Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to my very first reviewer, heriyandi kurosaki, and you too, CallMeSenseiKuchiki. Thank you both, and I hope you enjoy this chapter:)
Rating: T for language; may get upgraded to M as things escalate.
Disclaimer: Kubo owns Bleach; the story title belongs to the song by Van Halen.
Chapter 2
Karakura High School, 8:25 a.m.
Byakuya walked briskly to his first class. The hallways leading to the seniors' classrooms were depressingly dull, the walls coated with dirty white paint that was peeling and flaking. In many places, the paint had been scraped off in large patches, in a vain effort by the janitor to remove all traces of the students' creativity and creative vocabulary. As he rounded the corner, he realised that someone had been busy that morning; right there on the opposite left wall was a life-size crayon caricature of a woman with boobs the size of mini-submarines, hairy mole on her chin and fat lip. To complete the picture was this elegant caption : RANGIKU SUX SHUUS DICK.
This made Byakuya pause mid-step, eyebrows raised. Then he decisively turned his head and strode towards his destination down the far right: Class 17-A. He could hear the clickclickclick of his shoes on the grey concrete, in time to the blurred pounding of his heart against his eardrums. He reached the door of the classroom and paused, his hand on the knob; the steel felt cold in his sweaty grip. He could hear the boisterous energy of forty-odd students from the other side, their voices rising in a dull roar. Byakuya shut his eyes and took a deep breath.
What are you so afraid of?
This was the moment he dreaded the most. This infinitesimal pause, this nano-second at the threshold. With it, all the memories of what he had endured the past year. Standing numbly at the classroom door, sudden silences, their knowing stares, giggling, whispering, having seen the damn thing, like he was a goddamn animal in the zoo, not their teacher...day after day after day...
You're past all that, whispered the voice in his head, sounding strangely like his little sister.
This is a fresh start for you.
You're Professor Byakuya Kuchiki, and you cower for no one.
He opened his eyes, summoning his strength. His face instantly hardened into its mask, pale face with eyes like glittering steel. Squaring his shoulders, he opened the door and stepped inside.
Class 17-A, 8:30 a.m.
A hush fell over the classroom as the new professor entered. Forty curious eyes scanned and assessed him in the few seconds it took to walk gracefully to his desk. A new teacher was an unknown quantity and one had to be vigilant. This one certainly wasn't like the usual types they'd met. For one thing, he was sharply dressed in a crisp, fitted black blazer, pristine white shirt, black silk tie and tailor-made, neatly pressed black pants. His hair was cut short at the back and had long, side-swept fringes in the front, strands of which fell into his eyes and made him seem almost boyish.
But when he turned to face the class, his eyes surprised them. They were not nervous, but calculating, observant and keenly intelligent as he surveyed the students. Instinctively, the wiser students understood that this one was definitely not to be messed with.
At the back of the class, Ichigo and Renji exchanged glances.
"Good morning, every one. I am Professor Byakuya Kuchiki, and I will be your instructor for English Literature", stated the newcomer in a surprisingly deep voice. "I want each one of you to kindly stand up and introduce yourselves." No change of tone, not a trace of a smile in his face or demeanor.
Ichigo arched a brow. Ikkaku was right, he does have a rod up his ass.
One by one, the students stood and introduced themselves; the girls mostly breathless and giggly, the boys mostly wary and nervous. Professor Kuchiki walked up to each one, listened and acknowledged them with a curt nod. Finally it was Ichigo and Renji's turn. The atmosphere grew perceptibly tense.
Neither one got up from their seats.
"Ichigo Kurosaki," stated Ichigo blandly.
"Renji Abarai," drawled the red-head.
Professor Kuchiki came to a stop, and stood looking at them for a long moment. They stared back with expressionless faces, while their classmates held their breath. Finally, he spoke. "Stand up."
Neither moved an inch.
The professor spoke again, his voice even and perfectly calm: "Your behaviour is crass and rude. When your sensei introduces himself and takes the trouble to come to you, you should extend the same courtesy. Stand up and greet me properly."
Ichigo just cocked his head and continued to stare at him with narrowed eyes, while a slight smirk played on Renji's face.
Professor Kuchiki nodded. "Very well. Then I'll just stand here until you do." He walked up to the front of their desks, folded his arms and waited.
It was the most uncomfortable forty- five minutes in the history of the class. The students were unnaturally quiet due to the sheer tension that pervaded the room. None of them dared to speak as they watched the silent battle between the troublemakers and the new teacher. Abarai and Kurosaki had not moved a muscle during the first ten minutes. Gradually they started shifting in their seats. Then fidgeting. Crossing and uncrossing their arms. Jiggling their legs up and down. Renji resisted the urge to hum a tune. Ichigo realized that sitting still for so long gave him the need to piss. They occasionally shot incredulous looks at the stone wall that faced them in the form of Professor Kuchiki, who had not budged from his position nor shifted his inscrutable gaze. It was not as if they could simply get up and leave either, as doing so would mean indirectly admitting that they, two of Karakura High's most notorious delinquents, were rattled by the newcomer.
According to the estimates of some, it was forty five minutes, fifty one seconds and twelve milliseconds later that they finally had enough.
"ALRIGHT!" snarled Renji, as he shot to his feet, the impact shoving his desk a few feet forward. "Enough already! What the hell are you playing at, you bastard?!"
Several students shrank at the sight of Renji's anger. Byakuya did not flinch. "Didn't you hear what I said? Stand up, lower your voice and greet me respectfully. Is that too much for you to comprehend?"
Renji's face contorted and Byakuya briefly wondered if he was going to punch him. The red-head visibly struggled to gain control, enough to stand still and force out the words, "Renji Abarai...sensei."
Byakuya nodded, and turned to his comrade. "And you?"
Ichigo, who had been stock-still during Renji's outburst, slowly rose to his feet, his brown eyes smouldering with fury. He stared straight ahead without looking at the professor or acknowledging his presence. "Ichigo Kurosaki."
Byakuya bristled at the lack of honorific. One goal at a time. Today you made him stand, tomorrow you shall make him call you 'sensei'. He nodded curtly and walked back to his desk, and the class heaved a collective sigh of relief.
Karakura High School, 11:45 a.m.
Byakuya trudged back wearily to the staffroom, briefcase in hand. Navigating the lunch-hour rush of students, his mind replayed the events of this morning.
The final fifteen minutes went by mercifully quick. He just had time to cover the finer points of the syllabus for the academic year. The students were surprisingly well-behaved, yet between pauses, he noticed that quite a few of them were glancing over to where Ichigo and Renji sat stiffly, glowering at the professor. Their glares did not bother him as much as the expressions on the faces of their classmates. There was that athletic girl, Tatsuki, as well as the pretty girl who had introduced herself as Orihime. There was Asano, and also...what was his name...Mizuiro. Finally, there was the hulking student who had introduced himself as Sado. The looks they all gave were identical ones of sympathy, commiseration even.
He came to a stop as the bell rang. "Class dismissed." The students streamed out as he placed his papers in his briefcase; Abarai and Kurosaki stalked out without a backward glance, followed by the same classmates who had sympathised with them. Byakuya paused as he noted this. So they're not just trouble makers, but ringleaders too. Winning their respect became all the more crucial.
In Class 17-B, Professor Kuchiki came face to face with the second group of delinquents, the most notable of which was a brash, cocky, shaven-headed loudmouth named Ikkaku Madarame. Introductions had gone smoothly enough barring that suggestive wink by Natsui Mahana, which Byakuya wisely ignored. The trouble began when he started teaching.
"Since I have a double period with you today, we shall get a head start on your lessons. Take your textbooks and open the first chapter, "Hamlet", written by William Shakespeare. Now, Shakespeare was an English playwright who lived in London during the reign of...what is it, Madarame?"
Ikkaku stood. "Professor, you said the guy's name was Shakespeare?"
"That is correct."
A grin spread across his face. "Kinky. Someone should call me Ikkaku Shakespeare."
Everyone stared at him.
He went on ,"I mean, the guy must have been pretty good at shaking his spear, right?"
The class exploded in laughter. Byakuya took a deep breath and waited till they settled. Then he looked squarely at Ikkaku. "You're wrong. 'Shakespeare', with minor variations, was a common name in the middle-west region of England where he was born. It is neither a nickname, nor 'kinky' as you put it, but a respectable family name."
Ikkaku's eyes showed a slight flicker of annoyance, presumably at his failure to shock Byakuya, but he didn't respond. The professor continued, "Moving on, Shakespeare lived during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, also known as 'the Virgin Queen'...yes, Ayasegawa?"
Yumichika Ayasegawa, slender and effeminate, asked with an arched eyebrow:"Why was she called the 'Virgin Queen'?"
"I was coming to that. She was thus titled, because despite several courtships, she remained single all her life."
Yumichika tossed his head."Hah! I'm more of a virgin queen than she is!"
Once again, the students burst out laughing, louder than before. They were used to this constant baiting of the new teacher; it was an honoured ritual for their class, a fine art and an enjoyable sport for their ringleaders. Whether it was embarrassment or anger, the results were always hilarious.
Byakuya did a slow mental count from one to ten as he tried to suppress his irritation. To attack him personally was one thing, but to slander an author he revered...thou shalt not murder your student.
He went on as though Yumichika had not spoken. "During her reign at the time of the 16th century, arts, literature and drama flourished, leading to the rise of many notable authors and poets, including Shakespeare himself..."
It got even worse when he assigned the parts in the play. The part of Hamlet was given to Yamada Hanatarou, who despite his initial stammer, proved to be a confident, fluent reader. He would have done quite well if not for Ikkaku, who kept up a constant stream of crude jokes, puns, one-liners and background commentary, with Yumichika inserting some choice wit of his own. Professor Kuchiki did his damnedest to ignore them. He knew what they were after; losing his temper would only focus the attention on them and lead to a fight they were spoiling for. He was determined not to give them that satisfaction.
By the time they reached the scene where Hamlet contemplated suicide, the atmosphere was ruined, his patience was strained to breaking point and Hanatarou was a nervous wreck.
"T-to be o-or not t-to be, that's the q-question,
Whether 'tis n-nobler in the mind to s-suffer
the s-slings and arrows of outrageous f-fortune,
or to take arms against a sea of t-troubles,
A-and by o-opposing end them: to die, to sleep-"
"Just die and put us out of our misery, you fart," mumbled Ikkaku.
Hanatarou turned beet-red. The bell rang just then; salvation.
Byakuya pinched the bridge of his nose; he could feel a headache coming on and desperately needed a cup of coffee. He would have to formulate a strategy to deal with them; allowing his class to be disrupted, day after day, was simply not acceptable.
He paused a few feet away from the staffroom. Entering it would mean another round of introductions and conversation with his colleagues, and he was not in the mood for that, not now. He needed time alone, time to think. Just as he was about to retreat, he heard a loud voice from behind: "Oi! New teacher!"
His heart sank. Dammit.
He slowly turned and watched the man approaching him. He had blonde hair styled into a sharp bob, and was dressed in a neon orange shirt that hurt Byakuya's eyes, black tie, black pants and a green beret. More unnerving than his shirt however, was his ear-splitting grin which revealed a set of large white teeth.
"Shinji Hirako, art and crafts teacher," stated the man cheerfully as he grabbed and shook his unresponsive hand. "You're that fancy new Lit teacher, right? Did ya have a good day?" He cackled and slung an arm around Byakuya's shoulders; oblivious to his stiff resistance, he half-dragged, half-pushed him into the staffroom. "C'mon and join us. Let's exchange war stories."
Author's Note: I couldn't help it, I had to depict Byakuya with short hair, he pleased me very much indeed:-D Also, I have no idea what English textbooks look like in a Japanese school; one of the few times that Google failed me. Read, review, tell me what you liked, what you didn't like and I'll try to improve. Flamers and trolls will be ignored like Ikkaku.