Every Pairing Under the Sun
Author's Note: I was going to write a Hao/HoroHoro fanfic next as a particular challenge to myself. But this fic-drabble (fribble!) caught my attention, and I just couldn't HELP laughing out loud at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea. Hope everybody loves this as much as I did… and so far the pairings are going to be fribbled in this order: HaoxHoroHoro, FaustxManta, YohxOC, HaoxAnna, YohxTamao. With bouts in between, perhaps, as I go off on random tangents for the ignored minor characters. xP
Two more days until my break with You're Mine is over; I'll have the chapter up by that evening, I'd hope.
Disclaimer: Be glad I don't own Shaman King, or else the following scene might actually have been enacted in the series as, you know, an aftermath thing.
(Definite OOCness ahead. However, I hope that it's funny, so since you've been warned… walk on. This chapter is rated PG-13 for suggestive themes, etc, etc. Bah.)
Drabble Two: And the Moral of the Story Is…
The dark-haired shaman formerly known as Shaman King Hao (though he'd never actually grasped the title, he was certain that it was just a formality) sighed irritably.
The day in itself was a fine thing, all blue skies with nary a cloud in sight. Blue skies as blue as—
Damn. He'd started thinking about them again. Them, their big eyes, and big—
He really needed to get over this.
With a swift sigh as inflammable in nature as anything that he had ever burnt to a crisp with the Spirit of Fire, he rose to his feet, absentmindedly kicking away the dust from the ground away from his lego-like boots. What had possessed him to get them anyway? They were big, lumpy, and most probably terrible for moving in. But then again, a thousand years ago he'd been wearing a dress and a pointy hat – which was definitely not requisite monk wear. So he most probably should stop going down this train of thought right now before he began to wonder how many innkeepers had let him stay at their residences because they thought that he was g—
Although it would have been a lot easier to get rid of them if he'd been gay.
Casting a vaguely hunted look over his shoulder, his eyes widened minutely to see that his companions had vanished. Though he could hardly be terribly surprised; half of them would be, he knew, in their zeal to please him, hunting them down. The others would have run away in fear. And he could hardly blame them; they were a formidable force indeed.
A hand detached itself from his lump of robes, rising gently into the air to begin the summoning of the Spirit of Fire…
Before he was tackled by a moving blur that appeared to be screeching quite loudly in an unintelligible language quite unknown to him.
When he had recovered from the sudden attack, the brunet was quite miffed to discover two things:
1) There appeared to be some blonde lump sitting atop his stomach, so light that she hardly constricted his breathing. She, he managed to discern, through her high-pitched squealings, was the cause of the noise.
2) She'd gotten his robe all dusty. His favorite robe, too – not that anyone could distinguish the difference between them. But this was medium-lightest-dark beige, whereas the others varied between dark-light-medium beige, and light-light-slightly-off-white-although-not-really-white-because-white-was-a-symbol-of-good-and-if-he-was-anything-it-was-not-good beige.
Only after lamenting silently to himself for five minutes regarding the state of his now bedraggled wardrobe did he return his attention to the girl. She did not, in the midst of her squealings, appear to have paused for breath, though her speech had slowed to human comprehensibility now. The shaman was struck by a Faust-like urge to tear her ribcage open and wonder at the size of her lungs, though he had managed, at last, to identify the language she spoke.
A cutting, barbaric sort of tongue, not at all like the flowing Japanese to which he was accustomed. What was it called again? English? American? British? He couldn't recall, and felt no need to. Inferior bunch of badly-bred morons, anyway. Who could recall the last time anybody who couldn't speak Japanese had attained the title of Shaman King?
…
Exactly.
"OmigodomigodZekezekeyouaresosexydidImentionthatandbesideswhichwhenyoutakeoffyourrobeitissoHOT!" The blur squealed.
He blinked.
Ah. So she was one of them, then.
"If it would suit you." He said with his usual cruel amusement, masking all sentiments that were less than kind, "would you please get off of me? Before I burn you off?"
She blinked back at him in total confusion. "Your voice…" She said distantly. "It's…"
"Yes, I do realize it's the sexiest thing you've ever heard, but—"
"You don't speak Japanese, Zeke." She swatted at him lightly, impeding his breathing for no other reason than the fact that she had a very heavy hand. "Speak English in that sexy voice you used on TV!"
Zeke.
O Great Spirit, if only that idiotic television show had bothered to secure a translation of the show from a decent channel!
"My name," he said, remembering to use English this time, however awkwardly the words flowed from his tongue, "is not Zeke. It is Asakura Hao, and you would do well to remember it."
"Omigod." She was staring at him again, but in a distinctly misty fashion that made him want to edge away.
Or, for preference, burn her to a crisp. But he'd promised The Almighty Writers of the Script And Mankin Canon that if he was to do any burning, it would be on-stage; anywhere else, said idiot would be given six chances. Six, the devil's number.
"You must have amnesia!" She crowed contentedly, staring at him in apparent delight. "I've read about circum—affa—things like this!" Obviously the word 'circumstances' was beyond her vocabulary. "I'll nurse you back to health, and then you'll fall in love with me, and then we'll get married and live happily ever after! Oh Zeke…" She hugged his leg in a way that, unless he was willing to be more explicit, could only be termed a 'glomp'. "What a lucky, lucky boy you are!"
"Baka." Seething, in a moment he had knocked her over. Rising to his feet through the fuel of sheer rage, he glowered down at her imposingly. "I am not Zeke." He said curtly, biting his lip in order to refrain from shouting out a more explicit set of threats. "I am Asakura Hao, and if you've done quite enough to irritate me for the day, I advise you to go now." A tiny frown nestled between his brows as he thought. "How the hell did you get into our world anyway?"
"Mmm…" She said, in what she most probably thought a sensual voice. "You're so sexy when you're angry…" Pausing a moment, she giggled. "And I can see up your robes down here!"
But the shaman was too occupied in counting to pay much attention to her words.
"One, sitting on my stomach…" He murmured under his breath. "Two, getting my robe dusty… three, shouting in that irritating high pitched voice, four, calling me by the wrong name, five, sexual harassment and saying the word 'sexy' too much… Six…" He mused for a moment, rolling several contemplations over his tongue before smirking.
"Six for existing at all."
And with that, the unlucky fangirl was reduced to ashes.
And since all fairy tales come with morals, here's this one: If you're going to turn a certain Mankin character into your bishonen, worship him from afar. Worshipping him up-close will never work out unless you're non-flammable.
And in case that moral doesn't work out, a second one:
Run for your life, fanfiction authors. Asakura Hao is coming.
Author's Note: Yeah, you probably all saw that coming a mile away… ;) Ah well. Sorry, fangirls.
I know, it's a weird fic, but it's fifteen minutes long in the writing, and it's a pairing of sorts. Where else was I supposed to put it?
Read and review. You know what the next chapter is, unless you didn't read the note at the top…
Brief review replies:
Asn water: HaoxAnna is easy, which's why I'm saving it for last. Have you read the manga? I think Volume thirteen (?) promotes HaoxAnna in a BIG way. It's almost cute. n.n
Sakuuya: Hmm… FaustxManta is a bit harder, but not quite as hard, I think, as HaoxHoro, which's why it comes a bit later in the chapter.
soccer-cutie67: Well, I came close this chapter; HaoxOC. –grin- Sort of. Your two wishes are coming pretty close to last… basically because they're vaguely easy. YohxOC could be hard, though, depending.
Inulover4eva: Your wish hath been granted; HaoxFangirl… which I assume you are. –grin-
Azalee: HaoxHoro's coming up the next chapter; I have it half-done anyway, as I started yesterday.
SquirrelFraulein: Sankyuu!
Anna-Jay: There's not really anything to finish.. After I'm done with You're Mine if it still intrigues me I may pick it up again, but I doubt it…
