A/N: It's been a while since I've published anything on here (about...4 years, yikes!), so please forgive me if I'm rusty in the ways of fanfic. This is my first story for the fandom as well, so don't be too rough on me! I love Hanataro and even though this isn't my favorite pairing for Ichigo, I think it's sweet. Anyways, this is more of an introduction–I'll try to flesh the both of them out in further chapters. So, enjoy if you will the first chapter of Lessons!
Hanataro Yamada endured what he liked to refer to as a "comfortable invisibility." It had been a way of life for as long as he could recall. In his own eyes, the content of his person just didn't add up to much of an impactful existence. He was intelligent, but not remarkably so. His diminutive stature opened him up for hostility; however, his polite, unassuming nature made him an almost unthinkable target. Thus, unworthy of either praise or ridicule, Hanataro slipped into the teenage gray of his school. And that suited him well enough, for a crippling sense of shyness pervaded him. People didn't frighten him–necessarily, though on occasion those possessing considerable size and power did. No more specifically, it was the demand of human interaction which set his heart into pulses alacritous, spread a cold sweat all over his skin. He lacked the fundamental skills to form friendships; and slowly with the dull ache unique of youth, he gave up the expectation of succeeding in that onerous endeavor.
As a child, having no siblings or playmates, he would create imaginary friends with which to carry on the usual developmental rites. They would always be dazzling and charming and clever, and for hours he amused himself in his room with this company. However, very quickly Hanataro learned the futility of this behavior. That no matter what tricks he played with his own mind, he couldn't banish the lonely days which followed him. His kind adoptive mother, Retsu Unohana, observed all this with a mother's hurt. She wished that he could find a dash of bravery in himself to strike out in the world, and not play so close to the vest. His life became something of a routine, merely repeated day by day, lacking joy.
His singular solace he found in science. While generally ignored or forgotten by those around him, Hanataro nonetheless effused an indefatigable benevolence. He dreamed of becoming a nurse, as the rigors of becoming a doctor proved too much of a mental challenge. Holding another's life in his hands so directly... of course so does a nurse, but not to the same extent. The aura of a patient, devoted healer indeed belonged to Hanataro. He excelled in advanced biology and chemistry, even mathematics. His interest and competency were spurred not by a vainglorious scholarship symptomatic of his university obsessed peers, but rather a genuine passion for the subjects at hand and the capacity with which they could further his dream.
Each year of high school passed like the others: lonesome, yet mentally occupied. At times Hanataro felt his isolation more than others. Just because one develops a familiarity with his state does not mean he regards it with any semblance of fondness. He longed to share with another–laughter, secrets, memories, intimacy. He did his best not to dwell on it, though. It was easier after all to balance a chemical equation than to reconcile a heart to reality. This day, too, surely would fade into the foggy stream with all others. He raised himself from the warm duvet of his bed, and went to prepare himself for it nonetheless. As the steaming water poured over his thin, pale form, Hanataro felt a familiar clench in his chest. Most mornings were spent preparing himself for the day to come. He knew his life wasn't awful, that he had a great deal to be thankful for, and that things could be much worse. But he still couldn't help the sensation that something was missing within him. After his shower and breakfast, he took his daily walk to school. Every inhalation of the cooling air set his mind at ease. It'll be okay... It'll be okay.
Hanataro had failed to account for the effect of outside forces in his quiet world.
The discordant clang of the school's bell tore through the florescent lit air, rousing the dreary heads of students running on far too little sleep. Outside, autumn wove her wraith arms through his town, bright colors scattered like errant embers in a hearth. Hanataro packed his bag, observing for a moment maple leaves caught in the air. How free they look... it must be nice that way...
"Hey, Hanataro!"
A firm but amiable greeting severed the tender tether of his reverie, catching him off guard. Hanataro turned, chemistry book in hand, to encounter an inviting face crowned with orange hair. Oh no... it's him! Ichigo Kurosaki of course was one of, if not the most, popular boys in the school. The star of every team he played on, the guy all the others wanted to be buds with and every girl wanted to be seen with, and perhaps most damningly, the most handsome boy Hanataro ever laid eyes on. Why... could he possibly want to talk to me? It must be a joke...
"Y-Yes?" Hanataro cursed himself as he couldn't entirely veil his discomfort.
Ichigo smiled generously, not missing a beat, "Sorry to bother you, but I saw your grade from the last quiz. It's no secret you slaughter everyone else in Chem."
The taller boy chuckled slightly, almost causing Hanataro to blush, "You're too kind..."
"Be that as it may, I was wondering if you could maybe help me out after school? Ya know, as a tutor? If my grade drops any more the coach'll pull me off the team for the rest of the semester."
"Maybe then one of us could get in a few plays..." Renji Abarai added sardonically. Ichigo's heavily tattooed best friend stood beside him with obvious annoyance at having to deal with Hanataro. He was certainly one of those that intimidated the smaller boy. Renjo always donned an unreadable scowl that made one want to apologize without having done a thing.
"Shut up, Renji!" Ichigo playfully smacked his friend in the arm.
"Jus' sayin', might be nice to give the rest of your team a chance."
"Yeah yeah...anyway, it'd only be a coupla days a week. I know you must be busy, and I can't really pay you... but! My sister cooks really well, and you could stay for dinner! So, waddya say, Hanataro?"
There was something about the honesty and slight desperation in Ichigo's voice and his open face which made Hanataro's heart beat faster than it already was. In truth, as Ichigo said, he was very busy. Besides a full course load, Hanataro volunteered at the local hospital. He couldn't find it in himself to refuse.
"Sure, that'd be okay Ichigo."
A visible wave of relief washed over Ichigo's countenance, and he lightly gripped his new instructor's shoulder, "Oh man, thanks so much! Really. Here, can I have your phone?" He must have caught a puzzled look on Hanataro's face as he chuckled in amusement, "So I can give you my number." Once holding the raven haired boy's phone, he continued, "Text me after school and I'll give you my address. It's a short walk from the school, don't worry."
Hanataro took back his device feeling both a twinge of anxiety and excitement, "I'll see you later, then."
"Yep." Ichigo nodded with a smile, collecting his messenger bag. "And thanks again, bye!" The energetic youth hurried off, Renji following close behind–who didn't deem it necessary to say anything at all to Hanataro.
Oh god, why did I say yes?
The rest of the day passed in an anticipatory blur. The truth was, not only was Hanataro gay–at heart though untested practically–but for years he harbored a crush on Ichigo Kurosaki. He was the boy Hanataro so wished he were: outgoing, confident, fit, popular, carefree. Beyond shallow admiration, there was something else. An intangible quality about Ichigo: a certain sincere of care for those around him. Whether it was Renji, Sado, Orihime, or even Uryu, Ichigo went out of his way to make sure everyone he valued was happy and safe. The aspiring medic wanted to be one lucky enough to receive such attention. It seemed wholly impossible–until now. The sheer fact that Ichigo had sought him out made Hanataro feel more real somehow. It was... nice to be noticed. Before long, Hanataro found himself walking out of school and his fingers moving across the keyboard of his phone.
"Hello Ichigo, it's Hanataro Yamada. Could you send me your address, please?" He saw that Ichigo was typing and didn't have to wait long for a response.
"Haha, so formal! Here, it's _. See you soon :)"
Hanataro quickly discovered that the Kurosaki's lived not too far from he himself. Ironic, all things considered. Standing in their doorway, he hesitated ringing the bell. What if I'm no good at this... I don't want to let him down, then he'll hate me. No. Just ring the bell, Hanataro. Just ring th––
"Hello there! You must be Ichigo's pal Hanataro!" Before he could complete his thought, the front door burst open to reveal, who could only be, Ichigo's father–a booming figure of unexpected exuberance. "Well don't just stand there! Come on in!"
"Oh, tha–" In one swift movement Hanataro was pulled into the house with the door shut behind him. –nk you, sir."
"Sheesh, no 'sirs', please. Call me Isshin. I'm Ichigo's old man. Nice to meet ya."
"Likewise, si–I mean Isshin."
"Heh, good save. Listen, thanks for helping the kid out. Academics aren't his strong suit. He's no dummy of course! But..."
"It's no problem, really!"
"All the same. Dinner's at seven. Yuzu, his younger sister, is a whiz in the kitchen. Go on up!"
Hanataro removed his shoes once Isshin went into the living room, and proceeded upstairs. He heard some popular music coming from a door slightly ajar, and took it to be his schoolmate's. Actually, Ichigo was in the class ahead. Meaning at the end of next semester, he'd be off to university–and away from Hanataro's sight. A thought he didn't care to dwell on. The boy rapt lightly at the door, "Ichigo?"
With this disturbance, the door opened to reveal Ichigo in bed, legs crossed, donned–instead of his usual uniform–in basketball shorts, an American team jersey, and ankle socks. The ensemble highlighted all the features of his body: toned, powerful arms, long, smooth legs, the tempting scoop of his resolute chest... Don't. He was looking over their textbook, tapping his feet to the music. It seemed he hadn't heard, so Hanataro knocked again, trying not to let the sight distract him.
"Shit! Hanataro! Sorry, I didn't see you there." He unplugged his phone from the speaker and moved to his desk with the book, "My dad let you in?"
Hanataro couldn't help a bemused chuckle, "Yes, he's very..."
"Obnoxious? Ha, yeah he's a bit much."
"Oh, I didn't mean...!"
"Don't worry, I know. 'S where I get my pep from I guess. C'mon, sit down." Ichigo pulled another chair from near his closet to the desk.
"Thanks." As Hanataro entered, he took in the dwelling: it was sparse, relatively neat–he only had some clothes strew about on top of hardwood floors, some posters, the essentials, a nice window overlooking the town which at present allowed a glorious stream of late afternoon light through horizontal blinds. Hanataro took his seat beside Ichigo, unable to resist taking in his scent: soothing, musky, masculine. "S-So...what did you want to work on first?"
"Um...everything?" Letting out a nervous and slightly embarrassed laugh, he ruffled his hair.
Don't do that... Hanataro thought to himself desperately. "Well, maybe let's start where we left off on the last quiz, okay?"
"You're the boss!" Ichigo put his hand on the back of Hanataro's chair and leaned in as they shared the book and the slighter boy found the page.
"All right, Stoichiometry."
Dinner came faster than either of them expected, having delved into the material handedly. The meal itself proved delicious, and as Hanataro left he promised to return later in the week.
"He seems rather adorable." Isshin ventured once the guest had gone home.
"Dad..."
"Does he know you're doing fine in Chemistry?"
"Don't meddle!"
"Too late, I already had to dumb you down when he got here."
"No one asked you to!"
"Your ruse was so thin..."
"Wait, dumbed me down?! What did you say old man!"
"Nothing~!"
"Goddammit..."