![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ajremixTitle: Failing Grade
Fandom: Bleach RP![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
mercy_street_rp
Rating: PG, just in case
Word Count: 771
Characters: Ikkaku, and a bit of the Boss
In response to:mercystreetnote speed drabble (last=25 minutes)
Summary: Ikkaku was never much for book learning.
Ikkaku was 19, watching his friends go through high school, complaining about this teacher and that project and worrying about what college they’d go to, what they’d end up doing with the rest of their lives. Ikkaku used to grin and laugh at them. He knew what he was going to do, where he’d be staying. He had the Brigand, the room above bar. What else would anyone need guaranteed for them?
But, at 19, he couldn’t help feeling jealous about it. He never went to school (well, not since he ran out of his last foster home back when he was… what, 10?) and Kenpachi and Retsu-nee never pressed him about it. He learned everything from the streets, from the people that came in, from Kenpachi and Retsu-nee mostly. He knew what he had to and that’s what counted.
Except it didn’t seem like it. He didn’t tell anyone about it, but he’d sneak Tetsu and Renji’s textbooks sometimes, try to figure them out. Reading them, school didn’t seem that hard. Hell, he could do it, he figured. So he thought… “I could get into a college. Ain’t that tough if those dumbshits I see walkin’ ‘round can do that. Mostly boozin’ an’ fuckin’, anyway if the regulars’re right.”
With Tetsu and Renji and Shuuhei helping him out, Ikkaku crammed for two months and they pounded everything they could think of that would be on the GED test. He learned everything he possibly could, until it felt like his head couldn’t take anymore, until he wanted to beat his brain against something and make it possible to think again.
And he failed. Impressively.
When his friends saw the score, they tried to cheer him up but they couldn’t even think of anything to say. Ikkaku wouldn’t have heard it anyway. He left the paper to them and went up to the apartment, to his room, didn’t even know what to do with himself. He trashed the place. Just because he couldn’t do anything else.
He felt like a fool, like a goddamned, useless, worthless moron. It twisted at his chest until it made him sit down hold tears back with the heels of his palms. He couldn’t even think about what Retsu-nee or Kenpachi would say if they learned about it. Ikkaku felt sick to his stomach and, the first time in almost a year, didn’t come down to work.
He knew he should’ve gone down, at least lied about not feeling well, but he couldn’t even bring himself to move let alone care. He huffed in the ruins of his room and knew this was what it felt like to be a failure.
“Oi. Ikkaku.”
A crack of light spilled across the room and Ikkaku vaguely noted it was nighttime. He looked up at Kenpachi without so much as a grunt.
The man trod into the room, not bothering to kick things out of his way. He held out a paper. Ikkaku’s test result was gripped in it. The boy turned away, jaw clenched and face burning. That painful stab in his chest was back and his stomach felt like it dropped out and the only think Ikkaku thought was Kenpachi wouldn’t want to have a failure for a son and was ashamed to feel his eyes sting with tears for the second time that night.
“You think this matters?”
He turned back to Kenpachi in surprise.
“You think I fuckin’ care if yer some Harvard grad or some shit?” He scowled down at Ikkaku, edges somehow soften and voice not nearly as gruff as it should be. “What you know if far more important than what those white-collared corpses could teach ya. Customers want someone that knows the difference between a Red Headed Slut and a Blonde Headed Slut. They don’t care if you know the goddamned periodic table or not.”
He found a flat surface- the side of Ikkaku’s nightstand –and sat on it with a sigh. “You think what I taught ya all these years was a waste?” It wasn’t an accusation. It sounded almost like… regret?
Surprised, Ikkaku looked at his foster father’s face. “What? N-No! It’s not that! I just…” he looked away again, “I just wanted… just wanted to…” He cut himself off with a heavy sigh. A heavy hand rested on the top of his head.
Kenpachi gave him a strange half-smile. “Yer a good kid, Ikkaku. You ain’t dumb and you know yer shit. Just ‘cuz some piece of paper says somethin’ don’t make it right, got it?”
Ikkaku, at 19, learned picking himself up meant more than any degree did.
Fandom: Bleach RP
mercy_street_rpRating: PG, just in case
Word Count: 771
Characters: Ikkaku, and a bit of the Boss
In response to:
mercystreetnote speed drabble (last=25 minutes)Summary: Ikkaku was never much for book learning.
Ikkaku was 19, watching his friends go through high school, complaining about this teacher and that project and worrying about what college they’d go to, what they’d end up doing with the rest of their lives. Ikkaku used to grin and laugh at them. He knew what he was going to do, where he’d be staying. He had the Brigand, the room above bar. What else would anyone need guaranteed for them?
But, at 19, he couldn’t help feeling jealous about it. He never went to school (well, not since he ran out of his last foster home back when he was… what, 10?) and Kenpachi and Retsu-nee never pressed him about it. He learned everything from the streets, from the people that came in, from Kenpachi and Retsu-nee mostly. He knew what he had to and that’s what counted.
Except it didn’t seem like it. He didn’t tell anyone about it, but he’d sneak Tetsu and Renji’s textbooks sometimes, try to figure them out. Reading them, school didn’t seem that hard. Hell, he could do it, he figured. So he thought… “I could get into a college. Ain’t that tough if those dumbshits I see walkin’ ‘round can do that. Mostly boozin’ an’ fuckin’, anyway if the regulars’re right.”
With Tetsu and Renji and Shuuhei helping him out, Ikkaku crammed for two months and they pounded everything they could think of that would be on the GED test. He learned everything he possibly could, until it felt like his head couldn’t take anymore, until he wanted to beat his brain against something and make it possible to think again.
And he failed. Impressively.
When his friends saw the score, they tried to cheer him up but they couldn’t even think of anything to say. Ikkaku wouldn’t have heard it anyway. He left the paper to them and went up to the apartment, to his room, didn’t even know what to do with himself. He trashed the place. Just because he couldn’t do anything else.
He felt like a fool, like a goddamned, useless, worthless moron. It twisted at his chest until it made him sit down hold tears back with the heels of his palms. He couldn’t even think about what Retsu-nee or Kenpachi would say if they learned about it. Ikkaku felt sick to his stomach and, the first time in almost a year, didn’t come down to work.
He knew he should’ve gone down, at least lied about not feeling well, but he couldn’t even bring himself to move let alone care. He huffed in the ruins of his room and knew this was what it felt like to be a failure.
“Oi. Ikkaku.”
A crack of light spilled across the room and Ikkaku vaguely noted it was nighttime. He looked up at Kenpachi without so much as a grunt.
The man trod into the room, not bothering to kick things out of his way. He held out a paper. Ikkaku’s test result was gripped in it. The boy turned away, jaw clenched and face burning. That painful stab in his chest was back and his stomach felt like it dropped out and the only think Ikkaku thought was Kenpachi wouldn’t want to have a failure for a son and was ashamed to feel his eyes sting with tears for the second time that night.
“You think this matters?”
He turned back to Kenpachi in surprise.
“You think I fuckin’ care if yer some Harvard grad or some shit?” He scowled down at Ikkaku, edges somehow soften and voice not nearly as gruff as it should be. “What you know if far more important than what those white-collared corpses could teach ya. Customers want someone that knows the difference between a Red Headed Slut and a Blonde Headed Slut. They don’t care if you know the goddamned periodic table or not.”
He found a flat surface- the side of Ikkaku’s nightstand –and sat on it with a sigh. “You think what I taught ya all these years was a waste?” It wasn’t an accusation. It sounded almost like… regret?
Surprised, Ikkaku looked at his foster father’s face. “What? N-No! It’s not that! I just…” he looked away again, “I just wanted… just wanted to…” He cut himself off with a heavy sigh. A heavy hand rested on the top of his head.
Kenpachi gave him a strange half-smile. “Yer a good kid, Ikkaku. You ain’t dumb and you know yer shit. Just ‘cuz some piece of paper says somethin’ don’t make it right, got it?”
Ikkaku, at 19, learned picking himself up meant more than any degree did.
