Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Seireitei Monogatari ❯ Rukia's Dating Service - Hitsugaya ( Chapter 75 )

Title: Rukia's Dating Service - Hitsugaya

Characters: Ichigo, Hitsugaya, Rukia, Matsumoto

Rating: T

Warning: Cursing. Insanity. That about sums it up.

Words: 2171

Description: This wasn't a date. Just so they were clear.

 

 

“Taichou needs a friend.”

 

Rukia blinked, lowering the manga Ichigo had tossed at her for entertainment and regarded the lieutenant with some confusion. “What?”

 

Tossing her hair and kicking her feet in the air from where she lay propped up on the floor, Matsumoto elaborated. “The scowl he gets between his eyebrows is cute,” she explained, pointing to her scrunched forehead. “But he doesn't have any friends. He needs some.”

 

Intrigued and still slightly confused, Rukia closed the book. “And you're telling me... why?”

 

Matsumoto smiled deviously, winking at her. “I know what you've been doing with Ichigo-kun. I think you should pair him up with taichou.”

 

Her mouth nearly dropped. She had been hitting sort of a low spot lately. None of her attempts had worked, and Ichigo looked just as miserable as ever, running around scowling and taking his anger out on Hollows. And he had developed some sort of bond with Hitsugaya-taichou.

 

Rukia tipped her head to the side. “It could work,” she mused aloud, tapping her fingers on her knee.

 

Matsumoto grinned, a giggle escaping her lips. “It will work,” she corrected. “And then, maybe I'll get that time off I wanted. The possibilities are endless!”

 

Rukia rolled her eyes. There was always an ulterior motive. Still, her mind was already churning, a devious plan taking form that would encourage Ichigo to appear for his date.

 

Her lips curved into a smirk.

 

*****

 

“This isn't a date,” Ichigo stated crossly.

 

Standing across from him and wearing a gigai, Toushirou blinked.

 

“I don't know what she told you,” the substitute Shinigami continued, ignoring the press of people around them, all hurrying to their destinations. “But this isn't a date.”

 

Crossing his arms, Toushirou stared just as irritably in return. “That's perfectly fine with me.”

 

“So long as we're in agreement,” Ichigo responded.

 

Silence fell between them. A car honked loudly in the street. Three giggling girls in school outfits passed by, obviously sharing some secret. The two stubborn boys stared at each other, willing the other to break first.

 

Ichigo shifted, ready to get this bonding session over. “So how'd they convince you to come here?”

 

There was a disdainful snort. “Matsumoto thinks I need friends. It was either you, that idiot Abarai, or being plied with candy by Ukitake.” An angry “v” formed on his brow.

 

Ichigo felt marginally better that he was picked out of three. But then again, it really meant he was the lesser of three evils. So there was nothing to be proud of. Irritation quickly returned.

 

“Che.” He paused. “What do you want to do then?”

 

“What do I know?” Toushirou shrugged, attempting nonchalance, as if he'd rather be anywhere but there at that very moment.

 

“We could just walk?”

 

“Fine.”

 

It was settled. In an unconscious, silent agreement, they headed to the right, towards the main hub of the shopping district. Ichigo shoved his hands into his pockets, scowling at the surrounding pedestrians. Toushirou granted them all bored glowers. It worked remarkably well for the both of them.

 

Conversation was nonexistent. They passed a restaurant or two. And a movie theater. A grocery store. An arcade.

 

And then, Ichigo caught it.

 

Blue-green eyes swiveled towards the arcade, taking in the bright colors and energetic sounds. They could hear the games from the street, the chirpy beeps and the faint music of DDR. There was a glimmer of interest shining in Toushirou's eyes, but he quickly shoved it down, squirreling it away.

 

Obviously, he was going to refuse to ask to go in. Even if it was so damned clear he wanted to.

 

“Let's go to the arcade,” Ichigo said with a smirk, directing the captain towards it and not giving him a chance to argue otherwise. “With any luck, we won't run into Keigo or Chizuru.”

 

Toushirou snorted. “Fine.”

 

That was his standard answer. Which was better than an argument in Ichigo's book. His smirk widened. No argument only proved that Toushirou wanted to go inside.

 

They ambled to the sliding glass, pausing in the doorway and looking around. As always, it was dimmer inside than out in the sun. Thankfully, this particular arcade wasn't too crowded. And most of the patrons were at least over thirteen. No worries about little kiddies then.

 

Toushirou made no moves to go further, not wanting to appear in the slightest bit interested. It was kind of cute, in a scowling, annoyed and frosty sort of way. If Ichigo squinted. Cute like Karin getting mad at him was cute. Like a little brother or something.

 

And there was no way in hell he was admitting any of that aloud.

 

Ignoring Toushirou's attempt at being a mature adult, Ichigo dug some coins out of his pocket and plopped down at the nearest game. A classic. Pac-Man it was. With a clink, he stuck in a coin and started to play. He idly wondered if Toushirou had any money.

 

Then, he saw the captain pull out a few coins, glancing at them as if debating their use. Toushirou's brow furrowed deeply again, enough to give him lines in the future if he kept doing that. He deliberated for another long moment before clinking the money in his hand and heading further into the arcade, presumably to find something more to his taste.

 

Ichigo shrugged and returned to his game.

 

Dammit. He'd just gotten eaten.

 

He whiled away a few minutes with Pac-Man and then gave up when he lost too many times in a row. It had been a long time since he'd been at an arcade. Rising to his feet, Ichigo flitted around to a few other games. Street Fighter. Some kind of shooting game. That damned stuffed-animal-arm-thing he could never win. A racing simulator.

 

Ichigo won a few, lost even more. His wallet was much lighter by the time he was done. Before he knew what he was doing, an hour had passed. He figured he had better find Toushirou before the captain iced down some poor machine and had management called on them. Sometimes, Shinigami and machines didn't mix. The incident with Renji, the fridge, and Zabimaru had taught him that.

 

Abandoning Mortal Kombat, Ichigo began a brief search of the arcade. It took him less than a minute to find Toushirou at the pinball machine.

 

Beating the high score.

 

Ichigo gaped. “How long have you been playing?”

 

“Don't speak, Kurosaki,” the other boy muttered, eyes glued to the machine in front of him as his fingers moved rapidly to keep the damn metal ball ping-ponging inside the game. The numbers at the top continued to scroll as he racked up points, much to the amazement of a steadily growing crowd.

 

Hitsugaya Toushirou, the Pinball Master. Who knew?

 

Thoroughly impressed, Ichigo moved to the empty machine next to the captain. He popped in a coin and started to play, though it wasn't with nearly the same skill as Toushirou. It wasn't long before he heard a cry of surprise from the gathered gawkers. He turned to find that Toushirou had maxed out the machine with the highest score. It would go no higher.

 

Bright lights and chirpy music announced that he was the grand master pinballer. Smug, Toushirou turned and shot Ichigo a smirk.

 

“Piece of cake.”

 

Ichigo snorted. “What? They teach you that in the Academy or something?” he questioned softly, the query vague enough that no one would get suspicious. “Or did you spend the last hour on this game alone?”

 

Toushirou glared at him. But before he could get in a word edgewise, a girl wandered over, looking just about Ichigo's age.

 

“That's amazing,” she breathed, fluttering her eyelashes at them. She clapped her hands together in surprise. “I've never seen anyone actually beat the high score!”

 

The look the Shinigami captain gave her was entirely disbelieving, as if he couldn't understand how one female could be that stupid.

 

She continued, sidling up to Ichigo. “Are you two brothers?” she chirped, running a hand suggestively down his arm.

 

The substitute Shinigami sidestepped automatically, half-wondering if Izuru liked arcade games. Maybe they should give it a try on their next date.

 

“What do you think?” Toushirou demanded.

 

They both scowled at each other, a nearly identical expression. The girl looked between them and giggled again. She pressed against again Ichigo with a sigh.

 

“Would your kawaii otouto want some candy?”

 

Ichigo smirked devilishly, remarkably resembling Zaraki Kenpachi. “Oh, no. He's violently allergic to it. Makes him have these fits.”

 

Scowling, Toushirou leaned against the pinball machine, which was still flashing brightly and declaring that he was a “Winner!”

 

The girl pouted, clearly upset that her presence wasn't having as much of an effect as she wanted. “That's so sad.”

 

Ichigo shrugged. “I guess.” He avoided her touch and returned to his own machine.

 

Hell, if Toushirou could do it, then so could he.

 

“Try something else,” Ichigo suggested a few minutes later with a sly grin. “Like DDR.”

 

Toushirou tilted his head to the side. “DDR? What the hell is that?”

 

His flipper missed the last of his metal spheres, and Ichigo cursed, watching as it sank into the end zone. He was out of tries. Giving up his attempts at pinball domination, Ichigo turned towards Toushirou.

 

“I'll show you.”

 

Realizing that she was being ignored, the girl wandered away. “It's always the good-looking ones,” she mumbled under her breath.

 

Neither male noticed.

 

With the Shinigami captain in tow, Ichigo headed to the back of the arcade, where several consoles were set up, only one in actual use. He watched as Toushirou studied the other player, face pulled into his usual scowl.

 

“Try it,” Ichigo suggested, climbing up into an empty console and taking the right side. “Unless you don't think you can do it.”

 

Toushirou snorted. “Fine.”

 

He took the left and watched as Ichigo set up the game, selecting the difficulty level and style of music. Behind them, a crowd began to draw, likely recognizing Toushirou as the one who had beaten the pinball machine.

 

“Pay attention,” Ichigo instructed as he hit the final button. The opening strains of something began to play, a mix of vocals and some kind of instrument.

 

“What did you pick?”

 

The music continued.

 

Ichigo smirked. “Kung-Fu Fighting.”

 

“Idiot.” Toushirou snorted.

 

There was a gong, and their heads whipped towards the screen. Arrows started to fly up from the bottom. From then on, it was a battle. And they were as focused as if Hollows were dancing in front of them. Feet flew across arrows. Curses spilled from their lips. Directed at themselves and at the computer. Cheering started behind them, the crowd split in who they were rooting for. Some money was even exchanged.

 

Neither competitor even noticed, too intent on the screen.

 

One and a half minutes later, slightly breathless, the song ended with a final heavy dong. And the computer calculated their score.

 

“Dammit,” Toushirou muttered as the numbers appeared, going along with the cheering and booing crowd behind them.

 

Ichigo had beaten him by thirty points. Bastard.

 

“It's not fair. You have longer legs,” Toushirou protested. “And you've done it before.”

 

The substitute Shinigami smirked at him. “You're just a sore loser.” He looked around, only just noticing their crowd. “Wanna do it again?”

 

A sniff. “Best two out of three?”

 

“Works for me.”

 

And so it went.

 

More money was exchanged. Three more songs were played. At expert level, no less. But in the end, Ichigo emerged victorious once more. Very, very reluctantly Toushirou conceded defeat.

 

Stepping off the machine, much to the disappointment of their viewers, they let others play the game.

 

“Well?” Ichigo prompted.

 

“You will speak of this to no one,” Toshiro warned and then frowned in thought. “Though it would make a good training regime.” He eyed the game, as if contemplating how difficult it would be to get one to Soul Society.

 

Ichigo rolled his eyes. Typical.

 

“I'm not making any promises, Toushirou.”

 

“That's Hitsugaya-taichou!”

 

The teenager lifted a brow. “What happened to friendship?”

 

There was a moment. Toushirou folded his arms over his chest, eyebrow twitching in irritation. “Fine,” he grudgingly allowed.

 

Ichigo snuck a glance at the clock. It was actually getting pretty late.

 

“Time for me to head home. And it's probably past your bed-time.”

 

His companion scowled. “I'm not above freezing you here and now, Kurosaki.”

 

“You could try.”

 

Two stubborn souls stared at each other unflinching. Toushirou was the first to give in and only because he was reluctantly admitting the truth.

 

“We'll have to do this again sometime.”

 

“Since we're friends and all,” Ichigo returned sarcastically.

 

They exchanged glances again, both very warily conceding to the bonds of friendship.

 

“Better than Renji,” Ichigo added, as if to assure both of them that there was clearly no other alternative.

 

Toushirou inclined his head. “And better than being force fed candy,” he admitted.

 

“Then, it's a deal.”

 

“Fine.”

 

*****