(no subject)
Three random scenes from my head that hold no connection to each other or anything else I have ever written :P
Ichigo had a flashing blue toothbrush sticking out between his teeth when a message on Skype popped up in the corner of his laptop. Grinning around the minty rubber, the seventeen year old hastily stuffed the folder in his hands into his backpack, bounded over to his desk, flopping down into his chair and knocking over his pencil pot in the process. Laughing, he typed a quick 'hello' into the computer, and then set about picking up his felt tips from the carpet.
HITSUGAYA.T: Good evening.
So polite, thought Ichigo, chewing the brush in his mouth. Shaking his head at his friend's manners, he crossed his legs and typed up a reply.
ICHIGO.KUROSAKI: Morning! You up for a call?
HITSUGAYA.T: If you're not busy.
ICHIGO.KUROSAKI: When have I ever been busy :)
He got a request for a video call just seconds later, and Ichigo rolled his eyes and 'accepted' it. The neon light at the top of his laptop flickered on in response, and his own beaming face tucked itself away as his screen was filled with the early-morning yawn of his internet friend. There was a mug in Tōshirō's delicate, pale hands, and Ichigo didn't even have to look to know two things: 1) it contained green tea, not coffee, and 2) the words 'HAVE YOU TRIED TURNING IT OFF AND ON AGAIN?' were printed in crisp, bold letters onto the china.
"Morning," Ichigo repeated cheerfully, Tōshirō's bedroom basking in a soft glow from the morning sun behind him. Ichigo's own room was dimly lit by a ceiling light, the curtains to his left hiding the gloomy night sky from view. This was standard for them, so it was the sole reason why the greeted each other with the opposite introductions than what their time zones were currently telling them. "Wow. You look like you crawled out the wrong side of the bed this morning."
Tōshirō glared at him, turning the mug in his hands to try and prevent them from burning. "Rin kept me up all night - he wouldn't stop whining, and I couldn't kick him out."
Rin was Tōshirō's German Shepherd, though his full name was Hyorinmaru. He was very antisocial for a dog, but took it upon himself to guard Tōshirō every second that they were in the same building together. He was about half-way through his life though, so when Tōshirō settled himself down at the computer to talk, Hyorinmaru was usually found curled up at the end of his bed, his long snout buried under one of his large paws.
"What's wrong with him?" Ichigo asked, peering over the other's shoulder to see the dog in question sleeping on the rug by the wardrobe.
"I don't know," sighed Tōshirō, sipping his tea. He followed Ichigo's gaze, frowning deeply when he turned back to the camera. "He must have eaten something funny last night."
Pressing his lips together, Ichigo softened his gaze. "Ah, he'll be fine. Remember that time he took a tumble down the stairs and got up like nothing had happened?"
Tōshirō snorted, his amused jolt rippling his tea.
"Don't you see?" Ichigo bellowed, lunging out to grab Renji's shoulders. Renji startled, his own hands rising automatically to grip his friend's forearms, a defence and a protection in one sweeping motion, his face grimacing when Ichigo gripped him tight. Nails digging into the red-head's haori, the younger of the duo shook with frantic words, "It's a test! A test to see if we're pure of - "
His words broke off with a sharp inhalation at a sickening crunch from behind him, and, feeling nauseous, Ichigo spun around as Renji's eyes widened with horror. The crack of bones grinding abnormally was a sound repulsive enough to make any man cringe, and the two unyielding taicho were no exception to this. Apprehensive of what he would see, Ichigo turned to see the white-robed spirit from before holding Tōshirō's pale face between her delicate hands. His disbelieving eyes reflecting Tōshirō's wide ones, Ichigo had just enough time to register the unnatural angle at which his husband's neck was twisted, before the spirit sighed almost dreamily, and let him go.
Tōshir crumpled to the ground.
The spirit laughed gleefully, clapping her murderous hands together as her eyes dazed with mirth at the two taicho's mirrored expressions of terror. "He's dead, he's dead!" she chimed, dancing in the air above Tōshirō's immobile form like a ballerina, her silver crown almost slipping from atop her golden locks. "You warriors are so stupid! Why worry about swords and battles and honour when you can just break someone's neck?"
Her laugh rose up in pitch to manic; her smile widening to reveal a perfect set of shining teeth.
"Necks are to easy to break!"
She sighed again, happily, with delight, and in a blink of an eye she appeared before Ichigo, floating over his shoulder. Renji tried to grab her but she just giggled and back-flipped in the air, hovering lazily and staring at Ichigo's broken expression like a child absorbed in their favourite bed-time story. "Oh Ichigo, Ichigo, Ichigo," she hummed, running her fingers up the side of his neck. However, only Renji had narrowed eyes for her - Ichigo's were fixed on the crippled heap of his husband, lying just a few metres away. She didn't really seem to mind though, smiling sweetly at the sixth division taicho before gently patting Ichigo's chin closed.
"This is your second test, Ichigo Kurosaki."
Only then did he glance at her, his fearful expression hardening into a fierce and undeniabl hatred. She laughed at this, blew the two men a kiss, and then disappeared completely, her enchanted giggle echoing behind.
Their front door was unlocked when he arrived home, not an unusual sight in itself, but as Ichigo ran his fingers up the edge of the door, tracing the deep scratch marks and the holes where the dark paint had been chipped away, careful not to catch his skin on the splinted wood and the remains of the lock in the frame, he knew that this time was anything but customary. He reigned his spiritual energy in, coiling it away into his inmost being so tightly that it was a rope ready to snap at the smallest flicker of a flame, and gently pushed the defeated door to allow just enough room for him to slip inside.
He didn't bother closing it - that would only bring the potential of giving himself away to whoever was inside - and glided down the hallway, his senses high on alert and his hand tucked up by his ear, fingers flexing for the hilt of his zanpakuto. The house was still, as it normally was when Toshiro arrived home first, because he was not a man of noisy actions, or unnecessary words, but this only encouraged the fifth division taicho to tread cautiously towards the calamity waiting for him. The living room and kitchen were empty when he passed - the former untouched and the latter with an empty tea cup as the only sign of life - and as Ichigo turned to the 'L' shaped hallway that situated the two guest bedrooms, both bathrooms, and the master bedroom at the back of the house, he heard the low hum of their walk-in-shower from the closest doorway. An irrational thought sparked in his brai (was Toshiro still in the shower, despite the break in?) ut when he edged his way into the larger, family bathroom, it was clear that he was grasping at the wrong straws.
The shower a running, but the bathroom was completely empty of people, save himself. He frowned, spinning three hundred and sixty degrees on the spot to scan the room for any clues. The neatly folded piles of clothes in the corner told Ichigo that his husband had been in the shower, but the missing towel from the radiator and the wet footprints on the floor both suggested that Toshiro had finished with his shower - and eft. Confused, because the shower wa still running, Ichigo reminded himself that there must be more to the mystery than what he was seeing, and took a deep breath.
He was no Sherlock Holmes, but his observation skills would have to do. Firstly, though, he stepped closer the shower and reached inside to turn it off, soaking his arm in the process but not really caring. He had just brushed his fingers against the metal before realizing he was making a mistake - he retracted his arm as if the water was burning him, mentally cursing himself for almost doing something s stupid.
If he could hear the shower running, then he was pretty sure whoever was in the house could too. Turning it off would be just as effective as screaming 'I'm in here!' at the top of his lungs, and revealing his presence was not something he wanted to do. He sighed heavily and wrung out his sleeve, the warm droplets of water dripping from his fingertips and swirling a pale red down the drain -
Red?
He lifted his hand up, numbly rubbing his bloody fingers together. It wasn't his own - he wasn't hurt - which meant i had o be Toshiro's, an tha meant that his husban ha been in the shower, because there was blood on the hot water knob and he had just touched it -
Dammit to Hell, Ichigo though that explained why the bathroom door was open when he had walked in!
If Toshiro had been in the shower then the door would have bee closed, but he never locked it so it could be opened from th outside!
Hurrying out of the bathroom, Ichigo took a left and followed the trail of wet footprints along the wooden floorboards and up to the master bedroom, his heart pounding and his spiritual energy fraying at the edges, desperate for release. He spied the open door and straightened his back accordingly, sucking in a breath through his nose as he stepped forward with a long stride, the eyes of the three strangers in the room glowing with a predator's gleam at his arrival. There were two lurking in the side of his vision - one by each wall - and the third was standing by the end of the double bed, a short blade twirling between his fingers. He was standing side-on to Ichigo, though this didn't undermine the slight curl of his lips when he noticed the orange-haired taicho, and while his left hand played with the weapon, his right ghosted above Toshiro's shoulder, keeping him perched on the end of the bed without having to exert any force.
Ichigo's eyes immediately sought out those of his husband, and Toshiro's teal ones shone like a storm, anger dwelling beneath them. Ichigo took this as a good sign - if Toshiro was mad enough to have the 'when I get out of this I'm going to punch somebody' look on his face, then it was likely that he wasn't seriously injured, and this allowed Ichigo to focus on the situation without losing himself in concern for his other half.
Of course, he was still concerned. Not only was Toshiro in close proximity of a weapon, he was also only clothed in the towel missing from the bathroom. Luckily it was quite a large towel, even for one of Ichigo's proportions (which Toshiro was certainly not), but it didn't chance the fact that beneath the soft material his husband was wearing nothing, and that thought angered him more than anything. It wasn't that Toshiro was incapable of defending himself, or that somehow having no clothes meant he couldn't put up as much fight as normal, but how vulnerable being so bare made people feel. Ichigo would much rather go to battle with his uniform on than without it, just because having those layers over his skin gave him, not only some protection, but a sense of security. His fighting skills would be the same either way, but clothed he wouldn't feel weak, small, or humiliated.
That was how Toshiro was feeling at that moment - embarrassed beyond belief. His toes were curled into the carpet, and the hand that wasn't keeping the towel closed around his shoulders was clenched in his lap, his skin flushed and sweaty. It wasn't just a battle instinct keeping his back straight and muscles tense, but a deep desire to not let his enemy see him so exposed and fragile.
"Where is it?" asked the middle man, throwing up the blade one more time before swinging it between his index finger and thumb.
Ichigo raised his chin defiantly, catching Toshiro's approving smirk as he did. "You'll have to send your goons looking for it," he challenged. "Isn't that what you broke in for?"
One of the men in the corner of his vision jolted at that, feet jerking in a half-movement that suggested he had orders to stay put.
Self-indulgent and easily angered, Ichigo thought I can go with that.
"I'm not stupid enough to think you've left it unprotected in your house," continued the one with the blade. "But your usband " He spat the word. " - seems to think that's exactly what you've done."
"Huh," Ichigo said lightly, frowning in disbelief. "Maybe you should listen to him - he's cleverer than me." The three man all let out various noises of frustration that made Ichigo wonder exactly how unhelpful Toshiro had been to them. Seeing the look on the other taicho's face answered that question for him though, and his mouth expanded into a grin. "Come on then," he went on, throwing his arms wide. "Search me then, see if I care."
The twitchy man went to take a step forward, but the other revealed that he, at least, had a bit more sense than his companion by interrupting with a shocked, "He's still got his zanpakuto on his back you idiot!"
Ichigo promptly removed Zangetsu in response, holding it out in one hand. The two subordinates had stiffened into defensive poses at the move, and the leader had grabbed Toshiro's towel and twisted it around his knuckle. Ichigo wasn't concerned - if they honestly thought he would be able to swing such a large zanpakuto around in his house, then they were obviously more stupid than he had previously thought. Sighing, because nobody was approaching t take his weapon away, he took matters into his own hands and threw it over to the more sensible one of the duo. With a startled cry the man clumsily caught it, dropping to the floor under the sheer weight of it with a strangled groan. The guy to Ichigo's right dashed over to help him, and as they both tried to heave Zangetsu into a more manageable position, Ichigo channeled a burst of spiritual energy into his zanpakuto.
The men were flung across the room in a flicker of black fire that licked its deadly tongue in the air between them, tasting for enemy presence. The third man brought up his arms to try and defend himself against the attack, but Ichigo just wrenched them away and punched him solid in the jaw. There was a resoundin crack, and then the only people left conscious in the room were the pair of unimpressed Kurosakis, eyeing each other with something that may have been a fond approval.
"I suppose we best call Soifon in on this," Toshiro sighed, the hot tension slipping away to pale his features once again. Ichigo rubbed the back of his knuckles and turned to him, finally feeling comfortable with fully running a medical gaze over his partner. Toshiro was still clutching the towel around himself, and now Ichigo could see that he was shivering, the icy water drooping his hair trickling down his pulsing neck. He carefully traced one of the fresh, purple marks with his fingertips, tutting as the extent of Toshiro's scratched and bruised skin came to light.
If they weren't already out cold, Ichigo would gladly knock the trespassers out again.
"Having a nice shower, were you?" he asked, trying to lift the mood, and remembering that the water was still running down the hall.
Toshiro hummed in agreement. "It didn't last very long though."
Ichigo smiled and pulled his husband up onto his feet. "Have a bath now then, we can call Soifon later." He glanced down at the heap at his feet, nudging it with his shoe. "Eh - best bind them with a kido. Do you think Soifon'll ask many questions if I stick them to the ceiling?"
He receive the look or that. Chuckling, Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck, and decided to leave his revenge for when Toshiro asn't n the room.
Ichigo had a flashing blue toothbrush sticking out between his teeth when a message on Skype popped up in the corner of his laptop. Grinning around the minty rubber, the seventeen year old hastily stuffed the folder in his hands into his backpack, bounded over to his desk, flopping down into his chair and knocking over his pencil pot in the process. Laughing, he typed a quick 'hello' into the computer, and then set about picking up his felt tips from the carpet.
HITSUGAYA.T: Good evening.
So polite, thought Ichigo, chewing the brush in his mouth. Shaking his head at his friend's manners, he crossed his legs and typed up a reply.
ICHIGO.KUROSAKI: Morning! You up for a call?
HITSUGAYA.T: If you're not busy.
ICHIGO.KUROSAKI: When have I ever been busy :)
He got a request for a video call just seconds later, and Ichigo rolled his eyes and 'accepted' it. The neon light at the top of his laptop flickered on in response, and his own beaming face tucked itself away as his screen was filled with the early-morning yawn of his internet friend. There was a mug in Tōshirō's delicate, pale hands, and Ichigo didn't even have to look to know two things: 1) it contained green tea, not coffee, and 2) the words 'HAVE YOU TRIED TURNING IT OFF AND ON AGAIN?' were printed in crisp, bold letters onto the china.
"Morning," Ichigo repeated cheerfully, Tōshirō's bedroom basking in a soft glow from the morning sun behind him. Ichigo's own room was dimly lit by a ceiling light, the curtains to his left hiding the gloomy night sky from view. This was standard for them, so it was the sole reason why the greeted each other with the opposite introductions than what their time zones were currently telling them. "Wow. You look like you crawled out the wrong side of the bed this morning."
Tōshirō glared at him, turning the mug in his hands to try and prevent them from burning. "Rin kept me up all night - he wouldn't stop whining, and I couldn't kick him out."
Rin was Tōshirō's German Shepherd, though his full name was Hyorinmaru. He was very antisocial for a dog, but took it upon himself to guard Tōshirō every second that they were in the same building together. He was about half-way through his life though, so when Tōshirō settled himself down at the computer to talk, Hyorinmaru was usually found curled up at the end of his bed, his long snout buried under one of his large paws.
"What's wrong with him?" Ichigo asked, peering over the other's shoulder to see the dog in question sleeping on the rug by the wardrobe.
"I don't know," sighed Tōshirō, sipping his tea. He followed Ichigo's gaze, frowning deeply when he turned back to the camera. "He must have eaten something funny last night."
Pressing his lips together, Ichigo softened his gaze. "Ah, he'll be fine. Remember that time he took a tumble down the stairs and got up like nothing had happened?"
Tōshirō snorted, his amused jolt rippling his tea.
"Don't you see?" Ichigo bellowed, lunging out to grab Renji's shoulders. Renji startled, his own hands rising automatically to grip his friend's forearms, a defence and a protection in one sweeping motion, his face grimacing when Ichigo gripped him tight. Nails digging into the red-head's haori, the younger of the duo shook with frantic words, "It's a test! A test to see if we're pure of - "
His words broke off with a sharp inhalation at a sickening crunch from behind him, and, feeling nauseous, Ichigo spun around as Renji's eyes widened with horror. The crack of bones grinding abnormally was a sound repulsive enough to make any man cringe, and the two unyielding taicho were no exception to this. Apprehensive of what he would see, Ichigo turned to see the white-robed spirit from before holding Tōshirō's pale face between her delicate hands. His disbelieving eyes reflecting Tōshirō's wide ones, Ichigo had just enough time to register the unnatural angle at which his husband's neck was twisted, before the spirit sighed almost dreamily, and let him go.
Tōshir crumpled to the ground.
The spirit laughed gleefully, clapping her murderous hands together as her eyes dazed with mirth at the two taicho's mirrored expressions of terror. "He's dead, he's dead!" she chimed, dancing in the air above Tōshirō's immobile form like a ballerina, her silver crown almost slipping from atop her golden locks. "You warriors are so stupid! Why worry about swords and battles and honour when you can just break someone's neck?"
Her laugh rose up in pitch to manic; her smile widening to reveal a perfect set of shining teeth.
"Necks are to easy to break!"
She sighed again, happily, with delight, and in a blink of an eye she appeared before Ichigo, floating over his shoulder. Renji tried to grab her but she just giggled and back-flipped in the air, hovering lazily and staring at Ichigo's broken expression like a child absorbed in their favourite bed-time story. "Oh Ichigo, Ichigo, Ichigo," she hummed, running her fingers up the side of his neck. However, only Renji had narrowed eyes for her - Ichigo's were fixed on the crippled heap of his husband, lying just a few metres away. She didn't really seem to mind though, smiling sweetly at the sixth division taicho before gently patting Ichigo's chin closed.
"This is your second test, Ichigo Kurosaki."
Only then did he glance at her, his fearful expression hardening into a fierce and undeniabl hatred. She laughed at this, blew the two men a kiss, and then disappeared completely, her enchanted giggle echoing behind.
Their front door was unlocked when he arrived home, not an unusual sight in itself, but as Ichigo ran his fingers up the edge of the door, tracing the deep scratch marks and the holes where the dark paint had been chipped away, careful not to catch his skin on the splinted wood and the remains of the lock in the frame, he knew that this time was anything but customary. He reigned his spiritual energy in, coiling it away into his inmost being so tightly that it was a rope ready to snap at the smallest flicker of a flame, and gently pushed the defeated door to allow just enough room for him to slip inside.
He didn't bother closing it - that would only bring the potential of giving himself away to whoever was inside - and glided down the hallway, his senses high on alert and his hand tucked up by his ear, fingers flexing for the hilt of his zanpakuto. The house was still, as it normally was when Toshiro arrived home first, because he was not a man of noisy actions, or unnecessary words, but this only encouraged the fifth division taicho to tread cautiously towards the calamity waiting for him. The living room and kitchen were empty when he passed - the former untouched and the latter with an empty tea cup as the only sign of life - and as Ichigo turned to the 'L' shaped hallway that situated the two guest bedrooms, both bathrooms, and the master bedroom at the back of the house, he heard the low hum of their walk-in-shower from the closest doorway. An irrational thought sparked in his brai (was Toshiro still in the shower, despite the break in?) ut when he edged his way into the larger, family bathroom, it was clear that he was grasping at the wrong straws.
The shower a running, but the bathroom was completely empty of people, save himself. He frowned, spinning three hundred and sixty degrees on the spot to scan the room for any clues. The neatly folded piles of clothes in the corner told Ichigo that his husband had been in the shower, but the missing towel from the radiator and the wet footprints on the floor both suggested that Toshiro had finished with his shower - and eft. Confused, because the shower wa still running, Ichigo reminded himself that there must be more to the mystery than what he was seeing, and took a deep breath.
He was no Sherlock Holmes, but his observation skills would have to do. Firstly, though, he stepped closer the shower and reached inside to turn it off, soaking his arm in the process but not really caring. He had just brushed his fingers against the metal before realizing he was making a mistake - he retracted his arm as if the water was burning him, mentally cursing himself for almost doing something s stupid.
If he could hear the shower running, then he was pretty sure whoever was in the house could too. Turning it off would be just as effective as screaming 'I'm in here!' at the top of his lungs, and revealing his presence was not something he wanted to do. He sighed heavily and wrung out his sleeve, the warm droplets of water dripping from his fingertips and swirling a pale red down the drain -
Red?
He lifted his hand up, numbly rubbing his bloody fingers together. It wasn't his own - he wasn't hurt - which meant i had o be Toshiro's, an tha meant that his husban ha been in the shower, because there was blood on the hot water knob and he had just touched it -
Dammit to Hell, Ichigo though that explained why the bathroom door was open when he had walked in!
If Toshiro had been in the shower then the door would have bee closed, but he never locked it so it could be opened from th outside!
Hurrying out of the bathroom, Ichigo took a left and followed the trail of wet footprints along the wooden floorboards and up to the master bedroom, his heart pounding and his spiritual energy fraying at the edges, desperate for release. He spied the open door and straightened his back accordingly, sucking in a breath through his nose as he stepped forward with a long stride, the eyes of the three strangers in the room glowing with a predator's gleam at his arrival. There were two lurking in the side of his vision - one by each wall - and the third was standing by the end of the double bed, a short blade twirling between his fingers. He was standing side-on to Ichigo, though this didn't undermine the slight curl of his lips when he noticed the orange-haired taicho, and while his left hand played with the weapon, his right ghosted above Toshiro's shoulder, keeping him perched on the end of the bed without having to exert any force.
Ichigo's eyes immediately sought out those of his husband, and Toshiro's teal ones shone like a storm, anger dwelling beneath them. Ichigo took this as a good sign - if Toshiro was mad enough to have the 'when I get out of this I'm going to punch somebody' look on his face, then it was likely that he wasn't seriously injured, and this allowed Ichigo to focus on the situation without losing himself in concern for his other half.
Of course, he was still concerned. Not only was Toshiro in close proximity of a weapon, he was also only clothed in the towel missing from the bathroom. Luckily it was quite a large towel, even for one of Ichigo's proportions (which Toshiro was certainly not), but it didn't chance the fact that beneath the soft material his husband was wearing nothing, and that thought angered him more than anything. It wasn't that Toshiro was incapable of defending himself, or that somehow having no clothes meant he couldn't put up as much fight as normal, but how vulnerable being so bare made people feel. Ichigo would much rather go to battle with his uniform on than without it, just because having those layers over his skin gave him, not only some protection, but a sense of security. His fighting skills would be the same either way, but clothed he wouldn't feel weak, small, or humiliated.
That was how Toshiro was feeling at that moment - embarrassed beyond belief. His toes were curled into the carpet, and the hand that wasn't keeping the towel closed around his shoulders was clenched in his lap, his skin flushed and sweaty. It wasn't just a battle instinct keeping his back straight and muscles tense, but a deep desire to not let his enemy see him so exposed and fragile.
"Where is it?" asked the middle man, throwing up the blade one more time before swinging it between his index finger and thumb.
Ichigo raised his chin defiantly, catching Toshiro's approving smirk as he did. "You'll have to send your goons looking for it," he challenged. "Isn't that what you broke in for?"
One of the men in the corner of his vision jolted at that, feet jerking in a half-movement that suggested he had orders to stay put.
Self-indulgent and easily angered, Ichigo thought I can go with that.
"I'm not stupid enough to think you've left it unprotected in your house," continued the one with the blade. "But your usband " He spat the word. " - seems to think that's exactly what you've done."
"Huh," Ichigo said lightly, frowning in disbelief. "Maybe you should listen to him - he's cleverer than me." The three man all let out various noises of frustration that made Ichigo wonder exactly how unhelpful Toshiro had been to them. Seeing the look on the other taicho's face answered that question for him though, and his mouth expanded into a grin. "Come on then," he went on, throwing his arms wide. "Search me then, see if I care."
The twitchy man went to take a step forward, but the other revealed that he, at least, had a bit more sense than his companion by interrupting with a shocked, "He's still got his zanpakuto on his back you idiot!"
Ichigo promptly removed Zangetsu in response, holding it out in one hand. The two subordinates had stiffened into defensive poses at the move, and the leader had grabbed Toshiro's towel and twisted it around his knuckle. Ichigo wasn't concerned - if they honestly thought he would be able to swing such a large zanpakuto around in his house, then they were obviously more stupid than he had previously thought. Sighing, because nobody was approaching t take his weapon away, he took matters into his own hands and threw it over to the more sensible one of the duo. With a startled cry the man clumsily caught it, dropping to the floor under the sheer weight of it with a strangled groan. The guy to Ichigo's right dashed over to help him, and as they both tried to heave Zangetsu into a more manageable position, Ichigo channeled a burst of spiritual energy into his zanpakuto.
The men were flung across the room in a flicker of black fire that licked its deadly tongue in the air between them, tasting for enemy presence. The third man brought up his arms to try and defend himself against the attack, but Ichigo just wrenched them away and punched him solid in the jaw. There was a resoundin crack, and then the only people left conscious in the room were the pair of unimpressed Kurosakis, eyeing each other with something that may have been a fond approval.
"I suppose we best call Soifon in on this," Toshiro sighed, the hot tension slipping away to pale his features once again. Ichigo rubbed the back of his knuckles and turned to him, finally feeling comfortable with fully running a medical gaze over his partner. Toshiro was still clutching the towel around himself, and now Ichigo could see that he was shivering, the icy water drooping his hair trickling down his pulsing neck. He carefully traced one of the fresh, purple marks with his fingertips, tutting as the extent of Toshiro's scratched and bruised skin came to light.
If they weren't already out cold, Ichigo would gladly knock the trespassers out again.
"Having a nice shower, were you?" he asked, trying to lift the mood, and remembering that the water was still running down the hall.
Toshiro hummed in agreement. "It didn't last very long though."
Ichigo smiled and pulled his husband up onto his feet. "Have a bath now then, we can call Soifon later." He glanced down at the heap at his feet, nudging it with his shoe. "Eh - best bind them with a kido. Do you think Soifon'll ask many questions if I stick them to the ceiling?"
He receive the look or that. Chuckling, Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck, and decided to leave his revenge for when Toshiro asn't n the room.