YnM/WK crossover fic: Guilt (Tsuzuki, Schuldig) - plus omake!
Title: Guilt
Rating: PG
Word count: 200 (double-drabble)
Notes: From the drabble meme posted in my LJ two weeks ago: Yami no Matsuei/Weiss Kreuz: Schuldig messes with Tsuzuki's head, requested by lady_ganesh. Set after A Business Proposition, posted last week. TBC?
Spoilers: From YnM, the “King of Swords” arc.
***
Tsuzuki is used to nightmares: he’s had over a hundred years worth of them. But he’s dreaming more often these days, and the images won’t leave his mind even after he awakens.
Feeling a little guilty, Asato?
It took Tsuzuki a week to realize the malicious comments and mocking laughter came from a stranger: with twelve guardian spirits under his command, sometimes it was difficult to determine which thoughts were his own.
I can relate, Shinigami. In another lifetime, you and I could have been friends.
If he is a friend, Tsuzuki needs more enemies.
Your biggest enemy is yourself.
***
Despite all the cruelty and madness he has witnessed over the decades, Tsuzuki still believes good always triumphs over evil.
Let’s talk about evil. How many people have you killed?
A Shinigami is not a murderer: the names of the human souls they escort to Meifu already appear in the Book of the Dead.
Was Tsubaki-hime already listed when Hisoka killed her? What about all those innocents who died because you couldn’t capture Muraki? Did you write their names in the book? Did you write them in blood?
Shut up!
Your thoughts are a very pretty shade of red, demon.
Bonus!fic: Set after A Business Proposition, and sometime during Guilt. The tone of this piece is very different from the rest. Consider this an omake?
Rating: G
Word Count: 439
Nagi is certain the world is coming to an end. Not only had Schuldig taken over Crawford’s bedroom three days ago - reclining comfortably on the American’s king-sized bed with twelve-hundred thread count, Egyptian cotton sheets and more pillows than Farfarello has knives - but Crawford allowed the action without complaint.
Now Crawford was taking another pitcher of iced tea and a supply of snacks to the telepath. Nagi so far had ruled out blackmail, demonic possession and telepathic influence as the cause of this unusual behavior.
Farfarello told him the other day that Crawford had finally snapped. Watching through the open doorway as Crawford fluffed another pillow, Nagi was inclined to believe the Irishman.
“Nagi’s thinking too much, it’s distracting. Go explain this to him,” an irritated Schuldig ordered. Crawford immediately obeyed, which only served to alarm Nagi even futher.
“Everything’s fine, Nagi,” Crawford said, dropping heavily onto the couch in the living room. “There is a method to my madness.”
“At least we agree you’ve gone mad,” Nagi replied. “That’s the first step to recovery, admitting you have a problem.”
“Not a problem - a mission. A very complicated, delicate and high-paying mission,” Crawford answered. “One that requires Schuldig’s undivided attention if we are to succeed.”
Nagi looked at Crawford as if he had grown a second head. “He’s working?”
“Yes,” Crawford said. “This target requires long-term, subtle manipulation.”
Nagi looked at Crawford for a long moment before incredulously stating, “Subtlety… from Schuldig?”
Crawford felt the beginnings of the headache he had foreseen earlier in the day. He hadn’t expect Nagi, of all people, to be the trigger.
“Crawford,” Schuldig shouted from the bedroom, “just send Nagi out to smack the empath around. The little snot is suspicious, and he’s interfering with my efforts.”
“A fine idea,” Crawford agreed, and retreated to his office. Moments later he returned with a folder containing photos and a report.
“Review the report carefully before engaging the target,” Crawford ordered. “Don’t kill him, but inflict as much damage as you can short of that. Remember, he - like you - is much more dangerous than his appearance would indicate.”
Nagi scanned the report briefly before nodding his agreement. “There’s two other people mentioned in here, besides the empath and his partner. What if they get in the way?”
Crawford smirked. “They won’t,” he said. “Farfarello is already stalking one of them. He is going to have an interesting time dealing with that Shinigami’s special talent. As for the last gentleman,” he paused, tilting his head so that light reflected off his glasses menacingly, “He and I will have a most illuminating discussion among the shadows tonight.”
Rating: PG
Word count: 200 (double-drabble)
Notes: From the drabble meme posted in my LJ two weeks ago: Yami no Matsuei/Weiss Kreuz: Schuldig messes with Tsuzuki's head, requested by lady_ganesh. Set after A Business Proposition, posted last week. TBC?
Spoilers: From YnM, the “King of Swords” arc.
***
Tsuzuki is used to nightmares: he’s had over a hundred years worth of them. But he’s dreaming more often these days, and the images won’t leave his mind even after he awakens.
Feeling a little guilty, Asato?
It took Tsuzuki a week to realize the malicious comments and mocking laughter came from a stranger: with twelve guardian spirits under his command, sometimes it was difficult to determine which thoughts were his own.
I can relate, Shinigami. In another lifetime, you and I could have been friends.
If he is a friend, Tsuzuki needs more enemies.
Your biggest enemy is yourself.
***
Despite all the cruelty and madness he has witnessed over the decades, Tsuzuki still believes good always triumphs over evil.
Let’s talk about evil. How many people have you killed?
A Shinigami is not a murderer: the names of the human souls they escort to Meifu already appear in the Book of the Dead.
Was Tsubaki-hime already listed when Hisoka killed her? What about all those innocents who died because you couldn’t capture Muraki? Did you write their names in the book? Did you write them in blood?
Shut up!
Your thoughts are a very pretty shade of red, demon.
Bonus!fic: Set after A Business Proposition, and sometime during Guilt. The tone of this piece is very different from the rest. Consider this an omake?
Rating: G
Word Count: 439
Nagi is certain the world is coming to an end. Not only had Schuldig taken over Crawford’s bedroom three days ago - reclining comfortably on the American’s king-sized bed with twelve-hundred thread count, Egyptian cotton sheets and more pillows than Farfarello has knives - but Crawford allowed the action without complaint.
Now Crawford was taking another pitcher of iced tea and a supply of snacks to the telepath. Nagi so far had ruled out blackmail, demonic possession and telepathic influence as the cause of this unusual behavior.
Farfarello told him the other day that Crawford had finally snapped. Watching through the open doorway as Crawford fluffed another pillow, Nagi was inclined to believe the Irishman.
“Nagi’s thinking too much, it’s distracting. Go explain this to him,” an irritated Schuldig ordered. Crawford immediately obeyed, which only served to alarm Nagi even futher.
“Everything’s fine, Nagi,” Crawford said, dropping heavily onto the couch in the living room. “There is a method to my madness.”
“At least we agree you’ve gone mad,” Nagi replied. “That’s the first step to recovery, admitting you have a problem.”
“Not a problem - a mission. A very complicated, delicate and high-paying mission,” Crawford answered. “One that requires Schuldig’s undivided attention if we are to succeed.”
Nagi looked at Crawford as if he had grown a second head. “He’s working?”
“Yes,” Crawford said. “This target requires long-term, subtle manipulation.”
Nagi looked at Crawford for a long moment before incredulously stating, “Subtlety… from Schuldig?”
Crawford felt the beginnings of the headache he had foreseen earlier in the day. He hadn’t expect Nagi, of all people, to be the trigger.
“Crawford,” Schuldig shouted from the bedroom, “just send Nagi out to smack the empath around. The little snot is suspicious, and he’s interfering with my efforts.”
“A fine idea,” Crawford agreed, and retreated to his office. Moments later he returned with a folder containing photos and a report.
“Review the report carefully before engaging the target,” Crawford ordered. “Don’t kill him, but inflict as much damage as you can short of that. Remember, he - like you - is much more dangerous than his appearance would indicate.”
Nagi scanned the report briefly before nodding his agreement. “There’s two other people mentioned in here, besides the empath and his partner. What if they get in the way?”
Crawford smirked. “They won’t,” he said. “Farfarello is already stalking one of them. He is going to have an interesting time dealing with that Shinigami’s special talent. As for the last gentleman,” he paused, tilting his head so that light reflected off his glasses menacingly, “He and I will have a most illuminating discussion among the shadows tonight.”