The Mighty Milkbone presents

From Russia with Tsundere

With a stricken howl, the incarnation of hunger fled deeper into shadow, but Sergei Romanovich Smirnov did not give chase. He would only be wasting energy now that the thing had told him its name, so he flattened himself against an upright shipping crate and waited, Sasha cradled firmly in his arms. She had always been a source of comfort at his side, even in the loneliest and most hopeless of times, and today was far from either.

Every day was a good day for killing cowards, after all - cowardly spirits especially. Mustard-stained lips curled into a grim smile.

K-k-kratch, k-kratch. The sound echoed strangely - ten or fifty meters away, for all he knew. But its maker would come again, that much was certain. He had wounded the thing before it could complete its final promise, its fell contract with every victim. A contract it would need to be close for. The critical moment was soon at hand...though it would feel more critical, he thought, if the ethereal theme music surrounding him sounded the least bit serious.

Kratch.

Sergei Romanovich flooded his burly arms with magic power-

-K-k-k-k-kratch-

-steadied his gun-

"I will eat you."

-and then a howling shape fell upon him from above. He wheeled, striking it across the face with Sasha's barrel, and let the weapon whirr to life.

"YEEAAAAAG-"

"CRY SOME MOOOOOOORE!"

One foggy morning, a certain Anna Yurievna Orlova woke in silence and trudged sullenly into the downstairs rooms of her foster home to find a letter lying near the front doorway, its envelope charged with mana invisible to anyone but her. She gave a start and rushed to snatch it up. The letter was nothing if not welcome; seeing its return address burned joy through her like a line of action-movie gunpowder. Dancing and twirling unashamedly in her nightgown, Anna Yurievna hugged the letter, thought better of it and scanned the room around her for hidden watchers, then hugged the letter again.

It took her five more minutes to finally open the thing.

To my Dearest Anya, it read in English:

I am very sorry that I could not send you something more magical than a charmed letter today. Though it would make me very happy to know that you can see my face, life conspires against me. I shall do my best to make this simple paper suffice.

First, I will give you good news: the monster haunting our motherland is no more. He met his fate on my fists of steel as all meatless cowards do, and the common people can rest easy once again. My reward for defeating him shall go towards your education.

My less fortunate news pains me to speak of: it seems knowledge of the monster will not help us as I had hoped. Though relentless in the hunt and immune to petrification, his powers were demonic in nature; as such I suspect this immunity could not have been safely applied to our poor kin and friends.

As I close my eyes, dearest niece, I can already see the frown forming on your face. You have every right to be angry at this unfairness, so I suggest you put these feelings to use and further research a solution at your school. I know your Magus will be more than happy to assist you, and I will soon be in Wales to visit as well. Show me how much you have improved since last time!

(Archivist's note: there is a stain on the letter here, likely from a meat-based power-up.)

-ove you, and be sure to stay safe until I arrive. Goodbye for now.

Yours,

Uncle Seriy

(P.S.: Be sure to work with young Mr. Springfield more often! Wink wink)

Immediately (and exactly as Sergei Romanovich had expected), Anya blushed fit to explode at the postscript. How did Uncle know these things?! Was she not hiding it well enough? If even he realized she had a-

N-nevermind. Morning training came first. Then breakfast. Definitely breakfast.

...Stupid Negi.

Notes: Whoa. I've cracked in un-cracked territory. Garry's Mod is a cool, sexy, horrible influence, kids; you heard it here first.

- There are a lot of things I don't own here, not the least of which is Painis Cupcake.