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Bleach, "The Pettiness" (Ichigo)
Ichigo has had it up to here with getting in trouble with teachers for shit he hasn't done. It's time to make some noise.
Contains Ichigo/trolling, the one true pairing of Bleach. Some school friends are also here. For the![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fic_promptly prompt, "the difference between doing a chore and doing a chore at someone."
.the pettiness.
It wasn't the first time they'd ended up staying after school, scrubbing the floors under the watchful eyes of their teacher, but every time Ichigo took it as a personal insult. He pushed his mop, scowling at a deep scratch in the flooring.
Chad knew him too well, caught his eyes from a few feet away and mutedly shook his head.
It didn't help. Ichigo could feel it welling up in him, threatening to burst out of him.
The pettiness.
"Can you see your reflection in these floors yet, Chad?" he asked, louder than necessary.
Chad closed his eyes and made a vague sound that Ichigo understood to be whatever he needed it to be for the purposes of his pettiness. Across the empty gymnasium, Kagine lifted his head to scowl at them.
"Ichigo, don't do it," Keigo whispered frantically.
He was going to do it.
"Yeah, I didn't think so," Ichigo agreed, still loud. "It seems to me like maybe it needs more than a good wash to really shine. Like, maybe it needs a professional waxing, seeing how old and scuffed-up it is. It's like no one ever takes care of it. Seems irresponsible to me."
Mizuiro murmured, "Are you really going to give him the excuse to punish you more?"
He really was.
"At this point," he announced, "it doesn't seem like we'll be able to make it reflective the way Instructor Kagine requested just by scrubbing it."
The tension was building in the air as high as any battle he'd ever been in. Ichigo could feel it weighing down on him with the oppressive force of reiatsu. It gave him the same invigorating charge of energy that he felt in battle, too. He scrubbed harder at the floor with the mop.
"Still not any less dull and shabby," Ichigo reported to Chad earnestly.
"Kurosaki!" Kagine called from across the room, his voice barely managing to contain his agitation. "Less yapping, more working!"
Despite the fact that Kagine's shout had been just as audible as his own strident commentary, Ichigo pretended he hadn't heard it. "I guess at this point the best way to get it reflective is to dump something reflective on it, isn't it?"
He kicked the soapy bucket over and the water soared through the air in an elegant arc before splattering onto the ground, spreading rapidly in all directions. His friends stared at him, stunned, and after a beat of stillness Kagine came to his feet with a roar, stomping across the court and grabbing Ichigo's shirt in one fist.
"You want to be in here for the rest of your high school career, Kurosaki?!" he shouted.
"I apologize, sir," Ichigo said, bland and unconcerned. "I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I'm just overwhelmed with grief that you still think I pick fights after all the years you've known me."
He knew that he didn't seem terribly innocent of instigating trouble at the moment -- though he had been in the particular incident that had landed them all here -- but he really didn't give a damn what Kagine thought of him. All that mattered was that when he met Kagine's eyes with a flat, piercing stare that saw right through him and yielded absolutely nothing, some self-preservation instinct made the teacher glance away first.
That was the thing about guys who picked fights and guys who judged others off stupid assumptions. They didn't like being recognized for their petty shit.
Contains Ichigo/trolling, the one true pairing of Bleach. Some school friends are also here. For the
fic_promptly prompt, "the difference between doing a chore and doing a chore at someone.".the pettiness.
It wasn't the first time they'd ended up staying after school, scrubbing the floors under the watchful eyes of their teacher, but every time Ichigo took it as a personal insult. He pushed his mop, scowling at a deep scratch in the flooring.
Chad knew him too well, caught his eyes from a few feet away and mutedly shook his head.
It didn't help. Ichigo could feel it welling up in him, threatening to burst out of him.
The pettiness.
"Can you see your reflection in these floors yet, Chad?" he asked, louder than necessary.
Chad closed his eyes and made a vague sound that Ichigo understood to be whatever he needed it to be for the purposes of his pettiness. Across the empty gymnasium, Kagine lifted his head to scowl at them.
"Ichigo, don't do it," Keigo whispered frantically.
He was going to do it.
"Yeah, I didn't think so," Ichigo agreed, still loud. "It seems to me like maybe it needs more than a good wash to really shine. Like, maybe it needs a professional waxing, seeing how old and scuffed-up it is. It's like no one ever takes care of it. Seems irresponsible to me."
Mizuiro murmured, "Are you really going to give him the excuse to punish you more?"
He really was.
"At this point," he announced, "it doesn't seem like we'll be able to make it reflective the way Instructor Kagine requested just by scrubbing it."
The tension was building in the air as high as any battle he'd ever been in. Ichigo could feel it weighing down on him with the oppressive force of reiatsu. It gave him the same invigorating charge of energy that he felt in battle, too. He scrubbed harder at the floor with the mop.
"Still not any less dull and shabby," Ichigo reported to Chad earnestly.
"Kurosaki!" Kagine called from across the room, his voice barely managing to contain his agitation. "Less yapping, more working!"
Despite the fact that Kagine's shout had been just as audible as his own strident commentary, Ichigo pretended he hadn't heard it. "I guess at this point the best way to get it reflective is to dump something reflective on it, isn't it?"
He kicked the soapy bucket over and the water soared through the air in an elegant arc before splattering onto the ground, spreading rapidly in all directions. His friends stared at him, stunned, and after a beat of stillness Kagine came to his feet with a roar, stomping across the court and grabbing Ichigo's shirt in one fist.
"You want to be in here for the rest of your high school career, Kurosaki?!" he shouted.
"I apologize, sir," Ichigo said, bland and unconcerned. "I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I'm just overwhelmed with grief that you still think I pick fights after all the years you've known me."
He knew that he didn't seem terribly innocent of instigating trouble at the moment -- though he had been in the particular incident that had landed them all here -- but he really didn't give a damn what Kagine thought of him. All that mattered was that when he met Kagine's eyes with a flat, piercing stare that saw right through him and yielded absolutely nothing, some self-preservation instinct made the teacher glance away first.
That was the thing about guys who picked fights and guys who judged others off stupid assumptions. They didn't like being recognized for their petty shit.