Title: It Felt Like Drowning
Author: c2t2
Part 2.2
Standard disclaimer: I do not own Bleach and do not make money.
AN: BONUS CHAPTER! TWO chapters this week, since I'm taking next week off. It's one of my favorite chapters too! And the longest!
If y'all think I've been good to ya, don't hesitate to be good back via a review!
Arc 2
Chapter 2: Frustration
Ichigo was going to murder Renji.
He knew the training would suck. He expected it to be miserable at first, but he never imagined it would be this bad.
Ichigo's entire body ached, and his joints screamed in pain. The burns on his arms itched horribly and he couldn't concentrate worth a shit.
He couldn't control his reiatsu, so for a successful kido, he needed complete focus on the words. If he spared one flickering thought for how shitty the poetry was, or how much he wanted to kill Renji, the spells backfired and blew up in his face. Which only made him angrier at the crappy poetry and the dumbfuck red-haired death god who had talked him into this. Which meant his concentration got even worse, escalating the cycle.
If that shit still wasn't bad enough, the aches in his body and his screaming joints were all thanks to sparring with Renji.
Ichigo was fairly certain that if he went bankai and brought out his mask, he could carve Renji up like a roast. Probably. However, they had left their zanpakuto at the other end of the enormous cavern. Ichigo decided that had been a mistake.
He had failed to appreciate that Renji had inches of reach and decades of experience on his side. Worse, Ichigo's greater reiatsu was useless fighting hand to hand, and Renji's fighting style allowed no room for mercy.
Ichigo had a solid grasp of karate and judo, and could hold his own against almost anyone in a street fight. But Renji seemed to use a cross between muay thai and brazilian jujitsu. His strikes were ruthless and aimed for the weakest points of the body. His grappling deliberately wrenched delicate joints and pounded full force into pressure points. Ichigo knew that if it wasn't for his spirit-body's reiatsu, he would have been a pile of broken bones, if not dead from internal bleeding and ruptured organs. He just hoped he'd given Renji back a fraction of the pain. For now, he took aim at the paper target.
"O Lord. Mask of blood and flesh," Ichigo pictured how he'd grab Renji's hair and wrench his head back, then tear out the redhead's throat with his teeth. "All creation, flutter of wings," he imagined the texture and the taste of his blood. "The one who bears the name of Man!" he ran tongue over teeth, testing their sharpness. "Inferno and chaos, the sea barrier-"
Ichigo's muscles were surging with adrenaline and frustration, so this spell was the most spectacular failure yet. The fireball seemed to engulf the universe. When the flames died down, Ichigo could smell his burnt clothes and hair as he collapsed onto his back.
"Motherfucker!" he choked out with far less volume than he expected. Oh, he was in a world of pain. Then Ichigo recalled what he had been thinking instead of concentrating on the spell, and suddenly the obscenity did not seem to be enough. "Cockshit! Pissfuck!" Stupid, but slightly more creative. What the hell was his mind doing to him? Either his Hollow was getting to him or he had been some kind of bloodthirsty carnivore in a past life and he was regressing.
Ichigo decided to blame Shirosaki. The Hollow had been acting strangely for some time. The voice in his mind hissed with pleasure whenever Ichigo set his eyes on Renji, and howled with delight when they sparred. He screamed for the king to bring out his mask; demanding to come out and play. Whenever Ichigo questioned his sudden interest, he was met only by the Hollow's unsettling laughter.
"Ichigo, you okay in there?" Renji stuck his head through the cloud of smoke and eyed Ichigo with concern. "Tell me you weren't trying shakkaho before you can even manage byakurai."
"Renji, if you say one more annoying thing, I swear I will crawl over to Zangetsu and we will tear you apart."
"Don't tempt me." Renji grinned. The only other people who looked that shark-like while smiling were Kenpachi and Ikkaku. Maybe it was an Eleventh Squad thing. Ichigo could see the recruitment posters now: 'Join today and get a free tooth-file!'
Realizing that his concentration was hopelessly fucked, Ichigo grunted and moved his battered spirit body, levering himself to his feet. "Let's call it a day."
After walking for a few minutes, they rounded an outcropping and saw the spring just ahead.
Renji loosed his hair and shed his clothes as Ichigo struggled with one of his shoes. With a loud whoop, the shinigami launched himself into the air, hitting the water in a cannonball. Ichigo couldn't help a grin as he continued to fumble with the ties of his shihakusho.
Renji surfaced and flipped his long hair onto his back with a dramatic whip of his head.
"Damn, I'm glad this spring is here!" Renji exclaimed before Ichigo could even ask about the sudden enthusiasm. "Before I remembered its healin' powers, I thought we'd have to go to Fourth or try to fix each other up with kido," he leaned back against the edge with a relaxed sigh.
Ichigo shook his head. Healing spells were nowhere near as dangerous as using destructive kido, but it would have made his mood even worse if he had to wave his hands over Renji and spout bad poetry only to have absolutely nothing happen…
Strange. Ichigo realized he'd gone from murderous rage to feeling amused and almost happy in the span of a few seconds. Damn teenage moodiness.
Ichigo stepped into the spring, wading out to the middle. He lowered his head and splashed the water on his singed scalp, sighing as the horrible itch vanished. He only managed to raise his head partway back up before something fascinating caught his attention. The rippling surface of the water hid the details, but the wavering black lines told Ichigo one thing for certain: Renji had tattoos on his thighs. His mind flashed back to the girl on TV, and he felt his face heat. When had he developed a tattoo fetish? Ichigo spent a few minutes searching his memory for when and how that particular preference had started...
Coming up blank, Ichigo realized that he had been staring way too long. He flicked his eyes up to Renji's face hoping he hadn't been caught. The redhead was still leaning back against the edge. His eyes were half closed, giving him an almost lazy air, but his gaze pierced straight into the substitute shinigami.
The wheels in Ichigo's mind kicked into overdrive, embarrassed, trying to read Renji's expression, trying to think of something to say, wondering if he should just pretend nothing had happened and he hadn't been caught doing anything because really he hadn't been doing anything and-
Renji stood.
Ichigo's mind went from 'warning' to 'panic' as he continued to notice things he really shouldn't be noticing.
He couldn't help it as his eyes tracked the streams of water rolling down Renji's body, the slight distortion of his tattoos caused by the drops of water. When standing, the spring barely reached the top of his hips. His eyes were still half-lidded and his face unreadable as he slowly moved in Ichigo's direction while the teenager was trying not to hyperventilate. Ichigo couldn't breathe; it felt like he was going to drown...
The edge of the spring hit Ichigo's back. He must have been backing away. He licked his dry lips, trying to say something. Maybe "what the fuck?" or anything that would hopefully break the spell of whatever was happening, but he couldn't form words and he couldn't tear his eyes from Renji's detached expression. His heart was pounding so hard that he could feel his pulse in his lips.
Ichigo's mind went from 'panic' to 'system failure' when Renji reached out and rested his hands on the edge of the spring on either side of Ichigo's body, effectively trapping him. Ichigo leaned back as the shinigami loomed over him, not touching him, not saying anything, still wearing that same expression of detached curiosity. He was leaning in, leaning in so far that his long hair brushed over Ichigo's stomach, making him shudder. The touch of Renji's hair seemed to wake a butterfly just under his ribs, which began flailing as desperately as Ichigo wanted to. He was too close, a single deep inhale would bring them into contact.
A sudden rush of determination, a spark of anger at the shinigami looming over him; Ichigo refused to be intimidated by the other man's height.
"Renji!" Ichigo's voice finally worked, though it was a little high-pitched. The shinigami's eyes lost their distant look, but he didn't step back. Didn't even move his long hair which was still leaving cold, wet trails on Ichigo's trembling stomach. "Renji!" Ichigo gasped, much more quietly, "What - what about Rukia?"
Renji straightened, his eyes completely open. Instead of replying, he stepped to one side and hoisted himself out of the spring, walking over to his discarded shihakusho. Ichigo kept his eyes facing forward, refusing to turn and catch a glimpse of the shinigami's undoubtedly tattooed ass. The fact that he wanted to was horrible enough.
"We should train with bankai tomorrow. I'm already sick of this kido shit," Renji's voice floated from behind him. "Ya wanna stay here or go back tonight?"
"There's somewhere I can stay?"
"You'll have to stay with me, I guess. Lots of paperwork to set up somethin' else."
Much to his dismay, Ichigo couldn't help a blush, "You do have an extra futon, right?"
There was a slight pause, "Yeah." Renji had stifled a sarcastic reply. Ichigo knew then that it hadn't been his imagination. Something really had happened.