"Your time will come,
If you wait for it,
If you wait for it.
It's hard, believe me, I've tried."
- "Amsterdam" by Imagine Dragons
Chapter Three: If You Wait For It
The Shinigami's journey to the Soul Society was much nicer. I merely walked down a narrow stone passageway, through another rice paper screen, and down into an office, which was shrouded in darkness because of the late hour. But I knew what it looked like. I'd been to offices like these before. It was an upper Division office, one for the Captain and Vice Captain. There were two opposing desks, a window behind them, some furniture like a table and couch further out in the room, and off to the side was a set of rice paper screens leading out to a porch that overlooked a space, of grass and some trees in this case. Judging by that and the number over the entrance door, these were the tenth division offices, which made sense: Matsumoto Rangiku had sent us here.
My power stretched and relaxed into the atmosphere of the Soul Society, suddenly more at ease. An unseen tension I hadn't been aware I possessed leaked out from my shoulders.
The others followed in after me, and the door - my last link to the living world for a while - disappeared. Ikkaku stretched and yawned. "I'm going to bed," he said. "Following this idiot around is exhausting."
His intended insult backfired because it reminded me of something. "Hey, where will I be staying? You all have barracks or private houses in the Seireitei to go to, right? What, do you want me to sleep on the couch?" I was actually serious; I shoved my thumb behind me. I'd slept in weirder places and had learned how to fall asleep pretty much anywhere.
Rukia seemed to think of something and turned to her brother. "Nii-sama, could we -?" I took it she meant my staying at the Kuchiki manor, a sprawling set of grounds with huge, traditional-looking buildings set around it. I had never actually seen the inside.
Byakuya was as usual hard to read. "For someone to show up unannounced and uninvited would be -" He paused.
I took it as one of those weird tradition things. "It's fine. Like I said. Couch."
"You cannot sleep on the couch when there's no one else around." That came from Hitsugaya Toshiro.
"Why not?" Rangiku asked. "I do it all the time."
Toshiro seemed exasperated. "You're the Vice Captain," he pointed out, a little annoyed. He looked me up and down for a moment. "... You can sleep on a pallet in my quarters," he said at last, and it was hard to tell what he was feeling.
"... Thanks," I said slowly, though somehow I had an intuition that this was not a friendly request. Like with my not being able to say goodbye to Rukia privately that short time ago, it seemed more like a trust issue.
The two of us passed through the wooden halls and past the doors of what had to be the lower offices. The corridors were lit with what looked like oil lamps in the dimness, throwing shadows on the walls. We passed out of this building and went down a long walkway with a roof above, the sides bare to reveal a quiet green grounds.
I glanced over at the boy walking beside me. He was very young; his cloak shorter than the other Captains' and yet still reaching his ankles, his sword strapped to his back instead of at his side, and he barely looked older than thirteen. But there was something about him that seemed very expressionless and adult. I remembered Rukia telling me that Hitsugaya Toshiro, like Ise Nanao, had started being a Shinigami at a very young age. I wondered if that was why they both seemed so... stiff.
"Can I help you with something?"
I was startled. "What?"
"You were staring," said Toshiro dryly.
"Oh." That was a little embarrassing. But actually, I did have something worth asking. "Umm... Toshiro?"
"It's Hitsugaya-taicho," he corrected me, a bit annoyed again. "Just because I am young, that doesn't mean I'm not still a Captain."
"I wasn't trying to imply that. I just... call everyone by their first name?" Was he always this easily offended?
"Hm. Nevertheless."
I tried to push on, a little unsure. "Anyway... What's going to happen to me now?"
"Now, the Captain Commander and the newly elected Central 46 will be informed of your presence and they will decide what to do with you," said Toshiro simply.
"So a bunch of old guys are going to sit around and talk about me?"
For the first time, Toshiro smirked, seeming slightly amused. "Essentially," he confirmed.
I wasn't sure I liked that. "Well, that sounds... surprisingly ominous."
He threw me a sharp sideways glance. "You don't trust them?" And then the amused boy was gone and there was a distrustful captain again. Yup, I'd been right. Another Mizuiro.
"I don't know them," I pointed out, irritated. "Why on earth would I trust them?" I didn't put my faith in people I couldn't look in the eye. It was a personal policy of mine.
Then it was time for silence as we walked into another building and through the barracks hallways. I couldn't tell what Hitsugaya-taicho thought of my answer, but he probably distrusted me even more now. Great.
The Captain's quarters were small and neat, with a bed, a bedside stand with a basin of water, a small attached bathroom, and a bookcase by the door. Exhaustion was starting to set in. Trying to stave it off, I splashed some water on my face by the basin and then went over to look at the spines of the books.
"Over here." I looked around. He'd laid a pallet with a blanket out for me in a far corner of the room. I walked over. "Stay there," he commanded, sort of like I was a dog, and then he turned around to get himself ready.
"Can I look at the boo -?"
"No." The reply was flat, terse, irritated.
I sighed as I watched him. Never one to beat around the bush, I finally demanded in growing annoyance, "Hey... do you have a problem with me?"
There was a pause. Stiffly, he said, "I apologize if I gave you that impression."
Remembering the angry boy before my father, I said boldly, "Bullshit. I think you're a prickly little asshole and you've got a problem with me." If he did have one, he should tell me about it so I could do something about it.
Hitsugaya whirled around, glaring; the temperature dropped about ten degrees. "Don't insult me and I'm not little!"
I raised an eyebrow, waiting.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. "I... apologize," he admitted at last, and looked away. "I don't trust you. I have no reason to trust you. You stole Kuchiki Rukia's powers for unknown reasons, invaded the Seireitei and took out half of the Eleventh division, died against a common Hollow, and after running you evaded capture or tracking from the Shinigami for several hours. To trust you would not make sense. It's nothing personal."
"I'm also my father's son," I gathered.
He watched me sideways for a moment. "Captain Shiba acted like an idiot, but he was a good Captain," Toshiro said at last. "Or he would have been, had he not left."
"And no one knows why." Not even me. "So... I'm a curiosity," I guessed. "I thought so. That's why I kept the badge."
Toshiro's eyes widened slightly; he looked at me fully, discerningly. "You knew it was a -?"
"Tracker?" I smiled, half a smirk. "Yeah, I kind of figured."
Toshiro studied me in silence as if I were some strange foreign species.
"You may give it back tomorrow," he said, and it sounded like an admittance.
I was woken the next morning by a pillow being thrown at my face. I started and sat my head up, wiping away the drool quickly, to find Hitsugaya Toshiro glaring at me flatly. He seemed even grumpier early in the morning. Amusingly, there was no discernible difference made to his hair.
"Get up," he said, and walked away.
I did some basic hygiene stuff, but there was only so much I could do, in my state. I still had my little pack of things with me, but they did not include clothes; I hadn't seen the point in not dressing like everybody else. All I had for now was my blood stained Shinigami uniform. Zangetsu was pointed eerily upward by my bedside; I took him and tied him to my back.
"Ready," I said.
I was led through the sparse white Shinigami section of Seireitei to the building that housed the meeting hall. I started trying to memorize directions on my way over; if I was going to be staying here for a while, I couldn't be wandering around like an idiot all the time. At the steps to the meeting hall building, Hitsugaya Toshiro stayed and I continued upward, feeling very alone, through the door, down a long gleaming hallway with windows on one side, to the set of double doors on the other.
I knocked and went through them when bidden to do so. The meeting hall was both long and tall; I'd hoped it was just me and Yamamoto, but I suddenly rescinded that hope when I saw that actually was all it was, in that big space. I had to walk all the way down the hall to him, my footsteps echoing.
Trying not to be nervous or pissed off, I knelt reluctantly.
He stood there above me, with his long grey beard and his aged face, his narrow eyes assessing. "Sir," I said, instead of calling him -dono.
"Shiba Ichigo..."
Twitching, I felt like Captain Hitsugaya for a moment. "Kurosaki," I said, annoyed. "Kurosaki Ichigo."
"Hmph. Your father is a traitor," Yamamoto intoned, like this was some great and certain piece of wisdom.
I gritted my teeth. "My father is a good man."
"... Perhaps," Yamamoto allowed at last. Maybe it was a big thing for him, to admit a person could be both. "So you are set to become a Shinigami -"
"In Karakura, I hope." No use in not putting a good word in, but Yamamoto snapped, annoyed.
"Don't interrupt! Where you are stationed is no concern of mine. Your request has been processed," he added loftily.
I really didn't like this. At all. In fact, I hadn't felt welcome or comfortable since I'd gotten here.
"Do you have something to say?" Yamamoto asked, calmly, but there was something heavy and dark behind the words.
As a matter of fact, I did. "Yes, sir," I returned, and it was in that moment that I think we both knew he and I were never really going to get along. Yamamoto took in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. Quickly, while I could still get the words out: "I'll tell you the same thing I told Kuchiki Rukia. I'll only do this until I feel I have no reason to do it anymore. I think that's fair."
"Are you threatening to desert, as your father did?!" Yamamoto's eyes widened slightly, and it was entirely intimidating; all of a sudden, his voice boomed from the walls.
"I'd do anything, if I felt I should," I said, trying not to sound like too much of an idealist.
"I do not feel you're in any place to be making ultimatums, boy," Yamamoto emphasized, and I was reminded that this man had been around for centuries. As in, multiple.
"I just felt I should be honest," I said sarcastically before I could stop myself. "You know what they say, honesty's the best policy. Your former captains could have done with a little more of that."
Yamamoto then did something surprising; he just looked at me for a moment. I'd expected anger. "I cannot tell," the Captain Commander said at last, "if you have spunk or if you are just insane."
"I'm both," I assured him. "So where will I be assigned?"
And then Yamamoto chuckled. "You're getting a bit ahead of yourself," he said, and I was confused. Almost dreading. "You see, the council has spoken. On paper, no one can be a Shinigami without having graduated from the Shinigami training school, Shino Academy. Therefore, that is where you will be assigned first.
I half stood up before I could stop myself. "I'm really being sent back to school because of a bureaucratic technicality?" I asked disbelievingly.
"Is there a problem?" The words were almost menacing, which apparently was possible even when a person was extremely calm.
"Well, I just - I've already done it all!"
"Not all of it, surely. There must be some things you missed?" I thought of kidou. Control. Stealth. And then I shut the hell up. "Take the time to focus on that. A representative from the Academy will be waiting outside to take you there; you are dismissed." Yamamoto waved a hand.
I could have pitched a fit, but some newer, stabler voice in the back of my head told me not to. Maybe he has a point, the voice said.
I still wasn't sure I liked that little voice.
The boy who was waiting outside for me was dressed in what had to be the school uniform, a blue and white version of the Shinigami's uniform with a circle on the chest. Could have been worse. At least I wouldn't look completely retarded.
"I'm the head of the class and I'm here to lead you to the school!" he said with a big, cheerful smile, stepping forward. So he was a goodie two shoes. Great. Not that I could complain, I supposed, I'd been one of the highest in the class back at home too.
"Yeah, the old man told me," I said casually, pointing back over my shoulder, and the boy choked. "Oh, sorry. Am I not supposed to call him that?" Somehow, I couldn't be too concerned.
The boy laughed nervously and scooted a little farther away from me.
As we walked across to the grounds, he told me his name was Rikaru, and followed that up with a bunch of insistent, eager questions. Had I really stolen my powers? Had I really defeated all those people? Why had I saved Kuchiki Rukia? He was kind of nosy. I hoped this much interest wasn't going to be the norm.
"Hey, aren't I supposed to be the one who's asking the questions?" I asked at last.
Rikaru recovered himself. "W-well, yes, I just thought - I mean, this is all a formality for you, yes?"
"I guess..." I still couldn't completely tell, though. I frowned in thought.
"You will probably get through straight away," said Rikaru, nodding. "Oh." He paused. "Can you read and write?"
I stared at him. "Yeah..."
"Oh, good," he said relieved. "Because some people who have to take those classes really struggle with that."
The campus was wide and green, scattered with tall buildings with pointed, tiled eaves. I was led into one, down a hallway and into a room where an official-looking blonde woman sat across from me at a desk. She gave no reaction when I sat down across from her, something I was, at least, grateful for.
"Let's get started, then," she said, and she reached down underneath the desk and took out some weird sort of instrument that had to have come from the twelfth division. It looked like one of those old fashioned alcohol thermometers, but the liquid was green and attached to it were two wires with clips on the ends.
"What the hell is that?" I asked politely, deciding to voice my thoughts.
The woman looked up in surprise. "You... weren't told why you were coming here?"
"Nope. No fucking idea." She gave me an odd look. Then she sighed and rolled her eyes.
"Useless," I thought I heard her mutter.
"Curious," I returned. "So he was kind of on the wrong end of the conversation."
"So I imagine," she returned, and took a deep breath. "Okay, so this is the entrance exam. You just have to be tested for sufficient reiatsu to enter the school. That's what this device does."
"I have to be tested? I mean, you can't...?" I began awkwardly. I wasn't sure how to tell her that most people I knew told me my reiatsu signature was about as subtle as an elephant.
"We are all aware that you have enough reiatsu to become a Shinigami, Kurosaki-san," the woman said dryly. "This is just a formality."
I debated for a moment. "... Thanks," I said at last.
Her eyes widened slightly. "For what?" Ah, the innocent look. How cute.
"For calling me by my actual surname," I said wryly.
"You did not grow up here. You are not one of us. To call you as such would make no sense," she said simply, blunt and businesslike. I decided I liked her, despite the fact that she'd just confirmed for me what everyone else seemed to be thinking.
I didn't belong here. Yeah, I was kind of getting that aura.
So at her request, I rolled down my sleeve, put out my arm, and she pinched my skin between the clips. Then she watched the thermometer thingie. "I assume you know how to move your reiatsu," she said, and didn't wait for me to respond. "Channel some in the direction of your arm."
I decided to try to make it really small. I tentatively pulled a little bit away from my soul world, the center inside my chest. I could feel both the souls in there scorn in amusement what I was trying to do, each in their different ways, but I pointedly ignored them. I fed the little bit of reiatsu into my arm.
The liquid shot all the way up through the top of the thermometer, the glass shattered and went everywhere, and smoking green liquid spilled all over the desk top. The blonde woman had jumped back and stared down at the ruins of the measurer, bewildered.
There was a moment of silence.
"... So," I said with a straight face, "does that mean I'm in?"
The woman claimed she had never had that happen before (well, wasn't I special then?) and she assigned me to class one. Apparently, people were put in tiered classes based on the amount of force their soul had, and class one was the highest I could go.
I was led from there to an office in a different building, the one of my class leader and advisor, Onabara-sensei. The first time I saw Onabara-sensei, I nearly laughed. Nearly. It was a close thing. Imagine a big dirt hill leading out to a flat cliff at the top. Imagine a coconut perched on top of that hill.
That was what my advisor looked like.
He handed me a set of uniforms and course materials; he then forced me to stand at attention and expressionless before him. I was not endeared.
He stood there before me, looking me over stiffly, stern. A permanent scowl seemed to be etched upon his features. In my mind, I drew a frowny face on the coconut, and holy shit laughing now would be really bad. "Is something funny, cadet?" Onabara-sensei asked in a way that seemed vaguely menacing.
"No, sir," I insisted hurriedly. "I'm just so full of joy to be attending your fine institution."
So, I'll give this to him: his head may have been tiny, but he understood sarcasm. I got a glare. "Many people are excited to have you be here," he said. "I think you're dangerous. I don't like the looks of you. It is my and the other teachers' job to change that and make you into a dutiful Shinigami."
Gag. "I'll keep that in mind, sir," I said instead of insulting him. See? I was being good.
"See that you do," said Onabara-sensei, still eyeing me suspiciously. "... Go."
Among my materials had been a key, a dorm room number, and a form to fill out to sign up for classes. I was a little late, apparently; most students had already arrived. Outside, I could see some wandering around or sitting underneath trees in the faint sunlight, mostly older students in their school uniforms. The age range was bizarre; some looked in their thirties, but I swear one kid was either a serious midget or not more than five. Take your pick.
So, the first thing I did was get lost trying to find my dorm, quite determinedly and in splendid fashion. I could see it coming as it happened. And then there I was, wandering down some random street with something that looked vaguely like a school building on one side and an official building for the Fourth Division on the other. Hadn't these people ever heard of road signs?
I stopped a couple of passing female Shinigami: looked about fourteen, had probably been around for at least a hundred years. You know, the basics. They stared at me in confusion for a moment - Shinigami uniform, school uniforms in hand, traveling pack over my shoulder, gigantic fucking zanpakutoh - and then they shied away and giggled when they realized who I was. So at least that was vaguely normal and teenage girl ish, even if it did seem retarded.
"Look," I sighed, annoyed, "I just completed the annual ritual of Getting Lost on the First Day of School and I think I'm allowed to find where I'm supposed to live now. Can you tell me where... this dormitory is?" I held up the piece of paper with the dorm, level, and number.
"Yeah, we can help you," one girl said eagerly, and the other bent forward to look at the piece of paper.
"It's that way," she pointed, "and then that way."
"Okay... thanks," I said, and as I walked off, I could hear them giggling as they stared after me again. Usually I'd wonder if I had toilet paper stuck to my shoe or something. But I remembered that one blonde chick saying people were really excited I was here, for some odd reason. Apparently that manifested itself in nonsensical giggling.
I kept my goal in my mind: I just had to get through this and find my way back to Karakura. I'd deal with the minor little detail that I was dead from there. Urahara was creative: surely he could create me a fake gigai and identity? I just had to get there. I just had to get there.
When I thought of my home, I didn't feel as alone. It was stupid, but it was also true.
I went down the long walkways, turned, squinted dumbly at signs a lot, and eventually I found my dormitory, going up the building's stairs and finding the correct room number. Taking a deep breath, I knocked. There was a bustling on the other side, and then the door opened and looking around the door from the other side with big, hesitant eyes was a boy with shaggy, dark hair. I figured he was my roommate.
"Ichigo," I said directly, holding out a hand and mentally daring him to be an asshole and not take it.
"... Atsushi," he said after a moment, and he shook my hand. Then he opened the door wider to let me in. I'd always had a personal space thing, but I learned pretty quickly I wouldn't get much in here. The room was tiny, with two beds set low to the floor taking up most of the space. Letting out a breath, I sat down slowly on the bed, and then began to take off all the shit I had hanging off of me.
"Sorry about coming in late," I said casually, looking sideways at Atsushi, who was standing in a corner and watching me hesitantly.
"Oh, um... it's okay." He looked away, seeming nervous. I was not sure why.
"Hey, uh - don't worry about it," I said at last, guessing that he had an issue with my reputation, and he looked over at me in surprise. "To you, I'm just some asshole." It was going to be embarrassing if that didn't turn out to be the real problem, but Atsushi smiled fakely in response.
"Uh, yes," he said. "Alright." He didn't seem like he believed me.
Then there was a loud knock on the door. "Hey," a male voice called out on the other side, "you coming?" I could hear the chatter of several people leaking through the doorway.
"I'm coming!" Atsushi called, more energetically, and I'd half stood up as if to go with them, but Atsushi gave me one hesitant glance and then slipped out the door, shutting it quickly behind him.
I glared at the door, unusually bothered. But this reminded me of something: when I'd started attending middle school more in my last year, I hadn't expected to make any friends. Tons of people who used to know me when I was a kid had flat-out rejected anything to do with me. And had I given a shit? No. I'd just kept on being me.
Maybe it was time for a little more of that again. I had a feeling I was even more widely known now than before.
It took a few days, but I signed up for classes and sure enough, just after that school started. By that point, I'd gotten semi-used to being in the new uniforms, and to the formal language and the people around me. Don't get me wrong, it was all still kind of weird, but the trick was to just kind of... relax into the weirdness and float along, I guess.
Never mind, that just sounds strange. Just take me at my word: I didn't fit in, but I looked like I fit in and I didn't let it bother me.
I'd missed the entrance ceremony because I'd been too busy being alive and all - yeah, like I cried a big bucket of tears over that - so classes began right away. I got a lot of stares. A lot of them. And some whispering. Some classmates wanted to introduce themselves right away, others stayed away but stared from afar. It didn't help that my zanapkutoh's shikai was gigantic, advertising the fact that I already had one. I didn't want it sitting upward next to me in class and drawing attention to me - for some reason; people staring at me had never bothered me before - so I kept him in bankai most of the time during classes, a deceptively simple black sword attached to my belt line. (I tucked the cloak and clothes away, which annoyed Zangetsu.) It took a lot more reiatsu, but I told myself it was good endurance training. Also, for some reason I felt calmer in bankai, more... collected.
The classrooms were huge, lecture style, easily fitting at least fifty people, all the tiered rows leading down to a teacher with a blackboard below at the bottom. There were some required classes: swordsmanship, speed, hand to hand, kidou and bakuda, and Shinigami reports and history. You had to be able to read and write to take that one, which I tested out for. (Thank God, I'd only been learning reading since I was five.) In fact, I had a head start on pretty much everything; I even knew the beginning exercise for summoning reiatsu for kidou, from Ganjyuu.
You know what this meant?
That the first few days were really, really boring.
Later, we were assured, we'd get to the exciting parts, like konsoh and zanpakutoh! Which I already knew how to do. Completely fucking useless. And then of course, everyone turned to look at me when the teacher said those parts.
I decided to try out the training grounds, before finding out most of them were indoor buildings and just giving up. The outdoor stuff was for classes only. Do you have any idea how fast a Getsuga Tenshou could take down a school building? I mean, come on!
My one relief, my one hope, was that we were told we only had to be at the school for six months before we could take the final exam to test out. Others had tested out early before me. Among them were Shiba Kaien and Hitsugaya Toshiro. That sounded like exactly my thing.
Six months, I told myself. Six months.
There was the option of writing home to my family, but I had no idea how to reach them or even if I could, and I was afraid all I'd do was whine.
I took two electives - by force, not choice. One was in philosophy, and I almost debated not signing up for the other one. It was in haiku. But that was girly shit. But nothing else I saw really interested me. Finally, I decided to sign up tentatively. If I walked in and I was the only guy there, I always had another option: pretending I had the wrong room, running like hell, and never going back there again.
I decided that was my Plan B, and I fully expected to have to use it.
So the first day I had that class, I was on edge. Just a little bit.
So when I was in the mess hall, which was so horrifically normal it doesn't bear description and wasn't really up to my culinary standards anyway, and I bumped into a girl with short grey hair on my way out (I didn't eat where people were staring at me), I (mistakenly) snapped, "Watch where you're going," being a lot less polite than I normally would have been.
The girl called me out on my asshole behavior by tripping me, whirling me around, and punching me in the face.
I could have blocked her, but I was so surprised that I didn't.
"You watch where you're going!" the girl snapped. "I don't care who you are!" Then she set me back on my feet, pulled my robes neat again, and said, "And don't look so sloppy! Keep your footing!"
"Sorry," I said on autopilot, staring. "I tripped over something that looked suspiciously like a foot."
"I've heard of that," the girl gasped. "It's an epidemic and I hear it's going around the school! You should watch out." She smirked.
"Yeah, thanks, but it's a little late for that. Don't know how I'll recover." I realized I liked this girl. She was weird. 'My friends' weird.
"Maybe I can help." She smiled slightly and held out a hand. "Rae," she said.
"Ichigo," I returned and shook it.
"So I've heard," she admitted, and I winced. "At least it doesn't seem to have all gone to your head," she commiserated, placing one hand on her hip.
"Thanks," I said, deadpan, "that makes me feel loads better."
"Well, you turned out to be right in the end anyway, so who cares?" She shrugged.
"Philosophical," I replied, impressed.
She looked down at the class schedule in my hand. "Ooh, so I belong in your next class, it looks like!" She grinned.
I held the paper closer to myself, defensive. "Hey, don't look at that, it's mine!"
Rae rolled her eyes. "You sound like a little kid."
"I - I'll have you know that a person's class schedule is actually a fairly private piece of information!"
Rae looked at me skeptically, her lips pursed.
"Look, just -" I sighed, exasperated. "Can you please not tell anyone else? I don't want it getting out that I'm taking girly classes. Even if I was forced to," I added, for good measure.
Rae frowned. "What are you talking about? There is no gender division on class subjects like that."
I was caught off guard - and suspicious. I wasn't sure I believed her. "... What?" I asked at last, cautiously.
"It is an elegant thing to do. A lot of men take classes like that." She shrugged. "What is the problem?"
Wait, so was it a culture thing?
It turned out, when I walked into the classroom for haiku, that it was. There was a pretty even division in gender in the classroom. No one seemed nervous or embarrassed to be here. I sat down slowly at the back of the class, staring and staring around myself.
Well. Now I felt almost stupid. I wasn't sure I liked that.
But at least I wouldn't have to pretend I'd found the wrong room.
That was when I looked up to the front of the classroom and recognized someone. I perked up. "Hey! Kira Izuru!" I didn't know he taught classes.
Kira Izuru looked up, hesitantly. He was pale and thin and there were dark shadows under his eyes. He didn't look so good, actually. I stood up and went up to the front of the room to talk to him.
"Ah. Kurosaki Ichigo." He looked down. "We... regrettably, have never met."
"Yeah, no kidding. How are you feeling?"
He looked up at me, startled. I got the feeling that was one of those things I wasn't supposed to just ask someone I didn't know, or some bullshit like that.
I looked around and said, lower, "Look, Izuru, you really should - you know - eat. And sleep, maybe. A little more haiku and a little less worrying. Seriously, you look like death." I was tempted to recommend more drinking with Matsumoto, because he'd looked pretty happy back there.
"I... respect your concern, but find your questions very forward." His voice was weak, forced. Izuru looked down, hesitantly. "I... apologize."
"For what?" I asked, confused.
He looked up at me with big, mournful eyes. Okay, kind of weird, but whatever. I stood, waiting.
Then I realized, ridiculously late, that was just his normal expression.
And then things were just awkward.
"I... I don't know," he said at last, looking away, and I had a feeling I was just making him uncomfortable.
"Okay," I said at last, unsurely. "Well, let me know if you need anything..." I made my way back to my seat.
"... You know," a boy said, turning to look at me, after a while, "you really should fall him Kira-fukutaicho."
I snorted. "Yeah, sure. Thanks," I said sarcastically.
I'd probably just keep calling him Izuru.
I made sure to tell Kira Izuru on the way back out that I'd liked his class, even though it really only had been introductory. He perked up and seemed a little happier.
I made a mental note in the back of my head to tell him that a lot. You know, overdo it a little.
On my way back across the courtyard after classes, the evening sun setting behind me, something stupid happened. I'm talking, really, really stupid.
"Halt, Kurosaki Ichigo!" some kid behind me called dramatically. And as I paused, I could just feel it instinctively. I could sense the stupid.
I turned around, and there he was. Some kid with long brown hair tied into a ponytail, in a stance with a wooden sword in his hand, the kind they gave to people who knew nothing about swordsmanship and didn't have their zanpakutoh yet. He was glaring at me.
"Fight me!" he called. "I shall prove myself against you!"
Seriously? "No," I said flatly, just to see what he would do.
"You would refuse a challenge?" he cried, and then he came at me. Really slowly. People were staring - might as well give them a show.
I made a reiatsu trail around him, did the flash step in that direction, and before he could blink I was right behind him, yanking his sword back. He paused, stunned; I wrapped an arm around him, threw him to the ground, and grabbed his sword away from him. It felt kind of mean, but then he looked up at me, his face screwed up, and he yelled, "Fuck! Fuck!" And I was over it.
I bent over, holding the sword up, my lips twitching. "This?" I said. "You should be a little more careful with it." I threw it down next to him.
"I know how to use one!" He glared up at me. "I'm from the 68th district!"
"That sucks," I admitted.
"What?" He didn't even understand.
I sighed. "Never mind. You know what? See you later." I turned to leave.
"One day I will prove myself against you, Kurosaki Ichigo! Know my name, Nakamaru!" he called after me.
I looked back at him. "That's a weird name," I said matter of factly. At least he had spunk, but I'd never tell him that.
I walked away to leave and he chased me across the quad.
Great.
Author's Notes: Toshiro will get nicer as the story goes along.
Ichigo really doesn't cause his usual amount of trouble in this chapter. Don't worry, he'll revert back to his old ways soon enough.
There will be more about Ichigo in-class next chapter. I actually can't wait to show you guys what I have planned for him, but I guess you'll all just have to see. :)
