Doctor Who: Tsundere (a fan-fiction)
Story 1: An Untimely Arrival

Foreword (PLZ READ!)

This is my first published Fanfiction, please don't expect too much from this. I was actually going to publish a Star Wars: The Old Republic story as my first published fanfiction but the storyline got too messed up for my liking so I decided to start a new project. Admittedly, this isn't my first Doctor Who fanfiction, my first one had the regeneration of a skinny, ginger Doctor who was accompanied by his female companion and River Song. This story took place on Trenzalore right after the events of the Eleventh Doctor's final episode 'Eleventh Hour', there he fought with the Great Intelligence (the Dr Simeon version) and was shot by Adam Mitchel (that guy that travelled with the Ninth Doctor and Rose for... 2 episodes?) and there was a gathering of almost every villain in Doctor Who history for some reason, I don't know, I just thought it seemed rather cool until I looked back on it later. Anyway, one of Clara Oswald's 'splinters' was there and the Doctor regenerates into an Asian guy whose character resembled that of the Twelfth Doctor's cynical persona. As you can tell the storyline got too cheesy and was basically a rip-off of 'Eleventh Hour'.

Despite my misgivings on my earlier Doctor Who fanfiction, the concept of my original characters seemed quite good so I may rewrite that story in the future (with a fairly original story plot, of course). Anyway, for this story I decided to write a female Doctor in homage of the new Thirteenth Doctor; from the time I'm writing this, the Twelfth Doctor's Christmas special hasn't been aired yet and thus I don't know for sure how good the Thirteenth Doctor will be, though I'm sure she will be a great and memorable character. Now returning to the topic of my story, I think I didn't write the Doctor's Tsundereness too well (for those who don't know, a Tsundere is a person who is cold towards another person (Usually the main protagonist) before showing a warmer side over time), so please give me advice on how to write one!

Without further ado, please enjoy this piece.

Chapter 1

Thick smoke filled the air as fires crackled upon the ruined cobble floor. Debris of wood and metal scattered haphazardly across the ground, some were grouped together to form hills of hindrance with the occasional dead pale hand or two protruding from under the rubble. One could surmise from observing the place from afar that it was almost flat: not even a recognisable structure of habitation stood to tell the tale. The sky was not show it's true colours for it was hidden by the dense, dark grey shroud of smog that obscured the sky's true appearance as far as the eye could see. From beneath one of the remnants out sprung a young man, gasping desperately for oxygen that he was denied of when trapped under what seemed to be once a café- only to cough and retch at the acrid air that the atmosphere welcomed him with. Reaching for his Arma-mask, he quickly placed the mask on his face. Much to his relief, a cool circulation of clean air embraced his respiratory organs. He began to breathe normally again. Then halted his breathing when he saw the virtual writing displayed on the glass screen above his eyes, it read in red: Oxygen capacity critical, estimated supply expiry two minutes (average breathing rate). The man almost gave in to panic and hyperventilated, however, he calmly slowed his breathing and tried to keep his wits about him.

Looking around he surveyed what was left of his city, nothing left but debris and the dead. He couldn't believe it, before all this he was having a peaceful lunch break in his favourite café then the sky darkened as the sun was eclipsed. It seemed like less than a split second that brought the prosperous city to annihilation. It was all so fast. Too fast. Sure there were wars on his world, but none wrought as much destruction on this scale. Ambling through the crumbled cobble, the man endeavoured to search through the heaps of material for survivors or some discarded Arma-mask, or an oxygen tank. To no avail. What am I doing? He thought incredulously, I have less than a minute to live and I'm wasting time searching for things that have a low chance of being found in a situation like this? Still at least searching kept his hopes of survival up, even if that hope is as false as a mirage. Now he guessed that he had just under a half minute's worth of breaths left in the mask. He needed a miracle. As if his prayers were answered, under the thirteenth pile he searched was a cylindrical canister with the capital letter 'o' and the number 2 in subscript on the right. His lips widened and curved into a smile. An Oxygen tank! He dug out the rest of the cannister with great speed and excitement like a dog unearthing it's long lost, favourite bone. Once he'd fully freed the cannister from the ground, he held it up triumphantly... only to see a large hole. Dropping his one last hope of salvation with a clatter, he dropped on his knees, tearing holes in his trousers where the knees were under and the shards of sharp metal and stone cut into his exposed knees, causing them to bleed. Weeping and sniffing, the man accelerated the expiry of the morsel of Oxygen that remained inside the mask until the virtual writing on the glass read: Oxygen capacity 0%.

The man had no air left to breathe but kept the mask on anyway. Deprivation of air made him feel sleepy. The final function of the Arma-mask, he thought idly as his eyes began to flutter, when out of Oxygen, it enacts euthanasia by injecting sleep drugs to the wearer so to provide the wearer with a much softer death than suffocation. What he would do to wake up to wake up in a hospital right now... his eyes were almost shut and he slumped upon the ground. Suddenly, he heard a bell tolling in the distance. That's funny, he thought, I didn't know we still had an old earth bell in this country. The tolling faded and was replaced by a wheezing grating sound. Out of thin air appeared a tall blue box. Some breeze began blowing debris in a all directions. The object's entrance was like that of a low budget pulsing fade in effect. When the blue box fully materialized, it ended it's wheezing and grating with a thud of finality. The man squinted his eyes to see with his gradually fading eyesight, the blue box had light grey opaque windows and a pulsing light at it's top, the blue parts looked like... wood? Was he hallucinating? The door on his right creaked open, revealing a feminine figure leaning upon the door way, and wearing a crimson robe like long coat with lapels, a dark brown waistcoat and a dark grey skirt that reached below her knees. OK, now he knew he was hallucinating. He blamed the fumes he breathe in earlier. The female humanoid didn't seem to be affected by the smoke but confusion was written upon her face. Confusion that seemed to be mixed with disappointment and horror.

"How is this Gaia Prime 5012 AD?" she complained loudly to herself, scouring her surroundings with her sight, "I've been here in 5090 and there was no record of this ever happening... oh well I guess history can be... rewritten"

Rewriting history? How is that even possible, surely she meant propaganda of totalitarian regimes, right? Another question, how can she have travelled into the planet's future? Time travel devices were destroyed at the end of the last millennia by the shadow proclamation... or were they? He didn't have enough strength left to answer his own questions as he was slowly dying. His eyes finally closed and his body spasmed. He heard the woman gasp and rush toward him with crunching footsteps.

"Come on, come on, don't die on me," he heard her fervently mutter as a high pitched warbling sound was heard, when the sound ceased, he heard a sigh of relief, "thank goodness, I can still save him, hang in there..."

Awaking with a gasp, the man found himself in a large, white room. A flat, well polished ceiling loomed above him. Turning to his right, he saw that the walls were decorated with shining white roundels. He then proceeded to turn to his left and saw the young woman from earlier, she was sat upon a small birch wood chair and her aqua coloured eyes looked at him with concern. He groaned, sat up and gingerly touched his face. He no longer wore a mask.

"Where... where am I?" he asked her.

"You're inside the safest place in the entire universe," she reassured him with a soft placating voice, "I'm sorry, I couldn't find any more of your people"

She then added: "You're lucky to be alive"

"I guess..." the man replied with a sigh, as his eyesight began to return to him, he saw that the woman had wavy, onyx hair that ended just beyond her shoulder; her pale skin unblemished and looked as smooth as silk, her lips neither thick nor thin was a faded rose red colour. Her face was so young that she might as well be a young adult, "Well... er... thanks for saving me Miss"

"Miss?" she asked, her face showed the same kind of befuddlement as before but this time only mixed with horror.

"You are a female right?" frowned the man. The young woman opened her mouth as her cheeks began to blush.

"Kyyyaaaa!" she screamed as she leapt up from her chair and retreated to a roundel on the opposite side of the room. She tapped the roundel and it responded like water: ripples undulated in every direction from the origin point where her finger touched it. The opaque roundel turned into a circular mirror.

"Is everything alright?" the man asked, this young woman was acting in a peculiar manner.

"I'm... I'm a girl..." she stammered, then her expression relaxed into a calm smile, as she examined the rest of her body, "a really cute girl, excellently proportioned, nice... though she does sound much more dignified than those other rather eccentric lads that came before, a definite improvement if I do say so myself"

"Are you alright?" the man repeated.

"Hmmm? Oh yes, I just thought I was reincarnated into a Scottish boy who hasn't reached puberty," she chuckled, placing her hands on her hips, "of course this isn't the first time I've been female, thirteen was the first one"

"Couldn't you tell you were wearing a dress?"

"I thought it was a James Bond themed kilt," she shrugged.

"You don't even sound remotely Scottish," the man pointed out, his voice now filled with annoyance at the woman's oblivious nature.

"Now that you mention it, I don't," she replied, glancing at the ceiling in thought, then her aqua eyes bore into his own eyes and she held out her hand, "sorry for the awkward intro, I'm the Doctor, you are...?"

"I'm Drex Weller," the man replied, taking her soft, delicate hand and shaking it, "Doctor who?"

"Ufufufu, not telling," the Doctor winked slyly, Drex frowned, "you might say every Doctor in existence was inspired by my forbearance"

"Right..." Drex replied. She was a strange one, but the way she talked, the things she talked about, this room... could she be...?

Walking to the centre of the room, the Doctor approached a hexagonal console and began pressing various buttons. Drex came closer to the console, it was filled with buttons and levers that looked like they belonged in the days of technological advancement in the old Earth. He noticed the Doctor was moving round and round the console both clockwise and anticlockwise. The Doctor stopped fiddling with the controls when she was satisfied with whatever she had set the machine to do, she then turned to face Drex.

"Now shall we find out what happened to your planet then?" the Doctor offered.

"Yes, how could every tall building on my planet be reduced to mere rubble without destroying the entire planet?" Drex wondered aloud, he then added: "if I'm not mistaken, it happened in under a second"

"My dear Drex, accurate orbital bombardments are child's play to interstellar warlords," the Doctor dismissed with an airy wave, "although the timing of destruction does intrigue me... now let us travel back say... to twenty hours prior..."

"Wait, you can time travel?" blurted Drex despite being confident about his theory on what she is.

"I'm a Timelord, 'course I can," the Doctor replied dismissively as she began pressing buttons to adjust the timing settings.

"I thought the Shadow proclamation banned and ended time travel"

"Yeah, fat lot of good it did," snorted the Doctor, she even didn't look up from her button pressing, "you can't stop time travel from happening unless you get rid of it's discovery as a time traveller thereby killing yourself in the process of creating a parallel universe without time travel. Because time travel (in our universe anyway) will always return in one form or another because of another time traveller"

The Doctor finally flicked a lever up and caused the vertical column at the console's centre to move up and down, also the wheezing and grating sound was heard, albeit muffled. After a few minutes, the Doctor flicked the same lever down prompting the vertical column to cease it's movement, and the wheezing and grating sound was silenced with a final thud. With a click of her thumb and middle finger, a soft, slow humming was heard, one of the walls opened inwards like a double door. Drex had to admit, he didn't notice the zigzag pattern or the doorway that distinguished it from the rest of the normal wall roundels, it was like trying to find a snow leopard in a snowy mountain. He turned to look at the Doctor. She smiled at Drex and gestured him to go out of the door first.

"Shall we?"