How I Met Your Mother, Kurosaki Isshin Style
"MY SON!"
Zwing! Zwing!
Thap. Thap.
Zwingzwing! zwingzwingzwing! thap! thapthapthap! thap!
Ichigo stared, saucer-eyed, at the perfectly Ichigo-shaped outline of hospital syringe needles embedded in the wall not even a meter to his left. Then he stared at the idiot, idiot, IDIOT man who supposedly made up half his genetic makeup and code.
"You look like a bullfrog when your eyes bug out like that, son," Isshin informed him.
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Ichigo shouted at his father, searching desperately for something sharp, heavy and preferably venomous to throw at the old man. Alas, his father knew him all too well, and had removed anything of even dubious hazard from the living room just before slipping a note under his son's door saying that they needed to speak right at this minute. Now the room was a shell. A white-walled, barren shell.
"You took two hours to appear!" Isshin said seriously.
"MAYBE because I didn't want to walk into some FUCKED-UP TRAP set up by a RETARDED OLD MAN," Ichigo seethed through gritted teeth.
"That's what naughty boys get!"
"What. Do. You. Want."
"Sit down, boy," Isshin gestured to the carpet at his feet. "We need to have a talk."
Ichigo remained standing. "Then. Talk. Spit it out. Get"
"We need to have a talk. A serious talk." He fiddled with his stethoscope, stretching it as far below his chin as he possibly could. Then he let go, and the heavy blunt sphere colliding with his nose with a sharp, loud (and satisfying) crack! "Ha! I always forget it does that!" Isshin said good-naturedly, rubbing his nose.
"That's because you're an idiot who should never be allowed anywhere near a hospital."
"But it's time to be serious, Ichigo."
"Then spit it out already! God!"
Isshin's face darkened, and Ichigo was wary.
"We need to discuss ... women."
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.
.
Finally, after nearly 20 minutes of wrestling, 4 booby traps and 13 binding spells, Isshin knew he finally had his son's undivided attention.
"I hope you do not find this position too uncomfortable," he said from his seat on Ichigo's back, peering down at his son's slightly-more-angry-and-scowly-than-usual face. "Daddy didn't want it to come to this, but you must learn to listen! Kurosaki men are very strong and muscular, but I know that my lean yet robust gluteus maximus still has enough cushioning to spare you from any serious back pain."
"MMMPHHGHH!" Ichigo spat out through his gag.
"Man up, son, we must have a serious father-son heart-to-heart."
Isshin pulled out a pack of candy cigarettes from his white coat pocket. "I want to appear cool and authoritative, but smoking kills, boy. Don't ever start. Use these instead," he winked.
Ichigo made no sound, save his angry, aggressive, loud breathing.
"I've known there's a girl in the house for a long time. Daddy's always known, but I couldn't think of the right time to tell you this. Now, I can tell you." Isshin smiled, his heart at peace.
Ichigo let out a noise that sounded almost like a growl.
"Ohh, my little crabby puppy son!" He took this moment to ruffle his son's hair without getting a punch to the throat. (Such a rare occurrence these days.) "But, you are not so young anymore, and something has been brought to my attention."
Isshin sucked on his candy cigarette thoughtfully. "I'm going to tell you a story," he said, finally, sinking into a flashback. "This is the story of ... how I met your mother."
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author's note: another story from me! WHOOOO! but seriously now. it's time we learned how masaki and isshin met. she sounds like an interesting lady, imho. isshin, smoking a cigarette, says that it was the only time she ever complimented him. intriguing, yes? and who doesn't love 'how i met your mother'
