daily writings
“When did my closet become Soul Society’s hotel room?” the teen asks rhetorically as both he and his companion slipped through the bedroom window.
“This wasn't my first choice. I would have gone to Inoue’s, but she was making dinner,” the petite taichou answered, an unvoluntary shudder flows through him at the thought of Inoue’s culinary talents. “And when I visited him, Urahara seemed to be in a suspiciously happy mood, which I translated to mean that visiting the Quincy was also out of the question.”
Ichigo, who had just slipped into his body, couldn’t stop his own wince at the thought of his friend -and he used the term very loosely-with that bucket headed perv.
Unstrapping Hyourinmaru from his back and placing him on the nearby wall, Toushirou continued. “Anyway, I didn’t think it would be much of a problem since I have already slept in your bed before.”
“Actually,” Ichigo began, glancing over his shoulder to see Toushirou staring at a stain on his haori before neatly folding beside the sword, “I remember a half-dead brat sneaking out in the middle of the night.”
“Well, you brought me here,” Toushirou says, running an exhausted hand through his hair. “Is it wrong to think that maybe you’d offer me a place to sleep?”
Ichigo, who was goggling over the fact that his friend even folds his socks, "Obviously he's more anal than I realized,' caught the tail end of what the boy was saying. "Oh, umm.., No. Of course, I'd offer my room to anyone in need."
"You never offer it to Abarai."
"Well," Ichigo shrugs, "you're not as big of a jerk as he is."
"Well, I'll try remember that," he answers before sliding the door close and closing his eyes
“This wasn't my first choice. I would have gone to Inoue’s, but she was making dinner,” the petite taichou answered, an unvoluntary shudder flows through him at the thought of Inoue’s culinary talents. “And when I visited him, Urahara seemed to be in a suspiciously happy mood, which I translated to mean that visiting the Quincy was also out of the question.”
Ichigo, who had just slipped into his body, couldn’t stop his own wince at the thought of his friend -and he used the term very loosely-with that bucket headed perv.
Unstrapping Hyourinmaru from his back and placing him on the nearby wall, Toushirou continued. “Anyway, I didn’t think it would be much of a problem since I have already slept in your bed before.”
“Actually,” Ichigo began, glancing over his shoulder to see Toushirou staring at a stain on his haori before neatly folding beside the sword, “I remember a half-dead brat sneaking out in the middle of the night.”
“Well, you brought me here,” Toushirou says, running an exhausted hand through his hair. “Is it wrong to think that maybe you’d offer me a place to sleep?”
Ichigo, who was goggling over the fact that his friend even folds his socks, "Obviously he's more anal than I realized,' caught the tail end of what the boy was saying. "Oh, umm.., No. Of course, I'd offer my room to anyone in need."
"You never offer it to Abarai."
"Well," Ichigo shrugs, "you're not as big of a jerk as he is."
"Well, I'll try remember that," he answers before sliding the door close and closing his eyes