love is
title. love is
prompt. poet
character/s. Ichigo - peripheral Ichigo and Orihime
rating. t
disclaimer. Bleach (c) Kubo
“Kurosaki Ichigo,” a voice boomed once Ichigo himself set a foot inside the room.
Scowling, Ichigo turned his head to glare at the person standing in front of the class. The teacher was lanky, in mid-forties and had a receding hairline. Quirking his thick brows, the older man leaned back to his heels and folded his arms.
“You are, obviously, late.” The teacher stated to which Ichigo replied with a grunt and narrower eyes. “And you are wearing your scary face.”
“This is my normal face.” Ichigo replied, frowning deeper.
“I see.” He turned to face the chalkboard and Ichigo took it as a cue to approach his desk. On his way, he saw Inoue glance at him, blinking her wide eyes inquiringly. He shook his head and quirked a small smile to reassure her. She beamed in return and returned her attention to the opened notebook before her.
The class went very slowly which Ichigo spent thirty minutes of it twirling his pen and scowling at his desk. “So, let’s see, let’s see.” The chalk tapped the board, making a dull string of sounds. “Ah. Kurosaki,”
Grunting, the redhead lifted his head and narrowed his eyes.
“Your hair calls out to me, so don’t look at me like that.”
My hair… what?
“So, what is love?”
The class gaped, petrified. (Ishida’s glasses fell askew over his nose.)
“Excuse me?” growled Ichigo with slight menace in his tone as soon as he recovered from shock. “I must have heard you wrong.”
“Your ears are fine. What is love?”
The muscles in Ichigo’s jaw were twitching.
“Come on, Kurosaki-san. This is an English class. Show us what you’ve got.”
Ichigo did not look convinced; if possible, he looked more menacing as ever, ready to pounce like an angry orange-haired lion. The teacher, however, was undeterred. He even smiled.
“My, you’re a shy type, Kurosaki-san.”
A muscle twitched in his temple. In reply, the teacher launched into a monotonous speech: “Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is.”
The teacher smirked at his dumbfounded students.
“St. Augustine.” He drawled with a grin. “Neat, huh? And it’s long. And comprehensive. Now it’s your turn, Kurosaki-san.”
Ichigo felt the back of his ears go red as he became the center of attention. He hated to be the center of attraction. Sure, he did not mind being popular with delinquents for they provide on the spot workout, but to be on a spotlight while in a middle of one of his classes, a big no.
The teacher wriggled his eyebrows, goading him.
“Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds.” Ichigo growled, holding back his blush - if it was even possible.
“Shakespeare. Neat, Kurosaki-san, neat.” The English teacher leaned his hip against the table, arms folded in front of his chest. “So tell me, do you believe in love?”
This time, Ichigo lost his be-scared-be-very-scared-of-me look and spluttered, “W-What… What kind of question is that!”
“It is the kind of question that requires either a yes or a no answer. Simple, right?”
Ichigo was close to ripping his hair out. Or Keigo’s intestines. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He growled.
“Maybe, but I’m not letting you off the hook. Too bad, huh?”
The redheaded teen glowered.
“So,” The glower darkened. “Do you believe in the encompassing power of love?”
“I…” Ichigo was writhing in his seat; he was not good with words - he was a man of action. But their lesson required him to open his mouth and speak. “I care for my family and friends.” He growled, nostrils flaring.
“And?” the teacher urged.
“And yeah, I believe in love.” He snapped, glowering defensively.
Beside him, Keigo opened his mouth but Ichigo threw him a withering look that promised a lot of broken bones and a broken nose. The brunet took the hint and snapped his mouth shut.
The teacher smiled in a way that further aggravated Ichigo. “Have you been in love, Kurosaki-san?”
Amber eyes bulged and this time, Ichigo was unable to impede the spreading of blush across his mortified face. “W-What the hell are you talking about!?” he all but yelled whilst writhing in his seat in panic, gripping the edges of his desk. His seatmates inched away from him, fearing that he’ll start combusting.
“I like your reaction.” The teacher nodded, impressed. “That’s special. Answer the question now. We’re all waiting.”
Ichigo gulped, sweating. Suddenly, he felt weak, defeated, flustered and many other things he could not identify. And it was all because of a stupid question. He could feel the stares of his classmates, most especially the curious gaze of one honey-haired girl. All he wanted now was to disappear and maybe, throw his chair at his smirking teacher.
“Have you, Kurosaki-san?”
But he refused to go down that easily. “I said I care about my family and friends!”
The older man shook his head patiently and spoke in a tone as if he was talking to a sulking two year old boy. “I’m talking about passionate love,” the teacher elaborated which meaning was apparently understood by Ichigo who now sported a darker scowl and redder cheeks.
Ichigo spluttered, “I-It’s… It’s none of your business!” He finished finally.
“Well, we have time to spare. We don’t mind waiting, do we?” The class shakily murmured its assent. “Simply saying you believe in love is easy. But,” there was a dramatic pause. “What made you believe in love? You must have experienced its burning passion.”
Ichigo barred his teeth.
“So, tell me, have you been in love, Kurosaki-san?”
He did not know why, he did not notice but one heartbeat, two, three, four, five later, he turned his head and through the mist of curious gazes and faces, he saw honey-brown eyes. They were wide with curiosity. And he stared straight into them, and they drowned him, pulling him in, dazzling him.
Five, six, seven, eight heartbeats later, he answered.
“Yes, I have.”
The bell rang.
prompt. poet
character/s. Ichigo - peripheral Ichigo and Orihime
rating. t
disclaimer. Bleach (c) Kubo
“Kurosaki Ichigo,” a voice boomed once Ichigo himself set a foot inside the room.
Scowling, Ichigo turned his head to glare at the person standing in front of the class. The teacher was lanky, in mid-forties and had a receding hairline. Quirking his thick brows, the older man leaned back to his heels and folded his arms.
“You are, obviously, late.” The teacher stated to which Ichigo replied with a grunt and narrower eyes. “And you are wearing your scary face.”
“This is my normal face.” Ichigo replied, frowning deeper.
“I see.” He turned to face the chalkboard and Ichigo took it as a cue to approach his desk. On his way, he saw Inoue glance at him, blinking her wide eyes inquiringly. He shook his head and quirked a small smile to reassure her. She beamed in return and returned her attention to the opened notebook before her.
The class went very slowly which Ichigo spent thirty minutes of it twirling his pen and scowling at his desk. “So, let’s see, let’s see.” The chalk tapped the board, making a dull string of sounds. “Ah. Kurosaki,”
Grunting, the redhead lifted his head and narrowed his eyes.
“Your hair calls out to me, so don’t look at me like that.”
My hair… what?
“So, what is love?”
The class gaped, petrified. (Ishida’s glasses fell askew over his nose.)
“Excuse me?” growled Ichigo with slight menace in his tone as soon as he recovered from shock. “I must have heard you wrong.”
“Your ears are fine. What is love?”
The muscles in Ichigo’s jaw were twitching.
“Come on, Kurosaki-san. This is an English class. Show us what you’ve got.”
Ichigo did not look convinced; if possible, he looked more menacing as ever, ready to pounce like an angry orange-haired lion. The teacher, however, was undeterred. He even smiled.
“My, you’re a shy type, Kurosaki-san.”
A muscle twitched in his temple. In reply, the teacher launched into a monotonous speech: “Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is.”
The teacher smirked at his dumbfounded students.
“St. Augustine.” He drawled with a grin. “Neat, huh? And it’s long. And comprehensive. Now it’s your turn, Kurosaki-san.”
Ichigo felt the back of his ears go red as he became the center of attention. He hated to be the center of attraction. Sure, he did not mind being popular with delinquents for they provide on the spot workout, but to be on a spotlight while in a middle of one of his classes, a big no.
The teacher wriggled his eyebrows, goading him.
“Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds.” Ichigo growled, holding back his blush - if it was even possible.
“Shakespeare. Neat, Kurosaki-san, neat.” The English teacher leaned his hip against the table, arms folded in front of his chest. “So tell me, do you believe in love?”
This time, Ichigo lost his be-scared-be-very-scared-of-me look and spluttered, “W-What… What kind of question is that!”
“It is the kind of question that requires either a yes or a no answer. Simple, right?”
Ichigo was close to ripping his hair out. Or Keigo’s intestines. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He growled.
“Maybe, but I’m not letting you off the hook. Too bad, huh?”
The redheaded teen glowered.
“So,” The glower darkened. “Do you believe in the encompassing power of love?”
“I…” Ichigo was writhing in his seat; he was not good with words - he was a man of action. But their lesson required him to open his mouth and speak. “I care for my family and friends.” He growled, nostrils flaring.
“And?” the teacher urged.
“And yeah, I believe in love.” He snapped, glowering defensively.
Beside him, Keigo opened his mouth but Ichigo threw him a withering look that promised a lot of broken bones and a broken nose. The brunet took the hint and snapped his mouth shut.
The teacher smiled in a way that further aggravated Ichigo. “Have you been in love, Kurosaki-san?”
Amber eyes bulged and this time, Ichigo was unable to impede the spreading of blush across his mortified face. “W-What the hell are you talking about!?” he all but yelled whilst writhing in his seat in panic, gripping the edges of his desk. His seatmates inched away from him, fearing that he’ll start combusting.
“I like your reaction.” The teacher nodded, impressed. “That’s special. Answer the question now. We’re all waiting.”
Ichigo gulped, sweating. Suddenly, he felt weak, defeated, flustered and many other things he could not identify. And it was all because of a stupid question. He could feel the stares of his classmates, most especially the curious gaze of one honey-haired girl. All he wanted now was to disappear and maybe, throw his chair at his smirking teacher.
“Have you, Kurosaki-san?”
But he refused to go down that easily. “I said I care about my family and friends!”
The older man shook his head patiently and spoke in a tone as if he was talking to a sulking two year old boy. “I’m talking about passionate love,” the teacher elaborated which meaning was apparently understood by Ichigo who now sported a darker scowl and redder cheeks.
Ichigo spluttered, “I-It’s… It’s none of your business!” He finished finally.
“Well, we have time to spare. We don’t mind waiting, do we?” The class shakily murmured its assent. “Simply saying you believe in love is easy. But,” there was a dramatic pause. “What made you believe in love? You must have experienced its burning passion.”
Ichigo barred his teeth.
“So, tell me, have you been in love, Kurosaki-san?”
He did not know why, he did not notice but one heartbeat, two, three, four, five later, he turned his head and through the mist of curious gazes and faces, he saw honey-brown eyes. They were wide with curiosity. And he stared straight into them, and they drowned him, pulling him in, dazzling him.
Five, six, seven, eight heartbeats later, he answered.
“Yes, I have.”
The bell rang.