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ajremixNow... take a look at my horrible, horrible poetry skills.
Title: Come What May – Smile for Me
Fandom: Bleach
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1083
Characters: Ikkaku, Nemu with Matsumoto
Summary: Following Rundown and Top of the Caste. An experiment, if you will. A literary device.
It took some time and persuasion for Madarame to get some time off from his other friends in order to hang around Nemu. Which was an infinitely good thing. It gave Nemu time to dwell on the situation (and she became increasingly aware that mayuri-sama wasn’t going to like it) and kept her from having to be overwhelmed with loud and unruly testosterone.
Sometimes he’d come by to her seat between classes or meet up with her after the day was over. And sometimes he’d even spend lunch with her but every attempt at conversation was short lived as every response Nemu gave was short and direct and she made no attempt to expound on herself. A part of her had hoped that this would deter Madarame from sticking to her before Mayuri-sama found out.
And yet Madarame still stood by her and talked to her and pried out every bit of information he could, as if he were working at a knot that was blocking the flow of water in a hose. If he found the right bit to pull, he hoped that she would unravel and open up.
It was during one of his experimental prattling that she made a mistake. He had been telling her amusing little stories and anecdotes from his past and that in a previous life he was a Buddhist monk and that’s why he kept his head shaved. He took her silence as disbelief and said he’d prove it with a profound poem that he’d make up on the spot.
At his badly constructed spiel of the balance of sunlight on grass, Nemu was horrified to find herself beginning to laugh at him. She turned her head and hid her smile behind a hand, hoping to keep from insulting him with her mirth. A moment later, Madarame sidled in front of her again.
“What’s the matter?” He asked, “Somethin’ wrong?”
“Not at all,” came the prim reply. She had to take her hand down a moment before she had the smile under control and Madarame saw the barely upturned edges.
He jabbed an accusing finger at her. “You were smilin’!” Then, to Nemu’s surprise, jumped up and whoop. “I made you smile!” He posed, one hand outstretched, the other against his chest and cried out:
“Her smile so like
a butterfly wing
flit here and flit gone!”
Her lips twitched again, amused at his passionate butchering, but when she tried to hide her smile again, Madarame caught her hand and grinned.
“Don’t hide that fact you think my poetry sucks. I don’t know a damn thing about poetry.”
And once that sentence sunk in Nemu couldn’t help but laugh, her hand warm in his.
~*~*~*~
From that time on, Ikkaku would write out little slips of meaningless haikus for her, pointless and misconstructed. And when it became apparent that the novelty it was beginning to wear, he began to study plays and literature, doing dramatic readings with flare so proportionally out of place he once had Kurotsuchi crying with laughter.
One time, sitting down in the grass during lunch, catching his breath after reenacting a scene between Genji and a concubine (in which he played both parts), Ikkaku watched her mirth flushed face and something made him say, “You’re beautiful when you smile.”
Kurotsuchi’s face immediately closed up and she packed up her small bento. “I’m going back to the classroom.” She told him. Standing up, she bowed lightly to him and quickly walked off.
Ikkaku watched her go, irreparably confused.
~*~*~*~
For the next few days she didn’t talk to him. Well, no, whenever Ikkaku approached her, she would just give a few curt responses and would ignore him after she figured she had been polite enough. It got to the point where Matsumoto (who everyone in class went to for advice) had gone up to him to told him to just apologize.
“Apologize?” Ikkaku asked. “For what?”
“Whatever you did to make her wary around you, obviously.” Matsumoto replied.
“I don’t even know WHAT I did!”
She sighed and put a hand to her face. “That’s generally the problem all men have. But usually, if you think real hard, you can figure out what it was.”
Brow furrowing in thought, Ikkaku said, “The last thing that happened… I was tellin’ her a story to make her laugh. And then I told her I thought she was beautiful when she smiled.”
Matsumoto’s eyebrows jumped. “You told her that?”
He looked up at her warily. “Yeah…”
“Word for word?”
“Yeah, why?”
Covering her face with a groan, Matsumoto told him. “You can’t just outright say that to a girl unless she feels the same way about you.”
“Feel like what?”
“She’s probably under the impression that you have a crush on her, now. And she obviously doesn’t feel the same way or doesn’t want to get caught up in a relationship right now.”
Ikkaku waved his hands around. “Whoa, whoa, wait! She thinks I got a crush on her?”
“Do you?” She asked lowly. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with her.”
“I’m tryin’ to get her to be a little more sociable for one thing!” Ikkaku snarled. “And I wanna make sure no one’s gonna be walkin’ all over her for another!”
“Well congratulations. You know what you did wrong and now you can apologize.”
“I ain’t gonna apologize!” He said indignantly. “I was being honest! She IS beautiful when she smiles- I’m not apologizing for that!”
“Well if you’re not going to apologize,” the other student said shortly, “then stop sulking.”
“Who’s sulking?”
“You, obviously, or I wouldn’t be here talking to you.”
“Feh! Like I need advice from you.” Ikkaku turned away imperiously. “I can deal with my own problems. ON my own.”
“Right.” Matsumoto said slowly. “I’m sure you can.”
~*~*~*~
That day, coming in from lunch, Nemu saw a note on her desk. Scribbled inside was a short poem:
Sorry my honesty
frightened you away
shall we try again?
Looking around, she saw Madarame giving her a repentant grin. She looked down at the poem again and couldn’t keep from smiling.
Once she had sat down, Ikkaku leaned back with a sigh of relief. And then a ball of paper hit him in the head. Scowling and scooping it up from the ground it read:
I’m expecting a thank you for the advice.
Ikkaku looked at Matsumoto and scowled. She just smiled in return.
Title: Come What May – Smile for Me
Fandom: Bleach
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1083
Characters: Ikkaku, Nemu with Matsumoto
Summary: Following Rundown and Top of the Caste. An experiment, if you will. A literary device.
It took some time and persuasion for Madarame to get some time off from his other friends in order to hang around Nemu. Which was an infinitely good thing. It gave Nemu time to dwell on the situation (and she became increasingly aware that mayuri-sama wasn’t going to like it) and kept her from having to be overwhelmed with loud and unruly testosterone.
Sometimes he’d come by to her seat between classes or meet up with her after the day was over. And sometimes he’d even spend lunch with her but every attempt at conversation was short lived as every response Nemu gave was short and direct and she made no attempt to expound on herself. A part of her had hoped that this would deter Madarame from sticking to her before Mayuri-sama found out.
And yet Madarame still stood by her and talked to her and pried out every bit of information he could, as if he were working at a knot that was blocking the flow of water in a hose. If he found the right bit to pull, he hoped that she would unravel and open up.
It was during one of his experimental prattling that she made a mistake. He had been telling her amusing little stories and anecdotes from his past and that in a previous life he was a Buddhist monk and that’s why he kept his head shaved. He took her silence as disbelief and said he’d prove it with a profound poem that he’d make up on the spot.
At his badly constructed spiel of the balance of sunlight on grass, Nemu was horrified to find herself beginning to laugh at him. She turned her head and hid her smile behind a hand, hoping to keep from insulting him with her mirth. A moment later, Madarame sidled in front of her again.
“What’s the matter?” He asked, “Somethin’ wrong?”
“Not at all,” came the prim reply. She had to take her hand down a moment before she had the smile under control and Madarame saw the barely upturned edges.
He jabbed an accusing finger at her. “You were smilin’!” Then, to Nemu’s surprise, jumped up and whoop. “I made you smile!” He posed, one hand outstretched, the other against his chest and cried out:
“Her smile so like
a butterfly wing
flit here and flit gone!”
Her lips twitched again, amused at his passionate butchering, but when she tried to hide her smile again, Madarame caught her hand and grinned.
“Don’t hide that fact you think my poetry sucks. I don’t know a damn thing about poetry.”
And once that sentence sunk in Nemu couldn’t help but laugh, her hand warm in his.
~*~*~*~
From that time on, Ikkaku would write out little slips of meaningless haikus for her, pointless and misconstructed. And when it became apparent that the novelty it was beginning to wear, he began to study plays and literature, doing dramatic readings with flare so proportionally out of place he once had Kurotsuchi crying with laughter.
One time, sitting down in the grass during lunch, catching his breath after reenacting a scene between Genji and a concubine (in which he played both parts), Ikkaku watched her mirth flushed face and something made him say, “You’re beautiful when you smile.”
Kurotsuchi’s face immediately closed up and she packed up her small bento. “I’m going back to the classroom.” She told him. Standing up, she bowed lightly to him and quickly walked off.
Ikkaku watched her go, irreparably confused.
~*~*~*~
For the next few days she didn’t talk to him. Well, no, whenever Ikkaku approached her, she would just give a few curt responses and would ignore him after she figured she had been polite enough. It got to the point where Matsumoto (who everyone in class went to for advice) had gone up to him to told him to just apologize.
“Apologize?” Ikkaku asked. “For what?”
“Whatever you did to make her wary around you, obviously.” Matsumoto replied.
“I don’t even know WHAT I did!”
She sighed and put a hand to her face. “That’s generally the problem all men have. But usually, if you think real hard, you can figure out what it was.”
Brow furrowing in thought, Ikkaku said, “The last thing that happened… I was tellin’ her a story to make her laugh. And then I told her I thought she was beautiful when she smiled.”
Matsumoto’s eyebrows jumped. “You told her that?”
He looked up at her warily. “Yeah…”
“Word for word?”
“Yeah, why?”
Covering her face with a groan, Matsumoto told him. “You can’t just outright say that to a girl unless she feels the same way about you.”
“Feel like what?”
“She’s probably under the impression that you have a crush on her, now. And she obviously doesn’t feel the same way or doesn’t want to get caught up in a relationship right now.”
Ikkaku waved his hands around. “Whoa, whoa, wait! She thinks I got a crush on her?”
“Do you?” She asked lowly. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with her.”
“I’m tryin’ to get her to be a little more sociable for one thing!” Ikkaku snarled. “And I wanna make sure no one’s gonna be walkin’ all over her for another!”
“Well congratulations. You know what you did wrong and now you can apologize.”
“I ain’t gonna apologize!” He said indignantly. “I was being honest! She IS beautiful when she smiles- I’m not apologizing for that!”
“Well if you’re not going to apologize,” the other student said shortly, “then stop sulking.”
“Who’s sulking?”
“You, obviously, or I wouldn’t be here talking to you.”
“Feh! Like I need advice from you.” Ikkaku turned away imperiously. “I can deal with my own problems. ON my own.”
“Right.” Matsumoto said slowly. “I’m sure you can.”
~*~*~*~
That day, coming in from lunch, Nemu saw a note on her desk. Scribbled inside was a short poem:
Sorry my honesty
frightened you away
shall we try again?
Looking around, she saw Madarame giving her a repentant grin. She looked down at the poem again and couldn’t keep from smiling.
Once she had sat down, Ikkaku leaned back with a sigh of relief. And then a ball of paper hit him in the head. Scowling and scooping it up from the ground it read:
I’m expecting a thank you for the advice.
Ikkaku looked at Matsumoto and scowled. She just smiled in return.
