Tiger Got to Hunt, Bird Got to Fly (ch. 8)
VIII. WHERE THERE IS HONEY
Captain Ichimaru’s hand on his back sent shivers down Kira’s spine. He had nearly forgotten how intoxicating it was to know he was serving under one of the men he most admired, and especially when that person was Ichimaru, whose every touch elicited a gut-twisting response. If it had been anyone else, Kira would have said that he was nervous out of embarrassment because it was too great of an honor to be given a personal tour by the captain himself. But it wasn’t just “anyone else”. It was Ichimaru Gin, and Kira didn’t know what to make of the situation. With Gin, it was embarrassing in a different way; it was embarrassing because of how much he wanted the teasing to mean something more than what it was.
Ichimaru guided him along until they reached the drilling grounds. They stopped in front of what appeared to Kira to be the entire division. Of course it couldn’t be... Kira was familiar with the workings of a division, and he knew It was too much of a hassle to run training programs for everyone at once. Rationally speaking, division members had to be put on a rotating schedule in order for everyone to get a little one-on-one training with the captain or his higher ranked officers.
Nervousness made the group appear larger. Kira swallowed down his social anxiety. Seeing the other members settle themselves into neat rows, Kira also moved to join them, but Ichimaru’s arm snaked around his waist and kept him there. He couldn’t move; he started to shake. And hundreds of pairs of eyes were trained on him, burying him under the weight of their expectations.
“This here’s Kira Izuru, and I’ve put ‘im down on the roster as a fourth seat.”
He immediately jolted. “What? Captain, when did you decide this? W-why didn’t you tell me?”
Kira’s palms began to sweat. The onlookers murmured amongst each other. Some sniggered at him, and he swore he saw someone push through to the front and proclaim them to be “fourth seat buddies”.
Ichimaru took it all in stride. “Well, ya didn’t want third, and ya didn’t want lieutenant, so’s I thought I wouldn’t ask ya anymore!”
The response was so flippant that Kira felt himself falling deeper into shock and losing his grip on the present. The murmuring grew louder. He felt light-headed. He couldn’t think clearly except to wonder why. Why had Ichimaru pulled him up here? Why was he being turned into a spectacle for the others to gawk at? Why?
“Ooh, look how red he’s turning! He’s so cute!” The bubbly young woman in the front row practically bounced in place as she gushed. Kira recognized her as his supposed ‘fourth seat buddy’. She smiled at him predatorily.
“Isn’t he?” Ichimaru stood behind Kira and reached around to pat the younger man’s cheeks. “Cutie pie here will be leadin’ today’s training!”
“Captain, it’s... It’s my first day!”
Ichimaru moved so that they were facing each other, the captain’s tall frame blocking Kira from sight. “I trust ya. I want ya to do this,” he said in a low voice. “You’re good enough, Izuru. You’re more’n enough. You’re perfect for this.”
Here, shadowed, Ichimaru cocked his head to the side and took the edge off his smile. And perhaps, if Kira thought his captain’s expression was almost as soft as his voice, perhaps it was but mere hallucination. Kira nodded anyway, because he needed this. This, the validation of his skills as a warrior, was what he had been craving.
When Captain Ichimaru stepped aside, the newest member of the Third Division had already steeled his face into cool concentration. The hundreds of eyes that were looking at him were under his command, and he met their gaze as well as he could. He moved his hand away from the sash and down to the hilt of his sword.
“Zanpakutou out!” He unsheathed Wabisuke, the blade slicing through air. “Mid-level stance!”
The rows of shinigami obeyed at once. They stepped together in formation and swung their blades at Kira’s call.
---
Gin leaned back and surveyed the scene through half-lidded eyes. He took in Izuru’s form and footwork as he led the squad through their exercises. Taking in the elegant flow from defensive stances to offensive, from guarding low and attacking high, one couldn’t tell that Izuru had been off the battlefield for so long. As he thought, Izuru was perfect.
They began working on the more repetitive drills: a hundred horizontal slashes, a hundred vertical slashes, a hundred thrusts, a hundred blocks. As their captain, Gin should have stayed to observe the whole thing, but he trusted Izuru to do a good job. Izuru could stick up for himself, no matter how weak he seemed to the unobservant. Anyone who wanted to challenge him was in for a nasty surprise... The thought brought a smile to Gin’s face as he turned to leave, assured that all was well. For now, at least.
---
Kira glanced around the emptying training ground, hoping that it didn’t make him look too nervous. He was trying to catch a glimpse of their captain, though he suspected that Ichimaru had already left.
“You’re not too shabby with a sword, man.”
Never one for being rude, Kira reluctantly brought his attention to the man currently speaking to him. It was a shorter man who had addressed him, with bright eyes and youthful features; his lips the type that naturally curled upwards at the ends in a permanently pleasant expression.
“Th-thank you...ah...” The face seemed familiar, but Kira struggled to pin down the name.
“Don’t remember, Kira-san? It’s me, Tsuchida.”
“Oh! Tsuchida-san from the Fifth, yes? I’m so sorry, I don’t know where my head went. And we were in the same division once, too.” Yes, Tsuchida, who had been a few years behind him at the academy, and whom Kira had somewhat envied for the easy way he made friends.
“No, it’s nothing. But hey, we’re in the same division again. It must be fate!”
“Yes, indeed.”
Tsuchida smiled shyly, his eyes darting glances at Kira. “I was kidding before. ‘Not too shabby’ doesn’t do you justice. This might sound stupid, but I’ve always admired your skills.” He sighed and looked down at his zanpakutou. “I could never get my movements to flow like that.”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to in time,” Kira said. He hoped this was what he was supposed to say, though truthfully he had never been good at giving encouragement.
Tsuchida seemed to accept that, and offered to introduce Kira to some of his new friends. They walked across the grounds in companionable silence peppered with a few questions from Kira regarding the atmosphere of the division.
Tsuchida was safe; Tsuchida was familiar. They had never been especially close in the Fifth Division, nor did they avoid contact. Somehow, it seemed that they were perhaps too similar in personality, both too reserved, to seek each other out. It was the uncertainty of being in a new environment that gave Tsuchida the boost he needed to approach Kira. And that was precisely why Kira had, in the past, often mused that his life would be easier if only he were as attractive as Tsuchida. Neither was prone to making the first move, and yet it was always Tsuchida whose upbeat appearance drew in friends like flies to honey.
Kira nearly sighed at the thought of having to rely on his kouhai to help him make friends. He caught himself before he let out the exhalation, but Tsuchida seemed to pick up on it and extrapolated upon it in the wrong direction.
“Don’t worry about Miyama,” he said. “I struck a deal with the rest of the Estrogen Brigade. They’re watching over her so she doesn’t devour you.”
“Miyama? D-devour?” Kira had no idea how they had ended up on this topic. And who were they talking about, anyway?
“Eh, I dunno how to put this... Miyama Chieko, she, well, you know...”
Kira’s eyes widened in realization. “The one who...” He trailed off for lack of words.
“Yeah, that’s her. Your ‘fourth seat buddy’. And before you ask, the Estrogen Brigade is just what we call the women who’ve monopolized most of the third, fourth, and fifth seats.
“Are they so strong, the women of the Third Division?”
“Th-that’s... Sorry, we’ll have to continue this conversation later. My partner’s right over there. Hey, Kano!” Tsuchida waved to a spiky-haired young man flanked by two others. “Kano and I are going on patrol, so I’ll see you!”
Tsuchida latched on to his tall friend, Kano. Kano nodded to Kira and said, “These two are Aida and Inose.” He gestured to the others, the sharp-featured Aida and barrel-chested Inose. “They’re free today, so go ahead and ask them anything. See you around.”
With Tsuchida gone, Kira was once more surrounded by strangers.
“You got something to ask, newbie? So ask!” Aida crossed his arms over his chest. His smirking face resembled Captain Ichimaru’s in a way, though Aida had none of the mystery and made up for that lack with more outright cruelty.
“There is one thing that I’m curious about,” Kira said. “I was about to ask when Tsuchida left, but... Why are all the top seats women? Tsuchida seemed to imply that they are not the strongest in the division going by traditional measures.”
“Oh.” Aida and Inose looked at each other with uncomfortable grimaces until Inose sighed and took over the job of explaining. “They’re... Don’t mess with the girls, okay? They’re vicious. They’ll ply you with cookies until you tell them everything, and then they’ll blackmail you. I know; I fell for it.”
“Yeah. And they say the men of the Third are cruel. Our women are worse.”
“They won their seats through strategy, then?” Kira asked.
“Uh... no, not really. The last time we shuffled ranks, Lieutenant Matsumoto of the Tenth had just stopped by for a visit,” Inose said. The large man unexpectedly flushed a dark red at the recollection of the buxom beauty of the Tenth, and he choked for a while before he could continue. “S-so yeah, Matsumoto came by and I guess she gave the captain ideas. The game turned into ‘Who has the biggest breasts?’ Most of the girls refused to participate and some threatened to file for sexual harassment... The ones who entered automatically got the top spots. That would be those creeps like the one you ran into.”
Kira felt his face twitch a bit at the confirmation of one of his greatest fears: that Ichimaru’s promotion had given him the freedom to be even more eccentric, and that he had Matsumoto’s encouragement to act on that eccentricity. Much as he loved working with Captain Ichimaru, there were drawbacks such as the pranks and the shamelessness. This, for example, sounded just like the type of thing Ichimaru would pull.
Aida’s snickering brought him out of his reverie. “Inose’s currently a fifth seat because he has moobs bigger than that chick Hamano.”
“Shut up! Hamano’s a two-by-four; of course any man with a little meat on his bones would have a chest bigger than hers!”
The game extended to men, too? Kira looked down at his flat chest and frowned. “Then why am I a fourth seat?”
“Metaphorical breasts, maybe. You are kind of a pretty boy.”
Kira just frowned deeper. Aida was an ass.
“Don’t sweat it,” Inose said. “Everyone knows that our ranks are just this side of random, and they switch all the time following the results of whatever contest the captain has us doing that week, or even according to his mood. There’s no rhyme or reason to Captain Ichimaru’s system at this point, though he’s said that there will be a performance evaluation to determine our actual rankings later on.”
“Inose.” Aida snorted and reached to pinch Inose’s chest, but was slapped away. “You just don’t get it, do you? This is the performance eval.”
“What do you mean?” Kira asked.
“Captain Ichimaru’s real sharp. He’s been shuffling us around to throw us off our game, yeah, but don’t you see? It’s all part of the test. He wants to see who can handle the higher ranking positions, so he swaps us in and out of them to find the best fit.” He turned to Inose and said, “Why the hell do you think Itou never vacates the third seat? Or why is Kano always switching between seventh and eighth? They’re set in place, but others aren’t decided yet.”
Inose was still skeptical. He gave Aida the raised eyebrow even as he brushed off another titty-twister attempt. “If he’s so sneaky, wouldn’t he also switch Itou and Kano more to throw us off his trail?”
“But he doesn’t care if we find out! This is Captain Ichimaru we’re talking about. You think he gives a fuck? I bet he’s counting on it, even.”
“Well, what’s the point in creating an elaborate scheme like this, then? The game ends for him if we tell everyone!”
Finally, they looked toward Kira for confirmation.
“What do you think, newbie?”
“Yeah, I hear you were close to our captain when you were in the Fifth.”
“I’m... inclined to agree with Aida-san. This method is consistent with what I know of Captain Ichimaru’s personality.” Kira drifted off in pensive thought. What was Captain Ichimaru playing at? Or was he playing for amusement alone?
Head in the clouds, Kira almost didn’t flinch at Inose’s sudden roar of pain. The large man slumped down, clutching at his injured nipple and cursing up a storm. Aida, cackling madly, had succeeded in bringing the victim to his knees.
Kira was halfway across the courtyard before Aida could finish saying, “You’re next, newbie.”
---
“How goes the fortress buildin’?” Gin asked. His haori fluttered behind him as he gracefully slid into the last empty chair at the table. He glanced curiously at the centerpiece, a beautiful floral teapot, and then he shifted over for a look at Aizen’s dainty cup with its strange liquid concoction. “Bleh. Hope ya don’t mind me sayin’, but that tea looks unappetizin’.”
“Watch your tone,” Tousen snapped. He managed to send a glare Gin’s way despite his blindness.
“My ‘pologies if ya thought I was bein’ rude. S’just the way I speak, ain’t that right, Captain Aizen?”
Aizen smiled gently and, with graceful motions, moved to pour Gin a cup of tea. It was supposed to be tea, though to Gin it appeared as liquid diarrhea.
“A recipe from Lieutenant Sasakibe,” Aizen said, “who once braved the Tibetan mountains in winter. I asked him for an adventurous blend that curious thrillseekers would appreciate.” He threw Gin a pointed look.
Gin forced himself to return Aizen’s smile, and furthermore, to lift the disgusting sludge to his lips. It smelled horrible. And tasted worse. Gin swallowed his first gulp, and the overpowering flavor forced him to hide his discomfort behind a widened smile. “Mmm... oily! It’s so different! What’s the secret ingredient?”
Aizen chuckled and said, “Salted yak butter. I knew you would enjoy it once you gave it a try.”
Their third member, Tousen, stoically sipped at his own cup. He also clearly did not enjoy the rancid buttery taste, but was too proper to complain about it. Oh, Tousen... Such a stickler for rules! Gin wanted to bet that he would finish the cup because it was the polite thing to do when one was invited over for tea. He himself was debating between faking a stomachache or accidentally knocking the entire pot over.
“Now, as to your first question, Gin, progress in Hueco Mundo has been steady...”
The bitterness of the tea held his throat closed. The slight tang of soured butter churned his stomach. Thick, slick, oily cream glued his mouth shut. Gin listened attentively, nodding at all the right moments. He smiled and pretended that he was glad to be here, away from his division and duties. But in reality, all he wanted was to go back to the place that was his, to the Third Division where he belonged. Back home, where they were waiting for him. Where his subordinates would miss him; would nag at him if he left them alone for too long. Even the bitterest of bile could be tempered by dreams of the sweetest honey.
This point went to Aizen, but the next would be his.
---
Captain Ichimaru had gone out for a walk, they said. He had the bad habit of disappearing at random, which had been obvious even when he was serving under Captain Aizen. Back then, of course, he’d been expected to be around whenever his captain might have duties to be assigned, and it had been easy to track him down by asking for Captain Aizen’s whereabouts.
Kira had wanted to check in with his captain about today’s performance, because even if Tsuchida had thought he’d done well, Kira wanted to be sure he met his captain’s expectations. Unfortunately, he would have to wait.
In the meantime, he headed back to the barracks to tidy up. His room had darkened with the setting sun. However, there was no need to light a lamp just yet, not when shafts of orange light still streamed in from the open window at an angle that cast everything in stark relief against its own shadows.
His uniforms were neatly folded, each article of clothing in its proper drawer. He wiped the smudge off the small mirror that hung on the wall by the dresser. Looking at his reflection, he noted that his bangs were much longer than he had intended to grow them. Kira had originally thought he would try a slightly longer hairstyle, something more fashionable. But then he had been transferred to the Fourth, and he hadn’t had the time or the energy for such frivolities because he was too busy being miserable. Now, the Kira in the mirror was different from what he remembered. His bangs, which had always fallen at an angle, drew a slash across one side of his face, ending in a sharp point below his chin. It was oddly angular, and...
Kira reached behind to tug at the shoulder-length blond strands. In a fit of spontaneity, he parted the hair at the nape and smiled at his reflection. It wasn’t the stylish cut he had been aiming for, but he decided that he liked this a lot more. Rather than being something out of a magazine, this look was his alone, and it meant something. It was a subtle showing of his newfound loyalty to the Third Division.
“I like it.”
“What?” Kira’s hand flew to Wabisuke’s hilt as he spun around to face the intruder.
“Ooh, nice reflexes! Great defensive stance ya got there, too!”
“Captain! Please don’t scare me like that...” Kira let go of his word and let out a sigh of relief. He had the nagging feeling that this was to become a common occurrence - Ichimaru popping into his room unannounced, that is.
Said man had settled himself in Kira’s chair as if he belonged there, his eyes raking across the books stacked neatly on the desk, taking in the titles. With one hand tucked under his chin, he traced over their spines until settling on a well-worn anthology. “I’ll have to borrow this from ya sometime.”
“Yes, of course, if you would like to...” Kira cleared his throat and said, “Now might not be the best time, but I did want to talk to you about today. If, ah, we could go to your office?”
“Why not stay here? ‘My place or yours’ only applies when we ain’t already someplace private.” Ichimaru’s hand left the book and reached out to stroke a slender finger against Kira’s arm instead.
“A-about today--”
“Let’s put it this way. Was it so horrible a task?”
“Well, no...”
“Good, good! Y’know, I always thought Izuru was great at that sorta thing. Abarai was always too intense for the less skilled fighters, and Hinamori too considerate and coddlin’ of ‘em. But Izuru bein’ so observant and all, y’always know exactly what they need to practice and how much they can take. I meant it when I said I trust ya.”
“Thank...you... I...” In the face of such a declaration, his thanks sounded hollow. “Captain Ichimaru, you don’t know how much it means to me that-- I mean, giving me this chance--”
“I’d rather talk ‘bout somethin’ else... Or better yet, let’s skip the talkin’, hmm?” He scooted closer, now on the edge of the seat.
“T-talk! Yes! We should perhaps... go for some tea!” Kira desperately blurted out.
“No thanks. I’ve had enough tea for a long while. But if ya asked, ‘Coffee, tea, or me?’ I’d be hard-pressed not to pick the third option.”
“Let’s... the bar... S-sake?”
“Tryin’ to get your captain drunk?”
“No!”
“Gonna take advantage of me when I’m vulnerable?”
“I would never--!”
Gin laughed at Kira’s expression and held up his hands to stave off the accusations. “I know, I know... I shouldn’t tease ya so much. How was your day? No one tried to pick on ya or anythin’, did they?”
The abrupt shift in tone knocked Kira for a loop, as it always did. But it also gave him a chance to recover from the flirtatious assault. He wondered if, lately, Captain Ichimaru’s flirting hadn’t become more direct? And rather than the usual scare tactics he used on people whom he thought were fun targets, this felt much more intimate and tailored just for his ‘sweet Izuru’.
It was terrifying to think that maybe Captain Ichimaru... Maybe Gin had picked up on how strongly Izuru felt about him, and in what way. Take your mind out of the gutter, he told himself. A normal conversation. Normal was good. And, thinking back on the day’s events, he answered Gin’s question with just the barest hint of sarcasm.
“Besides Aida-san trying to give me a titty twister? No, everything was fine.”
He’d said it in good humor, but Gin wasn’t smiling. His eyes opened, and they were that beautiful, mysterious, unreadable blue.
“Ah, no,” Kira said, backtracking, “Aida wasn’t picking on me, really! We were just fooling around, and he pinched Inose, but I got away and, um...”
Gin pushed up from the seat and stood at his full height. He loomed over the shorter man, cupping Kira’s cheek in his palm and trapping him against the wall. “I don’t know how to make this any clearer. Ya really have no idea what that does to me, do ya? You, bein’ so observant about everything ‘cept when I’m showin’ interest in ya, and usin’ those words, ‘foolin’ around’, when ya talkin’ ‘bout someone tryin’ to touch ya there...” Gin was leaning down, and his fingers, feather-light, just barely moving along Izuru’s jaw to tilt his chin up, and...
This time it was unstoppable. Their lips met.
There was a burst of sweetness so acute it sent a lightning racing down his spine. Izuru shivered in his captain’s hold, and still, that insouciant mouth and its wetness, its warmth... Eyes fluttering closed, he could do nothing but welcome it into himself.
Gin moved to stroke his fingertips over the curve of Izuru’s jaw, down his throat with its vibrations speaking wordlessly in time to the soft keening sounds that filled the air. Down, to the sensitive dip at the base of his neck. Down, and across the strong lines of Izuru’s collar bone.
Down, down, down. Gin let his clever hands over warm planes of muscle, silk over steel. He brushed over Izuru’s stomach and pressed teasingly through the fabric while moving back up. He slipped his hands within the folds of cloth and tugged them apart, just enough that they began to slip off Izuru’s shoulder, earning a small whimper from the man trapped beneath his searing kiss.
Their tongues swept across each other in a languid dance. Izuru was too far gone, pulled too deeply into the rhythm to notice when Gin slipped his hand under the shirt and began ghosting over his bare chest. All the sensations merely served to keep him trapped in this maze of desire.
“Ah!” Izuru gasped into their kiss.
Gin’s lips curled up in a smile even as they were still connected. Again, he flicked his fingers over the small nub that had been his target all along. It quickly hardened beneath his touch, and he took the opportunity to go further, lightly pinching and twisting the bit of flesh, wholly focused on wringing more delicious sounds out of Izuru.
“Aaah!” Shivering, lips tingling, Izuru broke apart from the kiss and rested his head against the wall for support, panting, catching his breath.
Relief was short-lived, as Gin planted kisses down the same path his fingers had taken before, and all the while, his hand continued its movements, circling and tweaking at Izuru’s nipple. He littered tiny, affectionate pecks all the way down Izuru’s jaw and to his throat. They stopped at his pulse, where Gin latched on with a sensuous suck, pulling the blood up to the surface.
“Nnnnn, Gin...”
It would leave a mark.
Gin reluctantly pulled away to survey his handiwork. Izuru, eyes opening but still glazed over, breath hitching, lips swollen, and that redness at his pale throat that would darken up beautifully. Izuru, beautiful when overwhelmed with pleasure.
He grinned. “How was that for nipple twistin’?”
Izuru’s senses were slow to return. They were too slow for him to attempt any sort of witty retort, but then again, Gin wasn’t expecting one. Gin, too, was breathing heavily, and his thin lips held a sheen that reminded Izuru all too much of their deep kiss and its lingering sweetness. And also how fitting it was that there had been a bit of astringency on Gin’s tongue, curiously bittersweet.
Gin wrapped his arms tighter around the other man, and rested their foreheads against each other. “I’m serious ‘bout ya, Izuru. Real serious.”
For some reason, the situation seemed funny when it shouldn’t be. There was a surreal quality in the air, as if in a dream. His fears had been laid to rest, and all he’d ever hoped for was there right in front of him.
And all Izuru could do was touch a hand to his lips and say, “You didn’t taste like persimmons.”
“Oh, that? It’s salted yak butter tea. Disgustin’ stuff, ain’t it?”
Their laughter was only slightly hysterical.