Title: The Span of a Relationship
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Ikkaku x Nemu
Rating: PG-13 for some hints and swearing
Summary: A series of short drabbles using 10 of the themes at ikkanemu
For Virgo for inspiring the masses
Disclaimer: I am not Kubo Tite, thus I do not own Bleach. I do not own these characters. I am only borrowing them for my own enjoyment.
1. Molding to expectations
She would never say anything bad about her father. It was not her place to be critical of the man who had created her. No, it was his place to be critical of her. She fell so far from the perfection he'd planned for her.
Each day was an experiment in her adaptability. Each day she tested how far she could push herself, how much she could change. Not a day went by when she didn't try to mold to Mayuri-sama's expectations.
When she'd first began to spend time with Ikkaku, she'd tried to discern what he wanted most. She subtlety prodded his speech, studied his body language, attempting to learn what he wanted from her. She wanted him to like her. Mayuri-sama only liked her when she behaved as he wanted her to.
But Ikkaku frustrated her. She'd mastered the art of reading people to discover their hidden intentions--she could read body language, hear the unspoken words that every person invariably held back. But with Ikkaku...
She watched him, slight panic rising in her stomach. She was failing--she didn't know how to behave to please him, and it would inevitably make him dislike her.
He blinked at her, brow furrowing. "Ne, Kurotsuchi-fukataichou? Why're ya makin' that face?"
She blinked, looking away quickly, the nails of her fingers digging into the knuckles of her other hand as she held them clasped in front of her. Her teeth worried at her lower lip as she tried to figure out how to read him.
She was startled to feel rough fingers lightly touch her chin, tilting her head until her eyes met his again. His thumb brushed her chin, his nail scraping over the edge of her lower lip, coaxing her teeth to release its prisoner.
"Kurotsuchi-fukataichou, why're ya holdin' back?"
She blinked, swallowing before she answered, trying to pull her focus from the gentle grip on her chin. "I am...holding back?"
"Yeah, ya are. Why?"
She took a deep breath. Lying was not something she'd ever done. She would not start now.
"I am trying to figure out what you expect of me, Madarame-san."
He frowned slightly, his fingers lightly caressing the corner of her mouth. "Wha'dya mean? I don't expect nothin' from ya."
"I want to make you happy, Mada--"
"Kurotsuchi-fukataichou...ya don't hafta do anythin' ta please me. Just be yourself."
She blinked up at him, and wondered why that simple phrase meant so much to her.
2. Slip of the tongue
At the end of the vice-captain meeting she lingered, watching as he laughed and joked with the vice-captain of the 7th division. She smiled to herself, his laughter infectious as he slapped Iba on the back, shaking his head.
He looked up and caught her smile, grinning broadly at the sight of it. He met her gaze and held it until she looked away, color blossoming over her cheeks. Saying good-bye to Iba he moved across the room, joining her.
"Ne, Nemu? Somethin' wrong?" He watched her, waiting, and there it was: her cheeks deepended to a crimson hue and she looked at him, eyes wide.
"Madarame-san, you shouldn't address me in that manner in public." Her voice was low, her tone slightly alarmed. She feared what might happen if anyone suspected what went on between herself and the 3rd seat of the 11th division.
"Slip of the tongue." He followed her as she left the building, putting a hand on the small of her back and dragging her between two buildings, pressing her against the wall and cupping her cheek. The pad of his thumb traced the hot curve of her cheek.
"Madarame-san--"
He kissed her, tongue sliding between her lips and exploring her mouth as if it were the first time he'd done so. He heard her gasp and cupped the back of her head, fingers splaying and sliding down her neck, claiming her mouth possessively.
"...Ikkaku..."
3. A Dim Light
He'd gotten into the habit of leaving a small light on in his room. Not for any fear of the dark, of course--Ikkaku didn't mind the dark. It was very supportive of sleep, he found. What was there to fear in the dark? Ikkaku, like any good warrior, relied on more than just his eyes to sense his enemies. Being blinded hardly fazed him. He was, by nature, a light sleeper, and thus found nothing to be nervous about when the night wiped out the sun.
No, the dim light was not for himself. He'd discovered, on accident, that Nemu, when she couldn't sleep--which was often--would walk from the 12th to the 11th division. He might never have discovered this, if he hadn't been up late one night doing paperwork, a light blazing on his desk so that he could see his brush move over the paper.
He'd sensed her reiatsu before she'd taped on his window. Curious, wondering if she was hurt, he padded over and opened it, blinking down at her.
"Ne, Nemu? Whacha doin' up so late?"
She looked up at him, her expression a little sadder than normal, and asked softly if he was busy.
It never occurred to him to tell her that he was working as he shook his head, asking if she wanted to come in. And, to his surprise, instead of entering the building and coming in through his door, she'd placed her hands on his windowsill and climbed into his room.
"I'm sorry...it's just, your light was on..."
He'd blinked and sat with her, neither of them saying anything. She leaned against him, her head light on his shoulder, her body seeming even smaller against his own. He'd put his arm around her, a little awkwardly, and held her to him until she shook her head, stood, and wordlessly climbed back out his window.
No, the dim light was not for himself. The light was a beacon, should she need it. So that she'd know that, for her, he was always awake.
4. Defy Sense
The 11th division was more than aware of Ikkaku and Nemu's relationship. They also knew better than to say anything to anyone outside of the division, or even speak about it when someone outside the division might possibly overhear. If word ever got out that Ikkaku was banging the 12th division captain's prized daughter, Ikkaku would make damn sure that person died long before Kurotsuchi even had the chance to draw his blade.
In those few instances where 11th division members thought it was safe--or were merely feeling brave and/or stupid--they wondered how Ikkaku had landed Nemu.
It defied sense.
Nemu was so quiet, so withdrawn. She spoke quietly, held herself inward, and never did anything unless ordered to. She was like a zanpakuto--held in check by the person who wielded her, released only on his command, with a voice that only he could hear.
Ikkaku, on the other hand, was none of these things. In fact, if anyone ever described Ikkaku as quiet or withdrawn, then were obvious delusional. Ikkaku had never once in his life been withdrawn. And he was more than happy to do anything, ordered to or not. In fact, depending on the order, he may or may not do it anyway.
Not that he didn't listen to Zaraki-taichou, they were quick to add. No, Ikkaku respected their captain more than any other person. On the rare occasions Zaraki felt the need to convey an order, Ikkaku was quick to carry it out.
This trait did not carry over when it came to other captains, however.
Not only were their personalities so polar opposite, but anyone could see that Nemu was far out of Ikkaku's league. Granted, the shinigami wasn't hard on the eyes, but there's no way he rated high enough to snag someone like Nemu. The vice-captain of the 12th division was fodder for many fantasies among male shinigami, especially considering the uniform she wore. With legs like that, how could you not--
It was inevitable that around this time Ikkaku would show up and overhear the 11th division members discussing the various desirable parts of Nemu's body. And it was inevitable that he beat them so far into the ground that they needed a ladder to get out.
Why the 11th division continued to gossip like this is unknown. It defied sense.
5. Louder than Words
Ikkaku was not the kind of guy to hold anything back. If he was happy, he let it show. If he was annoyed, he had no qualms about expressing that emotion. Ikkaku was the furthest thing from an enigma--he didn't have the faintest idea how to be discrete. He was loud, verbal, and extroverted. He was animated and perfectly comfortable being himself. More than anything, he valued these qualities in others--these were the kind of people he was most comfortable around. People that were as loud, as rowdy, as rambunctious as he was. He knew where he stood with these types, and he liked that.
It was part of the reason he was both intrigued and off-balance with Nemu. She said so little, expressed so few emotions, that he was never truly sure what she was thinking. Her features, trained after years of abuse to give nothing away, gave him no clue how she received him. Her voice was always quiet, always demure, and her words were, if possible, even more secretive than her silence.
Yet, when she traced her fingers down his jaw and feathered her lips over his, her tiny body pressing against his under the protection of the shadows, stealing away his breath and heart and soul, he found that, sometimes, actions were much louder than words.
6. Confidence
Watching the vice captain of the 12th division walk sedately behind her father, one would never suspect the confidence she was capable of wielding.
No one would suspect that the tiny hands that clasped demurely in front of her could possessively scrape down a scarred, muscled chest. Who would guess that lips that barely formed a sound throughout the day could claim, nibble, tease, tempt, and cry out with unabashed passion?
To look at Kurotsuchi Nemu was to see a withdrawn beauty, one that would never be capable of pressing his large, lean body up against the wall and devouring him with the voracious appetite of the minx she didn't seem to be but most certainly was.
If anyone was ever asked about the vice-captain, the answer was always that Nemu was shy, reserved, and lacking in confidence.
Only the 3rd seat of the 11th division knew the confidence she was capable of wielding, when she truly wanted to.
7. She is my sin
Ikkaku had always sworn that he would never let anything make him weak. Long ago, when he'd first become a shinigami, he's sworn on his zanpakuto that he would be strong.
Lying next to her, feeling her flushed body pressed to his, the fan of her breath raising goose bumps over his damp flesh, he realized that he'd broken his own rule. When it came to her, he was weak. He could not stand to see her unhappy. He would not allow anyone to hurt her. He'd throw his life down if it meant to protect her. And while that might not have made him weak, he knew that she held power over him. A smile, a glance, a soft caress of her fingers and he was at her mercy, his knees weak, his breath gone, his soul forever in her possession. When it came to Kurotsuchi Nemu, he had no strength to fight her.
He'd laid down only one rule for himself, and for her, he broke it without a second thought. When she pressed herself against him, all thoughts of his previous commandment were lost in the feel of her heart pounding against his chest.
For her, he sinned.
8. Yours, not his
It was one of the few things they argued about.
"Your life is yours, not his."
"He gave it to me. How can it be mine?"
"'Cause...'cause it's yours! Ta do with as ya please! Ya shouldn't let him control ya like he does!"
And every time he said this her eyes would sadden, and she'd sink down to the ground, hands folded in her lap, looking at her fingers as they twisted and pulled at themselves. And every time she did, he felt his heart clench, because he knew he'd hurt her, somehow. He'd vowed to himself that he would never hurt her--he would be her haven, her harbor, her rock, her anchor.
He'd fall to his knees and hold her against him, smoothing his hand over the silky hair at the back of her head.
And then, one night, with her face buried in his chest, tears at the edge of her sad eyes, she murmured something to him that very nearly broke his heart.
"I wish I could take my life from his control. I'm sorry, Ikkaku...sorry that I cannot be strong, like you. I'm sorry...that I disappoint you."
9. Silent Scream
He never pressed for her to tell him what drove her to him that night. He didn't ask why she suddenly knocked on his window, her eyes darker than usual, trembling despite the humidity of the night. He wanted to, but he didn't inquire about the bruised look of her mouth, the broken skin of her neck, the tender flesh of her legs and arms and back. He didn't ask, because he knew, instinctively, that she could not answer him.
He cradled her fragile body against his and listened to her silently scream her anguish.
10. Loyalty to Whom?
She'd been loyal to one man all her life. The man who gave her life, the one who'd fixed her soul to her body, the person responsible for her entire being. He was quick to remind her that she owed him at least her loyalty for all he'd done for her. Her unquestioned, unwavering loyalty was expected, payment for the debt she could never repay. The debt of her life that she owed to Kurotsuchi Mayuri, genius of the 12th division.
She'd never thought to allow herself to feel loyalty to another. Such a thing would only complicate matters. However, as time passed, she found that her loyalty began to split. At first the split was uneven--the majority of her loyalty remained firmly in the possession of her father.
However...little by little, her loyalty began to shift. And before she knew it, without her permission or realization, her loyalty was split evenly, straight down the middle, between the monster and the man.
And now, watching as the man and the monster stared one another down, knowing she had to do something to stop them from killing one another (she didn't know whose death she feared more, his or his), she has to decide.
The man...or the monster?
Taking a deep breath she decides.