#wt fic

Hello all! There are ten (10!) of you now and that’s so fun! In honour of this landmark number I wanted to ask what you guys thought of me making fanficition recs?

I’ve read a lot of WT fanfic in the past couple months and I wanted to share the ones I liked the most. Perhaps on a weekly basis?

There’s a caveat however. I won’t be taking submissions. The fic I post would mostly be what I am interested in. Meaning usually gen fic, character studies or fic interested in worldbuilding. I’m not a shipping kind of girl so someone could perhaps rec or write the most beautiful heartbreaking ship fic and there’s a 60% chance my reaction would be: good soup but eh.

So to make it clear: I will be posting fic that I like reading. I don’t want to take submissions because I know (as a writer myself) how much work and care people put into fic and I don’t want the situation of not posting it simply because I’m not into it.

The 7th chapter to be published, but the first chapter in the timeline! Featuring one chronically overthinking Hyuse Tamakoma-Cronin-Aftokrator as he attends his first day of Meeden high school.

Hilariously enough, my first post for this fic on Tumblr is the point where the chronology of it eats shit and hits the fan.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Hyuse had agreed to join the Meeden military in exchange for a way home, he’d been under the impression that he’d be dedicating all of his time to work at Border. He was, after all, a hostage soldier, and he had thought that the Meedenites would’ve been sensible enough to take full advantage of his knowledge and abilities.

He had not, unfortunately, factored in going to school.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Why do they always chase after me?" Will thinks Angie is trying to bite into the words, but she just sounds weary.

He pulls his chair around to her side of the desk and knocks their knees together.

Chika folded her legs under her seat and put her hands under her chin. Osamu-kun would be along shortly to escort her back to Tamakoma for their team meeting and dinner; Izuho-chan was grabbing a drink and keeping Chika company until then.

Today had been a good training session. Chika thought about sniping positions, about hides and- 

“No, no,” said Kouda. “I’m not here to poach snipers, (ha ha ha the absurdity), I’m just here to tell you that I... understand.”

Chika looked at him. 

“I... understand!” he said, throwing out his arm, his chest puffing and his nose in the air.  “It’s a heavy burden we, the most gifted, the greatest blessed!- bear, but it is how it is! We can’t help being persecuted... pursued... wanting to protect, but needing to be protected!

“You... the Tamakoma Trion Monster...” he looked starry-eyed at being able to say the title, “And us, the three geniuses of the c-ranks!”

Chika shrivelled. She’d never wanted to be singled out- she’d never dreamed that that was why- she’d never known- 

Kouda leaned one arm on her table and threw a look back to his (unofficial) teammates. They, too, were posed to mirror his shame and suffering, his brave mien-

“Shoo, shoo!” commanded Natsume, arriving back at their table with her drink. “Chikako, are they bothering you? Go away and stop annoying the real agents!”

“You’re not B-rank either!” said Saotome. Izuho-chan glared him and he flinched. 

“We were just talking,” said Kouda, backing off. “Uh... Amatori, good match!”

“Talking out your butt,” said Izuho-chan, putting her hand over Chika’s, white and cold curled loosely on the lucite top. “Chikako, don’t mind!”

“I don’t know,” said Tachikawa, leaning his chair back and flipping his pencil back and forth between his fingers. He grinned. “That sounds a little much for the number two to ask of the number one.”

Ninomiya gritted his teeth and said, “Showing up to class?”

“You don’t know my life, man,” said Tachikawa. He kept grinning. “Being in A-rank... it’s hard. I’m not sure you can relate.”

Putting his head into his hands, screaming, or strangling Tachikawa would have been admitting defeat, besides encouraging a scolding from the Operators. “We were put together for this class because you told the Professor it’d be easier to co-ordinate schedules with another Border Agent.” On a day that Ninomiya had missed for a defense duty.

Tachikawa nodded his head. His empty, empty head. “I did say that,” he said. “I did.”

Ninomiya wanted for Tachikawa to finish the thought, but the number one agent just kept nodding and nodding until he nodded off. 

Ninomiya kicked Tachikawa’s chair. Tachikawa wobbled and almost tipped over, but steadied himself in time. 

"You seem tense,” he said. 

“We’re not even splitting up the work yet,” said Ninomiya. He didn’t precisely need this course, and wasn’t in danger of their coursework unduly affecting his grades, but it was annoying to think that any of his scores rested on someone as unreliable, as irresponsible and as empty-headed as Tachikawa. 

“We’ll work it out,” said Tachikawa. “We’re not even a week into the semester yet.”

“We’re five weeks into the semester,” said Ninomiya. Completely unreliable. This was a valued member of the away team. 

I hrrmed a lot about the premise… I hope this kind of… fits.. 

The so-called Forbidden Zone was a gold mine. Thousands of people had just packed up and left, hundreds had died- and dozens of home sat empty and unclaimed, their doors not even locked. 

All that was left was to walk in and just take anything that could carried away. The big stuff wasn’t worth anything a year out of date, but jewelry, cash... and he could always come back for the other stuff. It was amazing that the city had never tried to take back these areas, even with random monsters wandering around. Even the army had stayed away. 

“Whoops,” came a male voice from behind him. The thief reached for the knife he had inside his jacket- small use it’d be against one of those things, but he knew enough to handle a punk kid- and a gun barked, a glowing projectile burying itself in the wall next to his shoulder. 

“Whoops,” said the boy, in exactly the same tone. The thief collapsed to the floor, knees suddenly weak. 

“Oh~” said a girl. She walked through the door to the kitchen, bringing a- a glowing shape with her. At first his eyes refused to focus on it. It was a nightlight. Something. 

It pulsed as she walked towards them. “Is this all?” she sighed. “We’re really getting called out for small fry this time.”

“Still worth something,” said the boy, hefting his weapon. “Shame about him, though. No one pays attention to signs anymore.” 

He stared up at them in fear. “I’ve never heard about any-” he started. A gun barrel, hard, ridged, and still faintly warm, shoved into his mouth. 

“You’re hearing now,” the boy said. 

"You know I don’t like blood,” said the girl, pushing her long hair off her face, stepping back. Out of the way of the spatter. This couldn’t be- it wouldn’t really- 

“Okono...miyaki,” read Yuuma off the sign. 

“Never had it?” said Murakami. Yuuma’s hair puffed down under the weight of his hand. While Osamu and Chika were off training, Murakami had invited Yuuma out to eat with him. Yuuma quite liked Murakami, so he’d accepted. 

“No,” said Yuuma, looking up at the older boy. There had been many things about Miden his father sometimes sighed nostalgically about, but he couldn’t remember this being one of them. “What is it?”

“Faster to just show you,” said Murakami. 

They pushed into the shop, which was mostly empty at this time in the evening. 

“Two fo- oh, it’s you two,” said Kageura. 

Yumma grinned at him. He now understood why they’d come all the way out here even though the Border Cafeteria was still serving meals. “Good-evening,” he said, very politely. His mouth widened. 

“Two,” said Murakami. A smile tugged at his serious mouth, too. 

Kageura eyed them sourly and tossed a couple of menus at them. “Seat your damn selves,” he said. “You’ll get water and like it.”

Yuuma continued to grin at Kageura stomping about the shop floor, straightening tables that didn’t need any attention. 

Murakami ordered for both of them. While they were trying to cook their order, Kageura came over and said, “You’re not doing it right,” efficiently cooking and flipping Yuuma’s okonomiyaki while Yuuma watched with interest. 

“I see... I see,” he muttered to himself. 

“What good service today,” said Murakami to Kageura. 

Kageura flipped him off, spatula still in hand. “You can’t even cook one, shut up,” he said. 

“The cooking surface is...” said Yuuma, touching it with his finger. 

Both the older boys freaked out but Kageura got there first, smacking Yuuma away from the hotplate.

“It’s okay, nothing happened,” said Yuuma, showing them his hand. The trion body wouldn’t be harmed by something like that.

They breathed a sigh of relief. 

“You’re too careless, runt,” Kageura said. 

“It smells good,” said Yuuma innocently. “Is it ready yet?”

“It’s n- shit!” said Kageura, quickly flipping the pancake. They all peered at it. It was browned, but still looked and smelled great. 

“Kage’s got it,” said Murakami. 

“Does Kageura-sempai’s side effect include sensing doneness?” said Yuuma. 

“Keep talking,” said Kageura. “You could still end up wearing this.”

“An interesting and stylish... hat?” said Yuuma. 

Murakami and Kageura both looked at him. Yuuma moved his hands around his head, imagining such an accessory. 

"-Any questions?” said Arashiyama, finishing the introduction spiel and looking over the new C-rank agents. They looked slightly stunned, as well they might. It was a lot of information to take in at once. Border’s recruitment efforts were beginning to expand, it was sometimes hard to remember that these kids didn’t even know what a trigger was yet, let alone trion. 

A hand went up.

“Yes?” said Arashiyama. 

“Kitora Ai,” said a middle schooler. She’d chosen a gunner trigger. “Thank you for your explanation, Arashiyama-san. Am I correct in assuming that we will be given the opportunity to form squads like Arashiyama Squad once we become B-rank agents, along with the other responsibilities of rank?”

“Yes!” said Arashiyama. “While you’re in training, you’ll meet other agents as well as your friends here right now, and the squads will naturally organise themselves out of your own initiative.” 

“I can’t imagine what an honour it would be to be offered a place in an A-rank squad like Arashiyama Squad as a fresh B-rank trainee,” said Kitora Ai, composedly. “The applicant would have to be of astounding ability and poise. They would have to be intelligent, well-presented, well-spoken, able to carry the image of Border and, of course, a capable and resourceful agent and combatant in order to protect the townspeople.”

A momentary pause. The overhead lighting spangled off Kitora’s stylishly-cut hair. Every new agent moved their gazes from Kitora to Captain Arashiyama.