baroqueworks | 02. A beber y a tragar, que el mundo se va a acabar.

Temperance
Series: Bleach
Characters: Kurosaki Ichigo, Arisawa Tatsuki, Madarame Ikkaku, Ayasegawa Yumichika, Iba Tetsuzaemon, Zaraki Kenpachi.

July 16, 1927.

Ichigo slouched low into his chair, behind his desk, and idly massaged his temples while the math professor droned on. His shirt was already damp with sweat and sticking to his back and the seat, even though a window was wide open. The day was muggy, humid and stifling, and if he weren't so intent on taking classes in the summer, he wouldn't even have showed up. Tatsuki kicked him lightly on the back of his seat and he turned around to look at her when the professor moved to write something on the board.

"You okay, Ichigo?" Tatsuki smirked, then mimed taking a drink. "Not hung over, are you? Even Asano's okay, I saw him this morning."

"You should talk," he hissed back. "You didn't even drink. And Keigo sneaks his dad's whiskey out of the cabinet."

Besides, his headache had faded to a dull throb and he wasn't even as nauseous as he was when he woke up to throw up at four in the morning.

"You actually looked okay for most of the way back."

"Mizuiro brought over another bottle of... I think it was wine, when we got back to the dorm."

Tatsuki raised an eyebrow, then gestured that the professor was done writing and settled back down into her seat. "Oh, wow. Did you even wake up for your morning classes?"

Ichigo shook his head, smirking, then muttered, "Yeah, barely," as he turned back around. He uncapped his pen, then ripped out a small piece of his notebook before messily scrawling a note. your birthday's tomorrow, right? want to go back to WS? He folded it over twice, faked a yawn and dropped the note onto Tatsuki's desk when he stretched his arms back. He heard her unfold it, jot down a reply, and caught the message as it sailed back over his shoulder.

Well, it is my turn to get blitzed.

Ichigo nodded so that she could see, then crumpled up the note and stuffed it into his pocket. Keigo would want to go back, too. Tatsuki fought almost constantly with Chizuru, but they were friends, sort of. He turned around a little and whispered, "Invite everyone," before going back to taking notes.

Orihime was the one to bring up that it was nearly Tatsuki's birthday earlier that day, though he had known for a few weeks already. Keigo had agreed immediately, decided not to bring up his sister (she had more fun going out with her own friends, really), and Mizuiro told them that he'd meet them there; he had a date. Chizuru agreed to go along at Orihime's invite. Mostly because Orihime was going and not really because it was Tatsuki's birthday or anything, though she did buy her a new set of handwraps.

"The thing is," Rukia said, leaning forward, elbow on her knees, "if you said you would call, then you should probably have called. Or at least, you know, sent a telegram."

Renji let his face drop into his hands and massaged his eyes. "I said I might. I think."

"Well maybe you should have, um." Renji knew her well enough to know she was smiling innocently, but Rukia's tone very clearly implied that he was being a dumbass. And she was having immense amounts of fun at his expense. "Thanked her for the good time, you know?"

"Oh my god. I was so drunk, Rukia, I didn't even remember her name 'til she walked in an' tried ta make me get her another free drink."

Kira shook his head and leaned back into the couch. "Where did you meet her, again?"

"That's the thing, I don't remember."

Rukia flashed him a wicked, knowing smile. "Renji, your tolerance is awful. Haven't I already told you not to drink so much without adult supervision?"

"It wasn't that much! I didn't even black out, and I swear to god I didn't know this woman."

Kira chipped in, "Could you have met her the last time you blacked out? I'm sure that's possible, considering the frquency at which you drink yourself to senselessness."

"No, but the weird thing is, I know her name but I don't remember where I met her and I can't just ask now. If I met her while I was blitzed, I wouldn't remember her name, right?"

"I suppose it's a step up from knowing where you met her and not knowing her name," Rukia said while she leaned back with her arms crossed over her chest and put her feet up on the table. "Not a very big step, though."

Renji's glare looked more like a helpless plea for mercy than any true glare, and Rukia couldn't keep mocking him without feeling like she was kicking a dog that was already down for much longer. She relaxed into the couch and patted him sympathetically on the arm, then the shoulder when he let his head drop into her lap. "Rukia," he sighed dejectedly, "what the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Explain the situation?"

"But she'd hate me!"

"So?"

"Have you seen her legs?"

Rukia deadpanned, "Oh, right. How could I ever forget about the gams on that one. I suppose you'll just have to keep supplying her with drinks until she's too drunk to remember you asking her where exactly you met her."

"Do you think that's a--"

"No, Renji. I was being sarcastic."

Kira made a sympathetic sound and flashed Renji an understanding look. Or at least, it sounded sympathetic to him; Rukia thought it sounded more like a choked-back laugh than anything else and he had painfully schooled his expression into one that didn't look so much as if he was enjoying himself. He coughed politely into a pale fist, then leaned over the small table to glance at the book she had open on the table and read the first two or three paragraphs. "You’re taking a chemistry class?"

"It seemed like fun. Harder than it looks, though." Rukia absently flipped through a few pages, then ran her fingers along the edge of the cover. "I'm not taking any summer courses and Brother said I should probably get started on studying before fall classes actually begin, so I am."

A door slammed open, startling all three of them. Iba had a heavy, uneven stride but he seemed at home. But despite the limp (or maybe because of it), he looked no less threatening than any of the other men who worked at Wandering Souls. He pushed his sunglasses up his forehead, then gestured, as if he were tipping an invisible hat. "Well if it ain't Kuchiki Rukia. How's kicks? School goin' alright?"

She nodded politely, then smiled. "Mr. Iba. Everything's fine. I'm not taking summer courses, but my grades have all been decently high."

"Your brother?"

"Taking care of business in Chicago."

Iba nodded absently to acknowledge Renji, who had sat up abruptly, and Kira, then reached into his back pocket for a smoke. "Chi-town ain't bad this time of year. And boss?"

"Jersey," Renji piped up. "There's a shipment today, he wants you to bring the truck around to the Jersey side of that tunnel they just finished building. Faster than havin' to ship it across the river, y'know? Suppliers won't move out of state and it won't all fit in our truck."

"Couldn't just drop it off at Fulton," he muttered. Iba asked around the unlit cigarette in his mouth, "When's that shipment from South America coming in?"

"Few weeks, dependin' on the weather. Hisagi and Kira are gettin' that one."

"Got it. He give a time for the pickup?"

Renji draped his hand over his eyes, leaning back so his shoulders braced against the top of the couch. "'Bout one, but you should probably show up at half past midnight. You know how Yumichika gets. I'd go with ya, but you need room in the truck."

"Wouldn't want to put up with your blabbin', anyway."

Renji flipped him off, then grinned at Iba's smirk. "Where you goin' now?"

"To get lunch."

"Grab me somethin'?"

"Get it yourself."

Rukia elbowed Renji hard in the side, flashing Iba a michievous smile. "Mr. Iba's going through all the trouble of picking up that shipment, and you want to give him even more work? For shame, Renji."

"Yeah, Renji," Iba jeered, "for shame."

Kira smiled mildly and stood up, patting down the leg of his pants to make sure they were still straight. "I'll head in with Mr. Iba and bring something out for all of us, then."

"Aw, you don't hafta do that. Redhead don't deserve it."

"Hey!" Renji scowled, then nodded in Kira's direction. "Really 'ppreciate it, Kira."

Nemu leaned back against the wall from her spot on the bench, ledger open over her knees. Nanao pushed her glasses up her nose and turned back to her customer. Well, sort-of customer. More like close-friend-and-business-partner-to-Wandering-Souls-management and therefore a very esteemed customer and therefore unbootable, no matter how much she might want to evict him from the premesis. "Welcome back, sir. And how is Mr. Ukitake?"

"He's getting by."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Shunsui leaned on the counter, idly ran his hand over the stubble on his chin and grinned at her. "Nanao-chan! And is that Miss Nemu back th-- it's been a while since I've seen you lovely ladies. I would love to stay and chat, but I do have some business to attend to. Where's Kenpachi?"

"He is out of state at the present time."

"The boys?"

Nanao opened her mouth, then closed it, eyebrows furrowing. She turned around slightly to look at Nemu, who answered, "Accompanying him."

"Damn. Well, I've got a note to pass on to him from the old man himself. Normally I'd hand it off personally, but I trust that the two of you will get it to him unmolested." Shunsui frowned, then tugged on the hem of his deep gray vest to straighten it out a bit. He reached into his pocket, extracted an envelope that had been folded in half, and then slid it across the counter. "And I know that faith is not misplaced."

Nanao nodded, deftly removed the letter and handed it back to Nemu, who tucked it carefully under the cover of the ledger. "Of course. Is there anything else I might help you with today?"

"That's all. Thanks, and have a lovely day."

Nemu flashed him a small smile (warmly returned), and when Nanao's head tilted just slightly back so the sunlight from outside glinted threateningly off her glasses, Shunsui shouldered the door open with a tip of his hat.

A knock from under Nanao's feet prompted her to look down and move aside, bending down to hook a finger into the ring attached to the trap door of the floor and tug it up. "Mr. Iba."

"Kira's right behind me," he said, jumping to hook his fingers on the edge of the trapdoor, then hauling himself up. "Got anything to eat up here?"

"Of course. What would you like?"

Ikkaku took a long drag on his cigarette, already nearly burned down to the filter, and glanced over his shoulder at where Boss was negotiating with the ship's captain. They didn't need his entire stock of alcohol-- Wandering Souls was busy, but expensive and upscale. One of those few speakeasies that never watered down its inventory, and its patrons were moderate drinkers. Anyone who drank too much to walk straight would usually be kicked out before they could make any trouble. Their voices were low so neither he now Yumichika could hear the conversation, but that wasn't really his concern.

He cracked his neck, closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of tobacco and ocean, idly toeing off his shoes. He could've fallen asleep, but the seat was uncomfortable, and they were outside. Straining his ears to try and make out words from the rumble of conversation inside the cafe, Ikkaku eventually gave up when the sound of uproarious laughter from the table closest to the door drowned out any other sound.

"I think," Yumichika said abruptly, snapping Ikkaku out of his daze, "we should visit Atlantic City more often. The sunset from the beach is impressive."

"Unless sand gets in your shoes," he muttered back, tone both exasperated and warm. Ikkaku did crack open an eye to glance at the shore, though, gaze flicking along the sand and down the boardwalk. Not looking for anything in particular, but scanning the area for anything suspicious.

"The sunset from the boardwalk just removed from the beach is quite impressive," Yumichika amended with a wry smile. He checked his watch, then leaned back, arms crossed over his chest.

"Heh." Ikkaku grinned, crossed an ankle over the opposite knee and flicked some ash off the end of his cig before putting it out. "We're always down here anyway."

"But we never have time to just relax anymore. It's always for work."

"Yeah?"

Yumichika declared, "I don't like it!"

"Work? 'Cause I gotta say, bein' in Aizen's territory makes me pretty fucking nervous too."

"No, I like that. It's sort of fun. Not doing anything but work is so tiring."

Ikkaku nudged his ankle under the table, then bent down to undo the laces on his two-tone shoes and put them back on. "We'll go somewhere next time we got a couple days off, then. Coney Island's beach ain't bad. Amusement park, too."

"What are we, ten?"

"What's wrong with amusement parks?"

"How much amusement do you really need?"

Picking his hat off the tabletop and dropping it back onto his head, Ikkaku drawled, "More than what I get, you jaded, cynical bastard."

"Why hello there Mister Kettle, it's been far too long." Yumichika bit off the rest of what he was going to say, flashed Ikkaku a sharp smile, then looked over his shoulder to nod at a signal from Kenpachi. They stood up simultaneously, falling into step behind the taller man as he passed, conversation forgotten.

Tatsuki flicked a folded-up piece of paper onto Ichigo's desk, then leaned back against his bed with his pillow clutched to her chest. He idly unfolded the slip, checked the address on it and then pushed it to the side to continue studying. "It's the place?"

"Yep. Mizuho can't come and Mizuiro's gonna be late, so I got the address from 'em." She added a few seconds later, "We lost both our Mizus. And is it just me or are all the cats who work at WS really cute? I'm not imagining it, right?"

"Wouldn't know. Ms. Rangiku, though--" Ichigo yawned, turned the page, then dipped his pen and jotted something down. "Now tell me whether or not you're actually going to study?"

"I already did this afternoon." Tatsuki let a brief silence pass, then, "Seriously though. I'd talk to Orihime but she's studying and Chizuru's..."

"Don't know why you bother to tell me." He glanced at her and retorted, "So tell me why you're here. Right now. Interrupting my studying."

"Got bored."

"So go bother Inoue."

"She's studying."

"So am I!"

Tatsuki retorted defensively, "Well I haven't had a chance to bother you since you stopped coming to practice. I only ever see you on your birthday and in class now."

"Well I'm gonna see you tomorrow too. You want to sleep over, that's fine but just let me study." Ichigo idly blotted his pen and then grinned at her. "I'll probably be up all night anyway."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." She leaned across the table, then tugged the textbook off the desk to rest in front of her. Ichigo turned his seat, notebook open in his lap, then made a face at Tatsuki when she prompted him to shut it. "C'mon, we'll do it like this. Give me the first ten elements in the periodic table."

"Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium, Boron, Carbon, Nitrogen, Oxygen, Flourine, Neon." Ichigo paused, counted them off on his fingers and then glanced at Tatsuki. "That's ten, right?"

"Yep. Tell me everything you know about Hydrogen through Boron. I want atomic number, properties-- whatever you remember." Tatsuki stretched her legs out in front of her, dropping onto her back and holding his notebook over her face. "Hope you memorized these bullet points."

Ichigo groaned and dragged his hands down his face.

Yumichika leaned against the truck, backs of his thighs braced against the bumper, and ticked something off in a little notepad. He slowly breathed in the smell of the ocean, brushed his hair behind an ear and then looked over at the stack of crates Ikkaku stood in front of. "Twelve cases of gin."

Ikkaku shook his head and lit up a cigarette. He looked over his shoulder at Yumichika, then waved idly at the crates, putting out his match at the same time before flicking it off the dock into the water. "Fourteen."

"It's supposed to be twelve."

"We got fourteen 'cause they're one crate'a whiskey short."

"Price?"

"Same."

"Fair enough, I guess. Boss knows?"

Ikkaku clenched the cigarette between his teeth, then worked his fingers under first crate, grunting as he hefted it up, letting all its weight settle against his chest while he moved it into the back of the truck. "Yeah. He negotiated it."

"Then it looks like we're done for the day. This would probably last us a few weeks to tide us over until the South American shipment. He's paying right now?"

"Yeah." Ikkaku let the bottom of the crate settle into the truck, pushed it in a little, and then turned to grab another one. Yumichika put his shoulder to the box, shoved it farther inside and then jumped into the back to drag it in and make some room. By the time they finished, Ikkaku was slowly moving his arm in a wide circle, bones of his shoulder cracking as it turned in its socket. "You're driving, Yumichika."

"Just don't fall asleep."

"I know you'll miss my company too much," Ikkaku said, smirking back.

"Well you know how your chatter keeps me awake on long drives."

"My chatter?"

They exchanged grins, and Ikkaku fished the keys out of his pocket to toss to Yumichika. The hulking silhouette and heavy steps of the man strolling back up the pier raised a hand and gestured for them to get moving.

It was dark, so the truck went slowly. Yumichika knew Atlantic City's backroads well enough not to need guidance, but they followed the car in front anyway. Ikkaku slouched low in his seat, eyes fixed on the vehicle ahead and the hulking shadow of their boss in it.

Zaraki Kenpachi was a man who conducted business with the same brutal efficiency he did everything else. His reputation followed him wherever they went, and after seeing what had happened to the first poor bastard who tried to cheat him, no one else had ever attempted the same. He might not have been properly schooled, but Zaraki was about as far from stupid or uneducated as anyone could get.

Ikkaku wasn't unerringly, blindly obedient. Had never been, could never be, and their Boss had given them the chance to break off, but they had stayed. Yumcihika had considered it himself, early on, but Ikkaku's ambitious streak had died when he nearly did, and he wasn't about to go off on his own.

Yumichika glanced over to the passenger's seat, reached across and tugged lightly on Ikkaku's sleeve. "I know you're tired," he said, choosing to be selfish because he knew Ikkaku wouldn't mind, "but you're still not allowed to sleep."

"Not asleep."

Yumichika frowned. Ikkaku had always been the more talkative of the two of them around other people-- he liked the attention, mostly, and it was easier to pump someone for information when you pretended an interrogation was a conversation. He'd never seen the need for that around Yumichika, so it was up to the younger man to fill in their silences. "Do you think Tetsu-san got the message?"

"Well I told Renji to pass it on, so he should've." Ikkaku let a mild smirk show, then leaned halfway out the window with his cheek against the palm of his hand. "So if he ain't there, he's either dead or Redhead's about to get the beating of his life."

Yumichika was silent again, but when they pulled off the road, drove a short way into a cluster of trees and stopped in a clearing where Iba was waiting, he said, "Looks like you won't have to worry about that."

Ikkaku stepped out of the truck, shutting the door behind him to join Kenpachi, who had a briefcase that Iba had brought in hand. Yumichika moved to the other car, popped open the back door to lift the last two cases of gin out. He passed one to Ikkaku, then took the lighter one for himself. "Tetsu-san~"

"Yo, Yumichika. Ikkaku."

Yumichika deftly avoided Iba when he tried to take the box off his hands, but motioned for him to pop the trunk open. He practically chirped, "How was your trip? Not too boring, I hope."

When they finished moving the cases, Yumichika wiped his hands on his slacks, then hooked his thumbs into his pockets, bumping Iba lightly on the shoulder.

Ikkaku nodded in his direction, silently seconding the question, then brought a cigarette up to his lips.

"Wasn't too bad. Didn't wait long, either." Iba handed Ikkaku a matchbook. "Negotiations go alright?"

"Pretty sure they did," Ikkaku replied, taking a long drag and blowing smoke rings while they waited for Kenpachi to hand over the briefcase and wrap up negotiations. "Boss doesn't look too worked up or nothin', but they made us wait outside."

Yumichika nodded, then idly leaned back against the car again, swiping his hand in front of the headlight to watch the shadows of his fingers on the ground. "How's your leg, Tetsu-san?"

"It's fine. It's been fine. Route's clear on the way back, too." Iba leaned back against the car's hood, arms crossed over his chest, foot braced against a tire, and then tilted his head in the direction of the main road. "We're lucky, it'll stay that way."

Ikkaku flashed him an annoyed look, ground his cigarette out on the trunk of a tree, then rapped his knuckles against it. "The hell d'you go and say that for?"

"Just 'cause I say it doesn't mean it's suddenly gonna make it not true, idiot."

"Well yeah, but you don't know that," Ikkaku retorted, ignoring Yumichika's skeptical expression. "It's bad luck, anyway."

Yumichika shook his head, elbowed his friend in the side, leaned against him and smiled. "And here I thought we make our own luck."

"Some cosmic help never hurts. Thought you'd know better than to tempt fate."

"Oh, I do. It just seems silly when you assume someone else tempting fate is going to affect you, is all."

"How many times do I hafta--"

"Hey, Yumichika," Iba said abruptly, interrupting the argument before they could settle into their old routine, as if remembering something, "mind if I speak to Ikkaku alone for a second?"

"I think Boss needs my help anyway," Yumichika replied, gracefully bowing out of the conversation. Zaraki Kenpachi never needed anyone's help, and from the looks of it, he had the conversation handled. Iba wasn't about to call attention to that, though. Telling Yumichika to find a better excuse next time was asking for pain and at least some sort of vengeance.

Ikkaku yawned, ground the heels of his palms into his eyes for a second, shook his head to clear it and then nodded at Iba. "What is it?"

"Kurotsuchi. Came in without makeup this morning, she's got a shiner under her left eye." When Ikkaku opened his mouth, Iba held up a hand to stop him. He didn't miss how the younger man's eyes narrowed and his lip curled into a lopsided snarl, though. "Wouldn't talk to me when I asked her about it. You already know what I think."

"I'll corner her later. When's she get off tonight?"

"Not 'til we get back. Should Boss know?"

"Nah. This is small stuff. It gets serious, he'll find out anyway." Ikkaku took one last drag on his cigarette, then dropped it to the ground and snuffed it out with the heel of his shoe. "But knowin' them, there probably isn't much I can do, either."

Kenpachi sighed-- a slow, deep rumble from the center of his chest-- and the old captain's go-between, who had introduced himself as Smith, who he had finally settled on a price with, took a hurried step back. Kenpachi regarded him impassively, quirked one thin eyebrow and fished a wad of cash out of his back pocket. "Next shipment in three months."

"We can negotiate it now."

Just as he turned his head to call for Yumichika, the smaller man brushed past him and extended his hand to Smith. "We can, and I expect that next time, you'll have our order exactly how we asked for it."

Kenpachi didn't miss the glint in Yumichika's eye, or the predatory way he smirked. Zaraki Kenpachi had never been the sort of man who enjoyed bargaining, so he stepped back to let him work his magic. Besides, that was one of the many reasons he had kept Yumichika around. Ikkaku was the backup muscle and numbers guy (almost never necessary, but convenient) and Yumichika handled the small-talk and negotiations. Most of it was scoring them a better deal than Kenpachi would have bothered pushing for otherwise.

"We did compensate you," Smith said, immediately defensive.

"Compensation doesn't mean much when you fail to deliver on a promise."

Kenpachi knew that if he were on the other side, Yumichika would have nothing to complain about. Probably would've pressed for a loyalty discount instead of mercilessly homing in on every little fall and misstep, instead. He was grateful, not for the first time, that Ikkaku hadn't been enough of a bastard early on to make Yumichika end up working for some other criminal with too much time on his hands.

The ride back to New York thrummed with Yumichika's smug satisfaction over a job well done.

Kenpachi felt himself relax as he stepped into Wandering Souls' main lounge. Lights dimmed because it was just about three in the morning and most of the patrons had either already left or were in the process of shuffling out. He heard a delighted Ken-chan! from a couch, eyebrow quirking as Yachiru launched herself over the edge of it and sprinted to him for a quick hug before he set her back down. "Ken-chan! Tadaima!"

"English, brat." Ikkaku dodged a sharp kick from her, handed over the box he'd been moving from the car to Renji, and then extended a hand for her to grab before swinging her up onto his shoulders. "You ought'a speak it."

"I do speak it, Cueball."

"You ain't tired, ya little monster?"

"Nuh-uh," she chirped, patting him lightly on the side of his head, "I napped all afternoon."

"Well, we're done for the day too, so you're gonna hafta go back to sleep soon anyway."

"Don' wanna."

"You got school tomorrow."

Yachiru rested her cheek against the top of Ikkaku's head, immediately conjuring images in his mind of when she was still little enough to get away with chewing on it. Ikkaku threw a wide-eyed, pleading look in Kenpachi's direction.

For once, he decided to take pity on his subordinate and lifted Yachiru off Ikkaku's shoulders as easily as if she were a cat or a doll, tucking her under his arm while she cheerfully squirmed in his grasp. "We're goin' upstairs."

"G'night everyone!"

Ikkaku covered his mouth with his arm, then yawned into his elbow before dragging Hisagi and Kira aside, instructing them to help Renji bring in their new shipment. Matsumoto pressed a drink into his hand and Rukia, from her perch on a couch's armrest, raised a hand in greeting.

"Well if it ain't Kuchiki Rukia," he said, face breaking into a wide grin. "Where's your brother?"

She beamed back. "Chicago. It's a pleasure seeing you again, too."

"Waitin' on Renji?"

"Yes."

He finished the drink, then set it down on the table. "Almost done here. You seen Kurotsuchi?"

"She's in the office. Miss Ise left a little earlier." Rukia scowled when Ikkaku's hand dropped onto her head and he ruffled her hair, but it quickly turned into a grudging smile. "Anything I can do to help, let me know," she added.

"Thanks, kid."

"No problem."

Ikkaku caught Nemu by the door into the office, first by her elbow, and then he stepped in front of her to block off her path. "Hey, Kurotsuchi."

"Madarame," she replied, then fished the envelope she had received that afternoon from the bag slung over her shoulder. "I have a letter from the commander."

"I'll get it to Boss tomorrow," Ikkaku said, taking it, tucking it into a pocket inside his vest and then regarding her face for a few long seconds. When Nemu finally realized what he was looking for, she moved to duck around him, stopping in her tracks when his grip tightened painfully on her arm.

She put up some token resistance when he grabbed her chin and forced it up to get a closer look at a livid bruise under her eye. Nemu thought she had covered it pretty well, but supposed that after so many hours and in a certain light, it showed through. Her father was usually more careful, but even when he wasn't, most of the crew still knew better than to interfere. Iba probably hadn't been too subtle about it, either, if his stubborn look from across the room meant anything at all.

Ikkaku's fingers on her jaw stung, but Nemu didn't flinch. He ran a thumb over the ridge of her cheekbone, smudging makeup away while his expression grew darker. Voice a low, dangerous murmur, he asked, "What's this?"

"Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing."

"It really is, Ikkaku," she replied impassively, but he didn't miss the silent plea in her tone. He didn't miss the way she had switched to his first name, either.

"Nothin' like, I-hit-myself-inna-face-with-a-baseball-bat or nothin' like my-old-man's-just-got-nothin'-better-to-do-sometimes?"

Nemu stiffened, then pulled his hand away from her face and absently covered the bruise with her palm, though she couldn't completely suppress a small smile. Of course he'd consider accidentally beaning himself in the face with a bat to be nothing. In her practiced, calm voice, she rattled back, "I failed to complete a task my father assigned to me in an adequate manner, so I was punished."

There were a few long seconds of silence on both their parts before Ikkaku's expression softened and he tiredly dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. "God fucking damnit, Kurotsuchi."

"My apologies."

"Look-- don't. Go get some ice on that."

She knew he couldn't do anything about her father-- Kurotsuchi Mayuri was way out of Ikkaku's league in terms of connections, seniority, power. She could appreciate the sentiment, though. If it were nearly anyone else in all of New York, he would've had them down on their knees begging for her forgiveness, if she or Iba hadn't gotten to them first. "Ice is really only effective in the first few hours afterwards, and only for numbing pain. I have, already."

"You should stay here. In this joint. He doesn't come around a whole lot, just say I'm givin' you a lotta work or somethin'. Hell, I'll tell Boss I need ya around."

Iba stood just within earshot, and exchanged a quick look with Ikkaku. Nemu shook her head and squeezed him on the upper arm. "I'm fine."

"The hell you are, Kurotsuchi. Don't let it happen again, or I'll do somethin' about it. Or Boss will."

Nemu sighed quietly, decided she needed to be a bit more careful next time and pulled away, nodding.

"Iba's gonna give you a lift back to your place once we got everything unloaded," he said, normally calm expression edging right into frazzled territory. "Meantime, finish up inventory with Yumichika."

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