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hibiscusangel15 · 3 years ago

Text

Rumors

Day 22 Prompt: there’s been talk about us

Summary: Rumors chased after Ichigo and Rukia their entire lives. People liked to gossip about their appearances. About their statuses. It was always the trivial matters that rubbed others the wrong way.

And then came the rumors about the nature of their relationship. For Day 22 of @ichirukimonth 2021.

Rating: Gen/K

*Also crossposted to AO3 and FFN!

If you like my fic, please consider buying me a coffee!

We fear that which we cannot see.

“Hey, have you heard?”

“That Kurosaki kid—”

“Yes, that Kuchiki girl—”

“No way! A delinquent joining our class?”

“Of course that untalented recruit is a noble. It’s the Kuchiki influence. I thought so, too!”

Rumors chased after Ichigo and Rukia their entire lives. People liked to gossip about their appearances. About their statuses. It was always the trivial matters that rubbed others the wrong way.

And then came the rumors about the nature of their relationship. A bit surprising, to be sure, but not altogether unexpected, given how petty gossip hounds could be. Just another bored rumor passed along the mill that would eventually be forgotten and replaced with something new.

They both denied it as firmly as they could. It never satiated others’ nosy appetites for long.

All those rumors fell away when she was whisked back to Soul Society. They were the last thing on his mind when he and the others fought to rescue her. He’d forgotten about them completely until she and the other Shinigami showed up during the next semester, unannounced, and the rumors started up again.

It didn’t help that she was living with him now, either.

“What’s the deal with you and Rukia-chan anyway?” Isshin asked while helping his son with the dishes. The girls were having fun getting to know each other upstairs, so he figured he’d step in.

Ichigo threw him a peeved side-glance. “What do you mean? She already told you she has no money or relatives here to help her.”

“So you volunteered to take her in without a second thought, huh?”

“You expect me to let her fend for herself?” The defensive edge in his voice made Isshin pause.

He smiled as he took a dish from the rack to dry. “No, of course not. You’ve always been the type to stick your neck out for someone in need. Why do you think your mom and I named you Ichigo?”

Ichigo said nothing, just continued washing dishes. If one good thing could be said about his punk of a son, it was the fact that he never flaunted his inner strength.

“You’ve never really had many friends growing up. For the longest time, the only friend you had was Tatsuki-chan and then Chad. Everyone else was too scared to try and talk to you. So I’m glad you’re putting yourself out there this year and making a bunch of new friends, Ichigo.”

His son’s face softened.

“That being said, you never answered my question, my son.” Isshin’s eyes sparkled with a single-minded pursuit. “Could it be you don’t trust me enough to tell me the truth? Or is it that you're too shy?”

That all-too-familiar scowl returned to Ichigo’s face. “What the hell’re you talking about, Dad?”

“There you go, dodging the question again! I’m talking about Rukia-chan! Is she, y’know, your girlfriend?”

“My...girlfriend?” A dish slipped from Ichigo's grasp and shattered into pieces.

“Aw crap!” he swore, stooping to the floor. “Sorry, Dad!”

Before he could reach for the largest piece, Isshin gently pushed his son's hands away. “Let me handle this, Ichigo. I don’t want you hurting yourself. Go get the trash can.”

“Dad, it’s no trouble. I can get it.”

Isshin paused. “To be honest with you, son, my joints ain’t as spry as they used to be. I probably can’t get up right now even if I wanted to.”

“Oh, what? You’re such an old man,” Ichigo said as he pushed himself up.

At that moment, Isshin slipped a small pill into his mouth. Urahara’s gigai tech might have been impressive when he was first gifted the thing, but damn was it getting more and more unresponsive as he got older.

After Ichigo cleared the shards away, Isshin let his son finish washing the dishes. It was the easiest way to trap him there, at any rate.

“Anyway,” he began again, “what is Rukia-chan to you?”

His son hesitated, brown eyes darting around as if he could pull some bullshit excuse from the murky dishwater.

He covered it up with yet another scowl. “We’re just friends. Sorry to disappoint you and Yuzu.”

“Aw, c’mon, Ichigo! Your sister and I are just curious!”

“You guys are way too keen about my nonexistent love life. Why don’t you two get lives of your own?”

“You kids might not understand this since you’re so young, but when you become a parent, your life revolves around your kids! That means your life is my life, too!” Isshin clenched his fist. “So c’mon, Ichigo! Tell me everything! Don’t be shy!”

“I’m not being shy. Quit bugging me.”

“Oh?” Isshin’s eyes gleamed. “Only a truly shy man would be so cold! Come now, my son! Confess your deepest, darkest secrets to your father!”

As soon as he tried to embrace his son, all turned black as his face rammed right into Ichigo’s elbow.

* * *

The girls upstairs heard a loud crash and Ichigo’s infuriated cursing.

Karin frowned at the floor. “There they go again. God, it’s so exhausting living with them. Sorry, you’re just going to have to deal with them for the time being.”

Rukia slapped on an innocent smile. “Oh, I don’t mind! I think a lively household is kind of fun!”

Another crash thundered through the house as the two men continued brawling away. Karin sighed. “Fun, huh?”

“I just hope they remember to clean up after themselves! I’d hate to clean the kitchen again when I already did it last weekend!” Yuzu said.

Rukia had heard their muffled fighting before when she hid in Ichigo’s closet. To actually bear witness to the Kurosaki family’s antics was another matter entirely. Compared to the piercing silence of the Kuchiki household, this was a much more comforting change of pace.

“Now don’t take this the wrong way, Rukia-chan.” Yuzu fidgeted on her bed . “But…um….”

Karin tilted her head back with a loud sigh. “She wants to know if you and our stupid brother are dating.”

“Karin!” Yuzu shouted, scandalized.

“It’s what you wanted to ask her since she arrived, right?”

“Dating?” Rukia repeated. “No, we’re just friends!”

“Just friends, huh?” Karin muttered.

“Yes, of course.”

“So you say.”

“Karin!”

“I’m just saying it’d be way more interesting if all this was some elaborate ruse for Ichigo to introduce his girlfriend to the family is all.” She flopped back onto her bed, letting her legs swing freely over the edge.

“That certainly would be more interesting, I suppose,” Rukia conceded. “Unfortunately, that’s not true. No offense to your brother, but he’s too honest to think of doing something like that.”

The three paused when Ichigo’s booming sneeze echoed up to them from downstairs.

Karin smirked. “Friend, girlfriend. It’s all the same to me, I guess.” She pointed a finger at Rukia. “You and I might get along swimmingly once you drop that nice-girl act and be yourself, though.”

Rukia blinked. And here she thought her human girl schtick would work here, too.

The smile that crossed her lips was softer, more natural this time. “You and your brother have the same instincts, I see.”

“I’d say I’m better at reading people than he is. He’s a big dope.” Karin waved dismissively.

Yuzu’s warm smile grew. “Whether you’re just friends with Ichi-nii or something more, I’m still glad to have you in our home, Rukia-chan! It’s nice to have more girls in the house for once!”

Rukia dipped her head. “I’m grateful that you’re letting me stay here without questioning my motives. I hope I won’t be a burden to any of you.”

“If you can keep my brother and my dad in line, you’d be more of a help than a hindrance,” Karin said. “Anyway, Yuzu tends to snore and fuss in her sleep, so I hope you can deal with that, too.”

Yuzu flushed and threw a pillow at her sister’s bed. “Karin! I don’t snore!”

Siblings showed the oddest resemblances to one another from time to time. Karin's teasing grin was so much like her brother's that it made Rukia smile in return. Ichigo then barged into the room and plunked himself on the edge of her bed to hang out with them. They all talked about their day and mocked each other in that special way only siblings could. It was warm and exasperatedly caring.

All those silly rumors that once passed around Karakura High about her and Ichigo dating would definitely escalate if anyone saw her living with him. It didn’t matter to her either way.

For once, she'd found a place where she didn’t have to worry about being judged. Rukia could dare to be happy. She dared to relax and laugh along with them. The Kurosaki family treated her like she belonged, and that was enough.

* * *

“Wait, they live together? Are you sure?”

“Of course! Kojima-san went to their house the other day to bring Kurosaki all the homework he missed, and he told me that Kuchiki-san was the one who answered the door! And she took it from him on his behalf! Like she was his girlfriend or something!”

“No way someone as pretty as her would be shacking up with a guy like that, right?”

“I don’t know. You remember how she climbed in through the third-story window and kicked him in the face and smacked him around? If anything, I feel sorry for Kurosaki.”

Now those rumors couldn’t be helped either. Rukia needed somewhere to stay, and like a little pest, she wormed her way into Ichigo's home and his everyday life. And with his month-long Vizard training going on, he wasn’t exactly around to put a stop to them.

The rumors really started to get out of hand once Ichigo, his friends, and all those weird kids who joined in the middle of the semester disappeared at the same time. No one knew where they went, or if they were even alive.

Some theorized that they had all dropped out to form a street gang. Others proposed the idea that Kurosaki and Kuchiki-san had eloped and invited all their friends to the wedding. All of which were extremely ridiculous, but who was to prove them wrong? Certainly not the subjects of the rumors themselves.

Oddly enough, both Asano and Kojima were the first to dismiss any rumors they heard. They seemed less enthusiastic about it, like their friend’s love life was no longer a fun puzzle to work out. They hung a lot more around Arisawa, who was equally morose and exhausted with it all.

Of course, this only fueled the wild rumors further. Perhaps they were bummed out that they weren’t included in whatever escapades Kurosaki and his other friends got involved with.

Then Kurosaki returned. Without any of those weird friends of his. Without that odd Kuchiki girl by his side.

Kurosaki Ichigo became a recluse, even among those he once called friends.

Perhaps they’d broken up. Maybe she had to move away.

The mystique of their relationship died down pretty quickly after that.

It was not until May of their final year of high school did rumors about Kuchiki Rukia returning circulate around the school. Someone claimed to have seen her hanging around Karakura again. With how eagerly Kurosaki cancelled the rest of his sports team contracts to leave school earlier, it seemed more and more plausible.

Inoue Orihime’s own confirmation that the Kuchiki girl was indeed back only fueled the flames. Apparently, Kuchiki Rukia and all the new kids had to move far away all of a sudden. No, they weren’t all a weird family. No, she would not return to Karakura High.

As for the rumor covering Kuchiki Rukia and Kurosaki Ichigo’s relationship status, Inoue, Arisawa, and Kojima were all tight-lipped on the matter. Despite their best efforts, Asano Keigo was not all that great at keeping secrets, and it only took a bit of pressure for him to crack.

“No, they’re not dating! Can you believe that?” he’d screech at anyone who would listen. “I swear, I’ve tried so hard to hook them up, but nothing I do works! Tell me, what’s a guy gotta do to help his dumbass friend score, huh?”

* * *

Rukia was in the middle of writing up a report when Ichigo decided to show up for an impromptu visit. Admittedly, it was nice catching up with him, but it did wreck her entire work schedule for the day.

Well, perhaps wreck wasn’t the right word for it. She didn’t mind his company. She just normally finished up faster than this.

The odd look her brother threw her when she requested that they be left alone put her off. It did not help that she had flushed when Renji raised a tattooed eyebrow at her before he left, nor the fact that the servants hushed their giggles when Ichigo looked over his shoulder at them.

“Hey, is something going on around here?” he asked after catching the latest servant stifling a smile as she passed. “The servants have been whispering to each other all day.”

That’s because you decided to barge in so blatantly like you live here, you fool, she wanted to say.

Rukia shrugged affectedly. “People like to talk.”

About us, to be precise.

Ichigo scoffed. “People are always talking about me like I’m some kind of freak because of my hair. I’ve never cared all that much about gossip. It’s all bullshit anyway.”

She set her brush down on the inkstone. “I see. You too, huh?”

“Too?” he repeated, finally looking over at her.

“You heard Nii-sama explain why I was adopted into the Kuchiki clan, correct?” She took his silence as a yes. “The Kuchiki name is a prestigious one, but that notoriety does not come without its costs. The moment I was adopted, I was immediately placed in Squad Thirteen despite never having graduated from the Shinigami Academy. I was deemed a product of nepotism, and the other squad members hated me for it.”

Rukia shut her eyes. The memory of Kaien’s warmth flickered in the back of her mind. That would be a story for another day.

“It may seem ridiculous to you, how such a thing could hurt me.” Her smile did not reach her eyes.

He shook his head. “It’s not ridiculous, Rukia. What’s ridiculous is all the stuff people assumed about you. They don’t even know you.”

“No,” she said. “But even worthless rumors can start to take their toll once enough of them build up.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m gonna change that.”

Her smile fell. “How so?”

“We’re friends,” Ichigo said without any hesitation whatsoever. “So anyone who talks shit about you gets the business end of my sword.”

“A little extreme, don’t you think?”

Ichigo snorted but said nothing else.

To alleviate the tension brewing around him, she teased, “And what rumors about yourself have you heard lately? I’ve heard quite a lot. I’ve even been asked to confirm a few, on occasion.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Rukia turned the various rumors over in her mind, struggling to find the best way to spin it. A joke perhaps? Could he laugh off something like this?

No, Ichigo would probably get embarrassed and storm off to find the cretin who started these unsavory rumors in the first place. She would assume such talk was unbefitting of those who served in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, but apparently she was mistaken.

“Nothing much. Petty gossip.” She continued writing her report as if such matters didn’t concern her at all. “About you and I, mostly. What we are to each other.”

Ichigo scowled. “Not this again.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“It’s like people don’t have anything else to do with their lives. Stop trying to live vicariously through us already.”

Rukia paused. “Live vicariously?”

“Yeah, it’s like when people try to experience stuff through—”

“No, I know what it means. But what did you mean by that?”

The moment he met her eyes, she understood. There was a frantic, helpless gleam to them, but even so, he did not dare look away.

It was not a challenge, but more a question. It was a plea. His confession.

“Oh. I see.”

“Look, I wasn’t trying to…. I mean, it’s not…. This wasn’t the way that I wanted to….”

Ichigo put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. When he finally sat up straight again, he looked her right in the eye. “Rukia, do you want to go out with me?”

“Oh?” She leaned her head in a hand, the corner of her mouth tugging up. “Are you sure you want to prove those rumormongers right?”

He scowled. “This isn't about them! I told you, I don’t give a shit about what other people think. It wasn’t the rumors that made me like you.”

“What a bold thing to admit.” She covered her mouth in mock surprise.

“Ugh, shut up! It’s hard enough to say as it is.”

Rukia began to laugh. “You’re so strange, Ichigo. I like that about you, though.”

He tried and failed to hide how red his face had become. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not.” Her smile became more genuine then as she reached her hand out to his. “I am happy you asked. Although, I hope you know that it is uncouth of you to drop in on a woman unannounced. According to what I read about courting in the World of the Living, it is also customary to have a chaperone along with us on our dates.”

“Yeah, that’s been outdated for centuries now. What the hell kind of books are you even reading?” he scoffed.

“How rude! And here I was, excited to ask Nii-sama to accompany us for our first date!”

“What? Don’t bring Byakuya into this!”

Their silly bickering echoed all throughout the courtyard. Even still, they did not let go of the other's hand.

* * *

"Hey, have you heard?"

"That Substitute Shinigami and Lieutenant Kuchiki are dating?"

"Why is this news? Weren't they already a couple?"

"Ah, I see! So I was right all along."

Years and years of speculation, only to have the confession be far more mundane than they hoped.

The funny thing about rumors was, once they were confirmed, they lost their appeal extremely quickly.

Another rumor soon came to take its place.

"Kurosaki Ichigo is a noble? No way!"

"Sure, he looks a lot like Lieutenant Shiba, but isn't he just a human?"

"You sure he didn't just marry into the Kuchiki family?"

And so it goes. And so the rumors circled back once again.

If you can say that your heart doesn't change

Then that is strength.

No, nothing can change my world.

The only time a petty rumor is actually one hundred percent true lol. But I mean, it's not hard to disprove with the way they're always looking at each other.

I suppose this fic can kind of fit in the same AU as Home and Clearing Away the Rain. Maybe consider it a prequel of sorts, if you like!

Thanks for reading! Until next time!

#IRMonth2021 #Day 22: there's been talk about us #Ichiruki #OTP: Black Sun and White Moon #Kurosaki Ichigo #Kuchiki Rukia #Kurosaki Isshin #Kurosaki Karin #Kurosaki Yuzu #Bleach #my fanfiction

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cheshiresense · 5 years ago

Note

Could you do KoyoIchi (Swinging Pendulum), please? C: I have fallen in love with this ship ever since you posted those short one-shots (or whatever they are called) a while ago.

Hmm you didn’t include an AU and I’ve already done a KoyoIchi SP AU in the last batch, there’s not much else I can write for that I think. So how about KoyoIchi post-canon AU instead, where Ichigo’s human body gives out after the Quincy War, so he ends up splitting his time between SS and the Human world afterwards.

Edit: omg wtf did i do i went off i’m sorry this ended up semi-background pre-relationship KoyoIchi + like a dozen unrelated headcanons thrown in it’s a mess fml

1. It’s not usually done, he’s technically dead now (but not a Shinigami, not a Quincy, not a Hollow, and not even a Human anymore), but he has a lot of support from a lot of people - Kisuke has no qualms crafting him a gigai that would allow him to draw his blade even without stepping out of it, and Kyouraku basically gives him free run of Soul Society after they hammer out what Ichigo is supposed to do there considering he’s now stronger than the entire Gotei combined but also he’s technically only eighteen years old.

(It would be scarier, Kyouraku thinks, if Ichigo’s moral fibre hadn’t already proven itself superior.)

In the end, they settle it like this - Ichigo attends the Academy part-time for all the lessons Kisuke and Yoruichi and Shinji never bothered hammering into him because it was never important to the war, attends university in the human world, and the rest of his time is his do with as he pleases, whether that’s taking missions directly from Kyouraku, visiting with his friends in various squads and being roped into doing paperwork, or digging up yet another rebel faction or secret invasion out of the woodwork (”Please don’t dig up yet another rebel faction or secret invasion out of the woodwork for at least a month, Ichigo-kun. One month, you hear? We still haven’t finished cleanup from the last one.”).

Because it’s Ichigo, it works. it’s not like he wasn’t already coming and going from Soul Society when he was still human. The Shinigami have let him get away with far too much already to put restrictions on him now, especially considering he’s saved all their asses twice over now, and that’s not even counting all the trouble in-between. If there are some who complain, well, there are even more who are capable of making sure nothing ever comes of it.

So okay, no rebel faction, no secret invasion, but Ichigo’s not Ichigo without something to work towards, and he’s always wondered why the Shinigami side of his family was slumming it out in Rukongai when they’re supposed to be nobility like Byakuya and Yoruichi. The answer is simple enough - Aizen had mind-whammied everyone after Isshin ran off and fabricated a coup that resulted in assassinations courtesy of the Second Division before the remaining Shibas were ousted from Seireitei overnight.

(It was only too easy for Aizen to make them believe it.Nobody ever questioned whether or not the Shibas could. They had the power. They just never had the ambition, which nobody could understand.)

No way is Ichigo going to take that lying down. So he goes and yells at Kyouraku, who says it’s complicated and would take time, but Ichigo reminds him of the Visored and Kisuke and Yoruichi and Tessai, all let back in in the wake of the Winter War. If they could be pardoned, and rightfully so, why can’t the Shibas too?

“I’m not saying they can’t forever, Ichigo-kun,” Kyouraku says placatingly. “But Central 46 will want… assurances-”

“You mean they’re scared to let my family back in cuz they might still be a little bit pissed from having three-quarters of their members murdered in their beds,” Ichigo summarizes flatly.

Kyouraku sighs and gives up all pretenses of a neutral party. “If you have a better idea…” He waves a hand at the general situation, eyes dark and intent on Ichigo’s face.

Ichigo snorts and straightens up. “Yeah. It’s called ‘being too strong to fuck with’. The old bastards are in session right now, aren’t they? I’ll be right back.”

One day, Kyouraku muses as he watches Ichigo go, this will probably not work, and it’ll come back to bite them all in the ass. Then again, Central 46 has run Soul Society their way or no one’s way for far too long; Yama-jii had always given them too much power. They’d learned nothing from Aizen, so maybe Ichigo is exactly what they deserve, straightforward and running on emotion, but fair, always, and decent in a way that Kyouraku thinks most of their government has forgotten how to be, if they ever knew to begin with.

One day, even Ichigo’s threats won’t make Central 46 back down. But a god doesn’t bow just because someone demands it, no matter how important they think their bloodline or rank or status is. And Ichigo is probably the closest thing they have to a god these days. A god, with plenty of friends to back him up if he needs it.

So Kyouraku leaves him to it - better Ichigo than him, less headaches in the long run - and he isn’t at all surprised when Ichigo sweeps back into his office five hours later, expression grim but triumphant, reiatsu still writhing like a living shadow around him as he informs Kyouraku that his clan will be needing their old estate back.

Kyouraku pushes over the paperwork he’d completed an hour ago, authorizing the full restoration and compensation of the Shiba Clan. Ichigo smiles at him almost fondly, features only slightly tinted with a banked sort of inhuman rage that he carries around almost constantly these days - it’s three steps left of his cousin’s memory, with Hollow glinting in his eyes and the shade of his ancestor draped across his shoulders. He’s gone again in the next moment, off to tell his family the excellent news, and Kyouraku thinks it was probably a good thing Yama-jii died when he did. However reasonable Ichigo still is, he is no longer that boy with the too-forgiving heart who took the insults they served him with all the doormatted self-sacrifice of a storybook hero.

(He came back from the Soul King Palace equal parts pensive and victorious, with old eyes and reiatsu levels they could no longer sense and a terrifying sort of detachment when he looked at them all. But his friends had fallen on him without care, only relief, and the icy distance in Ichigo’s mien had melted. Kyouraku had understood though, in that moment, that Soul Society would stand only so long as Ichigo allows it.

He likes Ichigo, he genuinely does. Jyuushirou had too. That hadn’t stopped his old friend from attempting to leash him, which had almost backfired in the end and literally only hadn’t out of the goodness of Ichigo’s heart, and it doesn’t stop Kyouraku now from catering to Ichigo’s whims. Only time would tell if this approach will work better or worse than Jyuushirou’s law-abiding one, and in the meanwhile, it doesn’t hurt that Ichigo doesn’t actually want anything Kyouraku doesn’t want to fix anyway. Soul Society has been his home for over nine centuries now. He does not want to see it burn. If that means dragging it kicking and screaming into a new era with a boy their world created to fight their wars for them looking over his shoulder, then Kyouraku will do it gladly.)

It takes almost three months for the Shibas to gather again and move back in. They’d scattered, after their exile, all across Rukongai, but Kuukaku is their head, and Ichigo has single-handedly wrested back their birthright for them, and when both of them call, the rest of the clan answers, trickling in in twos and threes and fours, suspicious and wary and not inclined to trust anyone but their own, but they come, and the first thing they do is raise wards around their home strong enough to withstand a siege from the Royal Guard.

“That’s everyone?” Ichigo asks, looking from the civilians to the once-Shinigami to the children. All in all, they barely make thirty total, and over half of them are from their retainer families.

Kuukaku shrugs tiredly at his side. She’s never looked older than she does now. “You know Isshin’s staying in the Human world for your sisters, but other than that, pretty much. Everyone else is dead.” She pauses. “Well, except one, but I doubt he’ll come. Kaien’s wife’s brother,” She adds for Ichigo’s benefit. “Koyonagi Senzou. He was the Kidou Corps Commander before Tessai, demoted to Academy teacher after some mission the higher-ups covered up. He was the only one the Gotei kept on after we were kicked out. Never found out whether he actually wanted to stay or if Central 46 insisted he stay. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter. He’s wasted at the Academy, too useful to kill but too dangerous to let out of sight. As far as I know though, he’s still there.”

Ichigo frowns as he digests all this. “And he won’t come by to see you guys?”

Kuukaku shakes her head. “I doubt it. He was never really one of us.”

“Why not?”

Kuukaku shrugs again. “He never wanted to be. I didn’t know him very well, Ichigo, but he loved exactly one person, and she was more or less killed under Kaien’s watch. It wasn’t Nii-san’s fault of course, but she was sent out on a mission given to her by the Thirteenth Division lieutenant, and she never came back. He attended her funeral. That was the last time any of us saw him, although our Shinigami members reported glimpses of him in and around the Academy over the years.”

Ichigo hums. Kuukaku gives him an arch look and then snorts. “Shall I prepare a room for him anyway when I start renovations?”

Ichigo grins at her. “That’d be perfect, Kuukaku, thanks.”

2. Of course Senzou has heard of Kurosaki Ichigo. You’d have to be living under a rock in a cave in a different dimension to not have heard of Soul Society’s God-Slaying Saviour.

And of course he’s a Shiba. That lot always was more trouble than they were worth, too powerful for their own good, and too reckless or too confident or too stupid - Senzou has never really figured out which - to hide it from the world or at least play it down to keep the world from turning on them because of it. No subtlety at all. And look where it got them in the end.

In the aftermath of the Quincy War, he hears of the Shibas’ return to the city, and he can feel the power in the wards they almost immediately erect around their home. For protection, no doubt, because old dogs can learn new tricks after all, but to Senzou, it just looks like a very pretty cage. Why they - or the Visored for that matter - came back to serve the very people who betrayed them in some of the worst ways possible is beyond him.

Not that it makes much of a difference to Senzou. He’d ignored them for decades before their exile; no doubt, he’ll happily ignore them for decades more. They’re related only through an unfortunate marriage, and considering both parties are long dead now, what little obligation he had to them likewise expired years ago.

But, he thinks, as he watches an increasingly familiar head of orange hair slide into his classroom, someone forgot to give that memo to the Shibas’ newest pride and joy. Even Senzou - with expectations that literally no student has ever met - can admit that Kurosaki Ichigo attending Kidou lessons is a complete waste of time. Senzou spends his days teaching idiots the incantations for each of the ninety-nine standard spells, trying not to scratch his own eyes out when he has to grade their papers, and making sure they don’t blow themselves up when they practice producing them. Even the most advanced of the sixth-years can only manage spells in the fifties range, with a fifty-fifty chance of average-at-best success.

Ichigo memorized all the incantations in the first two weeks he was here. His first essay on the use of forbidden Kidou - instead of a regurgitation of laws citing the illegality of them that everyone else turned in - became a dissertation on their pros and cons, arguing that every case in which they’re used should be thoroughly investigated not only by Central 46 but also by a panel of Shinigami, and why the laws against them should be amended to allow for unexpected circumstances. The brat even had the gall to throw in quotes of interviews he’d conducted, and if it had been anyone else claiming to have received firsthand and eye-witness accounts of forbidden Kidou usage from names like Tsukabishi Tessai and Hirako Shinji, Senzou would’ve set them on fire for being such a bad liar. He couldn’t even fail the boy for incomplete research because the books he referenced might not be found in the Academy library but they all had Urahara Kisuke stamped on them.

And his practicals? A high level of reiatsu usually means the caster would have a harder time performing Kidou, especially when they’re first starting out, too much power shoved into the lower-level ones, too little control to hold together the higher-level ones.

Not Kurosaki Ichigo. That boy spent the first week putting holes into everything except his targets, went away for a weekend, and then came back with singed eyebrows and bags under his eyes but a resolute set to his jaw and picture-perfect Kidou at his fingertips. He didn’t even need the incantations anymore. And to make him even more of an anomaly, he could perform spells right up into the nineties. In fact, the higher the difficulty and reiatsu output, the better he was with them.

There is nothing the standard Kidou curriculum from any year can teach him. His learning curve is insane, and his essays read like he’s gearing up to go toe to toe with Central 46, never mind an Academy class.

He doesn’t need to be here. Senzou knows it. The other students know it. And Ichigo most certainly knows it too. And with the special allowances granted by the Soutaichou himself, he doesn’t even need permission to skip. The boy’s been given unprecedented free reign to come and go as he pleases, and yet he comes back, week after week after week. He doesn’t even have the decency to sleep through Senzou’s lectures. He’s a flickering candle in the corner of Senzou’s eye, all flame-bright hair and brown-gold-brown eyes and shadows that won’t stop moving, and that unwavering attention he pins on Senzou every time makes it damn clear exactly what he’s waiting for.

Shibas. No subtlety whatsoever.

The bell rings. Bags are packed. There’s a scramble for the door.

“Kurosaki-chan,” Senzou calls in bored tones without looking away from sadistically adding an extra assignment to the board. If no one notices, that’s their problem. “Stay behind.”

There are some interested whispers and prying eyes, but one glance from Senzou sends them scurrying away. And then Ichigo is there, sauntering up with his perpetual scowl - not at all like Kaien this one. The two are as charismatic as each other, from what Senzou’s observed. But Kaien had people wrapped around his finger because he had a knack for putting them at ease and making them feel special and making himself both approachable and worth looking up to. Ichigo on the other hand scared a lot of people when he first showed up at the Academy with an armful of books and a gruff disposition that didn’t lend itself to making allies, let alone friends. He wasn’t arrogant, just introverted, but it made him the kind of genius that people resented.

And then Senzou caught him in the hallway one day, looming over a mousy-looking fifth-year student huddled on the ground, and at first, he’d thought Kurosaki was bullying her. Everyone’s golden boy, picking on a shrinking violet of a girl. But then Ichigo had stooped down and gathered up all the books spilled across the floor before offering them back to the girl. The girl had still cowered, but she’d accepted them, and when Ichigo reached out and hauled her to her feet, she’d flinched but hadn’t moved away once she was on her feet again and Ichigo had let her go.

Then Ichigo had told her, quite clearly, “Next time someone can’t keep their hands to themselves, break their fucking wrists. Or kick them in the balls. Or tell them to fuck off. Start a scene so they have to stop. Do something. Don’t just fucking stand there.”

And then he’d stormed off, and the girl - Fujiwara, from the Kyouraku family - had stared after him, all baby-duckling wide eyes. And the next time Senzou had happened across her, it was just in time to see her chuck one of her textbooks at the head of one of her bullies. Said bully had staggered back, and then purpled with anger, already moving forward with fists clenched. Half a second later, he was on the ground and wailing from a broken nose, and Ichigo was standing over him, murder glowing gold in his eyes and black reiatsu streaking his hair and pooling at his feet.

Nobody had touched Fujiwara after that, especially since the girl had taken to following Ichigo around. Ichigo had still scowled like no one’s business, he’d also been seen kicking Fujiwara’s ass in one of the training rooms, they studied together in the library, and they ate together in the courtyard when Ichigo happened to stay for that.

And gradually, other students joined in, tentatively, some nervous, some with hero worship in their eyes, all hopeful. Ichigo never turned any of them away, but one day, he started a debate in the library about laws that would take species outside of Shinigami into consideration that ended with raised voices and enthusiastic opinions that got the whole giggling bunch thrown out, and another day, he suggested a free-for-all game of tag where only Kidou could be used to catch each other which ended with everyone sweaty and gasping and wanting another round, and in calmer in-betweens, he answered when the others finally asked him about what Hueco Mundo was like, what the Material world was like, what Arrancar were like, what Humans were like, and he never lost his temper with them even when he had to explain something more than once.

He was still blunt and borderline rude and not at all like Kaien, like a Shiba, not outgoing or friendly or instantly personable. But the charisma was the same, people couldn’t help but be drawn to him, and it took weeks for Senzou to realize he was just as susceptible to it as Ichigo’s growing circle of friends within the Academy. So susceptible he was literally stalking him everywhere just to see what other chaos he was sowing.

That’s probably why he wants the boy gone so badly. He’d sworn he’d never forgive the Shiba Clan for taking his sister away from him, the only leeway they got was that he wouldn’t actively go after them either because Miyako wouldn’t want him to, and it wasn’t as if it was difficult to keep such a vow. He’d never liked the Shibas anyway. When they’d been slaughtered and cast out, and no assassins had shown up at his door in the aftermath, all he’d thought was good riddance.

But Kurosaki Ichigo…

Under any other circumstances, Senzou would be thrilled. Here is a student who challenged the world around him and brought a storm to the Academy.

But this isn’t any other circumstances, and as Ichigo stops in front of his desk, a beast glinting behind his eyes and a dead king’s inheritance pulsing in the shadow splashed at his feet, Senzou meets his gaze and slices a mocking smile in his direction.

“Kurosaki-chan,” He starts, smirk widening when Ichigo’s eyebrows twitch. “The Academy’s star part-time pupil. What exactly are you still doing in my class?”

Ichigo shrugs. “I signed up for it, your lectures aren’t boring, and I’m trying to figure you out.”

Senzou feels his smile grow fixed. “And how is that going for you?”

Ichigo scruffs a hand through his hair, pauses briefly to frown tug at the shoulder-length strands like he wants a haircut, and then shrugs again. “You’re the one following me around all the time, what do you think?”

They stare at each other for a moment.

“Let me make one thing very clear, Kurosaki-chan,” Senzou finally says. For once, he doesn’t feel like weaving his usual mind games. “I don’t know what your clan has told you, but I have no desire to play happy families with them. I know you Shibas tend to be all about bringing family together, but I am not one of you.” His lip curls. “Do not push this issue any further than you have. Am I understood?”

Ichigo cocks his head, something animal in the way he watches Senzou now. “Kuukaku agreed to reserve a room for you at the compound if you ever want it, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m not here for that.”

Senzou’s eyes narrow. “Then what are you here for?” He gives the boy a sardonic look and cuts him off preemptively. “Besides class.”

Ichigo grins, quicksilver bright, and something in Senzou recoils with surprise.

“I don’t really have a plan,” The boy tells him. “But I’m getting my family settled back in, and making sure nobody can fuck with them ever again.” He aims another considering look at Senzou. “If you don’t wanna be all buddy-buddy with them, that’s fine. It’s not any of my business if you wanna hammer your shit out with them or not. But you were connected to them even if you didn’t like it, and that doesn’t change just because that connection’s gone. So I guess what I wanted to figure out was whether or not someone’s fucking with you too.”

Senzou opens his mouth, then closes it when nothing comes out. How embarrassing. He settles for a derisive smile that feels a touch too brittle on his face. “I don’t need your protection, God-Slayer.”

Ichigo immediately makes a face. “Don’t call me that. And I didn’t say you did. But when I start something, I like to see it through, so I thought I’d check just to be sure.”

Senzou scoffs with disbelief. “Then why didn’t you just ask?”

Ichigo rolls his eyes like he thinks Senzou’s being dumb on purpose, which is a new experience for Senzou. Usually he’s the one rolling his eyes.

“Well you didn’t want me to, did you?” Ichigo says, looking exasperated now. “You were curious about me, and all the stalking was recon or whatever.” He levels a thoughtful look on Senzou before snorting with something like amusement. “You are the type. But yeah, anyway, now you know. If you need help, the offer’s open indefinitely. But I’ll stop coming to class if you don’t want me here.”

He trails off, arching an eyebrow in question. When Senzou doesn’t reply, the boy shrugs once more, adjusts the strap of his bag, and turns to leave.

Senzou… Well, he’s pretty much been on the back foot this entire conversation, hasn’t he? There’s something about Ichigo that just… throws him off. It’s frustrating. Unnerving.

And yet… Ichigo didn’t push. Kaien would’ve pushed. The rest of his family would’ve pushed. It’s what Shibas do when they want something - push and push until they get what they want, a single-minded persistence hidden under their signature cheerful geniality that makes the rest of the world believe them to be the nicest clan in all of Soul Society.

Miyako had said no, the first time Kaien had asked to court her. But he’d asked again and again, until she’d said yes, and she’d been happy to, Senzou had made certain of that, she’d been perfectly willing, had found a good man in Kaien and been glad she’d finally given him a chance.

But she’d said no first, and Kaien had pushed, and it just… rubbed Senzou the wrong way. Because once upon a time, Shinigami had plucked them out from Rukongai, dusted them off and provided the training and shuffled them into the military, all expenses paid, but no had never been an option, and that had become all the more true after Miyako became such a public, vulnerable figure, not only Third Seat of the Thirteenth but also wife of a clan head.

When Central 46 had come knocking, interested in Senzou’s prodigal skills with Kidou, they hadn’t even needed to drop Miyako’s name for Senzou to know that saying no then wasn’t an option either. He’d been pushed into their service, and it had taken Miyako’s death for Central 46 to finally leave him alone, solely because he had no one else for them to hold over his head.

It’s not the Shibas’ fault, not really. It’s been long enough that Senzou can admit that, if only to himself. Miyako’s choices were her own, and even if she hadn’t married him, Central 46 probably would’ve found another way to get to him through her. But Senzou has always been petty and vindictive at heart, and he’ll blame the Shibas for the rest of his life, because at the end of the day, they’re just like all the other nobles in this place. What they want, they’ll push until they get, because privilege is in their blood.

So Senzou flounders when Ichigo doesn’t push his advantage. The boy is already halfway to the door, and somehow, Senzou is certain, if he doesn’t say anything now, Ichigo won’t come back. It’s so wildly different from what he’d expected, so unexpectedly not-like-a-Shiba, that he has to fumble for something to say for an unforgivably long moment. Him, fumble. This whole conversation has been one unexpected surprise after another, and later, Senzou will blame the shock for his next decision.

“Wait.”

Ichigo stops and turns back. He doesn’t look surprised, but neither does he look triumphant or even just smug.

Senzou suppresses a grimace. “The school has nothing left to teach you about Kidou.”

Ichigo nods in unabashed agreement.

Senzou snorts softly. “But I do. And I guarantee it won’t bore you.”

Ichigo blinks, and a crooked smile slowly curls at his lips. It doesn’t erase his frown, but it softens his brow and makes his features look less harsh. “You sure you wanna teach me?”

Senzou scoffs and pulls out his chair. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” He gives himself a mental shake and drags a grin back onto his face, sharp enough to cut. “Sit your ass down so we can figure out a schedule, Ichi-chan.”

Ichigo instantly loses the smile and glowers like a thundercloud. Senzou all but basks in the familiarity of it, inwardly relieved at being back on steadier ground.

“Don’t call me that, asshole!”

He probably shouldn’t have offered, should’ve just let him go and good riddance. But Senzou hasn’t been taken so off-guard so quickly in a long time, and it had been frustrating and unnerving but underneath both…

There is a storm waiting on the wings of Seireitei, and Kurosaki Ichigo is the one holding its reins.

And Senzou. Senzou is just curious enough to want to see what that storm will bring.

3. “Did your hair grow three inches over the weekend?” Senzou asks the moment Ichigo walks into one of their weekly lessons.

Ichigo dumps his bag in a chair and scowls at him. His hair has been swept up into a bun, which is certainly a feat considering the last time Senzou saw him three days ago, it had only brushed his shoulders.

“This body is seriously shit at regulating itself,” Ichigo grumbles. “I didn’t have time to go to the barber’s, and Kuukaku threatened to shave me bald if I tried to chop it off with my Zanpakutou again.”

Senzou squints at him. “You realize that’s not normal.”

Ichigo rolls his eyes. “I didn’t have a knife on me, and it was getting in the way, okay? Don’t judge.”

This time, it’s Senzou’s turn to roll his eyes. “That wasn’t what I meant, Ichi-chan. Shinigami bodies don’t suddenly grow several inches of hair overnight.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ichigo mutters before shaking his head, and Senzou watches as black reiatsu crackles lazily across his shoulders. “I’m just kinda weird. Excess reiatsu plus funky biology apparently means random hair growth and dye jobs.” He shrugs. “Kisuke’s still figuring it out.”

Senzou hums noncommittally. “Urahara Kisuke. Your… mentor?”

Ichigo pulls out the books Senzou had given him last week, along with a notebook and the latest essay Senzou had assigned him. All are tagged with multiple sticky notes.

“Kind of?” Ichigo sounds like he isn’t all too sure himself and even less concerned about it. “He’s… Kisuke.”

Senzou eyes him curiously. “You don’t care that he basically engineered half your life then?”

Ichigo stills. Then he glances up with Hollow-gold eyes, and Senzou smiles and meets them without flinching.

“Why would you say that?” Ichigo asks in even tones, but the office suddenly seems darker.

Senzou shrugs carelessly. “Urahara has a bit of a reputation for… working outside the box. It’s not just me who thinks it, Ichi-chan. There aren’t many who knew him who wouldn’t take one look at you and guess that he had something to do with your existence.” He pauses. “Although admittedly, I suppose the worst of these rumours come from the ones who want him back most. Central 46 doesn’t benefit half as much without his skills in assassination and technological development. It must’ve been a blow to their egos when Urahara refused their invitation to come back after the Winter War. They might be hoping enough unease over any other projects he’s bound to be working on would be enough to make him come back under their protection-”

“That’s not called protection,” Ichigo growls, and Senzou stops, words withering on his tongue.

There is something about the black abyss of Ichigo’s unblinking stare that makes some base instinct in even Senzou want to back away, run, throw himself at this eldritch entity’s feet and beg for mercy. He squashes the urge and smiles like monsters don’t exist.

Ichigo blinks. The darkness in his eyes recede, and the room clears again, bright with the sunshine pouring in through the open window. A shadow passes over his face, and when he opens his mouth to speak, Senzou catches a glimpse of fangs.

“Well that sucks,” The boy remarks succinctly like the silhouette on the far wall behind him doesn’t outline a grinning mouth with too many teeth. “It’s none of their business anyway. Kisuke prefers his shop. He’s his own boss there, and he likes it that way. Central 46 will just have to deal with Kurotsuchi.”

He flips open his notebook and shoves his essay over. “Now come on, we only have an hour today, and you said you’d go over this bit with me.”

Senzou nods and drops the subject. But three weeks later, he laughs when whispers tell of five Central 46 members retiring from their seats, replaced by one Shiba elder, one Shihouin, one Kuchiki, and two seated officers from the Gotei, one of which has served long enough that she doesn’t mind semi-retiring, and the other who prefers more time at a desk job over constant fieldwork. Both have roots that trace back to the slums of Rukongai. Twelve days after that, the Soutaichou announces a new official position filled by Urahara Kisuke - Human World Liaison - and a team of his choice, effective immediately.

“You don’t waste any time,” is Senzou’s greeting the next time he sees Ichigo after that debacle.

Ichigo, seated on the edge of the Academy roof and surveying the rest of Seireitei (like a ruler looking over his kingdom), waves a dismissive hand that trails solid shadows through the air. “People who’ve never been Shinigami shouldn’t be allowed to judge them. Kyouraku-san agreed.”

“I’m sure he did,” Senzou agrees, fighting near-hysterical glee down to a chuckle as he drops down to sit beside Ichigo.

He wonders if this is what it looks like, for a man to crown himself without even trying while most of the world cheers him on.

He glances to the side, arching an eyebrow when he finds Ichigo watching him. “Yes, Ichi-chan?”

There’s a disappointing lack of irritable twitching this time, but the thoughtful look Ichigo has levelled on him instead is more interesting.

“I have finals starting next week,” Ichigo says abruptly. “So I won’t be coming by the Academy until I’m done.”

Well, less interesting than he’d expected. “I’ll pick up your assignments for you,” Senzou offers, feeling generous. It’s not every day Central 46 takes a beating. He doesn’t care about Aizen, but if there was one thing he did right, it was butchering the judiciary authority on the way out. One group of them anyway.

Ichigo snorts. Rude. “Thanks, but I was thinking, you could join me down there for once instead of me coming up to meet you here. I want to concentrate on my university exams, but I have to eat and stretch my legs sometime. If you want, I could show you around campus. Kisuke can lend you a gigai so you won’t even have to request one from the Twelfth and wait for the acquisition forms to be approved.”

The first thing Senzou wants to say is I can’t. Because he can’t. Central 46 can’t make him do shit anymore, but short of slaughtering his way to the Senkaimon or disappearing into the Rukongai and living out the rest of his life as a fugitive, he can’t leave Seireitei. He doesn’t hate it here so much that he’d prefer either of those options, but the truth of the matter is, this is as much his home as it is his prison.

(A very pretty cage indeed.)

So he can’t, but Ichigo isn’t stupid, he should’ve already figured it out, or guessed, if not from the start after whatever his family told him about Senzou, then in the five months since. Stuck at the Academy because he’s too much of a wild card to go on missions.

Ichigo isn’t stupid, but neither is he cruel, not to those he has no quarrel with - that much Senzou can accept as truth. That he’s bringing this up anyway…

So, “How?” He asks instead, raising his eyebrows when Ichigo actually barks out a laugh. And then his eyes widen when Ichigo twists fingers through the air, and a Garganta springs into existence beside them.

“This can take us there,” Ichigo grins. “And no one will ever even know if you don’t want them to.”

Senzou stares from him to the murky void and back again. “…Why?”

Why are you doing this? Why would you offer?

They’ve known each other for five months, six if you count the one Senzou spent studying him. Most of that time has been spent in private tutoring sessions, and it’s benefitted Senzou as much as it has Ichigo. He technically shouldn’t be teaching Ichigo even half the Kidou Corps secrets he’s already imparted, but Ichigo makes it worth his while - quick on the uptake, a challenge in the sparring ring, and a breath of fresh air from the tedious drudgery of teaching his other students. Occasionally, they even go out for meals, tucked away in a quiet corner of a restaurant or a food stand. And sometimes, Ichigo brings souvenirs back with him from his trips to the Human world - fiction, toys, tech, trinkets the living modern age has that Soul Society does not - and he gifts them not only to his friends amongst the students but also to Senzou these days.

It’s a friendlier relationship than Senzou thought he’d ever have with anyone outside his sister, doubly so for a Shiba. Then again, Ichigo’s barely that, thank the Soul King, even if he was raised by one of the worst examples of that clan.

“Why not?” Ichigo counters, like it isn’t downright unnatural for anyone to do anything for Senzou, mostly because he’d rather stab himself in the face than fall into anybody’s debt. People avoid him when they can because he is cruel, and that’s the way Senzou likes it. He has high standards and little tolerance for things that bore him. Nothing bores him as easily as people do.

Until Ichigo.

“You don’t wanna be stuck here all the time,” Ichigo continues. “And I have an easy way out. So yeah, why not?”

Senzou turns his gaze to the horizion, past the sprawling streets and buildings of Seireitei to the sun setting beyond the wall.

He looks at the Garganta again. When Ichigo doesn’t move to stop him, he reaches over and lets his fingers drift past the mouth of the portal. The void is cool to the touch but not freezing the way he’d half-imagined.

He retrieves his hand. “A campus tour then?” He muses lightly, and Ichigo’s features brighten in response.

Senzou almost sighs. He thinks he might understand now. Ichigo is a little more like a Shiba after all. It’s just that he’s also a little more manipulative than one would expect of him. Senzou had all but told him not to interfere, to play hero for someone else, so Ichigo had backed off. But he’d figured out what Senzou wanted anyway, and his solution was to offer another way out instead.

Persistent, without disrespecting boundaries, and cunning enough to find another answer. In that regard, he’s nothing like his Shinigami relatives, who are always so loud about their intentions.

Charismatic, but… discreetly, almost insidiously so.

Senzou blinks. And then glances sharply at Ichigo again. His eyes look bronze in the light of the sunset, with the heat of his Hollow just beneath it. He has his head propped up against one loose fist, elbow balanced on one knee.

He smiles, almost guileless if not for the possessive resolve in the curve of that expression, and Senzou thinks, unbidden, ah. That’s how he won their devotion.

He gave his friends and family and allies everything they wanted, everything they needed, threw his heart and soul and body into every fight in their defense, shattered himself and rebuilt himself to protect the ones he’d taken under his wing, and so when the time came, how could any of them have done anything less for him?

It had probably not even been something Ichigo had done consciously from the beginning, it was just how he was built, through a quirk of the genetic fun park Urahara had ensured, or perhaps from the numerous near-death experiences life had forced him into. Ichigo probably hadn’t been aware, at first.

But he definitely is now.

Senzou thinks Ichigo is only just starting with him. Senzou’s already been claimed, because - for whatever reason - Ichigo wants him.

It probably says a lot that even this early on, even having already figured it out, Senzou… can’t say he cares enough to protest.

A Shiba in his bones, but leagues more dangerous by far.

4. The Human world is bigger than he remembers. Size-wise, it’s the same. But there’s a lot more in it than he thought, and he isn’t sure if that’s due to the passage of time or because he’d never spent more time than strictly necessary here when he took missions on the material plane back in the day.

Either way, he’s free to explore it now, even if just a small part of it for the time being. The campus of Ichigo’s school is large and sprawling, and with Urahara’s gigai and fake IDs and some Human money (he trades them for a box of seal traps even Tsukabishi Tessai wouldn’t know of because they’re Senzou’s own creation, and Urahara smiles like he understands and doesn’t object), it’s easy enough to come and go once Ichigo drops him off.

“You bought an apartment?” Senzou asks the first time Ichigo shows him the place and lets him poke around inside. It’s recognizably a living space, but it’s foreign to him all the same, with a generous open floor plan and wide windows, marble countertops in the kitchen and dark wooden cabinets and a bathroom constructed of polished chrome and gleaming tile.

“Kisuke bought me an apartment,” Ichigo corrects, flopping down on the couch where he has papers and books spread all over the coffee table and floor. His hair’s shorter today, barely past his shoulders, tipped black and hanging loose. Senzou is vaguely curious about what the boy’s classmates think of it.

“I wanted my own place,” Ichigo explains. “But Kisuke took one look at the rent I could afford and practically frog-marched me here instead. Then he had Yoruichi-san steal all my stuff and move it here, and then he said I might as well just take it because staying would be less work than moving all my stuff back.” He snorts, but it’s a fond sound. “The asshole. It’s not like I’d want to turn this place down. But it’s a bit much, so I try to help him with his research projects whenever I can in exchange.”

Senzou digests this with briefly raised eyebrows but says nothing. Urahara probably considers this another desperate form of making amends, and Ichigo probably knows it too. He probably wouldn’t have accepted otherwise.

“There’s a guest bedroom,” Ichigo calls after him as Senzou wanders down the hall to investigate exactly that. “Rukia’s stayed overnight, Renji too, and a few of my human friends have as well, but I always clean the place after they leave, so if you wanna stay tonight, feel free.”

That’s all the conversation between them for the rest of the day. Ichigo already showed him the campus the day before, and after tossing him a key to the apartment, Senzou is free to wander off and explore on his own.

Two weeks of regular visits to the Human world, and he still feels a little awkward in one of the shirts and jeans and sweater that that Quincy friend of Ichigo’s had shoved on him before whirlwinding back out again, apparently neck-deep in the middle of his own finals project.

“It’s Ishida, he makes clothes for everyone,” was Ichigo’s unhelpful clarification. “You help by walking around and looking good in them.”

So Senzou does, and part of him feels like he should stand out more, but nobody gives him more than a passing glance at most. Well, some do, but he recognizes shallow attraction well enough to ignore it.

In the end, he finds himself spending the most time in the libraries and lecture halls, slipping into the back of a classroom and listening to lessons he actually has to pay attention to to even understand some of what the professor is talking about. The science lectures mostly go over his head, and he’s never been interested in that field anyway so he doesn’t bother putting much effort into following them. It’s the literature courses he likes the most. There aren’t any at the Academy, not like this, and there are so many more books in so many more languages and genres than Senzou ever thought there existed in the world.

Soul Society suddenly seems so small in comparison.

It’s always an exercise in patience every time he has to return to Seireitei to teach now. After the first two weeks of almost daily trips to the Human world, he orders - on a whim - the students from his upper-year classes to split into groups before assigning each of them a project due at the end of the term on the theoretical creation of three new Kidou spells.

Group projects are not a thing at the Academy. Senzou wonders why.

He tells them that at least two of the research sources have to be from outside the Academy, and he smirks when he follows Fujiwara Asuka to the First Division compound to speak with her cousin, and then the Eighth to speak with her cousin’s former lieutenant, and then even braving the Fourth, straight-backed and stiff with anxiety but marching in anyway with her nervous group members in tow until she manages to wrangle fifteen minutes of time from a few of the healers willing to answer her questions about Kaidou.

Even here, Ichigo’s influence flourishes.

Outside the classroom, Senzou begins collecting copies of Human books. He half-bribes, half-blackmails the librarian into setting aside a section for him, and then he begins his own project of filling it.

“You’ve been busy,” Ichigo remarks when he staggers in from his last exam and collapses into a chair just as Senzou finishes setting the table for dinner.

Senzou arches an eyebrow, smirking when Ichigo just rolls his eyes.

“People tell me things,” Ichigo informs him, barely waiting for Senzou to sit down before falling onto the meal like he hasn’t eaten in a week.

“You would make a poor king if people didn’t,” Senzou murmurs, smiling serenely when Ichigo’s eyes flick up to meet his. It’s not as intimidating when his cheeks are bulging like a chipmunk’s.

Actually, Ichigo in the Human world just seems less… overwhelming in general. It isn’t as if he’s any less powerful. This particular gigai doesn’t restrict him in any way. But there’s a relaxed quality in him here that Senzou’s observed in the past three weeks that’s always absent when he’s the rawest form of himself up in Seireitei.

“Soul Society needs to change,” Ichigo says at last, instead of denying anything. “If that means kicking it in the ass until it stops fucking up the lives it’s supposed to be looking after, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

Yes, and Senzou has no doubt he’ll succeed. The majority of those in power have no desire to stop Ichigo. Those who do aren’t strong enough. And Ichigo wants it. He wants it with a conviction Senzou has never seen in anyone, almost obsessive in its unfaltering desire… like the abyssal hunger of a Hollow and the eternal grudge of a Quincy and the timeless pride of a Shinigami all rolled into one.

Ichigo wants it, and he’ll get what he wants.

The Soul King knows the universe owes him that much, and even if it didn’t, Senzou doubts it would make a single bit of difference to their God-Slayer.

He lifts his mug in a toast. “Then I look forward to your endeavours. You’ll need to watch out for Central 46′s spies though. I’m sure they won’t take this lying down.”

Ichigo cocks an eyebrow. “Is that an offer to keep your ear to the ground for me?”

Senzou attempts an innocent face, which works about as well as he expects when Ichigo snorts. “A mere Academy teacher like me probably can’t help much, but…” He thinks of the seals he’d planted throughout the entire Central 46 compound every time he’d had to report in, slowly but surely sneaking invisible ears into the heart of Soul Society’s government. “I might hear things now and then. I’ll pass it on if it happens to be interesting.”

Ichigo grins and tips his own mug at Senzou like they aren’t talking treason.

5. “So.”

Senzou almost rolls his eyes. The Shibas’ commitment to their theatrics clearly hasn’t changed.

“Kuukaku-chan,” He says instead as he strides into his office and smothers the urge to draw his blade on the woman sitting on his desk like she’s posing for Most Dramatic. He smiles instead, hiding the teeth of it behind his lips. “What a pleasure.”

Kuukaku grins back without any of the same courtesy. Of course. “None at all, I’m sure, so I’ll get straight to the point. What are you doing with Ichigo?”

Senzou does roll his eyes this time. “You’ll have to be more specific. As of yesterday, he’s teaching me how to drive a car.” His lip curls. “It’s a mode of transportation Humans have developed.”

“I know what a car is,” Kuukaku snaps, finally hopping down from the desk to prowl across the room. “Why is he teaching you? What do you want with him?”

Senzou pauses halfway through setting down a stack of essays to be marked. “…If I said vengeance on the Shiba Clan once I’ve convinced him to side with me, would that be about what you were expecting?”

Kuukaku glares and crosses her arms. “Ichigo would never.”

Senzou smirks. “Then you have nothing to worry about, do you? You’ve wasted a trip.”

He brushes past her to flip through the paperwork on his desk. End-of-term reports are coming up, and that’s always a waste of his time, so the sooner he gets them done the better.

“I know you resent us for what happened to Miyako,” Kuukaku says from behind him, and Senzou wonders if he can just walk out. Probably, but there’s no way this woman won’t cause a scene. “But Ichigo wasn’t part of any of that.”

Senzou heaves a sigh and turns back around. “Kuukaku-chan, I thought we just established that we both know that using Ichigo against your family won’t work.”

“No,” Kuukaku nods. “But you could hurt him to get back at us.”

They eye each other for a long moment, not quite hostile but far from amicable.

“…My vengeance for Miyako was not lifting a finger when your clan was all but massacred,” Senzou finally says, ignoring the way Kuukaku’s expression pinches. “And so long as contact with you and yours is kept at an absolute minimum in the future, I don’t care anymore. Besides, there is no point in targeting Ichigo to get to you.” He sneers. “He’s a Shiba, but it would be an insult to consider him one of you.”

Kuukaku bristles but doesn’t explode in anger the way some of her even more hot-tempered relatives would. She stares at him instead, and when she doesn’t speak right away, Senzou goes back to organizing the contents of his desk.

“Say I believe that,” Kuukaku finally says, ignoring Senzou’s scoff. “Maybe you are hanging out with Ichigo with no ulterior motives. The gods know he makes that easy. But if that’s what you’re doing, there’s no way you won’t be seeing more of the rest of us eventually. He wasn’t raised the way a Shiba should’ve been, with none of our traditions and only a fraction of the family he should’ve had. That’s on us. But he’s still family, and so long as he doesn’t say no, we’re going to be a part of his life. You’re going to have to accept that if you plan on marrying in.”

The shelf closes with a resounding thud under his hand, and judging by the give, he’s probably cracked the back of it too. He barely notices as his gaze snaps back up to stare incredulously at his uninvited visitor. “I beg your pardon?”

Kuukaku smiles thinly, and this time she looks more amused than anything else. “Something to consider. But you’re more like Miyako than most people would think.” Her arms drop to her sides as she turns abruptly towards the window. “That’s all I had to say. You’re a smart man, Senzou. I don’t need to tell you what will happen if you fuck up.”

And before Senzou can demand an explanation or - more likely - set her on fire for cracking such an abysmal joke, she’s gone, disappearing through the window in a rush of Shunpo.

Senzou stares after her, then at the books he’d carried in earlier, then at the paperwork he’s putting off for the weekend because he has dinner with Ichigo tonight… just as he does almost every night nowadays.

He runs a hand over his face.

Shibas.

6. He says nothing. He’s self-aware enough to know (now, damn Kuukaku) that there’s something there, a spark, a connection, a pull Senzou has never felt towards anyone. He isn’t going to call it love or whatever Kuukaku thinks is happening because it isn’t. He finds Ichigo fascinating and endlessly entertaining, and anyone willing to face down Central 46 is worthy of some admiration in Senzou’s opinion. That Ichigo plans on turning the whole system upside-down and actually has the power to achieve it only raises Senzou’s esteem for him.

But he says nothing because Ichigo knows all this already. The day Senzou’s first instinct, when an assassin sent by Central 46 attempts to take Ichigo’s head, is to slit the hapless woman’s throat - even though he knows full well that she wouldn’t have come anywhere near to succeeding - is the moment Ichigo gets irrefutable proof that Koyonagi Senzou is willing to kill for him.

Ichigo doesn’t gloat of course, he isn’t the type. Senzou half-expects it anyway, breath caught in his lungs for a moment with something disgracefully close to fear twisting in his gut as he turns to check Ichigo’s reaction.

But Ichigo only wrinkles his nose and toes the fresh corpse at his feet, and then he glances at the blood splatter dotting Senzou’s shirt and offers to get him a new one.

He also reaches out to touch the hilt of Senzou’s Zanpakutou before nodding once, deliberately, solemnly, the weight of it as much a thanks as it is an acknowledgement.

And that was that. Senzou relaxes, doesn’t bat an eye when shadows surge up and swallow the body whole, and goes to change into another shirt. The incident passes, and it will be longer still before Ichigo’s enemies realize they probably should’ve tried harder to get rid of Senzou years ago. They’d thought themselves safe enough though: they would never earn Senzou’s allegiance, but at the same time, nobody - including Senzou - ever thought anybody else would earn it either.

But the point is, Ichigo knows. Senzou has no need to speak of it, and both of them are content with that. If something more comes of it down the road, Senzou doesn’t think he’d fight it. He lost this battle a good while ago, and he never even cared.

In the meantime though, he spies on Central 46 and enjoys what time he can spare in the Human world and continues reconstructing Seireitei’s education system brick by stubborn brick. There’s a kingdom to conquer and a god Senzou has pledged himself to, and for now, that is enough.

#headcanon meme: answered #bleach #koyoichi #koyonagi senzou #kurosaki ichigo #kyouraku shunsui #shiba kuukaku #post canon au #headcanon #hi brain #wtaf happened

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tsarisfanfiction · 5 years ago

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Fic Rec Bingo

Okie dokie, this is the Fan Rec Bingo - idea courtesy of lightvials on twitter, but I don’t have a twitter that I ever use, so I’m filling it out here instead. Let’s see if I can fill it all out!

I did, and then some. To save poor dashboards, it’s all under the cut! If I know author tumblrs they’ve been mentioned - I know pitifully few so if anyone knows the ones I don’t, let me know so I can mention them, too!

A fic you love without knowing the source material: The Dragon-King’s Temple by Kyral (Stargate SG-1/Avatar the Last Airbender)

Through the spite of the spirits or plain rotten chance, a door that would have been better left untouched has opened. On the other hand, with Fire and Earth as one's allies, sometimes escaping is the easy part. Rated: Gen. AO3 Archive Warning for Graphic Descriptions of Violence. Characters: Zuko, Toph Beifong, Janet Fraiser, Sam Carter, Jack O’Neill, and more Words: 196311. Status: Complete

I very rarely read fics without already knowing the canon, but one that I think counts would be a Stargate/ATLA crossover, because I know nothing about Stargate and I have yet to finish ATLA! This was recommended to me due to the creativity of the author regarding a language barrier (something I always enjoy, and my friend knows that).

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A fic series with a premise that shouldn’t work but it does: Crazy=Genius by blackkat (Bleach/Harry Potter)

Minerva McGonagall isn't about to let Harry go back to the Dursleys after his first year. She finds an alternative, and along the way, Bazzard Black finds that he might have more family left than he'd ever thought. Rated: Teen. AO3 No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Bazz-B, Harry Potter, and more Words: 21682. Status: Incomplete

Okay, I cheated and picked a series. Not my fault blackkat decided to make this universe a series of oneshots rather than a single entity and you’re certainly not getting me to only pick one of the five already published ones. Bazz-B being a Black and also kinda a wizard is a brilliant concept, and having him adopting Harry is pure gold. Not sure how crazy Quincy adopting poor, neglected Boy Who Lives works, but it does!

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A fic you’ve reread several times: The Guardian (Director’s Cut) by SGTBrowncoat (Naruto)

Itachi Uchiha receives his first mission in ANBU: protecting a certain trouble making Jinchuriki. He bonds quickly with the boy, but dark forces rise to threaten Itachi, Naruto, and those they care for most. Rated: T. Canon-typical violence Characters: Uchiha Itachi, Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Shisui and more (includes Uchiha Itachi/Inuzuka Hana background pairing) Words: 35945. Status: Complete

Back to my first ever fandom, here, and a really fun non-massacre AU fic, with lots of Itachi and Shisui goodness. There are a fair few ANBU-looking-after-kid-Naruto fics but this is by far my favourite of them! There is a sequel, but unfortunately it’s not finished and hasn’t been updated in a long time (I live in hope!)

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A fic you still remember many years later: While The Ring Went South by Thundera Tiger (Lord of the Rings)

What happened after the Fellowship left Rivendell but before they came down off Caradhras? Behold the missing scenes. Rated: K+. Canon-typical violence Characters: Legolas, Gimli, Aragon, Gandalf, the whole Fellowship Words: 149624. Status: Complete

I refound this fic completely by accident the other week, after first reading it (according to when I favourited it on FFN) in 2011! It was just as amazing as I remembered, and is really the standard I hold all other LotR fics to, especially ones that involve the entire, pre-Moria, Fellowship. It has a sequel but sadly that’s not been updated in some time (but again, I live in hope!)

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A comfort fic: There May Be Some Collateral Damage by metisket (Bleach/Harry Potter)

Ichigo’s been ordered to go undercover at a magic school to bodyguard a kid named Harry Potter, and this would be fine, except that he’s about as good at bodyguarding as he is at magic. And he considers it a good day, magic-wise, if he hasn’t set anything on fire. Rated: Gen. AO3 No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Kurosaki Ichigo, Harry Potter, Weasley Twins, and more. Words: 61209. Status: Complete

I have no idea what this means by ‘Comfort Fic’ but if I want a laugh and Umbridge getting a pile of comeuppance, this is definitely the fic I’ll turn to. As the A/N says: ‘sending Ichigo to Hogwarts is basically the same as swinging a wrecking ball directly into the side of the castle’. Beautiful chaos is what we get. Beautiful, beautiful chaos.

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A cathartic fic: See You Again by cookietosser (One Piece)

Rocinante has been through a lot in his life. Adding uncontrollable time travel into the mix? That's just the icing on the cake. Rated: Teen. AO3 Violence and (canon) Character Death Warnings Characters: Donquioxte Rocinante|Cora-san, Trafalgar Law, Heart Pirates Words: 15755. Status: Complete

You want to rip my heart out and trample it into lots of little pieces while still making it all better because Law and Rocinante? Well, this little time-traveller’s wife AU fic is just the one for all that. Sad moments, frustrating moments, happy moments, all wrapped up in this oneshot!

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A fic you’d print and put on your bookshelf: Thrower of the Dart by Vathara (Artemis Fowl/The Avengers)

What might have happened instead of Artemis Fowl book 6, if it'd happened in the Marvel Universe. Megalomaniacs ahoy! Rated: Teen. AO3 No Archive Warnings Characters: Artemis Fowl II, Tony Stark, and more Words: 101272. Status: Complete

It’s long, it’s epic, and it would nestle in perfectly at home alongside my Artemis Fowl books on the bookshelf! It’s not so much a rewrite of book 6 as a complete replacement of it, with a new plot and an all too familiar villain!

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A fic you associate with a song: Goodbye, Brother by Serena Estelle (Bleach)

Ilforte's final moments as I like to picture them-with his brother. Rated: T. Canonical character death Characters: Szayelaporro Granz, Yylfordt Granz Words: 3073. Status: Complete

Might be cheating, because the author actually names a song in their starting A/N, but this definitely brings to mind Exile Vilify by The National, and I fully recommend listening to that (on loop - there is a 10-hour loop version on youtube) as you watch this for maximum tear-jerking effect.

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A fic that inspires you: Magic of the Rose Cross by Awensweth (Harry Potter/D.Gray-Man)

In Harry's 4th year the Triwizard Tournament is brought back to live, but the appearance of a fourth mysterious school about which only Dumbledore seems to know brings new secrets with it for everyone. Who are the students of Rose Cross? Rated: Mature. AO3 Chose Not To Use Warnings Characters: Harry Potter, Allen Walker, and more Words: 66632. Status: Incomplete

I have been inspired by many, many fics, but I chose this one in particular because it was the main one that inspired me to join the HP/DGM Triwizard Tournament wave of the early 2010s - indeed, The Combat School is one of my most popular fics, but without this and other fics of the trope, I probably would never have written it! That’s not to say I’ve copied this fic - aside from the base trope I tried my best to make my own work unique against the others, and hope that I succeeded! Sadly, this fic is incomplete and hasn’t been updated for some time, but it’s still worth a read.

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A fic that brought you on board a new ship: Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell by MsChunks (Boku no Hero Academia)

Uraraka and Bakugo have a secret. It’s not what their classmates think it is. Rated: Teen. AO3 Chose Not To Use Warnings Characters: Bakugo Katsuki, Uraraka Ochako Words: 182478. Status: Complete

Putting Bakugo and Uraraka together was something I’d never considered, and I started this fic with some trepidation after a friend recommended it to me, but said friend has never steered me wrong with fics and didn’t start now! Fake dating, Uraraka actually being badass, the most terrifying couple in class 1-A? That’s this fic.

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A fic you wish could be a movie: Mission Impossible by Loopstagirl (Thunderbirds)

Being selected for his first solo mission should have been exciting for Captain Scott Tracy of the Air Force. But there was something else at play. Something dangerous and deadly. Something that could cost him more than his life. Rating: T. Warnings: Violence Characters: Scott Tracy, Gordon Tracy Words: 55048. Status: Complete

Air Force!Scott? W.A.S.P.!Gordon? On a joint mission together? Yes, gimme, gimme, gimme. Gimme Scott’s awkwardness alone on a boat of WASP personnel, gimme Gordon’s horror when he realises the suicide mission pilot is his older brother, and now give that all to me on screen! And we can’t forget the Hood, of course! Might be a bit higher rating than the current Thunderbirds stuff, but hey, I’m old enough. Gimme.

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A fic that led to you becoming friends with the author: The Gabriel Project by Aceidia (Bleach) - @thetwelvecaesars

When Szayelaporro knew Aizen's reign in Heuco Mundo was coming to a close, he took matters into his own brilliant hands. He reincarnates himself and the other nine Espadas into a new life full of surprising turns and irony. Yet, the harmony and ignorance is not forever as they begin to remember. Rating: M (violence) Characters: Szayelaporro Granz, the Espada Words: 116030. Status: Complete

Well, this fic sparked off a friendship that’s still very much there, even if neither of us write much for Bleach any more! What started off as a challenge to identify who the Espada were turned into essay-length PMs about anything and everything, and then RP groups and now random emails about whatever at random times of the day (different timezones don’t help)!

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A fic you’ve gushed about irl: Living Like Kings by CLynnB (Thunderbirds)

The world wants to know more about the Tracy brothers. So Lady Penelope takes it upon herself to show the world just who they are. Through YouTube. Rating: Gen. AO3 Author Chose Not To Use Warnings Characters: Lady Penelope-Creighton-Ward, Tracy Family (background Pen/Ink, Scayo, Virg/Brains) Words: 35348. Status: Complete

I love social media fics like this one, and my poor boyfriend got the brunt of it while we were on holiday... he knows basically nothing about Thunderbirds except for what he’s heard from me (which is a lot because he’s amazing and lets me gush). I mean, Tracy boys playing “The Floor Is Lava?” and tackling each other to the ground? Gimme.

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A fic you associate with a place: Thunderbirds Meet Thunderbirds - Alan trip in to the movie verse by ak47stylegirl (Thunderbirds) @ak47stylegirl

Crazy stuff always happens to Tracys, don't they? Add felling into a different world to the list. Rating: Gen. AO3 No Archive Warnings Characters: Alan Tracy, Tracy Family times two Words: 25599. Status: Incomplete

This might be a little random, but this fic was one that I found while I was ill on holiday to the Lake District last autumn. Sadly, it’s the only trip there I’ve ever done where I couldn’t climb a single fell (and my car’s clutch burnt out after having to reverse up a pass... thanks bus coming the other way), and this fic’s updates while I was there kept me sane! This has actually very loosely inspired a fic of my own which is in the making - which might get posted in the next year if I’m lucky... Still waiting eagerly for this fic’s next update :D

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A fic that made you gasp out loud: The Colours Of The World by MaiKusakabe (Fullmetal Alchemist/Harry Potter)

When Roy Mustang went to retrieve his eyesight from Truth, he wasn’t expecting to end up doing a job in exchange. It couldn’t even be an easy job, of course, because Edward’s assessment of Truth was a pretty accurate one. Rating: Mature. AO3 No Archive Warnings (but watch for canon-typical violence) Characters: Roy Mustang, Albus Dumbledore, Sirius Black, and more Words: 120578. Status: Incomplete

Badass Roy yesss. Twists and turns and Truth is a pretentious you-know-what but Voldemort’s even worse so where does that leave poor Roy except caught in the middle and very much a war veteran at this point... much to the horror of a few wizards!

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A fic you found at the right time: Seafaring Heartless: Exit North Blue by Avian Swallow (One Piece)

Pirates may be considered evil by the majority, but Law had met quite a few of the world's navy who were corrupt to the core and putting up a very thick facade. He reasoned that if he was going to manipulate and scheme his way into that goal, at least he was going to be honest enough to admit it. Rating: T. Canon-typical situations Characters: Trafalgar Law, Bepo, Penguin, Shachi, Heart Pirate OCs Words: 159644. Status: Complete

Is there ever a ‘wrong time’ to find a fic? (a 100k+ at 4am debatable, but shh). When I craved Heart Pirate content, this fic (and its sequel, still in progress but updating) appeared! Only loosely clings to canon at the moment, thanks to some SBS revelations, but with well developed OCs to fill the faces we have no names or personalities for at the moment!

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A fic that you would read fic of: Only a Boy by Riddle Lee (Harry Potter/Merlin)

Merlin has changed Camelot forever but while that part of his life is complete, destiny has a new task for him. Now he has to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, hide the fact that he's the Merlin, and defeat a Dark Lord that's messing with magic he knows nothing about. Rating: T. Canon-typical situations Characters: Merlin, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, and more Words: 340998. Status: Incomplete

An amazing universe with Slytherin!Merlin, no Harry Potter/Boy Who Lived, and the good old ‘hiding real identity’ trope to underpin the whole series. Currently just into the start of Merlin’s third year at Hogwarts, aka “The Prisoner of Azkaban”. This universe has so much to give, although Riddle Lee is doing a fantastic job at it. It’s incomplete and slow to update but does update!

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A fic that made you laugh out loud: HOW’S THE COMA GOING by ossicle (One Piece)

Kidd and Penguin keep trying to murder each other and Law is done with their shit. He assigns them to take care of each other’s injuries so they’ll learn to get along. It doesn’t work. Rating: Teen. AO3 No Archive Warnings Characters: Eustass Kid, Penguin, Trafalgar Law (background KidLaw) Words: 2062. Status: Complete

Oh this one had me in stitches basically the whole time. Kid’s bedside manner should not be mimicked in the slightest, but a beautiful bonding fic in typical pirate fashion - beat ‘em up ‘til they have your approval. Poor, poor, Law.

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A fic with a line (or two) that you’ve memorised by heart: On Their Side by Gumnut (Thunderbirds) - @gumnut-logic

She trusted these boys with a great deal. Rating: Teen. AO3 No Warnings Apply Characters: Colonel Casey, Virgil Tracy, Gordon Tracy Words: 1116. Status: Complete

I think I have basically the entire thing memorised. This one also falls into several other categories, most notably ones that made me laugh and ones that I’ve reread several times, but it really belongs here on this list.

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A fic that gave you butterflies: it’s a long way forward so trust in me by aloneintherain (Miraculous Ladybug)

Six times Marinette carried Adrien (plus one time he carried her). Rating: Teen. AO3 No Archive Warnings Characters: Adrien Agreste|Chat Noir, Marinette Dupain-Cheng|Ladybug (all sides of the love square) Words: 5611. Status: Complete

Aaah I have a weak spot for strong!Marinette and this fic ticks that box time and time again, with a side of blushing!Adrien and general love-struck Adrien/Chat. I mean, what more could a girl need?

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A fic that embodies something you value in life: Team Itachi by Killer of thy Cookies (Naruto)

What if the Third Hokage stopped the council before they could order Itachi to commit the Uchiha Clan Massacre? Itachi is one of the village's strongest ninja, and has now been given the task of being a Jonin sensei, assigned to Team 7 with his little brother Sasuke, the 'dead last' Naruto Uzumaki, and fangirl Sakura Haruno. This is Team Itachi. Rating: T. Canon-typical situations Characters: Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura, and more Words: 155092. Status: Complete

(Yup, another non-massacre AU.) Loyalty. Honestly, there are so many fics that have loyalty in them, especially in fandoms like Naruto, where loyalty is a pretty big thing anyway (alongside friendship, of course), but this one is Itachi staying openly loyal to the village because Sarutobi actually saved the clan, and of course lovely bonds between the team!

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A favourite AU: A Son By Any Other Name by carryonstarkid (Thunderbirds)

Cursed as a child, Scott Tracy lives a life in which everyone he encounters must follow all of his given commands. Rating: Teen. AO3 Chose Not To Use Warnings Characters: Scott Tracy, Tracy Brothers, Kayo Kyrano, and more Words: 83429. Status: Complete

I rarely read AU fics - my preferred sandbox is the canon one, or a nice slice of canon diversion, rather than completely taking characters out of their home and dumping them somewhere entirely new. This fairytale AU, however - reminding me very much of Sleeping Beauty except instead of sleeping it’s, well, what the summary says - is fantastically well done and addresses the strain such a thing would put on even the closest of family relationships.

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A fic you stayed up too late to finish reading: As N Approaches Infinity by Corisanna (Bleach/Puella Magi Madoka Magica)

Despairing as yet another timeline goes horribly wrong, Homura wanders into Karakura. There she discovers that while the spiritually-aware people of Karakura were distracted by Ichigo Kurosaki and Xcution, Kyubey had managed to contract the Kurosaki sisters as magical girls. Drawing the attention of the shinigami could be just the advantage Homura needs. Rating: Teen. AO3 No Archive Warnings but watch out for canon-typical situations for both fandoms (especially Madoka) Characters: Akemi Homura, Kurosaki Karin, Kurosaki Yuzu, Urahara Kisuke, and many more Words: 465297. Status: Incomplete

There are many fanfictions that have kept me up til dawn. Many. This one, however, has literally robbed me of all my sleep and I’ve still been unable to finish it in one sitting. It’s good, the pacing is fantastic, and with Homura as our leading lady, that means those time resets really hit hard when they happen (and they happen. They really, really, happen). Might be incomplete, but is still updating - and there’s plenty to keep you occupied in the meantime!

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A fic that made you feel seen: A Seed Once Grown by Darkestwolfx (Thunderbirds) - @darkestwolfx

Believe it or not, they did have a garden on Tracy Island. It looked a little like a… tip. And that was being kind. Rating: Teen. AO3 No Archive Warnings Characters: Ned Tedford, Tracy Family Words: 4785. Status: Complete

Okay, so I’m taking this literally because I spend a lot of time feeling invisible on the internet so having a fic written for me from someone I’d barely spoken to before was a whole pile of screaming. Not that it’s the first time someone’s written a fic for me, but the other ones have been done by friends I’d already known for some time, and not someone in a fandom I’m just starting to find my feet in.

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Free space: whoo boy, fun time! There are a few fics on the top of my head that didn’t fill any of the above prompts (or got beaten to the punch by another), so my wildcard space is going to be a few fic links without the extra detail because I’ve already spent about 12 hours on this to get to this point (did I get sidetracked and re-read a bunch? You bet) and I’d quite like to also get some fic written today, too!

Eight-Day Week (JoJo Spotting) by TrufflestheMushroom (JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure)

The Trouble With Eastern by teaandtumblr (One Piece)

Remembrance by ClioSelene (One Piece)

Legacy by MaiKusakabe (One Piece)

A Fleeting Smile by AnonymousTwit (Boku no Hero Academia)

Too Loud For Comfort by vaporeon_ninja (Boku no Hero Academia)

A Dragon’s Hoard by Chezka (Boku no Hero Academia)

Nine Lives by P_Artsypants (Miraculous Ladybug)

Chat’s Eye View (Love Letters To Paris) by Icka M Chif (Miraculous Ladybug)

Gabriel’s Lament by Chaotic Neutral (Miraculous Ladybug)

What The Cat Dragged In by Kyral (Avengers/Miraculous Ladybug)

Weekend Warrior by BlackDog_66 (Avengers)

Fitting In (Tiny Spaces) by aloneintherain (Avengers)

Autonomy by beetlebee (Naruto)

Great Minds by ScreamingViking (Final Fantasy VII)

Dear Kunsel by Sinnatious (Final Fantasy VII)

Cracks in the knight by authorettejasmin (Magic Kaito)

To Wrap An Elvish Princeling by Jael (Lord of the Rings)

There are more, many more, and I’ll probably post a few more recs around - you can also find some on my blog and I’ll try and get that updated with a few more at some point because there are many more than that!

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feelingfredly · 5 years ago

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Home Is Where You Hang Your Heart

Fluffy/Angsty Goodness for GinIchi WinterFest 2020

Ichigo pulled another handkerchief from his pocket and pushed it across the table. He’d learned to come prepared to these meetings. “He’s doing fine, Ran. I swear. Please don’t cry.”

The redhead thanked him and swiped once at her eyes before the cloth disappeared into a shaky fist. “I know, I know,” she sighed and straightened her shoulders, “I just…” her voice faded away and her gaze clouded. “I just worry, you know?”

Ichigo knew.

Rangiku was a fierce fighter, a bottomless pit when it came to alcohol, and a shameless flirt. She was also a mother hen, a victim of spiritual abuse, and someone still desperately trying to come to grips with the truth about a relationship that had turned out to be nothing like she’d always believed. It was no wonder she was torn up.

“I don’t want him to think..” She couldn’t even begin to put all the things she didn’t want Gin to think into words.

“What?” Ichigo snorted. “You don’t want him to think that you don’t care? That you wouldn’t take on the whole of Seireitei if it would make a difference?” He rolled his eyes and Ran gave him a watery smile. Just like Yuzu and Karin, he thought, she just needs someone to tell her it’s okay. That she’s done enough. “Trust me. He knows. He also knows that it wouldn’t make any difference.” Ran’s face puckered up a little and he raised a hand to stop her before the tears could start again. “Yet. It wouldn’t make any difference yet. It’s going to take a long time for people to stop believing the worst of him.”

She nodded and then looked at him, weighing her words. “You don’t believe the worst of him.”

Ichigo settled back in his chair and shrugged. “I’m also the guy with a hollow living in the back of his head who spends all his time with a Visored who turns the world upside down and a banished Captain of the Gotei 13 who I’m pretty sure sells sex dolls out of the back of his candy store. Some of those housewives that come by regularly are pretty scary.” He shook his head. “Understanding Gin is a walk in the park after that. But don’t tell him I said that. It might make him feel like he has to prove something.”

Ran laughed, her first real laugh since they’d sat down together. “Oh no, you wouldn’t want that. The human world might not survive.”

Ichigo thought about Gin laser-focused on teaching him a lesson and struggled to fight back a flush before it gave the woman across the table something else to think about. The last thing he needed—even less than another occasionally sadistic ex-Captain—was a matchmaking Rangiku.

He lifted his drink in a silent toast, hiding his red cheeks behind the rim of his cup. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

***

“Here. I brought some hot chocolate.” Gin handed a wide ceramic cup across to the little girl sitting on the tatami. She was posed beside a window made of balsa wood and rice paper, a small lamp on the other side giving the impression of winter sunlight streaming in on the puddle of brightly colored silk that wrapped her tiny frame. “If you like it, I have a tin for you t’ take home. You’ve been so patient.”

A blush of happiness pinked her cheeks. Never too young to appreciate being appreciated, he thought, taking a moment to readjust his camera, or to be susceptible to bribery.

“Is it good, Suzu-chan?” He cocked his head to one side as he asked and the little girl nodded, her face buried in the steamy cup, eyes big as they stared at him over the rim. Perfect. He snapped another photo.

He kneeled up and moved across to the other side of the mat, moving slowly so as not to startle the child. She’d clung to her mother when they arrived, tears threatening during the long process of putting the layers of the kimono on her, but she’d relaxed after a few gentle compliments and a few sweets.

“Ah, your hair’s so pretty today. Did your mother fix it for you?”

The big eyes narrowed a fraction as she nodded. So… not totally susceptible to flattery. That’s a good girl. Stay smart like that. He looked down at his camera, watching the suspicious look fade from the girl’s face through the preview screen and when she raised the cup again, he snapped another picture.

Gin paused, checking the light and the little girl’s positioning for the umpteenth time. Suzu-chan’s mother was waiting patiently in the alcove off the set watching and he motioned for her to come over.

“I’m almost finished, but I would like to try to get at least one standing photo now that she’s calmed down. Could you help her up, please? She was afraid she was going t’ trip in the hikizuri earlier, and I don’t want her to panic again.”

The woman bowed to him and smiled, creeping over to the little girl and holding her hand out for the cup with a sing-songy, “Kashite, Su-chan?” The child handed the cocoa to her easily and smiled as her mother helped her to her feet, getting her balance on the tiny okobo before sending a shy smile to Gin, proud of her accomplishment.

“Jus’ perfect, Suzu-chan,” he said, moving so her mother could step away. He ducked in and straightened the hem of the kimono with a practiced twitch. “Stand right there for me.” He focused the camera in his hands and palmed a remote for a second camera on a tripod on the other side of the tatami. A single press of the button and the camera started taking automated photos on a timer, a hidden eye on the tiny subject in front of him. “Now,” he said, making a production of raising the camera in his hand, “can you bow for me? Jus’ once, please?”

The little girl looked at him, a fierce look of concentration on her face, and she dipped into a bow so lovely that it would have made a maiko rage with jealousy. The grace of innocence, he thought, taking a final picture of the girl, half-turned away, miniature rice-paper kanzashi swinging beside her cheek.

And then they were done. It took almost as long to remove the hikizuri as it did to put it on, but at least by the end of it the child wasn’t crying. He bowed deeply to the pair of them and made arrangements with the mother for the finished photo package to be sent for approval before turning to his model and bowing again. “Thank you so much, Suzu-chan. You made my job so easy, and now you’re all finished.”

A big grin spread across the little face. “Thank you, shashin-ka-san!” She gave him a bow in return. “Do I still get to have the hot chocolate?”

Gin smiled. That’s right, little one, never lose track of what’s important. “Of course.” He nodded seriously. “You’ve earned it.” He handed her the tin and she hugged it to her chest with another bow of thanks before leading her mother back out into the festival in a whirlwind of excitement.

“Another happy customer,” a voice murmured behind him.

Gin didn’t jump but it was close. The gigai from Urahara was many things, but good at reiatsu sensing wasn’t one of them. Yet another thing to get accustomed to. “All my customers are happy, Kurosaki-kun. I take pride in my ability,” he tilts his head a fraction and looked at the redhead over his shoulder, “to satisfy.”

He was fairly certain that the color on Ichigo’s cheeks wasn’t from the winter wind. At least he didn’t need to relearn that.

“Clearly,” the younger man said, aiming for cool. “That’s why you’re booked solid for the whole festival.”

Gin walked over to the corner where his computer was set up temporarily, plugging the camera in to download the pictures he’d taken. “You sound surprised, Kurosaki-kun.”

Ichigo shrugged. “I’ll admit that the whole ‘authentic Meiji era costume photography’ thing wasn’t something I saw coming, and the fact that you’re a freaking child whisperer is oddly unnerving, but your success? No surprise there. I’m pretty sure you could sell freezers in the Artic if you set your mind to it.”

A bitter retort hovered on the tip of his tongue-- Even without Aizen hypnotizing people for me, Kurosaki-kun?—but he forced it back. Ichigo didn’t deserve it. He was one of the most straightforward people Gin had ever dealt with. It wasn’t his fault that no one else said what they meant.

“I jus’ know what people want, Kurosaki-kun.” He tipped his head to one side. “Like you. I know what you want, too.”

Ichigo froze like a red deer suddenly faced with a wolf. It was adorable.

“A-and what do I want, if you’re so smart?” His voice was a little too shaky and Gin could tell he was on the verge of retreating into denial and bluster. He really shouldn’t push so hard. It was just too much fun sometimes.

Gin took a moment to unplug things and slide the laptop into its bag. He’d work on today’s photos back at the apartment.

“Why the same thing I want, of course,” he said, smiling a little as he caught the bob of Adam’s apple out of the corner of his eye. “Dinner. It’s been a long day. You want t’ get takoyaki from the vendor next door, or d’ you have something else in mind?”

Ichigo paused and shook his head like he was trying to clear out cobwebs.

“Takoyaki.” He picked up the now packed computer bag and slung it over his shoulder leaving Gin to lock the little studio up for the night. “I’m starving.”

***

Ichigo bulled his way through the crowd trusting Gin to stick close behind him. He didn’t look around. He was sure his face was still red, and he didn’t trust himself to keep his mouth shut if Gin decided to tease him more.

I know what you want, too.

The words echoed in his head, and he wished he could have the moment back, just once, to do something differently, to be brave and face this thing that hung between them. To admit that yes there was something he wanted, something he wanted badly, and it sure as hell wasn’t takoyaki.

The crowd parted in front of him, his scowl was good for that, and almost before he realized it, they’d made it to the food stand.

Ichigo had never liked takoyaki growing up, but the first day of the festival Gin had pointed out the stand, excited over something in a way that Ichigo’d rarely seen, and he happily let the older man drag him there for dinner after they’d worked up an appetite setting up the studio. Gin didn’t remember his human life any more than most occupants of Seireitei, but it was clear he’d lived in the Kansai district from his accent, so it made sense that he’d love a food that Osaka was famous for. What Ichigo hadn’t been prepared for was the sheer pleasure on Gin’s face as he ate the little fried bites like he hadn’t eaten in forever.

Just what he needed on top of Gin’s teasing.

The vendor greeted them with a smile and started shoveling the steaming balls into paper boats. “I have something for you Ichimaru-san,” he says, handing over a little dark pot along with the takoyaki. It smells sweet and sour and like citrus and vinegar.

“Ponzu!” Gin looked like one of the kids he took pictures of, all pleased smiles and gracious head tilts. “Thank you, Sato-san!” He drizzled it generously over his boat and breathed in deeply, his enjoyment clear on his face. “This smells amazing!”

Sato-san nodded with satisfaction. “My wife made it and when I told her you’d mentioned missing it, she wanted me to bring you some. It isn’t for the menu, but for a good customer like you?” He bowed deeply and chuckled. “I am happy to be able to do this.”

Gin looked almost startled by the kindness and bowed deeply. “Please let your wife know that her generosity was most appreciated. If there is anything I can do for you—I’d be happy to do a portrait for her if she’d like. I have a new kimono that needs a model.”

The vendor laughed. “My Himari would be too embarrassed for something so grand. Your happiness is all she wanted, Ichimaru-san. I will pass along your compliments, though. A little flattery goes a long way, you know.”

Ichigo watched as a shutter closed across Gin’s face, the pleasure banking into something more polite and less real.

“Absolutely, Sato-san. It is even better if it is true, though, and it is. Thank you again! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He handed Ichigo his boat and bowed again before leading them to one of the few high-topped tables separating the counter from the crowd.

They stood there enjoying their food, Gin’s quiet mood so different from what Ichigo had been expecting, before he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“He didn’t mean anything by it, you know.” Ichigo waved a chopstick for emphasis. “He was just trying to be friendly.”

Gin paused for a moment and then nodded. “I know. It’s just hard sometimes t’ separate the real from the phony.” He took a bite and chewed silently, staring off into the crowd. “I’m tired of the lies and the manipulation. I just want people to know that I mean what I say. I want it to be real.”

Ichigo nudged him under the table with his knee. “It is real, and they know you mean what you say. A little bit of flattery isn’t the same as lying, it’s just… social lubricant.”

Gin made a noise in his throat and Ichigo could feel the heat returning to his cheeks. “I see. And lubricant is something you’re familiar with Kurosaki-kun?”

“Bastard. You know what I meant.” His flush got worse and Ichigo couldn’t help but be thankful for the cold breeze blowing. He could pretend his face was just… wind-chapped. Right. “I guess what I was trying to say is that I know what it’s like when someone doesn’t do it, like Isshin. Or can’t do it, like me. Do you have any idea how many fights I could have avoided if I’d just learned how to say things differently? How many feelings I wouldn’t have hurt? How many times Karin wouldn’t have stomped on my foot because I said something completely honest and still managed to completely miss the point of what I was trying to say?” He snorted and picked up another takoyaki.

“You missing the point, Kurosaki-kun? Surely not.” Gin teased, and Ichigo felt the tightness around his chest loosen a little. It was working.

“You have no idea.” He shook his head ruefully, perfectly willing to humiliate himself if it made Gin feel better. “One time I told her homeroom teacher that Isshin couldn’t make it to the parent/teacher conference because the yakuza thug with the stab wound was more important than she was. Completely true? Yes. Totally honest? Absolutely. Utterly the wrong thing to say? Hell yes. We had three social services visits that month because I was too stupid to realize what that would sound like to someone that didn’t live my life. Being able to spin things a little would have been a godsend.”

Gin sighed and pushed his empty takoyaki boat away from him. “After everything I did people don’t see it that way. As harmless spin, I mean. I lived a lie for more than a hundred years. My best friends… the people I loved... None of them could tell the difference, and now that they know that the person they thought I was never existed, they doubt everything I say. Honestly, I don’ blame them.”

The tightness squeezed Ichigo’s heart again, and he made an aborted reach across the table to touch Gin’s hand. “I get it. I really do. You’re better at double-talk than most, and you haven’t always been the most honest guy in the world, but now you’re using your skills for good instead of evil, so it’s different. You don’t have to be so afraid of just being yourself, you know. Especially not with me. And if they can’t tell the difference? Fuck ‘em. Just be you. The people that care will figure it out.”

Ichigo popped the last fried dough ball in his mouth deliberately. He had learned a little bit about shutting up over the years, even if he wasn’t good at the whole moderated-honesty thing, so he chewed and waited.

Gin didn’t say anything for a few minutes and Ichigo was afraid that once again he’d managed to make things worse rather than better.

“You make it sound so easy, Kurosaki-kun.” His voice was almost wistful under its normal layer of snark.

Ichigo shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be hard. Just, I don’t know… treat people the way your treat the kids you take pictures of. Tell them what you want. Say thank you when you get it. Be firm but fair. Oh, and don’t let Hirako talk you into going to jazz bars, and never drink anything Urahara hands you. Simple.”

Pale blue eyes peered at him through dark blond lashes. “Only you, Kurosaki-kun.”

Ichigo frowned. “Only I would what?”

Gin shook his head and gave one of his closed-mouth smiles, clearly pleased but also clearly unwilling to explain.

Well, at least he was smiling.

***

Ichigo puttered around in their little kitchen and Gin could hear the sound of the tea tin and the kettle. It was amazing how comfortable he’d become sharing his space. He hadn’t felt this way since he and Ran shared the back room of a little inn in the Rukongai where the innkeeper was kind enough to let them do errands for a space of their own, however small.

“I told Yuzu that we’d come for dinner Sunday evening. She found a recipe for dojima roll that she wants your opinion of.”

Ichigo had stopped asking if Gin wanted to do things once he realized that the answer was always going to be some form of no. He insisted that interaction was necessary if Gin was going to survive staying in the human world and that his family and friends were the least likely to cause problems if he slipped up and spoke of things that humans wouldn’t—or shouldn’t—understand. It didn’t seem to occur to him that their familiarity with Seireitei and the problems with Aizen meant that his family and friends were also the ones most likely to have a problem with him in the first place, or that it might be hard for Gin to sit across the table from Isshin, Ran’s old Captain, and pretend that nothing was wrong, pretend that he didn’t know that the man would prefer anyone else for his eldest child.

“You know I appreciate the offer, but I can’t. Please apologize to Yuzu for me.” Gin kept his voice even. “It’s the last weekend of the Winter Fest and I have a full day of sittings scheduled…”

His voice trailed off as Ichigo wandered out of the bathroom. He had a towel draped over his shoulders, his hair still wet from the shower, and Gin didn’t think he’d ever seen him so at ease. The water darkened the spiky locks turning the natural orange into something softer, and his eyes glowed amber against his tan. It took his breath away.

Luckily, Ichigo had no clue about the effect he had.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I checked the schedule and you have the second set of Shima portraits to do in the afternoon—the youngest boy I think. You had him down for the hitatare, although why anyone wants to put a three year old in a samurai outfit is still a mystery to me—but you should be done with him by four and then it’s just back here to drop off the equipment, and then I can open a garganta from anywhere so we won’t have to worry about travel time, and…”

Gin held up a hand and Ichigo ground to a halt. “Kurosaki-kun, please.”

Something in his voice made the redhead frown. “What?”

He stilled himself, the shallow smile he’d worn for years hovering, but he forced himself not to give into the lie. He could do this. “I just… don’t think I should go. I appreciate the invitation but, no. Not this time. Thank you.”

A light dimmed in Ichigo’s eyes and Gin wished he could take his words back, but this was for the best.

“Oh,” the spiky head nodded, and he could see the shudder of a breath drawn too deeply too fast. “Okay. I get it. Simple, right?” There was nothing simple in Ichigo’s response.

“What do you mean, Kurosaki-kun?” Gin tilted his head a little, a tiny whisper of dread shot through his curiosity about what would happen next.

He should have known nothing about Ichigo would play out the way he expected. Slowly the younger man fisted his hands in the ends of the towel, pulling it tightly over his chest, and he shrugged, too casually, before answering.

“It’s like I said. You’re telling me what you want—firm and fair—and saying thank you. Couldn’t be much clearer. Sorry if I was making you uncomfortable, I just…” he looked away, his composure slipping into something soft and hurt.

Gin wanted to tell him, wanted to explain that he hadn’t made him uncomfortable, that Gin was being a coward, that he wanted to keep Ichigo to himself, that he dreamed of them hiding away here in Osaka not just for the festival season but always. He couldn’t, though. He’d driven enough distance between people that he cared about. He wasn’t going to be the cause of a rift between Ichigo and his family and friends.

“It isn’t like that.” The explanation sounded weak even to him.

“Then what is it like?” The words burst from the younger man. “I don’t understand. I thought you liked spending time with…”

Me, Gin could almost hear him say, and wouldn’t that open Pandora’s Box?

“I do.” The conversation was quickly becoming something Gin wasn’t prepared to deal with. “It’s just that I’ve been worried. Your father has been very generous to allow me into his home, but I know it must…”

A twisted bark of laughter split the space between them “You’re kidding. You’re worried about Isshin?”

When he put it that way it sounded a little strange, but Gin remembered the way the Taichō had watched him when he’d pushed Rangiku away. Remembered the judgment in his eyes. That kind of feeling didn’t just vanish into thin air.

“He was Rangiku’s captain. He didn’t approve of the way I treated her back then, and I’ve seen the way he looks at me now. I don’t want to cause any more trouble, Kurosaki-kun, and I certainly don’t want to force you to choose between me and your family.”

Ichigo looked at him like he was insane, and maybe he was. After everything that had happened, it was probably a foregone conclusion.

“First off, Isshin can take care of himself. He isn’t as much of an ass as he seems, but if he has a problem with you, he’ll deal with it his own way in his own time. Trust me. He learned to deal with the Visoreds, and with Yoruichi, and Urahara, and he’ll either learn to accept you or I’ll punch him in the head until he shuts up, but either way that isn’t something to worry about.”

Gin’s heart stuttered a little in his chest. No one but Ran had ever been willing to fight for him before.

He forced his mouth to form words. “You can’t just punch anyone that doesn’t want me around in the head until they give in, Kurosaki-kun.”

Ichigo stuck his chin out a fraction and met his eyes fiercely. “Try me.”

And, oh Soul King help him if he didn’t want to.

***

He was a grown man. He would be 200 next year. He could do this. It was only dinner.

“So, Ichimaru-san,” the bland voice could have hidden a dagger in it, or it could have just been Isshin being polite. “How’s the photography business going?”

Ichigo shifted minutely beside him and Karin shot an under-lashes look at him and he marveled for a moment when he realized that they were both preparing to jump in and defend him. From a question about his business. That he was proud of.

Kurosakis. They were insane. The whole lot of them.

“I won’t pretend there wasn’t a steep learning curve, but I’m pleased with it.” Gin sipped his miso and smiled appreciatively at Yuzu who was watching every bite he took. The girl had pulled out all the stops with dinner, making a whole bevy of Osakan favorites in his honor. “There is something magical about being able to capture a moment forever.”

Yuzu nodded when she was satisfied that he like the food well enough. “I love the kimono you designed for Inoue’s engagement portrait. I thought Ishida-san was going to have a stroke when she declared that she wanted you to handle the wedding, but even he was pleased with how the pictures turned out, and you know how fussy he is about everything.”

Gin had been surprised as well, but the Quincy was besotted and whatever his Princess wanted she got, even if it happened to be a disgraced Shinigami as his wedding photographer. Although, honestly, the fact that he’d killed a number of traitorous Shinigami was probably a point in his favor as far as Ishida was concerned.

“Matsumoto told me you’d been sponsored by the Sōtaichō himself.” Isshin raised an eyebrow. “Must have made things a lot easier having that kind of backing.”

It was true. Money made money and Gin wouldn’t have been able to do nearly as much as quickly if he’d been working from zero. It was a situation that benefitted Kyōraku—human world money wasn’t an issue for the Shinigami, and he’d have one fewer reminder of Aizen and the destruction around him if Gin wasn’t in Seireitei every day—but he was fairly certain that it had been Ichigo who convinced him.

“Indeed,” he nodded and smiled a careful smile, “he wanted me out from underfoot, and the seed money for my business was less than he’s funneled into Urahara-san’s shōten or what he provides for Hirako-san and the other Visored.”

Karin snorted. “I bet. Having you out of sight meant he didn’t to have to explain to everyone that you were smarter than everyone else and had been trying to take Aizen out of the picture before the rest of them ever got their heads out of their asses.”

Isshin made a startled noise and snapped his eyes across the table to his daughter; she glared right back at him. “You know I’m right. ��And anyway, what was he going to do? The amnesty wouldn’t have protected Ichimaru-san from the nuts in Seireitei that wanted a scapegoat, and he couldn’t just dump him in the human world without having his presence draw every hollow within a hundred miles. He had to make a deal with Urahara-sensei, and you and I both know that he wasn’t going to do anything without some cold, hard, bankable reasons for helping the Gotei 13 after all the ways they’ve screwed him over.”

Isshin choked on a laugh. “You know, sometimes I think that letting you work with Urahara might not have been the best idea I ever had.”

Yuzu shoved a bowl of yakisoba at him with a huff. “Like it was ever your decision.” She looked at Gin and smiled, as sweet to him as she’d been gruff to her father. “We would have found a way to study with Urahara-sensei no matter what Dad said. He just went along with it because he didn’t want to look like a pushover because we went behind his back.” She shot a pointed look at her brother. “He’s learned to pick his fights.”

Ichigo couldn’t smother his own grin at that. He was so proud of his sisters and he’d trained them to stand up for themselves no matter what. Gin knew that if they wanted to study with the Shinigami, Isshin wasn’t going to be able to stop them. Ichigo would never allow it, and from what he’d seen of Karin and Yuzu, he might not even have needed to step in.

Isshin sighed dramatically. “You see how they are? So stubborn,” he smiled at Gin for the first time, a sharp little glint hinting in his eye running counter to the broad grin, “they get it from their mother. Just like Ichigo. Once they get something in their heads there’s no talking them out of it. No matter how dangerous it might be.”

You’re a bad influence on my son, but I know him well enough not to push. He’d dig his heels in and be even more on your side, and I’m not dumb enough to do that, no matter what people might think of how Shibas handle things. Gin could almost hear the wheels turning. He could play that game, too, though. He’d spent enough time with Aizen that he could probably carry on twelve-layer conversations if needed.

“Luckily, all three of your children seem to be blessed with the uncanny ability to accumulate allies who will back them up no matter how dangerous the situation they find themselves in.” He smiled at the girls, wide and guileless, and he forced himself not to respond to the disbelieving snort from the redhead sitting beside him. “I know that there are at least half a dozen Captains willing to fall in line and ask how high if any one of them said jump.”

You don’t have to worry about Ichigo. There is a line of people willing to remove me from the picture in an instant if I hurt him. Gin let the smile drop from his face and actually met Isshin’s gaze, waiting until the man recognized the message and nodded once, satisfied at least for the moment.

“Have you seen Matsumoto-san recently, then?” Gin changed the topic, remembering what Isshin had said about them discussing Gin’s sponsorship.

The ex-captain nodded. “She drops by every now and then. Now that she’s forgiven me for disappearing on her.” He sighed. “Neither of us have been very good to her, have we, Ichimaru-san?”

There was a pain in the other man’s voice that echoed in Gin’s chest. No. Neither of them had been very good to Ran, no matter how much they cared for her.

Ichigo spoke up. “I saw her yesterday. She needed help with something Hitsugaya wanted her to set up in the training yard at the tenth.”

Gin looked at him and noticed there was a bit of flush along the tips of Ichigo’s ears. Like something was embarrassing him.

“Aw, did she flash her boobs at you again, Ichi-nii?” Karin teased, also having noticed the redness. “If she keeps doing that you should have Toshiro reprimand her for sexual harassment.”

Ichigo’s face was burning now. “It wasn’t like that at all. She hasn’t flashed me in…”

Amber eyes shot up to aqua ones and Gin couldn’t figure out what the panicked look in them meant.

“We set up some new kidō exercise targets and then had lunch. She offered to feed me because I’d done her a favor and we hadn’t talked in forever.” He glared at his sister. “That was it, and don’t start threatening to talk to Toshiro just because you want an excuse to talk to him. Ran doesn’t need any more trouble.”

Yuzu stood and headed for the kitchen, probably to bring out the dessert she was so excited about, but Gin couldn’t take his eyes off Ichigo. There was something strange, there. He hadn’t seen that kind of reaction in him in a long time. Not since… well, not since he’d defended him.

Karin stood to help her sister with a huff. “Fine. But you shouldn’t let her treat you like that. I’ve seen the way she gets all handsy and flirtatious when she’s out. It’s bad enough when it’s someone like Hisagi-san that she’s already had a relationship with, but she needs to know that there are boundaries that aren’t cool to cross.”

“I can take care of myself, Karin,” Ichigo said. “You’re just jealous because Toshiro gets an eyeful just standing next to her. It isn’t Ran’s fault.”

It was true, the younger Kurosaki was obviously jealous, her feelings for the snow prince out there for everyone to see, but Gin couldn’t explain away the curdling feeling in his own stomach at the idea of Ran hanging on Ichigo, drunk and flirtatious, her copious charms on display. She was beautiful, and Ichigo was only human, after all.

Ichigo tapped Gin on the shoulder, the warm hand pulling him from his reverie. “Look. Yuzu’s dojima roll. She’s been waiting for this for forever.”

Gin leaned into the touch a little, ostensibly to get a better view of the tray Yuzu was carrying and the heat of Ichigo’s skin almost scalded him he was so hyperaware of it.

And I’ve been waiting for this forever. The thought sucker punched him, and he couldn’t stifle a gasp.

“Everything okay there, Ichimaru-san?” Isshin asked, his eyes taking in the closeness between Gin and Ichigo.

Gin shoved it all down into the box where he kept all his emotions, refusing to let his feelings cause yet more problems.

“Of course, Kurosaki-san,” he said with a tilt of his chin, pulling his phone out of his pocket as a distraction. “I was just surprised by Yuzu-chan’s skills once again. That looks amazing.” He lifted the phone enquiringly. “Could I take a photo, please? It’s just too lovely not to record for posterity.”

Yuzu smiled brightly enough to not need extra lighting, and Gin was thankful that the dojima roll was, actually, impressive enough to merit his attentions. He spent a few minutes fussing over it and Yuzu, taking different pictures and letting Karin tell him about the other roll cakes that had failed and been passed off to Jinta at the shōten. Gin smiled and nodded and allowed the noise to wash over him as he slowly reassembled his shattered reality around his newly recognized feelings for the man sitting next to him.

He put the phone down and picked up his plate, nibbling at the sweet to make it last as long as possible before he had to face Ichigo alone on their trip back to their apartment.

It was ridiculous how obvious his feelings were when he stopped and actually looked at them; he wondered if they were that clear to everyone else. Isshin’s comments could have easily been a shovel talk, and he’d gotten similar don’t fuck with Ichigo lectures from several of his friends. Probably worst, looking back, had been the hand pats and understanding looks he’d gotten from Orihime. She’d said “Once Ichigo decides someone is worth caring about you just have to let him. He isn’t going to stop; he just takes a while to figure things out. So, be patient with him. Okay, Ichimaru-san?”

He takes a while…? Gin would have laughed if he didn’t think he wouldn’t be able to stop.

They stayed like that for a while, the wound-spring-tightness of his nerves slowly relaxing as they finished dinner and prepared to leave.

“Ichimaru-san!” Yuzu piped up from the table where she was standing. “Don’t forget your phone. Can I get a copy of that photo you took?”

She dragged her fingers across the screen and the phone lit up, and as quick as a striking cobra she was flipping through the icons searching for the camera function.

“Oh, here they are. I’d just sync the phones, but mine is charging upstairs and I…”

She stopped, staring at the photo library and Gin wondered what she’d seen. He didn’t use the camera for much, just random candid shots. He’d taken a lot of pictures of the displays at the Winter Festival, the lights and the people. Nothing special.

She flipped through screen after screen, her eyes getting bigger until Karin reached over and snagged it from her.

“Here, let me look. It can’t be that hard to find. I mean, he just took the pictures an hour ago.”

She looked down at the screen and then back up at her sister, sharing some twin mind-meld apparently before Karin stopped on one photo in particular and pulled it up.

“Ichi-nii,” she said, looking over at her brother where he was gathering their things to leave. “You should see this.”

Something heavy settled in Gin’s stomach.

“Sure, what is it?” He noticed that it was Gin’s phone in his sister’s hand. “Don’t tell me you stole his phone. Come on, what are you? Twelve?”

He reached out and as she dropped it in his hand Gin caught a glimpse of the screen.

It was Ichigo standing at the window of their apartment, the dawn sky casting a slanted light over his grinning face. He remembered the moment—they’d been laughing after breakfast, getting ready to open the Festival Studio, and Ichigo had been so striking in the half-light, the expression on his face so clear and bright, that Gin couldn’t resist taking his picture, even as Ichigo groaned and complained that he always looked stupid in photos, and why did Gin insist on doing this to him.

It was an attractive picture, no doubt, but he didn’t understand why it seemed to affect the girls so much.

Ichigo didn’t understand either, apparently.

“Huh, this one turned out pretty good.” He looked at Gin and rolled a shoulder. “I guess you’re good enough at this photography thing that you can even make me look okay.”

The girls were still doing the silent conversation thing and Isshin had caught on. He took two of his oddly graceful strides across the room and took the phone from Ichigo, looking at the image that was causing all the fuss.

First came surprise, but hard on its heels was something else, something softer, and Isshin’s whole stance changed as he looked up. He looked at Gin and paused before asking. “You think I could get a copy of this one?” He waggled the phone to indicate the picture and Gin nodded. “Don’t have any recent pics of Ichigo for the scrapbook, and Masaki would love this one.”

Ichigo snagged the phone and groaned. “Come on, old man, it’s just a picture. Gin takes tons of them. It’s no big deal.”

“But you’re smiling, Ichi-nii.” Yuzu’s voice was quiet. “You were smiling in all of them. I don’t think we have any pictures of you smiling. Not since… well, not since you were little.”

Not since his mother died, Gin filled in. The girls were looking at him intently, an almost painful hope on their face. He understood. He’d do almost anything to make the redhead smile, too.

“Well,” Ichigo was pinking around the edges again, the silent conversations finally making him too uncomfortable. “I guess he’s just good at getting me to smile. The sign of a good photographer, right?”

Isshin nodded. “Still. I’d like a copy. Sometime. There’s no rush. It’s not like you won’t be coming back for dinner next week, right Ichimaru-san? I’m sure Yuzu would love to use you as a guinea pig for more of her new recipes.”

Something settled between the two ex-captains with the invitation, an olive branch extended. Isshin was willing to bury the past because somehow Gin had made his son happy and he would do anything to help keep him that way, and Gin… well, Gin was no fool. The girls watched him, looking like they expected him to run from whatever this silent agreement was, but all Gin could think was that they weren’t going to fight to keep him out of Ichigo’s life, and for that he would put up with a thousand family dinners.

“I’d be delighted. Have you ever had persimmon bread, Yuzu? Karin? I’ll bring some with us the next time we come. You’ll love it.”

***

“Tonight is the last night. You should get to enjoy the festival a little instead of just working through it.”

Ichigo had been wheedling and coaxing for the past two days saying that Gin needed to relax a little, that he’d been working too hard. The truth was, Gin had been using work to hide from this thing that was threatening to consume him. He would see Ichigo over breakfast and long to brush the soft spikes of his hair down. He watched from the protected corner of his workspace, two monitors hiding his face as he spied on the other man reading or playing video games or sketching. He would lose his train of thought as he was matching silks for his costumes because a color would remind him of Ichigo, and at night? At night his dreams were haunted by aches that he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for decades.

“You know I have clients scheduled right up until five, Kurosaki-kun.” Gin couldn’t help but laugh at the pout that flitted across Ichigo’s face.

“Well, then, just promise that you’ll meet me for dinner as soon as your last appointment is finished. You don’t have to break down the studio until tomorrow. Classes have been over for six weeks and I still haven’t gotten to really celebrate having survived another year.”

Gin gave him a snake-sharp smile. “I see. Since that’s the case, I suppose I can make time. It isn’t safe to let you loose unsupervised. You’re like an unsupervised toddler… someone will give you a puppy and an espresso and then we’ll all be doomed.”

Ichigo laughed. “I’d point out that you’re the one that’s good at wrangling toddlers, but I don’t want to be wrangled. Although, if you followed me around like a puppy, I probably wouldn’t complain.”

Gin’s heart was imitating a taiko from the twilight kumidaiko performances, slowly ramping up to a ferocious pace before dropping off and then starting up again without warning.

Ichigo was dressed in black trousers and a long black jacket that looked surprisingly like his bankai robes and Gin had been caught staring more than once. It must have been welcome, because the redhead’s usual awkwardness in the face of that kind of attention had turned into a terribly attractive swagger of confidence that Gin wanted to inspire in him again and again.

He was so attractive, and not just physically. It was as if a gravitational field surrounded him, that pulled people towards him, and Gin longed to stop fighting and let it pull him closer and closer until there was no space left between them, to let the whirlpool that was Ichigo Kurosaki suck him under, surround him, and drown him.

“Is this a special occasion?” he asked, his voice light and still teasing. Ichigo paused and then nodded once, slowly.

“Sort of.” He didn’t explain, but his face was pink, and Gin didn’t think it was from the cold.

“In that case, how can I say no?” He bowed, an almost snarky thing from the waist, and Ichigo smiled. “Where shall I meet you?”

Ichigo looked like he’d won a prize and Gin was afraid that his face was turning pink as well. He hadn’t blushed like a schoolboy even when he’d been a schoolboy.

The things this man did to him.

“Seven, sharp. At the izakaya row. We’ll start there and see where the evening takes us.”

“Seven it is, then.” Gin watched Ichigo scoot away, obviously following plans that only he knew, and turned and headed into the studio, a spring in his step and a smile on his face.

Tonight, he would tell Ichigo how he felt, and if he was right, he wouldn’t be alone in his feelings.

***

Ichigo was walking on air.

Gin had finally agreed to go out with him, a night on the town… or at least on the festival. The izakaya alley would be a start with something to eat and then they’d get hot shochu and wander down to the light tunnel and look at all the displays.

He knew he hadn’t been imagining the looks being sent his way, and he certainly wasn’t imagining how those looks set his pulse racing. It was more nerve-wracking than battle in some ways; he wasn’t inexperienced, but he’d never felt anything like this.

Which is why he called in reinforcements.

“I want it to be perfect, Ran.”

Ichigo appreciated the older woman’s willingness to help, but he was worried that she was going to turn it into a side-show. She wasn’t exactly known for her tact.

“Are you sure about this, Ichigo?” She’d been waiting for him, slowly—or not so slowly—making her way through a bottle of something alcoholic, and the wobble in her voice indicated that things were likely to get a little emotional. She was Gin’s only family, though, and if Gin could run the gauntlet at the Casa Kurosaki, he could deal with a sauced sister.

“I’ve never been more sure, Ran.” The words came easily, and Ichigo was almost surprised by the depth of truth in them. “Watching Gin get comfortable in his own skin over the past year has been amazing. Getting to see him puff out his chest and posture with tiny samurai or soothe a tiny tearful geiko? I can’t even begin to explain how it makes me feel. I have to give this a try.”

Ran looked at him seriously, her gaze taking his flushed face and shining eyes. “And if he doesn’t feel the same? I’ll be honest, Ichigo. I can’t remember the last time he let anybody close enough to do more than have a quick tumble. Kira moped after him for decades, you know.”

Ichigo swallowed hard. “Yeah, I know. If he doesn’t feel the same way, it’ll be rough for a while. But I’ll be graduating next year, and I can find another apartment. He’s doing well enough that he can hire an assistant if he needs the extra help, so he won’t have to deal with me at all if he doesn’t want to. I’m not going to take my disappointment out on him, if that’s what you’re worried about. That wouldn’t be fair.”

Ran shook her head. “Every time you open your mouth you either make me think you’re stupid or you’re perfect.”

Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck. “Which is it this time?”

Ran leaned forward and put her arms around him, embracing him tightly and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Right now, I’d say you’re pretty damn perfect, Ichigo Kurosaki.”

They stood like that with the crowd parting around them, and Ichigo laughed, wrapping his arms around her as well.

“You really think it might work?” He looked down at her and grinned as she nodded.

“He’s smart enough to know a good thing when he sees it, and you are definitely good for him.”

Ichigo couldn’t hold his happiness in and swung her around like his would one of the twins, his heart filled with anticipation.

“Thank you Ran,” he said, setting her back on her feet, “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your support in this.”

Rangiku punched him in the shoulder and stepped back. “Don’t get too comfortable. If you screw up, I’m still going to tell your dad. And Renji. And Rukia. Believe me, I’ve thought this through.”

Ichigo grinned. “You wouldn’t be Gin’s sister if you hadn’t.”

***

The irony settled on him like a weighted blanket. His last appointment had cancelled—the child had come down with a cold—and Gin had been so excited to get to Ichigo early. He’d changed clothes—Ichigo had once seen him in a traditional kimono and had been enthusiastic in his praise, and whether it was just because it was a fine outfit or whether he thought it particularly attractive on Gin, he thought it would be a nice surprise since Ichigo had gone to such pains to dress up as well.

He’d chosen a gray silk montsuki and black hakama, something close to his shihakusho, and if he found comfort in it, then no one else needed to know.

The comfort hadn’t lasted.

He walked out of the festival grounds, just picking a direction and going. He didn’t know where he was headed, he just needed to get away. Clouds had moved in and the wind had picked up and the chill nipped at his skin. He barely noticed it.

The snow crunched under his feet. It was strange to make so much sound—his gigai made more noise than his reiatsu-silenced steps ever did—but everything was strange in the human world.

It was cold. His fingers were trembling and blue. He couldn’t feel them.

He couldn’t feel anything.

That wasn’t true. He felt pain. Pain that he hadn’t felt since he died in Ran’s arms, her scalding tears hot on his face. His blood hot as it gushed around her fingers.

That pain was icy now.

He forced one foot in front of the other, following the path carved into the snow by hundreds of other people. The sounds of the festival surrounded him, but they seemed distant. Muffled.

The only thing he could hear was Ichigo’s laugh. It echoed through his memory, clear and warm and everything he’d ever wanted to hear and nothing he ever wanted to hear again. It hurt too much when he was laughing for someone else.

Laughing for her. With her.

He hadn’t meant to spy—honestly—he’d left the studio early hoping to pick up two of the ridiculous hot chocolates that Ichigo had become so fond of as a surprise. He thought…. Well, it didn’t matter what he thought.

But Ran?

It wasn’t that he couldn’t understand someone loving her—he’d loved her forever—but… Ran? She was everything Ichigo rolled his eyes at in his sisters, all the over-the-top emotions and the talking and the teasing and the laughing.

Oh my God, the laughing.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed. No, that wasn’t true either. He’d laughed over dinner when they hadn’t ordered enough takoyaki and he’d managed to distract Ichigo long enough that he stole the redhead’s out from under his nose without him noticing. He’d laughed at Ichigo’s ridiculous Chappy pajamas—a gift from Rukia—when he’d run out of clean laundry. He’d laughed at the frown on Ichigo’s face when he realized that Gin had taken a picture of him cooing over Orihime’s new pet rabbit.

He supposed it was only fair that Ichigo would prefer the company of someone that could make him laugh, too.

His shuddering exhale surrounded his head in a cloud of fog.

It made sense in other ways. Ran asking for his help would explain why Ichigo’d invested so much time and effort in getting Gin on his feet. Helped him adjust to the human world. Certainly made more sense than him wanting to do it for Gin. They barely knew each other, and what they did know… well, it wouldn’t inspire kindness.

The weight of his thoughts dragged at him, just as the wet fabric of his hakama were dragging at him. His zori were soaked, tabi ruined in the snow, and he was cold. So cold.

And tired.

Maybe if he sat down and rested, just for a few minutes, he would be able to think of something else. Figure out what to do next. Right now, though, he just needed to rest. He just needed to close his eyes and pray he’d stop seeing the only two people he’d ever loved laughing together.

Without him.

***

Ran was crying again.

She was always crying around him.

“Stupid. Stupid. Never thought I’d be so happy that Urahara was a paranoid mad scientist. Never would have found you without the gigai’s tracking signal. Stupid. What were you thinking? Were you thinking? If you didn’t want to date the boy you didn’t have to do something this drastic, and this was drastic even for you.”

The words ran together, like water over stones.

“Kurosaki thinks you hate him. That somehow he pushed you to this. But I know you don’t hate him. I know you don’t hate him. Maybe you hate yourself. Maybe you hate being banished to the human world. But you don’t hate him.”

The only person Gin hated was Aizen, and he was out of the picture, so she was right. He didn’t hate Ichigo. Could never hate him.

“I swear, if you don’t die from reishi loss, I’m going to kill you. Isshin is going to kill you. Gods, that little almost spiritless one, the one with the red hair like Kurosaki? I think she was planning on chopping you up into stew before she remembered this body was just a gigai.”

Yuzu was going to turn him into stew? Why would Yuzu be angry with him? He didn’t do anything.

“He isn’t eating. He isn’t sleeping. All he does is stare at the wall like a zombie. You’ve been unconscious for three days, Gin. Three days. You’ve got to wake up. You’ve just got to wake up.”

A warm hand rested over his. He could feel the too smooth skin of a gigai, no sword callouses on her fingers. So, Urahara was keeping busy. Maybe Ran could keep this one so she could stay in the human world with Ichigo.

“I just got you back; I can’t lose you again, Gin. And Kurosaki,” she sucked in a shuddery breath, “I don’t know what he’s going to do. I just don’t know. He loves you so damn much. I think he might love you more than I do. So why? Why did you do this to him? To us? Why didn’t you just tell him no?”

She was crying again, her hands grasping his hard.

He loves you so damn much. Gin replayed her words, and something lurched in his chest. What did that mean? What did she mean? He forced himself up through the layers of exhaustion and weakness, swimming up through the waves that slapped at his consciousness.

“He loves you.” The words were broken glass in his throat, dry and sharp and everything he never wanted to say, but he got them out. “I saw the two of you at the festival. Laughing.”

His eyes wouldn’t open. Apparently Urahara’s gigais had a built-in sense of self-preservation. He knew he’d never survive looking at her face as he admitted what he knew.

A gasp and choking sound caught somewhere in her throat, whether in shock at his having regained consciousness or at what his first words were.

Then the rant began in earnest.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You unbelievable idiot!” Ran leaned over the bed and slapped his face, once, then twice, until finally Gin forced his eyes open a slit to see her tear-streaked, furious, face. “You mean to tell me that all of this, this hell, is because you saw me laughing with Kurosaki?”

Gin turned his face away, unable or unwilling to continue the conversation. Reishi loss or not, he could still feel the pain simmering under his skin and Ran clearly didn’t understand.

“Gin,” Something of his pained expression must have registered. Ran started, stopped and then started again, her voice wavering between tears and angry laughter. “Dear, stupid Gin. He was asking for my blessing. As your family. He wanted…” a hot tear dripped on his chin as she hovered over him, “he wanted everything to be perfect for you, and that meant making sure that I approved. Of him. For you.” The last words were practically spat out and he finally looked at her. “What you saw was him incandescently happy because he loved you, you utter, utter fool.”

Time stopped and Gin’s brain kicked in running through everything Ran had said since he’s first regained consciousness.

Oh no…

“Where is he?” the words shook, along with every cell in his borrowed body as he tried to push himself up. “I need to speak to him. To explain.”

If the pain of seeing him happy with Ran was excruciating, knowing that something he’d done had made him so miserable was infinitely worse.

And Ran… he tried to raise his hand to her face but still didn’t have enough reishi reserves to operate the gigai fully, so he squeezed her hand where it rested on the bed instead.

“Oh Rangiku, I am so sorry. I can’t seem to stop hurting you.”

Ran leaned in and pressed their foreheads together, her breathing not yet steady but getting there.

“I hadn’t noticed,” she said, a few final tears meandering down her cheeks. “I’m too busy being happy to have my brother back.”

Gin marveled at her forgiveness and swore to himself again that he would do his damnedest to save her from this kind of pain in the future.

“Now,” Ran said, perching on the side of his bed, still holding his hand. “How are we going to fix this, because I’m not letting Isshin kick your ass. I have my family honor to protect.”

Gin didn’t know. A hundred years with Aizen had done a lot for his ability to manipulate people, but it sure as hell hadn’t taught him how to grovel, and he was afraid there was a lot of groveling in his future.

If it worked, though, it would be worth it. His pride was nothing compared to Ichigo.

***

Ichigo jumped a little as the alarm buzzed in his pocket. It looked like one of those coasters the restaurant hostess gave you while you were waiting for a table to open, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Kisuke had liberated a few and repurposed them to run on reishi rather than reinvent the wheel. It didn’t matter, though. Kisuke could steal all the gadgets in Tokyo and Ichigo wouldn’t care as long as he let Ichigo keep this one.

This one was telling him that Gin was awake.

He let himself slump against the basement wall, the muscles in his legs refusing to hold him up. Gin was awake, the gigai was functional, the worst hadn’t happened. Gin was awake.

It had been a nightmarish couple of days, and he knew people were worried about him. His dad threatened to tie him down to one of the beds in the clinic and hook him up to an IV if he didn’t at least drink some tea and eat the power bar he thrust in his face. Ichigo had, but only because it was easier than fighting. After that, the girls had hugged him and Tessai had checked on him like clockwork, and even Jinta, the little punk, had hovered in the background in case he wanted something.

They figured it out soon enough: all he wanted was Gin.

For twenty-four hours he’d been glued to the bed upstairs, watching for any sign of consciousness—a finger twitch, a breath, anything—but unlike a healing body a gigai was essentially corpse-like in its stillness. Gin’s pale skin was faded to gray, his hair limp and stuck to his head where it had been soaked with snowmelt and dried haphazardly.

He was a gruesome wax doll laid on a bier, a horrible half-ghost waiting to float away, and somehow… somehow, he was still beautiful. The quiet buzz of Gin’s reiatsu echoed through the room, the only thing that mattered, because as long as Ichigo could feel that, there was hope.

The training ground was dark and quiet except for the new buzzing in his hand. He’d taken over the basement on day two, at first determined to stay there until the moment Gin waked up, but he became more hesitant as the silent room loomed and questions ate at his mind.

He still didn’t understand what happened—why Gin had wandered out into the storm instead of meeting him as they’d arranged, and he was struggling with the aftermath.

It had taken him hours to realize Gin wasn’t just late he was missing, and then hours more to find him, finally having Kisuke activate Gin’s gigai’s tracker. When he finally found him, Gin was past shivering, so cold that his body had given up trying to warm itself, and Ichigo could vividly remember the bird-bone weight of him under yards of sodden silk as he scooped him into his arms. It was not the way he’d daydreamed of holding him at all, all the joy leached out of it, and he ripped open a garganta straight to the shōten and Kisuke’s labs, turning his precious cargo over to his mad scientist best friend.

Ichigo sighed and levered himself to his feet, shoving the alarm back into his pocket. It was time. Kisuke had pointed out that Gin might not be up to facing everyone when he woke, and Ichigo was quick enough on the uptake to hear the unspoken you in that message, but it didn’t matter. If Gin was there, then Ichigo would be there, too.

Being Kurosaki Ichigo came with a lot of baggage, not the least of which was people thinking they understood him, but only three or four actually knew that underneath all the shiny hero stuff he was incredibly selfish. He fought for who he loved and what he wanted and what he believed, and if someone else didn’t like it, then screw them. Whether Gin ever shared his feelings was immaterial. The truth was that Gin was his, and he would do whatever he had to to keep it that way. If that meant keeping his feelings to himself, he could do that. If it meant giving the other man space, fine. He’d stand back and watch and wait when he had to, chase and cheat when he could, and if after all of it Gin never came to feel the same way, well, Ichigo would just stay. He’d be a friend. Assist in the studio. Find Gin someone else that he could love and hold and grow old with because he’d been alone too long, and he deserved something more, and because loving someone was just that simple.

But, if Gin ever did something self-destructive like this again, he’d lock him in a room and throw away the key, because loving someone was simple, but losing them was hard, and he couldn’t do that again.

***

Gin shrugged into the clothes Urahara had brought him, grateful for the soft workout pants and the extra pair of socks, but his lip twisted at the yellow hoodie on the top of the pile. It wasn’t his first choice of style, but he was freezing, and the extra layer made sense. After all the trouble he’d put the man to over the past few days, the last thing he was going to do was complain about the color of his generosity.

It was a pity that the silk kimono had been another casualty of his breakdown. He’d daydreamed about the look on Ichigo’s face when he saw it for the first time, fantasized about the temptation that the layers would present to him, but now he could only imagine what kind of memory it would drag along with it. Maybe he would get the chance to try again someday.

Ran had left soon after Gin’s awakening, clearing out so that Urahara could run his diagnostics and he’d only left after he’d satisfied himself that there was no more leaking from Gin’s spirit body. He explained that he’d had to remove the reiatsu limiter from the gigai during his healing because it was interfering with his reishi levels returning to normal and it would feel strange after all the time he’d spent in the other, muffled state.

He was right, but it was a good strange. It was almost like having eyes again after having been blind. Urahara and Tsukabishi kept their reiatsu tamped down tightly, but he could feel the sunburst of power that was Ichigo, at first tucked away in the basement where he’d apparently been for the past two days, but now clearly moving in his direction.

Gin pressed his shaking hands against the soft cotton covering his legs. Hiding wasn’t an option; he wasn’t going to be a coward and run away again. He just didn’t want to see the hurt that he knew he’d caused.

There was a soft knock at the door sooner than he’d expected. Ichigo must want to get their meeting over with as well.

“Come in, Kurosaki-kun,” he answered, his voice thankfully steady.

The door slid open and the sheer power that flooded the room was overwhelming. Ichigo had always had that power, but seeing him like this, without the veil over him, was breath-taking.

The redhead, though, looked almost as stunned by what he saw, awkwardly standing frozen in the doorway.

“I’m sorry.” Gin got right to the groveling. “Kurosaki-kun… Ichigo-kun… I am so sorry.”

He watched Ichigo’s face closely, watched the amber eyes widen and the lips part on a breathy intake.

“I’m just glad you’re alright.” His voice was hoarse, and his eyes took Gin in from his bedhead to his long, narrow rabbit-feet. It didn’t look like he was angry, but he didn’t know everything yet. Angry was still a definite possibility.

“I’m afraid there isn’t anywhere to sit except the bed,” he waved behind him, wishing he’d taken the time to straighten out the messy bedding, but it was too late for that now. “I’d like to explain. Or to try. If you wouldn’t mind.” He felt the muscles of his face try to smile, but there was nothing happy about it.

Ichigo was still just standing there, staring.

“Do I have something on my face?” Gin asked. The words fell a little flat, but he didn’t know what else to say. Ichigo shook his head and brought himself back to something a little more normal.

“No, it’s just that that hoodie is…”

Gin snorted a little laugh. “I know. Not the most attractive thing, but Urahara was gracious enough to loan it to me since my own clothes… well, at least these were warm and dry.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Ichigo shook his head again, but this time with more intent. “I was just going to say that it was mine. I must’ve left it here the last time I stayed.” He swallowed and Gin watched his throat work, a faint hint of red dusting his cheekbones. “It looks good on you.”

Ichigo’s sweatshirt. He was wearing Ichigo’s sweatshirt. That was why Urahara was grinning behind his fan as he left the clothes. The man was a menace.

“I didn’t know,” he said, halfway through an apologetic little bow before Ichigo could step forward, a hand outstretched.

“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind. I like it on you. It…” a battle of thoughts was happening behind those eyes and Gin forced himself stand perfectly still so he didn’t startle the younger man into pulling his hand back, finally breathing again when whatever process Ichigo was working through was finished. He met Gin’s gaze, unblinking. “It makes you look like you’re mine.”

Like you’re mine. The world tilted and suddenly Ichigo’s arms were around him, guiding him back to the bed and settling him on the edge before he could end up in a pile on the floor.

“Take it easy,” he said, chafing Gin’s freezing hands between his warm ones. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Shit. And after pushing you so hard…”

Ichigo’s voice was rough with suppressed emotion, but his hands were incredibly gentle, and Gin couldn’t believe that this was happening.

“Did you talk to Ran?” It was a cheap way to start, hoping that Ran had already shared his shame, so he didn’t have to break that ground fresh.

“Matsumoto? No. Kisuke said something about her having to go back to Soul Society. I think Kyōraku wanted an update or something since she’d been here so long without an assignment.”

“Oh, okay.” Gin had known she had to go back, just as he now knew it was up to him to explain. “I just didn’t want to waste your time on things you already knew.”

Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck with a rueful sound. “Yeah. It’s probably safe to assume I don’t know anything. What happened? I thought…” he stared at Gin and there was a flash of heartbreak in his eyes that Gin would have given years of his life to erase.

“Please,” Gin gripped Ichigo’s hand in his lap, refusing to let it go, leaning forward to almost touch their temples together, “just let me explain. I screwed up—monumentally, according to Ran—not you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Ichigo turned his hand palm up, leaving it in Gin’s grip. “Okay. If you say so, I’ll believe you, but something happened, and I’d really like to understand so it doesn’t happen again.”

Gin sucked in a deep breath and tried to slow his heart. He didn’t deserve this much understanding, but Gods he was greedy enough to want it.

“You know me. I’ve never let people close. Ran-chan is the only person I’ve ever cared about. I’m not… temperate in my love. You saw what I did in the name of protecting her. Saw what I became.”

Ichigo nodded but didn’t interrupt, a sad look on his face.

“I don’t know if you realize what it was like for me, following Aizen for so long. I didn’t have friends. I didn’t have relationships. Sex wasn’t common and when it did happen it didn’t mean anything. I didn’t see anyone more than once or twice, and I was okay with that. I didn’t have the room or the resources or the time to actually care about someone.”

He paused and tried to straighten out the tangle of his thoughts. “It wasn’t until the fight with Aizen was over and my wounds had healed that I even began to feel like I had a soul again, and then I was sent to the human world where everyone’s emotions are so close to the surface all the time that you can practically see them. It was like having all my skin rubbed raw, I was feeling again, and I’ll be the first to admit I didn’t know how. I certainly didn’t know what to do with you.”

Ichigo made a noise. “What do you mean you didn’t know what to do with me? You never seemed to have a problem with me.”

“I didn’t have a problem with you, you just weren’t what I expected. Do you know how strange it was to deal with someone like you after a hundred years of Aizen? I watched everything you did for hidden meanings and agendas but every single time you were just exactly what you promised. No lies. No manipulation. No long game.”

The redhead snorted. “Yeah. Kisuke told me once I had all the cunning of a golden retriever, and that he was lucky that I was almost as trainable.”

It was true enough to be funny and they shared a laugh.

“After a while I stopped searching for subtext and just started accepting you at face value. You were the only person I’d trusted in a hundred years, kind and smart and for some reason you valued me. I never had a chance. I fell. Hard.”

Ichigo made a sound deep in his throat, something that sounded wounded and hopeful and confused, and Gin couldn’t look at him or he’d never get the next part of the story out.

“At first I didn’t believe that you could feel the same way. No one would or could. Self-loathing isn’t a pretty thing, and I stewed in it. I told myself I was happy with what I had—not many people could count themselves on the short list of people you’d go to war for, and I was so grateful that you’d put me on that list but it wasn’t enough. I wanted more.”

Ichigo raised his free hand to rest on the back of Gin’s neck, the warm weight of it grounding and comforting, and the blond sighed.

“Then things started to change. You started touching me more, smiling at me more, and I couldn’t believe my good fortune. You seemed interested in something more than just being friends, but I still didn’t trust that something like that could ever happen for me. I started to doubt almost as much as I hoped, and then you asked me to meet you at the festival and I told myself that if you did feel like I did, then every moment I put off telling you was a moment lost, so I—how did your Shakespeare put it?—screwed my courage to the sticking point and told myself that it was time to put myself out there and let you decide what you wanted, and I would take whatever you were willing to give me.”

“At the Festival?” Ichigo asked, and Gin nodded.

“It seemed like you had the same idea, so I dressed in my finest, wanting to offer you the best version of myself, and I left the studio early hoping to find you so I could spend every moment I could with you. And then, when I finally found you, you had your arms wrapped around another. Laughing. Allowing her to kiss you.”

Ichigo sat bolt upright and hissed out, “You saw me with Matsumoto.”

Gin nodded, curling in a little on himself with the pain of the memory. “It made a twisted kind of sense. Your family teased you about her, and she visited you often when she didn’t even come to see me. If you cared for her and she’d asked for you to help me, to take me under your wing, it is exactly the kind of thing you’d agree to. You’d go to any lengths for someone you loved, even rehabilitate a villain. And you looked so happy.” He couldn’t keep the wistful tone out of his voice. “It’s ironic that even while I felt like my world was falling apart, I couldn’t begrudge you your happiness. I just couldn’t stay and watch it. So, I left. I didn’t make a conscious decision, I just turned in the opposite direction and started walking. I didn’t stop until my gigai stopped me.”

And that was it. He’d laid it all out, and now it was up to Ichigo.

God, he was tired.

“I didn’t ever intend this.” He waved haphazardly at the room and the mess that his collapse had caused. “And I cannot begin t’ apologize enough for any hurt I caused you.”

Ichigo pulled him forward, hand tight on the back of his neck, and Gin could feel a tremble as it passed through his body. They sat like that in silence, heads together for a long time before Ichigo spoke.

“So, you don’t hate me?” The words were a whisper between them, insecure but hopeful. Gin whispered back. “I could never. I love you; I’ve loved you forever.”

Ichigo pulled back a little, his eyes huge and dark, searching Gin’s face for something he apparently found because he nodded once and leaned a fraction closer. “Good. I love you, too. I’m going to kiss you now.”

***

Gin’s lips were thin and dry, frozen still under his, shocked into immobility but not pulling away. Ichigo pulled back and their breath mingled hot between them, panting as if they’d shunpo’d the breadth of Seireitei.

“Wanted this for so long,” he murmured, leaning in to nip along the edge of Gin’s lower lip, “was so afraid I’d lost you.”

Something in that sparked movement and long fingers suddenly cupped his chin, tilting his head so that Gin could lean back in and slot their mouths together. It was sweetness and heat, lighting up all of Ichigo’s nerves, everything more intense than a simple brush of lips should be.

Gin was the one that pulled back then, fingers sliding up to hold Ichigo’s head where he wanted it, pressing their foreheads together again as they caught their breath.

“God, you’re gorgeous. Can’t believe you’re mine.” Gin’s accent is thicker, his pupils huge, the aquamarine nothing but a gossamer rim, and Ichigo has never seen anything so beautiful. “You’re stuck with me now. Never going t’ let you go.”

The possessiveness of the words sent a shiver through him and Ichigo slid his hands over Gin’s narrow hips, ghosting them along his long, lean flanks. He was thin, but it was all whipcord strength and sinew. Ichigo couldn’t wait until he had time to explore the sharp planes of his body, to dig his thumbs into the bony ridge of Gin’s hipbones, to kiss the dip between the wings of his shoulder blades. Those things would come soon enough, though. For now, with his arms around this man, he had everything he could ask for.

He leaned into his future, breathing hot against Gin’s cheek, recognizing his words for the promise that they were. He would always be there, Ichigo belonging to him as much as Gin belonged to Ichigo. He’d follow Ichigo into the depths of Hell if he had to to pull him back home, because that was what this was. What they were together.

He settled his arms around Gin’s waist, his embrace tight and insistent. “Why would I ever want to leave?” He pressed their lips together again, heart stuttering at how perfect it felt, before pulling back and smiling the way that only Gin could make him smile. “You’re my home.”

#ginichi winterfest 2020 #ginichi #gin ichimaru #ichigo kurosaki #ANGST AND FLUFF #also on ao3 #feelingfredly #panic attack/accidental self-harm #if that's a problem #be good to yourself #bleach

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diabolik-trash-heap · 5 years ago

Note

Ranmaru + 18

For smut prompt “I’m still mad at you” with Ranmaru x reader.A very, veeeery late birthday present for @ranmarukurosakis. I’m so sorry it took so long, but I hope you enjoy it.

“30 minutes until we are live, Kurosaki-san.”

You were jolted from your thoughts by the loud rapping on the door, followed by a man’s muffled warning of Quartet Night’s impending interview. You glance over to Ran, hardly fazed, still fussing with himself in the green room mirror.

“I really hate these damn things…” he groans, straining his fingers through his hair one last time to get it to that perfect level of rocker chic. “Hopefully they will talk to the other guys more than me. Maybe a drink or two would help. What do you say?”

Ran turns his attention to you, the bottle of whiskey in hand. The tiny smirk melts away when he sees the frown still plastered on your face from earlier.

“H-hey…are you okay?” The usual gruffness of his voice had dissipated entirely.

“I’m still mad at you.” You shift your weight back, bringing your knees close to you. Staring at a crumpled wrapper on the ground seemed to be the more viable option than looking at his face knowing you would soften immediately.

“Look…I’m sorry about earlier.”

“I know you are. But it still hurt.“

“I know I say some dumb shit sometimes.”

“Oh?"

Ran squeezes the back of his neck, hesitant with his next words.

"Oi…okay a lot.” he confesses, punctuating with a sigh. Arms folded, he digs a heel into floor, waiting upon your next response.

Truth of matter you didn’t want to dwell on it any longer, but your stubbornness was putting you at a standstill and not wanting to forgive him just yet. Unfortunately, Ran caught the small snort in response to his admission, and you try to cover it up immediately with a cough and more pouting. A poor attempt.

“Guess I gotta earn your forgiveness." A conniving grin spreads across his face as he unfolds arms and glides over to you. He leans into you with one knee to your side, pinching your chin between his fingers and jerking your head up towards his.

"You know if you keep making that face there’s no way I’m going to just leave you alone.” He lowers his face to yours, eyes dark and intense. A hand wraps around your neck, shoving your body against the back of the couch. Before you could even come back for air, your lips meet in a searing kiss, his tongue slipping between yours to take over, tasting quite sweet. Any lingering negative thoughts you had dissolved into an exchange of wanton moans, your eyes closing to absorb yourself in his touch and scent.

His wandering fingers find their way underneath your shirt and bra, cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his thumb and finger. Your body clenches at the sudden intrusion, the whimpers muted with kisses so deep and greedy it felt like he wanted to consume all of you. You come back to your senses for a split second, grabbing his shirt and pushing him off of you.

“Ran.” You had to take another gulp of air before you could finish, eyes darting to the clock hanging on the far wall. “You have less than 25 minutes.”

“Tch! You think I don’t know how to get you off by now?"

You roll your eyes. "I would rather not risk.. .GAH!”

Ran interrupts you when he yanks you down by the ankles, landing you on your back with a thud. He tugs repeatedly at your belt, undoing it with a clank and tossing your pants and underwear onto the floor before you can argue. He dives between your legs, inhaling your scent with a faint growl, his ashy hair tickling the inside of your thighs as he nips at them.

“Heh."

Bemused, Ran runs his thumb along your folds, gathering the wetness already forming and licking it off with a smirk.

"Looks like I already had you going.”

He wasn’t wrong. The sudden rush of his mouth and hands all over you made your body hot and craving it elsewhere.“That’s not the point Ran, I don’t want you being….ahhhh, fuck.”Your hips jolt when he plays with your clit, flicking it with his tongue and sucking hard on the sensitive nub, relishing the sight of your squirming hips underneath his ministrations.

“Fuck you taste amazing. Open up more for me.”

His hands wrap around your thighs, demanding you keep them spread wide, latching his mouth over your entrance. He knew how to put his tongue to good use, wriggling it about inside, darting in and out of your cunt, watching your every reaction like a ravenous wolf. Ran never was the type afraid to get a bit messy, evident by the slickness covering his lips and chin. Two fingers ease inside of you, curling up and pressing into your g-spot as he vigorously thrusts into you. His lips wrap around your clit again, sucking in perfect marriage with the thick digits buried in your gut. Every stroke of his fingers made your legs shaky and weak, yet you wanted nothing more than squeeze your thighs like a vice around him. You glance back over to the clock. Really was a shame it couldn’t last.

“15 minutes Ran,” you warn between shallow pants, the fabric of the couch noticeably wet underneath you. You loved the way his fingers filled you, but your body was aching for his cock to be buried inside of you.

“Guess it’s time for the main show huh? A shame ‘cause I could eat you out all damn day.”

You hear the grind of the zipper, shifting his hips enough to free his straining cock, his fingers still knuckle-deep in you. He plants a single kiss on your swollen clit before moving on, dragging himself up between your legs and joining you in another kiss, the entire weight of his body pinning you down. You swipe your tongue across his lips, cleaning your own juices off for him.

“Dirty girl.” he groans into your mouth, grinding his cock against your clit.

He slides his cock between your folds several times, lining it up at your entrance. He moves his hips forward, pushing inside, the flared head of his cock stretching you out by every inch. The heat rises to your cheeks as he fills you to the hilt, clenching around him when the initial shudder passes through you.

“Always so tight for me.” Ran pulls back, thrusting inside again with strained words. “Even after everything we did to you last night.”

You scoff. “You know I don’t break that easily.”

“You sure about that? I seem to remember you saying how you ‘couldn’t take anymore’ a few times…”

Your face starts to burn from ear to ear, frustrated there was no hiding your embarrassment from him. It only served to make him beam harder.

“…shut up and fuck me already.”

“Heh, I love a woman who knows what she wants."

Ran raises one of your legs back, obeying your demands without a fuss and slams harder into you. You grab at his shirt for leverage, arching your back with every crash of his hips against yours, swearing every time he somehow buried further inside. It was getting harder to contain the noises coming from you, biting the back of your hand to keep your voice down. It felt like he was trying to make you falter.

“You still mad at me?”

“Maybe a little bit.” you tease, reaching for his tie. Twisting it in your hand, you jerk him towards you, lips locking in a rough kiss.

Playfully, you thread your fingers through his hair, his hips slowing as the new sensation of you scratching and kneading takes over. But the sadistic part of you lashes out when you hit the base, grabbing a fistful and jerking his head back to expose his neck. Ran spits out a loud moan at the sudden pain surging down his back and you trace your tongue along his Adam’s apple, sensing every muscle tense in his lean figure.

"You like that, huh?” you purr, a smirk creeping across your face as your teeth graze across his neck.

Ran snatches you by the wrists, pinning both of them with a single hand with ease.

“You keep doing that shit and I’m definitely going to miss my interview.” Ran growls, fire burning in his eyes. He angles your hips even higher, driving himself even deeper into you with a manic thrust. If it weren’t for a swift hand slapping over your mouth, the yelp that flew out of you that instant would have indubitably exposed the two of you.

“Hey Ran Ran…you alright buddy? We’re going to be on in about ten minutes.” Reiji knocks a couple times, waiting upon confirmation.

“Ran Ran? Oh…”

Ran didn’t miss a single beat, ignoring his band mate who stood mere feet away as his cock tore you in two. He was too close to stop now, and he knew you were too. He buries his face into your neck, biting down and kissing the red spots beginning to bloom. It was a welcomed pain. His grip loosens on your wrists and migrates to your hands, his long fingers entangling with yours.

“You know he’s still out there right?” Ran reminds you between strained groans, his breath hot against your neck. “You should let him know we’re just about finished."

He was right. And the image of Reiji standing outside, listening in on every moan, every cry, every slap of flesh against each was enough to shove you over the edge, your mind hazing over when your body finds its release. Your legs begin to shake uncontrollably, Ran holding your hands tighter with every wave he felt pass through you.

"Let it all out. I wanna cum with you."

Head thrown back, your hoarse cries become unfiltered, no doubt being heard by the party that stood outside. His own body starts to tremble, his breaths shallow and hips erratic in their movement, dancing right at the edge himself. He ruts himself inside you one final time with a deep growl, his cock twitching as he pumps load after load of cum into you. Sliding his arm around your neck, he embraces you tight, peppering your face with kisses between pants.

"I love you. Don’t you forget that.”

His face and chest were flushed a light pink, accented by a sheen of sweat that already had formed across his face, looking so vulnerable yet tranquil even as his heart still pounded away.

“I love you too.”

He presses his forehead against yours, savoring the moment. It was pretty safe to say you weren’t upset with him anymore.

“SHIT.”

It dawns on Ran what time it was, and he leaps up from the couch to fix his himself up. He checks the mirror, surveying the damage, especially to his hair, running his hand through a couple times to try and fix it, with no avail. It just would have to do at this point. Despite his usual calculated appearance, he would have to chalk this one up to bedhead.

Even in his rush, he found a few seconds to spare, rushing over to you for a chaste kiss as you struggle to fix your own clothes.

“Make sure you keep it all in there for later when I can properly fuck you.” Ran whispers, sliding his hand between your legs for a moment before running off again.

He swings open the door, leaping back when he sees Reiji standing there. Reiji peeks over Ran’s shoulder at you, shit-eating grin plastered on his face, and then looks back at Ran.

“That’s a good look for you Ran Ran. Does onii-san gets a ride after the interview too?"

"Oi! REIJI!”

“Mengo mengo~!”

Ran barges through Reiji, nearly knocking him over. Reiji starts the shut the door and whine something about him being mean, but stops immediately when your eyes meet.

“Guess we’ll be seeing you later.” Reiji winks, closing the door behind him and running after the grumbling rocker.

#reader x ranmaru #kurosaki ranmaru #ranmaru #my writing #utapri smut #ask #prompt #uta no prince sama #utapri

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orengjijyuusu · 5 years ago

Text

Articles of Clothing (A Jinguji Ren fanfic)

Okay so I wrote this prior to the release of Ren's new solo album, "Rose Rose Romance." It's basically about how Ren got his inspiration for the cover art of his *cough* strip tease *cough* album. The boys will all be in it so enjoy!

"We need to think of the concept art for your upcoming album, Jinguji." The visiting photographer ponders while pacing the room.

The strawberry blonde idol looks attentively at the possible designs and themes of his latest single, "Rose Rose Romance." He retorts at the photographers various pitches, going back and forth with how the wardrobe would be drawn up.

Across the table, Nanami is busy composing her next arrangement for Syo's upcoming album. She scribbles notes on sheet music feverishly, not really paying attention to the two discussing their business. Despite being insistent on NOT needing to be present at a meeting involving photoshoots and album artwork, Ren had successfully convinced her to accompany him for, "moral support" reasons.

The composer automatically knew the role of being, "moral support" was poppycock, but how could she say no when he worked so hard on this project. Plus Ren could possibly draw some inspiration from the score now that she thought about it; so maybe she could be of non "moral support" use yet.

"My lady." His velvety voice breaks her concentration, causing her head to snap up in response. Ren's cheek is cupped into his palm while he smiles knowingly at her; it seems he had been calling her name for a bit.

Nanami blinks, "Sorry, I was in the zone. What's up?" She quickly straightens her stack of paperwork in her lap.

"May I see our arrangement?" He asks politely, with heavy emphasis on "our." "It would help a lot with the wardrobe theme I'm going for."

She nods and sifts through her folder, eventually finding the sheet music and handing it across the table to the idol. He gives her a wink before mouthing, "thank you." Nanami smiles bashfully and watches as Ren scans the piece.

The photographer waits expectantly as Ren begins humming the tune to himself, the gears of his mind turning as he thinks of the overall message of his album.

After a minute, he places the papers on the table and turns to the photographer. "This song is obviously very sensual, in composition and in lyrics. We definitely need roses in this. And we need something that epitomizes that message in terms of dress. We something daring, something passionate, something..." he purposefully glances over at Nanami with a teasing sultry gaze, "Something sexy."

Her face goes red at the comment and buries her growing blush in the paperwork.

Ren laughs at his composer exhibiting such an adorable reaction to his shameless flirts. He's still happy he can get a reaction like that from her despite using it numerous times during their development with Starish.

Meanwhile, the photographer ignores the underlying comment the idol made and took it as inspiration instead. "That's our Jinguji Ren for you! Always knowing what style to go for! This is plenty of ideas, thank you so much!!" They throw their hands in the air, "Oh I have so much to do now! I have to plan. I have to set up the wardrobe department. I have-I have to order all the fabrics!"

Ren chuckles and holds his hands up, "I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with. Thank you for your hard work." He and Nanami bow at the photographer.

"Yes! Thank you for your hard work!" The photographer scrambles to pick up their files, "I must be going now! I have IDEAS brewing! Come by the studio on Friday. I'll be in touch!!" They rush out of the room with enthusiasm, leaving the two clients alone.

Both Nanami and Ren breathe a sigh of relief once they leave. Who knew photographers had so much energy. Ren turns to Nanami with expectant eyes, "May I treat you to dinner, my lady?" Nanami shoulders her bag and places her folders inside, "Maybe next time, I just got a melody I could use for Syo's new song and I don't want to lose the thought."

Nanami could have swore she saw Ren's shoulders slump at her rejection to the invitation, however he smiles and gives her head a pat.

"That's our composer. Hard at work." He chuckles lightheartedly.

Nanami looks up at him and notices his naturally drooping eyelids. It's not that he was sad, that's just how Ren's eyes normally look. But goddangit it wasnt helping the feeling of guilt growing in her chest. She purses her lips and thinks for a hot moment. Then she looks back up with a smile, "But, I wouldn't be opposed to stopping somewhere and getting ice cream."

The idol's eyes upturn the second she offers. He gives her a teasing smirk, "Making time for me, hmm? You truly have a heart of gold, my lady."

"You offered in the first place." Nanami erupts in a fit of giggles as they leave to go back to the agency.

*Later...*

"I assume your meeting went alright?" Masato asks, not looking up from his calligraphy as Ren walks into the room. His roommate throws his bag onto his desk and stretches his arms out, "We have an idea. Our lady came quite in handy with the composition."

Masato's eyebrow twitches, "I swear, stop dragging Nanami everywhere. You're putting her through a lot of trouble what with all the important work she needs to do. Distractions won't help her in the slightest."

Ren plops himself on his bed and yawns, "You're no fun as usual. Lucky for me, we went out for ice cream to end our PRODUCTIVE day. Which was LOTS of fun by the way."

The bluenette slaps his brush onto the rice paper in irritation, "Everytime you go somewhere with her, it always turns into date night for you." He growls.

"Jealous?" Ren scoffs, leaning on his elbow to look smugly at Masato.

His roommate rips away the ruined calligraphy and starts on a fresh piece, "Like I would ever want to stoop down to your level. Unlike you, I have impulse control."

Ren rolls his eyes so far back he swore he could see his brain, "Whatever. I'm not going to be irked by your party pooping attitude. Gotta put my best foot forward for the ladies when I do my photo shoot."

He sits up briefly and strips himself down to his briefs. After carelessly tossing his clothes to the floor, he turns on his side and shuts off his lamp, "Goodnight, bowlhead."

Masato makes a "Tch!" sound with his teeth before concentrating again. "At least shower in the morning, idiot." He mumbles.

*The Next Day*

"No no! It's all wrong!!" The photographer groans, walking up to Ren as he poses with some roses.

The idol sighs and places the flowers on the floor, "I agree, something feels off about the setting."

The photographer places his chin in his hand, "No it's not that...its the outfit. I...I dont know why but it doesn't look right. It looked fine before..."

The two wrack their brains trying to figure out another solution for the cover photo, however each idea seemed to stay farther from what they originally wanted for the theme.

"Let's mix it up a bit. Wardrobe, we need to discuss." The photographer snaps their fingers and two staff members come over with a rack of clothes and sketch pads.

Ren exhales exhaustingly and goes to sit in the makeup department to do touch ups. As he lets the staff do their work, he notices Nanami through the mirror followed closely by his superior, Ranmaru.

Without turning around, he raises a hand and stares straight at the two in the reflection, "Hey, what brings you two here?"

Nanami walks to the side of his chair and hands him a bento, "Courtesy of Kotobuki bento. Hijirikawa noticed you didn't really eat anything for breakfast so we brought it over."

Ren takes it with a loving smile, "I appreciate it, lady."

"Tch..." Ranmaru scoffs quietly, "I'm the one who actually got it from that idiot." He saunters off towards the snack table.

"Of course, thank you as well, Ran-chan." Ren chuckles before turning serious.

"I don't mean to have you both see me like this but...turns out my photo shoot isn't going as planned. I'm sorry I couldn't gather enough from your song, lady." He gives her a sad smile.

The composer clutches her folders to her chest, "That's not true, Jinguji-san. You always have an amazing sense of style. That's a fact."

"My lady..." Ren's eyes widen slightly in surprise.

"When I saw you look at the score the other day, you looked so focused." Nanami puts her folders on the makeup table and squeezes his arm resting on the chair, "I could see the ideas churning in your head. So I know you can do it!"

The idol smirks, then brings his lips to the hand on his arm for a quick kiss.

Nanami briefly feels her soul leave her body before recovering.

"Always so encouraging. Where would we be without you, lady?" He hums.

Nanami clears her throat at her sudden outburst and looks away, "A-Anyways, what are you having trouble with, Jinguji-san? Maybe Kurosaki-senpai and I could help." She looks over to Ranmaru stuffing his face with bananas over by the snack table. Or just me, she thinks with a helpless smile.

Ren leans back in his chair, "Well that's what we are trying to find out. It's the clothing that was picked out for me." He turns his head to the photographer looking through his pictures, "Excuse me, is it alright if I take a look at what we have so far?"

The photographer sighs and brings over the camera while still looking at the screen, "Go ahead. Good luck trying to find something." They hand Ren the camera and walk off elsewhere.

He tilts the screen so Nanami can see as he clicks through each photo.

She hums to herself while analyzing Ren's outfit, "I'm no fashion expert but…" she gently tugs the camera away from his grip, "Aren't there too many clothing articles?"

Ren raises an eyebrow, "Oh, how so?"

The composer peers closer, "I mean--you have two jackets here. One around your waist and one you are actually wearing. And there's a loose scarf…"

"Looks more like winter wear than the passionate look you're going for." Ranmaru says over Nanami's shoulder, causing her to jump a little.

He ignores her reaction and bites into a banana, "If you want passion, you could stand to show some skin, ya know." He grunts before walking off again.

Nanami taps her chin with her finger, "That could work…"

Skin… Ren snaps his head up, "That's it!! I got it!" He jumps up out of his chair and walks over to the photographer. He whispers something to them before their face lights up with inspiration.

"BRILLIANT!! Alright we have a lead! Jinguji, head to the dressing room. I need the makeup department on him, stat! This photo shoot can be saved yet!"

Nanami's face lights up at the good news, "What's the idea, Jinguji-san?"

He shrugs off his jackets and turns to her with a wink, "That you'll have to find out for yourself, lady. I'm going to embrace what Ran-chan said earlier about 'showing some skin.' Wish me luck!"

He gives her head a pat and walks to the dressing room. At that point, Ranmaru makes his way back over to Nanami.

"He get an idea?" He asks, taking a sip from his water bottle.

"Yes, apparently Jinguji is heeding your advice, Kurosaki-san." Nanami chirps happily.

Ranmaru nearly chokes on his drink, "*cough* *cough* Say what now?!" He sputters.

The composer gives the idol a confused look, "Is something wrong?"

"I dont know why, but I got a feeling he's going to do something extremely stupid." He shudders while wiping his mouth.

Nanami chuckles nervously, "I-Is that so…?"

*A week later*

Ren let's out a yawn as he makes his way over to the lounging area. The photo shoot continued without a hitch, and by now the CDs should already be out on the shelves. He honestly couldn't wait to see the others reactions to his album.

The first thing he notices is the usual gaggle of guys gathered tightly around the coffee table, talking feverishly amongst themselves. As Ren approaches, the shortest member of Starish hears him first and jumps up in a fury.

"Ren!! What the hell is THIS!?" Syo shouts in disbelief, poking a finger aggressively at the album.

Bingo, Ren says with a devilish smile, Just the reaction I was hoping for. He smiles innocently, "Whatever could you mean, Shorty?"

"Cut the crap!! You know what I'm talking about! This!!" Syo shoves the CD album in his face, his face as red as a tomato.

There he was, printed for all the lovely ladies to see, completely shirtless...and pantless.

"Well, as you can plainly see, THAT is a CD cover." Ren retorts with a playful smirk.

"Why you-!" Before Syo can blow a fuse, Otoya steps in.

"Now now, let's not get too overworked." He laughs nervously before doing a complete 180 on Ren. "Ren, you are clearly NAKED! What--Just wha--I can't…" He clutches the album in disbelief, unable to form proper sentences.

"Hey now, they made sure to cut out the more 'daring' parts. Even I have standards." Ren winks lightheartedly at the group.

"The whole CONCEPT is daring!" Tokiya blurts before covering the blush on his face.

"That's our Ren! Always going the extra mile. So cool!!" Natsuki exclaims with a beaming face.

Cecil looks down in disappointment, "Aww, we could have done stuff like that? No fair!"

"No! One Ren is enough for this group!!" Syo shouts in response.

The strawberry blonde can't stop grinning from ear to ear. He was SO enjoying this. Suddenly, a copy of the album hits him in the face. He topples backward and onto the floor, wincing at the stinging sensation erupting on his forehead. Ren looks up to see Masato on his feet, looking the most pissed of them all.

"THANK YOU, Hijirikawa!" Syo raises his hands up.

"M-Masa, that was a bit unnecessary…" Otoya says nervously.

Masato's face is still stoic, however he failed to hide the red tint on his ears. "You...I can't believe you!" He has the most trouble forming words.

"I know, it's SO shocking. Honestly Hijirikawa, I thought you knew me better." His roommate says sarcastically.

"Yeah but I didn't think you'd actually be crazy enough to DO it. You think I'M shocked, look at poor Nanami!" He gestures to the sofa behind the idols. Nanami lay curled up with her face buried in a pillow. One could almost imagine steam rising off the top of her head. "She's been like that for 15 minutes!"

Ren bashfully scratches the back of his head, "She DID say I had too many articles of clothing on my body."

Otoya and Syo sit down beside her and copy her position with their own pillows, "It's okay Nanami, we are just as shocked!!" Otoya whimpers while holding Syo in his arms.

"Guys, I think we are overreacting. Don't worry, Ren! I support you!" Natsuki places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Tokiya does the same, "I do too. I'm sorry. I was overcome with shock earlier."

Their fellow colleague sighs, "I'm glad to hear it. But I have a feeling you all won't be able to let this go so easily."

"Definitely not." Tokiya chides.

"It's blackmail material now." Syo mutters, looking up from the pillow.

"We won't ever let you live this down." Cecil smiles at Ren.

"We'll tease you about this until the day you die." Ittoki laughs evilly.

"Because we love you, though." Natsuki adds on.

Masato discreetly shakes his head and makes a face.

Ren laughs and walks over to Nanami, "You saved me again, lady. Don't ever forget it." He ruffles her hair.

Nanami curls up tighter, "I don't think I can, Jinguji-san." She mutters in the pillow.

*elsewhere*

"Whoo! That's our sexy kouhai! Show off that skin!" Reiji whoops as he watches a coverage of Ren's album on TV.

"The bastard went and did it!" Ranmaru cringes and buries his face in his hands,"I should have kept my damn mouth shut!"

Camus' stares distastefully at the screen while a pile of sugar forms in his tea cup and onto the table. He throws a glare Ranmaru's way, "Figures you would be the one to give him such immature ideas. Have you no shame?"

"Okay first off, fuck you! No one was talking to you, damn butler!" Ranmaru growls, not even turning to directly return fire at his colleague.

"I imagine the other members of Starish are quite shocked as well." Ai adds quietly, "Though I can imagine the ratings will rise 112% because of him."

"Ne ne! We should do a nude photo shoot with all four of us! It'll be super fun and sexy!" Reiji winks at them with excitement.

"No. Do it yourself." All three respond immediately.

"You're so mean!!!"

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soft-manga · 2 years ago

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kurosaki-san's single minded love

#kurosaki-san's single minded love #okada piko #manga #manga screen cap #manga panel #manga cap #monochrome

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shoujo-dump · 2 years ago

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Kurosaki-san no Ichizuna Ai ga Tomaranai

#Kurosaki-san no Ichizuna Ai ga Tomaranai #Kurosaki-san no Ichizu na Ai ga Tomaranai #Kurosaki-san's Single-minded Love is Unstoppable #黒崎さんの一途な愛が止まらない #Okada Pico #manga #shoujo #shoujo manga #shoujo romance #manga romance #romance manga #shoujo caps #shoujo cap #manga cap #manga caps

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jisatsual · 2 years ago

Photo

#mangacap #kurosaki san's single minded love is unstoppable #rom.#shoujo

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chaosgreymistchild · 6 years ago

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Unto the Soul, Unto the Flesh

My entry for the UraIchi Prompt Competition 2, I guess...

Ichigo slides his fingers across the skin of his chest, feeling the ridges and bumps where Aizen had nearly cleaved him in half, the circular scar where he had been speared through the chest (hisSoulSleephiscorethecentreofhissoulPROTECTPROTECTPROTECT) then the larger circle of lighter skin overlapping it. Softer skin. Newer skin. Skin that had been regenerated (alongwiththemajorityofhischesthishearthislungshehasahollowholeahollowholeohgodohgodPROTECTPROTECTPROTECT).

He moves onto other parts of his body. He runs his fingers over his hands and arms, the slight discolorations the only sign of the marks Senbonzakura had left on his body (heneedstorescuehersaveherherbrotherdoesnotdeserveherhewillbeherbigbrotherthenPROTECTPROTECTPROTECT). He runs his fingers over his face, his eyes, the countless thin, nearly invisible scars where people had aimed for his Hollow mask, his eyes, his brain (he’shalfmadandattackinganythingthatmoves[cutoffmyarmandlegisthisanywaytowin]heistheirownlyshieldPROTECTPROTECTPROTECT). He traces intricate swirls and tribal tattoos over his hips and spine, weaving his way around that near-constant ache of chipped spinal cord.

Ichigo takes his hands away.

His body is his canvas and his art, painted in muscle and carved by blood, but all there are there, are marks made by others.

Kisuke keeps his hat tipped dangerously low over his head nowadays to hide the scars on his face. It doesn’t help, it never helps, not when his hat wobbles dangerously whenever he so much as turns his head, and he must look up every time a customer comes in to greet them, exposing those thin, curséd lines, running like tears down his cheeks. Sometimes he wishes that he could have hidden away from the world, from Aizen. Wishes he had never tried to fix his mistakes and just run, far, far away from anything and everything (theHogyokuseeshearswatchesneverwishneverwantkeepsilentdonotspeak).

Kisuke leaves the shop counter early on the bad days, resolutely ignoring the way Tessai stares at him disapprovingly even as he says that he’s got something cooking in his lab, could he just mind the counter for him while he takes notes, thank you very much Tessai, such a gem, in a cheerful (alwayscheerfulnotallowedtobesadhavesorrowactivatetheHogyokuneverwishneverwantkeepsilentdonotspeak) voice.

He stares and stares at the walls in his lab blankly until night falls, and then the moon dies, and then sun rises on the new day again, not knowing what it is to want for anything anymore.

Ichigo refuses to go to the shouten anymore. Urahara is rarely there and on the single occasion he was, he had been so shattered and broken and hiding behind his mask, that Ichigo hadn’t the heart to keep going.

Kisuke wishes, sometimes, that Ichigo would come back, but he squashes that feeling immediately, buries it with a century of experience and instinct, and turns away.

Yoruichi kidnaps the two, throws them into a room, and guards the exits with watchful eyes.

The student may have surpassed the teacher, and her friend may know how to free himself regardless, but her boys know her well, and know not to attempt to escape.

She would not allow them to destroy themselves over an absence of faith.

Ichigo stumbles a little while speaking. “Did- did, you, Yoruichi—”

Kisuke refrains from nodding. “She did,” he says instead.

An awkward silence settles between them, a rift that had been created when they couldn’t see each other without pain.

A stubborn expression spreads across Ichigo’s face. Kisuke recognises it as the same grimly determined expression he had worn when battling Aizen and fighting against insurmountable odds.

With a deliberate slowness that Ichigo rarely exhibits, he reaches out to cradle Kisuke’s scarred cheeks, an action the other allows with a flinch. “Kisuke,” he says to the older man, scarred and broken and wrapped in splintered, jagged edges designed to draw blood, yet yearning all the same, “Urahara Kisuke, you made me who I am today, trained me, marked me with a Hollow’s power, and carved with blood into my flesh. You are my maker, do not think of hiding away from me now.”

Ichigo watches as Kisuke trembles beneath his hands, shaking for reasons he cannot fathom.

Kisuke wants to rip his student’s hand from his face, wants to hide away from them, wants to unleash his confusion and fear and crushing guilt as a wave of crimson energy ready and willing to rip and tear through his student’s body and sliCE THE OTHER INTO THE TINIEST PIECES—

A pulse of killing intent, near drowning the wave of fear that rode under that current, flashes through his reiatsu before he can hold it in.

Ichigo flinches back, gripping onto Kisuke all the harder so that his hands never leave the scientist’s scars.

Kisuke gasps and jerks, as if to free himself, but then he is clinging onto Ichigo’s wrists just as hard as he rides out the waves of supressed wants and needs.

Then Ichigo is kissing him, hard and fierce, as wild and untamed as his reiatsu. Kisuke knows that he really shouldn’t be being poetic, but that’s his first instinct when his mind feels like it’s being poured out of his head like sand from a broken hourglass, and he’s shifting through the remnant grains for brief, bright flashes of thought. He kisses back, tentative and yearning, caught in the younger man’s gravity.

A tongue licks into his mouth, and oh Soul King, that was everything he’d longed for and more. He could taste the tea Tessai liked serving, and hands grabbed his wrists, and since when had he let go and closed his eyes?

“You okay with this?” Ichigo mumbles breathlessly against his lips.

He responds with a nibbling at Ichigo’s bottom lip that makes a whimper pass those brilliant lips.

“Gods, Kisuke,” a strangled gasp.

Wood thuds under his shoulders — the table. A brief flash of cold air, before Ichigo’s bare body covers him again. He can feel every inch of skin, every raised scar. He kisses those scars, fervently, like a worship. “Want you,” he mouths against the remnants of Ichigo’s near-bisection, “Love you,” he murmurs against the marks the Hollow hole had left behind.

A hitching breath, a hiccup in the body above him. “Love you,” Ichigo murmurs back, kisses pressed into his hair, “Love you, so, so much,” and Ichigo’s bringing his face up, and kissing his scars. “Beautiful, gorgeous, brilliant,” Ichigo murmurs, kissing worship into his skin.

A thigh brushes against him.

Kisuke swears that the sun might have exploded. He lets out a strangled groan and struggles to remember how to breathe.

Ichigo smiles down at him, unusually smug and radiant.

Then he lets go of the tight control he has over his reiatsu.

Ichigo’s pupils blow wide and his hips jerk up. Kisuke groans at the friction.

A torrent of reiatsu floods the room, Ichigo’s lust hitting him like a freight train and then all he sees are stars and light.

In short order, these things happen:

Ichigo draws on his skin. At first, they are names of loves, both platonic and romantic, then swirls and stripes like those of his Hollow form, and then tribal patterns that wind their way up his arms and down his back and sliding up his neck and creeping up onto his face (“Heyo, King,” a voice whispers in the night). It isn’t long until he learns to draw the lines of his intimately, achingly familiar Hollow-mask on his face, freehand and without a mirror.

Kisuke begins to show his face to strangers and friends alike, baring to the world his trust in his student (not his guilt, never his guilt, not again), the relief of his burden.

Kisuke keeps two rooms empty and made-up for whenever the three Kurosaki siblings need to get away from their father. It doesn’t take long for Ichigo to move into Kisuke’s room. It takes barely a day later before the youngest generation of the Kurosaki family to move into the Urahara Shouten altogether.

Kurosaki Isshin bursts into the candy store screaming and wailing about his son’s virtue and how his family has abandoned him. Underneath all the dramatics and tears enough to drown a small puppy in (“Urahara-san! Ichi-nii said that drowning puppies is mean!”) there is a very real pain and sense of betrayal. Kisuke doesn’t allow that to sway him. Isshin had had his chance, and all he’d ever done was drive away his children.

A very smug black cat was frequently sighted around the neighbourhood.

That smugness soon turned to yowling anger as the Urahara Shouten closed its doors to meddlers.

(Yuzu soon rescued the “poor thing”, so Ichigo and Kisuke were saved Yoruichi’s revenge. Well, up to a point, anyways)

Kurosaki Ichigo and Kurosaki Kisuke lived long fulfilling lives, until Ichigo died for the last time, and the whole family began the slow move into Soul Society.

Even to this day, some say that in the town of Karakura if you pray to the right spirits on the right day for the right reasons— there might be a green-and-white fan waiting for you on your doorstep.

(Ichigo never could let go of Karakura, and his drive had always been to protect his people)

#uraichi prompt challenge 2 #bleach #urahara kisuke #ichigo kurosaki

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akaluan · 6 years ago

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Baku!Erich Part 4

((Last of what I currently have written. Might get some more done this weekend.

Also, it’s really fun to write Alexis like this, she’s such a sassy creature I love her to death.))

They begin that night.

Erich devours the boy’s first nightmare and Alexis pulls free a fragment of the hoshi no tama, no bigger than a grain of rice. She holds it out to him, perched on a claw, and Erich breaks off a fragment of his Self to wrap around the divine gift.

A baku’s protective nature, to guard the boy from unintentional harm.

He breathes out the power gained from the boy’s first nightmare, tucking it close around the gift and letting none escape. The end result looks almost like another hoshi no tama, gleaming in the moonlight with a single, bright star in its heart.

It’s beautiful, and Erich can’t help but feel /hope/.

He plucks the new orb from Alexis’ paw and presses it gently to the boy’s forehead. It sinks in like rain on parched earth, gone before Erich even has a chance to let go.

The boy’s face scrunches up in reaction and he grumbles in his sleep, head turning away and arms pulling his blankets closer. They wait, watching him for any sign of distress, but only another nightmare comes.

::How long, do you think?:: Alexis asks while plucking the newborn nightmare free.

Erich considers the hoshi no tama, then presses it gently to the hollow of Alexis’ throat. ::Two months, perhaps?::

Two months is a long time. Already they’ve spent nearly a month guarding the teens’ sleep. Already they’ve spent more time in one place, /together/, than at any other moment in their lives.

Already they are growing attached to these humans, like they once did with the soldiers who called them into being.

::Two months to heal his soul, but how many months to sooth their dreams?:: she wonders, staring down at the sleeping boy.

That is a question he has no answer for, and they both know it. Whatever these teens have been through, they were thrown into it without preparation or regard for their wellbeing. The price they now pay is cruel and relentless, and Erich is uncertain how long it will take for them to recover.

::We should get moving,:: he offers instead. He pulls the next nightmare from the boy’s mind before it can settle, then leans in and breathes out his fragment of protection. ::Remember to keep track of the hours.::

Alexis nods and leaps through the window, orienting towards another of the teens.

But she doesn’t leave.

/They/ don’t leave.

Because the man that’s been stalking them is standing in midair, eyes shadowed by his hat and cane held in a deceptively loose grip. His expression is flat and cold and unyielding, like some of the most war-hardened soldiers Erich ever knew.

Silence stretches as they each wait for the other side to cave first. It seems to last forever, straining Erich’s patience and making Alexis go still in preparation to strike.

(They have charges to care for. Charges that they are ignoring in favor of a useless standoff with a dangerous man.)

(But they are two and he is one, and Erich and Alexis have never been shy about carving their way through problems.)

He and Alexis share a look. The man’s stance shifts.

::I told you he could see us,:: Erich says, breaking the standoff with an irreverent comment. It throws the man, albeit briefly, and snaps the rising tension nicely.

Alexis harrumphs at him, put upon and annoyed, and gives the man a ‘can you believe my companion?’ look that further throws him off balance. ::You /guessed/ he could see us. It was a fifty-fifty chance, congratulations on guessing correctly.::

::My guesses are—::

::Exactly as reliable as a coin flip,:: Alexis interrupts with a huff, ::just like everyone else’s.::

“As entertaining as this is,” the man cuts in, a hint of humor hiding amongst the steel, “I would like to ask what it is you two have just done to that boy, baku-san, baku-san.”

::Begun to heal him,:: Erich answers.

The man’s expression hardens. “I was unaware that baku were skilled in healing soul-wounds.”

::We aren’t, but why should we be limited to only our skills?:: Alexis asks. She tips her head and bares her teeth, ears laid back against her skull. ::Inari Ōkami was more than happy to lend her aid to our cause.::

The man grows still. Fragments of emotion creep into his aura, faint and muddy and barely enough for Erich to sense, but still /there/. Still enough to prove that he cares, that he worries. “And you think whatever this is will help?”

::We know it will.:: Erich says with confidence.

The man grimaces and tugs at the brim of his hat, gaze drifting away from them to land on the boy’s window. “Fine. But if you cause him harm, if this ‘solution’ of yours only makes him worse—”

::You have been trying, haven’t you,:: Alexis interrupts. She stalks forward and rears up on her hind legs, leaning in to peer closely at the man. ::That’s why you’ve been stalking us, because you were wondering if we were doing something you could capitalize on.::

“Yes,” he admits readily enough, undaunted by the way Alexis is practically looming over him. “Everything I could devise… all my theories fell apart when I tried to bring them to fruition. The human soul is an intricate affair, and the damage to his is immense. When I saw what you were doing to his soul, attempting to staunch the wound, I… wondered.”

Erich grimaces and shakes his head. ::That is no more than a stopgap. The soul can heal, but his is too damaged to do so on its own. He needs outside assistance, and that is what Inari Ōkami has provided.::

“I had suspected, but…” the man sighs and steps back from Alexis, shoulders slumping with exhaustion. “My best theory was to provide an infusion of a large quantity of reiatsu all at once, but I can’t produce that much alone. Not quickly enough to help…”

::It wouldn’t do him any favors,:: Alexis says, dropping back to all fours and giving the man a sad look. ::His soul might heal from it, but the myōbu told us that /he/ must heal himself, else a fragility will be introduced to his soul. We cannot force healing upon him.::

The man frowns at them. “Isn’t that what you’re doing, though? You’ve not approached him, not asked him for his agreement—”

::But whether or not he heals is up to him,:: Erich says. ::We are giving him the strength and the template. How he makes use of that… that is up to his subconscious will.::

“How soon will you know?”

Erich trades a look with Alexis, then shakes his head. He hadn’t even considered asking. ::We don’t know.::

::Perhaps a week?:: Alexis offers. At Erich’s curious look, she lifts a paw and mimes a shrug. ::With the sort of healing he’s doing, and the time you estimated, a week seems about right for the first signs.::

The man sighs and fidgets with his cane, gaze flickering between them and the boy’s window once again. “Alright,” he finally agrees. “Alright. One week. And if there’s no sign, or if he becomes /worse/, I will not hesitate to chase you off.”

Erich blinks at the threat, one ear swiveling back in confusion. From the man’s aura and the way he so effortlessly pretended Alexis didn’t exist despite her best efforts, ‘chase them off’ seems… laughably light. He expected to need to fight the man— /still/ expects it, honestly— and instead he’s being threatened with… being run off?

Some of his confusion must be clear to the man, because he coughs awkwardly and rubs at the back of his head. “You… I’ve been watching you. And… you /are/ helping them. More than I’ve been able to. I also know very well what it’s like to try and try and still make everything worse.”

::The boy will be fine,:: Alexis does her best to reassure. ::He will heal and be whole once more.::

::He will be changed, however,:: Erich warns, deciding that the man should be made aware of the consequences of their actions. ::He is being healed by a divine gift born of Inari Ōkami and strengthened by her myōbu. A human cannot be touched by so much kami and yokai power without being influenced by it.::

“But he’ll live,” the man says. He squares his shoulders when Erich and Alexis both nod in agreement. “Then so be it. Kurosaki-kun is an adaptable young man, he’ll manage.”

Erich is not entirely certain it will be so easy, but the less conflict the better. And, in all likelihood, the man will help Kurosaki to adapt.

::If that is all, we have our duties to perform,:: Alexis says, gaze turning away from the man and towards one of the other teens. ::Remember, you gave us a week.::

“I remem— woah!” The man straightens sharply as Alexis bolts past him, close enough to touch. He casts an exasperated look at Erich and says, “I thought your companion would stop doing that once they knew I could see you both.”

Erich lifts a paw and mimes a shrug. He’d expected exactly what she’d done, honestly. ::Now that she knows you can see her, she’ll probably begin to see how far she can push you.:: He laughs at the man’s blank, disbelieving gaze. ::There are not many who can see us, so you’re interesting. Along with how well you pretended you /couldn’t/…::

“Oh dear…”

::You’ll be fine. Just try not to die of a heart attack,:: Erich advises dryly. ::That would make you boring.::

“Well… I wouldn’t want to be that,” the man responds faintly, clearly uncertain how to take Erich’s words.

Erich laughs and rises to his feet, stalking past the man on his way towards another of the teens. ::No, you certainly wouldn’t.:: And with those entirely unreassuring words, he bounds off to continue his duty, leaving the man sputtering in protest behind him.

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cheshiresense · 6 years ago

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Yet Another Time Travel AU ft. Ichigo With Fractured Memories + TBTP!Kisuke Falling In Love One Cryptic Hint At A Time [Headcanons 2]

[Headcanons 1]

By the time Kisuke makes it back to his division compound and has dismissed his Shinigami, another day and night has passed, it is way too early in the morning to be up, and Kisuke is in no mood to do anything except maybe get some answers and then hopefully get some sleep.

So of course – when Kisuke reaches his office – no one is there waiting for him, because life just can’t give him a break. He will never admit to the spike of panic that twists in his gut even while his mind rushes off in a dozen different directions, trying to figure out what’s happened. Have they been caught? Is Ichigo already standing before Central 46 or even locked up in the Maggots’ Nest or the Senzaikyū? But no, Kisuke can’t believe that. The boy has enough skill to come and go from a secure compound anytime he pleases; he would be even more careful when he has those two kids on the line. Shiba compound then? But he’d be hard-pressed to hide people for any length of time right in the heart of clan territory, and if he meant for Kaien to know, surely he would’ve lured his cousin and Clan Head out to District 64 instead of Kisuke. The girl was hurt but Kisuke doubts Ichigo would’ve taken her to the Fourth. Too many paper trails, too unique a case, too many gossiping mouths, all who work for a government that wouldn’t bat an eye before tossing all three into the Nest. So, what’s left?

It really only takes another moment after that. Impossible, he thinks, because unlike his squad compound, his private labs are far more secure, under the lock and key of his own personally designed seals. But even as he thinks it, he’s already flash-stepping away in that direction, and when he arrives and finds the door ajar and the light switched on inside, he also thinks he should probably be a little more concerned than he actually is that Kurosaki Ichigo seems to have raised breaking-and-entering into an art form that even Kisuke would be hard-pressed to match.

He spares a moment to run a diagnostic scan on his seals, and he’s only mildly surprised to find almost every single ward neatly unravelled, not a single seal out of place, ready to be locked up again when the occupants depart. Only the blood ward is truly broken, shattered with a brute strength that Kisuke makes a note of for later. Blood wards are no good if someone with enough reiatsu can simply tear right through them. He’ll have to find either a way to fix that weakness or create a different ward entirely to compensate for it.

There’s also the little fact that Ichigo is apparently enough of a genius and somehow also knows Kisuke’s sealing style well enough to unlock all his other wards on the spot, but that’s a much harder problem to solve, and it gives him a headache when he thinks about it, so he puts it out of mind for now.

He steps inside and almost rolls his eyes when he finds that the little brats have broken into his instant ramen stash in the cupboards of his kitchenette. At least they washed the bowls before tossing them into the garbage. Rangiku and the white-haired boy – Kisuke should probably ask for a name soon – are fast asleep on the couch in the corner, but Ichigo is still awake, lying flat on his back on the floor for some reason and staring almost unblinkingly up at the ceiling.

Kisuke shuts the door behind him, shrugs out of his haori, and makes his way over to sit next to the boy. He waits for Ichigo to notice him, and he’s rewarded when brown eyes slide from the ceiling to his face, half-lidded and dazed.

“Your face is weird,” is the first thing Ichigo tells him, and Kisuke actually quirks a wry smile.

“You’re not the first to tell me that,” Kisuke says agreeably. He goes still when Ichigo reaches for him, stopping just shy of his left cheekbone, an inch below his eye.

“It’s weird,” Ichigo continues like he didn’t hear Kisuke at all. “I thought it looked weird when you first got them, and now I think it looks weird without them.” His fingers feather down the length of Kisuke’s cheek, so lightly that Kisuke barely feels the touch. He still tenses a little, unused to both contact and proximity, and yet he can’t seem to pull away.

“First got what?” Kisuke asks quietly and gets a slow blink in return.

“Your scars,” Ichigo says like it should be obvious. “They weren’t ugly or anything, just a little weird when I first saw you again afterwards. But you lost your eyes so she had to stitch them back together.” Kisuke feels a chill go down his spine. Ichigo’s hand falls away even as he smiles hazily up at Kisuke. “Try not to lose them again, okay? I mean you turned out fine, and that’s what matters, but it must’ve hurt, and some people made Frankenstein jokes behind your back later so I had to pick a lot of fights, cuz one, it’s Frankenstein’s monster, not Frankenstein, but also two,” His features twist into something fierce and protective and Kisuke forgets to breathe for a moment. “Nobody’s allowed to talk shit about you.”

He stops after that, for which Kisuke is grateful. He has to remind himself to breathe, even as the sheer impossibility of every word coming out of Ichigo’s mouth rings loud in his ears. Where is he even supposed to start? Benihime. Ichigo has to be talking about Benihime. But nobody except the few people who saw his Captain Proficiency Test and Yoruichi and Tessai know about his Bankai, and even then, only Yoruichi and Tessai know any of its abilities, and neither of them would talk about it to anyone else. And then there’s the mention of his eyes. His scars. Scars he doesn’t have. Scars he’s never had. He doesn’t understand.

Outwardly, once he regains some semblance of mental balance, he only offers a weak smile and a joke, “Defending my honour?” But even that turns out to be a mistake because he gets a brilliant grin in return, a little cheeky but warm in a way that almost makes Kisuke flinch. Ichigo looks infinitely more alive like this, more so than Kisuke’s ever seen him, and his answer is steady and sure and terrifyingly honest, “Always.”

There’s not much else to say on the topic after that. Kisuke doesn’t know how to react with anything except the overwhelming desire to run away, but he can’t do that, so he doesn’t react at all. And Ichigo doesn’t seem to expect anything from him because the bright awareness in his eyes fade away, and even now, bewilderingly enough, something in Kisuke mourns the loss. Ichigo rolls to his feet instead and makes his way over to the civilian kids still sleeping on the couch, and the awkward moment passes, much to Kisuke’s relief.

(He doesn’t forget though. But at least this way he can focus on something else for a while.)

The white-haired boy – Gin – proves to be exactly as much of a brat Kisuke thought he was, hovering and glaring as Kisuke pokes and prods at Rangiku to make sure she won’t keel over anytime soon. Her reiryoku still seems to oscillate at random times, but not as much and not as wildly. Now that he actually has the time and equipment on hand, the readings he gets of her reminds him a little of what happens when a Hollow devours a soul and leaves behind the body, except those three Shinigami couldn’t quite replicate that and instead only tore out part of the girl’s soul. It’s probably fortunate Ichigo happened upon them when he did; there’s no telling if the girl would’ve ever recovered, and even if she did, the loss of part of her soul probably would’ve damaged her permanently to the point where she would never have regained her original levels of reiryoku. Certainly, if she ever attempted to become a Shinigami, Shikai would’ve been difficult for her to achieve. Bankai, probably impossible.

As it is, the soul is a resilient thing, and with all the parts still there, if a bit… ragged, it’ll heal itself with some time. Kisuke is far more interested in who wanted it in the first place, how they’re doing it, and most importantly, what they want it for at all.

“So,” Kisuke asks once Gin and Rangiku have been packed off to Kisuke’s spare bedroom for a few more hours of sleep while he and Ichigo convene around one of Kisuke’s computers as he organizes all the latest data he’s gathered for his newest project. “You mentioned a wishing stone. And a boss. Would you like to clarify either of those points for me?”

Ichigo hums something tuneless under his breath. His legs swing a little from where they’re dangling over the edge of the desk, and his attention meanders around the room, following something only he could see.

“Kurosaki-san,” Kisuke prompts insistently, because at this point, he deserves to know. He’s been patient enough, hasn’t he? “You gave me your word.”

Ichigo’s brow knits into a frown, and his shoulders hunch as if he’s bracing himself against a blow, but he also finally mumbles, “Wishing stone. You make a wish and it grants you your heart’s desire, but you didn’t know at first cuz all you wanted was to figure out what would happen if the barrier between Shinigami and Hollow was broken down.” Kisuke freezes, and his mind jumps to the (highly illegal) project he only recently started. “He knew from the beginning though,” Ichigo continues in a rush. “But his wasn’t complete for a long long time. Or maybe a short time? How long is long for Shinigami? He failed though, no matter how many souls he fed it. You were smarter, even if you didn’t know what you really made. He needed to use yours instead. But it took him years and years before he could steal yours, years and years of feeding souls to his-”

His almost feverish rambling breaks off with a muffled cough. Kisuke glances up sharply, and then he’s on his feet in an instant when he spots the fresh blood trickling from Ichigo’s nose and the way he’s pressing the palm of one hand to his temple, eyes scrunched in pain.

“Kurosaki-san!” Kisuke scrambles for something clean amongst the clutter on his desk and finally comes up with a hand towel. Ichigo blinks dizzily at him, swaying a little, but he lets Kisuke dab at his nosebleed, and he doesn’t resist when Kisuke – after a moment of hesitation – scoops him up and deposits him over on the couch instead where he at least has something to lean against.

“I did not know you were-” Kisuke pauses and then amends, “Are you sick?” Because he thinks of all the things he’s heard even just in the short time he’s known Ichigo, all the things Ichigo shouldn’t know but does anyway, and has offered to Kisuke in bits and pieces, hints and riddles and bald-faced truths so outrageous Kisuke should be shipping him to the Nest or at least the Fourth, not indulging him, not wanting to know more, and certainly not believing him. And an illness would explain it, wouldn’t it? A sickness in the head or whatever this is. But no, that doesn’t account for everything, and yet Kisuke’s mind still rebels a little at the niggling suspicion that’s starting to creep into his thoughts.

Ichigo only smiles wanly at him, gone pale in a way that makes the bags under his eyes stand out, and Kisuke ends up biting back all the other questions still pushing against his teeth. Maybe captaincy’s made him soft. He really should be interrogating Ichigo some more, or honestly, interrogating him period, not asking and coaxing and nudging for answers that mostly just give him even more questions in the end. But he’s pushed already, a little bit, and this – somehow – this was the result, and it makes him… leery of pushing too hard again.

(He’s broken people before. He doesn’t think he wants to see what Ichigo looks like broken. Or maybe more broken would be more accurate, considering Ichigo’s state of mind most of the time.)

So he sighs instead and rises to his feet to fix them both some tea. At least Ichigo’s told him a little more, however confusing the information was. Kisuke is looking into dissolving the barrier between a Shinigami and a Hollow - he wants to know what would happen – but… a wishing stone? Capable of granting any wish? Kisuke doesn’t even know where to begin to make that happen. Either way though, according to Ichigo, someone has already made what Kisuke will make, only an… incomplete version perhaps, and so they’re looking to steal Kisuke’s own research. Or… will be stealing it, once he finishes? And somehow, Ichigo knows ahead of time. Somehow.

Kisuke doesn’t know why he believes the boy at all. Most people probably wouldn’t, even if he has been correct all the other times he’s brought something to Kisuke’s attention. But Kisuke’s never been the sort of man to disbelieve something just because it seems impossible or isn’t logical or lacks hard proof. For all that he values scientific research and analytical study and rational thought, he’s always considered impossibilities to merely be the limits of a mind that can grow no further. Impossible, only until someone makes it possible.

He returns to Ichigo’s side and eases the cup of tea into the boy’s hands. He has questions, so many questions, but… he supposes they can wait.

For the time being, Kisuke shuffles Gin and Rangiku into a storage-room-hastily-turned-bedroom above a small but decently skilled tailoring shop and… persuades the owner to hire them on in exchange for room and board and a bit of pocket change on the side. Gin starts running deliveries while Rangiku helps out with the requests for repairs and alterations that come in fairly frequently, although neither child accepts their new lot in life until Ichigo swings by again and gives them a vague okay.

How rude. It’s like they don’t trust Kisuke at all.

“It’s the captain’s haori,” Ichigo tells him sagely. “And Shinigami uniform. They don’t trust any Shinigami right now.” And alright, Kisuke supposes that’s fair.

They talk about enrolling the kids into the Academy, but Kisuke isn’t sure whether Rangiku was the target or just randomly chosen, but if it was the former, then whoever was behind the attempted soul-theft might still be looking for her, and considering that person had Shinigami at his command – and high-ranking Shinigami at that – Kisuke is pretty confident that the new enemy he’s made – will make? – is also a Shinigami, and a strong one too.

(He meets up with the other captains for drinks a few more times in the following months, mostly whenever Shinji invites him. Before, he didn’t much care what they thought of him, and he never took much notice of them beyond noting down the faces of who he shares a rank with these days and absently memorizing random embarrassing secrets they let slip when they’re too drunk to keep their mouths shut. Now he watches them like they’re potential targets, keeps an eye out for anyone who might be watching him a little too closely in return, and he’s very careful not to get even slightly tipsy in front of them anymore. Even Shinji’s friendliness – previously slightly uncomfortable but also a bit of a relief to know that Kisuke hasn’t alienated all his colleagues right off the bat without even trying – has taken on a more suspicious undertone to his paranoia. Those Shinigami Ichigo killed were Fifth Division after all. Only Yoruichi is exempt.)

Besides, Rangiku isn’t fully recovered yet, so for now, keeping them close and away from excess attention is for the best.

“Not yet,” Ichigo agrees in one of his more lucid moments, with Gin and Rangiku there under the guise of delivering Kisuke’s newly mended spare training shirts. “He probably won’t figure out what really happened but he did know your squad was nearby taking care of some Hollows, and if two new students appear in the Academy right after, he might investigate.”

“And who is this ‘he’?” Gin asks, pale blue eyes intent on Ichigo’s face. He huffs when Ichigo only repeats, “Not yet,” but he also sighs even before Rangiku shoots him a quelling look and goes back to threading a needle for her. Rangiku takes it once he’s done and fusses over the frayed cuff of Ichigo’s sleeve for the next twenty minutes.

“I thought nobles were s’posed ta be rich,” Gin remarks. “Doesn’t your clan give ya new clothes?”

Ichigo shrugs. “Yeah.” And doesn’t say anything else.

Gin hums noncommittally and shares one of his dried persimmons with him. Kisuke almost rolls his eyes when the boy pointedly makes no move to offer him the same.

Kisuke pulls out his project on Shinigami and Hollows and their respective souls. He knows – kind of – that someone will be coming after the finished product, and he reasons that he might as well use it as a trap, and in the meantime, he’ll be able to learn a lot more about all three subjects too. And maybe a part of him also likes the idea of succeeding in creating something so powerful, when another has already failed.

He spends two and a half weeks in a spiralling research binge because he doesn’t have Yoruichi to drag him back out anymore, and he loses time and forgets everything else because that’s just how he is when he buries himself too deeply into his research. He does doze off now and then, but only for minutes at a time, his mind continuing its work on a problem or equation the second he wakes again. He eats too, but only what he has in his lab, when his stomach provides a loud enough reminder which isn’t often, and his snacks aren’t anything healthy anyway, nor do they last for long.

Two and a half weeks, and then Ichigo comes and digs him out of his labs. By the time the boy slams down a tray crammed full of very strongly flavoured tea and a full dinner spread right on top of his notes, Kisuke is light-headed with hunger and lack of sleep and he actually has to take a full minute to blink the blur of words out of his eyes before finally registering the food in front of him.

“You need to eat and sleep,” Ichigo tells him bluntly.

Kisuke has to remember how to move his tongue before he manages to mumble, “I want to finish this bit first…” He trails off, ready to dive back into one of the theories he’s been chasing down. Half a blink and a dizzying moment of vertigo later, Ichigo’s hauled him out of his chair and carried him over to the tiny living area. He doesn’t even have time to sit somewhat upright before the food is there too and tea is being shoved into his hands.

“You need to eat and sleep,” Ichigo repeats, and he doesn’t move and doesn’t let Kisuke move until he finishes at least two-thirds of the tray and is drooping sideways as bone-deep exhaustion finally catches up with him. He’s only dimly aware of being carted off to his bedroom where a futon is already laid out, even less aware of being tucked into bed like a child, and then he’s out like a light for the next forty-eight hours.

When he wakes again, he’s feeling far more rested and far more hungry. Luckily, there’s a bowl of rice and curry waiting for him on the counter, with a note on top that tells him to eat, shower, change, and then come up to his office for actual sunlight. Apparently, he also triggered a silent alarm seal the second he walked out of his room so Ichigo will know if he tries to return to his research. When Kisuke takes a peek into his lab, there are Kidou cages glowing everywhere, boxing up everything from stacks of notes he has almost no memory of writing to every last one of his computers. When he touches one of the barriers, an angry face with stick arms wielding two swords appears on the translucent surface and bobs up and down in warning. It startles a huff of laughter out of Kisuke but also makes him terribly curious about how Ichigo managed to create something like this. He doesn’t think even Tessai knows, but then again, Tessai’s not exactly one to experiment with new Kidou seals for something so… trivial.

Kisuke’s pretty sure he can break the barriers, but he has no doubt Ichigo will be as good as his word, so instead, he eats, showers, changes, and then heads upstairs. He’s surprised Ichigo isn’t waiting for him in his office. He is surprised to find Hiyori parked right outside the door, paperwork spread across the floor, and looking fit to murder the moment her eyes land on him.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!” She roars, leaping to her feet, and for someone so small, Kisuke still marvels at her lung capacity. “I’VE HAD TO DO TWICE AS MUCH WORK CUZ YOU HAVEN’T BEEN AROUND! MISSIONS ARE BACKED UP BECAUSE THEY DON’T HAVE YOUR STUPID SIGNATURE ON THE FILES AND THE NINTH’S BEEN HOUNDING US BECAUSE WE HAVEN’T BEEN GETTING THE PAPERWORK IN ON TIME AND NOBODY’S BEEN HAPPY CUZ PAYCHECKS WERE SUPPOSED TO GO OUT LAST WEEK AND THEY DIDN’T! YOU’RE A CAPTAIN NOW, YOU CAN’T JUST SKIP OUT TO DO YOUR OWN THING AND ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME, YOU ASSHOLE??!!!”

Kisuke is, sort of. He listens to his lieutenant’s complaints with half an ear as he sweeps into his office and eyes his desk with no little dismay upon finding it half buried under unfinished paperwork. He opens the windows to let in some air and get rid of the musty smell, and his gaze flicks for just a fraction of a second to the mostly hidden camera fly nesting in the leaves of the tree outside. When he turns back, Hiyori is muttering resentfully, “-and if you were gonna send someone to help out anyway, why didn’t you do it earlier?”

Kisuke pauses for only a moment between shuffling aside some folders before offering an oblivious smile. “I forgot.”

One of these days, Hiyori’s probably going to burst a blood vessel working for him.

“I hate you.” She hisses, eyes spitting fire. “I hate you so much. Why are you even a captain?”

Most days, Kisuke would like to know that too.

“And how has my replacement been doing?” He asks instead a he goes back to trying to make some sense of everything on his desk, blithely ignoring the way Hiyori’s hands are clenching like she wants to strangle him. “It doesn’t look like-” He takes an educated guess. “-Shiba-san has done any of my paperwork.”

Hiyori looks positively scornful. “There’s no point when they need your signature, and there’s stuff in there that the captain actually needs to know. Besides, Shiba didn’t wanna do them anyway, and I can’t blame him. He helped me do last month’s budgeting though, and made sure everyone was paid with an added bonus on top, and he led some of the new officers through a couple training sessions.” She makes a face. “It’s weird as hell – he’s shorter than all of ’em and he can still kick their asses. I don’t think he’s even a Shinigami. How’d you get the Shiba Clan to loan one of theirs out to you anyway?” She shakes her head before he can answer. “Never mind, I don’t care. He kicked that creep Kurotsuchi in the head when he tried to experiment on Akon-” Kisuke glances up briefly at that, keeping his face blank, but Hiyori isn’t really paying attention anyway. “-and he packed Akon off to the Academy when he asked the chibi-creep if he wanted to go and the chibi-creep said yes. Also, anybody he caught slacking off while on gate duty is now on rebuilding-the-left-wing-of-the-barracks duty. You know,” She shoots him a dirty look. “The wing where the pipes burst and half the second floor caved in two weeks ago but we couldn’t get a squad from the Fourth to fix it because you weren’t around to sign off on it.”

Kisuke raises his eyebrows. “And everybody followed his orders?”

Hiyori snorts. “They do if they know what’s good for ’em. For a shrimp,” Which is rich, coming from her. “He’s strong. Anybody who isn’t helping to keep this squad running gets a special one-on-one spar with Shiba. And the smackdown ain’t pretty, ’specially since he does it in public.” She looks wistful for a moment, but she and Kisuke both know she isn’t strong enough to enforce the same kind of order the same way as Ichigo. “Anyway,” She glares hard at him. “Do your damn work and don’t fuckin’ disappear like that again or I swear I’ll set fire to your precious research department and burn it to the damn ground!”

And with that said, she turns on her heel and storms back out, slamming the door behind her. Kisuke can hear her still cussing up a storm as she presumably gathers up her paperwork to return to her own office now that she’s finally managed to catch him for a… conversation.

Kisuke sits down and looks at his paperwork for a long moment. Then he glances up as the tree outside his window goes up in flames.

“Drastic,” He remarks mildly, and a second later, Ichigo is there, swinging in through the window with all the careless nonchalance of a stray cat. Kisuke sighs, makes a hand seal, and douses the tree with a jet of water that leaves the tree dripping but at least camera-free.

“I suppose I should thank you,” Kisuke muses as Ichigo flops onto his couch. He gets a shrug in return.

“Don’t have to,” Ichigo mutters. He even sounds tired, as if the bruises under his eyes aren’t telling enough. “I cover for you, you cover for me. That’s what we do.”

“Is it?” Kisuke murmurs, because that’s news to him.

Ichigo doesn’t answer directly, instead dropping his head back over the armrest to stare at Kisuke upside-down. “Sometimes, I can’t come by as often.” He says matter-of-factly, as if he should be coming by at all. “So I didn’t know you were stuck in your research again or I would’ve dragged you out sooner. You have to set an alarm or something to remind you when I’m not there to do it.”

Kisuke should probably feel offended. He’s far too old for anyone to be riding herd on him. On the other hand, well. He did forget to eat and sleep and juggle all his other duties for two and a half weeks. Ichigo may have a point.

He also gets points for not nagging once he’s said his piece. Instead, he lies flat on the couch again and informs the ceiling, “Akon’s at the Academy. I think it would be better this time if he actually has a Zanpakutou. He’s smart; he might even graduate early. Keep an eye on him, he doesn’t have anyone else.” He pauses, eyes darting around the room. “And… And Kurotsuchi. You already know, I think, but he’d stab you in the back at the first opportunity so watch out for him too, in a totally different way. And… And…” His head jerks like he’s shaking off cobwebs. Kisuke tenses a little, instinctively searching for any signs of blood. There’s none this time, but Ichigo presses a hand to his eyes like the light hurts them.

“I don’t know,” He says at last, frustration twining around each word even as he pushes himself upright and twists around to stare at Kisuke, eyes wide and dark and distant. “I want to say you shouldn’t make it. But if it happens again, you’ll need it to save them. But I’m here now so I should be able to stop it from happening but I don’t know if I can and making it in the first place is-” He breaks off and shakes his head again. “You’re still this-you, not that-you, and I don’t- I don’t want to change you cuz this-you made you into that-you, and that-you was amazing but some of the things you did-” He stops and takes a shuddering breath while Kisuke twitches a little at the implication that this boy in front of him…

But when Ichigo looks at him, there is no disgust or pity or hatred, only a terrible sadness that puts lines in his face and makes Kisuke drop his own eyes for a moment, unable to hold Ichigo’s knowing gaze.

“So I won’t say, either way,” Ichigo rasps out in the end when Kisuke finally manages to look at him again. “It’s up to you. I’ll work around it, whatever you choose.” He’s frowning a little but he also offers a shaky smile. “I cover for you and you cover for me. That’s still the same now.”

“…Is it,” Kisuke sighs this time before rising to his feet and making his way over to Ichigo, who blinks up at him, so very trusting in the face of a former assassin with more blood on his hands than half the Gotei (there is no such thing as a former assassin – once a killer, always a killer). Kisuke sighs again and sheds his haori before nudging the boy into a more comfortable position and tossing the coat over him as a makeshift blanket.

“Get some sleep,” He orders, returning to his seat. “I don’t think I am the only one who forgets.”

He doesn’t get a response as he uncaps his inkbottle and grabs a brush and cracks open the first file needing his attention, but when he glances up a few minutes later, Ichigo is sound asleep, curled up under the haori.

Kisuke doesn’t wake him until the sun begins to set.

[TBC]

#bleach #uraichi #urahara kisuke #kurosaki ichigo #matsumoto rangiku #ichimaru gin #sarugaki hiyori #myscrap #headcanon #ugh this is getting so long #do these even count as headcanons #how did this happen #also #is it just me or does it seem like kisuke and ichi adopted two kids in this #fractured memories verse

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