Takes place sometime during Chapter 227, The Swordless Soldier.
Note: An in-between look because I'm not satisfied with the next chapter yet but wanted to post something (and wanted to fit certain scenes in but wasn't sure how to incorporate them, heh). Also I wanted to delve into another character a little more because he'll show up again later and I really need the practice. Fo' reals.
Interlude: In the Meantime...
"I'm lookin' fer a pet."
The expectant look on the volunteer's face dissolved slowly as the silence between them stretched from seconds into a full minute and a half. She had to tilt her head back to look this man – or rather, boy, as his uniform suggested – in the face, and in so doing realized that he was really quite scary-looking.
"S'fer my niece. She likes... furry... things." He squared his shoulders a bit. Squinted nastily at her. He could hear Hyata behind him, picking his nose. "Furry things n' cute shit. Got anythin' like that?"
Apparently they did, because the girl motioned for him to follow her. He slumped along in the most unpleasant way he could manage without looking as if he were embarrassed, glaring at Hyata when he tried to follow. This is a man's job, the scowl said, now back off. A tiny snort nearly escaped him at the tremors he could see racing through the girl's shoulders, but he managed to hold it in.
This wasn't Hyata's business so he could just go fuck himself off.
She showed him the gerbils. He wasn't impressed.
She showed him the baby birds. He wasn't impressed.
She showed him the ferrets and a bunch of other weird little furry things that would fall into the 'cute' category. He still wasn't impressed.
Then she showed him the kittens, and he found himself wishing that he'd come to get a pet for himself instead of his niece. Eventually he decided he wanted to see everything the shelter had, regardless of whether it was cute or not, because he damn well felt like looking and it was hard to gauge how cute something was without enough comparison material.
So it was that as they were entering the kennels where the older dogs were kept, he ran into someone he hadn't been expecting to see – literally. After a brief confusion over whether someone had really just bounced off his chest or not, he focused his eyes down – and down more, to where he saw Asano Keigo sprawled on his ass on the floor.
"Asano."
The boy's head shot up, eyes widening to an impossibly huge size. "Ōshima!"
Ōshima Reiichi allowed himself to smirk. He leaned down in the most ominous fashion he could fathom, one big fist lashing out to catch the front of Asano's shirt. "'Sup, faggot?" he said, and with that rude query hanging in the air, he none-too-gently hauled the brunet up into the air.
Reiichi swallowed a laugh at both Asano and the girl's expense when, instead of throwing Asano like a rag doll (as they likely expected him to do), he set the other teen back on his feet. It hadn't been a nice journey from the floor to standing upright again, so nobody was surprised when Keigo stumbled a bit. His nose ring gleamed briefly as they eyed each other, before an idea struck him.
"You can go," Reiichi told the girl, without looking away from Keigo. He jabbed one thick finger at the brunet. "He's gonna show me the rest. If'n I find somethin', I'll ring out with you."
She hesitated, but scurried away when he glared, only casting a sympathetic look at Keigo over her shoulder as she disappeared. When he was sure she was gone, Reiichi turned back to the task at hand – catching sight of the dog at Keigo's feet, which seemed to be observing the proceedings with a kind of bored disinterest. He shrugged mentally. Turned back to Keigo.
"Rina's turnin' eleven," he said without preamble.
Keigo turned his face away. Fiddled with the dog leash. "Yeah." He said eventually.
"She wants somethin' cute n' fuzzy. Neesan figures she's old enough t'look after a pet."
A small sigh.
He pointed. "The hell kinda dog is that, anyway?"
"Some kind of mutt," said Keigo, and with that he began to lead Ōshima back into the kennel, where he started to explain stuff about each dog that the taller teen wouldn't have known – and the girl wouldn't have known, either, he thought. He didn't want to go home with something that would bite his niece's face off.
After a while, Keigo ventured to say, "How is Rina-chan doing?"
"S'fine." Reiichi grunted, for a moment seeming in conflict with himself. Then he said, "She misses ya."
The brunet was silent at this, his face pensive. Reiichi glared at him, then glared at the dog he was still walking around with. It was small enough, fuzzy and... even kinda cute. Kinda lop-eared and dumb-looking. But it wasn't annoyingly excitable and seemed to obey commands well enough.
"S'that one good?" he demanded.
"He's on the chopping block for Sunday."
Ōshima considered this. "But is he any good?"
"Yeah."
Keigo yelped as the leash was suddenly ripped from his hands, Ōshima's face a malevolent cloud descending over his own. "I'm takin' it. Got a problem wi'that?"
Shaking his head, the brunet watched, wide-eyed as the bleach-blond sneered and stomped towards the exit. With his hand on the doorknob he paused, casting a dirty look back over his shoulder. "I'll tell 'er you said hi," he snarled. The door slammed shut behind him.
Filling out the adoption papers and paying the required fees, Ōshima ignored Hyata's obnoxious chortling but felt himself drawn back to his encounter with Asano. He didn't really hate the kid. He actually got far less satisfaction out of beating him up than anyone would have thought. The problem came down to Reiichi's inability to come to terms with the fact that Keigo had become friends with Kojima all those years ago.
Until Kojima, Asano had been Reiichi's friend.
He also happened to be the only friend Rina had ever genuinely liked, and possibly the only guy Reiichi would ever trust around her. He'd rather cut off his own dick than leave her alone with Hyata or the other goons. How often did that crazy Mizuho babysit the bunch of them? Shit, they used to have so much fun back then...
Before Kojima came along and ruined it with his hoity-toity rich-boy shit and 'woe is me my mommy is never around' spiel – as if nobody else in the world lacked a mother figure, just him. And what the fuck, Asano just fell for it! And for what – he wasn't blind, even he could see the brat spent more time fawning over Kurosaki than paying attention to the 'friend' he'd had in his pocket for ages!
But whatever, not like it's any of his business now. Asano made his choice.
... but that didn't mean Ōshima had to like it.
Scowling as he turned to leave, Ōshima heard Hyata loose a surprise snort and quickly realized he had spotted Asano coming out of the kennel. His scowl deepened when Hyata began cracking his knuckles. The dog at his feet let out a low growl.
"Leave 'im," he directed, shocking the other boy.
"But—"
"Ya heard me, didn't ya?" Ōshima snarled.
As they left, he glanced back once to see Asano staring after him, his face unreadable.
Ch. Little fucker.
When dealing with shinigami, one had to expect the unexpected.
Keigo had, for the most part, learned to take certain peculiarities in stride. Thus, even though he never heard the tread of their feet or the brush of cloth as they crossed the threshold and into his home, the teen no longer leaped out of his skin whenever Ikkaku or Yumichika suddenly appeared.
Part of that may have been because both shinigami learned, with surprising speed, to announce themselves as they entered the home, calling out until they received an answer from whomever was inside. Having been given a spare key by an overly-joyous Mizuho, with permission to come and go as they pleased, Yumichika and Ikkaku nevertheless realized quickly that they were going to have to change certain habits if they wanted to remain alive in the Asano household for any length of time.
Ikkaku was the unfortunate soul to discover this first-hand. He did it by approaching Keigo unaware as he helped his mother prepare supper.
Both mother and son had been absorbed in their activity, and Ikkaku's footsteps were naturally silent. So by the time his presence was noticed, he was less than three feet from Keigo's turned back.
Ikkaku hadn't meant to scare them. He had, in fact, been opening his mouth to say something – he couldn't remember what it was, maybe to ask what they were making – and the thought that they weren't aware of him hadn't even crossed his mind. After all, he was used to being around people with heightened senses; for just one moment he forgot that humans weren't as quick on the uptake as his fellow eleventh soldiers.
Unfortunately for him, what the Asano family seemed to lack, they made up for in other ways. Ikkaku could never really describe it if prompted – and he was, once Matsumoto and Hitsugaya next saw him. Either way, the end result was the same: the brat's mom had struck him down with all the speed and grace of a raging viper, pinning him to the linoleum as he lay prone, gasping and mouth agape with shock.
The only thing that prevented him from moving once he regained himself was the large, sharp blade in Kazue's hand as she pressed it dangerously against his Adam's apple.
Yumichika thought the entire thing to be hilarious, of course. Maybe it should have been, but then, he wasn't the one on the floor staring up into the eyes of that woman as her son wrested the knife out of her hand and pulled her away. Ikkaku hadn't moved a muscle until the creepy glint in Kazue's eye snuffed out, replaced by one of embarrassment and horror. Apologizing profusely for the mistake, her face as red as a tomato, Ikkaku had to wonder just what the fuck he'd gotten himself into when he asked to board with this family.
At least he now knew for sure why Mizuho was the way she was.
Come to think of it, Ikkaku also had to admit that he was extremely grateful Kazue hadn't been home that afternoon, when Matsumoto decided to stop by for a surprise visit. She obviously wasn't taking the Mom Threat seriously enough for his comfort.
Good thing she left, he thought as he stepped into the main hall and called out.
He knew the kid was home; he could feel Keigo's spirit pressure (as well as Mizuho, Yumi and Kazue's) from somewhere in the apartment. But when the boy didn't answer, Ikkaku frowned.
"Oi, brat!"
Somebody – Keigo, it would have been him – began to swear profusely. A small crash followed it, as well as more swearing. Ikkaku tracked it down to the guest bedroom, where he found Keigo sitting amongst what looked like a partially-made crib.
"Stupid thing..." the teen growled.
"Problem?" Ikkaku smirked, casually folding his arms over his chest and leaning into the door frame with an air of superiority. His smirk widened when Keigo looked up at him with a decidedly nasty glare.
"Maybe. These instructions are stupid!"
"Or maybe you shouldn't try'n assemble shit after a round with Matsumoto." Ikkaku felt a laugh bubbling up at the look on Keigo's face. "Seriously kid, you expectin' to get that thing together with one good arm? Ch'. Must be dumber than I thought you were."
"It's fine," the brunet insisted, but he could see that Ikkaku didn't believe it. Finally he sighed, and put the ratchet in his other hand down with a small clatter. He rubbed his shoulder subconsciously. "Or not," he amended. "Whatever."
"Still buggin' ya, huh."
"Hn?"
Ikakku pointed. "Your shoulder. Still buggin' you, ain't it?"
"It's not so bad," said Keigo. He looked around himself, eyeing the crib parts with a small amount of disdain. "Mom tends to exaggerate things, you know? The way she went on you'd think Ōshima ripped it off. Don't worry. I've had worse."
"I ain't." The shinigami grunted. S'long as yer mom don't hear about you an' Matsumoto, anyway, he thought to himself. Then, "What's this shit, then? Somebody get knocked up?"
He almost had to take a step back at the sheer foulness in the teen's face at that. "If by 'somebody' you mean my mother, then yes. You could say that."
"Well, who else is there?" Ikkaku snapped, realizing that he had somehow managed to cross the kid's line of tolerance but not entirely sure how. And what the hell, the woman was pregnant?
"Kill anything horrible today, Ikkaku-san?" Keigo asked instead, his voice sharp. He retrieved the ratchet, resuming work on the crib.
"Nah." The kid was giving him a way out, so he took it. "Your freaky sister dragged me to that weird shopping district."
"The mall," said Keigo, his tone still cool but losing its edge. "Yeah. She goes there a lot. She only takes me when she says she's feeling... generous." When he looked up again, there was a funny little quirk to his mouth that Ikkaku was beginning to recognize. He grinned back, showing all of his teeth.
"That so?"
"Aa. There's stuff in the back of my closet that hasn't seen the light of day since they left the rack," the teen told him. "I thought the moths would have won by now, but I might have to resort to matches."
With a snort of amusement, Ikkaku left the doorway and padded into the room. He sat down amidst the crib pieces, then picked up the instructions. "I can't figure how anyone manages to fuck in this world, kid. Pants like that are deadly."
Keigo smiled, his eyes taking on a devilish glint. "Maybe you're just too much of a man for our pants, Ikkaku-san."
"Shut it, brat." But in spite of his harsh words, Ikkaku's grin widened. Keigo had, after all, wisely left out any comments about the shirts his sister was foisting on the older man.
The two worked quietly for some time, until eventually, Yumichika joined them. They nearly booted Keigo from the room entirely after sharing some kind of bizarre (to him, anyway) unspoken conversation upon which they came to some apparent (to them, not Keigo) agreement. So the teen sat and watched as the two men worked on the crib, trying not to comment each time they got into an argument.
When Keigo excused himself briefly, Yumichika took the sudden privacy as an opportunity to give his friend a calculating stare. "Well!" he chirped, "This is certainly a surprise."
"I'm earning my damn keep, an' you better shut the hell up."
Yumi raised a delicate brow, "You spent half the day with that woman, I'd say you did your part already."
Ikkaku shook the ratchet at him threateningly. "So what? If I hadn't, he'd be whinin' and moanin' all night about this damned thing. And you didn't see him trying to do it himself. Freakin' pitiful."
His partner sniffed. "What would the Captain say? I think you've got a soft spot in that cold, dark heart of yours for these humans."
"I told you: shut yer hole."
Keigo scurried into the room before any response could be made, kicking the door shut behind him with an air of secrecy that caused both men to pause. He cast them an embarrassed smile, quickly made his way over and set down the tray in his arms.
"Look, I have to go help neechan with supper," he told them. "Mom wanted me to give you this, for helping with the crib and... stuff. She didn't say. Anyway, Dad won't be home for about an hour, but we'll call you if we're done before then." He looked around again, before turning back with a threatening expression. "And Mom wanted me to tell you that my father had better not catch wind of this, or she'll ruin your lives forever. It's his best stock."
He was gone as quickly as he came, leaving the two shinigami to stare after him, stupefied. Ikkaku was the first to sip from the presented cup, his eyes widening in shock. "Damn!"
"Liquor," said Yumichika, mildly. "It's liquor."
"Oh, hell yes!" Ikkaku took a swig, before taking the bottle from the tray and pouring more sake into his cup. He eyed Yumichika, who looked completely comfortable now. "Goin' soft, am I?"
"Perhaps," said Yumi, "They aren't so terrible."
Just in time for Christmas. Have a happy one and stuff. :D
Comments, crits, etc. welcome and all that jazz.
