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Title: Impulse Control
Author: Tyrror
Verse: Bleach!Verse
Rating: PG
Summary: Squad 11 has never been known for being extraordinarily responsible and Jason Todd is no exception. Some things, however, are simply too difficult to ignore. More so when they are deadly.

“Will you just DO something?”

Jason lazily opens one eye and glances at the man standing next to him. Whoever he is, he’s missing his left sleeve and appears to be slightly singed around the edges. His breathing is labored and his zanpaktou hangs heavy in one hand where he stands across the cobblestone road from the spot in which Jason is lounging, the sun basking down on him in all its radiant glory.

In the distance a male voice screams and something shatters.

“It’s one hollow,” the man finally responds after and inordinate amount of time. “Aren’t there, like, four of you or something? Handle it yourself.”

Closing his eye again, he hears the other man huff something that sounds vaguely like “Should have known,” before running off into the distance. There are several minutes of blissful, beautiful silence before Jason suddenly rockets upright to the sound of a million live puppies being run through a meat grinder and, okay, that probably not what is actually happening but his head is beginning to throb and he just needs to find a way to make it stop.

There is a blur of motion to his right followed by the sound of shattering tile before Jason realizes that the man who had just been yelling at him moments before was now lying dazedly in a rather large indent he appears to have caused in a nearby roof. The man groans unconsciously and Jason echoes the noise as he stands up and brushes the dust from his uniform glancing around for wherever he may have thrown his sword prior to his impromptu nap.

Eventually he spots the weapon lying several feet away in a spot just as sun filled as the one he had been occupying. An inch or so of bare steel extends above the scabbard as if it’s trying to work further into the warmth which Jason figures it most likely is and it glints slightly as he walks over to retrieve it. The street rumbles beneath his feet as he bends to retrieve it, a cloud of dust billowing past to the sound or collapsing stone and he sighs as he straightens back up, turning to face the oncoming threat.

It’s big, he’ll give it that.

The thing is at least four stories tall, a behemoth formed out of darkness and shaped vaguely like an egg. Two tiny arms and a pair of tiny legs that look far to small to actually serve a purpose and a pair of tiny, beady eyes are the only things that adorn the massive beast if you can overlook its mouth. That, however, would be quite the feat considering that, as far as Jason can tell, it simply is a walking mouth. Several rows of sharp teeth extend in a vicious smile from one non-existent ear to the other and they separate as the creature spots Jason standing tall in the center of the road, that terrifying noise streaks into his ears causing him to cringe.

“Oy!” his voice draws the beasts attention and the noise stops, his face relaxing back into the neutral mask he wears when he actually forced to give a damn. “Shut the hell up!”

The scabbard of his zanpaktou scrapes lightly against the ground as he takes a step forward, the entire sword dangling from a frayed loop of twine he appears to have fashioned into a harass and is now holding on to. There is an awkward moment in which the monster and the shinigami stare at one another before it’s lips part again and this time the screech is loud enough to shatter nearby windows. Jason doesn’t think.

“Fuck you!” he screams, wrenching his sword from its container and pulling his arm back only to fling the weapon like a javelin at the beasts rotund head. It sink in almost all the way to the hilt just below the creature’s hollow, directly between its tiny, beady eyes. A moment of stunned silence is suddenly shattered when two stubby arms which are far to short to reach the offending item scramble for it anyway only to fail. The sound of bricks tumbling echos through the street as the creature stumbles about in pain before smashing its own face against the ground and forcing the sword deeper, crying out in agony.

The beast seems to be too preoccupied to try destroying his eardrums again, which is a godsend, but as it stands the thing will destroy half of seretei in the next ten minutes with its flailing and Jason resigns himself to the fact that, as all the other nearby shinigami appear to have slipped into the realm of unconsciousness, he will have to deal with this. Reaching for his sword, his hand meets nothing but scabbard and a look of confusion crosses his face before he realizes what he’s just done and curses.

“Well fuck,” he states to no one in particular and a deep frown buries itself on his face. “Better get this over with.”

His scabbard clicks along the cobblestone floor beneath him as he starts the arduous walk forward, dragging on the end of its twine leash. This was not how his afternoon sun-nap was supposed to go.


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December 2012

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