[bleach] Signature
Date: 5 February 2006
Title: Signature
Fandom: Bleach
Characters: Yumichika, Ikkaku
Pairings: a hint of Yumikkaku
Warnings/Spoilers: None. Written for
memlu. Originally found here. Contains a phrase that, realistically, only fanfic-familiar would know, but creative licensing. Slightly edited.
Let us pan over the 11th Division Headquarters. A lovely headquarters, with grinning faces, upbeat conversations (if slightly vulgar), playful rough-housing (ignoring the blood), and even a pink-haired child jumping about, chewing on unsuspecting heads. It is a peaceful headquarters.
Yet, what is this that we hear? We shall follow this sound that is on the edge of our hearing zone. Ah, it is now clear enough to be labelled grumbling. Who, I wonder, would grumble like so in such a beautiful environment?
We turn a corner, and enter a square room occupied several desks. Ah! Look! There's the grumbler. We first see his black clothes - an apparent uniform in this area. Sliding upward, we meet the back of his bald -
Excuse us for a moment. The cameraman has been blinded.
That's better. Now, let us creep closer to this noisemaker. Perhaps we will hear of what troubles him...
Ikkaku was Not a Happy Shinigami right now. A Happy Shinigami would be outside, enjoying the sun, writing corny haiku, killing a few people, or even attempting to reconcile with Hell's work (also known as modern technology). No, a Happy Shinigami would not be cooped up inside with no one to talk to, signing several stacks of papers, all because a vain partner of his just COULDN'T MISS ONE OF HIS DAMN MANICURE APPOINTMENTS.
Ikkaku slammed his head onto the table, coincidentally spilling flecks of ink all over his hairless head. An eye twitched. "That lazy-ass peacock." It was bad enough that Ikkaku had to sign these stacks - he didn't need the higher aggravation of having to sign it in Yumichika's signature.
Yumichika's signature was special. Hell, everything about Yumichika was special, but his signature was SOMETHING ELSE. Oh, no one could deny that it was a prime example of beautiful calligraphy. However, no one knew that it took Yumichika a total of three fucking minutes to write that damn signature (three minutes and twenty-two seconds was the exact time, Ikkaku learned after a day of boredom). It was an improvement from the six minutes it used to take to write (six minutes and thirty-eight).
Unfortunately, Ikkaku was neither 1) practiced in the art of Yumichika's Signature, nor 2) had the patience to write the peacock's damn signature three hundred times at five minutes a signa-
Halfway through Yumichika's name, his entire body was twitching so badly that he forced himself to zone out before something DIED.
---
Yumichika glanced at the messenger after (again) admiring his utterly beautiful hands. "Yes?" Really, that manicurist - even if she had the most unattractive hairstyle this side of the Soul Society - was a true genius. His silence in regards to her ugliness was a humongous sign of his respect towards her work. He had better make another appointment soon.
"Er, Yumichika, sir. The, uh, higher-ups would like you to know -" really, stuttering was a disgusting habit, "-ey are all very happy that the er s-sexualt-tensionbetweenth-thetwoofyouwasresolved, and they u-understand that you want to, uh, stakeyourclaim, b-but they would prefer that y-you would stop signing with Y-Yumikkaku be-because it'smessingwiththesystemthatwasallhaveagooddaysirbye."
It was not until later that Yumichika realized his first thought had been, "At least he knows who tops."
Title: Signature
Fandom: Bleach
Characters: Yumichika, Ikkaku
Pairings: a hint of Yumikkaku
Warnings/Spoilers: None. Written for
memlu. Originally found here. Contains a phrase that, realistically, only fanfic-familiar would know, but creative licensing. Slightly edited.
Let us pan over the 11th Division Headquarters. A lovely headquarters, with grinning faces, upbeat conversations (if slightly vulgar), playful rough-housing (ignoring the blood), and even a pink-haired child jumping about, chewing on unsuspecting heads. It is a peaceful headquarters.
Yet, what is this that we hear? We shall follow this sound that is on the edge of our hearing zone. Ah, it is now clear enough to be labelled grumbling. Who, I wonder, would grumble like so in such a beautiful environment?
We turn a corner, and enter a square room occupied several desks. Ah! Look! There's the grumbler. We first see his black clothes - an apparent uniform in this area. Sliding upward, we meet the back of his bald -
Excuse us for a moment. The cameraman has been blinded.
That's better. Now, let us creep closer to this noisemaker. Perhaps we will hear of what troubles him...
Ikkaku was Not a Happy Shinigami right now. A Happy Shinigami would be outside, enjoying the sun, writing corny haiku, killing a few people, or even attempting to reconcile with Hell's work (also known as modern technology). No, a Happy Shinigami would not be cooped up inside with no one to talk to, signing several stacks of papers, all because a vain partner of his just COULDN'T MISS ONE OF HIS DAMN MANICURE APPOINTMENTS.
Ikkaku slammed his head onto the table, coincidentally spilling flecks of ink all over his hairless head. An eye twitched. "That lazy-ass peacock." It was bad enough that Ikkaku had to sign these stacks - he didn't need the higher aggravation of having to sign it in Yumichika's signature.
Yumichika's signature was special. Hell, everything about Yumichika was special, but his signature was SOMETHING ELSE. Oh, no one could deny that it was a prime example of beautiful calligraphy. However, no one knew that it took Yumichika a total of three fucking minutes to write that damn signature (three minutes and twenty-two seconds was the exact time, Ikkaku learned after a day of boredom). It was an improvement from the six minutes it used to take to write (six minutes and thirty-eight).
Unfortunately, Ikkaku was neither 1) practiced in the art of Yumichika's Signature, nor 2) had the patience to write the peacock's damn signature three hundred times at five minutes a signa-
Halfway through Yumichika's name, his entire body was twitching so badly that he forced himself to zone out before something DIED.
---
Yumichika glanced at the messenger after (again) admiring his utterly beautiful hands. "Yes?" Really, that manicurist - even if she had the most unattractive hairstyle this side of the Soul Society - was a true genius. His silence in regards to her ugliness was a humongous sign of his respect towards her work. He had better make another appointment soon.
"Er, Yumichika, sir. The, uh, higher-ups would like you to know -" really, stuttering was a disgusting habit, "-ey are all very happy that the er s-sexualt-tensionbetweenth-thetwoofyouwasresolved, and they u-understand that you want to, uh, stakeyourclaim, b-but they would prefer that y-you would stop signing with Y-Yumikkaku be-because it'smessingwiththesystemthatwasallhaveagooddaysirbye."
It was not until later that Yumichika realized his first thought had been, "At least he knows who tops."