MaLoki 20 AUs: crossovers
because other worlds are fun to play with




7. The lines of fire and earth¹
because, you know, ninjas!

Their paths were set out long before they were there to walk them, drawn by generations of training and tradition and, above all else, blood: these are your powers, these your responsibilities, this your house and the ties that you will never escape -- not even the missing-nin can erase that which they carry in their veins. Not every family has a bloodline, but those who do are never allowed to forget it. Even Higashiyama Kazumi, damned as he is by the inappropriate surname ( his mother's, which makes it worse in a way ), is reminded always of to whom he owes his skills.

Outsiders look at Kazumi with a mix of pity and disgust. Bastard children are rare in Konoha, especially in the large clans, a fact due to pragmatism as much as anything else: one has to keep the clan's abilities within the house.² In theory, Kazumi could have gone his whole life without the Sharingan awakening, but he possessed a precocity that damned him almost as much as his origins. The Uchiha clan does not acknowledge him outright, but has followed his stellar progress in the academy, and their scepticism has turned to anger at the talent that could have been theirs.

There is only one person in the academy who seems inclined to acknowledge his existence with anything better than contempt. It is his teacher, which is not in itself surprising; what is surprising is the fact that she is a branch house Hyuuga.

After school Kazumi sits alone at his usual place on the wall and stares out at nothing. His tall, dark-haired teacher talks to him on those quiet afternoons, and her words are not what one would except from a member of the clan that understands fate better than any other.


¹Uchiha = fire, Hyuuga = earth. Well, it made sense to me.
² I am assuming that the Sharingan is a dominant genetic trait, like the Byakugan, even if the rate of occurrence in canon suggests otherwise. Tralala!




11. Saturday at the matinee
because I have to acknowledge my first fandom love

Sometimes Heimdall wishes that Persia was a little less bloody-minded. Saturday afternoon at a crowded cinema is neither the time nor place for a clean assassination. ( In Heimdall's case it is never a clean assassination, of course, but at least the bloodstains are less obvious at night. )

"I don't suppose," he mutters into his comm unit, "that Persia mentioned exactly why the target had to be killed here and now."

"Afraid not," Loki replies, the static doing nothing to mask the cheerfulness in his voice. "But hey, it's Yamino's turn today, so it's not like you have to worry. Unless that's what's bothering you? I'm sure you'll get your chance to kill someone, the next time around."

"I can't get a clear shot," Yamino says, sounding more like a flustered teenager than a professional murderer. Heimdall resists the urge to snap at him, and contents himself with wondering how Yamino still manages to be so efficient with his kills. "...Loki-san? What should I do? I think there might be people heading to the second-floor balcony soon--"

"Go ahead, Yamino. He should be in range by now, right? Take your time, doesn't matter if you take out his bodyguards as well -- just avoid the civilians."

"And make sure you avoid me!" Narugami's voice is accompanied by an anxious crackle of static; Heimdall winces, and adjusts the volume of his unit. "It's hard enough tailing this guy as it is, I don't want to end up with one of those darts in my shoulder."

Later, when they're leaving the scene in Loki's flashy ( and impractical ) sports car, Yamino starts humming softly to himself, and it doesn't take long for Loki to start singing. Heimdall closes his eyes, adds a few more points to the list of things he hates about team Norden, and wishes, not for the first time, that he had been assigned to Weiss instead.




12. The grace of
because Yamino/Susumu came up in that 'list 12 characters' meme

Susumu first meets the man on the wall of the Shinsengumi compound, in circumstances that are less than promising. The lenses that hide the stranger's eyes catch the light of the lanterns, and shine disquietingly; spectacles are still something of a rarity, and Susumu wonders distractedly how one can be a spy with such an obvious weakness.

If there are other weaknesses, though, they are well hidden. The man moves too fast, too fluidly -- Susumu has been taught to subdue first and ask questions later, so it is somewhat embarrassing when it turns out that the intruder has received similar training.

"Yamazaki Susumu-san, I presume?" The voice would have been ridiculously polite under any circumstances, and is especially so when compared to the businesslike grip that is pinning Susumu down securely by the neck. Susumu stares up at the glinting lenses, fighting the anger that rises at the civil tone and the shame of being trapped like this on the roof of one of the Shinsengumi's own buildings. He responds to the question by pulling out a kunai with his free hand -- but then the hand disappears from around his neck, and his other wrist is free, and Susumu blinks as the intruder reappears a safe distance away.

"Yamino Ryuusuke," the man says softly, and it takes a moment for Susumu to recognise it as an introduction. Who are you working for? Susumu wants to ask. And then the more important question: Why? Nothing about Yamino makes sense -- his posture readied but lacking confidence, his politeness against the deadly efficiency of his movements, his deadly grace compared to the way he now pushes his spectacles up, awkwardly, and gives a slight bow before he disappears off across the roofs.

Susumu doesn't believe in much; he doesn't need to. Yet the next morning he finds himself believing that he will meet that man again, by the grace of fate or chance or higher powers; and despite his loyalties and his duty, he knows that he wants to.

Yamino. The name is fitting for one who walks the night. Susumu wonders what his eyes look like behind those unreadable glasses. The next time they meet, Susumu decides, he will find out.




23. The fragility of strength
because Otogakure is very convenient for crossovers

Kabuto watches with unfeigned interest as Loki's fingers stiffen and claw at the sheets, the restraints creaking as his back arches in a reflex response to pain. Kabuto is not a sadist, of course; the observation is a merely technical one. It is a strange, almost illogical bloodline to have, and Kabuto wonders if the poison affects more than the nervous system, what the long-term psychological effects are, how great the potential power must be to compensate for these regular attacks of pain. He is, of course, not smiling. ( It is not as though anyone would notice if he were. )

Eventually, Loki is still. Kabuto brushes the hair from his patient's face, notes the damp coldness of the skin. He wonders why Loki should believe that the price he has to pay for his bloodline is worth it.

"This situation feels strangely familiar, Loki-kun," Kabuto begins lightly, while drawing a blood sample from one of the many too-dark veins that snake along Loki's arm. The light in Loki's eyes has faded from madness to an odd, complacent amusement, and the clenched set of his jaw has relaxed into a smile; as used to the act of observation as Kabuto is, the difference is still fascinating. Still, the pause is not long enough for Loki to have time to react to it, and Kabuto goes on. "Not that he was anything like you. Just: the same wasted potential, power trapped inside a body too weak to use it. Died, of course. Still. A bloodline that you wouldn't believe."

Loki's smile doesn't widen, but it changes in a way Kabuto cannot quite place. "I'm not in a position to underestimate blood."

Kabuto draws the needle out, carefully. When he turns back, gauze in hand, Loki's blood has already drawn dark lines down his arm. Loki sounds almost apologetic when he says, still smiling, "Another side effect. Thins the blood, wouldn't you know."

Kabuto is careful not to get any of Loki's blood on his own skin. He doesn't actually say, I don't understand why Orochimaru wants you, but it's clear enough. Loki laughs a little as Kabuto prepares to leave. "Perhaps," he says, flexing too-thin fingers experimentally against the sheets, "you're asking the wrong question."