BREATH OF LIFE
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or Tokyo Ghoul. Or the songs mentioned from this point onwards. Kudos to people who recognize the songs, though.
Shout Out: My eyebrows are raised right now. Just out of curiosity - how many of you actually recognize the songs mentioned at the beginning of the snippets? And do feel free to suggest some new tracks.
Warnings: AU-verse, SLASH; Ichigo and Arima bonding before the mess in the Seireitei.
011 - All The Small Things
"Arima. Why. Are You. Not. Eating. Properly?"
Arima looked up from the latest report he was writing for his superiors into seriously pissed-off brown eyes of the person that was his best friend.
They were on the school's roof, enjoying the pleasant warmth of the sun on their skin. It was as if the Lantern fiasco hadn't happened, and the two boys were just a pair of regular high schoolers taking advantage of their lunch break.
"I am not hungry. Honestly." Arima responded, before returning his gaze back to the report only to have it snatched away.
"Hey!" He snapped, scowling at the orange menace that held the papers he was working on hostage.
"Don't you 'hey' me, you bastard!" Ichigo snapped back, scowling thunderously. "I have a valid reason but you are straight out starving yourself!"
Arima winced.
"I… forgot?" He offered, but even to him, his voice didn't sound certain.
And Ichigo knew it, too, if his narrowed gaze was any indication.
"That's it. You are coming with me."
Arima blinked owlishly.
After the classes, the blue-haired teen found himself trailing behind the scowling and grumbling form of his friend in the nearby supermarket where he snatched the ingredients he needed before they were once again on the streets, braving the afternoon crowd on their way to Ichigo's apartment.
"Why do you care?" Arima couldn't help himself but ask.
He had been raised as a weapon, Arima knew that much.
He had comrades, an end goal and supervisors.
The white of the room he was assigned to, mint-pale examination robes, blood and questions and answers and praise aside and the dull everyday schedule shattered by an occasional – but now increasingly more frequent - missions.
"Why shouldn't I? Ichigo bit back. "Isn't that what friends do?"
Arima stumbled.
Ichigo considered them friends?
"Eh?!" He didn't just squawk.
He felt his cheeks heat with mortification.
Arima was not a squawking sort of person.
"But – "
"If you are trying to tell me we can't be friends because you are CCG and I am technically your prey, well, then that's too bad." Ichigo snapped back as he strode forward, forcing Arima to hurry after him.
Arima was sure his face was now hot enough to cook an egg or two.
"No, I didn't mean that!" He denied, bashfully lowering his gaze away from those blazing brown eyes. "But… Thanks."
Ichigo blinked.
"Oh… Are you blushing now?" The orange-haired teen was now smirking impishly at him, causing the CCG reaper to cough with embarrassment.
Arima glared. "Shut up!"
Ichigo's apartment reminded Arima of his own sparsely furnishing place. But while Arima's little abode was all white and black (with some chrome thrown in), Ichigo's was an eclectic mixture of colors. Earthy brown linoleum floor, cream-colored walls with the papers with kiddy drawings being scattered here and there, and an occasional motorbike poster interrupting the theme. On the windowsill, there was a pair of cacti, one in a full bloom, its orange flowers enlivening the small space.
It was not the environment Arima would have expected a ghoul to live in.
Shows how much he knew about his … friend.
The kitchenette was a cross between the kitchen and a small living room, if it could be even called that. The walls were colored in a butter yellow paint that contrasted with the light gray and dull white of the furniture. There were small scratches and scuffles on the surface, giving the room a lived in feel which made Arima feel both at home and disquieted.
"Dig in."
Arima looked up from the report he was pretending to examine for faults for the n-th time at the plate that was placed in front of him. He had offered to help Ichigo to prepare the food, but Ichigo rebuffed him - he was the host, so Arima would just have to sit his ass down on the chair and wait for the food.
'Curry rice.' Arima inhaled the aroma. It was slightly spicy yet sweet, which was unexpected, as he knew that to ghouls, normal food seemed to be alike garbage, both scent and taste-wise.
He placed the report aside and took up the spoon.
"Thanks for the food." He muttered before digging in. Mercury colored eyes widened with surprise.
The taste exploded on his tongue. The soft, mellow rice, accentuated by the curry which was both sweet and slightly sour, prompting him to scoop another spoonful.
How could Ichigo cook so well?
Arima's stomach growled with approval, causing him to concentrate on his meal.
Food now, questions later.
"It was delicious." Arima complimented the cook who was sipping his cup of coffee languidly as he sat opposite him.
Ichigo snorted. "Deliciously disgusting, maybe." Brown eyes flickered up to Arima's face before looking out through the window.
The young investigator got a feeling that Ichigo didn't deal well with being complimented. He wondered why. The food Ichigo put in front of him was perfectly edible, which was no small feat, considering that Ichigo was a ghoul and couldn't taste the human food right, courtesy of his screwed up biology.
But that wasn't the only problem, Arima noted to himself silently. For some reason, Ichigo was deprecating of his abilities, be that mental or physical ones. It was like Ichigo didn't even value himself.
Lowering his eyes, Arima pondered about his new, yet old revelation.
Ichigo was a strange conundrum. Rebel, yet not. Ghoul, yet not conforming to the whims of his species. Strangely, Ichigo wasn't a member of any of the packs that ran through Tokyo, yet he wasn't a lone wolf either. He knew what Arima was - an enemy of ghouls - yet he acted like he cared about Arima's health and by proxy, Arima himself.
How long was since someone truly cared for Arima Kishou as a person, and not only as prodigy or weapon?
Too long.
Blinking his eyes, Arima forced the tears back and he hid his smile behind another mouthful of piping hot, delicious curry.
People tried to impress the young CCG investigator with gear and grand things.
It was interesting, that the ones that reached Arima, were small ones, like an afternoon meal in the den of his ghoul friend, one Kurosaki Ichigo.
/To Be Continued/