Bleach- "Still Standing"
Wow, that was like, more than a week without writing anything (or FINISHING anything, to be more accurate). How odd.
Title: Still Standing
Universe: Bleach
Theme/Topic: Kira’s birthday
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing/s: Ikkaku, Kira (lightly IkkakuxKira?)
Warnings/Spoilers: Through SS arc.
Word Count: 1,085
Summary: On his birthday this year, Kira Izuru gets punched in the face.
Dedication: sw_inku- LOVE ME.
A/N: Wow I wrote this in like, an hour, so it is so bad I will probably get bricked. AND I ENDED UP BEING LATE ANYWAY. But I did my best, Kira! Sorry! LOL At least this means my March B-day ficcage is DONE and OVER with (at least for the characters I like). On to April! *pumps fist*
Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish constantly.
Distribution: Just lemme know.
On his birthday this year, Kira Izuru was punched in the face.
Blood spurted out of his nose in an angry red spray upon impact, and he heard the kind of ear-splitting crunch that meant cartilage had broken, and that he’d wake up in the morning looking like a big, puffy-faced blond raccoon.
He recoiled automatically at the sharp and sudden pain-one step, two steps back-but quickly brought his fists up in a defensive position as he found his legs again, steadied himself despite his blurry vision. He blinked owlishly for a moment or two, but gamely tried to regain his bearings.
Notably, he didn’t fall.
His opponent only grinned and whooped and raised his own fists in answer to that, the other man still unscathed and anticipatory as he danced around on his toes, looking for the next opening, the next opportunity to draw more blood. “Why so surprised there, blondie? You didn’t actually think I was gonna go easy on you today just ‘cuz it’s your birthday, didja?”
“No,” Kira panted through his mouth, and knew that mercy wouldn’t have been a gift in this case. “Of course not.”
In this case, mercy was just another crutch, and hadn’t he left the him who needed to lean on something like that behind a long time ago?
So he took a deep breath instead, and wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his sleeve.
“It didn’t hurt,” he told Ikkaku, and rolled his neck from side to side to get the ringing in his ears to stop. “It’s not good enough.”
“Nose is broken there,” Ikkaku snorted in challenge, and the knowing gleam in his eyes made Izuru want to rub the smirking shinigami’s face in the dirt.
“Still standing,” he said instead, and knew Madarame would understand the million things that meant to Izuru right now.
“Still standing,” Ikkaku agreed after a moment, and smiled like a shark. “For how long, I wonder?”
Sure, Ikkaku understood the million things it meant.
But he also understood the million things it didn’t mean, too.
Because standing was just the first step in the journey, and there were still a hundred thousand miles to go whether an actual destination existed or not, whether they really knew where they were going or not.
Either way, they were only just beginning.
“Show me what you got!” Ikkaku whooped, and jabbed fast with his right and catching Kira in the jaw this time.
On his birthday this year, Kira Izuru was punched in the face.
And kicked in the stomach.
And elbowed in the ribs.
And slammed into a rock wall.
His nose broke.
His lip split open.
He jammed the fingers in his right hand.
Bruised his knuckles on his left one.
He had the wind knocked out of him-twice.
He spat blood.
He vomited.
And through it all, he stayed standing. Sure, he wobbled and he backtracked and he stumbled more than a couple of times, but he didn’t fall once.
It meant a million things to him, and didn’t mean that many more all at the same time.
“You’re improving!” Ikkaku breathed after a while, and still had that same gleam in his eyes as before, even if there was blood dribbling down the side of his mouth now.
“Still standing,” Kira agreed determinedly, and felt like right now, at this very moment, there was another part of the old him falling away with each forward step he took towards Ikkaku, fists raised.
On his birthday this year, Kira Izuru was punched in the face.
But so was Ikkaku.
And if Kira was kicked in the stomach, then Ikkaku was head-butted in the chest.
And slugged in the kidneys.
And kneed in the gut.
He bruised his jaw and lost a molar and sprained his right wrist and spat blood and cursed out loud in pain twice.
Kira got the shit beat out of him, sure. But Ikkaku didn’t get away completely unscathed either.
Because Izuru fought back as hard as he could-didn’t hesitate for a second or pull his punches as they sparred right there in the middle of the rock quarry, exchanging fierce blow after fierce blow with all the power they had in their own two hands.
Kira didn’t fall once.
But then again, Ikkaku didn’t fall either, and in the end, after Kira was pinned to the rock face and held three inches off the ground by the throat one-handed, he finally conceded defeat.
Though when Ikkaku put him down-after everything was said and done- Izuru could still stand on his own two feet. And while it didn’t mean victory exactly, it didn’t mean total defeat either.
They shared a look.
“Getting better,” Ikkaku breathed after a moment, and licked blood from the corner of his lip like he’d enjoyed every minute of it.
Kira felt himself smiling back, and thought about last year, when he’d only managed to land one or two lucky punches. “Still standing,” he murmured breathlessly to himself, feeling a strange sense of self-satisfaction at today’s outcome as the two of them leaned on each other all the way back to their division headquarters.
Upon their return they treated each other’s wounds and shared a single bottle of sake in the captain’s office when they were done with the bandages-quiet, knowing, tired. They drank deeply and Ikkaku wished him a simple, half-grunted “happy birthday,” before they hobbled off to bed, early tonight because there was still work to be done come sun up.
Not another word was said between them after that, and from there, Ikkaku fell face-down into his futon, already snoring even before his head hit the pillow. Kira sighed and went around switching off the lights before climbing under the covers as gingerly as he could.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
For his birthday this year, Kira Izuru got punched in the face.
And kicked in the stomach.
And elbowed in the ribs.
And slammed into a rock wall.
His nose broke.
His lip split open.
He jammed the fingers in his right hand.
Bruised his knuckles on his left one.
He had the wind knocked out of him-twice.
He spat blood.
He vomited.
But through it all, he stayed standing.
And as he fell asleep that night-with every part of his body aching and sore-he thought to himself that it was the best birthday present he’d ever gotten.
END
EDITS PLZ.
Title: Still Standing
Universe: Bleach
Theme/Topic: Kira’s birthday
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing/s: Ikkaku, Kira (lightly IkkakuxKira?)
Warnings/Spoilers: Through SS arc.
Word Count: 1,085
Summary: On his birthday this year, Kira Izuru gets punched in the face.
Dedication: sw_inku- LOVE ME.
A/N: Wow I wrote this in like, an hour, so it is so bad I will probably get bricked. AND I ENDED UP BEING LATE ANYWAY. But I did my best, Kira! Sorry! LOL At least this means my March B-day ficcage is DONE and OVER with (at least for the characters I like). On to April! *pumps fist*
Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish constantly.
Distribution: Just lemme know.
On his birthday this year, Kira Izuru was punched in the face.
Blood spurted out of his nose in an angry red spray upon impact, and he heard the kind of ear-splitting crunch that meant cartilage had broken, and that he’d wake up in the morning looking like a big, puffy-faced blond raccoon.
He recoiled automatically at the sharp and sudden pain-one step, two steps back-but quickly brought his fists up in a defensive position as he found his legs again, steadied himself despite his blurry vision. He blinked owlishly for a moment or two, but gamely tried to regain his bearings.
Notably, he didn’t fall.
His opponent only grinned and whooped and raised his own fists in answer to that, the other man still unscathed and anticipatory as he danced around on his toes, looking for the next opening, the next opportunity to draw more blood. “Why so surprised there, blondie? You didn’t actually think I was gonna go easy on you today just ‘cuz it’s your birthday, didja?”
“No,” Kira panted through his mouth, and knew that mercy wouldn’t have been a gift in this case. “Of course not.”
In this case, mercy was just another crutch, and hadn’t he left the him who needed to lean on something like that behind a long time ago?
So he took a deep breath instead, and wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his sleeve.
“It didn’t hurt,” he told Ikkaku, and rolled his neck from side to side to get the ringing in his ears to stop. “It’s not good enough.”
“Nose is broken there,” Ikkaku snorted in challenge, and the knowing gleam in his eyes made Izuru want to rub the smirking shinigami’s face in the dirt.
“Still standing,” he said instead, and knew Madarame would understand the million things that meant to Izuru right now.
“Still standing,” Ikkaku agreed after a moment, and smiled like a shark. “For how long, I wonder?”
Sure, Ikkaku understood the million things it meant.
But he also understood the million things it didn’t mean, too.
Because standing was just the first step in the journey, and there were still a hundred thousand miles to go whether an actual destination existed or not, whether they really knew where they were going or not.
Either way, they were only just beginning.
“Show me what you got!” Ikkaku whooped, and jabbed fast with his right and catching Kira in the jaw this time.
On his birthday this year, Kira Izuru was punched in the face.
And kicked in the stomach.
And elbowed in the ribs.
And slammed into a rock wall.
His nose broke.
His lip split open.
He jammed the fingers in his right hand.
Bruised his knuckles on his left one.
He had the wind knocked out of him-twice.
He spat blood.
He vomited.
And through it all, he stayed standing. Sure, he wobbled and he backtracked and he stumbled more than a couple of times, but he didn’t fall once.
It meant a million things to him, and didn’t mean that many more all at the same time.
“You’re improving!” Ikkaku breathed after a while, and still had that same gleam in his eyes as before, even if there was blood dribbling down the side of his mouth now.
“Still standing,” Kira agreed determinedly, and felt like right now, at this very moment, there was another part of the old him falling away with each forward step he took towards Ikkaku, fists raised.
On his birthday this year, Kira Izuru was punched in the face.
But so was Ikkaku.
And if Kira was kicked in the stomach, then Ikkaku was head-butted in the chest.
And slugged in the kidneys.
And kneed in the gut.
He bruised his jaw and lost a molar and sprained his right wrist and spat blood and cursed out loud in pain twice.
Kira got the shit beat out of him, sure. But Ikkaku didn’t get away completely unscathed either.
Because Izuru fought back as hard as he could-didn’t hesitate for a second or pull his punches as they sparred right there in the middle of the rock quarry, exchanging fierce blow after fierce blow with all the power they had in their own two hands.
Kira didn’t fall once.
But then again, Ikkaku didn’t fall either, and in the end, after Kira was pinned to the rock face and held three inches off the ground by the throat one-handed, he finally conceded defeat.
Though when Ikkaku put him down-after everything was said and done- Izuru could still stand on his own two feet. And while it didn’t mean victory exactly, it didn’t mean total defeat either.
They shared a look.
“Getting better,” Ikkaku breathed after a moment, and licked blood from the corner of his lip like he’d enjoyed every minute of it.
Kira felt himself smiling back, and thought about last year, when he’d only managed to land one or two lucky punches. “Still standing,” he murmured breathlessly to himself, feeling a strange sense of self-satisfaction at today’s outcome as the two of them leaned on each other all the way back to their division headquarters.
Upon their return they treated each other’s wounds and shared a single bottle of sake in the captain’s office when they were done with the bandages-quiet, knowing, tired. They drank deeply and Ikkaku wished him a simple, half-grunted “happy birthday,” before they hobbled off to bed, early tonight because there was still work to be done come sun up.
Not another word was said between them after that, and from there, Ikkaku fell face-down into his futon, already snoring even before his head hit the pillow. Kira sighed and went around switching off the lights before climbing under the covers as gingerly as he could.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
For his birthday this year, Kira Izuru got punched in the face.
And kicked in the stomach.
And elbowed in the ribs.
And slammed into a rock wall.
His nose broke.
His lip split open.
He jammed the fingers in his right hand.
Bruised his knuckles on his left one.
He had the wind knocked out of him-twice.
He spat blood.
He vomited.
But through it all, he stayed standing.
And as he fell asleep that night-with every part of his body aching and sore-he thought to himself that it was the best birthday present he’d ever gotten.
END
EDITS PLZ.