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demeter918, if she wants it. She gave me a virtual chocolate last week, so I got a prompt from her and was going to use it to write thank you fic, all sneaky-like. Only my brain took one look at the prompt and said: No, not gonna happen...but you can have this fic instead.
And so, I give you this fic, instead. Bleach Oh god no please no I never wanted this to happen oh god why???, rated G, occurring fairly early in the series with no spoilers to speak of. Thanks as ever tometal_dog5 for the usual encouragment.
Summary: Ichigo Kurosaki is this totally cool character with this totally cool sword who does this totally cool stuff like killing Hollows and beating a whole lot of really strong opponents in the afterlife.
But he's also, you know, in high school.
青春期
by Trismegistus
Ichigo stares out the window, props his chin in his hand, twiddles his pencil between his fingers. It doesn't help that it's spring. It doesn't help that girls' school uniforms have skirts instead of trousers. It doesn't help that he's fifteen fucking years old and everyone expects him to study hard and be a good student and concentrate on stuff when all his body wants to do is have sex.
It doesn't help that she's essentially four feet tall with tiny delicate wrists and huge dark serious eyes that make him feel all protective. It doesn't help that she could probably kick his ass all over the pavement if she knew he felt that way. If extenuating circumstances weren't currently intervening, that is.
Doesn't help that most of the other guys in his homeroom probably think the same things about her. Without the ass kicking, of course. Across the room, Keigo is flicking bits of eraser into Chiharu's clothing as she giggles and tries to flick them back when Omai-sensei isn't looking. Keigo's not the brightest, but if he liked Rukia he'd probably still hit on her, ass kicking or no.
Ichigo doesn't want to think about that, so he looks back out the window...and wonders what her skin would smell like in the sun. No good. He looks down at his lap and imagines her sitting in it. No good at all.
He wonders if she thinks he looks cool in his shinigami clothes. He wonders what she thinks about his hair. He knows she'd laugh if she knew he was worrying about that right now. The thought should make him angry, but it just makes him fervently wish he was cooler.
It doesn't help that they're stuck in the middle of the annual unit on classical Japanese – quite possibly the most boring subject on earth when the sun is shining. Everyone hates classical Japanese. It's useless and no one is good at it. Except for Rukia, but then again it probably wasn't all that classical back when she was learning it.
He realizes with a jolt that he's been called on. Omai-sensei is waiting for his answer and the entire class is looking at him. "Ah." His mouth opens and closes a few times, ineffectual.
"Oh, for..." Omai-sensei mutters. "Pay attention, Kurosaki.
"Let's see if one of our ladies isn't more on top of things, shall we?" She grabs the girls' attendance book and runs her hand down the page. "Six."
There is a long pause.
"Number six...?"
"Kuchiki-san!" Orihime taps Rukia on the forearm with her pencil.
Kurosaki. Kuchiki. Right next to each other on the attendance rolls. Of course it'd be her. He groans.
She hasn't been paying attention either, but then again, she doesn't need to. Rukia glances up, reels off the answer and then resumes whatever daydream she's been having. He can see it happening on her face.
"Excellent!" Omai-sensei crows. "Wonderful, Kuchiki-san! You're a natural."
Yeah, maybe, Ichigo thinks, but you should see her trying to negotiate a mechanical pencil.
Rukia glances back up and acknowledges the praise with an eyelash-fluttering nod and a faint blush of the cheeks that makes him have to look away even though he knows it's totally faked.
Of course, looking away means looking right at...that one kid. Ishihara? Ishiguro? Kurota...? Who's watching Rukia intently with alert, focused eyes.
Great, Ichigo groans. He probably thinks she's smart. And he knows for a fact that...that kid is smarter than he is. Maybe he should tell Rukia whatshisface likes to sew.
He'd never do it of course, but it is fun to think about.
Arts and crafts is looking straight at him with an expression of subdued contempt, and Ichigo realizes with a start that he's been staring at the guy for a while now. Someone snickers somewhere behind Ichigo's back.
Okay. Time to start paying attention to the lesson. Only, he really must have been staring for an awfully long time, because the chimes start up just as he's turning back to the blackboard and everyone is jamming textbooks and notebooks into their bags while Ochi-sensei hollers the end-of-day announcements at them from the head of the room, trying to make herself heard over the din.
Ichigo shoves his own books into his bag and kicks his chair into place behind his desk. He should probably go see if Rukia has some sort of training or something she wants him to do today. He's not sure whether he wants her to or not. He shoulders his bag and heads over to her side.
Orihime gets there first. "Wow, Kuchiki-san! You're really good at kokugo. How do you do learn it all so fast? I just can't keep it all straight in my head."
Rukia actually looks flattered and more than a little caught off-guard by Orihime's barrage of praise.
"Oh," she blinks, "I..."
Orihime doesn't even give her time to finish. "You must have studied at your old school, right?"
Rukia latches onto the excuse like a lifeline. "Yes!"
"Do you think you could help me a little? Not if you're busy, of course. And I'll make you dinner, too. I'm trying something new tonight. Tatsuki's going to come too—are you ready to go Tatsuki? I—"
Orihime twirls away and accosts Tatsuki in a whirlwind of cheerful energy, leaving Rukia standing shell-shocked in her wake. Ichigo knows his moment when he sees it. He takes a step toward Rukia.
"Hey, Kurosaki."
Keigo and Mizuiro are standing at his shoulder, Keigo's eager expression warning that he's got some crazy idea about something he wants them all to do together.
Ichigo rolls his eyes. He's never getting out of this classroom. "What do you want, Asano?"
"I have three words for you: Game. Boy. Advance."
He spares Keigo a brief glance out of the corner of his eye. "You gotta be kidding me."
"Three words, Kurosaki. Game. Boy. Advance. Yes."
"Yeah, well I got three for you: Freaking. Verb. Conjugations." He grabs his textbook from his bag and brandishes it in Keigo's face.
"Oh, lame."
Ichigo can't dispute that. He shoves the book back into his bag and raises his eyebrows.
"Come on, man, forget that stuff," Keigo urges. "Video games!"
"Nobody's got cram school tonight," Mizuiro offers. "We can go sit outside while we play, too."
Ichigo glances around the swiftly-emptying classroom. There's no sign of Orihime or Rukia. Even Ochi-sensei's already left for the staffroom. Sunlight pours through the windows, across the empty desks.
"Yeah, all right," he says.
これで以上です。
demeter918, if she wants it. She gave me a virtual chocolate last week, so I got a prompt from her and was going to use it to write thank you fic, all sneaky-like. Only my brain took one look at the prompt and said: No, not gonna happen...but you can have this fic instead.And so, I give you this fic, instead. Bleach Oh god no please no I never wanted this to happen oh god why???, rated G, occurring fairly early in the series with no spoilers to speak of. Thanks as ever to
metal_dog5 for the usual encouragment.Summary: Ichigo Kurosaki is this totally cool character with this totally cool sword who does this totally cool stuff like killing Hollows and beating a whole lot of really strong opponents in the afterlife.
But he's also, you know, in high school.
青春期
by Trismegistus
Ichigo stares out the window, props his chin in his hand, twiddles his pencil between his fingers. It doesn't help that it's spring. It doesn't help that girls' school uniforms have skirts instead of trousers. It doesn't help that he's fifteen fucking years old and everyone expects him to study hard and be a good student and concentrate on stuff when all his body wants to do is have sex.
It doesn't help that she's essentially four feet tall with tiny delicate wrists and huge dark serious eyes that make him feel all protective. It doesn't help that she could probably kick his ass all over the pavement if she knew he felt that way. If extenuating circumstances weren't currently intervening, that is.
Doesn't help that most of the other guys in his homeroom probably think the same things about her. Without the ass kicking, of course. Across the room, Keigo is flicking bits of eraser into Chiharu's clothing as she giggles and tries to flick them back when Omai-sensei isn't looking. Keigo's not the brightest, but if he liked Rukia he'd probably still hit on her, ass kicking or no.
Ichigo doesn't want to think about that, so he looks back out the window...and wonders what her skin would smell like in the sun. No good. He looks down at his lap and imagines her sitting in it. No good at all.
He wonders if she thinks he looks cool in his shinigami clothes. He wonders what she thinks about his hair. He knows she'd laugh if she knew he was worrying about that right now. The thought should make him angry, but it just makes him fervently wish he was cooler.
It doesn't help that they're stuck in the middle of the annual unit on classical Japanese – quite possibly the most boring subject on earth when the sun is shining. Everyone hates classical Japanese. It's useless and no one is good at it. Except for Rukia, but then again it probably wasn't all that classical back when she was learning it.
He realizes with a jolt that he's been called on. Omai-sensei is waiting for his answer and the entire class is looking at him. "Ah." His mouth opens and closes a few times, ineffectual.
"Oh, for..." Omai-sensei mutters. "Pay attention, Kurosaki.
"Let's see if one of our ladies isn't more on top of things, shall we?" She grabs the girls' attendance book and runs her hand down the page. "Six."
There is a long pause.
"Number six...?"
"Kuchiki-san!" Orihime taps Rukia on the forearm with her pencil.
Kurosaki. Kuchiki. Right next to each other on the attendance rolls. Of course it'd be her. He groans.
She hasn't been paying attention either, but then again, she doesn't need to. Rukia glances up, reels off the answer and then resumes whatever daydream she's been having. He can see it happening on her face.
"Excellent!" Omai-sensei crows. "Wonderful, Kuchiki-san! You're a natural."
Yeah, maybe, Ichigo thinks, but you should see her trying to negotiate a mechanical pencil.
Rukia glances back up and acknowledges the praise with an eyelash-fluttering nod and a faint blush of the cheeks that makes him have to look away even though he knows it's totally faked.
Of course, looking away means looking right at...that one kid. Ishihara? Ishiguro? Kurota...? Who's watching Rukia intently with alert, focused eyes.
Great, Ichigo groans. He probably thinks she's smart. And he knows for a fact that...that kid is smarter than he is. Maybe he should tell Rukia whatshisface likes to sew.
He'd never do it of course, but it is fun to think about.
Arts and crafts is looking straight at him with an expression of subdued contempt, and Ichigo realizes with a start that he's been staring at the guy for a while now. Someone snickers somewhere behind Ichigo's back.
Okay. Time to start paying attention to the lesson. Only, he really must have been staring for an awfully long time, because the chimes start up just as he's turning back to the blackboard and everyone is jamming textbooks and notebooks into their bags while Ochi-sensei hollers the end-of-day announcements at them from the head of the room, trying to make herself heard over the din.
Ichigo shoves his own books into his bag and kicks his chair into place behind his desk. He should probably go see if Rukia has some sort of training or something she wants him to do today. He's not sure whether he wants her to or not. He shoulders his bag and heads over to her side.
Orihime gets there first. "Wow, Kuchiki-san! You're really good at kokugo. How do you do learn it all so fast? I just can't keep it all straight in my head."
Rukia actually looks flattered and more than a little caught off-guard by Orihime's barrage of praise.
"Oh," she blinks, "I..."
Orihime doesn't even give her time to finish. "You must have studied at your old school, right?"
Rukia latches onto the excuse like a lifeline. "Yes!"
"Do you think you could help me a little? Not if you're busy, of course. And I'll make you dinner, too. I'm trying something new tonight. Tatsuki's going to come too—are you ready to go Tatsuki? I—"
Orihime twirls away and accosts Tatsuki in a whirlwind of cheerful energy, leaving Rukia standing shell-shocked in her wake. Ichigo knows his moment when he sees it. He takes a step toward Rukia.
"Hey, Kurosaki."
Keigo and Mizuiro are standing at his shoulder, Keigo's eager expression warning that he's got some crazy idea about something he wants them all to do together.
Ichigo rolls his eyes. He's never getting out of this classroom. "What do you want, Asano?"
"I have three words for you: Game. Boy. Advance."
He spares Keigo a brief glance out of the corner of his eye. "You gotta be kidding me."
"Three words, Kurosaki. Game. Boy. Advance. Yes."
"Yeah, well I got three for you: Freaking. Verb. Conjugations." He grabs his textbook from his bag and brandishes it in Keigo's face.
"Oh, lame."
Ichigo can't dispute that. He shoves the book back into his bag and raises his eyebrows.
"Come on, man, forget that stuff," Keigo urges. "Video games!"
"Nobody's got cram school tonight," Mizuiro offers. "We can go sit outside while we play, too."
Ichigo glances around the swiftly-emptying classroom. There's no sign of Orihime or Rukia. Even Ochi-sensei's already left for the staffroom. Sunlight pours through the windows, across the empty desks.
"Yeah, all right," he says.
これで以上です。
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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He wonders if she thinks he looks cool in his shinigami clothes.
Hahaha, Ichigo *would* wonder that.
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Hee. So cool that you put it back when he could never remember that one guy's name. Or existence.
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Oh, that was just so Ichigo! Hell yeah, he'd wonder how he looked in his Shinigami clothing and whether his hair looked good. He's fifteen for chrissakes. And living a relatively normal (um, besides the ghost-seeing and mom-death and... oh, never mind) life. And with CUTE RUKIAOMGCUTERUKIAOMGCUTERUKIA!!!!
... *cough* I get more worked up over Rukia than I do any of the male characters. I wonder what this means. ;)