Crack

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Branch

Ink Burns

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

This is a work of fanfiction, produced according to the principles of transformative fair use as put forward in US copyright law, and abiding by the custom and practice of fan-produced work in Japan, where the source texts were created. No author is in any way affiliated with any of the creators of the source texts, nor with the companies who distribute their products, nor any other rights holder, and these stories were not authorized by either the creators or the producers. Ink Burns is a fan site and the material here is freely provided for the enjoyment of fellow fan-community members; there is no commercial infringement.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 US license at the Ink Burns fanfiction archive (http://www.branchandroot.net/archive/).

"Price" published on 2005-07-16 00:01:13.

"305 The Way It Should Have Been" published on 2006-03-23 15:53:10.

"Size Matters" published on 2007-04-15 14:46:03.

"Dance on the Grave" published on 2008-06-19 13:05:34.

"Sex Sells" published on 2009-01-03 12:22:20.

Attributions can be made by author's name and a link to the archive.

This ebook edition was published on September 6, 2019 by the Ink Burns fanfiction archive.

Cover illustration is .

Cover design by Branch.

Price

Slightly twisted ficlet about the aftermath of the Soul Society arc. Spoilers through manga 181. Totally Cracked, I-1

If Rukia had made a list of the many sights she never expected to see, her brother kneeling over a washtub full of suds with his sleeves tied back would not have been on it anywhere. It would never have occurred to her to imagine her cool, sleek, elegant brother with his hair mussed from rising steam, even for the sake of thinking it impossible.

"Nii-sama?" she asked, a bit cautiously just in case this was a symptom of madness, or some strange family ritual she'd never heard of. "What are you doing?"

"Everything has a price, Rukia," he told her, evenly, without turning. He lifted his white scarf out of the water and held it up to the light. Rukia could see faint red-brown marks here and there. "Everything.

"Including dramatic gestures."

He dropped it back in and leaned down to keep scrubbing.

End

305 The Way It Should Have Been

An exercise in rewriting canon, in cooperation with Kizu. Atobe does it himself. Drama with Mild Crack, I-2, manga continuity

Kizu's part of this project:

- Atobe calls for cheers.

- Atobe doing it himself.

- Atobe triumphant.

- Shishido disgruntled.

- Oshitari and Mukahi.

- Jiriou, Kabaji and Hiyoshi.

One

Keigo watched with dazed detachment as the world faded back into arm's reach. He took a slow breath and blinked hard a few times, pulling the court back into focus.

And then he almost regretted it, because Echizen was trotting toward him with a smirk, waving an electric razor in one hand. "You lost," Echizen announced with insolent cheer, and flicked on the razor and held it out.

Keigo regarded the buzzing implement with a sneer. Unfortunately, a quick look at the scoreboard showed that Echizen was telling the truth. Keigo had lost. And he had also made a deal.

And Atobe Keigo did not go back on his word.

Keigo plucked the razor out of Echizen's hand, loftily ignoring the brat's grin. He lifted it and then paused. There was something missing, here. He considered it for a moment, lips pursed and head cocked and slowly turned to regard his club members. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it his way.

"Why," he quietly asked that sea of wide eyes and pale faces, "aren't you cheering?"

Oshitari's brows vanished under his bangs while Mukahi choked. Shishido sat down, hard. "Atobe, have you stripped a gear?" he asked, weakly.

Keigo gave him a cool glare. "Certainly not." He waved a hand at the club and snapped his fingers imperatively.

"A... Ato... be..." a voice in the crowd faltered.

Well, it was a start. Keigo nodded graciously and ran his fingers through his hair, lifting it so it wouldn't matt in the clipping edge.

"Atobe..." a few more voice breathed.

Keigo carefully ran the razor around his ear, working up in sections. No sense doing this in a haphazard, un-classy manner. He shook strands of hair off his fingers, taking a certain satisfaction in the way they shimmered, blowing away in the sunlight.

The voices of his club picked up momentum and volume. "Atobe! Atobe! Atobe!"

Keigo ran a hand over his head to be sure he hadn't missed any spots, which would be unsightly, and nodded with satisfaction. He tossed the razor, flipping it through the air, and caught it again, and raised it fisted in his hand. His club roared.

Echizen's smirk, when Keigo looked, was as wide as ever, but there was a faint, grudgingly impressed, crook to it. Keigo smirked back.

"Better luck next time."

Echizen blinked. "I won," he pointed out. "What do I need better luck for?"

Keigo caught his coat as Shishido, mouth twisted ruefully, tossed it to him, slinging it over his shoulder with a stylish flair. He looked back at Echizen, head high. "You won once."

Echizen snorted, and eyed Keigo, and the chanting club, and Keigo again. And then he laughed.

Keigo strode off the court and tossed the razor to Kabaji. Echizen wasn't getting it back, not after making such a nuisance of himself over it. That razor was, by damn, going to be Keigo's trophy of this match. "Pack that up, Kabaji."

For once, though, Kabaji didn't acknowledge his instructions. Instead he looked, for a long moment, at the razor in his hand. Then he clicked it on.

The chanting of the club faltered on the first pass, but as Kabaji calmly made another and tufts of black dropped to the clay, the cheering swelled again, louder than before.

"Hyoutei! Hyoutei! The winner will be Hyoutei!"

It was Keigo's turn to laugh, throwing back his now-bald head and lifting a hand to conduct the cheers.

Two

Ryouma shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he strolled back to his team. Seeing the monkey king bald was pretty satisfying, and all of Hyoutei bald should be even better. He'd have to see. He grinned at his teammates as he approached. Oishi-senpai still had a faintly horrified expression, but Momo was laughing so hard he had to lean on the fence and the corners of Fuji-senpai's mouth were curled up.

Tezuka-buchou, on the other hand, had his arms folded and shook his head. Ryouma tucked his chin down just a bit, looking up from under the brim of his cap as he rejoined them. Okay, so it hadn't been very nice. Or gracious or any of that stuff. But Atobe had been the one to bet, and Ryouma had won. And Tezuka-buchou wasn't actually frowning. He actually looked just a little pleased—just a quiet little bit, as he watched Ryouma and Atobe.

Who looked to be directing a riot by now.

Ryouma took a long drink of water and jerked his head toward the other team, where half the club was flocking down to line up for a turn at that razor. "They're all crazy."

Inui-senpai adjusted his glasses, suspiciously straight-faced. "I believe the phenomenon is commonly called mass hysteria."

Momo-senpai finally managed to catch his breath and slung and arm around Ryouma's neck. "Only you!" he laughed. "Only you would get a whole club to shave themselves bald!"

"That part wasn't my idea," Ryouma pointed out, trying not to be pulled off his feet.

Momo-senpai considered that. "You're right. Only Atobe," he corrected himself.

Tezuka-buchou made what might have been a snort of agreement. So Ryouma didn't bother hiding his grin as they watched the breeze blow strands and puffs and tufts of hair away from the Hyoutei tennis club.

Omake

Shishido grumped as he fumbled with the back of his head. "Can't believe I'm cutting my hair again for this damn club..."

Atobe sniffed. "No one asked you to."

Shishido growled at him direly, and then yelped as the razor nipped the skin at the back of his neck.

"Here, Shishido-san, let me," Ohtori offered in a soothing tone, taking the razor. "You missed a spot in the back."

Shishido hmphed but sat still while Ohtori finished him off.

Mukahi ran a hand over his head thoughtfully. "Actually, you know, this is kinda nice. It's a lot cooler for summer, that's for sure." He rubbed at his head again. "Feels kind of weird though. Hey, Yuushi, let me feel yours."

Oshitari caught his partner's reaching hand. "Later," he murmured.

"Doubles pairs," Hiyoshi said, very quietly, handing the razor back to Kabaji, who packed it away with what might have been a tiny glint of satisfaction.

Atobe looked over his, now largely hairless, team with something like affection. "All right. Time to be going."

End

Size Matters

Crossover with Gundam Wing. Hiruma and Heero have a Spandex Space contest. Duo has an Idea. The world is in trouble now. Total Crack, I-1

They'd barely been at this school two hours and already Heero was regretting it.

"Mmm, strength, grip, yeah you're perfect." The blond weird guy with the sharp teeth grinned at them, which made the teeth a lot more obvious. "Welcome to the American Football club!"

"I'm not in any clubs," Heero answered as evenly as he could when Duo was stifling snickers behind him.

The grin got impossibly wider. "You are now." Hiruma pulled out a small black book and started paging delicately through it. "Let's see now. Hm. Oh yeah." He cackled. "Where do I fucking start? You guys are a blackmailer's dream!"

At the word "blackmail" spinal reflex got Heero's gun out and pointed. But then he had to stop and reprocess the whole thing, because there was an assault rifle aimed dead center at him and another at Duo.

And Hiruma was still grinning. "You'll love football, trust me."

Heero was having a little trouble with the combination of "blackmail" and "ball game club". They didn't seem like they should go together

"If you don't mind my asking," Duo put in, "where did you just get these from?" He tapped the muzzle, not at all put out by being held at gunpoint. Heero supposed he was used to it by now.

Hiruma lifted a brow and nodded at Heero's skimpy tank top and shorts. "Same place he got his, probably."

"Mysterious extra space in the spandex, gotcha." Duo eyed the black book thoughtfully and shrugged. "Ever thought of piloting a Mobile Suit?"

Hiruma scratched his chin. "Hmm. You'd need a really big football."

Duo shot Heero a helpless look, corners of his mouth twitching up. Heero shrugged back. They could play football for a while. It would give him a chance to find a better opening to get the drop on this guy.

Hiruma's eyes gleamed. "I knew you'd see it my way."

... or possibly not.

"Hey," Duo whispered, as they followed Hiruma toward the playing fields, "what do you think would happen if we told him that Treize Kushurenada plans to shut down all football leagues around the world?"

Heero's eyes narrowed and he smiled.

Six Months Later...

"... and the new Alliance leader has declared that his, er, Mobile Suit Football teams are available at a modest rental fee to any government, to settle political and territorial disputes. Supreme Captain Hiruma added 'Football rules the world, ke ke ke.'" The news announcer sounded like she didn't quite believe what she was saying, and who could blame her? But there was no arguing with facts.

Five dazed Gundam pilots stared at the screen.

"Okay," Duo said, slowly. "Maybe that was a miscalculation."

"It's peace," Heero declared. "I'll take it."

The door disintegrated in a storm of bullets. Hiruma appeared in it, grinning. "Found you! Get in those suits and get moving; practice starts in half an hour!"

"We resigned from that club!"

"We were never in that club!"

"I was never in that school!"

Hiruma rubbed his chin, looking elaborately innocent. It was the most unconvincing thing any of them had ever seen. "Really? Then, I wonder where these sign-up papers came from?" He fanned five forms in one hand, and everyone leaned in to look.

Their signatures were all perfectly forged.

Heero growled and went for his gun. Hiruma's hands were full, and Heero had no intention of playing football for the rest of his life.

Only Hiruma's hands were suddenly full of metal instead of paper, and half an arsenal was pointed at them. Quatre grabbed Heero's wrist.

"I don't want to die just as the war's ended," he said firmly.

Hiruma's grin now showed enough teeth for any two demons. "Practice in half an hour," he repeated.

End

Dance on the Grave

Lucifer gives Alexiel a present. Written for the OTW Online Con Hodgepodge Challenge, with the prompt: Angel Sanctuary: Alexiel and/or Lucifer, revenge is a dish best served cold. Total Crack, I-1

Alexiel stared. "But why...?"

"Revenge is supposed to be served cold, isn't it?"

She gave Lucifer the look she'd perfected as a teenage boy. "It's a metaphor."

Lucifer's lips curled for just a moment. "Many humans say that about our entire existence, don't they? Just because something is a metaphor is no reason for it not to exist." He settled back in his chair, looking very smug for someone without any expression.

Alexiel drove a hand into her hair. "That isn't the point. The point is... is..." she trailed off, distracted by the thing on the table in front of them. "The point is... How did you get the expression so close?"

"I did see him a few times, myself," Lucifer pointed out, and picked up a knife. "So?"

Alexiel planted her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands, laughing helplessly. "Okay, okay. I can't believe you actually did this. Um." Her eyes were starting to sparkle. "I'll have some of the mouth."

Lucifer cut into the ice-cream cake in the shape of the Creator's head, slicing her out a large section of beard and mouth and laying it rather ceremoniously on her plate. This time, his smile had a bit of Kira's glint to it. "Happy birthday."

"You are so weird," Alexiel muttered, taking a bite anyway.

She had to admit, it did taste good.

End

Sex Sells

What if the box weapon maker wanted more funds? What sells better than weapons? Box sex toys! Absolute Crack with Bawdy Porn, I-4

Everyone stared into the parcel.

"You didn't actually ask what they did?"

"Oh, come on, Koenig always names the boxes bizarre things."

"Yes, but... 'Purple Ecstasy'?"

"Yeah, these aren't exactly... I mean, can we return them or something?"

"To an underground arms dealer?"

"But these aren't arms!"

"Maybe he needed more funding; I mean, if anything sells better than weapons..."

"We'll figure something out," Tsuna said firmly. "Later."

There was a pause while everyone looked at each other. It was Ryouhei who finally said, "So. Should we see what they actually do?"

"You really shouldn't be looking at this kind of thing," Lambo muttered, trying to unwrap the box... box thing.

"Oh, quit being so stingy." I-Pin elbowed him. "I want to see. Girls like sex too, you know."

Lambo winced. "I didn't want to hear that!" At least not from a girl he'd grown up with, who was practically his sister.

"Never mind, and just open it!" She bounced on the bed.

Lambo wondered if he was going to wind up psychologically scarred from this, but decided that, if his life so far hadn't done it, probably not. "All right, all right." He took a breath and called Flame to his ring and, with some trepidation, fed it to the box.

It opened in his hand, revealing... another ring?

Kind of a large ring.

I-Pin poked at it with a slender finger, frowning. "You can't be supposed to wear that. It's way to big, even for a thumb ring."

Lambo cleared his throat. "Well, I guess, um. It could be, um. Well."

I-Pin eyed him, and eyed the ring and obviously considered the shipment it had come in, and her eyes widened. "Really? You wear things there?" Then she tipped her head, thoughtful. "Why?"

Lambo tried frantically to think of a way not to answer without getting hit for holding out on her. "Well, um. It's, um. You see..." And then he trailed off and frowned, too. "But why should that be a Lightning box?"

"Hmm. Yeah, that does seem... odd." I-Pin nibbled a nail. "Unless it's..." She, too, trailed off, and started to turn pink, mouth twitching. "Um." She finally broke into helpless giggles and dove for his pillow to muffle them.

"What?" he asked, warily.

She looked up at him with dancing eyes and managed to squeak, "Lightning attribute!"

He blinked. "Hardening, what about—" His eyes widened and he nearly bit his tongue. "Oh."

As she dissolved into gales of laughter he couldn't help wondering, ruefully, if even a box would be able to do anything against the memory of this particular moment.

Ryouhei held the unfolded directions insert in one hand and the glove that had come out of the Sun box in the other. "Hmm. Hm. Uh-huh. Place gloved hand on body part..."

He shrugged. Seemed straightforward enough, and since most box items with the Sun attribute healed, after all, he didn't think there would be any problems. He pulled the glove on fed his Flame to it and, when nothing unusual happened, decided to go for it. Nothing ventured nothing gained!

When he closed his gloved hand between his legs, his eyes rolled back in his head from the wild rush of heat down every nerve. Only three thoughts managed to make it through the sensation.

One was that he should have remembered that the source of healing was "activation".

The second was that he really should have taken time to undo his pants, because these would need to be dry cleaned about a second and a half from now.

The third was that he was keeping this box.

Chrome poked her abruptly enlarged breasts with a cautious fingertip. "It's very convincing, I suppose." She twisted, trying to get a good look at the outfit the illusion box had provided her with; it looked like some pervert's idea of a maid's uniform.

Ken seemed to be at a loss for words, for once, and was just staring. Chikusa was shaking his head, probably at Ken.

Mukuro-sama was laughing, in the back of her head, too hard to speak.

Chrome smiled, wryly. "I think it gives a whole new meaning to cosplay."

Ken made a slightly strangled sound, and she laughed softly.

Oh please. Mukuro-sama's delight sparkled in her mind. I have to see the look on Hibari's face.

Chrome shook her head over their leader's penchant for teasing the Cloud Guardian. "You have bad hobbies, Mukuro-sama."

I know. He sounded downright gleeful, and she couldn't help smiling.

"All right. But you get to wear this thing." She had no objection to showing off her legs, but she really wasn't sure what to do with all this chest.

Of course, he purred, and a wicked smile lingered in the back of her mind.

"Seems like a lot of trouble to go to just for a jar of lube," Gokudera grumbled, pulling Yamamoto down against him.

"Well, let's see what it does, then." Yamamoto's smile was cheerfully interested and Gokudera rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, fine. Go ahead."

Slick fingers stroked his entrance, gentle, and for a moment it was just slippery and a bit chill, like any lube on the face of the earth.

And then it wasn't.

Gokudera's eyes widened as his muscles eased, relaxed, turned warm and pliant without any intention on his part. It was... kind of amazingly intimate, with Yamamoto touching him. "Oh..."

Yamamoto's eyes were intent on him. "Hm. Tranquility, huh?" He smiled, slow and hot.

Gokudera's arms tightened around him and pulled him closer, and he said, husky, in Yamamoto's ear, "More."

And moaned as long fingers opened him.

"Okay," Dino murmured into the sheets, "not that this isn't really good, but why bother with a box dildo? I mean," he gasped as Kyouya drew it back and pressed it in again, "the regular ones already move and light up and all that." And this one seemed a little on the small side, actually. Nice, but small.

"Mm. Not quite the way this one is designed to, I believe." Kyouya thrust it in slowly again, not seeming in any hurry to demonstrate.

"And how is that?" Heat walked up Dino's spine with the easy slide.

"Are you sure you want me to show you?" Kyouya murmured, so perfectly serious Dino knew he was teasing.

"Yeah... ahh... I think I do."

"Well, if you insist." He could hear Kyouya's tiny smile. "Consider. It's a Cloud box. And the attribute of cloud is...?"

"Propaga... oh shit." Dino's breath caught and then left him on a low moan as the dildo grew inside him, getting bigger and thicker, slowly but just quickly enough to make his nerves tighten and tingle. "Kyouya...!"

Kyouya drew the enlarged dildo back and pressed it in again, smooth and hard, and Dino groaned.

"God." His eyes were half lidded, and want and command twined together in his voice when he said, "Do that again."

Kyouya laughed low in his throat and fucked him harder.

Tsuna flopped down into one of the library chairs and pressed a hand over his eyes. "How," he asked, "am I supposed to get any work done around here ever again?"

"People already ordering new boxes?" Gokudera asked from his own chair, looking up from his book, glasses sliding down his nose a bit.

"Yes," Tsuna groaned. "It's all a plot to bankrupt Vongola, is what it is."

Gokudera chuckled, which Tsuna thought was unusually heartless of him, until he said, "Don't worry, Boss. That's where my new box comes in."

Tsuna sat up, frowning. "Um. How?"

Gokudera smiled at him, serene, with only a tiny hint of a gleam in his eyes. "Well, the Storm attribute is degeneration, right?" The gleam got a little stronger. "What's better suited to stop the action of the new boxes? Or at least," he added, "the action of the people using them."

Tsuna blinked. "You mean it..." He imagined a sudden, er, wilting throughout the base and his mouth twitched. "I, um, see."

Gokudera adjusted his glasses calmly and leaned back in his chair, ankles crossed. "Just say the word."

"I'll keep it in mind," Tsuna murmured, amused by Gokudera's ruthless cheer.

Gokudera sat up again. "Oh, hey, I forgot to ask. There was a Sky box in there, wasn't there?" He scratched his nose. "I was actually kind of curious about that one. I mean, the Sky's attribute is to encompass, and that doesn't seem like it would lend itself to anything I could think of off hand."

Tsuna turned red as a beet. "Ah, well, yes but I, um, put it away. It's not really—"

"Tsu-kun."

Tsuna flinched and looked around. Kyouko was standing in the door and her eyes were as chilly as her tone. "Um. Yes?" Oh, he was in so much trouble.

She held out an inflated... well, best to just call it an inflated body part, dangling it between two fingers, and raised a brow.

Tsuna held up his hands. "It wasn't me!" Though, in retrospect, he should probably have taken the time to put the thing more away, no matter how embarrassed he'd been.

She studied him for a moment. "Hm. Well, then, I think you'd better tell me all about it." She turned and stalked toward the door again.

"Psst, Boss." Gokudera slipped another box to him. "Figured you guys might want this. It's a Sun box, but you should be able to use it. She'll forgive you more if you share, right?"

"I really hope so," Tsuna said, fervently, following after her.

Inside a year, all inter-Family feuds subsided for lack of people paying attention to them, all the potential evil masterminds were too exhausted to take over the world, and everyone lived happily ever after.

Very happily.

End