Reborn enters into the Sawadas' household, but doesn't realize that what was Iemitsu's little boy is now his young daughter.

Bitty is in Annie’s, bent over his textbooks and wondering, not for the first time, why he decided to take French as a language (oh yes, it’s because so many old recipes are written in French, he’s going abroad there to study food history, can’t wait for the summer; half of fall and then winter semester until he goes, but that doesn’t help him now does it) , when he hears someone clear their throat. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” Oh boy. Eric doesn’t even bother lifting up his head. “Sorry, not a girl and not interested.”

Sasuke could care less about being trans-- until he is betrayed utterly and completely by his own body. He can't get off. It's a problem. (Or: “Who the fuck else am I going to ask?” Sasuke looks away, catches himself, and makes himself look back. He’s got a dojutsu, for fuck’s sake. He’s not afraid of eye contact. “No one.” Naruto snaps, almost offended by the idea, and it’s Sasuke’s turn to be surprised. “Sakura, maybe.” He amends. “Obviously it’s you.” Sasuke masks his surprise with haughty arrogance, but the words come out true-- so true. Obviously, it’s you. They ring like a bell through the room and through Sasuke’s rib cage, reflecting in Naruto’s eyes. “It’s always gonna be you.”)

Curly-Brow hisses, “What, exactly, am I supposed to have them do?” The guy looks at Zoro and adds, “Amputation via sword?” “Clerical, scribing, changing bedpans? The world’s your fuckin’ oyster and they,” Dr. Old Man thrusts a wrinkled thumb at them, “are your fuckin’ problem now.” Luffy takes this moment to wave and bound right up to the nurse with a chirp of, “Hi! I’m Monkey D. Luffy and I’m gonna’ be the Pirate King. Sorry about your roof.” The nurse stares at Luffy for a solid five seconds, unblinking. Nami whispers despairingly, “Oh my fucking gods.” The nurse turns back to Dr. Old Man and asks, “Am I allowed to submit this one for a psych eval?” -- In which Sanji is the crew's doctor and not their cook. This changes remarkably little.

“Oh, come on. You know I’m half-Kryptonian. I can hear your heartbeat. I could smell you getting wet like a slut and making a mess of your boxers when you saw Tim’s cock.” “Watch your mouth, Lex-brat,” Jason growls dangerously. “I'm pretty sure I'm not the slut here.” Kon gives him the finger. “Come sit on my face and watch it yourself, coward.”