Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to the maestro Kubo Tite.
The Taming of a Death God
Kurosaki Ichigo was a 5 feet, 8 and a half inch, orange-haired doormat where Kuchiki Rukia was concerned. She was the epitome of a blow to his adolescent ego and it pained him to admit it.
The girl refused to kowtow to his furious scowls or sharp tongue. Instead, with snap-kicks and skinny elbows flying, she rough-handedly put him in his place (more often than not, being the point below her one, dainty, victorious foot), and twisted his words around so hard it could've gone easily into a screw's niche.
It was as if she had found the universal button that made him tick, and seized the opportunity to stab at it every chance she got.
Ichigo couldn't win her, and resistance was not only futile but painful too. However, she was, oh, so wrong if she thought that he was going to lie down quietly and perpetually let her walk all over him.
Volatile by nature, he had become accustomed to having people be au fait with the fact that Kurosaki Ichigo, he of the unusual strawberry-blonde hair, was not someone you messed with. After Lesson One, the local hoodlums usually didn't return for subsequent tutoring.
Well, it was given that he came across stubborn louts once in a while. Hence, in each encounter, the youth took great care in drumming the doctrine 'Peace through Strength' into their thick heads. The creed ran along the lines of Leave Ichigo in Peace or you will have your ass handed back to you –along with a nice set of colourful bruises.
And then there was that whole 'Who's that Old Lady behind your shoulder?'-thing.
In most cases, the hooligan would stop, hands still raised in mid-punch, to throw him a blank or dubious look –and go: 'Who?'
And Ichigo would reply: 'That Old Lady. The one in a white kimono.'
A nervous look behind his back and the hooligan would face Ichigo again, shaken but blustering with the false bravado of someone who was tough enough not to believe in 'things that go bump in the night' or beings of the ethereal, leg-less category.
"Bullshit! Don' go thinkin' you can make me eat th–!"
"Nevermind. She said she's just your ol' grandmo–! Oh, leaving so soon?"
Ichigo smirked at the figure fleeing into the distance down the street. Then, he turned to the gently smiling, pepper-gray haired lady at the corner.
The youth bowed, addressing her. "Obaa-san. Please pardon the fracas earlier."
She nodded, hands folded demurely before her. "Not at all, young man.Now excuse me. I have to be on my way." She tsk-ed softly as her silhouette wavered and began to fade. "It's vexing –the amount of trouble that grandson of mine gets into. Do take care of yourself."
Even after passing on, these anxious guardian angels took it in their line of duty to keep an eye on the problematic generation –trailing after daughters, sons and grandchildren; chiding and advising them though their words went unheard.
Kyosuke-kun. How many times have I told you: spend more time with your family…
Ameri-chan, you're not taking care of yourself. You need a break from work…
Kurosaki Ichigo walked in their midst between the living and the dead, hearing but not listening to the voices around him –the boy who bridged the gap rendered by death.
oooOooo
"So what you're asking me for is: a solution to put an end to your misery?"
Ichigo's brows knitted as the corners of his lips turned down in a scowl. That wasn't exactly how he would have phrased question.
"I'm just asking what it takes to gain the upper-hand on Rukia once in a while. That would be a nice change from the usual."
Urahara Kisuke gave the boy a searching look from below the shadowed brim of his green-striped hat. Cogs were turning furiously in the mind of the shrewd businessman.
"Rukia's domineering nature isn't something new. Instead, I'd say it's something far older than the time you've been on earth." Urahara smirked. "Why the sudden need for change, Kurosaki-san?"
The boy's gaze slid sideways and upwards, avoiding Urahara's eyes.
Aa, Kurosaki-san. I can read you like a book. And unless I'm mistaken, there's more to the story than what you're telling me.
The shopkeeper shut his fan with a brisk snap and pointed it idly at Ichigo. "A kiss is the key."
The boy's forehead knitted further in confusion. "A… what?"
"For a frequent customer, I'll give this to you. Free-advice. No charge," he offered in a magnanimous tone. "Have you heard that a woman can be tamed with a kiss?"
The image of a circus ringleader in red-coat and black top hat cracking a whip to tame a roaring, clawing Rukia popped into his mind.Well, lion-taming probably wasn't far from what it took to make Rukia docile.
Ichigo's mouth fell open in disbelief. He clutched his spiky hair. "Are you actually proposing that I attempt to tame Kuchiki Rukia? And with a kiss as well! Are you mad? No. Am I mad for even listening to that unthinkable suggestion?"
Like hell it would work. And Kurosaki Ichigo was the heir to the Chrysanthemum Throne of Japan. Katherine the Shrew was no contest to the raven-haired Shinigami in terms of spitfire personality.
A kiss? He would probably have to revive Count Dracula from Transylvanian dust to give him guidelines on how to administer the Kiss of Death on Rukia. Because no ordinary kiss could possibly instill obedience in her otherwise.
"Isn't there any other way?" Ichigo said, dejected.
"Well, there's this drug that I could…"
Ichigo cut the shopkeeper off before he could finish his sales pitch. "No, thanks! I don't want to get hauled off to juvenile rehab for the use of some illegal substance from your storeroom."
oooOooo
The picture on the television screen flickered as Ichigo flipped through the channels. The bored youth switched from the local weather report… to wildlife documentary… to some cheesy, romance movie.
Ichigo narrowed his eyes at the screen. From the way the camera was focusing up close to the picture-perfect faces of the actor and actress, he could already tell what was coming next.
His finger hovered over the remote control. A sensuous mouth hovered over rose-red lips, drifting ever closer with each frame.
The expression on Ichigo's face switched from dull boredom… to a scowl of irritation… to crimson-red horrified embarrassment.
An infinite scream was passing through his brain.
No way am I doing that! To Kuchiki Rukia, of all people! No! No! NO!
The boy emphasized each refusal by whacking the couch soundly with the cushion clutched in his hands. To drive the point home, he sent the cushion flying like a frisbee across the room to hit the offending screen.
When he had come to from his fit of pique, cheeks flushed, breathing heavily –he realized that he wasn't alone in the living room.
Yuzu was looking alarmed at his sudden departure from sanity. Karin was beside her at the doorway, one hand on her hip and an incredulous look on her face. And behind them: Rukia, arms crossed.
Witnessed! Witnessed in all the glory of his Lameness.
"Onii-chan! Are you alright?"
Karin's gaze shifted from the scene on the television to her brother's sheepish face. She rolled her eyes and smirked. "Hmph! Ichi-nii is just facing some issues." She shrugged dismissively. "Leave him be, Yuzu."
"But… but…!"
Karin gently dragged the protesting Yuzu out of the room, leaving Ichigo alone with Rukia –an arrangement that he should have been grateful for in the crowded house. If he was serious about undertaking the whole 'Tame Rukia with a kiss'-plan, that is.
Between Kon pouncing on him with cotton claws and teeth to defend the Virtue of his beloved Nee-san and the rest of the Kurosaki's eaves-dropping on him and Rukia in plain sight –privacy was a non-existent dream.
"What are you watching?"
"Nothing," he answered curtly.
He definitely didn't want Rukia watching this drivel. She could get ideas. It was bad enough as it was. The hammy persona she portrayed for the benefit of their classmates at school was getting cutesier by the day. Her smile was so fake he wondered if the Anti-Piracy Act didn't apply to it.
"Fine. Then, that means we can watch something else."
He squinted at the CD in her hands. Oh, no. He groaned. "Chappy, the Rabbit OVA again? Give me a break!"
Her eyes flashed. "Are you going to fight me for the telly-vee?"
"It's t-e-l-e-v-i-s-i-o-n, Rukia," he said, relinquishing the remote control to her in defeat.
God forbid that he should actually go against her. She had no qualms about defacing him with curly moustaches of the permanent marker variety. When she had been afflicted with sadistic creativity the last time, he had attended school with a set of cat whiskers on his cheeks.
He hadn't been amused by his resemblance to freakin' Naruto dattebayo, dammit!
As the mindlessly happy Chappy theme song blasted through the speakers, Ichigo's eyes gleamed dangerously. If that was what it took to beat Rukia in a battle for dominance –then she could count on getting herself thoroughly kissed soon.
Oblivious to the scheming storm seething in Ichigo's mind, Rukia whapped the boy on the top of his head, bringing him out of his devious plotting. "Well, get your butt out of the couch! Don't hog the seat if you're not watching the show."
Ichigo rubbed the tender spot on his head and silently promised a rude awakening in the near future for Her Royal Highness of Pain. A revolution named Kurosaki Ichigo would arise soon to oust the Kuchiki Princess from the seat of her high and mighty throne.
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Author's Note: The title of the fic was an obvious spoof on William Shakespeare's 'The Taming of the Shrew'. Hence, the comparison Ichigo makes between Rukia and Katherine Minola, the Shrew from the original play.
It was mentioned in the Bleach manga that the person Ichigo admires the most would be William Shakespeare. This fic is somewhat a dedication to that. But mainly came to be because a few lines from Mirror Mask got out of control again to form a separate fic. (Slaps hand to forehead…)
The doctrine 'Peace through Strength' does exist, but its meaning was twisted to suit Ichigo's purposes. ;) The rough idea would be that military strength is a necessary component of peace.