taotrooper | [Bleach, Fruits Basket] Meme drabbles

etrangere, Furuba drabble.

"So! Your first dinner in this house, Yuki!"

"Aha..."

"Why the lack of enthusiasm! You're making your new roommate sad, Yuki," Shigure wept, or at least he seemed to.

"You're loudly overreacting again, Shigure."

The man sighed. Yuki might look exactly like Aya, but the teenager couldn't be more opposite of his elder brother. Shy, resentful, untrusting, apathetic. He was as cold as snow with anybody, afraid of human contact. As always, it was Akito's fault. Even if he had just moved with him "outside", he still couldn't be a happy boy. His past was haunting him, like it usually happens with the rest of the Cursed ones.

Shigure wasn't going to be like that. He promised himself he'd always look forward, and not behind. Seize the moment, be free.

"Come on, Yuki! The curry I cooked especially for you is getting cold."

"It looks weird."

"Just taste it! I bet it's decent." He smiled.

Yuki served himself, and raised the chopsticks to his mouth. He ate. Five seconds passed before the pale mouse's face changed to green. His hand went to his lips, and he made a run for it, the bathroom as his destination.

Shigure blinked. He smelled his own dish, like a hound, and had a bite. Immediately, he spitted the curry on the tatami, shivering from disgust. Maybe adding those vegetables wasn't such a good idea after all.

"We'll dine at a restaurant tomorrow, definitely."

For

elihice, Bleach drabble.

Around one in the morning, that Urahara guy had told him. So he had to be ready for everything. Uryuu dramatically opened his closet, and dressed up slowly like an American comic superhero who was about to save the world. Actually, the speed had nothing to do with it: it was hard to be quicker with his gloved hand. Stupid buttons.

The trousers and the habit, perfectly white and clean. The polished shoes, matching the outfit. And the best part: the short cape! He was so proud of its design! It fitted him so much better than the long ones.

He combed his hair and looked at himself in the mirror. Flawless. He adjusted his glasses on his nose, and defiantly glanced at his own reflection, practicing the cool way he'd look at the shinigamis during the fights. He had to show them he was not an arrogant brat; he had to show the Quincy pride.

He grinned, nervously, repressing his panic. Uryuu couldn't allow that.

Oh! He almost forgot the things he had to carry with him. He packed a first-aids box and his emergency sewing kit. The former was a bit lighter and smaller than his deluxe kit, the one he'd bring to his club sessions. The only difference was the number of thread reels: the deluxe one could store the double. He didn't think he would need a diversity of thread colors anyway. That's why it was an emergency kit.

At the last moment, he put himself some cologne. He remembered Inoue-san was going as well, and he didn't want to have a gorilla smell in front of her, unlike Kurosaki. He readjusted his cape.

When the clock hit one, a paint bomb went through the window, and creepy red words were written at the walls.

"What the hell?!" Damn Urahara and his wicked sense of humor. That would stain his walls, and it didn't seem that easy to clean up.

It's time, sensei, he thought. and ran to the door. Then he had a second thought.

He took a second cape from the drawers and put it inside his clothes. You never know.

Now I really am going, sensei.