![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ajremixThe last Come What May installment until after Otakon. When, hopefully, I'll have my brain back. And my time. And my room. And, for the love of God, my MONEY.
Title: Come What May – Odds Against
Fandom: Bleach
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1671
Characters: Ikkaku, Nemu, Rangiku
Summary: Following Rundown, Top of the Caste, Smile for Me, Setting Stages and Daily Reprieve. An experiment, if you will. What could and what won’t be.
Technically the exams were over. Well, for those that weren’t looking to get seats in other divisions. It took three days to complete the final exams, the class and the testing broken up into thirds. A third of the class would do their Demon Arts exam one day, written exam the next and the physical exam on the last. The fourth day was reserved for those that wanted officer spots in the Gotei-13. Assuming, of course, they were even accepted.
Nemu’s testing had gone over fairly well. She had received fairly high scores in both the written and Demon Arts portion and, the only reason she hadn’t done so well in the physical exam was because she was pitted against Kotetsu. Even though Nemu’s spirit level was above average, Kotetsu was one of the more physically capable females in the class, leaving the match up a little one-sided.
She was surprised, however, that Madarame had opted to try for a seat with the scores he had. But he looked so confidant in himself and hopeful in the outcome that when he had grabbed her shoulders and asked her in his loud, energetic way, Nemu found herself agreeing to cheer for him.
Quite a few of her classmates where at the training grounds, a good number of them not participating in the competition. From the looks of it, it was beginning to wind down, chattering excitedly about the anticipatory final bout. Nemu was lost in the back of the crowd when Matsumoto found her.
“Ha! So you did come!”
Nemu bowed her head in greeting, but her expression was confused. “I’m sorry?”
Matsumoto smiled, rubbing at her face with a sleeve. It came away ashy. “Ikkaku said you were going to come. I guess he can be right every once in a while.”
“Were you in the competition, too?”
“I was.” She said, taking her hair out of its loose ponytail. “Until that last match. Did you just get here?”
“Yes.”
“I was in the semis. Iba distracted me with a low-level blast spell. Hit me right in the face and he just came up and clonked me in the head.” She scowled to herself. “I’m going to get that bastard back.”
Nemu nodded politely. “And Madarame? How did he do?”
Matsumoto looked at her for a long second. “Come on.” She said, grabbing Nemu’s wrist. “Not like you can see a lot from back here, anyway.”
The match was ending as she dragged Nemu away, resulting in the two taking a wide turn to get to the next match. Along the way, Matsumoto asked, “You don’t mind if I ask you a couple things, do you?”
“No.” Nemu said.
“Good.” She stopped under a tree and turned toward Nemu. “I just want to make sure that Ikkaku isn’t planning on seducing you or anything.” Despite herself, Nemu’s eyebrows jumped. Which made Matsumoto snort. “He’s not actually going to, you know. He’s too straight forward and simple-minded to do anything like that.”
“Then… why would you say that?”
“Because.” Matsumoto placed her hands against her hips. “I’m a little worried that you two may end up too attached. We’re not even out of the academy yet and you’re father is a vice-captain. Even if he doesn’t call it that way, Ikkaku thinks he has to protect you from everyone. But the only division that would consider taking him in would be the 11th and your skills aren’t up to par for them.”
“I know.” Nemu said. “Mayuri-sama is going to request me into the 12th division, as it is.”
That made Matsumoto frown. “That’s another thing. From all the times your father’s watched over our field testing, he’s been rather hostile toward Ikkaku. He doesn’t approve of him, does he?”
Nemu lowered her head. “No.”
“And,” Matsumoto’s voice lowered, “he doesn’t seem to be a very kind person, either.”
Nemu’s eyes darkened and her hands tightened together. “He is my father. He treats me as he believes I deserve.”
“Except everyone else doesn’t think you deserve it. That means, unfortunately, you’re standing on a divide here. On one side is your father, probably your only family, right? On the other there’s Ikkaku. He’s no father figure, but he’s attentive. They won’t be able to survive each other’s presence. You have to chose one and leave the other behind. You realize that, don’t you?”
Nemu said nothing. Matsumoto ruffled her blonde hair and sighed.
“I’m not trying to lecture you and I don’t want to put you in a spot, Kurotsuchi. In the Rukongai, we take family and close relations very seriously. But for all his bluster, Ikkaku’s a good guy. Just think about your choices carefully, okay?” She reached out and squeezed Nemu’s upper arm gently. “The final match should be starting. I’ll see you there.”
But after Matsumoto left, Nemu stood under the tree, lost in thought. And there she stood through the entirety of the fight and the cheering riot at its end and it was there that Madarame eventually found her.
“Kurotsuchi! Oi!” She turned in time to get heavy hands clamping heavily around her shoulders. “Didja see didja see? I won! I’m at the top of the class in fighting skills!” Madarame was still a little out of breath and had a long, bloody scrape along the edge of his jaw that hadn’t been tended to. The red had already dried on his uniform.
“I’m sorry.” She told him earnestly. “I didn’t have a chance to watch.”
“Don’t worry about it. You’re here now and I can tell you all about it!” He puffed out his chest proudly, stepping back to give ample storytelling room. “Me an’ Iba, we’ve been fightin’ each other to get top spot for a while now. And then this chance comes along so, hell yeah! We take this time to prove who’s the best fighter in front of EVERY one. So we start and we’re both exhausted from other fights but- WHAM! He just comes down on me and starts wailin’ away and just about the only thing I could do was just block.”
He started pantomiming pounding down a sword on some invisible enemy, Nemu watched the dramatic reenactment with a warm smile. He danced back and forth, parrying and slashing and scuffling in circles when retelling of locked swords and letting off strange noises to indicate the use of Demon Arts.
“An’ then he shoves me away,” Madarame said, jumping back a good five feet, arms pulled to his side defensively, “and comes at me with a swipe to my back. I know he’s doin’ that ‘cause he wants me to drop my guard in front. I’ve seen him do that in other fights so he can set off a blast spell in my face. But this,” Madarame grins, “was what I’ve been trainin’ for since the beginning. I’ve gone out by myself after curfew, working on a fighting form just so I get to the top!
“So he plants his feet like this, swings in from the side and BAM, I block the stroke. But he’s been workin’ on this technique. Mixin’ swordplay with Demon Arts so his hand continues out and he’s already chantin’ for a level one spell.” He tells her, hand flying out in some movement for a spell he never cared to remember. “And he pulls back just enough and I see my chance! His chest is open and POW!” He jabbed his fist out. “Got my sheath half way in his fat gut!”
Nemu blinked. “Your sheath?”
At that, Madarame beamed. “Yeah! No one else ever used their sheath in a fight so I figure, ya know, I’ll just surprise the hell outta everyone! So now I got HIM on the run and every time he takes a swing, I block it with the sheath and jab him with the sword and- ow!” He hissed, jerking back slightly.
“I’m sorry.” Nemu replied, but didn’t move her hand away. She had pulled a handkerchief from her belt, using her thumb to gently rub off the blood that had dried against Madarame’s jaw. “That must have been a hard fight to draw blood with wooden practice swords.”
“Er, uh, yeah.” He suddenly stammered out, surprised at her move. “Gonna hurt in the mornin’, but it’s worth it.”
Nemu smiled, dabbing at the lines that reopened and slowly blossomed fresh blood. She held the handkerchief against his jaw. “You should get that cleaned.”
“Mmm.” He stood quietly before her and Nemu could feel his neck flex as he swallowed and his chest move with his breath. “Kurotsuchi,” Madarame’s voice came out thinly, forcing Nemu’s attention to his face. She was suddenly aware of his close proximity and took a half step backward, withdrawing her hand. Her movement bringing his own focus back, Madarame stood up straighter and licked his dry lips. “We’re, uh, not gonna be in the same division, are we?”
His sudden pessimism and the pained expression on his face made Nemu’s stomach plummet. It was later, scrutinizing that feeling, that she realized she didn’t want him to ever have that expression again. But it was that feeling, at that moment, that set her mouth at a thin line and caused her to let out an involuntary “Don’t…”
“But, ah,” Madarame took a couple steps back, himself, pulling on a bad imitation of his usual energy, “it’s not like it’s the end of the world, right? I mean, we still got a week before we actually graduate and we can still talk to each other. Won’t be all that easy but we’re friends, so…” his rambling faded out and he took another step away. “I’ll… I’ll see you later, okay, Kurotsuchi?”
He waved and jogged off. Nemu’s raised hand fell to her side as she watched him go. But despite his assurance, that pain never eased from his expression and Nemu felt as if this would be the last time she saw him as a friend.
Title: Come What May – Odds Against
Fandom: Bleach
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1671
Characters: Ikkaku, Nemu, Rangiku
Summary: Following Rundown, Top of the Caste, Smile for Me, Setting Stages and Daily Reprieve. An experiment, if you will. What could and what won’t be.
Technically the exams were over. Well, for those that weren’t looking to get seats in other divisions. It took three days to complete the final exams, the class and the testing broken up into thirds. A third of the class would do their Demon Arts exam one day, written exam the next and the physical exam on the last. The fourth day was reserved for those that wanted officer spots in the Gotei-13. Assuming, of course, they were even accepted.
Nemu’s testing had gone over fairly well. She had received fairly high scores in both the written and Demon Arts portion and, the only reason she hadn’t done so well in the physical exam was because she was pitted against Kotetsu. Even though Nemu’s spirit level was above average, Kotetsu was one of the more physically capable females in the class, leaving the match up a little one-sided.
She was surprised, however, that Madarame had opted to try for a seat with the scores he had. But he looked so confidant in himself and hopeful in the outcome that when he had grabbed her shoulders and asked her in his loud, energetic way, Nemu found herself agreeing to cheer for him.
Quite a few of her classmates where at the training grounds, a good number of them not participating in the competition. From the looks of it, it was beginning to wind down, chattering excitedly about the anticipatory final bout. Nemu was lost in the back of the crowd when Matsumoto found her.
“Ha! So you did come!”
Nemu bowed her head in greeting, but her expression was confused. “I’m sorry?”
Matsumoto smiled, rubbing at her face with a sleeve. It came away ashy. “Ikkaku said you were going to come. I guess he can be right every once in a while.”
“Were you in the competition, too?”
“I was.” She said, taking her hair out of its loose ponytail. “Until that last match. Did you just get here?”
“Yes.”
“I was in the semis. Iba distracted me with a low-level blast spell. Hit me right in the face and he just came up and clonked me in the head.” She scowled to herself. “I’m going to get that bastard back.”
Nemu nodded politely. “And Madarame? How did he do?”
Matsumoto looked at her for a long second. “Come on.” She said, grabbing Nemu’s wrist. “Not like you can see a lot from back here, anyway.”
The match was ending as she dragged Nemu away, resulting in the two taking a wide turn to get to the next match. Along the way, Matsumoto asked, “You don’t mind if I ask you a couple things, do you?”
“No.” Nemu said.
“Good.” She stopped under a tree and turned toward Nemu. “I just want to make sure that Ikkaku isn’t planning on seducing you or anything.” Despite herself, Nemu’s eyebrows jumped. Which made Matsumoto snort. “He’s not actually going to, you know. He’s too straight forward and simple-minded to do anything like that.”
“Then… why would you say that?”
“Because.” Matsumoto placed her hands against her hips. “I’m a little worried that you two may end up too attached. We’re not even out of the academy yet and you’re father is a vice-captain. Even if he doesn’t call it that way, Ikkaku thinks he has to protect you from everyone. But the only division that would consider taking him in would be the 11th and your skills aren’t up to par for them.”
“I know.” Nemu said. “Mayuri-sama is going to request me into the 12th division, as it is.”
That made Matsumoto frown. “That’s another thing. From all the times your father’s watched over our field testing, he’s been rather hostile toward Ikkaku. He doesn’t approve of him, does he?”
Nemu lowered her head. “No.”
“And,” Matsumoto’s voice lowered, “he doesn’t seem to be a very kind person, either.”
Nemu’s eyes darkened and her hands tightened together. “He is my father. He treats me as he believes I deserve.”
“Except everyone else doesn’t think you deserve it. That means, unfortunately, you’re standing on a divide here. On one side is your father, probably your only family, right? On the other there’s Ikkaku. He’s no father figure, but he’s attentive. They won’t be able to survive each other’s presence. You have to chose one and leave the other behind. You realize that, don’t you?”
Nemu said nothing. Matsumoto ruffled her blonde hair and sighed.
“I’m not trying to lecture you and I don’t want to put you in a spot, Kurotsuchi. In the Rukongai, we take family and close relations very seriously. But for all his bluster, Ikkaku’s a good guy. Just think about your choices carefully, okay?” She reached out and squeezed Nemu’s upper arm gently. “The final match should be starting. I’ll see you there.”
But after Matsumoto left, Nemu stood under the tree, lost in thought. And there she stood through the entirety of the fight and the cheering riot at its end and it was there that Madarame eventually found her.
“Kurotsuchi! Oi!” She turned in time to get heavy hands clamping heavily around her shoulders. “Didja see didja see? I won! I’m at the top of the class in fighting skills!” Madarame was still a little out of breath and had a long, bloody scrape along the edge of his jaw that hadn’t been tended to. The red had already dried on his uniform.
“I’m sorry.” She told him earnestly. “I didn’t have a chance to watch.”
“Don’t worry about it. You’re here now and I can tell you all about it!” He puffed out his chest proudly, stepping back to give ample storytelling room. “Me an’ Iba, we’ve been fightin’ each other to get top spot for a while now. And then this chance comes along so, hell yeah! We take this time to prove who’s the best fighter in front of EVERY one. So we start and we’re both exhausted from other fights but- WHAM! He just comes down on me and starts wailin’ away and just about the only thing I could do was just block.”
He started pantomiming pounding down a sword on some invisible enemy, Nemu watched the dramatic reenactment with a warm smile. He danced back and forth, parrying and slashing and scuffling in circles when retelling of locked swords and letting off strange noises to indicate the use of Demon Arts.
“An’ then he shoves me away,” Madarame said, jumping back a good five feet, arms pulled to his side defensively, “and comes at me with a swipe to my back. I know he’s doin’ that ‘cause he wants me to drop my guard in front. I’ve seen him do that in other fights so he can set off a blast spell in my face. But this,” Madarame grins, “was what I’ve been trainin’ for since the beginning. I’ve gone out by myself after curfew, working on a fighting form just so I get to the top!
“So he plants his feet like this, swings in from the side and BAM, I block the stroke. But he’s been workin’ on this technique. Mixin’ swordplay with Demon Arts so his hand continues out and he’s already chantin’ for a level one spell.” He tells her, hand flying out in some movement for a spell he never cared to remember. “And he pulls back just enough and I see my chance! His chest is open and POW!” He jabbed his fist out. “Got my sheath half way in his fat gut!”
Nemu blinked. “Your sheath?”
At that, Madarame beamed. “Yeah! No one else ever used their sheath in a fight so I figure, ya know, I’ll just surprise the hell outta everyone! So now I got HIM on the run and every time he takes a swing, I block it with the sheath and jab him with the sword and- ow!” He hissed, jerking back slightly.
“I’m sorry.” Nemu replied, but didn’t move her hand away. She had pulled a handkerchief from her belt, using her thumb to gently rub off the blood that had dried against Madarame’s jaw. “That must have been a hard fight to draw blood with wooden practice swords.”
“Er, uh, yeah.” He suddenly stammered out, surprised at her move. “Gonna hurt in the mornin’, but it’s worth it.”
Nemu smiled, dabbing at the lines that reopened and slowly blossomed fresh blood. She held the handkerchief against his jaw. “You should get that cleaned.”
“Mmm.” He stood quietly before her and Nemu could feel his neck flex as he swallowed and his chest move with his breath. “Kurotsuchi,” Madarame’s voice came out thinly, forcing Nemu’s attention to his face. She was suddenly aware of his close proximity and took a half step backward, withdrawing her hand. Her movement bringing his own focus back, Madarame stood up straighter and licked his dry lips. “We’re, uh, not gonna be in the same division, are we?”
His sudden pessimism and the pained expression on his face made Nemu’s stomach plummet. It was later, scrutinizing that feeling, that she realized she didn’t want him to ever have that expression again. But it was that feeling, at that moment, that set her mouth at a thin line and caused her to let out an involuntary “Don’t…”
“But, ah,” Madarame took a couple steps back, himself, pulling on a bad imitation of his usual energy, “it’s not like it’s the end of the world, right? I mean, we still got a week before we actually graduate and we can still talk to each other. Won’t be all that easy but we’re friends, so…” his rambling faded out and he took another step away. “I’ll… I’ll see you later, okay, Kurotsuchi?”
He waved and jogged off. Nemu’s raised hand fell to her side as she watched him go. But despite his assurance, that pain never eased from his expression and Nemu felt as if this would be the last time she saw him as a friend.
