Nice to meet you! The name's Rishi. This is a place where Rishi posts fanfiction~! Yayz.

Neway, about Rishi...Rishi ish five-teen, Rishi talks in third person, Rishi loves making WORLD posts, Rishi's hyper and talks in third person, Rishi love love loooves manga (<3) and Rishi ish TEH GENKI GIRL!!! Don't know what that is? Lookit up!

Most of the stuff posted up here is nominated for publication, so be sure to check if it gets published. Please hug~cause hugs are niiiiice.

Rishi will write anything you would like! Just request it! Seriously!


You can find more about Rishi if you scroll around Rishi's WORLDS!

Favorite WORD fiction:

This one's adorable. Nuff said.

A sad little fic where Rishi's feelings for a special someone are voiced and...

Just a memory

A cute Naruto ficlit that deals with Hanabi's jealousy of Hani and her yearning for a "Big Brother"


Big Deal

Purin looked up at the dark night sky. She could see hundreds-—no, thousands-—of stars that night. “I wonder where Tar-Tar is.” Purin said to herself, her eyes glued to the sky. It had been six years since she had said goodbye to her friend. She was now fourteen. Her hair had been kept short and untidy, and her golden eyes were still almost always bright and energetic.

But not on days where the sky shined like this.

Purin kept her eyes glued to the stars. She had become obsessed with them over the years, thinking that maybe he was on one of them. “Is he on that one? No...not bright enough. Tar-Tar would want a bright place. What about that one? Maybe...” she trailed off, the beauty of the sky taking the place of her silence.

“Tar-Tar...” Purin could feel her eyes getting damp. “Tar-Tar, where are you?!” she shouted, yelling to the sky. “I miss you, Tar-Tar! I want you to be here...” the tears in her eyes were falling-—drip, drip, drip. “Come back! I have candy for you!!” she yelled.

Purin continued to yell, until her voice became hoarse, her throat sore and her eyes nearly out of tears. Still, she cried and called out to the boy she loved-—Taruto.

Soon, she was on her knees, her hands digging into the ground, panting. Her voice hurt, and her eyes were tired from crying so much. She wiped away the tears off her wet face, but they still kept coming, even faster than before. “Nngh...” she sobbed.

“What are you crying for, kid?”

Purin looked up. There he stood, his eyes soft. He had grown since she had last seen him. He was finally taller than she was. His pigtails were no longer there, but Purin could still regonize him. The soft brown hair, the yellow eyes, the pointed ears... “Tar-Tar...” she said tearfully.

“Will you stop calling me by that stupid nickname?”

Purin looked up in awe. “Tar-Tar...You came...?”

He looked away shamelessly, a bit childish. “I really liked that candy. I want some more. I could hear you crying and saying you had some, so...”

Taruto was promptly cut off by a hug. Purin had wrapped his arms around him, tightly gripping his black shirt. “Tar-Tar...” she sobbed. “Tar-Tar...Tar-Tar...!”

Taruto smiled, tossling Purin’s hair. “Yeah, it’s me. Big deal.”

And it was a very big deal indeed.

The End.


Warning: Melencholic mood.


I haven't really written like this, on the spur of the moment, in a long time.

Currently, I'm in my World History II class. Everyone else is talking like there's no time. How boring. It's kind of lonley here, since I don't have any friends in this class. Everyone is either snobby, normal or a football player. Guess I'm just the fish out of water here.

I can't think of any good stories as of late. My mind is at a blank...although, I could just write about things that happen to me in my life and label it 'fiction', even though it's really not. I've written enough memories down, so why not more? What's with me, anyway? I'm so...weird.

...well, I am classified as a 'retard', so why can't I be 'weird' too?

You heard me. I'm classified as medically retarded. Guess that shatters every one of your thoughts about me, huh? You thought I was like all of you--just a normal anime/manga addict.

I'm not sure about posting this, but again, like I said, I don't really have much to write about. I'll post something eventually, and you'll all forget about this post. Meh. That's life.

Or will you really remember my confession? Will you care?

When I was four years old, a freak accident cracked my skull. I'm injured in more places you can count on one hand. When I say I'm messed up in the head, I'm not kidding.

So, what do you think of me now?

About 'Strangers'

When Rishi was walking from lunch a long time ago, Rishi saw a girl crying, and a boy hugging her. Rishi felt sad for the girl, so Rishi walked up to her and put Rishi's hand on the girl's shoulder. The girl looked up and Rishi said, and Rishi quotes:

"I.....I don't know what's wrong. But I know that whatever it is, it'll pass eventually. Because I know that once it's past, you can look back..."

......And Rishi sort of stammered off there. Rishi sort of felt embarrassed. So Rishi handed a picture that Rishi was working on to her and scurried off. Rishi is such a coward! V/////V *tear*

So that's Rishi's story for today. It reminds Rishi that the world is big, and everyone has their own problems to deal with. It just reminds you that no matter what, someone out there will always have a problem. It blows Rishi's mind.

Rishi wonders what that girl will do with that picture.

Please comment! Rishi wants to hear from everyone.

bye bye~


Something that happened a while ago, and getting to writing it now.


I looked up at Jim, who stood in front of me. The curly brown hair on his head was matted, and his brown eyes looked at me, concerned. He placed his hands on my shoulders. “What’s wrong, Sara?” He asked.

I quickly shook my head, the tears falling down. “I don’t want to talk about it.” I whispered. I tried to step back, but he had me in his grip. He pulled me closer, and stroked my blond hair, soothing me and trying to calm me down. Why didn’t he understand that I’d never be calm again?

The school hallway was empty. Ever so slowly, I leaned into him, his strong
arms, and sobbed quietly. The next few minutes were in silence.

“’Scuze me…”

Both Jim and I looked up. There was a small girl, maybe a freshman, standing in front of us. She had wild, bouncy brown hair, glasses and the prettiest blue eyes I had ever seen. She was clutching a folder, and I noticed all the paper that was in it.

“…what?” I asked, trying to keep a smile.

The girl stepped forward. “I…I don’t know what’s wrong.” She started. “But, no matter what…” the girl was trying to find the right words. “No matter what, no matter how things are bad…you can always make it through them. You don’t have to be sad forever…especially if you have someone by your side.” The girl, completely unknown to both me and Jim, nodded at Jim. The girl looked back down and shuffled her brown shoes.

She quickly pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to me. “This is for you” She said, letting go of the picture. “Feel better, okay?”

With that, the tiny girl ran off, down the hallway, and finally out of sight.

I looked at the picture in my hands. It was penciled out, a boy with spiked blond hair with a hat on. It looked as if he was taking a nap. I couldn’t help but smile. How would I tell my friends that a girl whom I didn’t even know gave me this? I laughed as Jim and I headed back to our classroom, his strong arm over my shoulder.

Sometimes, strangers can have more of an effect of you then your friends do.

So Where Do I Belong?

I am not one of them

I associate with them, but I am not one of them. I do not smile with dead eyes like them. I do not speak like them. I am one of you.

But, at the same time, I am not one of you. I was born one of you, but I am no longer one of you.

I do not belong with you. I do not belong with them.

So where do I belong?

You treat me as if I am one of them. You smile fakely at me when I'm with them, like you do to them. You pretend as if I'm special to you. You are a liar. I feel sorry for them. They do not know that you are a liar.

I am not one of them. But I am not one of you.

So where do I belong?