Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Jungle Duck ❯ Jungle Duck ( One-Shot )

Disclaimer: All things Bleach belong to Kubo Tite and all companies that hold the license to the publication and distribution of the series. Used without permission for non-profitable entertainment purposes.

 

I made a post a while back on my livejournal requesting prompts from the first five people to respond. This one is the second prompt; my dear friend Kellen requested a Bleach fic featuring Ichigo and Hitsugaya in a non-yaoi friendship situation that involves actiony-whumpage and water. (And no sex, but I think the non-yaoi bit covers that.) Somehow it became an AU fic in a `verse I wouldn't mind revisiting, should the ideas arise.

 

This is a little over a year old now, but it's the most recent Bleach fic I have written. KHR has kind of replaced Bleach as my fandom crack, so yeah, enjoy this “last” hoorah for now? Haha.

 

Warnings: Language and violence/whumpage. What else is new?

 

--

 

Jungle Duck

 

The rain is calming, peaceful, yet coming down in thick, heavy sheets. Normally, these are ideal nights to rest - the bad weather, the colder the better, are relaxing. But while on a hunt, it's another issue entirely. Especially when one is stuck with a young pup of a Slayer who doesn't seem to understand that he is the inexperienced one in this hunt. (Toushirou entirely blames Rangiku for this one - even if it's stupid to blame someone else for simply being sick at a bad time.) And it's not even a cooler rain this time; it's hot and muggy and almost suffocating, like breathing underwater. It'll make it harder to see through some parts of the brush, even with proper sensing techniques.

 

Toushirou sighs, taking comfort in the fact that he's getting paid well for this mission, until he remembers what it is that they're tracking. The beast they're hunting has been a target of Gotei for years now, and the fact that it has escaped even some of the most talented and experienced Slayer leaders doesn't bode well.

 

Resisting the urge to keep one hand on the hilt of his weapon at all times, Toushirou manages a sideways glance at his temporary partner instead. Ichigo is quiet, watching their surroundings with what looks like a piss-poor attempt at a passive expression. The kid's broody, but at least he's observant, so Toushirou decides to leave him be. It's not like there's any Hollow in the area at the present moment anyway.

 

They're moving slowly tonight, half because of the rain, and half because Toushirou would rather spend some time observing how Ichigo handles the environment before they dive into the actual hunt. Test-driving, so to speak - he needs to know how his partner will behave in this environment before he'll feel comfortable working with him. He trails a little behind, letting Ichigo lead the way for most of the time, and sometimes taking the lead himself.

 

Ichigo is quick on his feet, and seems rather powerful - but Toushirou can tell that he's actually faster than the younger man just by the way they move their feet. Ichigo seems to be a tad clumsier and less sure of his own balance, and yet there's a natural fighting spirit that Toushirou can feel from meters away, it's so strong. Toushirou doesn't wonder how Ichigo managed to catch the eye of the Gotei Slayers; instead, he wonders why they let him out on a hunt so damned early.

 

Ichigo's shoulders bunch up ahead, and Toushirou frowns, squinting ahead of the young man. When he sees nothing, he closes his eyes and tries to sense anything that might be ahead - smells, sounds, vibes - and finds nothing out of the ordinary. Not even his instruments are finding anything.

 

“What is it?” he says quietly, approaching low and silently behind Ichigo.

 

Ichigo jerks, startled, whipping wide eyes back towards Toushirou. A sigh, and then, “Nothing. It was nothing.”

 

Not quite the response that Toushirou expects; he frowns instead. “Focus,” is all he says, and begins pressing forward. He doesn't wait for Ichigo to follow, but senses his presence keeping pace behind him anyway.

 

The thick forest underbrush is quiet ahead save for the percussion of heavy rain on broad, thick plant leaves; a growing feeling of dread fills the pit of Toushirou's stomach. They must be getting closer now, though there's still no indication in the gages that they're anywhere near their prey. This is one reason to trust instinct over technology, Toushirou reminds himself as he slows his approach. Some prey have been around long enough to slip under the Slayers' radar - and these are the more dangerous ones.

 

Toushirou takes a quick glance backwards to see if Ichigo notices anything out of the ordinary yet. The kid seems tense, but it's as if he hasn't realized why just yet. To give Ichigo more time, he makes eye contact with Ichigo - hoping his unspoken message of stay here gets through - and rushes ahead, hoping to round off the prey.

 

He blinks when all he sees ahead is a small child, dressed in tattered clothing and looking lost and scared and... incredibly out of place. But it's not looking at Toushirou; probably hasn't even noticed him yet.

 

But it certainly sees Ichigo.

 

Ichigo doesn't see it back until a split second too late, and that doesn't register in Toushirou's brain until a whole three split seconds too late. He's already moving, but he's not going to make it in time. Toushirou sees it in frames: Ichigo reaches out at first, recoils as he understands what he's looking at, pulls out his sword, raises it in defense, but there's a blur and it's getting past Ichigo's guard and-

 

Toushirou doesn't even remember just how goddamned fast he actually is until the blur becomes a pair of driving, blinding pains stabbing through his shoulder and chest. Time returns to the proper speed, and he's on his knees by then, struggling to breathe. Shit. Shitshitshit- The poison from the Hollow's spines already spreads, numbing as it travels down his arm through his bloodstream.

 

“Son of a bitch!” Toushirou hears behind him, and he isn't sure if his vision is blurring or if Ichigo's just moving that damned fast past him. There's a deep-throated chuckle from further ahead in the woods, and it sure as hell isn't coming from the child - which is a fake, a decoy, readily apparent by now.

 

Toushirou opens his mouth to tell Ichigo just that, but the breath he takes to talk steals the rest of his consciousness instead.

 

He opens his eyes later to find Ichigo hovering above him, patting his face and speaking in low, panicked tones. Toushirou's not even sure if the kid's talking to him, or to himself at this point. There's blood smeared on Ichigo's face, just enough of it to release adrenaline like a punch in his gut - is it Ichigo's? The Hollow's? ... His?

 

“Fuck, come on, kid,” Ichigo's whispering, and Toushirou can't help but frown. Or, at least, he thinks it's a frown - probably looks more like a grimace.

 

Who's the kid here?

 

“S-Stop hitting my face,” he snarls, and it hurts to speak around the dry cotton in his mouth. He swallows painfully and shoves Ichigo's hands away. Even that takes no small amount of effort; feels like he's got training weights around his wrists. “Hollow?”

 

Ichigo sighs, not even trying to hide the stark relief in the gesture. “Gone.”

 

“Wh-What?!” Toushirou growls, sitting up and ignoring the fact that he feels like he's been run over by a pack of elephants a few times over. “Don't tell me it got away!”

 

Ichigo blinks at him. “No,” he says carefully, “I killed it. At least, I hope so - they dissipate when you kill them, right?”

 

Groaning, Toushirou runs a hand over his face. The kid didn't even know that much yet? Holy shit, is Gotei trying to kill him? But damn... if this kid really has killed a Hollow that's been eluding Gotei for so long, then...

 

“Holy shit.”

 

“It's dead... right?” Ichigo looks a little worried now.

 

“No-...Yes, he's dead, but that's not what I meant. Never mind.” Toushirou grunts when he tries to stand, but the sharp, stabbing agony from before returns with a white hot vengeance in his chest, and he wheezes as he tries to catch his breath around the pain. “Damn it.”

 

There's worry now in Ichigo's expression, and Toushirou hates that. Forcing his own face into a mask that's less of pain and something more of neutrality, he gives Ichigo a once-over.

 

“You okay?” he asks.

 

Ichigo looks almost sheepish, and it's not a good thing. It's then that Toushirou notices just how pale and shaky Ichigo's looking, and that there's blood running down the boy's side and leg. He swears as he moves forward to have a better look.

 

“Ow!”

 

“These aren't from the spines, are they?” Toushirou asks when he's done poking, shooting a serious look up at Ichigo.

 

Ichigo shakes his head and bites his lip, wincing as he presses his hands to the injuries in his side. “Claws.”

 

Toushirou sighs, then laughs mirthlessly because it's most definitely not funny. He's hurting and bleeding and feeling woozy now and limbs are going more numb by the moment; and his partner is bleeding, too. This is a mess - a goddamned stupid mess, all because he just had to go bail out the rookie in the messiest, most reckless way possible. God, what a fucking stupid stunt to pull when he knows better... should know better, at least.

 

“What's so damn funny?” Ichigo asks irritably.

 

“Nothing.” And it's true, but he adds anyway, “At least both of us aren't poisoned.”

 

No, it really isn't funny; Ichigo rolls his eyes and looks around them. “So now what?”

 

“Can you walk?” Toushirou asks.

 

Ichigo tries standing, unsteadily at first as his wounded leg nearly crumples under him, but once he's balanced, he tries taking a few hobbling steps. “Somewhat,” he says, and he doesn't look pleased about admitting to pain one bit. “Can you?”

 

He can barely sit up - he has a bad, bad feeling that he won't even be able to stand. “...Working on it.”

 

There isn't much of a chance to do so; the only warning he has is a frustrated snort from above him before he feels hands hooking under his armpits. It hurts, and he yelps - not his fault, dammit - but suddenly he's on his feet. Except he's swaying and unsteady, and ohshit he's going to hurl-

 

“Jesus, kid, you're burning up!” Ichigo mutters.

 

“Not a goddamned kid,” he protests - weakly - as the world inverts itself.

 

There's a hand on each shoulder for a brief, steadying moment until one of the hands grabs one of his hands and pulls it over strong, broad shoulders. It takes a moment for Toushirou to realize what Ichigo's intentions are, and he doesn't like it.

 

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” he says, voice low and frustrated. “You can barely walk on your own, much less drag me-”

 

“Not leaving you behind, you ass,” Ichigo interrupts, even more irritated as he finishes hoisting the smaller Slayer onto his back. “It's the least I could do.”

 

Ah. Toushirou now understands. Ichigo thinks it's his fault that they're both hurt - which, mind, is a little true, but he's being pretty damned hard on himself if that's the case. Toushirou tries to struggle, but can't quite summon the energy to resist. He slumps against Ichigo's back, face pressing uncomfortably into a sharp shoulder blade.

 

“Idiot. Not your fault,” he slurs, but isn't sure that Ichigo hears him and is too tired to repeat it.

 

The jungle is still hot and muggy, but at least it isn't raining anymore the next time Toushirou opens his eyes. Each staggering step that Ichigo takes jostles Toushirou's wounds, and he's pretty damned sure Ichigo isn't feeling much better. If Toushirou's muddled mind can still act as an accurate compass, he's guessing they're still an entire day's walk from the nearest village at full health. It's only then that he finally notices how dark it is in the jungle - he's missing entire gaps of time - and Ichigo's still walking.

 

“Rest?” he croaks, hoping it gets the point across.

 

“N-No time,” Ichigo says breathlessly, and it's Toushirou's turn to worry. “We already missed our check-in time.”

 

“Shit.” Ichigo has a point, but it isn't going to help either of them if Ichigo continues unto exhaustion like this. “Put me down.”

 

“What?”

 

“Now.”

 

“But you can't even stand- Ow!”

 

Toushirou gives Ichigo's ear another feeble jerk, but Ichigo's arms <i>tighten</i> around Toushirou's legs instead, and that's not what the plan is.

 

“Kurosaki...” he says, voice low in warning, but the syllables aren't staying crisply apart like they should be.

 

“Fuck,” Ichigo says through gritted teeth, voice reaching a high-pitched level of fear that makes Toushirou tense. “If I put you down now... I d-don't think I'll be able to stand up again!”

 

“Driving yourself to exhaustion isn't going to get us there any faster,” Toushirou tries to say, but he can't help it when his words slur together and come out in a jumbled mess of nearly incomprehensible language. He giggles.

 

“And that's exactly why I'm going to keep moving,” Ichigo replies, readjusting his grip. Toushirou groans involuntarily as the movement jerks on his sore body. “Shut up and hold still.”

 

Toushirou has half a mind to snap at him, but can't seem to find the energy or the breath to reply when all he can see now are stars and little flying orange-headed pygmies darting across his vision. His arms are like dead weights at his sides now, and he's leaning more heavily against Ichigo's back than he wants to be - but can't seem to do anything about it. The sky's a nice pretty green right now, so that's okay.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he thinks Ichigo says, and decides that the kid swears a lot.

 

“M'okay.”

 

He doesn't think Ichigo hears him, and isn't even sure he says anything aloud. Doesn't matter anyway, there's a chocolate monster ahead and he's going to go eat it in a minute after he gets the cotton out of his mouth and ears. Ichigo needs to stop humming s'damned loud.

 

“Noise,” he grunts.

 

“Huh?” They stop moving; at least, Toushirou thinks they're standing still.

 

“Stop spinning. M'trying to sleep.”

 

Ichigo's squeezing his legs too hard now. “Shit,” he whispers. “Stay awake.”

 

It's probably important. “Mm? 'Kay.” But it's getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open, and he's not sure he'll make it back in time for Momo's freshly-baked pie.

 

Blinking, he finally realizes that he's not making a damned lick of sense. His body is way too heavy, and Ichigo's obviously scared out of his goddamned mind, and Toushirou can't seem to figure out why.

 

Poison. It's the fucking poison.

 

“Sorry,” he apologizes, and it sounds lame even to him. Again, he's met with silence.

 

The sky's getting lighter, and he's feeling like his body's slowly turning to lead and it's too damned hot but he can't stop trembling. It's a wonder that Ichigo is still on his feet, but they can't be that much further from the village. ... Right?

 

“Where-”

 

“Soon,” Ichigo replies, and there's a strange mixture of relief, exhaustion, pain, and irritation in his voice in just that one word. “Hang in there.”

 

Toushirou feels his eyes crossing as he tries to focus on the jungle around them, and the blur mixes with the edges of black around his vision. All he notices after that is a jumbled wreck of curses and words and painfully jerky movements and too many goddamned hands. It feels like a matter of minutes - or an eternity, either one - before he can force his eyes open again.

 

A familiar face - silver eyes, strawberry blonde hair, full, pouty lips - blinks down at him, then smiles. They're not in the jungle anymore, then. Damn, Ichigo moves fast, he thinks - then it occurs to him that he's probably been out for a while. Sitting up too quickly, he grips his head in one hand as it throbs in painful protest.

 

“You're awake!” Rangiku's cheerful voice exclaims through the rushing of blood in his ears.

 

He almost wishes he wasn't, and waits until the stars recede before he takes a glance around the room. Tent - field med tent, probably one of Unohana's. God, he feels like shit.

 

“Where the hell is Ichigo?” he says, finally realizing that the kid wasn't anywhere nearby in a moment of panic. The kid wasn't looking so good, last Toushirou remembers seeing him.

 

... It's his fault, too. Fuck. Yamamoto isn't going to like this; he expects to get an earful later for having the rookie subordinate bail him out.

 

“Resting,” Rangiku says, pushing his shoulders gently. “Like you should be. You're not exactly looking like a basket of fruit yourself.”

 

“Let me see him.”

 

Rangiku frowns at him, and he gives her his harshest glare. It falls flat against her defiantly raised eyebrow after several moments; she's already determined to keep him in bed, no matter what he does. He sighs in defeat.

 

“Sleep a while longer, then we'll see what Unohana says,” she replies, looking extremely smug in her victory. Toushirou rolls his eyes, but lays back down anyway.

 

“Glad to see you're feeling better,” he mutters irritably.

 

She pats his shoulder. “You too, you idiot,” she says softly. It's the last thing he hears before he drifts off again.

 

--

 

Toushirou actually doesn't even see Ichigo again until several weeks later, and it's a chance meeting before he heads out on his next mission - this time, back with Rangiku. For the first time in a long time, Toushirou feels embarrassed; he knows that Ichigo essentially saved his life, and it's frustrating to admit that the rookie showed him up on their mission together.

 

But he owes Ichigo a hell of a lot of gratitude for it, pride be damned.

 

Much to his surprise, though, Ichigo approaches him first, a sheepish scowl on his face. “Hey,” Ichigo says, fidgeting.

 

“Kurosaki,” Toushirou greets with a nod.

 

There's a silence that's so awkward it's almost painful, and Toushirou is grateful that there aren't very many people around who can see it. He coughs, looking down at his shoes briefly before looking back up at the kid (damn, Kurosaki is tall, he finds himself noticing idly).

 

“I have to apologize, Kurosaki,” he begins, but Ichigo holds up a hand in interruption.

 

“The apology is mine,” Ichigo replies. Toushirou blinks at him - what the hell? - but says nothing just yet. “If I'd been paying more attention, you wouldn't have needed to cover for me. I'm really, really sorry to let you down like that.”

 

Toushirou is sure that he's gaping, and forces his own mouth shut, blinking again. Certainly not what he was expecting. “That's not your fault - I should have known better than that.”

 

Frustrated, Ichigo looks around before swiping his hand down his face roughly. “Look,” he says, gritting his teeth. “I'm trying to apologize for fucking up the mission so badly. Please don't make me repeat it like an ass.”

 

Toushirou's eyes narrow. “That's my line.”

 

There's a short bark of a laugh, and Ichigo looks at him with a half-smirk. “No hard feelings, then?”

 

Toushirou frowns, shaking his head once. “Not unless they're returned,” he replies. Quietly, he adds, “And... Thanks. Didn't get a chance to say it before.”

 

Ichigo's half-grin turns into a full smile as he sticks out his hand, and Toushirou grips it with a small half-grin of his own. “Pleasure to work with you, Sir,” he says, voice low and oddly soft.

 

The dropped 'kid' doesn't slide past Toushirou unnoticed. “I'll work with you again any time, Rookie,” he replies, just as quietly.

 

Ichigo waves as he turns, shoving his hands in his pockets. Toushirou watches him leave before he looks around nervously, forcing a scowl back on to his face as he makes sure nobody else is watching them. A sigh of relief - his reputation's still going to be in tact, thankfully - and he heads back to his office. Ichigo really isn't a bad kid; Toushirou is going to look forward to seeing how the kid progresses as a Slayer. He owes the young man his life, after all.

 

And next time, there won't be any goddamned mistakes.

 

--

 

Fin.

 

--

 

By the way, according to Urban Dictionary, a “jungle duck” is “to be the centre of attention in an embarrassing moment.” Just in case anyone was wondering where the title came from.