In which we get more Batman references, Basil's lack of presence rivals Canada's, and CEDEF are spy-y. And Iemitsu is terribly over the top while everyone is Unimpressed with his Drama.
Shishou—ah, given that I'm not supposed to know Japanese, I suppose it's master—is wailing under the combined weight of three unimpressed stares. "But he's so cuuuute! And he's ninja-scary too! Oregano, you like ninja-scary, right? Basil's absolutely ninja-scary—he even snuck up on me without me noticing, come on, if we don't snatch him up the Varia will, then what will happen to sweet little Basil?"
The woman, Oregano (I was beginning to sense a theme here), looked at him, "He's either 'ninja scary' or 'sweet', being both is a contradiction. And how did you get him? Did you snatch the poor boy off the streets? Are his parents looking for him right now?"
"Did you kill his parents on a mission, Idiot-metsu?" That was the toddler with the mouth of a sailor.
"Nooooooo!" Master—that sounded wrong, sir's better—caterwauled, "I'm better than that! Stealing isn't maannnnlyyyyyyyyy!"
"That lion cub you took from the zoo, sir." The man, Turmeric, countered flatly. "The time with the Cloud Arcobaleno's motorbike. The Mafialand fiasco where you started a feud between two of Vongola's rival families because you took one of their underbosses' prized Damascus dagger."
"Those were strategic maneuvers!" Sir was projecting his misery all over the place, and it was hurting my eardrums. I thought for a second—sound was vibration was energy, so… I manipulated Matatabi over my auditory organs. Aah, blessed silence. Mumble, mumble, sir was still making Nidaime-sama seem sober in comparison. What was that commotion?
I drew back the curtain of silence. Sir was still screeching, but this was more panic-filled. "Basil? Basil? Where are you? BASIL!"
"Still here, Mr. Sawada." I said politely. Suddenly, there was absolute silence. I checked to see that it wasn't Matatabi accidentally flaring up, but no, everyone was stock still and focused on me.
"Not invisibility." The toddler confirmed. "The kid was visible all the time, we just stopped noticing him. Got me too."
So the toddler was powerful. I could see why she was angry all the time now—nii-sama had been permanently stuck at twelve and he hadn't been much cheerier. "It's always like this." I clarified politely, "People always ignore me unless I try to get their attention, or if they think I'm supposed to be there."
"Allow me to clarify some things." Oregano broke in calmly. "Basil, you are an orphan, and Sawada picked you up from a library you had been living in, correct?"
I nodded, "Yes, Miss Oregano."
"Agent Oregano or just Oregano please, Basil, we're colleagues now. Can you turn invisible?"
I shook my head. "No, Agent Oregano. I'm just good at keeping quiet and not being noticed. If I try, the people's eyes slide off me, but I still cast a shadow."
"Alright," Oregano said, "Now, do you know what Sawada wants you to do?"
"Learn under him and spy on the mafia for the mafia, as well as providing an outside perspective on mafia plans so that people don't get tricked because they don't realize they can 'get a turkey to distract the goose to distract the dog to distract the guard to let someone steal something without destroying a building even if building-destroying is fun'." I paused, "I think I quoted sir verbatim," then I hurried on, earnestly and a touch panicked, "but I wasn't paying attention to sir's complex metaphors but I know what he meant I promise!"
Oregano acknowledged me with a nod of her head. "Do you understand that you will be making people's lives miserable and that people will make your life miserable too?"
I nodded, "Yes. But sir said that he wasn't going to make me fight crime dressed as a traffic light so I think I'm going to be okay and don't worry I won't feel too bad about making people's lives bad because they aren't going to be very good people and sir said Vongola is the nicest of the families and mister Nono is a good man who wants to make people's lives better too!"
Which, by the way, is nothing but lies. I've apparently been tricked into joining this world's equivalent of Konoha, and a lifetime of shinobi-hood and a lifetime of tropes before that means that I'm justifiably suspicious of anyone over thirty, let alone sixty. But I'm a good liar, and since I'm pretending to have Robin-phobia, I might as well go whole hog, and act like an adorably gullible child along the way.
Tumeric glared at sir. Oregano looked like she was suppressing the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. I know that specific look because I wore it most of my adult life while dealing with kunai-happy idiots and swordsmen-reviving teenagers.
"Do you understand that you'll be dealing with this idiot day in day out?" The blue-haired toddler asked bluntly.
"Yes—" I clapped my hands over my mouth in horror, "No—I mean yes—I mean no, sir isn't an idiot, I mean that I'm going to be okay working with sir."
Hopefully, wide-eye worship would guilt sir into behaving.
Turmeric gave me a considering look. "Alright Basil, if you're sure, welcome to CEDEF. Sorry kid, it's too late to back out now. I'm Turmeric, my partner's Oregano, Iemitsu's our head. We're all trained for the field, but Lal Mirch is our heavy hitter. She may look like a baby, but she's older than Iemitsu, and she's one of the strongest Flame users in the world. Trust her, respect her, and listen to her—it will save your life one day. Take everything boss says with a grain of salt, but despite appearances, boss is good at his job. Now, I'll get you cleaned up and then Lal and Oregano will test you to see what you're like right now while sir gets you your slops."
Slops—clothes—mainly naval usage. Hint of origin? "Okay." I chirped in agreement.
"So, how'd it go?" Iemitsu was serious for once.
Lal Mirch shrugged from where she was perched on the shelf. "The boy's fit, but reasonably so. Good reflexes, but he's clearly untrained—flinched like hell at the gunshot and reacted to my yelling like a civ. It checks out with his story, and yeah, he's acing stealth at superhuman levels, but no other indicators of abuse—he seems to just like being quiet and he's a bit proud of how nobody notices him."
"Oregano?"
"How did you even find this kid?" The Mist muttered, then continued at a brisk pace, "Basil is bright, nice personality, curious enough and willing to learn. He's far too talented with language and literature than he has any right to be, writes at the speed most people read and reads at the speed most people think—faster, even. Decently well-rounded education, not a genius but he can trudge his way through most things. He functions under pressure, might act panicked but doesn't freeze or go into hysterics. I've tested his Flame manipulation. His control is extraordinary and he's creative enough to use basic physics, but he doesn't realize what he's doing. If he's a plant, he'd have to be some sort of deaged one."
Iemitsu nodded. "Then there's the last test."
I looked at the suit laid out for me. It was purple. "Sir." I said nervously, "I know that I said that I didn't want to be Robin, but that doesn't mean that I want to be Joker either."
Iemitsu adopted a whining tone. "But Basil, if you don't wear something bright, I'll never be able to find you!"
I took a step back from the monstrosity. "Sir, with all due respect, if you make me wear that, you will never be able to find me."
Also, I'm disappointed with the name of my powers. If they were fire, why couldn't they set the bloody thing on fire?
It took a lot of wide-eyed protests and me trying to discreetly hide behind Lal Mirch (she was just as terrifying as the Kiri Academy's teachers) before Oregano rescued me with a dark blue suit and matching pants. I changed. The way it felt was awkward, since I wore shirts and jackets in this life and kimono or flak jackets and armor in my former one, and as a teenage student in my first life, I didn't exactly have many occasions to wear anything other than baggy uniforms.
I fumbled with the tie. I knew how to tie the neckerchief of a gakuran, but not the long strip of cloth. Besides, what shinobi wore a noose about their neck? I ended up threading the material through the buttonholes in my new shirt.
Turmeric took one look at my buttoned-up mess and untied tie, and sighed before helping me arrange the cloth and layers of clothing around me properly.
When he finished, I felt nice. A suit felt more about power and professionalism than masculinity, as far as I was concerned, so it wasn't that great a dissonance from the grace and elegance of a well-honed blade that I associated with being female in my past life. I could deal. Hopefully, puberty wouldn't give me any problems.
I pushed my hair back from my eyes and smiled brightly at Iemitsu. "How do I look, sir?"
He ruffled my hair. "Great, kid! You'll grow up to be just as handsome as me some day!"
Said the man with even worse facial hair than the Nidaime.
"The boy definitely doesn't know how to wear a suit." Turmeric reported. "He either tries to pull the sleeves down or push them up, and the same goes for his tie. Not only does he not know how to tie one, he isn't used to its presence, so he keeps fidgeting with it. I'm pretty sure that Basil hasn't had contact with the mafia before, sir."
Iemitsu brightened like a puppy. It was disturbing, but workplace hazards and all that. "Then Basil's one of us for sure!"
Turmeric winced. "Basil's had a hectic day, so I'm going to let him wait till tomorrow to fill out his paperwork. That okay with you sir? And if you want to enroll him in Mafia school, you'll have to make arrangements soon."
So, vote! Do you want Basil to suffer through school for the third time in his/her life? Or are you kind enough to spare the kid that? Anything you want to see? Suggestions and prompts welcome. Let me know in the comments.
Next chap: In which Iemitsu starts suspecting that he picked up the antichrist.
