So, against previous decisions and much argument on the parts of a few choice associates, I was convinced to put this series up on This is a product of someone pointing out the pairing, saying both characters needed the attention and my being bored. And the plot bunnies eating my brain, but that's never a surprising thing, really.
And now I give you the strangeness that is the Ikkaku/Nemu pairing. Enjoy. The few of you actually reading these.
Come What May
Rundown
Nemu walked the empty halls of the academy. Despite being late for class, she strode with her usual, even strides (mayuri-sama would be angry knowing she was running about). It wasn't a surprise that she would come late to morning classes and her instructors had long since stopped berating her.
Because of Mayuri-sama, she would tell herself and think nothing more on the matter.
(because mayuri would screech at her about her latest performance and berate her and beat her if he figured he had the time but it never really mattered to him because she was almost always late whenever she reported her progress in to him)
The instructors were very kind about it. Nemu made a note to herself to do especially well on her next exam to show her appreciation.
(somewhere two halls down she vaguely heard someone pounding down the building yelling 'ohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrap' as they went but paid them little heed)
She stood at the door to her classroom, hand poised to slide the door back but her attention was caught by the note tacked to the woodwork.
That was why she was run over by a large body in the middle of a rather loud 'ohc-!'
Nemu was not unused to being knocked around with or without prior knowledge of the strike. But being sent sprawling and then pinned at an awkward angle by a heavier body left her surprised and slightly dizzy.
"-rap." The heavy body above her said. Immediately the weight jumped to his feet and Nemu was then further surprised by rough hands that grabbed her under the arms and lifted her to her feet so quickly she almost forgot she was on the floor.
"Ah, man, I'm really sorry 'bout that." The same rough hands hastily attempted to straighten her out (dust off her uniform, straighten how it fell, pull her long hair down her back- only succeeding in rumpling her more) before turning her around.
It was someone from her class, another chronic latecomer (had trouble waking up if she remembered correctly). The bald one, always showing off, one of the most physically capable students in class (nemu couldn't recall the name off hand, just that he always gave her the feeling of a naked blade- harmless if left alone, but vibrant and dangerous when mishandled) who looked at her with such open fear at hurting her that something stirred deep inside.
Did he really think her to be so fragile that she couldn't handle a little fall? Nemu wondered if Mayuri-sama would be upset.
Back stepping out of his hands, Nemu told him, "I am fine."
He let out an explosive breath and grinned wildly. "Thank god." Then, remembering that they were late, his expression fell. "Crap!" He whirled and slammed open the door, completely disregarding the paper. Nemu watched it flutter to the floor as she heard her classmate skid to a stop in the middle of the classroom. He poked his head back out into the hall. "Where is everyone?"
Kneeling, Nemu picked up the paper and read through it quickly. "They've had to change the schedule because one of the instructors are sick. We're supposed to meet at the training hall in ten minutes."
"Ten minutes!" Nemu looked up idly, wondering how someone could get by with flailing emotionally as much as he did. "We gotta go!"
To her constant surprise, Nemu was jerked off her feet and running down the hall. Her classmate had grabbed her wrist (his hand looked as if it could encompass her arm twice, covering nearly half her forearm- she supposed, in comparison, he had a right to worry about hurting her) and lugged her down the hall after him.
Inside, Nemu panicked. Mayuri-sama never told her what to do in a situation like this. If he found out someone was making her run down the hall like this, what would he say? "St-Stop that!"
The male, startled that her husky voice could get so loud, came to a halt. "Huh?"
"Why are you dragging me?" She asked, pointedly looking at his hand on her arm.
"Well," he seemed oblivious to her gaze, "we're gonna be late. You don't wanna get in trouble for being late, do you?" They stood in the hall, unable to comprehend each other. He offered another (less confident) grin to placate her. "C'mon. Kerozuki, right? We gotta get going!"
Confused at the concern (why should he be worried about her getting in trouble?) Nemu loped silently behind him. His longer legs had them nearly flying down the corridor though after the first near disastrous first corner (as she slid and was nearly slingshot into the wall), he kept checking back, making sure he was dragging her along. Whenever she slowed down (for safety, not because she was tired) he encouraged her faster, tugging lightly on her wrist.
Nemu, staring in puzzlement at his back, ran silently behind him.
Though (if she had cared for that sort of thing) they certainly made an entrance at the training hall.
"We're here!" He cried, nearly falling to his knees and panting. Nemu had to lean against the door frame herself.
The entire class stopped and STARED. Nemu shifted uncomfortably, facing more toward the wall. "MADARAME!" The instructor snapped. "You're late AGAIN!" (nemu wondered how she could've forgotten his name when it was always being yelled out by angry instructors like that)
"I woulda been on time!" He panted in return. "If you didn't change the stupid schedule at the last damn minute!"
The instructor (a large, heavily muscled man who believed in physical discipline) smacked Madarame in the back of the head, nearly sprawling the smaller boy over. "Don't give me that crap! If you were at the classroom on time, you would've been here on time also! And look what you did to Kurotsuchi!"
Madarame rubbed his head and blinked. "Kuro-?"
"I'm fine, Instructor." Nemu said softly, pushing herself away from the wall. "We didn't want to be any later than we already were."
The Instructor looked down at her with an uncertain frown covering the jowls on his face. Madarame was still crouched, watching in surprise. The rest of the class went back to their training, the situation obvious already been resolved.
"All right then." He rumbled thickly. "Kurotsuchi, get one of the other students to explain today's exercise to you. Madarame, twenty laps." Nemu bowed and went quietly on her way. Madarame grunted and followed her to the back.
"Hey," he said as he caught up, "how come you didn't correct me?"
Nemu gave him a blank look.
"When I called you… er, whatever it was I called you. Why didn't you correct me?"
"I didn't want to cause problems." She said simply.
"Problems? What sort of problems are ya gonna cause with a name?" He stuffed his hands under his belt. "I feel like a jackass now, knockin' you over and then callin' you weird names."
"I thought names didn't cause problems."
He looked huffy. "It does when you get it wrong! Names are for people to remember- what's the point in having one if they get it wrong? It just means you're not worth remembering!"
Nemu didn't know what to say in response and so said nothing.
Which was fine because the instructor threw one of the sparring gloves at Madarame's head. "I told you to get running!" He muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear. "Like someone like you has a chance with Kurotsuchi."
Madarame's whole face reddened, shouting back indignantly as the class snickered, "It's called being friggin' polite, ya fat geezer! You wouldn't know flirting if you had Matsumoto over there hangin' on ya!" Several of the students burst out laughing as Matsumoto shook her head. The instructor practically threw the rest of the sparring rack at Madarame, just to get him started running. When the student went by him for the fifth time making kissy faces, the instructor chased him around with a wooden practice sword.
Nemu watched all this quietly and wondered how this was considered politeness.