Bleach Drabble (209-211)
Thursdays are the only days when I have time in the afternoon between classes, so I speed wrote three of these suckers to put out before I pass out for the weekend. Yay? Or not...
209.
Title: A Simple Game of Tag
Rating: G
Pairing/Character/s: Byakuya, Yoruichi
Word Count: 983
Warning/s: Spoilers for Ep 42 of the anime.
Summary: The Shihouin house visits the Kuchiki clan.
Dedication: Christine- thanks for the drink today!
A/N: I was catching up on my Bleach anime yesterday and OMG there is a line in Ep 42 when Yoruichi calls Byakuya “Byakuya-bo” and makes reference to playing tag together in his youth. SO CUTE I had to write something.
Byakuya was, no matter how much his parents loved him, the first son of a noble house.
A child meant to be seen and not heard, to be admired and critiqued, watched and spoken about but never truly spoken to.
In other words, not a real person until his coming of age.
He remembers how he had felt, like some prized pet on display as guests and day visitors from various other noble houses paid his home a visit, asking with barely veiled envy, how the young master was doing in his studies, how he was faring in his training, etc., etc.
A part of him had expected some of the visitors to walk up to him and pull his lips back to examine the quality of his teeth or to grab him by the jaw and peer into his face to determine how bright his eyes were.
It was a childhood fraught with expectation. And he worked hard with that burden on his shoulders, did his best to make his parents proud, to do well for the Kuchiki namesake.
And so the Kuchiki elders watched him and pushed him into that role while the expectant eyes of the other noble houses loomed over him, waiting for him to fall, waiting for a reason to ridicule the great Kuchiki name like the turncoat sharks they were.
He worked very hard to show them that he was a child befitting of his noble family, appeared in front of every guest as the perfect genius-child, the flawless future successor of a great wealth.
And every guest turned their noses up to him and gave him a pat on the head, telling him to keep up the good work, before dismissing him like the object of momentary interest he was.
It was how it had always been.
Until the day visitors from the Shihouin house called upon his family.
Old men, most of them, there undoubtedly to have barely-veiled hostile communications with his parents under the guise of loyalty and friendship. Prepared to make his rounds as the Kuchiki’s perfect son once more, Byakuya had bowed and greeted each of the guests, they eyeing him and asking how his studies were going.
“Very well, sirs. Thank you.”
And that was supposed to be it, really, his cue to leave as his parents and the family elders saw to the visitors in his stead.
He remembers to this day, how it had felt as he’d turned around to leave and instead, came face-to-face with a young woman some years his senior, smiling playfully as she looked straight at him rather than through him.
Slightly startled, he’d blinked at her for a moment before remembering himself and bowing. “Ah, good afternoon.”
She’d smirked. “Well, aren’t you the perfect little bocchan?”
“Excuse me?”
She, obviously delighted at his confusion, grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him to the side. “Come with me.”
“Who are you?” he’d asked. “Please let me show you to the tea room….”
“Yoruichi,” she’d responded quickly, casting a look over her shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed. “And for all the tea in seireitei I wouldn’t be caught dead in that room fulla old fogeys.”
It was the last thing he’d ever expected to hear from a member of any noble house.
He’d very nearly laughed.
Eventually she led them outside, into the vast garden, and breathing in relief, perched herself on a large rock like a cat, happily basking in the sunshine.
Byakuya patiently waited for her to say something.
When she didn’t, he’d frowned and asked, very carefully, “Why did you bring me here, Yoruichi-san?”
She’d winked at him. “’Cuz you looked bored too.”
He remembers blinking, alarmed at the prospect that he’d lost face and shown some sort of ugly emotion to the guests.
“Don’t worry, bocchama, I could just tell,” she’d assured him, reading his mind. Then, “So… what do you do for fun around here?”
“Train,” he’d responded automatically.
She rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s absolutely boring.”
“Physical mastery of one’s body and reiatsu are essential…”
“Blah, blah, blah,” she’d drawled, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. “How about a game? What games do you like, Byakuya-bo?”
He’d scowled slightly at the distasteful moniker. “I don’t play games,” he said stiffly. And it was true too. As much as his parents loved him, he was the first son of a noble house, and games were beneath his station, beneath the expectations his family had of him.
The servant children played games.
She, obviously, had no idea what being the firstborn of a noble clan entailed. Either that or she didn’t care, because the next thing he knew, she was right in his face and smiling again, one fingertip on his nose.
He hadn’t had the time to hide his bewilderment.
“I know a game we can play,” she started.
“What…”
“Tag. You’re it.” And then she tweaked his nose playfully before dancing backwards, disappearing in a flash of movement too fast for him to follow.
He’d stared incredulously, nose twitching. “Tag?”
“Catch me if you can, Byakuya-bo!”
Hours later, when the guests were gone, young Kuchiki Byakuya allowed himself the ghost of a smile in the privacy of his own room. He’d failed to catch her, utterly failed, and while normally that sort of result in his training frustrated him to no end, today was different somehow, and as he picked out leaves and grass from his hair and wiped the mud from his knees, he thought that maybe this whole game-playing business had something to it after all.
Inexplicably, he couldn’t wait for the next Shihouin house visit, telling himself that next time, next time he’d definitely catch her.
And though he will never admit it if asked, to this day, it was always Yoruichi’s visits that he looked forward to most growing up.
END
210.
Title: Stay Away from my Sister
Rating: PG
Pairing/Character/s: Ichigo, Byakuya, mentioned IchigoxRukia
Word Count: 232
Warning/s: No spoilers, really. Just crack?
Summary: Byakuya and Ichigo have a problem.
Dedication: jen_kat- thanks for all your help on that contest entry earlier this week. ^^;;
A/N: There is something about overprotective older brothers that is so cute. And so I linger on the topic like WOAH.
Ichigo and Byakuya had a problem.
With each other.
Ichigo thought it was just Byakuya being unreasonable. Rukia was a grown woman for crying out loud, and she could date who she wanted and everything would be great if Byakuya would just realize that and stop being an overprotective paranoid freak about it and let them alone.
Byakuya thought that Ichigo was an idiot.
So one could say they didn’t exactly see eye to eye.
“Stay away from my sister,” Byakuya reiterated calmly, glaring imperiously at the orange-haired child sitting angrily before him.
“Argh. I don’t get what your problem is! Are you even listening to me?”
“No, not particularly.”
“God… just…argh. ARGH! Try to see where I’m comin’ from at least, would you, moneybags?”
“Then maybe you should try and see where I’m coming from as well, boy.”
Ichigo scowled. “Fine. Fine! Then tell me you imperious ass. I’m listening!”
Byakuya crossed his arms thoughtfully and after a tense moment, said, “Yuzu will one day grow into a fine woman. Any man would be lucky to take her into his home and…”
Ichigo’s eye twitched and he held out a hand, stopping Byakuya before he could finish his statement. “Okay. That’s enough. I get it.”
An elegantly arched brow. “Do you?”
Ichigo sighed. “Yeah. I really, really do.”
“And?”
Kurosaki banged his head against the table. “We obviously have a problem.”
END
211.
Title: This Sweet Taste
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: Aizen, Ichimaru, Kira, Hinamori
Word Count: 555 (well, well…)
Warning/s: Spoilers for the Soul Society Arc
Summary: Aizen and Gin have similar tastes.
Dedication: antiparallel- dude YES Aizen is somehow, even HOTTER now. WTF?
A/N: I really have no idea. I JUST LIKE TO EFF WITH KIRA.
Gin likes the taste of innocence, Aizen thinks, and as he looks at the new blonde toy his former vice-captain has brought home with him, it only reinforces the fifth division leader’s opinion that Ichimaru has an affinity for the things that break the easiest if you’re not too careful with them.
Kira smiles and bows enthusiastically to Aizen when they are introduced, and there is a glow about the young man that Aizen remembers seeing in Gin once too, something sweet and whole and full of potential.
Aizen nods and says, “It’s nice to meet you, Kira,” very gently to this fragile new plaything, casting a look at Gin, who is standing behind Izuru and looking like he’s found the most interesting little morsel he’s ever seen.
Aizen sighs fondly and remembers a time when Ichimaru’s face was just as soft as Kira’s is now, and he lets himself reminisce on exactly how it felt to corrupt something oh so very pure.
He supposes that he’s destroyed and rebuilt Gin in the image of himself after all, and that as such, perhaps the two of them do both enjoy the taste of innocence more than they should.
Gin excuses himself then, and leads a pink-faced, exuberant Izuru away by the arm, his new boy eager and young and very, very innocent in Ichimaru’s deceptively tender grasp.
If Izuru tastes anything like Gin did the first time Aizen destroyed him, then the fifth division captain thinks that Ichimaru is very lucky.
There’s something about naiveté on the tongue that makes life so much sweeter, and Aizen supposes that if anyone taught Gin that, it was himself.
“Aizen-taichou!”
He turns and smiles in a fatherly manner at little Momo-chan as she jogs up to him, eyes clear and cheeks flushed and the sweetest looking morsel he’s ever seen. “Aizen-taichou, I’m ready!” she announces shyly, the brand new vice-captain’s insignia burning bright on her little arm.
“Are you, now?” he asks, chuckling kindly and reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.
She blushes even pinker and he decides that yes, she’s just ripe enough, the same eagerness in her eyes as Kira just now and Gin long ago.
And he thinks to himself that the things that break easiest if you’re not careful with them are the things you want to be careful with the least of all, those fragile beautiful things that can be crushed with just the right amount of pressure.
He remembers how it felt to break Gin against his tongue many years ago, and thinks that if his little Momo-chan is anywhere near as sweet, he’s very lucky as well.
He looks forward to it.
And as he takes his new little one by the hand and leads her away, he can’t help but wonder to himself as well, how she will look when she is remade in his image as Gin was, once all that tender innocence is milked out of her and drunk deep down inside him.
It sends a shudder of excitement through his entire body, and with her hand in his he walks forward, thinking to himself that he can’t wait to see all the different sorts of things he’s going to break in her with time.
He imagines that the taste will be superb.
END
EDITS PLZ.
209.
Title: A Simple Game of Tag
Rating: G
Pairing/Character/s: Byakuya, Yoruichi
Word Count: 983
Warning/s: Spoilers for Ep 42 of the anime.
Summary: The Shihouin house visits the Kuchiki clan.
Dedication: Christine- thanks for the drink today!
A/N: I was catching up on my Bleach anime yesterday and OMG there is a line in Ep 42 when Yoruichi calls Byakuya “Byakuya-bo” and makes reference to playing tag together in his youth. SO CUTE I had to write something.
Byakuya was, no matter how much his parents loved him, the first son of a noble house.
A child meant to be seen and not heard, to be admired and critiqued, watched and spoken about but never truly spoken to.
In other words, not a real person until his coming of age.
He remembers how he had felt, like some prized pet on display as guests and day visitors from various other noble houses paid his home a visit, asking with barely veiled envy, how the young master was doing in his studies, how he was faring in his training, etc., etc.
A part of him had expected some of the visitors to walk up to him and pull his lips back to examine the quality of his teeth or to grab him by the jaw and peer into his face to determine how bright his eyes were.
It was a childhood fraught with expectation. And he worked hard with that burden on his shoulders, did his best to make his parents proud, to do well for the Kuchiki namesake.
And so the Kuchiki elders watched him and pushed him into that role while the expectant eyes of the other noble houses loomed over him, waiting for him to fall, waiting for a reason to ridicule the great Kuchiki name like the turncoat sharks they were.
He worked very hard to show them that he was a child befitting of his noble family, appeared in front of every guest as the perfect genius-child, the flawless future successor of a great wealth.
And every guest turned their noses up to him and gave him a pat on the head, telling him to keep up the good work, before dismissing him like the object of momentary interest he was.
It was how it had always been.
Until the day visitors from the Shihouin house called upon his family.
Old men, most of them, there undoubtedly to have barely-veiled hostile communications with his parents under the guise of loyalty and friendship. Prepared to make his rounds as the Kuchiki’s perfect son once more, Byakuya had bowed and greeted each of the guests, they eyeing him and asking how his studies were going.
“Very well, sirs. Thank you.”
And that was supposed to be it, really, his cue to leave as his parents and the family elders saw to the visitors in his stead.
He remembers to this day, how it had felt as he’d turned around to leave and instead, came face-to-face with a young woman some years his senior, smiling playfully as she looked straight at him rather than through him.
Slightly startled, he’d blinked at her for a moment before remembering himself and bowing. “Ah, good afternoon.”
She’d smirked. “Well, aren’t you the perfect little bocchan?”
“Excuse me?”
She, obviously delighted at his confusion, grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him to the side. “Come with me.”
“Who are you?” he’d asked. “Please let me show you to the tea room….”
“Yoruichi,” she’d responded quickly, casting a look over her shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed. “And for all the tea in seireitei I wouldn’t be caught dead in that room fulla old fogeys.”
It was the last thing he’d ever expected to hear from a member of any noble house.
He’d very nearly laughed.
Eventually she led them outside, into the vast garden, and breathing in relief, perched herself on a large rock like a cat, happily basking in the sunshine.
Byakuya patiently waited for her to say something.
When she didn’t, he’d frowned and asked, very carefully, “Why did you bring me here, Yoruichi-san?”
She’d winked at him. “’Cuz you looked bored too.”
He remembers blinking, alarmed at the prospect that he’d lost face and shown some sort of ugly emotion to the guests.
“Don’t worry, bocchama, I could just tell,” she’d assured him, reading his mind. Then, “So… what do you do for fun around here?”
“Train,” he’d responded automatically.
She rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s absolutely boring.”
“Physical mastery of one’s body and reiatsu are essential…”
“Blah, blah, blah,” she’d drawled, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. “How about a game? What games do you like, Byakuya-bo?”
He’d scowled slightly at the distasteful moniker. “I don’t play games,” he said stiffly. And it was true too. As much as his parents loved him, he was the first son of a noble house, and games were beneath his station, beneath the expectations his family had of him.
The servant children played games.
She, obviously, had no idea what being the firstborn of a noble clan entailed. Either that or she didn’t care, because the next thing he knew, she was right in his face and smiling again, one fingertip on his nose.
He hadn’t had the time to hide his bewilderment.
“I know a game we can play,” she started.
“What…”
“Tag. You’re it.” And then she tweaked his nose playfully before dancing backwards, disappearing in a flash of movement too fast for him to follow.
He’d stared incredulously, nose twitching. “Tag?”
“Catch me if you can, Byakuya-bo!”
Hours later, when the guests were gone, young Kuchiki Byakuya allowed himself the ghost of a smile in the privacy of his own room. He’d failed to catch her, utterly failed, and while normally that sort of result in his training frustrated him to no end, today was different somehow, and as he picked out leaves and grass from his hair and wiped the mud from his knees, he thought that maybe this whole game-playing business had something to it after all.
Inexplicably, he couldn’t wait for the next Shihouin house visit, telling himself that next time, next time he’d definitely catch her.
And though he will never admit it if asked, to this day, it was always Yoruichi’s visits that he looked forward to most growing up.
END
210.
Title: Stay Away from my Sister
Rating: PG
Pairing/Character/s: Ichigo, Byakuya, mentioned IchigoxRukia
Word Count: 232
Warning/s: No spoilers, really. Just crack?
Summary: Byakuya and Ichigo have a problem.
Dedication: jen_kat- thanks for all your help on that contest entry earlier this week. ^^;;
A/N: There is something about overprotective older brothers that is so cute. And so I linger on the topic like WOAH.
Ichigo and Byakuya had a problem.
With each other.
Ichigo thought it was just Byakuya being unreasonable. Rukia was a grown woman for crying out loud, and she could date who she wanted and everything would be great if Byakuya would just realize that and stop being an overprotective paranoid freak about it and let them alone.
Byakuya thought that Ichigo was an idiot.
So one could say they didn’t exactly see eye to eye.
“Stay away from my sister,” Byakuya reiterated calmly, glaring imperiously at the orange-haired child sitting angrily before him.
“Argh. I don’t get what your problem is! Are you even listening to me?”
“No, not particularly.”
“God… just…argh. ARGH! Try to see where I’m comin’ from at least, would you, moneybags?”
“Then maybe you should try and see where I’m coming from as well, boy.”
Ichigo scowled. “Fine. Fine! Then tell me you imperious ass. I’m listening!”
Byakuya crossed his arms thoughtfully and after a tense moment, said, “Yuzu will one day grow into a fine woman. Any man would be lucky to take her into his home and…”
Ichigo’s eye twitched and he held out a hand, stopping Byakuya before he could finish his statement. “Okay. That’s enough. I get it.”
An elegantly arched brow. “Do you?”
Ichigo sighed. “Yeah. I really, really do.”
“And?”
Kurosaki banged his head against the table. “We obviously have a problem.”
END
211.
Title: This Sweet Taste
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: Aizen, Ichimaru, Kira, Hinamori
Word Count: 555 (well, well…)
Warning/s: Spoilers for the Soul Society Arc
Summary: Aizen and Gin have similar tastes.
Dedication: antiparallel- dude YES Aizen is somehow, even HOTTER now. WTF?
A/N: I really have no idea. I JUST LIKE TO EFF WITH KIRA.
Gin likes the taste of innocence, Aizen thinks, and as he looks at the new blonde toy his former vice-captain has brought home with him, it only reinforces the fifth division leader’s opinion that Ichimaru has an affinity for the things that break the easiest if you’re not too careful with them.
Kira smiles and bows enthusiastically to Aizen when they are introduced, and there is a glow about the young man that Aizen remembers seeing in Gin once too, something sweet and whole and full of potential.
Aizen nods and says, “It’s nice to meet you, Kira,” very gently to this fragile new plaything, casting a look at Gin, who is standing behind Izuru and looking like he’s found the most interesting little morsel he’s ever seen.
Aizen sighs fondly and remembers a time when Ichimaru’s face was just as soft as Kira’s is now, and he lets himself reminisce on exactly how it felt to corrupt something oh so very pure.
He supposes that he’s destroyed and rebuilt Gin in the image of himself after all, and that as such, perhaps the two of them do both enjoy the taste of innocence more than they should.
Gin excuses himself then, and leads a pink-faced, exuberant Izuru away by the arm, his new boy eager and young and very, very innocent in Ichimaru’s deceptively tender grasp.
If Izuru tastes anything like Gin did the first time Aizen destroyed him, then the fifth division captain thinks that Ichimaru is very lucky.
There’s something about naiveté on the tongue that makes life so much sweeter, and Aizen supposes that if anyone taught Gin that, it was himself.
“Aizen-taichou!”
He turns and smiles in a fatherly manner at little Momo-chan as she jogs up to him, eyes clear and cheeks flushed and the sweetest looking morsel he’s ever seen. “Aizen-taichou, I’m ready!” she announces shyly, the brand new vice-captain’s insignia burning bright on her little arm.
“Are you, now?” he asks, chuckling kindly and reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.
She blushes even pinker and he decides that yes, she’s just ripe enough, the same eagerness in her eyes as Kira just now and Gin long ago.
And he thinks to himself that the things that break easiest if you’re not careful with them are the things you want to be careful with the least of all, those fragile beautiful things that can be crushed with just the right amount of pressure.
He remembers how it felt to break Gin against his tongue many years ago, and thinks that if his little Momo-chan is anywhere near as sweet, he’s very lucky as well.
He looks forward to it.
And as he takes his new little one by the hand and leads her away, he can’t help but wonder to himself as well, how she will look when she is remade in his image as Gin was, once all that tender innocence is milked out of her and drunk deep down inside him.
It sends a shudder of excitement through his entire body, and with her hand in his he walks forward, thinking to himself that he can’t wait to see all the different sorts of things he’s going to break in her with time.
He imagines that the taste will be superb.
END
EDITS PLZ.