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ajremixTitle: Give Till it Hurts
Fandom: Bleach
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 574
Characters: Ikkaku, Renji, briefly Ichigo
Summary: Minor spoilers up to 206. In which discussing Ikkaku’s ‘training tactics’ with Renji gives birth to this.
“So you’re the new guy, huh?”
Renji looked up, surprised to see someone sitting on one of the 11th division roofs. He shifted his bag on his shoulder, not certain what to think of him. “Yeah, I am.”
“Yeah? That all your belongings an’ shit?”
“Yeah…”
“Hmmm.” The man just sat there and smirked at him for a moment. Suddenly, the next thing Renji knew, the heel of a foot was crushing his nose and the ground didn’t take kindly to the back of his head.
After the stars faded out of his vision and Renji stopped choking on the blood running down in his throat, he fumbled to his hands and knees. “Grphblgl!” He gurgled. “WHAD DA FUG WAD DAD FOR!??”
“Fuckin’ cheapskate.”
“GED DA FUG OUDDA BY BAG!!”
“Che, shut up, would ya?” He idly smacked Renji’s off kilter charge to the ground. What little money Renji had in his bag was now in the newcomer’s hand. “Ain’t no way to treat an officer ya know.”
“I…” Renji blinked, “wha?”
He gave a jaunty half-salute. “Name’s Madarame Ikkaku, third seat of the 11th. You’ll be trainin’ under me from now on.” He walked off with a wave. “Be sure to keep a lotta money on ya, huh? If I go through the trouble a beatin’ the shit outta ya and not get anythin’ fer my troubles I’m gonna be pissed!”
~*~*~*~
“Whoa! What the hell is this?”
Ichigo glanced up. “Hm? It’s just a lingerie commercial.”
Ikkaku was enthralled at the scantly clad models. “Wait- they’re advertising this stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“And people can buy them?”
“Yeah…”
“And women’ll WEAR them??”
Ichigo’s eyebrow twitched. “….Yeah.”
Ikkaku cracked his knuckles with a ‘I-gotta-get-in-on-this’ grin. “Yo, Renji. Got any money?”
Renji just buried his head in the TV Guide. “Go to hell.”
Fandom: Bleach
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 574
Characters: Ikkaku, Renji, briefly Ichigo
Summary: Minor spoilers up to 206. In which discussing Ikkaku’s ‘training tactics’ with Renji gives birth to this.
“So you’re the new guy, huh?”
Renji looked up, surprised to see someone sitting on one of the 11th division roofs. He shifted his bag on his shoulder, not certain what to think of him. “Yeah, I am.”
“Yeah? That all your belongings an’ shit?”
“Yeah…”
“Hmmm.” The man just sat there and smirked at him for a moment. Suddenly, the next thing Renji knew, the heel of a foot was crushing his nose and the ground didn’t take kindly to the back of his head.
After the stars faded out of his vision and Renji stopped choking on the blood running down in his throat, he fumbled to his hands and knees. “Grphblgl!” He gurgled. “WHAD DA FUG WAD DAD FOR!??”
“Fuckin’ cheapskate.”
“GED DA FUG OUDDA BY BAG!!”
“Che, shut up, would ya?” He idly smacked Renji’s off kilter charge to the ground. What little money Renji had in his bag was now in the newcomer’s hand. “Ain’t no way to treat an officer ya know.”
“I…” Renji blinked, “wha?”
He gave a jaunty half-salute. “Name’s Madarame Ikkaku, third seat of the 11th. You’ll be trainin’ under me from now on.” He walked off with a wave. “Be sure to keep a lotta money on ya, huh? If I go through the trouble a beatin’ the shit outta ya and not get anythin’ fer my troubles I’m gonna be pissed!”
~*~*~*~
“Whoa! What the hell is this?”
Ichigo glanced up. “Hm? It’s just a lingerie commercial.”
Ikkaku was enthralled at the scantly clad models. “Wait- they’re advertising this stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“And people can buy them?”
“Yeah…”
“And women’ll WEAR them??”
Ichigo’s eyebrow twitched. “….Yeah.”
Ikkaku cracked his knuckles with a ‘I-gotta-get-in-on-this’ grin. “Yo, Renji. Got any money?”
Renji just buried his head in the TV Guide. “Go to hell.”
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Date: 2006-02-23 09:34 pm (UTC)Thank you!