I think we can all agree that Mayuri would be the best mad science teacher ever. Sure, you'd have to be at least as nuts as he is to pass, but hey…who cares?
This chapter is a reassuring hug to everyone who's ever sat an exam and gotten up at the end with the "holy crap I just did epically bad" feeling at the end. I have gotten this feeling many, many times. (Some genius I am.)
But no, I'm going to work hard this year. Second year of university, woot! And my last year of being a teenager. (Impending nineteenth birthday = :S…I'm gonna feel so old when I turn twenty.)
Hopefully I don't get any sexy distractions, like Ichigo does…
Dancing Lessons
Chapter 7
Examination
'Oh man, we're all gonna fail!'
'Calm down, Asano-san.' Mizuiro looked at ease, as always, holding his pen and calculator as well as a copy of the cheat sheet and periodic table they were all allowed for the test.
Keigo's eyes were desperate. 'How long have I known you?' he exclaimed. 'And yet you've started talking to me like I'm a teacher all of a sudden.'
Tatsuki punched him in the arm, more gently than usual. 'He's right,' she told him. 'If you've studied the material like you're supposed to, then you should be fine.'
'Tatsuki-chan is right.' Orihime smiled at Keigo. 'You're smarter than you act, Keigo-san.'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
Ichigo ignored Keigo's antics as usual, sitting at one of the desks in the examination hall about halfway down. He didn't particularly want to sit near the front. He didn't want to increase his chances of being distracted. Don't think about Aizen, he thought to himself. That only made it happen, according to the bizarre logic of ideas.
To stop that in its tracks, to stop the memory before it came out to screw his concentration over utterly, Ichigo looked around the room. Calling it an examination hall was a laugh, really. It was just the school sports gym, portable desks set out in rows of twenty on the shining floorboards.
They had an hour to do this exam, and Ichigo ran over everything in his head, doing one last frantic check to make sure it was all still there. Bimolecular nucleophilic substitution reactions, yes, he remembered that. Leaving groups and protic versus aprotic solvents, that was easy -
Unimolecular nucleophilic substitution mechanisms? Ichigo struggled to recall those. The class had revised them recently, he knew that much. That had been their first lesson with Aizen -
Don't think about Aizen, he told himself forcefully. He couldn't afford to think about Aizen now. He especially couldn't afford to think about having extraordinarily erotic and frighteningly realistic dream-sex with Aizen.
God damn it all, now he was blushing. Surely everyone in the room could see.
In the chair next to him, Orihime fanned herself with her cheat sheet. 'I wish there was air-conditioning in here,' she said. 'It's the middle of summer.'
Oh well, at least he had an excuse for being red in the face. That made Ichigo relax a little.
'Good luck,' he told her. 'Even though you don't need it.'
Orihime giggled. 'Good luck to you too.' She leant over to give him a kiss. 'You'll do fine, Kurosaki-kun.'
The talking in the room gradually died down, and Ichigo saw that teachers were entering the hall at the front. Among them was Aizen Sousuke, wearing his square glasses as usual, hair in his eyes, smiling benevolently at the students.
Don't think about Aizen.
Ichigo focused instead on the principal, Yamamoto Genryuusai, who was standing at the very front of the examination venue. Principal Yamamoto didn't usually attend school examinations himself, but this was the seniors' chemistry exam, and they were close to preparing for entrance to university. Yet another reason why Ichigo really couldn't afford to screw this up. Vice-Principal Sasikibe was standing next to him, white hair combed back.
'Kurotsuchi-san asked me to present his condolences to all of you for being too unwell to officiate today's examination,' Yamamoto began. 'He wishes you all success, and wishes me to inform you that he is recovering and should be teaching again before the end of the year.'
'Great,' someone muttered from behind Ichigo. He turned to see Ishida Uryuu adjusting his glasses, trying to hide the distaste in his eyes. It was no secret that Kurotsuchi wasn't exactly Ishida's favourite teacher. When Ichigo had asked, Ishida had told him that there had been a falling-out between Kurotsuchi and his grandfather, who'd been an English teacher at the school some years ago. Ishida hadn't seemed to want to say any more than that, so Ichigo had dropped it, figuring the other boy had a right to privacy even if he did seem to have a ten-foot pole rammed up his ass most of the time.
Ishida noticed him looking, and glared. 'What, Kurosaki?' he demanded in an undertone.
'You don't want old Kurotsuchi coming back, huh?' Ichigo asked. 'Would you rather we keep that guy?' He pointed to Aizen, who - damn it - noticed the gesture. The man smiled benignly in his direction, but even that innocent change of expression still made a shiver of heat go through Ichigo.
'As a matter of fact, I would.' Ishida sounded haughty. 'At least Aizen-san doesn't go into explicit details about autopsies on a regular basis in class. Now stop talking to me, Kurosaki. I want to do well on this test.'
'Fine. Have it your way, Ishida.' Ichigo turned around to face the front again, swearing silently. He had wanted to criticise Aizen to someone, anyone, in the vain hope that another person would see the man for being less than squeaky-clean.
Ichigo knew he was out of control. He had had sexual fantasies - albeit unconscious ones - about his substitute chemistry teacher, and now he was trying to foist the blame off onto Aizen himself. He needed help. The sooner Kurotsuchi came back and he no longer had to see Aizen on a regular basis, the better.
Yamamoto had already left the room. Obviously the impromptu principal's address was now over. Vice-Principal Sasikibe stepped forward instead. 'Please commence writing,' he ordered.
Ichigo opened his test paper. The first twenty questions were multiple choice, and as he worked through them he relaxed. The questions were easy. He'd studied the material for these over and over again, he could do it in his sleep. He'd been freaking out for no reason. He was going to pass. No, he was going to do better than pass.
Ichigo grinned to himself. He might even beat Ishida Uryuu, the uppity genius. At the very least he'd be on par with Orihime.
He finished the first section of the exam, and turned to the short answer questions. These, too, weren't altogether difficult. There were a few moments where he had to stop and think, but he always caught the trick in the question and worded the correct answer successfully on the paper. All his studying had paid off. Apart from that, the test was fairly straightforward, not like Kurotsuchi's past exam papers.
Ichigo kept writing, smiling again, occasionally checking a numerical answer on his calculator. The past senior-year papers had been made available on the school websites for perusal, and Kurotsuchi's tests had been bizarre, to say the least. The questions were either fiendishly difficult or downright irrelevant, and it took at least as much luck and partial insanity as hard work and studying to pass senior-year chemistry. Ichigo clearly remembered being amazed that Kurotsuchi Mayuri had kept his job for as long as he had.
Obviously Aizen had written this exam rather than Kurotsuchi. Maybe there were some good points to having him take chemistry after all.
Ichigo turned to the last section of the test paper, feeling remarkably good about himself and the test. The long answer section was worth the most marks, but if it was anything like the rest of the test, Ichigo was going to breeze through it.
Organometallic Chemistry - Transition Metal Complexes
Ichigo read through the first problem.
Question 1. Explain, with reference to crystal field theory, which of the following two nickel complexes is likely to adopt a square planar geometry, and which will configure itself as tetrahedral.
Ichigo bit his lip. He could only half-remember crystal field theory. Kurotsuchi hadn't gotten to it before he'd had his accident. Aizen had explained it in detail in class the other day -
But Ichigo hadn't been paying attention. Well, he had been paying attention, just not to chemistry. Aizen had been wearing a slim-fitting dark collared shirt that day, and Ichigo had been mesmerised by the undone button at the top, the sliver of sculpted chest it had revealed -
Fuck. He could remember what fucking Aizen had been wearing that day in class, but he couldn't entirely remember how to pinpoint square planar versus tetrahedral? Nickel chemistry had been sketchy for Ichigo to begin with, and zoning out during Aizen's explanation hadn't helped.
He began to write anyway, making his best attempt to answer the question with what he knew. It was only worth five marks anyway.
He moved onto the next. Draw the reaction mechanism for the unimolecular halogenation of the following organic compound, identify the nucleophile and the electrophile, and give one use for this reaction in industry.
Fuck. This one was worth ten, and Ichigo didn't have the faintest clue how to do it.
He stared blankly at the page, trying to search his memory, knowing it had to be in there somewhere, even if only subconsciously. Shit. How much time did he have left again -
'Stop writing. The examination is over.'
Ichigo numbly closed his test paper, staring into space. He tried mentally adding up the marks he thought he would have gotten. He'd pass for sure, but would he actually do well?
It was unlikely, to say the least.
Ishida was tapping him on the shoulder. 'What?' Ichigo growled. He wasn't in the mood to have some smartass lording it over him right now.
A sigh of exasperation escaped Ishida's lips. 'Pass these test papers forward, Kurosaki,' he said.
Ichigo took the papers, adding his own to the stack. He felt like he'd been hit in the face with a brick. No, he'd been hit in the face with an exam question he'd had no clue how to answer. He sat there numbly, staring into space. This, he realized, had to be how Keigo felt all the time.
He almost would have preferred one of Kurotsuchi Mayuri's test papers.
Everyone around him was standing up, preparing to leave the room. Ichigo followed them numbly. The depression was beginning to sink in. At least Isshin, old goat-face, wouldn't give him a hard time about a bad grade. But Ichigo had never been one of those kids that got good grades for their parents' approval. He had wanted to do well for himself, not for anybody else.
He sighed, watching Orihime walking ahead of him, seeing her smiling and chatting with Tatsuki and Keigo. Any minute now, she was going to turn around, waving for him to join them, and then there would be the inevitable post-mortem of the test -
'Kurosaki Ichigo?'
The voice was soft, deep and male and polite. Ichigo knew that voice very well. It sent a shudder of heat straight to his lower belly, spiking between his legs.
He turned unwillingly, even though he wanted to pretend he hadn't heard Aizen. The only thing that could make today worse was getting punished for rudeness to a teacher.
The man regarded him behind those dark-framed glasses, wearing an expression of concern. 'I couldn't help but notice that you've been having difficulty in class lately.'
Was that a smirk beginning on his lips, a flash of darkness in his eyes? No, it wasn't. It couldn't be. In any case, whatever it was had disappeared, and Ichigo could no longer see it.
'I haven't yet had the opportunity to speak to you about it,' Aizen continued. 'I was wondering if perhaps there was anything I could do to help.'
Ichigo sighed. 'Thanks for your concern,' he said grudgingly. 'But it's kind of late now. I appreciate it,' he added, not wanting to sound rude.
Against his will, the memory bubbled to the surface of his mind. Ichigo remembered the dark bedroom, the faint scent of candle smoke, undressing Aizen and feeling the other man's body pressed against his -
He forced it down, but it was too late. He could already feel the blush flaring in his cheeks and on the back of his neck.
'I'm sure that's not the case.' Aizen, at least, seemed oblivious to Ichigo's discomfort. 'If you're sufficiently worried about your grade, it's always possible to apply for a makeup exam. If you'll come to my office with me, we can discuss it.'
Ichigo hesitated. It would obviously be rude of him to refuse outright, he knew, and he didn't have the presence of mind right now to think up a polite lie. He could see Orihime in the doorway of the gymnasium, her eyes wide and questioning and a little apprehensive when she saw who he was talking to. You're not in trouble, are you? she mouthed.
Ichigo shook his head slightly, waving to her with his left hand. It's okay, he tried to signal, knowing he was lying at least in part.
He still didn't trust Aizen. He felt guilty about that - the man was trying to help him, which was a damn sight more than Kurotsuchi would have done - but something about Aizen made him uneasy.
He was probably just being paranoid. Even if Aizen did have a doctorate, it wasn't a crime to be overqualified for your chosen job. But then Ichigo remembered Orihime's story, Urahara Kisuke's dismissal despite his denial that he'd had any involvement in the arson and drug trafficking incidents - and last but not least…
The nasty crawling feeling that the dream had been ever so slightly more than a dream wriggled in the centre of Ichigo's brain like a maggot, unwilling to leave. Why the hell had he been so sore that morning? He tried to kid himself with some bullshit about dreams feeling real enough to provoke physical responses to what happened to them. But that didn't explain the fact that his best clothes were missing, or the fact that he'd planned to go to Aizen's house but somehow ended up in his own bed asleep at the end of it with no memory of how he'd gotten there.
There was a hell of a lot that didn't add up.
Even knowing that, Ichigo felt himself nodding. 'Sure,' he said to Aizen. 'I have a free period now anyway.' He waved to Orihime again, trying to dispel his guilt as he noticed the outline of Aizen's shoulders through the white pressed shirt the older man was wearing, long-fingered hands adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.
If he was suspicious of Aizen, he could disprove his suspicions right here and now. Then Ichigo could get on with his life, and maybe even fix up his chemistry grade while he was at it.
He saw that smirk curl Aizen's lips again as the man turned to leave the gymnasium, heading up a flight of stairs to the left of the door. Ichigo followed behind him, trying to pick out just what he was feeling.
It was a mixture of intense arousal and apprehension.
It shouldn't take too much brainpower to figure out what's going to happen in Aizen's office. Ichigo really does keep walking into these things, doesn't he?
Don't go, Ichigo! He's not going to help you apply for a makeup exam! He's going to do naughty, naughty things to you!
But you'd like that, wouldn't you? *evil grins* I decided to end this chapter with a leader into more smut. It was originally going to be Ichigo being all "Aaah! I had really hot 'dream-sex' with Aizen and I want to have sex with Orihime because I love her and all this makes me a horrible person and oh god the angst, ANGST ANGST ANGST!"
But I decided Ichigo-angst would be boring. I did that in the last chapter.
Hope everyone liked, and is looking forward to the next one. ;)
