Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding title to its distribution. Used for non-profit entertainment purposes.

Warnings: crack, Ichigo's potty mouth

As one of the people in my LJ comments said, Matsumoto plus Photoshop equals bad, bad evil.

July 12 Prompt: Humiliation

Graphic Design

Ichigo had never felt the need to crawl in a hole and die so strongly as he did at that moment.

The day started off fairly normal; he quickly rose and got ready for class, waited ten minutes after Rukia left after he went out the door and made his way to class. He got to school a few minutes early, sat down at his usual seat, ignored the usual banter between his classmates and the shinigami that had infiltrated the school posing as students, and pulled out his notebook. A piece of paper fluttered down from his notebook, and just before he could bend down to pick it up, Keigo snatched it off the floor with an accusing glare. Then Keigo had a look.

From there, it went downhill.

All of a sudden, Keigo had turned bright red and began shrieking at Ichigo about something involving women and decency, tears streaming down the young man's face as he waved the paper furiously in the air. From the small glimpse Ichigo caught of it, it was a picture. He didn't remember ever putting a picture into his notebook.

Kojima snatched the picture away, and after a brief glance, he smirked.

"Way to go, Ichigo," he said, impish grin plastered on his face. "I didn't know you had it in you."

"What the–"

Ichigo never finished his question. Renji was behind Kojima, peering curiously over Kojima's shoulder. It took less than five seconds for Renji's face to go from curious, to beet red, and then rage. Ichigo yelped when Renji pulled him out of his seat by his shirt collar and slammed him into the wall.

"What the hell have you been doing to Rukia, you sick bastard?!" Renji demanded in a low hiss. "I thought you were better than this!"

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" Ichigo growled, pulling Renji's hands away from his shirt.

"Then how can you explain this?" Renji dropped one hand from his hold to shove a picture in Ichigo's face.

Ichigo squinted, and when the picture came into focus, he felt the blood rush to his face as he began sputtering, unable to form a cohesive sentence.

"That isn't mine!" he exclaimed.

"What was it doing in your notebook, then?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?"

"You're the one who's living–"

Ichigo slapped his hand over Renji's mouth, hissing him into silence. "Goddamn it, I didn't take that fucking picture, and it isn't fucking mine!"

"Then whose is it?"

"I don't know! Somebody had to have put it there, and–"

"What are you two idiots fighting about?"

Renji and Ichigo both started, turning nervously to look at Rukia. Laughing nervously, Renji slipped the picture behind his back and rubbed the back of his head with his free hand.

"Ah- it's nothing!" he said. "We're just... uh... we're just having a nice man-to-man conversation. Right, Ichigo?" He elbowed Ichigo in the ribs.

Ichigo shot a glare at Renji, and was spared having to answer when Keigo began wailing all over again, groveling at Rukia's feet. Rukia looked rather confused, and Ichigo hoped that Keigo's antics would continue to keep that up long enough for him to find a way out of his current mess before Rukia saw the picture.

That's when he saw Matsumoto snickering in the corner of the room.

Snatching the picture out of Renji's hands and storming over to the buxom woman, Ichigo shoved the picture in her face.

"What the fuck is this?"

"I just thought you needed a little... encouragement, Kurosaki-kun," Matsumoto said with a giggle. "What? Don't you like it?"

"Kurosaki-kun? What picture is Asano-kun talking about?" Rukia asked from behind him.

Fuck!

"N-Nothing!" he squeaked, whirling, and completely forgetting that he was still holding the picture in his hand.

With a curious expression, Rukia easily plucked the image from Ichigo's fingers and looked at it with a blank expression. Ichigo started sputtering again.

"I swear it isn't mine – Matsumoto-san–"

"This is fake," Rukia noted pensively. "I don't wear anything but Chappy's line of underwear."

Ichigo's mouth moved, but no words came out. Rukia continued wondering aloud – seemingly fascinated – about the workmanship of the manipulated image, and Ichigo whirled to glare at Matsumoto, who shrugged. She was still giggling.

"I. Hate. You," he snarled.

"Oh come now, you know you at least enjoyed the idea," Matsumoto replied with a grin.

And before Ichigo could come back with a retort, the chime rang and signaled the start of class. Matsumoto tossed him a wink before she sauntered to her seat, and Renji still cast a scathing glare at him every so often during class. Ichigo knew with a sinking feeling that he'd never live this one down.