Application for Reborn
Hardly odd for this Disneyland, a baby in a fancy suit. One year old or thereabouts, a nice black three-piece with a dark red collared shirt. No tie, preferring instead the yellow pacifier hung around his neck (well, he was one year old, after all). A black fedora, matching his suit, with a large orange band around it, to offset--and a green lizard, perched on the brim, looking around with more curiosity than the small child, if no more real surprise.
He notices the two animal figures, then, and still no registering of surprise, as if he deals with far stranger. "Ciaossu," he greets instead, politely.
Mickey coughs theatrically. "'What is your name?'"
"My name is Reborn," he says. "And you are Mickey Mouse, trademarked by the Walt Disney Corperation. And I assume your friend is the Cheshire Cat, Sir Tenniel's version, instead of the cartoon. A good choice," he adds. "It wasn't a very faithful interpretation."
"What is your quest?" asks the Cat. It's perched, suddenly, on the roof of one of the gate-stiles.
"I can't give away such delicate information at this time." Strange sentence to be coming from a one year old. (How can he even talk, anyway?) "At the moment, my job is to be the home tutor of middle school student Tsunayoshi Sawada." ... Yes.
"'What is the average w..?'" Mickey frowns down at the notebook. "You know, I don't really see why that's important." He flips a page. "'If you could be granted three wishes, what would they be?'"
"Or," the Cat says, examining its tail with interest, "if you were a genie and someone you were trying to
give three wishes to was trying to trick you into giving him more, what would you say?"
"Wishes are unnecessary," Reborn says. "If someone can't work for what they need, giving it to them for free won't help anything. If someone tried to trick me, I would take away their remaining wishes, and punish them." No hints as to what this punishment is, apparently.
Mickey looks rather nonplused at the next, but reads, "'When the revolution comes, what skills will you be able to barter for food?'"
The baby seems to consider this, but not for very long. "In the case of a revolution we build an underground bunker under a large area of the town, with several hidden entrances at strategic points. The family has enough funds to survive for quite a long time, but as shopping for food and supplies may prove unsafe in the circumstances, everyone will be trained in gathering food and supplies from the wild. If they can't take care of themselves, they will die."
He doesn't seem troubled by this passing of judgement. Also, from the way he's said it, he falls firmly into the column of people who can take care of themselves just fine.
The Cat rolls its eyes in a friendly (and rather disconcertingly out-of-sync) way, and asks, "Milk, dark, or white chocolate?"
Reborn smiles. The baby seems to have very few different facial expressions actually. "I confess a fondness for dark chocolate, but any other is fine too."
"'Choose the two coolest: robots, pirates, fairies, bears, ninjas, monkeys, vampires, or humans,'" says Mickey, giggling a bit as he goes through the list. "'Explain.'"
"I'm not interested in questions like that." Well, at least he's honest... and very matter of fact.
"Great!" Mickey flips through the blank pages of the notebook at top, cartoon-y speed. "Well, I think that's just about it! Oh, and I'm supposed to ask, 'for your safety: are you carrying anything sharp?'"
"Nothing at all." Not a surprising answer from a baby, for once! Though he is, of course, not mentioning the shape-changing lizard, the guns, the grenades...
((Application for Reborn, from the manga Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or, over here, just known as Reborn! Yes, the exclamation point is part of the title. And yes, Reborn himself is a small little one-year-old mafioso assassin baby. Permission will be asked before I do anything godmoddy with him. He is being pulled near the current point in his canon, at the end of 174, after their big dinner and before the surprise Millefiore attack.))
He notices the two animal figures, then, and still no registering of surprise, as if he deals with far stranger. "Ciaossu," he greets instead, politely.
Mickey coughs theatrically. "'What is your name?'"
"My name is Reborn," he says. "And you are Mickey Mouse, trademarked by the Walt Disney Corperation. And I assume your friend is the Cheshire Cat, Sir Tenniel's version, instead of the cartoon. A good choice," he adds. "It wasn't a very faithful interpretation."
"What is your quest?" asks the Cat. It's perched, suddenly, on the roof of one of the gate-stiles.
"I can't give away such delicate information at this time." Strange sentence to be coming from a one year old. (How can he even talk, anyway?) "At the moment, my job is to be the home tutor of middle school student Tsunayoshi Sawada." ... Yes.
"'What is the average w..?'" Mickey frowns down at the notebook. "You know, I don't really see why that's important." He flips a page. "'If you could be granted three wishes, what would they be?'"
"Or," the Cat says, examining its tail with interest, "if you were a genie and someone you were trying to
give three wishes to was trying to trick you into giving him more, what would you say?"
"Wishes are unnecessary," Reborn says. "If someone can't work for what they need, giving it to them for free won't help anything. If someone tried to trick me, I would take away their remaining wishes, and punish them." No hints as to what this punishment is, apparently.
Mickey looks rather nonplused at the next, but reads, "'When the revolution comes, what skills will you be able to barter for food?'"
The baby seems to consider this, but not for very long. "In the case of a revolution we build an underground bunker under a large area of the town, with several hidden entrances at strategic points. The family has enough funds to survive for quite a long time, but as shopping for food and supplies may prove unsafe in the circumstances, everyone will be trained in gathering food and supplies from the wild. If they can't take care of themselves, they will die."
He doesn't seem troubled by this passing of judgement. Also, from the way he's said it, he falls firmly into the column of people who can take care of themselves just fine.
The Cat rolls its eyes in a friendly (and rather disconcertingly out-of-sync) way, and asks, "Milk, dark, or white chocolate?"
Reborn smiles. The baby seems to have very few different facial expressions actually. "I confess a fondness for dark chocolate, but any other is fine too."
"'Choose the two coolest: robots, pirates, fairies, bears, ninjas, monkeys, vampires, or humans,'" says Mickey, giggling a bit as he goes through the list. "'Explain.'"
"I'm not interested in questions like that." Well, at least he's honest... and very matter of fact.
"Great!" Mickey flips through the blank pages of the notebook at top, cartoon-y speed. "Well, I think that's just about it! Oh, and I'm supposed to ask, 'for your safety: are you carrying anything sharp?'"
"Nothing at all." Not a surprising answer from a baby, for once! Though he is, of course, not mentioning the shape-changing lizard, the guns, the grenades...
((Application for Reborn, from the manga Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or, over here, just known as Reborn! Yes, the exclamation point is part of the title. And yes, Reborn himself is a small little one-year-old mafioso assassin baby. Permission will be asked before I do anything godmoddy with him. He is being pulled near the current point in his canon, at the end of 174, after their big dinner and before the surprise Millefiore attack.))