So, uuuh... Chapter 6, ladies and gentlemen.
I was in a really shitty mood when I was writing this - you'll see why - but I think it worked quite nice for the purpose of this chapter.
Anyway, a big "thank you" to everyone who reviewed! I hope you enjoy this one as well.
Disclaimer; I do not own Bleach or any of the characters. However, I do own and claim Emily and Emma.
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Tuesday afternoon.
The moment Ichigo raised his hand to knock on the Jaegerjaques', the door snapped opened, revealing his boss in the flesh who in turn seemed to be in a goddamned hurry.
"Ichigo!", she exclaimed, startled, "You're late!"
"U-Uh, sorry," Ichigo apologized, equally suprised from their sudden encounter.
Emily gave him a long stare but smiled a little in the end. "So sweetie, I'd -"
Ichigo didn't really register what she was saying afterwards, his attention focusing on one thing solely; her eyes. They were red rimmed and wet. Also her smile from before didn't reach her eyes like it normally did.
Had she been crying?
"… and I received an urgent call, so do you mind staying a little bit later today as well?" When Ichigo didn't answer she quirked a blue eyebrow. "Ichigo, are you listening to me?"
Ichigo blinked and shook his head. "Emily, are you alright?", he asked before he could stop himself. Emily stared at him again, her normally dancing in amusement eyes turning cold and serious.
H-Huh?
"I'm fine," she bit out, her harsh tone completely unfamiliar to Ichigo, "As I said, I need you to stay here late, have I made myself clear?"
Stunned beyond belief, Ichigo opened and closed his mouth multiple times before he could muster an intelligible answer. "Ah, y-yes, I-I get it."
"Good," Emily said, her voice and eyes softening just a tiny bit. "I'll see you later." She brushed past Ichigo, heading to the elevator in a brisk pace. Ichigo gaped at her retreating back until the elevator doors closed shut.
What the hell was that about?
Just now, Emily was like a whole different person. That look in her eyes was one Ichigo never wanted to see again; such coldness with a hint of repressed anger, but most of all raw anguish. What was eating her? Painful emotions didn't suit this woman. She deserved to be happy and happy only.
Stepping into the house, Ichigo scowled while taking off his shoes. He was almost a hundred percent sure that Emily's odd behavior had to do something with her son. Her eyes were even red, damn it!
"Ichi! Ichi!", Emma's loud yell stirred him back to the real world from the negative thoughts flooding his mind. She was reaching up for him, giggling, her little hands clutching the hem of his shirt. When did she get there in the first place?
"Hey little demon," he greeted, picking her up in his arms and kissing her chubby cheek. His bad mood was temporarily pushed at the back of his mind.
Emma shook her head disapprovingly. "You're late Ichi," she scolded.
Ichigo chuckled. It scared the hell out of him how grown up that child was sometimes behaving. "Excuse me young Lady, it won't happen again."
The little demon giggled playfully; she had already forgiven him. "It's okay. Now let's play!" She squirmed lively in Ichigo's grasp, forcing the oranget to put her down and frown at her before following her to the living room.
"Ichi, let's play, let's play," she requested once Ichigo was seated on the couch.
"What do you want to play?"
The blue haired girl, tapped her chin, her lips pressed into a thin line of consideration. Ichigo grinned in amusement.
"Let's have a drawing competition!", she finally shouted excitedly.
"A drawing competition?"
"Yes, yes," she rushed to explain, "If I win, you'll let me watch the late Spongebob episode and if you win…" She stopped there, thinking before jumping and adding cheerfully, "If you win, you can decide your prize!"
Ichigo smirked. "It's a deal," he managed to say before she jumped off the couch and ran to her room to retrieve her drawing pencils and markers. Wiping a few tears – of laughter of course – that had gathered around his eyes, Ichigo took a deep breath and prepared himself for the upcoming competition. He sucked hard nads at drawings and at anything of artistic nature.
Yeah. That'd be fun. It'd certainly take his mind off of things.
Come to think of it, Ichigo had a lot in his mind lately. First was the university, with the shitload of essays and tests, Renji's incapability of learning anything closely related to math and then Shinji's constant nagging about Ichigo not going out with him any more.
He had to study damn it.
Besides, the last test in biochemistry was a disaster; although the subject was relatively easy and so were the questions, Ichigo got himself a big fat F. It was written in such way, it seemed like the paper itself said "Fuck you!", which was appropriate, concerning the stupid mistakes he had made. At least he'd be able to make up for it on Thursday's test. Hopefully...
To add to all this, the previous day, he had received an urgent call from his fifteen year old sister, Yuzu, that his other sister, Karin, got into a fight and broke her hand and a few ribs.
"Damn it, Karin," he cursed under his breath in Japanese, thankful that little Emma wasn't there yet.
Karin was always so impulsive, she didn't think twice before she spoke or acted; from what Yuzu told him, Karin and her friends were out playing soccer, until a bunch of third years showed up and mocked them. Being as short tempered as Ichigo was, his little raven haired sister stood up for her team and got into a fight with the seniors, all of them boys so to say. Although, according to Yuzu, Karin managed to knock out half of them on her own, before the rest of them ran away, she was left with a broken hand and two fractured ribs.
Ichigo was still worried about his little sister's health, even though his old man, also a doctor, assured him that she was okay, before he started yowling how much his little girl had grown and took on bigger boys. The orange haired man had ended the call at that point. His old man was a fucking weirdo on crack sometimes.
"Ichugo!" Emma called, waving her hand in front of Ichigo's face, "What's the matter, you look troubled."
Her voice was so full of concern that Ichigo melted a little inside. He ruffled her sea blue hair and smiled weakly at her. "Sorry, I am just a little tired," he said.
He was tired. He really was.
Wide blue eyes stared up at him, Emma's gaze calculating, scanning. "Okay," she muttered in the end and then grinned mischievously, "Even if you're tired, I won't go easy on you! I'll definitely defeat you in the contest!"
With that said, Emma grasped all the paint markers and the colored pencils, getting to work. Ichigo wasted some of his time looking at her concentrating face, thinking that she was the one of the few so joyful existances left in his life.
Time passed quickly while they both worked on their "masterpieces" with the dedication and the passion of a true artist. Emma came up with a grizzly bear family whereas Ichigo drew a sideways view of the human brain.
"What is this?", Emma asked, wrinkling her nose in disgust, "It is horrible!"
"It's the human brain, silly," Ichigo retorted, "Something apparently you don't have."
Emma scowled angrily. "No, you're the one with no brain! Stupid!"
"Oh yeah?", Ichigo taunted, playfully tickling her tummy, "I'm not the one who drew bears with ears on their necks!", he said, pointing at the picture of the deformed grizzly bear family, with peculiar eyes and dislocated body parts.
Emma blushed, hiding the embarrassing picture behind her back. "I'm not good at drawings, okay?", she defended, her face apologetic, "That doesn't make me silly!"
"Of course it doesn't," Ichigo agreed, "But that's what you get for insulting my drawing."
"You're dense," Emma mumbled petulantly.
"So are you," Ichigo shot back, grinning from ear to ear.
They kept mock fighting with each other for some time before Emma gave up, saying "You are too immature Ichugo," and suggested they watched TV. Ichigo had laughed hysterically at the dismissive comment, thinking that maybe, yes, he was immature but it was entirely too cute for a little girl such as Emma to talk about maturity.
TV suggestion settled, and so she and Ichigo started watching a terrifying version of Naruto english dubbed, which had Ichigo cringe at the mere sound. He had grown up with Naruto as a kid but listening the originally Japanese characters speaking lamely translated in English Japanese, gave him the chills.
It wasn't long before Emma's head fell on his arm, her breathing evening out as she fell asleep.
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Little Emma was finally asleep in her bed. Ichigo had carried her as soon as he made sure she would not wake up and closed her room's door behind him quietly. He sighed, a huge smile adorning his face. This tiny, blue haired demon of cuteness would be the death of him one day. Mark his words.
Finally, some time to nerd myself out, he thought to himself and made his way to the living room, where his stuff lay all over the place. He found a bunch of notes about immunology and a couple of pathological lymph nodes slides, and with a nod to himself he settled down to study.
It wouldn't have been twenty minutes since he switched his nerd mode on when suddenly, the sound of glasses coming together made his ears perk up, all his muscles tensing dangerously. It came from the kitchen. Frowning, he walked slowly towards said room, his stance defensive and stiff. Who the hell was in the house?
Peaking from the kitchen door, Ichigo came across a sight that had him freezing on the spot, his heart back flipping in his chest. What the eff?
In front of him, just a few meters away, stood a shirtless young man fussing around the kichen's cupboard and in the prossess of pulling out a huge mug. But nevermind that; Ichigo found himself leering at the broad, muscular back presented in abundance, those stone-washed, blue jeans riding dangerously low on deliciously narrow and protruding hip bones, before slowly registering that the man had… Blue hair?
Blue hair?
It slowly clicked. Well, the color was blue but it was a different shade from the rest of the Jaeguerjaques family; instead of the navy-blue, this guy had sky blue hair.
So this had to be his boss's notorious son, in the flesh, ladies and gentlemen.
With his good mood from before darkening at the sight of the heartless bastard who continuously hurt Emily and Emma, Ichigo cleared his throat to attract the younger man's attention. Azure, bone melting eyes focused on him, making Ichigo's knees quiver like jello, just like all the rest of the Jaegerjaques did but the negativity of his thoughts severely outnumbered that feeling. Ichigo opened his mouth to speak but the blue haired boy beat him to it.
"Who the fuck'er you?"
Ichigo scowled at the youth's crass, not to mention rude, attitude, his previous good mood evaporating completely like pure alcohol. However, he managed to stay remotely calm. After all, he really needed this job so the first thing he wanted to avoid was getting into an argument with his boss's beloved son and get himself fired.
"I am Ichigo Kurosaki, your sister's temporary keeper," he said instead, as calmly as his short temper allowed him to.
The blue haired man scoffed, pouring some hot tea into that huge mug he had taken out previously. "What-fuckin'-ever," he muttered, oiling Ichigo's inner fire a tad more. I need this job, I need this job, Ichigo kept chanting in his head, willing his patience not to snap.
But suddenly it was too late; be it the negative feelings he already had for the boy, be it his pride as a man that got in the way but as soon as the other looked up at him, blue eyes dancing with mischief, Ichigo knew that patience time was over.
"Yer cooking sucks, by the way," the rude youngster said casually.
Ichigo was strongly debating whether or not to lung himself at the other boy and teach him a few manners but alas, at the last moment, he contained his flaring temper. Barely, though. Alright, Ichigo knew that he couldn't cook to save his life but he couldn't stand the fucking nerve that brat had!
Instead, he bowed formally, placing his hand over his chest just like a butler would do, and he tried to make his voice as dry and sarcastic as possible when he said, "My deepest apologies that my cooking wasn't to your liking, Lord Asshole."
Straightening up to see how his answer had affected the teen, Ichigo nearly pissed his pants in fear; all the previous humor in the teen's eyes had dried out, his cornflower-blue eyes slicing diamonds. Hell, it even felt as if the room temperature dropped at least thirty degrees as the two males stared at each other. Ichigo felt positively afraid for his life but held his ground, crossing his arms in front of his chest and waiting.
"Yer mouthing off? To me? Ya know who I am?", the blue haired boy asked, or rather threatened, breaking the heavy silence nestled between them. Ichigo stared a little more before he dared to chuckle dryly, a smirk lifting the left corner of his mouth. Heh. What a fucking dipshit. Ichigo's inner fire was back.
"A spoiled brat is all I see," Ichigo retorted.
Jaegerjaques seethed, baring his teeth and took a few steps closer to Ichigo. Even though Ichigo didn't move a muscle, his body stiffened noticeably in defense, the hairs at the back of his neck standing to attention.
"Ya should prob'bly watch yer mouth around me, Orange," the younger man growled.
Anger now seeping through his pores in tidal waves, Ichigo's scowl darkened a few more shades. He had had enough of that asshole's high and mighty attitude.
"Hoh? Was that a threat, young grasshopper?"
Suddenly, everything became blurry and the next thing Ichigo realized was a sharp pain attacking viciously the whole length of his back as the larger male shoved him roughly against the kitchen wall, his air passages blocked by a large hand tightly wrapped around his neck.
When had the fucker moved?
"No one talks to me like this." The words came out in a slow growl, the absence of teasing scared the orange haired man. Ichigo should have backed down to not irritate the young deliquent any further but his pride got the best of him.
"Obviously someone should," he chocked around the block on his throat.
The hand around his neck tightened some more, making Ichigo force a breathless moan down. His vision had started to blacken, his head spinning from the lack of oxygen. But he wouldn't give up. Not yet.
"I will kill you."
Ichigo's eyes went anime wide at the unexpected yet must-be-taken-seriously threat. He took in the blurry image of his attacker before reaching out and grabbed a hold of the other's wrist. Knowing a little more than an average person about the position of the carpal bones, the oranget expertly placed his fingers and pressed hard on where the scaphoid bone should have been.
The blue haired boy briefly glanced down on his wrist and gritted his teeth. Bingo. Ichigo was causing him pain already. With all the strength he could muster from his oxygen deprived muscles, he increased the pressure. This time, the attacker growled in pain.
Hang in there, hang in there! Just a little more and Ichigo'd break that fucking bone!
Before his wishes came true, the blue haired teen slapped Ichigo's hands away, releasing the grasp around Ichigo's neck too. He went to cater his hand straight away, rotating and massaging his wrist. On the other hand Ichigo collapsed on his knees and wheezed like an old man, desperately sucking in as much of the precious oxygen as he could. Shit, that was close. Ichigo fleetingly thought that the boy indeed wanted to kill him.
He didn't have too much time to appreciate his lovely reunion with the atmospheric air because a hard kick to his ribs forced the air back out. Ichigo fell on his side grunting in pain, staring at the sadistically smirking face of the Jaegerjaqes boy looming over him.
"Ya got the fight in ya, Orange, doncha?", said the boy, delivering another hard kick onto Ichigo's side. Ichigo moaned in pain again, curling into fetal position. The other male cackled and roughly lifted Ichigo up from the front of his shirt, his stone cold blue eyes drilling angry holes into Ichigo's. Ichigo could barely stand, let alone fight back. He needed...
He needed to suck it up and fight back!
"Lemme tell ya somethin'," said the blunet, "You can sell out yer smart mouth to yer gay ass friends, but not to me." His face grew closer, his blue eyes glimering in rage.
"I ain't one to fuck with."
Ichigo felt his mouth lift into a smirk. There it was. His carnal, blood lusting side was waking up and chuckling. Clenching his hand into a solid fist, he delivered a nearly deadly blow on the larger male's stomach, right on the solar plexus. The blue haired man groaned and staggered back a few steps, but sooner than Ichigo had expected, he stroke back, his fist finding Ichigo's jaw.
Ichigo swore he saw stars. Damn, that guy had one hell of a punch.
Too bad Ichigo was better.
From his periphery, Ichigo registered another fist coming his way. This one, he caught with his bare hands and with the flick of his right leg, he kicked the blue haired teen behind his knee, making the boy loose his balance.
That was all she wrote.
Putting all the remnants of his strength, he grasped the boy's arm, pulled him closed and threw the boy over his shoulder to the floor with a twist of his torso. Heh, it wasn't so bad he was a judo black belt after all.
The other man hit the floor with a silent "oomph", and Ichigo wasted no time before he was straddling the teen's hips, pining the hands previously wrapped around his neck down at the marble floor. At the younger man's expression he smirked; outstanding blue eyes were wide, startled. Apparently no one had even lived long enough to dominate this brass boy into a battle.
There is always a first time for everything.
"Well then, let me tell you something, bratty little shit," Ichigo spat angrily into the other's still stunned face, "I may work for your family but that ain't giving you any rights to treat me like trash, let alone beat me up because I fuckin' talked back to you."
The blue haired boy struggled effortlessly to free himself before biting a harsh, "Fuck you!"
The oranget cackled darkly, his grip on the boy's wrists tightening, "Sorry," he said smugly, "Not interested in men with cotton candy hair."
The body underneath him writhed in agitation once more but Ichigo knew he had the upper hand in this position.
"Get tha fuck offa me, bastard!", snarled the blue haired youngster.
"Che," Ichigo snorted, finally releasing the armlock before standing up to his feet, "You're a hundred years to early to be mouthing off to me, boy," he added, voice dripping with sudden disgust. Actually, it wasn't exactly sudden; Ichigo was disgusted by this asshole's shitty behavior towards his mother and sister and now towards him too.
The rebel stood up too and dusted himself off with a fierce scowl on his otherwise handsome face. Ichigo studied him in silence, feelings of mortification slowly taking over the previous rage. Damn, he had let his temper get the best of him once more. No matter how much the other had pissed him off, he shouldn't have started a fight. He rubbed a hand over his face and through his hair, before sighing in defeat. Then again, he mused, He didn't regret doing it. That asshole had it coming. Absently minded, Ichigo touched his neck, flinching at the subtle sting of pain.
Fuck, this was going to bruise. So would his aching ribs too.
Then their eyes locked, attracting Ichigo's attention from the pain on his neck; icy blue with stony brown. They stayed silent for quite a while, exchanging wordless threats, calculating and measuring one another.
It was Ichigo who broke this silence, "I will not let your mother know about this fiasco, as I do not wish to upset her any more than you already seem to be doing or get myself fired in anyway," he said quietly. Then he added, his tone fiercer, "This is between you and me kid."
"Quit it, asshole!", the other muttered and Ichigo wanted to laugh at how sullen and petulant he sounded. Aaaw the first class asshole Jaegerjaques could even sound like a petulant child.
"How old are you?", Ichigo suddenly asked, his curiosity killing the cat.
"As old as I want," came the rude reply. Humans, especially teenagers, were so predictable. Ichigo did not get mad this time; he simply cocked his head to the side, crossing his hands over his chest and waited. Just as he expected, the irritable youngster gritted his teeth and huffed.
"Eighteen."
Ichigo quirked one orange eyebrow. Eighteen, huh? He had guessed right. However, this guy still looked twenty five at the very least. He was huge! A devious idea to tease the boy came up to his mind and Ichigo smirked. Although he really should give it a rest and not push his luck any further, the oranget couldn't stop himself.
"Too bad," Ichigo sighed in mock defeat, "You're an adult thus I can't send you to your room, grounded for the rest of the night. But I can sue you for assault."
"Fuck off," the boy threw over his shoulder as he went to pick the until now forgotten mug, takin a long sip from his tea. The tea seemed to calm him down a little, if the relaxing of his naked shoulders was any indication.
Ichigo chuckled dryly; after all this unnecessary ruckus, he came to realize that teasing the irritable boy in front of him - instead of beating him up - was kind of fun; sadistic fun but still fun.
He deserved it at the very least. Asshole.
"Language," he scolded, making a pair of angry blue eyes pine him into place. He chuckled again, amused.
"Yer too cocky fer yer own good, Orange," the youngster muttered as he slowly made his way past Ichigo and out of the kitchen. Ichigo followed him unconsciously.
"You can just suck on my cockiness, boy." Really, Ichigo could just shut the fuck up and let it go already but nooo his mouth did not wish to cooperate with his brain.
"Fuckin' fag," said the other.
"At least I'm not a pussy…"
"Look," the boy bit back, turning to face Ichigo so suddenly, the orange haired man had a moment of vertigo, "I ain't in tha mood ta deal witcha right now. Plus, if I really do kick yer faggot ass, Em'll wake up."
The oranget scowled fiercely, taking a step closer to the bigger yet younger male. Although he knew that he didn't really stand a chance against the other in another fist-to-fist fight, he'd take his risks. He would bow down to that certified twat and inflate his already boasting ego.
"I'll show you some good kicking ass, young grasshopper. Just name it," Ichigo spat aggressively in the other's face. Their faces were mere inches apart and Ichigo could feel the other's breath on his face, slow and rhythmic, blue eyes filled with suppressed rage and something Ichigo could not exactly identify but it sure as hell was unnerving.
The corner of Jaegerjaques' mouth lifted in a humorless smirk and then the blue haired teen turned his back on Ichigo and walked into his bedroom.
"Go back to yer studyin', nerd," he said dismissively and Ichigo wanted to kick him and break his legs. He contained it. Emily wouldn't be so happy if he hurt her precious son.
"And you go back into being a heartless asshole that gets off by causing his family pain," Ichigo said acidly in response.
The boy's back stiffened once more and Ichigo expected confrontation, at least a shout or another punch. Instead, he received a door to his face, the blue haired boy not even commenting on Ichigo's accusation.
What the fuck was this guy's problem anyway?, Ichigo thought to himself and felt a headache shooting his temples. Perfect, how was he going to study now? Shaking his head and taking a few calming breaths, Ichigo slowly walked back in the living room. He found his backpack and opened it, dragged out the gigantic anatomy atlas on his lap, deciding to study anatomy instead of immunology after all. Less shit for a headache, he mused. Although he currently felt like shit, sick to his stomach and his throat drier than Sahara, getting his blood pumped renewed, his thirst for knowledge suddenly increased. It was weird but at least it was productive.
Burying his nose in the large book, Ichigo dug himself into the sweet world of the human brain, his own mind cloudy and full of shadows.
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Shit happens, ne?
Thanks for reading,
Queen.