The classroom door clacks loudly as it is slid open too fast. Ichigo strides in with a bounce in his step and takes his usual seat. He returns his friend's cheerful greetings and generously listens as Keigo rants about his latest fascination. Even when Tatsuki and Honshou get into a fight over Inoue's honor, he doesn't lose his good mood. Then Momoyama steps in and the other students quiet as Ichigo gets up to directly approach him.
"Sorry for last week," he calmly tells the wary boy. "I can get a bit cranky when my territory is invaded. Looks like we'll be rivals from now on, so may the best man win."
"Eh?"
Walking away without further explanation, Ichigo returns to his desk and pulls something small and flat from his bag. His friends ask what that was about but he just shakes his head. They'll find out soon enough.
Ishida enters the classroom next, resolutely ignoring Ichigo as he has been since that interaction at his place, and greets Momoyama as he finds his desk. He gives the boy a few minutes to develop a false sense of security before once again rising to visit the front half of the room. A folded piece of paper with only Ishida's given name penned on top is dropped in the middle of his desk. Glancing at Ichigo curiously, he picks it up by one corner.
"What is this supposed to be?"
"A love letter." Ishida releases the square in surprise as their classmates explode in a frenzy of appalled whispers. "Wait to read it until you're alone."
Relishing his astonished expression, Ichigo takes his seat and kicks back to smirk from afar. Ichigo: 1, Peach-Boy: 0.
The day progresses too slowly from there. He is antsy waiting for lunch so he can make his next move. The past week since that auspicious epiphany has mostly been spent thinking carefully about what he wants and then coming up with an elaborate plan for how he is going to beat Momoyama at his own game and win Ishida over for himself. The letter, written in the style of a Shakespearean sonnet—in English—was first in a series of ideas he prepared to do just that.
Tracking him down during break, Ichigo goes into the classroom hosting the handicrafts club and places two chilled cans on a narrow corner of desk not covered with colorful supplies. Ishida slowly lowers the cloth he is embroidering and eyes the drinks impassively. His gaze skips up to meet Ichigo's but he doesn't voice the question he must be wondering. Plopping into the chair beside him, Ichigo crosses an ankle over his knee and leans an elbow against the desk to appear more casual than he feels.
"Wasn't sure whether you liked coffee or tea better, so I got one of each." Ishida purses his lips and goes right back to sewing. He doesn't touch the offered beverages. "Not thirsty? I'll get snacks instead. Do you like Danishes?"
"No."
"What about melon bread?"
"No."
"French fries?"
"No."
"Mackerel miso stew?"
Spearing him with a sharp look, Ishida shrugs one shoulder and says, "Sure, if you happen to have one of my favorite dishes handy, I would take you up on that."
"Then I'll bring some next week."
The boy falters at the possibility of that notion. He carefully sets down his needlepoint and leans in, Ichigo automatically mirroring him.
"Why are you doing this?" he hisses too quietly to be overheard by the other club members. "Tell me you weren't serious last week!"
"Do you think I'd joke about that?" Ichigo whispers back.
"I think you've grown bold in your boredom waiting for the next war to break out."
Ouch, thinks Ichigo with a light wince, that stings. Tempted to go into a tirade of how he isn't that kind of person—and why would Ishida even suggest it?—he bites his tongue and changes the subject for the sake of not getting into a pointless argument.
"Have you read my letter yet?" Ishida shakes his head and withdraws to begin packing up his supplies. "Read it now."
"What makes you think I haven't already thrown it away?"
"I bet it's in your pocket." A brush of color tints Ishida's cheeks. He stuffs the last wheel of thread into his pack and stands to walk out. Ichigo grabs the drinks and follows him into the empty hall. "Let's go to the restroom, for privacy. No one ever uses the one at the end of this hall during lunch."
"I'm going back to class to wait for next period."
Stepping ahead to walk backwards in front of him, Ichigo holds out one of the cans to him as he says, "Take it or it'll go to waste. Come on, it's just tea. I didn't poison it."
The tiniest sigh slips from Ishida as he draws to a stop. He reaches out to take the coffee held at Ichigo's side instead of the tea raised between them. Fingers graze with the exchange, triggering an electric zing up his arm. Ishida pops the tab and takes a long swig of the sweet liquid, licking residue from his lip. Such a small thing, yet it has Ichigo fantasizing about kissing him all over again.
"Satisfied?"
"Not even close," admits Ichigo as he struggles to dispel wayward thoughts. "Definitely not until you read my letter."
Ishida regards him with stoic resignation. His free hand delves into the left pocket of his uniform slacks and retrieves Ichigo's poem. Unfolding it with only five dexterous fingers while sipping coffee, he starts to read it in the middle of the hallway. Ichigo grabs the strap of Ishida's bag and uses it to tug him into the nearby restroom. All five stalls are vacant, as predicted. He flicks the lock on the main door just in case.
"You're shy about this now even though you gave it to me in front of our entire class?"
"I told you to wait until you were alone."
"Oh, then you'd better leave, as well."
"Shut up and read," he urges with a dark smirk. "Before I recite it to you instead."
Looking frightened by the very prospect, Ishida sets his drink on the counter to straighten the page and scan its contents.
"Ode to a Nerdy Quincy
There once lived a prince of many talents.
Clever, swift, caring, and handsome was he,
Even lacking no prudence of mind since
He knew nothing in life was ever free.
Then one day the prince met a warrior,
Who saw him only as a strong ally
And led him toward a sky much darker
Than any he had ever dared to fly.
Yet, when the great warrior lost his way,
Confusing friend with foe, evil with good
It was the prince who knew just what to say
Bravely showing him where he really stood.
Thus the prince cleared the gloomy sky above,
Easily winning the warrior's love."
Ichigo watches closely for any change in expression, but there is none. The glare of white paper reflects in his glasses to hide his eyes. It doesn't take him long at all to finish the brief sonnet. The single sheet crinkles in the strained silence as Ishida drops his arm to his side. He meets Ichigo's expectant gaze at last.
"Kurosaki, this—"
"I was also serious about wanting you to call me 'Ichigo', if you think you can manage it."
"I-Ichigo," he obligingly pronounces with difficulty, "This is actually...quite good. You wrote it by yourself?"
"Yep. Better than anything that lame Momoyama could come up with, huh?" Ishida's expression shutters at the mention of his new friend's name. He smacks the poem to Ichigo's chest for him to catch or not and pivots on a heel to unlock the door. "Wait, where are you going? That's all you have to say?"
"What more do you need? You've proven your creative superiority. I would offer you a prize but it seems the boost to your ego is sufficient."
"That's not—" he tries to say but Ishida leaves before he can finish with, "the reason I wrote it. Shit."
Leaning against the wall, Ichigo scowls at the abandoned can of coffee as a surrogate for its crotchety owner. He was so sure the plan would be a success. Ishida even said he thought the poem was good, only getting annoyed when his precious pal was mentioned. Is the new kid that special to him that Ichigo's attempts at competition irritate rather than flatter? At this rate, he is going to alienate Ishida before he convinces him.
Maybe he should back off for a little while. Looking at it logically, Ichigo has no direct evidence that Momoyama is actively pursuing him in the first place. It could all be in his head. The better plan might be playing it cool and waiting for Ishida to realize how brightly he shines in comparison to the transfer student. Given time, a favorable conclusion will surely result.
The door swinging open beside him derails Ichigo's thoughts. He looks up and twitches when none other than Momoyama walks through and greets him. Running a hand through swoopy brown hair, he offers a sunny smile that sets Ichigo on edge.
"Good afternoon, Kurosaki-kun. I was hoping I could trouble you for a moment of your time."
"What's up?" he assents, straightening to face the newcomer. "Wait, how did you know I was in here?"
"Because I just saw you dragging Ishida-kun into this restroom."
"Oh. Right."
"Anyway, about what you said this morning, regarding 'invasion of territory'..."
"Uh, actually, I guess I shouldn't have—"
"You may have seen him first, but I'm the one who has the guts to go for it." Ichigo's mouth falls open a little as his suspicions are shamelessly confirmed. Momoyama narrows his eyes and leans in aggressively, "Besides, Ishida-kun sees you as a nuisance, nothing more. Quit while you're ahead because you do not want to go head-to-head with me. I've done this too many times to lose to a fumbling novice who isn't even out yet."
"What!? 'Out'...?"
The boy rolls his eyes and plants a hand on his hip, the other gesturing widely to Ichigo in open disdain.
"You've gotta be kidding me. This is what I'm up against, a guy who doesn't know that much? Let me ask you something: do you want to fuck Ishida or not?"
"Don't talk about him like that!"
"Well? Do you?" Glowering at the belligerent boy, Ichigo doesn't dignify the crude question with a response. "Because I do. I want to stick my tongue down his throat, throw open his legs and taste his screams as I split him open."
Ichigo reacts before thinking, lunging forth to slam the boy roughly against the door with a wordless snarl. Momoyama laughs.
"Shut the hell up! I told you not to say that shit about Ishida."
"Ooh, sensitive are we? This is all your type is good for, Kurosaki; thoughtless violence and bottomless rage. You want to beat me up, don't you?" Yes, he really does. Ichigo clenches a fist in the boy's crisp shirt to keep it from rearing back for a punch. "What if I said I'm gonna get him to suck me off, my fingers tugging at his shiny black hair, so I can come all over his pretty face?"
A vein pops out on Ichigo's forehead. He won't give the little freak the satisfaction of proving him a mindless thug, though. That seems to be exactly what Momoyama wants. Then he can go running to Ishida claiming he got attacked by the big bad jerk who has been harassing him lately. Through sheer force of will, Ichigo releases the fabric in his hands and takes a deliberate step back. Surprise flashes over Momoyama's features.
"If you think it'll be that easy, go ahead and try. But I know Ishida better than almost anyone and he's not nearly dumb enough to fall for the sick games of a lying snake like you."
"Does that mean you'll stay out of my way?"
"It means watch your back, Momoyama."
Nodding contemplatively, he regards Ichigo with something akin to respect. He smirks in acceptance of the challenge.
"Same to you, Kurosaki."
It starts out simply enough. Determined to beat the usurper at his own game, Ichigo doesn't try appealing to Ishida with this new side of Momoyama's despicable personality. He has no reason to believe Ichigo over that smiling rat, other than years of friendship which seems to amount to less than he thinks it really should. No, he won't go that route and neither will he throw in the towel to clear the ring for a false champion. He'll stick to his original plan and show Ishida why he is the better candidate for his affections.
Which is why he ends up crashing an after-school archery club session demanding a 'duel' with Momoyama three days later.
Apparently Ishida is through asking why he is doing what he is doing, as he stands off to the side watching proceedings with a detached air. He had been adjusting Momoyama's grip on the bow when Ichigo walked up, and just the sight of their hands barely touching was enough to set his blood boiling in rage. Reigning it in, he approached the duo and promptly demanded a fair competition, ignoring members' comments and questions regarding his dubious archery skills. It's true he hasn't really done it before, but it can't be that hard. Right?
"Whoever gets closer to the bull's-eye across three shots wins," he heatedly proposes, picking up a nearby bow. Ishida raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Unless you're scared, Momoyama?"
The boy chuckles. "I'll gladly accept. Though it's hardly fair to you. What's the prize?"
"The winner," Ichigo dramatically pauses, raising a finger to point at Ishida, "Gets to treat him to coffee."
"What? I don't even like coffee, Kurosaki."
"But earlier this week, you—" Cutting himself off with a frustrated sound, he glares at Ishida for being intentionally difficult. "Tea, then. I don't care."
"Who said you could volunteer my time for some stupid competition? I refuse."
"You don't get to refuse! You're going whether you like it or not, so get over it."
A confused jumble of muttering results from their brief spat. The other students around them don't know whether to be annoyed at the disruption or amused by his antics. Ichigo ignores them all and snatches an arrow in preparation to go first. Assuming something like a shooting stance, he aims at the distant target. Pulls back the string. Stifled giggling erupts behind him.
"What?" he turns to indignantly ask the noisy collective. No one answers him. Starting over, he once again twitches at their laughter. "What the hell is so funny?"
His eyes fall sharply on a girl covering her smile with a small hand. She squeaks and sobers under the attention but remains silent. Ishida makes his way over to stand in front of him
"Stop this foolishness, Kurosaki. You're disrupting club activities and as Student Council president I cannot allow you to impinge on their limited schedule at this range for the sake of a petty squabble."
"Oh, don't give me that crap. This won't take long and then the club can go about its business."
"I must insist," Ishida grits with a meaningful look. "This isn't the time."
"Shall I go first, Kurosaki-kun?" interjects Momoyama as Ichigo tries to figure out the obvious subtext behind his friend's message. "Ishida-kun is right: we should hurry this along."
"Sure, whatever."
Momoyama beams at him and gracefully lifts his bow to draw and fire in one smooth, efficient motion. The arrow zooms to its target and spears dead-center with ease. Ichigo swallows hard. He glances to Ishida, guessing that is the reason he was trying to talk him out of this. Despite his critical frown, he was looking out for Ichigo all along, trying to save him from humiliation. It's too late now. If he tries to back out, everyone will know it's because he is intimidated by Momoyama's abilities. He won't give that bastard the satisfaction.
Ishida sees it written all over his face. He stops Ichigo with a grip on his shoulder as he tries to step up for the shot.
"Wait. You said it yourself, Hikaru-kun: this contest is hardly fair. Kurosaki has never had any formal training with archery, much less the handful of advanced pointers I've shown you."
"What are you getting at?" Ichigo asks him. "You can't convince me to bow out."
"Think I don't already know that? You're the most obstinate person I've ever known! Doesn't change the fact you're at a disadvantage here."
"What do you suggest, Ishida-kun?"
"Give me twenty minutes alone with him," he tells Momoyama before turning back to Ichigo. "I'll give you the same advice I offered Hikaru-kun, solely in the interest of evening the scales. In the meantime, the club can resume practice and you two can start over with a fresh round when we return. Agreed?"
After a pause, both contenders reluctantly nod acquiescence. Ishida tugs his wrist to drag him off the range and out of earshot. He takes the bow and arrow from Ichigo's grip to place them on the ground.
"Expert in twenty minutes, huh? You must be some tutor. Why bother? Might as well have left me to my doom."
"This is your own fault, Kurosaki. If you weren't so relentlessly stubborn over the silliest things—"
"I wouldn't call a date with you a 'silly thing'." That shuts Ishida up faster than any angry or biting word Ichigo ever spoke to him. "You know that's really why I'm doing this, don't you? I'm not just bored and this isn't a damn joke: I like you, Uryuu."
"Eighteen minutes and counting. Try to focus, will you? First is the archer's stance, which is done like this."
One by one, Ishida shows him the proper method for each stage. Ichigo does his best to listen despite a nagging frustration with the boy for refusing to acknowledge his confession again. He fumbles the arrow while trying to nock it on the bow that he hadn't even strung properly earlier—which explains why the club members were laughing at him. Well, one reason of several, as it turns out. Patiently yet sternly instructing him, Ishida steps back with an approving nod when he finally gets everything right two minutes to the deadline. Ichigo lowers the bow and pins his teacher with a serious gaze.
"Thank you." Averting his eyes, Ishida starts to say something dismissive. Ichigo interrupts with a light touch to his hand, "I mean it. You didn't have to help me like this. It would've been funnier to watch me go down in flames."
"Yes, well...it pains me to watch a fellow Quincy handle our traditional weapon so poorly."
It's the first time Ishida has ever officially recognized their shared heritage. Probably since it means he can't call Ichigo a 'stupid Shinigami' anymore. Regardless of the motive, it makes him smile. Shifting his light hold on Ishida's hand, he completes the tentative gesture by clasping it more securely.
"If you're that concerned, I'd be willing to accept private lessons until you're satisfied with my performance."
Color rises at the double-entendre. Ishida withdraws his hand—gently rather than harshly, Ichigo notices—and forces a shallow frown.
"Time's up. Get back there and preserve our clan's pride."
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say it sounds like you want me to win," he teases as they start walking towards the range. "Are you that eager to have tea with me?"
"Actually, I prefer coffee."
Ichigo nudges him with an elbow, stomach giving a giddy flip to see Ishida's small smirk for the jibe. It disappears when Momoyama and the archery club students come into view. Without a single word, Ichigo strides right into position and fires his first arrow with all the help of the tips he just learned. It hits the target, slightly left of center. He grins anyway, knowing it was likely only Ishida's mercy that allowed it to land at all. A surprised surge of whispers precedes scattered applause.
"Fast learner, Kurosaki-kun?"
"Nah, I just have an awesome sensei."
Momoyama starts to scowl, but turns it into a tight smile at the last second. He takes his first shot of the second round and nails it. The onlookers clap for him, too. Ichigo is starting to resent having an audience to witness this and gossip later. Although that was part of the whole point, to prove to Ishida that he wasn't ashamed of his affection for the boy. Except that was when he still thought he had a good chance of beating the new transfer. That thought in mind, he steels his resolve to prevail against poor odds. No way is he going to let Momoyama take his date out for tea/coffee instead!
A deep breath in and he is lining up his next shot. Slow breath out, release.
Excited cheers celebrate his first true bull's-eye. He looks back just in time to watch astonishment flit across Ishida's face. A warm bubble expands in his chest, lending him levity and inspiration. Momoyama scoffs.
"You sure you've never done this before?" he asks Ichigo with suspicious eyes.
"I guess I'm a natural." The same girl from earlier giggles behind her hand again. Momoyama readies his next shot. Right before he draws back on the string, Ichigo says, "You know that thing you told me the other day, about what you wanted to do with Ishida? It's never gonna happen. I'll make sure of that."
Spearing him with a glare, the boy aims carefully but misses the center by several centimeters, worse than Ichigo's first shot. All he has to do is make a final perfect score and that date is his; it won't matter how well Momoyama hits the third target. But now the pressure is on and Ichigo's heart is pounding. Palms sweating, fingers slipping. The string snaps him as he tries to draw. He mutters a low curse.
"Get it together, Kurosaki. We don't have all day."
Ishida's words and tone are callous but his expression is soft. The rich blue of his eyes locked onto Ichigo's has a relaxing effect on him. Wiping his palms on his slacks, he grips the bow firmly and tries again. The arrow flies to the target, imperfect but very close. He sets the weapon down and backs away, waving to the gathered students applauding his efforts. Not to be forgotten, Momoyama is quick to slide in and prepare for his last attempt.
"Maybe next time, Kurosaki-kun. I'll be claiming that prize after all."
Before he can loose the arrow, Ishida crosses the range to lean close and murmur something only Ichigo can hear. He grins and Momoyama falters at the last instant. The arrow imbeds into hard-packed earth almost a meter from the target. The boy freezes in shock while the crowd behind coos in sympathy, then offers Ichigo casual congratulations. Ishida and the other students disperse quickly after that, heading back into the school to collect their supplies and head home for the day.
With only the two of them lingering, Momoyama advances on Ichigo with obvious irritation.
"Good game," he genially tells the fuming boy.
"What did he say to you?"
"Who, Ishida?" He snickers as Momoyama turns red with fury. "He said 'pick me up Saturday at two o'clock'."
"But I hadn't lost yet!"
"It's another one of those things I know about Ishida that you don't: he won't be 'claimed' by anyone, whether you're a first-class creep or not."
Feeling lighter than sun beams, Ichigo struts off and leaves Momoyama gaping in the revelation that he was his own downfall.
