|Hiei and the Masters of the Pokeverse
Author: Kioji PM
Having failed to consume the Dragon of the Darkness Flame, Hiei is strewn through time and space itself, suffering unimaginable pain as his demonic power is stripped away, only to find himself faced with his greatest challenge yet. Pikachu. Crossover!Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Parody - Hiei - Chapters: 3 - Words: 5,237 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 07-10-09 - Published: 07-08-09 - id: 5201051
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
This is for Stephanie!
(all rights to Pokémon , Yu Yu Hakusho, DBZ, Zelda, Gundam Wing, Princess Tutu, Yu-Gi-Oh, John Nidositko IV, Kakashi, and Vincent Lecavileir—disclaimed!)
Hiei and the Masters of the Pokeverse
A Crack Fic.
The Crackiest One You'll Ever Find.
Hiei predicted hell to be a scary place—brimming with the moral rejects and most powerful of blood-lusting demons, tripping over itself with the scourge of both the human and demon realms, blazing, insatiable flames lashing, screaming and hissing for his soul—so as he flailed through space and time itself, he braced himself for his end. After all, no matter how much of an asset he was to the upper management, he doubted his feet would be allowed to besmirch the front gates of heaven. Hiei resigned himself to it—after all, he wasn't expecting anything better than an eternity burning like pot roast. It's not like he expected to submit right away, anyway. He'd just as soon kiss his own balls before he let his destiny be manhandled without his consent. Hell, it might even fun, seeing how long he could fend off the devil's assassins. Hiei might even get a shot at Satan himself, if he was lucky.
As he tumbled through obscurity, he cursed his inability to master the dragon of the darkness flame, instead letting himself be consumed by his own summon. Hiei risked everything on his indomitable willpower—and thusly lost everything. No doubt his team—his friends, if he dared admit—were running around in a frenzy, if not desecrated by his backfired attack, left with the rest of his mess and the Toguro duo. Perhaps he did deserve his own personal spit above an open flame for his shear stupidity.
Blinding pain rippled out from his third eye, swiftly draining his mind of coherent thought. Smoldering from the inside, Hiei couldn't even bring himself to scream as his very soul was torn from every pore and abrasion on his body, his own internal flames manifesting in a vacuum around him. He twisted in agony, almost panicking when the inferno appeared to increase exponentially with every spasm and fluctuation.
Hiei continued to barrel through the endless black, paralyzed with pain—but laughing on the inside at his pure disastrous luck. It seems they wouldn't even let him into hell, instead letting him squirm in his own flammable body fluids outside of reality.
So much for that.
Piercing through Hiei's torture, light streamed from somewhere ahead, engulfing him in another kind of sightless fall into oblivion. He might have dared to hope, but the shear amount of pain building in his gut dissuaded any notion of optimism.
And then, as quickly as the pain blossomed, it dissipated, unfurling into a powerful lack of sensation. Hiei almost preferred the pain to the numbness—he couldn't tell his ass from his ankle; much less feel his own existence apart from the sudden swirling blue and white. He lifted his head, trying to grasp the abrupt source of color and light, realizing with a pang of surprise that the passing curls of transparent white also had form, if barely. Hiei squinted his eyes, discovering slowly he was no longer hurling through nothingness, but falling by the force of gravity—and that the moist colorless haze bore semblance to dense cloud cover.
Hiei nearly snorted—from the frying pan into the boiler, it seemed. As if being scorched from the inside out wasn't enough, now he had to plummet headfirst into his demise. Would he be incinerated by the hellish flames before he ever reached the surface? Or perhaps a giant trampoline rested below, keeping him in one piece after his fall so he could suffer another more painful treatment? Or perhaps a field of man eating plants, growing tall into the sky in hope of a tasty meal via sky vomit. Perfect. The infamous Hiei—now destined to be little less than the crusty buildup in plant fertilizer.
The sky started to clear as he neared his final destination, but it was not endless flames or mutated Venus fly-traps waiting for him below. To his shock, it was a trampoline, or at least something like it. Still high above it, Hiei tried to print a clear picture of the scene below him, finally discerning the spoke-like folds and drops of the dim circular object centered in a vacant field surrounded by lush, full trees. He could make out moving dots trailing in and out of the clearing, guessing they could only be the demons waiting for him to make a face print in their cruel joke of a soft landing.
Another rush of opaque clouds obstructed his cautious observation, blocking his view for countless seconds before disappearing behind him. Hiei crossed his arms in midair, figuring himself about fifteen seconds from a graceless dive into the arms of death. No matter—life was wasted on a talentless criminal like him anyway, his only regret being he couldn't be around longer to watch over Yukina. He closed his eyes, amused that hell could be so cool and green.
His shoulder was the first to hit, somehow tearing the cloth-like substance fairly painlessly and allowing the rest of his body to glide through and crash land on another layer of sturdy fabric. Winded, he instinctively flailed his arms to secure himself, unable to stop his sideways descent towards the end of the material, his nails biting into the textile with a chilling nails-on-chalkboard sound. Hiei's legs dropped over the ledge, but he managed to snag a hold of the giving cloth before he fell any further.
Blinking in shock, he looked down, locked onto the gaze of wide-eyed creature with yellow fur and crimson cheeks. Seeing the ground was only another ten feet below him, he released his grip on the coarse material and clumsily landed on his side. He gathered himself to his knees, uncharacteristically dizzy and weakened.
Most of you are probably thinking--"What. In. God's. Name. Is. Going. On." Patience! I dislike laying all the cards out at once, but I know this is probably confusing. It clears up.