#but terrible for me feeling cold unless sat in direct sunlight

[dreamingpartone]

a simple remedy to keep the chill away: Noya's laughter

#azumane asahi #nishinoya yuu #asanoya #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fanart #doodles and miscellania #the orange overalls are back babyyy >:) #the cool autumn weather has set in here which is excellent for fashion #but terrible for me feeling cold unless sat in direct sunlight #i mean it's not cold for most of the world but it IS cold for my delicate humid-subtropical bones #*

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Soulmate September

Series Summary- a collection of one shots exploring different ships and au concepts. The list I created and am following can be found here.

Day One: Sparks Fly

Summary: Virgil goes deeper into the forest than he’s ventured before in the hopes of gathering more food. He finds more than he bargained for when a fairy claiming to be the prince of the forest begins to follow him.

Warnings: food mention. If there’s more please let me know!

Ships: Prinxiety (Virgil x Roman)

Prompt: Feel a spark when you touch your soulmate

WC: 3959

AO3

Tugging his long, dark cloak impatiently away from a jagged branch, Virgil skid down the steep embankment swearing the entire way. He didn’t often venture this far into the woods but he was getting just desperate enough to find gatherable ingredients he had decided to risk it. Honestly as long as he kept his eyes straight ahead and avoided the beckoning twinkles of light between the trees he should be fine. Thankfully this time of year the river was reduced to a large creek at best, making crossing to the other side where he was certain to find berries and mushrooms aplenty quite easy. It was only a matter of keeping his balance on the slimy rocks that normally made up the river bed, a skill he had mastered before he had even been entrusted as a gatherer.

Hiking his pants up to just below his knees he carefully adjusted his pack to be more balanced and draped the bottom of his cloak over his arm for good measure. The last thing he needed was to be scolded for dripping mud all over the floors again when he returned to the kitchens. Absentmindedly rubbing the stinging memory from the back of his head he hopped to the first rock, breath hissing between his teeth as the cold water rushed over his heated skin. With another breath he was perched on the second rock and then the third, toes gripping the moss in a mostly unneeded measure for stability. Wiggling a bit so his pack would recenter he eyed his next target, muscles tensing in preparation for the bigger leap.

“What are you doing?”

Squawking in alarm, Virgil tipped back dangerously, arms pinwheeling as his feet lost their purchase and let him fall backwards into the creek. Taking a brief moment to thank the gods he hadn’t landed on a rock he sat up quickly, sputtering as water ran down his face and soaked his shirt more than it already was. His cloak dragged behind him as he tried to get up, aiding only in him slipping back again with an unceremonial splash.

“Oh my dear I didn’t mean to frighten you!” There was more mirth than malice in the voice but that didn’t stop Virgil from flinching away from the strange hand that reached towards him. It retreated as he shoved sopping hair from his eyes and squinted against the sun to try and see what idiot made it a habit to scare people when they were jumping on wet stones. His breath caught when a face finally came into focus, sunlight forming a halo around the most beautiful person Virgil had ever seen.

His brightness was almost blinding, with shining red curls looking like spun gold in the light. Sharp features complemented kind brown eyes and tanned skin flecked with earth. Like Virgil he was barefoot, but instead of wearing sturdy pants and shirt to protect himself from the woods, autumn-red pants flowed just below his knees with an equally flowy white shirt tucked into them and unbuttoned to the chest. Despite the darkness of his skin he seemed to radiate his own gentle light that somehow made the sun look dull by comparison, making Virgil idly wonder if this was what seeing a god was like.

“Prince actually, but you do know how to inflate the ego.” The man chuckled.

Face burning with the realization that he had not only said that outloud but he had also been sitting in the water gaping like a stunned fish for entirely too long. Mumbling low curses under his breath he once again struggled to his feet while waving away the other’s outstretched hand impatiently. A fairy prince coming to pester someone with zero assets or connections- the fae were worse pranksters than they had the reputation for. Sighing, he decided to wade the rest of the way through the creek since he was already soaked, leaving the stranger behind in hopes he would stay there.

“So you never did answer.” No such luck apparently. “You do realize what part of the forest you’re in right?”

Virgil gritted his teeth. “I don’t wish to consort with your kind fae. I’ll only be in here for a little while.”

“My kind?” Virgil winced as he detected insult in his tone. “My kind are the reason your kind feel safe enough to traipse wherever you please regardless of obvious territorial lines!”

Virgil glanced at him quickly as he began scrambling up the incline of the bank. “Territorial lines?”

The man drew himself up proudly, keeping pace with Virgil as he effortlessly stepped his way up the embankment rather than crawling. “This part of the forest is mine, a long way from the edge of the river by your route. I could turn you into dandelion fluff for trespassing here.”

Virgil raised an unimpressed brow as he searched around for his next handhold. “Mhm, I’m sure you could.”

Smirking as the other man stomped his foot impatiently he made it up and over to the other side, slinging his pack around to see how damaged the things he had already gathered were from his earlier fall. Shoulders sinking as he surveyed the smashed contents he shot a glare at the stranger, who was currently standing on tiptoes with his arms crossed trying to see inside the bag.

“Humans used to grovel at our feet, what happened to that? Also is it custom to smash ingredients well before they’re cooked? I’m not caught up with the latest human affairs. Terribly dull, most of them.”

Gritting his teeth Virgil dumped the berries and mushrooms he had collected onto the forest floor, water that had seeped in from the top sloshing out as well and coming out like a weird, thick juice for all the mush everything had turned into. “They only smashed because I fell- something I never do unless someone decides it's a good idea to startle someone who’s trying to balance.”

The man looked unimpressed. “Why were you coming over this way anyway? There should be plenty of the things you were collecting on the other side of the river...and much closer to the nearest village too might I add.”

“Fall makes the pickings slimmer the closer to the village you are. Other people gather, animals eat what ‘s left, sparcer trees means more sun means things ripen and fall faster. I was trying my luck further in.”

“And you came alone?”

“None of your business.” Virgil hauled up the pack and stood. “I’m a tracker so I’m the one that usually gets sent out.”

“Oh really? Must be an expert to come out this late.”

“Sure.” Grunting, Virgil stepped over a rotting log and began pushing his way through bushes.

The man snorted. “Expert tracker- when I could hear you tromping through here from across the forest.” 

“Your words not mine. And stop following me, I’m only here to gather ingredients.”

They continued on in silence for a while, the fae following behind him near silently as he kept an eye out for anything edible. The crops had been plentiful this year but berries, nuts and mushrooms weren’t something locally grown, so gatherers routinely went into the forest to search for them to dry for the winter. Fast protein was always welcome in the harsher months when tracking fresh meat became a dangerous chore.

The forest was quiet here, nearly serene if it wasn’t for the fae still following him no matter how harsh a path he took- not that he was having much luck finding easier ones. He imagined he could easily get lost here if he wasn’t careful so he kept an eye on the direction of the shadows and any landmarks he spotted so he couldn’t get turned around. Fair folk were rarely hostile towards travelers as long as you met them on their level and stated your intentions clearly. Most of the time a certain level of sass while only answering them when they were curious served Virgil just fine. Of course, they didn’t normally follow him either but he remained unconcerned so long as the forest didn’t turn hostile. He didn’t think he’d succeeded in pissing the other off that much...hopefully.

It was some time later when Virgil found his cloak snared on a branch as he was struggling to get over a particularly high log. Crawling under it hadn’t been an option so now he was stuck straddling the thing awkwardly with the cloak snagging in one direction and his pants in the other. Blowing out a frustrated breath he startled as the fae appeared a foot from his face, brown eyes searching his green ones as he struggled not to fall backwards for a second time.

“What are you tracking anyway?”

“What?” 

“You’re a tracker, so what are you tracking?”

Virgil resumed trying to lift himself enough to get his other leg over without ripping his pants. “Nothing at the moment. Not that, again, it’s any of your business.”

The fae glanced at the dirt under his nails and hummed thoughtfully. “Mushrooms is it?”

Groaning, Virgil sat back down and instead reached behind him to try and tug his cloak free. “Partly.”

Trying and failing to get his cloak untangled he stumbled as his feet found solid ground after dangling for the better part of ten minutes, nearly overbalancing for the third time that day as the fabric went limp in his stranglehold. Looking up he saw the spot on the river bank he had climbed over not ten minutes before with a significantly lighter pack. Confused, he slung it around and peeked inside only to see it nearly overflowing with varieties of mushrooms he had never seen mixed with the more common ones he had found before. Opening his mouth to speak he quickly shut it as a light breeze carried faint laughter through the trees.

“Feel free to thank me later.” A faint voice called.

Looking down again, he carefully closed the pack and looked up at the sky. It was barely encroaching late afternoon...would anyone believe he had gathered these that quickly? Deciding to just say he had gotten turned around and found a good spot if anyone asked he started hiking his way back as slowly as he could. He’d have to find something to offer as thanks when he came back.

-----

“You’re back.”

Virgil shuffled around a low shrub between the trees awkwardly. “Mhm.”

“Do you need more mushrooms?” The fae crouched on a low branch, balancing on his tip toes as he watched Virgil struggle through the underbrush. 

“They asked me to come back- ow!” Stumbling away from the bush he knelt down to tear away some thorns sticking out of his pants. “Since I was so successful yesterday they asked me to come back to find more. Among other things.”

“They?”

“People from the kitchens.” He started off in a slightly different direction, seeing sunlight a little ways away and hoping for a clearing.

“What else do you need?”

“A variety of things to dry for the winter. Nothing to concern yourself with. I won’t invade your forest for too long.”

“A shame. My forest is beautiful but I’ve found I enjoy looking at you more.”

Virgil stopped in his tracks as he tried to process the comment. Was this a trick? Some weird fae flirting technique to get his guard down so he gave away his soul? Which reminded him-

“Not because of that comment, but for helping me the other day.” He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a smooth skipping stone, the surface a perfect, uniform pale gray. He knew fairies rarely had use for human materials but things like this could be enchanted or used for entertainment- the more pleasing to the eye the better. “Here. And...thank you.”

The man’s eyes lit up at the sight of the stone, taking it carefully and running his fingers gently over the smooth surface. “For me?”

“Don’t expect it again, I don’t expect anything more from you.” Hoping that would settle it, Virgil continued on in the direction of the clearing. Fae were always tricky to get involved with and with the fall harvests approaching, continuing to speak with one claiming to be a prince wasn’t something he would allow himself to get involved with- at most for the sake of the village and at the very least for his own sanity.

“A pity really.” The fae called from behind him. “I could help you find whatever you need.”

Gritting his teeth, Virgil resisted. “I don’t need any help.”

“Right, expert tracker and all that.” He startled as his pest of a companion appeared in front of him waving a hand dismissively. “This is my forest and I can bend it however it suits me at the moment. Right now it suits me to help you, why won’t you let me?”

“I don’t want to owe you anything. Owing things is a risky business- especially with fae. No offense.”

The fae sniffed indignantly, putting a hand  dramatically over his heart. “No offense indeed! I suppose this wound was here before you arrived, it’s fine really.”

Virgil glanced over as the other man draped a hand over his eyes and leaned back slightly, sighing loud and deliberate and trying to disguise the fact he was peeking at his human companion from under his arm. Virgil couldn’t help it- he barked out a laugh he managed to quickly catch with a hand slapped over his mouth. Watching as a wide grin took over the fae’s features he realized he was too late and the damage had been done. He stalked over and jabbed the air in front of Virgil with a perfectly manicured finger. 

“You like my company!”

Blinking, Virgil lowered his hand. “Absolutely not!”

“You do! You find me amusing! Dare I say charming!”

Snorting, Virgil readjusted his pack. “Uh-huh. Nothing like a raving lunatic spouting he’s royalty to get the giggle juice flowing.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I believe fae will say anything to strike whatever emotion they want in a human. Whether it be fear or awe, the end goal is always to lead someone astray.”

Glancing over he startled when he saw the other man actually looked a bit hurt at his words, head down and eyes flicking to the side with a tight draw to the lips. A trick...obviously. But one that had him reconsidering his choice of words.

“Look I-”

The fae held up a hand. “It’s okay! I’ll prove it to you! You need mushrooms and berries and the like right?”

“Uh- yeah?” Virgil watched as the fae stepped forward and furrowed his brow in concentration. Bringing his arms up towards the clearing he swung his arms out and up before slouching tiredly. 

Virgil squinted against the sunlight shining overhead, looking around in wonder. They were in a large clearing absolutely teeming with enough plantlife to fill his pack ten times over. Dappled shade dominated at least half of the clearing as the sun shone through the bright trees at an angle. Soft grass soothed his aching feet that had previously been treading on nothing but snapping sticks and long-dead leaves. It was beautiful- and  glancing over at his companion as bright gold shot through his hair and the sudden calming warmth relaxed him- Virgil could tell he was in his element. 

“Did you just use magic in front of me?” He honestly hadn’t thought the fae would go that far to prove a point.

“Watch regular fair folk top that for ability.” the fae mumbled under his breath. Speaking up, he flashed a bright smile and punched a hand lightly onto his hip. “Of course! Got the point across didn’t it? Never seen a fairy bend a forest before?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen a fairy perform any magic before. Usually they keep that to themselves. Honestly none of the good neighbors have paid me any mind before whether I was in their territory or not.”

“Oh.” The fae sputtered uselessly for a moment, fluttering his head to his hair to fidget with the curls. “Well, clearly that’s their loss. Berries, was it?”

Face burning, Virgil nodded mutely and made his way over to a far tree that looked like it promised chestnuts in the higher branches. He never figured having company, however forced upon him it was, would be so nice. 

Later, when Virgil’s pack was practically bursting at the seams, he reluctantly turned towards home. The afternoon had been wonderful, gathering enough to make the people in the village happy while listening to the other man as he sang almost like he didn’t realize he was doing it. Rich, low tones filled the clearing with a bright melody that Virgil didn't recognize but found himself humming along to- much to his companions utter delight. 

It had surprised him when he began singing popular festival songs after that, thinking that fair folk never bothered much with humans and therefore wouldn’t know many traditional tunes. But when Virgil had started softly singing along, offering a wry grin when the other man had started excitedly bouncing on his toes from having a singing partner he couldn’t bring himself to care. Eventually both of them had started getting louder and louder, swaying along to an invisible beat as they had continued collecting what was needed. Another reason Virgil was reluctant to return to the village for fear their noise had reached ears he’d rather not explain himself to. He found it strange that he felt drawn to stay, stranger still that he didn’t immediately think it was some trick on his companions' part. He just- enjoyed his company and wished he could come into the forest to actually visit rather than just his job. Pressing his lips together he turned around, smiling faintly and gesturing to his back.

“You really didn’t have to help, or keep helping. But thank you again-”

“Roman!” The fairy blurted at his slight pause.

Smirking, Virgil cocked his head to one side. “Aren’t I supposed to give you my name first?”

Roman shuffled slightly. “Yes well, seems a shame that if you were to think of me you’d have no name to give the thoughts.”

“Bold of you to assume I think of you after leaving the woods.”

“How could you not?” Striking a bold pose he sniffed indignantly. “It’d be an insult really, wounding me so deeply.”

Chuckling Virgil turned and started walking away. “I’ll be sure to bring bandages next time.”

“It’s a date, Doom and Gloom!”

“That a promise, Sir Sing-a-lot?”

“If my serenades are what brings you back I shall renounce my princehood and become a siren.”

“Your voice is certainly deadly enough, leads to something prettier though.” 

The forest was silent for a moment, before Virgil began walking as quickly as possible without stabbing his feet to the edge of the woods. Why had he said that? Did he mean that? Of course he meant it but why on the gods green earth had he said it? Could he even come back now? Chest tight with nervous anxiety and head swimming he didn't look back as he dashed out of the trees.

Though if he had he would have seen Roman standing stock still, face a mask of shock but slowly splitting into a flustered smile below rapidly reddening cheeks.

-----

When Virgil stepped into the creek the following day, it was without his pack. Early evening sunlight drifted through the trees as a slight breeze ruffled the cloak around his shoulders. Pushing his dark hair away from his eyes he surveyed the banks for any sign of Roman, deflating a bit when he saw none. It was stupid to think he could get away with saying something so forthright without reaping anything but negative consequences. It was just as well he supposed, consorting with fair folk never led to anything good after all. He had just- hoped this would be different.

Fair folk and humans rarely mixed well, platonic or not, and once he found his soulmate he was doubtful they would enjoy the thought of fraternizing so casually with one of the good neighbors- especially one as powerful as Roman appeared to be. If he knew anything of the fae it was that one didn't just casually bend an entire forest to their will with so little effort by themselves. Sighing, he turned to leave, feet missing the wispy grass of the clearing as they crunched through dead leaves.

“Going so soon?” Whirling around he was met with a charming smile, Roman balancing on a rock in the middle of the creek with a hip thrust out cockily.

“I thought- I didn’t think you’d come back around.”

“If you were trying to get me to leave, your methods are wanting my friend.” Roman squinted at him curiously. “No pack today?”

Virgil shuffled a bit before answering. “I- just wanted to see you.”

Blinking in surprise, Roman smiled warmly. “What an honor it is that our wants should align. Care to join me?”

Face burning, Virgil was quick to hop to the first rock, finding his balance easily. Keeping his head down he stepped from rock to slippery rock, finally getting close to where he assumed Roman would be. Looking up however, he didn’t expect to be quite as close as he had gotten, vision suddenly filled with deep brown eyes surrounded by flaming red curls. Yelping he tipped backwards, arms reaching forward in a desperate attempt to not repeat their first meeting even as he prepared to go home soaking once again.

To his surprise, the riverbed never rose to meet him, instead finding himself surrounded by the scent of wildflowers and moss in the most comforting embrace he’d ever been in. Virgil tilted his face up when he heard Roman gasp in wonder, his own eyes widening in disbelief as he leaned back to take in their surroundings. Colorful sparks seemed to catch the evening sunset as they bounced off and around them, falling like stars imbued with the colors of the sky and sizzling as they hit the water only to be immediately replaced by ten more. 

Leaning back but still catching each other’s arms they watched as the sparks continued to fly around them in a frenzied shower, dimming the already fading sun itself in their wake. Virgil watched as the light caught itself in Roman’s eyes, flecking the brown with golds and brilliant reds and deep purples. Seeing his face literally light up in amazement and wonder, Virgil couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle, then tilting his head back and laughing out loud.

“What- why are you laughing?” Receiving no answer, Roman grinned uncertainly. “Do I have something on my face?”

Shaking his head, Virgil stifled another bout of laughter to answer. “I’ve never seen the sparks of soulmates before. Are they supposed to be this dramatic or is it just because of you?”

Smile turning more genuine and laughing himself, Roman let go of his arms and instead wrapped his arms around his waist and lifted, twirling them around with a sure step even as the water splashed around his feet. Setting him down gently, he rested his forehead against Virgil and held him as close as he could. 

“Maybe both- knowing me, probably more of the latter. Do you really mind?”

The sparks were dying down as the sky darkened and yet to Virgil his companion still stood bright enough that he feared nothing the darkness could threaten him with. Leaning impossibly closer he touched Roman’s nose to his  own and smiled softly.

“Absolutely not.”

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#false writes #sanders sides #soulmate september #ts soulmate september #prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #fae roman sanders #fairy prince roman sanders #tw food mention #my writing

[dennou-translations]

Violet Evergarden: Booklet 9

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A certain man picked up a wild beast.

It was beautiful to an uncanny extent. Catastrophically foolish. Laughably ignorant and violent.

However, it was also an extremely rare kind of beast, which had attachment for people and obeyed them.

Its fur was golden. Its eyes were a limpid blue.

The beast did not know how to let out a cry, but if trained, it could probably sell for a high price.

Such was the beast that the man had picked.

The man and the beast’s encounter was a result of misfortune, as a great number of people had fallen victim to the beast’s fangs.

The beast followed the man’s back around all the time.

It was a terrifying beast, which devoured humans. He had to hurry and dispose of it somewhere.

Still, the man thought, it would probably be useful in a battlefield.

The man’s occupation was national defense. His status was of naval captain.

A ferocious beast was suitable as a guard dog, and no one would be troubled if the lonely beast lost its life somewhere.

For the man, the beast was not a desired companion, but whatever could be used should be used.

Had he not thrown it away when he was supposed to, the future would have changed drastically.

   Violet Evergarden If

   “Shirt – not that; the shirt.”

The soft light of dawn shone over Leiden, the capital of Leidenschaftlich. It was a fine season, in which petals of bougainvillea flowers danced about. A beautiful morning. The appearance of the city was divine as sunshine flowed down from the rifts between the clouds, like ladders for the angels. A daylight that caused people to embrace a little bit of hope toward the day called today and the long period called life – that caused such thoughts to appear – was illuminating the city.

On this wonderful day, inside the dormitory of a facility built in the vicinities of Leidenschaftlich’s Ministry of the Navy, a man had fallen into an overcast mood, in contrast with the scenery outside. Although he had woken up a mere few minutes ago, he was irritated. He was not looking at the sunlight coming from the window. Neither did he have any interest in the dancing of the gentle shadows created by the fluttering curtains.

The only thing he had his eyes on was his beast.

“It’s the shirt. You’re not doing that on purpose, are you?”

The man belonged to a privileged class. One could tell that his furnished, private room had been renovated so that its user could live in maximum comfort. Something of the sort was not permitted unless the person was from a social position fitting of it.

He hated the idea of having his own house. He also avoided returning to his home and to a smaller component of his nation, his family.

“‘Shirt’.”

“The shirt. Shirt.”

“‘Shirt’.”

“No, that’s a cufflink. Listen up; I’m gonna say it one more time.”

As he spoke, his voice was low, charming and sullen. His hair, like ink in the color of nightly darkness with a thread of blue mixed in, was long and resembled silk. His deeply carved and delicate facial features would surely be showered with attention from women if he went on a walk in the city. One could tell the fineness of his upbringing with a single glance from his noble beauty.

The man who bore such looks, Dietfried Bougainvillea, was fed up with the girl in front of him, who could not do as much as bring him a shirt. From her appearance, said girl, unshapely clad in the female officer uniform of Leidenschaftlich’s navy, was so young that she had not yet reached her mid-teens. He could be considered much too immature for making an angry face at such a child.

Dietfried grasped her tiny hand, of a size so different from his own, and made her hold onto a white shirt. “Shirt,” he said while glaring at her, as if to give her a lesson. His lips also moved slowly, so that she would understand the pronunciation.

The girl being glared at alternated between looking at the shirt she was made to grab and at her master, who was naked from the waist up. Her big eyes opened even wider as she was attempting to learn something.

Dietfried wanted to start yelling at her immediately, but somehow managed to remain in his current state, accepting her silence and that she took her time.

Eventually, the girl nodded. “‘Shirt’...”

Dietfried exhaled. He let out a breath mixed with both relief and disappointment.

“That’s right; it’s a shirt that I want.”

“This is a shirt.”

“What will you do with that shirt?”

“Captain, it is a shirt.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Just hand it over after you say that. You’re really one handful of a mongrel.”

“A shirt.”

“Enough.”

“Captain, a shirt.”

“Enough already!”

What he was doing was teaching. The girl, who could not even properly say that word, had never had any education. She was an orphan that Dietfried had taken in due to certain circumstances and did not know how to speak very well. Most likely, she was being used by someone else before Dietfried had picked her.

She was definitely a wild beast rather than a person. All she could do was murder people as per her master’s order. She was a bestial girl who was unable to do anything but that. Dietfried had the girl live in one of Leidenschaftlich’s warships, immediately putting her into action for combat should there be any battles at sea, using her as a soldier.

The reason why he was scoring exceptionally good military achievements was that he kept her by his side. As she had the appearance of an infant, she easily incited negligence. She had already displayed her power a number of times by approaching enemy warships on a boat, causing a disturbance by the moment that she was mistaken for a victim and allowed onboard, then taking advantage of it to start a naval attack. It was an inhumane work for a little girl to do.

Dietfried was aware of that. Yet he had made her do it. She had done it countless times.

He had thought she would soon die, but whenever he went to check on the bodies, she was usually the lone survivor. No matter how much he attempted to kill her, to have her killed, she did not die. Instead, she would crush the enemy ships.

“Leidenschaftlich’s Undine” was what the navy soldiers called her now.

If he could not kill her, he had no choice but make her useful. Dietfried despised this girl, who had slaughtered his underlings when they first met, but that time had now passed and was opening up anew. Making use of this girl’s life until she collapsed was also a way to mourn for those who were gone. That was how he thought it over. For that reason, in order to work her hard also as a servant, he was teaching her how to speak.

He had started doing it because of the fact that they had trouble communicating, but Dietfried did not have much talent as an educator. He had been able to climb up to the position of naval captain due to his personal achievements. He was skilled at leading and instructing people, but for lecturing a child like this one-on-one, he was terribly unfit.

“Next, the shoes. Put my shoes on for me.”

“Sho...”

“Here, look at the way my mouth moves.”

“I—am.”

“Shoes. C’mon, try saying it.”

“‘Sho-es’.”

“Say it five times. Shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes.”

“‘Shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes’.”

“All right. Now, put my shoes on me.”

“Captain, you mean ‘shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes’.”

Clearly unfit.

“Captain.”

“You trash.”

“‘Tra-sh’.”

“Hey, don’t say ‘trash’ to me.”

“What does ‘tra-sh’ mean?”

Dietfried felt like crawling onto the bed he was sitting on and lying down to sulk just like that. In fact, he did hang his head and roll onto it.

Anyone who knew him well would evaluate that, for someone like him, he was teaching her very patiently. As he was the kind of man who could do anything flawlessly by nature, his attitude towards those who could not was cold. Such a man was attempting to educate an orphan child who did not know how to talk. He was in a state where one could say that he was making an effort.

“Captain, it is morning.”

“I know... I ain’t sleeping. I’m lying face-down ‘cause I’m disappointed in you.”

“Do you have any orders for ‘You’?”

“Y’know, I do call you ‘You’, but that ain’t your name.”

“If not, ‘You’ will be on stand-by.”

Albeit good at catching on words such as “stand-by” or “order”, she was slow to absorb terms that were used in daily life. The discrepancy between the things she did and did not have interest in was evident in the results of her learning.

This wild beast of a girl actually did not need words.

Even so, Dietfried had decided to grant them to her. Going back on a decision was shameful to him. He believed that he should never do such a thing.

——I gotta at least make her evolve from wild animal to watchdog. Or else, both she and I will be in trouble.

Dietfried was striving. He was exerting himself extraordinarily.

“Enough; I’m gonna comb my hair now. Gimme the comb.”

It seemed she had properly memorized the word “comb”, as she immediately took it from the dresser that the room was already provided with and presented it to Dietfried. She observed him with her big, gemstone-like eyes as he sat up as if it were a pain and slowly began combing his lengthy hair. He smooth and deftly braided it with his long fingers, then tied it with a ribbon and it was over.

Dietfried hit the bed with a slap, directing the girl to sit next to him. “Do as I do. As long as you’re wearing that uniform, you’re my subordinate. You having a bad appearance is a problem for me.”

Accepting the comb, the girl began combing her hair as well. She was improving lately, but her hair was damaged for a while due to malnutrition, so the ends tended to entangle. When she tried to force the comb through, Dietfried apprehended her with a hand.

“This again... Stop; don’t treat your hair like that... Why do I gotta brush it every day? Today’s the day that you’re gonna get it cut,” Dietfried said while carefully unraveling the entangled hair tips in her stead.

The girl was stock-still. Dietfried did not realize that the facial expression on her profile was a little bit different from her usual deadpan.

“Captain.”

“What?”

“Should ‘you’ comb your hair as well?”

“Nah, ‘s fine. I get a bad feeling when you’re behind me.”

Whether she had understood or not, the girl closed her eyes as if holding back on something. “All right...”

   In order to both replenish and repair the warship, Dietfried went on land. The stay at the port was scheduled to last up to five days. During that period, the crew would be on vacation. Most of his subordinates were roaming the city of Leiden, but those who lived close to it took full advantage of their days off to go see their families in their hometowns.

Dietfried also finally had free time today. He had to take several days to submit all sorts of greetings and reports. He made a long memo in his head with a list of the things that he had to purchase. One way or another, he was able to make time at least to go shopping in peace.

“Hey, let’s go.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Dietfried generally took action while keeping her by his side. She would be all right standing in waiting somewhere, but thoughtlessly leaving a woman alone amongst men was a primary factor for incidents to occur.

It was not as if he were worried about the girl. The ones he worried about were the people who would find the tables turning against them for attempting to lay their hands on her. In times of war, Dietfried’s decision was to avoid losing human resources as much as possible. He had to supervise this girl in order to prevent her from reducing his number of underlings.

However, there was also a good side to it. The girl’s fighting power and crisis-sensing abilities were outstandingly excellent, which qualified her for escort missions. He used to always walk around with bodyguards and associates as his ranks went up, but now, just this girl was enough.

——It’s nice that I can let more people, even if just one more, rest up by sacrificing her.

Under the light of the sun, Dietfried thought this as he watched the girl eagerly move her legs to chase after his back with tapping footsteps.

“We’re done buying these kinds of luxury items... Now for the clothes... Hey, this way. Follow me.”

“Captain, you are well-acquainted with the city.”

“That’s right. I’m ‘well-acquainted with the city’,” Dietfried gave a reply on the same level to the girl, who sometimes used words in a strange manner.

Just as he told her, Leiden was his hometown. In normal circumstances, it would be all right for him to return home as well.

“Though I don’t know if I like this city or hate it.”

But as he did not do so, one could guess about his family situation.

“You know what the good of this city is, do you?”

“I do not—know the city—very well.”

“The beauty of the architecture and the spirit of the people change depending on the city. If you leave out your emotions, Leiden’s a stunning city.”

“I do not have emotions. That means it is a stunning city to me.”

“You’ve got it wrong.”

“This is difficult.”

“You can’t understand human reasoning ‘cause you’re not human.”

“I see.”

After saying something that would hurt a little girl, he checked on her facial expression, yet it was blank as ever.

“You.”

However, he did not miss that her voice had become slightly gloomier.

“Don’t you wanna run away from me?” he whispered oppressively, stopping in his tracks and looking down at her from above.

Framing her huge eyes, the girl’s golden lashes fluttered like butterflies. She seemed surprised.

“We aren’t at sea right now. Or inside the warship. If you run off somewhere, I won’t be able to catch up. For starters, I’d have no intention to go looking for you. So if you wanna do that, you can.”

If a third party happened to hear the question, it would sound almost as if he were testing the girl. In fact, he might have been. People did such things out of foolishness every once in a while.

Dietfried absolutely did not admit it, but as he took this beast into his personal care and raised her, he began to feel that he wanted something. In return for that, he did not give her a name. If it were someone else, they would surely put it into words and display their desire with ease, but Dietfried was different. This man was awfully complicated – deeply compassionate yet cruel.

“Captain Dietfried, what am I supposed to do—by running away—from you?”

Just like that girl, he was broken somewhere.

The question made no sense to her.

“I have no meaning. If you do not use me, that is.”

This girl had no feelings.

“There is no meaning to me unless I am being used. I am a tool. I exist to be used.”

She did not know love.

“I am a wild beast. Beasts nestle up to where their owners go.”

All she wanted was validation of her own existence. Money, honor, status or anything of the sort.

“I am sure that—I was made this way—ever since I was born.”

She needed none of it. They made no sense to her.

“And you—have been registered—as my master inside me.”

The girl before his eyes looked at him as if to say, “don’t forget that I’m a beast”.

“You bring me along and use me.”

It might be that their positions were inverted from the very beginning.

“Please do stand next to me, Captain.”

Perhaps Dietfried was the one being kept around as a proof of existence.

——It’d be great if I could kill her right now.

She was merely a lonely beast, who just yearned for a master. It did not have to be Dietfried. That was what he felt she had told him.

“I’m going back.”

Dietfried started walking. Towards a direction completely opposed to the set route. In large steps, his leather boots clicking, he strode as if to leave the girl behind.

“But you still—have not bought most of the items.”

“It’s fine; I’m going back.”

“All right.”

As expected, the girl was expressionless even as her master suddenly grew displeased and yelled at her. She was accustomed to being swayed around. Not just by the man in front of her, but by her own fate as well. She had flowed, letting herself go with the current, and was now here.

It was Dietfried alone who never became accustomed to the girl.

“Walk fast.”

There was no appropriate name for the relationship of the two.

“Yes, I shall not leave your side.”

——You scum.

Why did he have to be the only one manifesting his emotions? It would be great if he could make the girl’s face distort even if just a little. This feeling surfaced and disappeared within him. It was almost the way of thinking of a child whose mother would not give him any attention, but trapped as he was in his own emotions, Dietfried did not realize this.

“Captain.”

Disturbed by rage and confusion, Dietfried angrily yelled, “What?!” in response to the girl’s call.

“There is a suspicious person running toward us from behind us. Shall I suppress them?”

“Haah?”

As he turned around, just as the girl had said, there was indeed a strange individual running their way. He had a purse under his arm. They could hear the scream of a woman at the back. If one were to take a conclusion just from looking at the situation, he was most certainly a thief.

“Don’t kill; capture him.”

To the order whispered at her in a low tone, the girl replied with a clear voice, “Understood.”

Immediately, she dashed off.

“Outta the way!”

As the man harshly shouted such aggressive words while coming at the people around him, they would open way for him in fear. The only one who pushed through the opened path was the girl.

“Brat! Move! I’m gonna kill you!”

Seeing a girl clad in a military uniform heading towards him, the man took out a pocketknife as he ran. Running while swinging it around was dangerous to no bounds. No matter how much brute strength one had, they would still waver at such a head-on challenge.

“My name is not ‘Brat’.”

However, the girl did not falter. Right before the collision, the girl lowered her posture with a jerk and evaded the pocketknife’s assault first-thing. She then grabbed one of the man’s legs and hurled herself at him. As the strength that the man had applied to the direction of his move was forcefully stopped, he violently plunged face-first into the ground.

“It is ‘You’.”

The girl’s attack did not end there. She seized the back of the agonized man, and after lifting his body as if picking a cat by its collar, she punched his throat. On top of that, she twisted his arm, completely suppressing his movements.

“P-Ple—ase—let—”

“I cannot understand the contents of your speech.”

“L-Let—g-go—pl—ea—se—”

“I cannot understand the contents of your speech.”

There was a spine-freezing kind of fearsomeness to the girl, who heartlessly repeated the same response to the man that was most likely saying, “Let go”. There was as much beauty to her appearance as there was a spur of coldness in her.

“The lecture I gave you last time about human body vitals came in handy, huh.”

“Yes.”

Dietfried came walking in a relaxed manner, looking like his moody aspect from earlier had decreased by just a little bit.

“As you told me, Captain. Strikes to the throat are effective.”

“True. Remember the name of the spots that hurt when you hit it?”

“‘Vital parts’.”

“That’s right... In men’s case in particular, there’s Adam’s apple. Look at this.” Dietfried grabbed the hair of the pitiful robber and made him raise his face. He then pointed at the other’s Adam’s apple. “Listen up. This bulgy thing is Adam’s apple.”

“‘Adam’s maple’.”

“It’s ‘Adam’s apple’.”

The robber could do nothing but watch the exchange between the two oddballs in confusion. There was no way to describe them other than “bizarre”. It could also be said that they were crazy. After all, the duo was holding a lecture about vital parts using the body of a complete stranger.

“‘Adam’s apple’. Is it... Is it a vital?”

“Yeah. It gets difficult to talk when you strike here, so hit it when you want someone to keep quiet.”

“Understood, Captain. If I want someone to keep quiet, I shall hit them there.”

“Also, you were probably going for his feet ‘cause he has a knife, but when the guy’s used to fighting, you should drop the idea. You’d get kicked like that. You might be strong but you’re light.”

“Should I dodge to the side?”

“With your jumping abilities, you could’ve also fly-kicked him. He had his hands full with the pocketknife and the bag anyway. Most people wouldn’t think you’d fly-kick them, so it can work. Either that or start attacking after throwing the stuff you’re holding at him.”

The girl nodded as if to say, “I see”. “But Captain, I am not allowed to throw your belongings.”

“That’s right. If you’d done that, I would’ve given you a beating.”

Despite making a face that denoted she had not comprehended it, the girl nodded. Those who were used to obeying tended to gulp down the double standards of others.

“Anyhow, should we return the bag to the victim? Or should we report to the military police...”

Although Dietfried was dealing with the fuss in a brisk and business-like manner, his eyes took notice of someone squeezing through the crowd that had gathered around him.

“Please let me pass,” the voice of a man echoed straight throughout the area.

“Sorry; it’s dangerous here, so let us pass,” so did the sweet voice of another man.

“Excuse me; we heard that you have caught a fugitive criminal, and we have as well. Let’s bring them to the military police togeth...”

The men who had showed up lost their voices for a second. As did Dietfried.

“Gil...”

Hair the color of night and emerald eyes. There were parts of their physical appearance that were similar to one another, yet the air about them was overwhelmingly different. However, if the two stood next to each other, one could quickly tell what they were.

“Brother...”

The one standing there was Dietfried’s little brother, Gilbert Bougainvillea.

“Uwah, it’s the Captain.”

Together with a large red-haired man, he had a thief in his hold and they were dragging him away.

——Claudia Hodgins too... Sure ran into a noisy fellow.

The joy of meeting his younger sibling surfaced, yet once he pondered about how to explain the situation and how they would respond to it, his feelings soon leaned to the side of deeming it as a bother.

Gilbert displayed agitation for an instant at the sight of his older brother, but immediately switched his gaze over to understanding the state of the surroundings. When he saw that a girl was the one pinning down the assumed robber all by herself, the look in his eyes changed.

“Hodgins.”

“Aah, it’s okay. I can hold him on my own. You take care of that girl...”

Gilbert handed the man that they had under restraint over to the one named Hodgins, heading to the girl’s side and kneeling down with one knee. He then said, locking his gaze with hers, “Let’s switch; are you hurt?” Before earning her consent, Gilbert took the man’s restraining upon himself. “Any injuries?” he asked again as the girl did not answer.

The girl looked at Dietfried. “Captain is unharmed,” she reported her master’s condition, not thinking that she was being questioned about her own.

“No, I’m asking about you.”

The girl looked at Dietfried, then at Gilbert. She moved her neck left and right countless times, at loss. “Whether I am injured or not is not an issue. That question is inappropriate.”

As Dietfried heard this sentence, the area around his chest suddenly became heavy.

“What are you saying...? This is about your body. Your family would be sad if you were wounded, wouldn’t they?”

After all, he had not never asked her the question “Are you hurt?”.

“I do not have a ‘family’.”

Not even once until now.

Gilbert looked at Dietfried. Dietfried also looked at Gilbert. For a moment, the two brothers rejected what the other wanted to say with their eyes. An air that could be deemed as hazardous started drifting there.

Although Gilbert had been speaking to the girl in a soft tone until just a while ago, the warmth of his voice took a brusque nosedive, “Brother, we should contact the military police first of all.”

“Then, I will call them.”

“That’s fine; you stay here. Brother, you’re the most empty-handed of us. We can count on you, right?”

“I’m holding shopping bags.”

“Brother... I’ll get angry for real...”

Ultimately, Dietfried yielded, out of fear towards his little brother’s wrath. The two thieves were swiftly taken to the military police, and so the three men and one girl who had seized them left the scene as if fleeing from a turmoil.

   The course of events after that was, simply put, a spectacular sibling fight.

Gilbert was enraged at his older brother for making a little girl into a combatant and using her as a slave, while Dietfried desperately tried to refute him through the fact that she was not a “girl” to begin with. Stuck between them and unable to endure staying there any longer, Hodgins had attempted to take the girl away from the spot of their argument, yet she would not leave Dietfried’s side. In the end, they did not manage to keep the discussion together, parting ways with the decision to set up a proper place to talk on a later date.

While returning to the dormitory and even after arriving, Dietfried stayed quiet, not uttering a single word. It was already late into the night.

“Captain.”

Silence.

“What will you have for today’s dinner? I can take a seat in the cafeteria for you.”

“Don’t need it.”

“Understood.”

Dietfried’s irritation amplified even further with the fact that the girl, who was the point at issue, was conducting herself by operating in the same manner as usual.

“I don’t wanna look at your face. Go back to your room.”

“Understood.”

Once she left his bedroom, Dietfried had an abrupt realization. The girl would not go to the cafeteria unless he ordered. Since he had forgotten to tell her to do so, there was a possibility that she would not eat.

——I have to tell her.

However, a feeling surged within him, asking why he had to look after her to that extent. Whenever that girl was around, no matter what, he would end up restricting himself.

Rage welled up within Dietfried yet again as he recalled everything that Gilbert had told him.

“Brother, you’re a horrible person.”

——No, it’s not just me. She is, too.

“Don’t you feel sorry for that child?”

——You’re wrong; that’s not it. It’s not like that. You don’t get it.

“She’s still so little.”

——She’s a little murderer. An assassin who killed my comrades and kills my enemies.

Just which of them was the one in captivity?

——Who made a mess out of my life.

Wishing to become free, he had thrown everything away. Even if he were to receive criticism, he had run away from it all, not paying it any mind. That was Dietfried Bougainvillea.

——Even though I was free.

He had thrown away his home.

——Even though I was free.

He had thrown away his family.

——Even though I was free.

He had thrown away his brother.

——Even though I was free.

And then, he threw away even kindness, becoming a blade drawn out of its stealth and surviving in severity. He had been doing his best. Had been suffering.

Still, because of just one girl, everything was unstable now.

Dietfried moved his body with a sudden motion. He stood up from his bed and put on a coat. Opening the door of the room next to his, he made the girl dress up in as many layers as possible and took her outside.

Where were they going in the dead of night? The girl asked what their destination was, yet he did not answer. They walked, walked and walked, then hopped onto a carriage.

The carriage moved with clicks and clacks. The Moon could be seen chasing them all the while from the window.

Once they eventually reached a place much too far from the dormitory facilities, she could see a mansion that one would not call an ordinary home. One could assume that the surrounding plots of plentiful nature were also part of the estate, which was Dietfried’s former residence as well.

The mansion was property of the Bougainvillea family. This was a portion of it. The main house was located somewhere else.

The sky was already beginning to pale, about to welcome the break of dawn. Again, a beautiful morning was going to start in Leidenschaftlich.

They had been traveling for a whole night and his body was aching. His condition was at its worst due to lack of sleep. However, Dietfried let out a relieved breath as they reached the mansion at last. Currently enlisted in the army, Gilbert had told him that he was in Leiden for a temporary stop. If so, in order to avoid an earful from their mother, he should be staying in their villa.

Right now, Gilbert was in there. His little brother, who – unlike Dietfried – had the shape of everything that their parents deemed a person must have, was there.

“Listen up: go inside that house. And then call Gilbert.”

His respectable younger sibling, whose emotions were not overly warped, was there.

“Tell him I kicked you out. If you do that, he’ll treat you right. You gotta show him how tired you are. No matter what, be sure to ask him to make you into an army officer.”

That was a sparkle in Dietfried’s life of complete darkness.

“There’s no way that someone like you could manage living a normal life at this point. Serve the military, and then die.”

The fact that he existed and was a relative with whom Dietfried shared the same blood was, to the latter, hope.

“He’ll protect you for sure.”

He was hope. He was light.

“I...”

No matter how broken he was, Dietfried could believe that he had one normal something. This had always granted him courage.

“You...”

He was aware that he was doing wrong as a person.

“You and I can’t be together.”

He knew he was the kind of human being who could not change, regardless of being in the wrong. That was why he loved his virtuous younger brother as if it were a necessity. He loved him even now.

Gilbert would never betray Dietfried. After all, he also loved his older brother.

The girl’s usual expressionlessness slowly crumbled. She repeatedly opened and closed her mouth, attempting to say something. However, probably unable to find the right words, she looked at the Bougainvillea mansion and shook her head like a child throwing a tantrum in refusal.

“Go; just go.”

“I—do not—want to.”

“Don’t talk back. I don’t need you. Go be used by a different owner.”

“I—do not—want to... I do not want to...”

“I’m telling you I don’t need you! Hurry and go!”

The girl tried to grasp Dietfried’s arm. Yet Dietfried began walking away before she could do so. He just uncaringly headed to the carriage that was parked a little far from the residence’s front gate.

“Captain.”

The girl was coming after him. Her voice was loaded with feelings of desperation.

——What’s up with you?

“Captain, Captain—”

——Even though you usually have no emotions.

“Captain, I do not—want this! Captain! Please give me—an order!”

——Even though you only think of me as a tool to receive orders.

“Captain! Captain! I will—properly learn—how to read!”

——Could’ve been anyone, right? Even if it weren’t me, anyone should do for you.

“Plea—se! Captain—I do not—want this, Captain!”

——Even if it weren’t me, you would...

“Captain... Captain... I will—do anything, Captain... Captain...”

——Even if it weren’t me, you would’ve been okay with it. Isn’t that it?

Dietfried turned around to check if her voice had died down. The same old girl was not there. Her wild beast figure from their first encounter had disappeared as well.

“Please, do not leave me—on my own...”

The one standing there was the infant that Dietfried had taught how to speak.

Dietfried looked at the child in front of him as if he had grown senile. She was crying. That beast of a girl, who did not cry no matter how many wounds she earned, was weeping. And also appealing to him with the things that she could do.

“I can fight; I can also—carry your belongings; and—put your—shirt on—for you.”

She was desperately bringing up what she could do to prove her existence.

“My wounds—heal quickly as well; I can—kill your enemies too; I will do anything.”

How could she assert her being?

“Please let me... Captain...”

What could she do to stay by Dietfried Bougainvillea’s side? She was attempting to certify her existence. In reality, Dietfried had misjudged her.

The girl had properly ascertained who her lord was.

If it could have been anyone else, there were several people other than him. Yet he was the one she had chased after. The wild beast had instinctively sensed and pursued him.

She had followed him while embracing the wish that, if it was a human like him, an adult like him, then surely...

“I can—be used; I can become—an optimal tool.”

...he would not leave her.

Had he not bestowed her with words and used her as a mere tool, she would never have said such a thing. Dietfried had failed.

Combing her hair and patiently teaching her about daily lifestyle had done no good. Neither had the fact that he taught her what to do and how to fight whenever she encountered difficulties while by herself. None of it had done any good.

Even without Dietfried Bougainvillea himself realizing it...

“Please, let me be—by your side.”

...the wild beast was turning into a person.

The complete darkness of the night was gradually fading. From the direction of the Bougainvillea mansion, a servant and Gilbert – the master of the house – appeared, having come upon overhearing the angry yelling. They stared at the duo with surprise.

Dietfried slowly changed his course. He turned to the crying child. One step after another, he moved toward the girl.

“Do you need me?”

He then reached out his hands, holding her small body in his arms.

“Yes.”

With an awkwardness similar to holding an animal for the first time, he supported her from the back.

“Even if I say I don’t need you, do you need me?”

In doing that, the two looked like one.

“Yes; please, do not leave me alone.”

They looked like a single living being, formed through a combination of distorted shapes.

“I see.”

Dietfried felt that the dark things squirming inside his chest until now were clearing up. His feelings for her, which were close to hatred, dimmed away as well. Same for the anger towards himself and his inferiority complex regarding the rest of the world. Illuminated by the gentle sunlight, they all faded and disappeared, just like the deep dark colors of the night.

——I see; so I wanted something like this, Dietfried thought vacantly while embracing the child that clung to him.

He felt like he understood why he was always so irritated at this girl. Just as she wanted to prove herself, he also wanted others to accept him.

Socially, he was acknowledged. He also had subordinates who idolized him. However, Dietfried...

——I wanted this.

...wanted that wild beast to acknowledge. To acknowledge him.

The times when he truly thought that he wanted to kill her had passed. So had the times when he wanted to push her onto someone else. And the times in which he tried to use her solely as a tool until she collapsed, just like a slave, were passing as well. They were now morphing into wondering about what he could do to make her last, to have her live.

They were properly changing towards the direction of the light.

“Then, be by my side.”

That was why he wanted to acknowledge as well. No matter how distorted a shape they had.

The child and man then welcomed the first morning in which they acknowledged each other.

   Afterwards, a mansion was erected in the outskirts of Leidenschaftlich.

Built once the Continental War ended, after the cessation of hostilities was finally called on, said mansion was home to a somewhat eccentric family. A man and a girl. Far apart in age, the two of them did not seem to get along well, yet did not show any signs that they would separate from each other.

“Captain, it is morning.”

As threads of golden hair cascaded smoothly in front of him like canopy curtains, Dietfried rubbed his sticky eyelids and opened them. At first, what he could see were exquisite blue eyes and cherry-colored lips. This individual, already clad in a naval uniform, bore features that anyone would call beautiful.

Dietfried regretted unintentionally thinking that she was beautiful first-thing in the morning.

“Captain, it is morning,” her voice echoed softly in his ears.

“Shut up... I know.” He sat up, yawning.

The girl began forcefully undressing Dietfried, whose gestures looked a little childish no matter what he did, without the slightest sign of embarrassment. “You have a dinner meeting today after work. I will not take part in it, but I have arranged a carriage for your return, so please give your name when you go to the assembly hall of the dinner meeting.”

“Got it.”

Letting her do as she pleased, Dietfried was having his clothes changed from sleeping garments to his uniform.

“You stayed up late yesterday night, right? There are dark circles under your eyes.”

“You’re real noisy lately... Most of it is Gil’s influence, ain’t it... You can’t go today ‘cause you got some business with him?” Seeing her movements halt completely when she was buttoning him up, Dietfried snorted. “So easy to read. You into him?”

“No.”

The duo’s conversation was a daily life scene that had happened countless times already. It was by no means anything special.

“Even if you aren’t, I don’t know about him.”

“No, it is nothing of the...”

“You two gonna see each other alone?”

“Mr. Hodgins is also coming.”

“Even if you hook up with him, I ain’t letting go of you. Work for me on commute.”

“Of course.”

“Hn, now comb my hair.”

“Yes.”

“The ribbon will be... navy blue.”

“Yes.”

Dietfried looked at the girl. She had grown up considerably. Back when they had first met, her height was about enough to reach his waist or so.

——But nowadays, she seems to be kinda intimate with Gilbert.

Although she was working flawlessly as his secretary every day, the feeling that she was being conquered lately was undeniable. That was certainly fulfilling for her, but to Dietfried, it was a tad unamusing.

“You say ‘yes’ but you’re gonna throw me away one day, aren’t you?”

A line that did not feel like him accidentally came out, and once it did so, he could not take it back. As Dietfried stayed quiet, the girl tilted her head.

“It is you who are in the position of throwing me away.”

“As if I can do that at this point; you’re mine.”

Silence.

“Aah, I don’t wanna go to work anymore... I feel awful; everything is so annoying...”

“Lord Dietfried.”

“What? You’re so noisy.”

Disgruntled, Dietfried collapsed onto his bed. After staring at him for a moment, the girl eventually imitated it, collapsing onto the bed and coming close to him.

“You gonna sleep too?”

“I am your asset, after all. I live, die, lie down and sleep together with you.”

“So you’ve come to say that.”

She completely had him on the palm of her hand.

Although he had several complaints about it, he also felt comfort from the nature of this relationship already.

Even now, he had never clearly put into words and explicitly stated his feelings towards her.

“One day... you will...”

“I shall serve you forever.”

“You say that, but one day...”

“I shall serve you. For as long as you do abandon me.”

“I said I ain’t gonna throw you away, didn’t I?”

“You tried once.”

“Y’know, that was a one-time flight response from when I was having a hard time rearing a kid. Raising you was a hassle.”

“I am grateful for it. I shall serve you for life.”

Dietfried was no longer his past self. He had become just a man that could not let go of this girl, who was the proof of his existence.

That was why Dietfried reached out his hand. As if to rule over her; as if to make her not forget about him, her lord.

He called her name, which he himself had chosen, “■■■■”

Having her cheek caressed and her name called, the girl crinkled her eyes a little. “Yes, I am by your side.”

   That was a story in which the future would have changed drastically, had he not thrown her away when he was supposed to.

#violet evergarden #veedit #fyeahvioletevergarden #kyoto animation #kyoani #dietfried bougainvillea #gilbert bougainvillea #claudia hogdins #violet evergarden booklets #violet evergarden if #novel #akatsuki kana #takase akiko #my translation

[iamvegorott]

49 Ineffable Husbands

I...I might have gotten carried away

------------------

49. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” 

Wake Up

Aziraphale gently knocked on the door to the building Crowley had claimed as his many years ago, he would call it his home but Crowley was never a fan of calling it that. They’ve had many houses throughout the millennia but they’ve never really found a ‘home’. 

“Crowley, dear, Madame Tracy dropped some cake by the shop earlier and I was wondering if you wanted a piece.” Aziraphale wasn’t lying about wanting to know if Crowley wanted some cake, but he was also there because he had called Crowley and he didn’t pick up. Crowley always answers, he’s only missed one phone call from him and that was when Hastur and Ligur had been there. Well, it was mostly Hastur since Ligur was...taken care of. “Crowley?” Aziraphale knocked one more time before turning the knob, knowing it was never locked since only people with Crowley’s permission could enter, a ‘never-ending miracle’, as Crowley called it. 

The usually, somewhat, put together rooms were a lot messier than Aziraphale has ever seen them before. There was no sign of it being caused through violence, no stress, it just looked like things were used and never put away. That was still enough to cause some panic to form in Aziraphale’s chest. 

“Crowley? Crowley, you’re home, yes?” Crowley would never go out without a least sending Aziraphale a quick text, just letting him know he was going out so there wasn’t any worry and Aziraphale would do the same. After both of them almost dying by the hands of those that were supposed to be their kind, they relied on each other a lot more nowadays or would at least check-in and make sure the other was feeling fine. 

When there was no answer from knocking on Crowley’s bedroom door, Aziraphale let himself in once more, a little laugh of relief escaping his lips when he found Crowley in his bed. He must have just dozed off. Crowley must have just gotten annoyed at something and went straight to bed rather than tidy up. That was fine, that was normal. Aziraphale knew how to handle Crowley taking a simple nap. 

“I’ll come back later, I’m sure there’ll be more cake.” Aziraphale chuckled and absent-mindlessly picked up some clothing and placed them in a laundry basket before leaving the building. Crowley would be up later that day and come by the bookshop, he always did. 

x~x~x

“Adam!? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at home, dear boy?” Aziraphale said loudly in shock when he opened his shop door after closing hours to find Adam standing there, body slumped a little in worry. 

“Crowley didn’t come over today,” Adam stated. 

“Come over where? Oh, come in, come in. It’s too cold for you to be standing out there without a jacket.” Aziraphale gestured for Adam to enter the building. 

“Crowley usually visits.” Adam closed the door behind him, looking up at the bell for a moment after it rang. 

“Visits?” Aziraphale picked at his fingers as he tried to figure out what Adam was referring to. 

“Ever since that day at the Base, Crowley comes sees me and the Them once a week and he was supposed to come today,” Adam explained from where he stood. 

“Would you like some tea or perhaps some cocoa?” Aziraphale offered. “And maybe Crowley just lost track of time and will be there tomorrow.”

“He’s never been late.” Adam finally turned around. “He’s always there exactly seven days after his previous visit. Every Friday at five in the afternoon and he stays until seven and he gives us all a biscuit before he goes to see you.” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale looked over at the chair that Crowley liked the most, it was next to the heating vent and was in direct sunlight during the day. It had been a while week since Aziraphale went to Crowley’s place and he still hadn’t shown up. 

“Is he okay? My friends were sad to see that he wasn’t there today and I don’t like seeing them sad.” Adam stared down at his feet down, shifting his weight between them. 

“He’s fine, my boy, he’s always fine.” Aziraphale gave Adam a forced smile, hoping the child couldn’t tell that it was. “I could get you a biscuit if you want but you should head back home so your parents don’t worry.” 

“They’re asleep,” Adam said with a shrug. “Do you have chocolate ones?” 

“Of course! Let me go get it real quick.” Aziraphale stepped away and when he was out of sight, he snapped his fingers and a plate of chocolate treats appeared in his hands. He spun right back around and walked up to Adam. “If it’ll help, I’ll stop by Crowley’s and let him know that you miss him. I’m sure he must have just gotten busy with something and lost track of time and wasn’t sure if being late would be okay.” 

“You miss him too?” Adam asked as he took a treat. “He should be here and he’s not.” 

“How do you know he comes here after seeing you?” 

“He says ‘I’m off to see my angel’ and we all know that’s you. My mom thinks it’s cute.”

“Your mother knows of us?” Aziraphale went stiff. 

“She thinks Crowley is another kid.” Adam had another treat. “I tell her about the games we play and she likes that I’m ‘expanding my friend group’.” Adam sounded like he was quoting her, he must have overhead it since it wasn’t likely she had said that to him face-to-face. “Let him know he can come back whenever he wants. It doesn’t have to be on a schedule.” Adam grabbed a few more treats before suddenly vanishing. 

“It’s only been a week. Nothing to worry about.” Aziraphale said to himself. 

x~x~x

“I’m still expecting Crowley to show up,” Newt said with a weak laugh before sipping from his cup, making a face when he burned his tongue. 

“I agree. It’s rare to see one of you without the other.” Anathema said as she pushed up her glasses with a hand after having looked down at a book for a bit. 

“Crowley’s just been tired lately,” Aziraphale said with his own weak smile. 

“Do angels and demons really need sleep?” Newt asked. “Like, you can’t die unless you’re killed, right?” 

“It’s complicated,” Aziraphale said. 

“The sleeping or the not dying?” 

“Both.” 

“Can’t you just check on him?” Newt pointed up and Aziraphale’s brows went up as well. “Doesn’t he live here with you?” 

“Not all couples live together,” Anathema said, flipping through a few pages before sighing and closing the book. 

“I think you’re thinking a little too much on mine and Crowley’s...uh...relationship.” Aziraphale cleared his throat, that last word causing his face to feel warm for some reason. 

“I can’t tell if that means you’re not together or if all you do is have se-” Newt stopped when Anathema elbowed him in the side. “-ow!”  

“Thank you for letting me look around. I’ll find that book one day.” Anathema said, handing the book to Aziraphale. 

“I’ll keep an eye out for it, your dedication to finding it had got me intrigued as well. What was the title?” 

“Kama Sutra. But I want it in its original language, the original text, you know? I want it to feel more authentic when we learn from it.” Anathema was gesturing towards her body as she spoke. 

“I...I am actually able to help you.” Aziraphale tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Give me just a moment.” Aziraphale went over to a wall and pressed his hand against it, hearing Newt gasp when it pushed back like a panel and it shifted over to the side, showing a hidden storage hole. 

“You do not.” Anathema watched as Aziraphale picked up a book and went back to her. “How? Why? When?” Her questions came out all at once. 

“Crowley managed to get his hands on it a while ago, not sure how and I don’t think I ever want to know but he gave it to me as an ‘April Fools’ gift on the first of April. He still loves that silly holiday he helped create.” 

“I’m not shocked he came up with that.” Newt chuckled. 

“Why do you have it locked away like that? I get keeping it in the back so kids don’t find it, but the secret apartment seems a little much.”  Anathema asked as she gently opened the book, how it was in such great condition was beyond her. 

“Hearing Gabriel yell ‘pornography’ without there actually being any is terrible enough. I don’t even want to imagine what it would be like if he actually found erotica.” Aziraphale rubbed at his temple.

“Thank you, I’ll be sure to return it as soon as we’re done and in the same condition,” Anathema said, giving Aziraphale a quick hug. 

“Don’t have too much fun, I’m not helping pay for a medical bill because you misread the book.” Aziraphale teased with a wag of his finger. 

“Thank you again, and let Crowley know that I owe him too,” Anathema said. 

“I’ll be sure to let him know.” Aziraphale smiled and snapped his fingers, sending the two back to their home. “I’ll be sure.” He added in a softer voice. It had been a month without Crowley. A whole month. What if he didn’t get up for years, decades, centuries? It’s not like he hasn’t slept for that long before. But what caused it? Did Aziraphale do something wrong? He should go back, right? He should make sure Crowley was okay, right? 

x~x~x

“Crowley...Crowley?” Aziraphale was, once again, at Crowley’s building and knocking on the front door. “Oh, dear.” Aziraphale walked in and found that the house was in the same condition it was in three months prior. He had been scared to come back, worried that he was the problem and him arriving would make everything worse. 

It was getting hard without Crowley. Madame Tracy and Shadwell kept asking about him almost every day. Adam showed up once a week, almost crying the last time he had been there. Anathema and Newt had come back with the book and both of them had convinced Aziraphale to come to the building, saying that he should at least peek in and make sure he was still there. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale walked straight to the bedroom, the door at the same angle where he left it. After opening it, he saw that everything was still the same. The clothing was in the basket, the glass of water was still full and Crowley was in the same position on the bed as well. 

Aziraphale went to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, Crowley’s feet next to him. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, hoping that him just being there would be enough to wake Crowley, but after twenty minutes of stiff silence, he knew that wasn’t true. 

“Crowley...Crowley, dear, please wake up. You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” Aziraphale placed a hand on Crowley’s leg. “Madame Tracy misses talking with you, Adam misses playing with you, Anathema and Newt miss seeing you.” Aziraphale swallowed. “I miss your snark, your wit, your walk, your talk, your...everything.” He took a moment to move up the bed so he was now next to Crowley’s chest. “I miss you walking into my shop every day, sitting in your chair and asking me what I’m up to. I miss us going out to eat, haven’t been to the Ritz in forever and I can’t go without you, it’s our place, it’d feel wrong.” Aziraphale’s chest and eyes were beginning to burn. “I miss your jokes, your laugh, your smile, the way your eyes sparkle when your working on your plants or when we’re together.” Aziraphale sniffed, there were tears forming and he didn’t care to stop them. “I miss you. I know it’s only been three months but it feels like an eternity without you.” Aziraphale gently placed a hand on Crowley’s cheek. “Wake up...please. Please, I need you back. Even if it’s just for a moment at a time, I need you. Please.” Aziraphale leaned down and pressed his forehead to Crowley’s. “Please.” 

“Angel?” Crowley’s voice came out soft and hoarse. 

“Crowley!?” Aziraphale straightened up quickly. “Crowley, you’re awake! Oh, thank heavens!” 

“You’re here? I thought you were mad at me?” Crowley was clearly only half-awake as he pushed himself up slightly. 

“Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?” 

“I was late. I was late seeing Adam and Them and I was late seeing you. You weren’t there and I thought I upset you.” Crowley blinked a few times. “I came home to take a nap because I was upset too.” 

“Crowley, my dear, I was out getting a new book. I could have sworn I left a message.” 

“Machine’s broke.” Crowley rubbed at his eyes. “How long was I out?”

“Three months.” 

“Three...damn. Was only supposed to be an hour. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I’m just glad you’re awake.” Aziraphale patted Crowley’s shoulder, leaving it there. 

“I’m glad you’re here.” Crowley put a hand on top of Aziraphale’s. 

“A lot happened while you were absent.” Aziraphale’s face was starting to warm up. 

“You’ll have to tell me all about it.” Crowley was feeling warm as well.

“We have all the time in the world to catch up.” Aziraphale unconsciously started to lean. 

“As long as it’s with you.” Crowley closed the gap between them and pressed their lips together. It was a short kiss, just enough to feel it before they moved apart. 

“O-Oh.” 

“That was a long time coming,” Crowley said with a small smile. 

“I believe it was.” Aziraphale was the one to initiate the kiss, both letting it last just a bit longer. 

“Want to go to the Ritz?” Crowley asked. 

“As long as it’s with you,” Aziraphale repeated with a wink.

“Perfect.”  

---------------------

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Drabble Prompts (closed)

#anon #drabble prompts #not really a drabble #ineffable husbands #crowely/aziraphale

[feelingfredly]

Burning Hearts and Burning Souls a.k.a Shiba Fever

For days his skin had felt like it didn’t fit right—too tight and too loose, sunburnt, and freezing all at the same time.

“I am sorry, Ichigo, but I cannot find anything wrong with your human body. Even your iron levels are good, and you know how we had to fight that with iron pills after you hit puberty and had that first growth spurt. You were constipated for months…”

Ichigo pulled his shirt closed as his father dropped his stethoscope.

“I thought we’d agreed never to discuss that again.” He growled the words out over Isshin’s embarrassing catalog of his childhood illnesses. “You’re sure I don’t have a fever?” He rubbed his hand over his forehead. It didn’t feel hot, but every other symptom just screamed fever.

“Ah my son, I know you have very little faith in my abilities as a physician…” the drama king was at it again, and Ichigo was tempted to add to the list of things about his father that he had little faith in, “but even I can take a temperature. Unless you’d prefer I try the rectal thermometer?”

Ichigo scooted back violently and held up his hands in defeat. “No, no that’s okay. I believe you. It’s not a fever. Not a fever.”

He slid off the exam table and finished putting his clothes back in order.

“Thanks for checking me out,” he said, sighing. “I just can’t figure out what’s wrong with me.”

Isshin hesitated a moment. “Well, I’ve taken several blood samples and sent them off for testing.  We will keep watching, and hopefully we’ll figure out what’s causing this discomfort sooner rather than later.

Ichigo nodded and grabbed his bag. He’d promised Chad they’d meet up at the gym.

“I’ll let you know if anything changes. I’m going to be over at Chad’s this afternoon. We may get dinner. I’ll call and let Yuzu know if I’m not going to be back in time to eat with you all.”

With that and a wave, he spun on his heel and headed out the door, into the sunlight.

Isshin reached for his phone and dialed a number he hated. “Kisuke? I think Ichigo has a problem.”

***

Ichigo pushed open the door to the boxing club. The smell of leather and rubber and sweat was strangely pleasant, and it was nice to hear the healthy sound of fighting without the accompanying panic of having to win or die.

“Hey Ichigo,” Chad called from the ring in the center of the room, and then lashed out in a sharp one-two punch, knocking his opponent off-balance. “Be there in a minute.”

He watched the big man square off against a smaller but much quicker opponent, and a wave of dizziness threatened to bring him to his knees. His skin was on fire, and swirling gray encroached on his view of the black and red ring.

 He’s fast.  Damn he’s fast.  STAND AND FIGHT LIKE A MAN! What’s he even doing here.  He isn’t Shiba. Looks like one of….

“Ichigo.” A deep voice called him back from the edge of unconsciousness, and then there was a cracking sound and the terrible smell of ammonia. “You with me, man? Come on, shake it off.  Take a deep breath. Yeah, that’s it.”

Ichigo grabbed his stomach trying to stop the bleeding, grab the black handled tachi that had sliced him in half, to keep his insides inside… but there was nothing there. No tachi. No blood. Just the ghost pain from the vision and the searing image of the face of the man who’d killed/not killed him.

Sweaty arms held him propped against a bare chest. Chad. Just Chad.

The bright lights hanging above him looked like multiple suns, each one surrounded by a halo of color that slowly faded as his vision came back to normal.

He sat up and the little trainer next to him pulled his eyelids back in a cursory examination.  He grunted and nodded to Chad. “Should be good. But he isn’t fighting today. I won’t clear him for the ring.”

Ichigo could feel Chad’s agreeing head shake as an earthquake through his chest. “That’s cool, Hoda-sensei. I’ll get him up and feed him. He forgets to eat sometimes.”

The trainer looked at Ichigo and the redhead shrugged and pushed himself. “Been fighting off an inner ear thing. My balance is all screwed up. Sorry for the trouble, Hoda-sensei.”

It looked like the little man was going to say something else, but a head shake from Chad stopped him and he looked between the two men a moment before coming to some decision.

“Okay, Kurosaki-kun, if you say so.  Have your dad look you over if it doesn’t get better, yeah?”  He looked at Chad. “You need to get your rub down and your shower. You’re going to lock up if you sit here and let your muscles get cold. Kurosaki-kun, you can sit in the locker room while Yasutora-kun finishes up. Now get going.”

He pulled Ichigo to his feet and watched as Chad rose smoothly behind him. “Next time, don’t just cold-cock your sparring partner when your friend goes down, Yasutora-kun. It’s hard enough to find someone willing to let you beat up on them regularly.”

Chad just rumbled something agreeable and the trainer made a frustrated sound. “Fine, fine…  locker room. Now.”

With that the little man wandered back to the ring-side and starting barking directions at another pair of fighters warming up.

“You good to walk, Ich?” Chad picked up his gloves from the floor where he’d apparently thrown them.

Ichigo rolled his head from side to side, but the swirling gray didn’t reappear. “Yeah, I think I’m good. The dizziness is gone at least.”

They made their way to the outside of the mats on the wrestling area floor and headed to the locker rooms in the back.

“What happened?” Chad asked.

Ichigo shook his head, still feeling a little discombobulated. “I don’t know. One minute I was watching you take on that little guy, and then the whole world got weird. The ring and the gym were gone, and I was outside with some little guy in black attacking me. He stabbed me in the stomach… it was… bad.”

“Bad, huh?” Chad didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. For Ichigo to say something was bad, it had to be really bad.

“Yeah.” Ichigo pulled a deep shuddery breath and pressed his hand again his abdomen. He could still feel his intestines, hot and slippery, as he tried and failed to hold them in. He could feel the blood dripping through his fingers. Hear the scream of someone else in the distance and see the satisfied face of his killer. “Bad.”

He pressed a hand to his own forehead, but even with the shocky feeling making his fingers cold, he didn’t feel any hotter than before. This was just crazy.

“You talk to your dad about the fever? You said you were going to.”

Chad had argued that he check in with Isshin for a while, ever since the sensitivity had started, but he’d refused until now.

“Yeah.” He sighed and followed Chad further into the locker room. “He can’t find anything wrong. No fever. Nothing obvious.  He did take some blood samples and is going to send them to the lab. If he doesn’t find anything there, I don’t know what I’m going to do. This is getting crazy.”

Chad splashed around for a few minutes before coming back out, towel slung low on his hips, and hair dripping long down his back.

“You scared me, Ich. Your face lost all its color. You were looking at something, but I couldn’t tell what.” Chad didn’t push, but Ichigo knew he would wait until he got an explanation.

“It’s like I told you before,” he said. “Different person this time, though. And I saw who killed me.”

Chad grunted and put a hang on Ichigo’s shoulder. “You didn’t tell your dad about that part, did you?”

Ichigo flushed a little and looked away. “If it turned out to just be a fever from some human disease, there was no point.  He wouldn’t need the details of my hallucinations to treat what’s causing them.”

Chad pulled his street clothes out and got dressed in silence. It comforted Ichigo to know that he would always be there, supportive and strong without feeling the need to manipulate. He didn’t put up with lies or shitty behavior, but he wasn’t a hypocrite about it, unlike most people Ichigo had worked with over the past few years.

“If the blood tests come back negative, you’re going to have to talk to him, you know.” Ichigo sighed and banged his head back against a metal locker, the sound a strangely appropriate punctuation to what he wanted to say to that. “I know.”

Chad pulled him into a loose embrace and patted his back. “You won’t have to face him alone, though. Promise.”

Ichigo pressed his forehead into the clean smelling corner of Chad’s neck and shoulder and breathed deeply. “Thanks.”

***

Kisuke flipped another page and frowned.

“And he hasn’t explained these to you?” Accusation laced his question and Isshin had the grace to look embarrassed.

“He doesn’t know I found them. You know I haven’t always been the most… attentive parent. I don’t think he ever expected me to notice.  But the drawing started about the same time he started complaining about feeling dizzy. Then the fever symptoms started, and he was drawing more and more. Last week he made the trip into Tokyo to pick up better pencils and a couple of sketch books.  He shoved these old notebooks into the drawer when he got those.”

Kisuke frowned. “You really shouldn’t have brought them to me without his permission. This is Personal Space Violation 101, Isshin-san. Plus, you don’t know for a fact that they’re connected to whatever this illness is. It could just be coincidental.”

Isshin reached out and snagged one of the spiral notebooks that Kisuke hadn’t gotten to yet.

“He’s getting better. The drawings look less like Rukia trying to make battle plans, and more like actual people.” He opened the slim book and flipped through a few pages before finding what he was looking for. He slid the open notebook back across the table.

Kisuke froze.

“Who told him about this?” he asked.

Isshin shook his head, “No one. It isn’t something that just comes up in dinner conversation, you know.”

Kisuke nodded faintly. It wouldn’t. The assassination of the children of a clan, dead before they could even begin to understand why they were targets, was something that couldn’t be forgotten, but couldn’t be treated lightly.

Ichigo had understood that.

The drawing was rough. Ichigo wasn’t trained, but that didn’t matter.  He’d caught the scene in its entirety. Bodies scattered in the darkness, the only light the flames rising behind them, but the buildings were unmistakably the Shiba compound. And there, scattered like abandoned toys, were six children that would never fulfill their potential as scions of the Shiba clan. They’d been pulled from their homes and schools and brought to the Shiba compound as a protective measure when it became clear that for whatever reason the Shiba were becoming targets for both violence and gossip.

The compound had become their killing ground.

“There were six children.” Kisuke said and Isshin nodded, unable to look at the picture on the table. He had been on assignment for the Gotei 13 when the killing happened, and he’d never forgiven himself for not being able to stop it.

“Six.” Kisuke was staring at the drawing. One long finger traced the outlines on the page and Isshin huffed.

“Yes, you morbid bastard. Six of them. The oldest was eleven. He was supposed to start at the Academy that year.”

Kisuke hummed. His finger trailed across the cheap lined paper, careful not to smudge the pencil lines, until it landed on what looked like a hand reaching out from the space outside the picture.  Reaching forever for the others lying across from it.

“There are five in this picture.” Kisuke tapped his finger on the outstretched hand. “And this is drawn from the perspective of the sixth. Like he watched it happen.”

Isshin looked at Kisuke and frowned. It made no sense.

“There’s no way for him to have seen it, Kisuke,” he said, “it happened almost fifty years ago.”

Kisuke slowly flipped more pages and shook his head. “Something is going on, Isshin-san, and if this is any indication, Kurosaki-san is right in the middle of it.”

Isshin sagged in his chair, the painful memories of his clan nothing compared to his worry for his son.

“Again.”

***

He’d fallen asleep between Chad and Orihime about halfway through the movie. Uryu turned the volume down a little so they could talk without waking him.

“He’s lost more weight.”

Orihime nodded. “I tried to heal him of whatever this is…” she waved an impatient hand, “but nothing changed. Again.”

She’d been trying to reject whatever was plaguing the redhead each week, but except for solving some of his exhaustion, it hadn’t changed anything.

Uryu shook his head. “His body isn’t the problem.  His reishi levels are getting higher every time I see him. I don’t know how, but it has to be what’s causing his symptoms. His soul just isn’t designed to hold so much.”

Chad shifted and wrapped his arm around Ichigo’s shoulder. “Can you teach him to bleed some of it off? Can he focus it like you do with the arrows?”

Uryu shook his head. “No. The problem is that it isn’t just about the reiryoku around him, or the reishi in him. It’s become part of him and is exerting its own spiritual pressure. He was strong before, but this…” his voice faded. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Orihime glanced back and forth between the three. “Have you seen the new sketches?”

Chad shook his head, “No, but he collapsed at the gym earlier. He didn’t want to worry you, so that’s why he didn’t mention it. He has, apparently, talked to his dad about it finally. Shiba-san can’t find anything wrong. He drew blood for some tests, but I can tell Ichigo doesn’t think he’s going to find anything.”

Ichigo groaned sleepily and rolled away from Chad’s hold. “If you wanted to know, you could have just asked me. You didn’t have to wait until I was out for the count before discussing things.”

Orihime rested her hand on his knee. “You needed your rest, Ichigo-kun. We were just talking.”

Ichigo covered her hand with his own and gave it a squeeze. “Yeah, well, the time for denial has passed. Even Goat Face thinks so.”

Uryu’s lips twisted. “I could get you in to see Ryuuken. Maybe he could figure out what’s wrong.”

Ichigo snorted. “Yeah, that’s about a mile past my last resort, Uryu. But thanks for the offer.  Really.”

They all settled deeper into Chad’s immense sofa and turned the movie back on as Ichigo sighed in resignation.

“Time for a visit to the Shōten.”

***

Ichigo thrashed in his bedding, fighting the blankets as if they were trying to kill him.

“Ichigo,” Uryu reached out and touched the redhead’s shoulder. “You’re okay. It’s just a dream.  Try to calm down.”

It didn’t help. A well-placed elbow caught Uryu in the jaw with a crack, and he saw stars. He knew that if he didn’t calm Ichigo down, that was going to be the least of his injuries.

“Why are you doing this, Rin-chan?” The high-pitched cry pierced the dark room, far from Ichigo’s normal voice. “You said you wanted to speak to my father. You said you wanted me to…”

Ichigo screamed, and Uryu had never heard anything more terrifying. Ichigo didn’t scream. Nothing frightened him. Nothing.

“Ichigo,” he pushed across the cushions separating them on the makeshift futon where they’d crashed a few hours earlier and shook the redhead hard. The earlier elbow was accompanied by flailing legs and a sharp right hook that Uryu barely dodged. It would be easier if Ichigo knew what he was doing, but he couldn’t fight someone who was so helplessly caught in the maze of his own mind. “Wake up, baka.” He gave his friend a sharp slap, just enough to cut through whatever nightmare was running his body at the moment, and Ichigo sat bolt upright in his blankets.

“Otōsan! No!” The high-pitched voice faded as consciousness crept back into Ichigo’s eyes, the foggy amber brightening as he came back to himself.

“Shit,” he hopped to his feet and ran for the bathroom, retching into the sink, the afterimages burning themselves into his memory. Blood from a beautiful mouth, and an unfeeling face behind a deadly dagger thrust up through a white chin. The knowledge that a beloved father was next on the devil’s hit list and guilt that she was the one who opened the door for him.

He came back out of the bathroom to see Uryu waiting patiently, one of his new sketchbooks in hand, holding it and a pencil out.

“Get it out, Ichigo,” he said gently. “I’ll keep watch for a while.”

During the war they’d watched each other’s backs like that, and deep inside he knew that if Uryu was standing guard he didn’t have to. He nodded gratefully and flipped through until he found a blank page, the pencil and paper becoming the focus of his whole world.

There was no fire this time, just silent death, efficient in its betrayal of a woman’s trust and heart.  So many hopes snuffed out with that life.

He sketched the woman’s kimono, the garden, the blood on her fingers as she touched her face in disbelief, but mostly he focused on the killer’s face.  It was one he’d seen countless times. The same man wielding a black blade that held not only death but utter destruction for any soul it touched. A man intent on destroying the Shibas, not just in this generation, but forever.

Who he was Ichigo had no clue. At first, he’d hoped it was just an over-active imagination, a savior complex suffering with no one to save, but the face hadn’t faded. Instead, it had become so clear that he felt like he could smell mint tea on his breath, and the peppery scent of his hair oil.

It took an hour for him to wind down, another fifteen minutes for him to put a few more details on the image so he could be certain he wasn’t missing anything important. Uryu sat with his back to him, their feet barely touching, as Ichigo hunched over the kotatsu, the Quincy making certain that nothing would disturb his friend while he couldn’t defend himself.

“Finished?” He asked when he sensed Ichigo’s movements slowing.

“Yeah,” the redhead cleared his throat. “Never been female in one of these before.”

Uryu glanced over his shoulder and down at the sketch. Definitely a woman’s point of view.

“That’s the same guy you drew yesterday,” he said. Ichigo nodded.

“He’s been in a lot of these dreams. I don’t know who he is any more than any of the others, though.”

They put away the drawing supplies and straightened the blankets again, the warmth from the kotatsu a pleasant contrast to the rest of the cool apartment.

“All good?” Chad’s voice came from the door to the bedroom and they could see Orihime’s shadow in the hall to the tiny guest room waiting to hear the all clear. Ichigo couldn’t imagine going through this without them.

“Yeah, I think so. The worst is over. Just a little tired now.”

“Ichigo-kun?” Orihime asked quietly. “Would you like me to…”

He smiled at his friend but shook off her offer. “Thanks, but I think this time I’m just going to roll with the tiredness and see if I can’t fall asleep.”

Orihime pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and gave him a hard look. “Okay, but if you can’t get comfortable, or if you have another vision, wake me. I can at least take the physical pains away.”

They shared a smile and she headed back down the hall with a little wave to the others. He hated how he’d become a burden to his friends, but they’d made it clear that after all the time he’d spent saving everyone else, it was their turn to take care of him.

***

Kisuke didn’t think of himself as an artist, but after a few centuries of life before cameras one developed certain skills.  

“This is what he drew?”

Yoruichi had one hand outstretched, and Kisuke could feel how much she didn’t want to touch the sketch pad but couldn’t keep her fingers from reaching for it.

“It’s a fair representation. It doesn’t have the power of the original, but the details are pretty much there.”

Kisuke didn’t say it didn’t feel like the artist was screaming, or that it was missing the sheer hopelessness behind that other outstretched hand, small and uncalloused by life. He couldn’t find the words.

“He isn’t going to appreciate you having this, even if it is just a copy of what he drew. This is Ichigo, Kisuke. You need to be careful you don’t push him too far.”

He knew. There was enough between him and Ichigo already. He was trapped again, though. He couldn’t do what he needed to do without doing things that he really, really shouldn’t be doing.

Again.

Yoruichi shivered, still looking at the sketch book. “I knew a couple of these kids. They were a lot younger than Kūkaku, but we looked out for them occasionally. Played with them sometimes. The littlest, Ai-chan, didn’t like being at the compound. She wanted to go home so badly, but her parents were certain she’d be safer there.”

Kisuke sagged in his chair. He’d done things he would never be able to reconcile with, but there was always a reason. There was no reason for this.  

“What happened to them, Yoruichi? And why?”

Long dark limbs dropped into a chair across from him, and his friend sighed deeply.

“I don’t know, Kisuke. Kūkaku doesn’t talk about it much. She gets so angry and sad.” Her voice hardened. “I can’t imagine it happening to the Shihōin. I wouldn’t stop until I’d killed everyone responsible or died in the attempt.”

Kisuke nodded. He had no problem imagining that outcome, and if something like this happened again the Shiba Clan head would no doubt shove her Kakaku Hō up their collective asses and shoot off every firework in the Seireitei. But Kūkaku had been young when the Shiba had been targeted, and back then she wasn’t nearly as blood-thirsty as her Shihōin friend.

Isshin had been with the Gotei 13 already, although in retrospect he’d been sent on many missions that were better suited to others, and his absence meant that there was less force behind the Shiba outcry that they were being targeted. Kaien… well, Kaien had done what he could.  He’d been constrained by the rules of the Gotei 13 as well, but as the head of the Shiba Clan he was forgiven for some of his outbursts.

“Kaien was convinced there had to be someone in the Central 46 targeting the Shiba. He couldn’t prove it, but he told Kūkaku not to trust anyone from the Gotei 13 or Central 46 until he could dig a little deeper.  Unfortunately, he was killed before he came up with any proof of his suspicions.”

Unfortunate indeed.

Kisuke pulled the sketch pad across the table, once again focused on the faceless hand reaching out to his cousins.

“I think Ichigo is having visions of these killings.”

Yoruichi stilled, her little self-soothing movements stopped like a cat catching view of prey.

Long slender fingers picked up a pencil and sketched a small image on the corner of the pad.

“All of his drawings are from the victim's’ point of view. And this.” He pushed the pad towards Yoruichi. “It was on several pages of his sketchbooks, even as far back as his earliest drawings.”

The twisted emblem marked only a few items in Seireitei, and there was no reason for Ichigo to have ever recognized the significance of it, even if he had once seen it etched into the side of the Sōkyoku.

Ichigo had made sure that Twinned Punishment was destroyed, but there were other, smaller items that could destroy a soul without the burning power of Sōkyoku’s phoenix. It was only the most powerful souls that needed its sun-hot scourge.

“You don’t think someone…” Yoruichi started, but she didn’t finish the thought. “Tch. It would have to be, wouldn’t it?”

Kisuke nodded. There were only a few places a shinigami could find a soul-destroying weapon, and the Onmitsukido was by far the easiest.

“It looks like someone was using the Onmi, or at least the Onmi’s weapons, in their attack on the Shiba clan. It doesn’t get us any closer to why, but it might explain what’s going on with Ichigo.”

Yoruichi raised an eyebrow, invitation enough for Kisuke to launch into his favorite pastime.

“I have a theory…”

***

“Inoue-san.” Tessai didn’t blink but it was clear he was surprised to see the young woman standing in the Shōten.

“Tessai-san,” she said, bowing deeply. The two had developed a deep bond during the fighting for Karakura Town, and Orihime had great respect for the quiet man.

“Is Urahara-san in?” She was proud that her voice didn’t quaver. Even after a year without seeing the man, it was hard to say his name. “I would like to speak with him if it would be possible.”

Tessai stood a little straighter and Orihime could feel the weight of his silent questions bearing down on her, but as much as she would love to share her problems with him over a cup of wasabi-liquorice tea--it really was wonderful for headaches--as they had done during the dark days, today she had to be strong. For Ichigo.

“Please.”

It must have settled an unspoken concern in the man. He nodded once with a short bow of his own and silently moved towards the back of the store.

He was gone for a few minutes, no more, but to Orihime it felt like an hour. An hour for her to reconsider the wisdom of bearding the lion in his den, and start shaking in her mary janes.

“Inoue-san,” Tessai’s voice calmed her and she turned to face him. “Urahara-san is in the kitchen making tea. He asks that you join him.”

Orihime nodded. “That is very kind of him, Tessai-san. Thank you.”

She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other until she reached the beaded curtain that separated the shop from the living space, and then, with a deep breath, she pushed through.

It looked exactly the same. The shelves were still cluttered with everything from half open boxes of stock for the shop to exotic bottles of ingredients Urahara used in his experiments, and the kitchen smelled of curry powder, matcha, and incense.

“Inoue-san! Such a pleasure to see you.”

Orihime jumped and blushed. “Hello, Urahara-san.” She bowed. If it was a little less respectful than the bow she’d given Tessai, well, Urahara wouldn’t know. “It is very kind of you to allow me to visit without an invitation.”

Urahara tsked and waved his lotus fan. She hated that fan. “You are always welcome, Inoue-san.  I had hoped you and the others would know my door was never closed to you.”

Orihime fumed at his careless tone, the total glossing over his betrayal of Ichigo threatening to bubble up and choke her, and she forced herself to focus on the matter at hand. It wouldn’t help anyone if she let her feelings get the better of her now.

“You are gracious as ever, Urahara-san.” She moved toward the burner where the kettle had begun to boil. “May I?”

Urahara waved his permission with that damned fan and she set to pouring the water over the tea leaves he’d already spooned into the blue porcelain pot.  She breathed the steam in, the slightly astringent smell of green tea an instant relaxant for her overwrought nerves.

The green-robed man moved to his normal perch, a ratty old cushion on the floor next to the kotatsu, his bare feet tucked under the edge of the blanket there. His eyes were hidden under the edge of his hat, as usual, but somehow Orihime felt like she had more of his attention than she’d ever had before.

“Here we go.” She brought the tea tray to the table and started pouring. “The tea smells wonderful. Thank you for allowing me to share it with you.”

Urahara nodded, the fan disappeared in some deep pocket for the moment, his hands using the teacup as his camouflage instead.

It was ironic that the scars that lined his face were never the reason that he hid from the world.  No. He’d hidden his true feelings the whole time she’d known him. The scars just gave him a new excuse.

“How are your studies, Inoue-san?” The blond always insisted on chit chat. For once, she didn’t mind. It gave her time to get her thoughts in order.

“I am happy to say that I will finish my degree next term.” She inclined her head briefly. “It is amazing how much focus one learns through surviving conflict. It made university… much less intimidating.”

She didn’t point out that she was two years ahead of schedule. That she’d doubled up courses whenever possible. That the extra work soothed her during the nights when she couldn’t sleep, or the days when every crowd supplied showed her faces of people that she knew were dead. “I am supposed to start my practical rotations at the hospital after that. Dr. Ishida has guaranteed me a place.”

Uryu’s father was a terrible parent, but he cared greatly about the hospital and its patients. Working with him would allow her to use her spirits when she could, without all the explanations that would be necessary when dealing with someone who was unaware of the spirit world.

Urahara nodded slowly, following the unsaid messages easily. He knew how Ryuuken worked better than most.

“I thought perhaps you would go to work for Isshin-san at the Kurosaki Clinic.”

Orihime held her face blank, the calm visage covering the fierce frown that wanted to make itself known.

“No.” She gently placed her cup on the table, the careful motion a necessary focus. “I decided that was not the best fit for me.”

It had been her dream. She’d imagined a life rolled into the rambunctious embrace of the Kurosakis. A life where she and Ichigo married and, if they were lucky, had children that were just as honorable and awkward and wonderful as Ichigo was. When it became clear that he didn’t return her feelings, she thought she’d shatter with her dreams, but she realized fairly quickly that she didn’t have to grieve the loss of Ichigo. He loved her, it just didn’t take the form of her childhood dreams. That said, the constant reminder of what might have been didn’t sound like the best way to put the past behind her, so when Ryuuken had approached her with his offer, she’d accepted with no regrets. Shiba-san had known how she felt, and when she informed the collected Kurosaki/Shiba/Yasutora/Ishida/Inoue family over one of their group dinners that she was going to accept Ishida-sama’s offer of a position, he’d met her gaze with a seriousness he rarely showed and told her he was happy for her, and that if things didn’t work out she should come back to him because she’d always have a place at the clinic if she wanted.

It was good to have family.

She looked up from her tea and caught Urahara’s eyes. Urahara didn’t understand that. Didn’t understand what he threw away. Baka.

The blond’s ever-present bucket hat was tilted back far enough to show dark circles under his eyes. He looked older, which made no sense. Not only was he shinigami, but he was in a gigai. Still, there was a bone-deep weariness about him.  

Was it wrong that she was happy to see it?

“What about the others? I saw that Yasutora-kun won another of his matches. I told Tessai-san that I wouldn’t be surprised if he was chosen for the Japanese Olympic boxing team.”

Orihime wasn’t sure, but she thought Urahara was babbling. That couldn’t be right, though.

“I don’t think Chado-kun would feel comfortable with that. He says professionals are even paid for losing, so if he wins it isn’t as if they’re suffering unduly. He is very aware of his talents, and how some might feel he has an unfair advantage.”

She tapped a pale pink fingernail nervously on the tabletop, took a deep breath, and jumped in.

“I know you’re wondering why I came to see you today.”

One green shoulder rose a fraction. “Friends are always welcome at the Shoten, Inoue-san, but if there is something I can help you with, I do hope you won’t hesitate to ask.”

Her teeth were instantly on edge. That answer that wasn’t an answer thing he did was so frustrating. He was such a coward.

She was looking around the room trying to calm her thoughts again when her eyes fell on a sketchbook open on the shelf beside Urahara. It had several things stacked on top of it, but there was an edge visible. With a hand. A hand she’d seen before. A hand she cried over.

“How did you get that?”

All thought of politeness fled. He would tell her how he got that picture, if she had to use her spirits to take him apart and put him back together over and over again, his Crimson Princess be damned.

“Inoue-san,” he said placatingly, but she wasn’t going to let him run this time. Not this time.

“Tell me.”

Sparks haloed her head, her Shun Shun Rikka practically vibrating at her temples, and Urahara bowed his head and shifted to pull the sketchbook off the shelf.

“Should have made a more thorough effort to put this away, but as you can see,” he waved a hand in her direction, “I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

Orihime grabbed the book and pulled it closer. “Ichigo didn’t draw this.”

Urahara hummed in agreement. “No. I did.”

Brown eyes flew up to pin him in place, and her voice dropped dangerously. “Are you saying that you sent these visions to Ichigo?”

If possible Urahara looked even more tired.

“I know you and your friends have issues with me, Inoue-san, but in this let me reassure you. I do not know why Kurosaki-san is suffering through these visions.” His voice was as bland as rice porridge, but there was a glint in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I didn’t even know they were happening until Isshin-san called upon me yesterday. That is when I saw the picture I copied.”

Orihime snorted. “Shiba-san was snooping through Ichigo-kun’s belongings I suppose. Not a huge surprise, and not his best choice of action, but at least he’s trying.”

“We are all trying, Inoue-san. Kurosaki-san has earned our efforts a hundred times over.” He shifted on his cushion and turned the sketchbook to where the symbol he’d drawn was foremost. “I believe this has something to do with what is happening. I noticed it on several of the drawings Isshin-san showed me.”

Orihime translated the kanji entwined in the little cartouche. Tamashī Mekuri. “Soul Stripping.”

Urahara made a disapproving sound and nodded. “One of the forbidden inventions of the Kidō Corps. Tessai-san outlawed its use when he was promoted.”

Orihime just happened to be looking down when it happened, or she’d never have noticed Urahara’s hand as it fisted along the inside of his thigh.

“What does it do?” She was almost afraid of the answer. If the Kidō Corps had forbidden it, it couldn’t be anything good.

“It does exactly what it sounds like. A soul is stripped from its consciousness and cast out. It dissolves into mindless reiryoku and has no chance at reincarnation. It is a final punishment for souls that are determined to be irredeemable. Polluted. Whose consciousness would poison the whole of the cycle if it were allowed to remain intact.”

Orihime considered this for a moment, horror beginning to dawn. “Like the Sōkyoku?”

“Not exactly.” The blond sat back on his cushion and gave another little half shrug. “It doesn’t have that kind of power behind it.”

He didn’t come out and say It doesn’t summon an enormous phoenix to destroy everything in its path, but he didn’t need to. That kind of thing got noticed, and whatever Urahara was chasing was more subtle than that.

“For Kurosaki-san to be seeing it in his visions, it has to be connected. There are only a few still living in Seireitei that know this spell, and even fewer weapons that have been imbued with its power. It is, at least, a place to start.”

“Can you help him now? While you’re chasing whatever kidō casting phantom is out there?”

The tiredness was back, and Urahara shifted awkwardly until he was almost curled in upon himself.

“I do not believe Kurosaki-san is interested in whatever aid I might provide.” He flipped open his fan, but not before Orihime saw the frustration on his face. “I will do what I can through Isshin-san. Dragging him here against his will would only add to his burden when he is already so clearly suffering, and I refuse to be a party to that. He has enough bad memories of this place already.”

For a year Orihime had struggled with her feelings about the man across from her. She’d practically hated him at times, but now… she admitted she’d been denying something all this time, and it was time to stop.

“Ichigo-kun collapsed yesterday.” She dropped it into the middle of the conversation with an almost audible clang. “That’s why I’m here.”

All pretense of disinterested calm drained from the shopkeeper, and he leaned forward against the table’s edge, her words bringing him to total attention.

“Collapsed?” he asked.

“Yup,” she picked up her tea cup and sipped the cooled brew. “He was watching Chado-kun spar, and then *bang* out for the count.” She watched the blond intently. “It took almost ten minutes for them to bring him around, and then he was wiped out all evening. Uryu-kun says his reishi levels are rising at a dangerous rate, but he can’t figure out how to make it stop.”

The blond was always pale, but he got noticeably paler as she shared more details about Ichigo’s declining health. His fists clenched reflexively, and his breathing was a little faster. If she wasn’t mistaken, and after four years of training as an ER nurse she felt fairly confident in her skills, he was on the edge of a panic attack.  

The mighty Urahara Kisuke, panicking over Ichigo. It was about time.

“He is okay now, I assume? No lingering effects of the collapse?” his questions were practical, but the tone in his voice was personal, and Orihime decided to be merciful.

“He was fine when he went to sleep last night. I’ve been using my Shun Shun Rikka to make sure that whatever is affecting his spiritual pressure levels doesn’t harm his body, but I can’t stop the images from affecting how he feels, or what he thinks.”

Silence fell between them for a moment.

“If he is somehow reliving these events, I can only imagine the toll it must take.”

It wouldn’t take too much imagination, Orihime thought. Urahara had his own demons, his own visions of death to deal with, but he had always been the killer not the victim, and so he made peace with his visions through guilt. It was a miserable peace, but it was more closure than Ichigo had, and Orihime figured he knew that, too.

“He’s coming here this afternoon.” She put the tea down and looked straight at the older man. “He needs your help Urahara-san. Will you turn him away again?”

Urahara stiffened. “I never turned him away, Inoue-san. Never.”

The sneer on her face was even more powerful because it was so rarely seen. “You can lie to yourself, Urahara-san,” she snapped, “but I saw what he was like when you sent him away the last time. I held him as he cried. Chado-kun had to be stopped from coming here and shoving that striped hat up your ass where your head was. You broke his heart, and then you told him to come back once he’d gotten over his adolescent hero-worship.”

She stood, too angry to remain any longer.  Understanding that the feelings between Urahara and Ichigo weren’t as one-sided as she’d thought only made the hateful way the older man had pushed her friend away even harder to swallow.

“How could you?” she whispered. “He loved you. Loves you, still. And here you are, pretending it doesn’t matter, letting him suffer alone. Again.”

She wiped away a tear. “You’re both fools.”

“I have been called worse, my dear,” he said, “and truly. However, if Kurosaki-san wants to come and let me examine him, I would be happy for the chance to help him. Please tell him that.”

She started walking for the front of the shop and flipped her hair back over one shoulder as she sent him one last look. “Tell him yourself. If you want to help, get over your pride or your shame or whatever is causing you to be like this and help. He needs you, and you owe it to him.”

And with the clicking of the beaded curtain she was gone.

***

“Kurosaki Clinic, how can I help you?”

The bright voice cut through the line like sunshine, and Kisuke smiled. Nothing would ever change Yuzu.

“Ah, Kurosaki-kun,” he smiled into the phone, putting his best foot forward, “it has been a long time. This is Urahara Kisuke. I’m trying to reach your brother.”

The phone dropped its connection and he was left speaking into dead air.

He dialed again.

“Kurosaki Clinic, how can I help you?”

“Kurosaki-kun,” he started again, “I’m sorry, I had a problem with my connection. I am trying to get-”

“It was no problem at all,” she said, overriding him. “I hung up on you. And I’m going to do it again. Goodbye.”

And she did.

Kisuke didn’t dial the clinic again. He, instead, called Isshin directly. “Hello, Shiba Isshin.”

“Isshin-san,” he said, his tone a little less cheerful than it had been for Yuzu. “I do hope you don’t intend to hang up on me.”

Isshin grunted. “Why would I hang up on you?”

“I don’t know, but apparently your daughter had a reason.”

It didn’t matter. It really didn’t. He knew that when he refused Ichigo’s advances there would be sides taken. It was just… unexpected.

“Ah, Yuzu,” Isshin made understanding noises. “Yeah, she hates your guts. Pretty sure Karin does, too.”

Kisuke didn’t pretend to be surprised. Karin had always been the volatile one of the twins. If Yuzu had shut that door on him, Karin would have slammed his foot in it given the chance.

“Well, regardless of my standing with your daughters, I am actually calling about your other offspring. I need to get in touch with him, but it seems the phone number I have for him no longer works.”

There was another uncomfortable silence. “Yes, about that… I’ve been thinking. You were right when you said I shouldn’t have gone through Ichigo’s things, and I think that unless you’ve already got some idea of what is going on, we should put this whole thing on the back burner until I get the results from the blood tests back from the lab. We really ought to rule out any--”

Kisuke cut him off. “Inoue-san came to see me this morning.”

Apparently, that news was as surprising to Isshin as the event had been to Kisuke. The other man sputtered and coughed into the phone.

“She what? She swore she’d never…” Isshin realized what he was saying and tried to dial things back but it was hopeless. “I mean…  oh hell, Kisuke, you know what I mean.”

He knew.

“Nevertheless, she came to see me. She told me Ichigo collapsed yesterday.”

“Collapsed!” The worried parent voice would never sound normal coming from Isshin, but it happened often enough now that Kisuke didn’t look for the lie in it. “He didn’t say anything to me. After promising to let me know!”

“Calm down, Isshin-san. I’m sure he will tell you, he just needs time to recover. However, if he is physically unable to deal with the strain of these visions… if he is collapsing from them… I don’t believe we have the luxury of waiting and seeing.”

He thought about the next words carefully. “Inoue-san indicated that he meant to visit the Shōten this afternoon.”

This time Isshin didn’t burst out with denials. “Things must be worse than he told me.”

The implication that only something extreme could drive Ichigo to the Shōten was a bitter truth, but Kisuke couldn’t deny it. He remembered the look of utter betrayal on Ichigo’s face from their last meeting. He lived with the memory of it every day.

“Indeed,” he agreed. “That is why I wanted to contact him first.  If meeting him someplace like the clinic would make it easier for him… Well, Tessai-san and I can take readings anywhere.”

Kisuke swallowed the lump that was trying to block his throat. “You know I’d do whatever necessary to help him, Isshin-san.”

A rough voice sounded behind him. “It was never your help I wanted, Kisuke.” Ichigo laughed bitterly. “And I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you and Goat Face are conspiring behind my back, again.”

His arms were too thin. Muscles from years of sword work were still there, but there was nothing but a layer of skin covering them. His face was drawn, too, amber eyes dull and huge in his face, and Kisuke ached to see the pain in them.

“Kurosaki-san,” he said.  “As a matter of fact, I was trying to contact you. I tried the clinic first, but Yuzu-kun refused to speak to me. So, I called your father.”

Ichigo crossed the small living room and placed a key on the table.  He’d had it all this time but had never used it.

“Orihime told me she came to see you this morning.” He was looking around the room like he didn’t know what to do, and it hurt almost more than the lost look on his face.  Once, he’d considered this almost more a home than his own, but Kisuke had taken that from him, too.

“She did.” The shopkeeper disconnected his call and laid the phone on the shelf beside him. “I spoke to your father yesterday, though.  He was worried about what was happening to you and thought I might be able to help.”

Ichigo chose Tessai’s seat and lowered himself onto the pale pink patterned cushion, moving slowly and carefully like someone more than twice his age.

“Well, for once I’m glad people are doing all the talking for me.  Makes this whole reunion thing a little less awkward don’t you think?” He smiled, but it was a stiff and unnatural thing. “See the thing is, I almost didn’t come today anyway.  Probably would’ve chickened out if Uryu hadn’t threatened to jab me with his sewing needles if I didn’t.”

Kisuke understood.  He’d been avoiding this moment too, but time for avoidance was past.  Ichigo needed him, needed him in a way he could actually give him, and nothing was going to stop him now.

“Well, I will have to thank Ishida-san the next time I see him.”  He moved closer to the redhead and sat on the floor in front of him and spoke softly. “I am very glad to see you, Kurosaki-san.”

He took Ichigo’s hand in his and just held it for a moment, letting his own skin warm it, and he felt the faint tremor that shook the fingers.

“Kisuke,” Ichigo’s voice cracked. “I know I shouldn’t be here, but…” he raised his eyes to the blond’s and swallowed thickly, “I think I’m going crazy.  I’ve fought wanna-be gods, and killed monsters, but I can’t fight this.  I don’t even know what it is.  Please.”

Kisuke’s fingers were crushed in a painful grip but he didn’t try to pull them back. This little bit of pain was nothing compared to what he’d tolerate if it meant he was helping Ichigo.

“Stop that.” He said firmly. “You are not going crazy, and we will find a way to fix this.” He wrapped his free hand around the two clenched ones and squeezed encouragingly.  

“Tessai-san!” He pitched his voice in the sing-song that cut all the way through to the shop, but he knew Tessai was just in the next room waiting.  He knew his kidō skills were going to be an important part of fixing whatever was haunting Ichigo. “We have work to do.”

The large man appeared silently in the doorway and he bowed.

“Welcome back, Kurosaki-san.” There was a world of quiet emotion in those three words, and Ichigo nodded at the big man.

“Good to see you, too, Tessai-san.” He started to say something else, but the words garbled in his throat, and the little bit of color in his face drained away.

“Kisuke--” he whispered. Then he fell.

***

 The little man in black swung his tachi with a vengeance, his face a rictus of hate. The weapon flashed in the low light and the young man fell, blood spurting across the frost covered ground, the redness fading to black as it melted into the grass. Miyake-sama. Master. He did nothing. Let me call for the healer, maybe he can…  No. No!  You can’t!  Please!  PLEASE!!! The shield he summoned wasn’t fast enough, and he felt the burning bite of the tachi shatter his focus and the spell unraveled around him.

The metallic smell of blood faded with the screams in his head, but Ichigo couldn’t move. His body was as frozen as the corpse he’d just been.

“Kurosaki-san,” Kisuke’s arms were wrapped around him but he could barely feel it.  His skin was cold, so cold. “Kurosaki-san!” Kisuke was getting louder, his fingers checking his pulse and tapping his face sharply, but Ichigo was still too far away to respond.

“Ichigo!”  Kisuke picked him up as if he weighed nothing and carried in through the mini-maze of the living space until he reached the sleeping quarters, and then Ichigo was lowered to a futon and covered, the soft gray blankets the same color as Kisuke’s eyes.

“Miyake-sama,” he forced the name through stiff lips, convinced it was important. “He killed me. Killed the others, too.”

“Shhhhh, Ichigo, I’ve got you,” Kisuke murmured the words of comfort as he started setting a pair of kidō seals at the head and foot of the futon. “Just another minute.  Just stay with me. Please. Just another minute? You can manage one more minute, can’t you.  Just one more.”

Then he was yelling for Tessai, the large man moving around in the hallway doing something Ichigo couldn’t see, but he could feel the wall of reishi that was being raised.  It felt like the shield that Hachi placed around the Visored’s warehouse, but smaller.  Tighter. A dome around this room, and him, and Kisuke.

Ichigo shivered as goose bumps raced across his skin, the feverish feeling was almost overwhelming, but he focused on Kisuke’s voice, that voice he’d dreamed of, calling his name, asking him to stay.

“Kisuke.” He fought the vision for control, and he could feel it receding a little. Then, just as Kisuke finished setting the second kidō seal, the hold it had on him disappeared in a flash.

He was himself again.

His throat was raw, and he realized he must’ve been screaming again, “I hope the neighbors didn’t call the cops when I started screaming.”

Kisuke shook his head at the redhead. “Don’t worry about that.  If they haven’t called the police about Jinta and Ururu’s battles royale, a little screaming wouldn’t cause them to blink an eye.”

Ichigo was so tired.  He tried to focus on Kisuke, but his eyes had other ideas. “Whatever you and Tessai did helped.  I could feel it.”

Kisuke looked at Tessai still standing in the doorway and they exchanged some silent kidō master information and Ichigo sighed. He just wanted to sleep.

“Can I just rest here for a little bit?” He tried not to sound pathetic, but he was comfortable for the first time in months, and the feeling of something scratching at his reiatsu was gone. “I promise I won’t stay long. I don’t want to be a bother.”

And if he heard Kisuke whisper he could stay forever if he wanted to, well…  apparently, some hallucinations were better than others.

***

“I think he’ll sleep for a while, Tessai-san,” Kisuke quietly joined his friend in the hallway.  “It’s fairly clear that our theory of Ichigo being the center of a confluence of conscious reishi was right.  Hopefully, that also means that the seals will keep him protected from it,” he sighed.

“Did you notice the barrier he was summoning?” Tessai’s voice was dark. “Kurosaki-kun doesn’t know that spell.  That had to be something he was acting out from the vision.”

“Yes,” Kisuke said. “I’m lucky he didn’t manage to finish the spell.  I was close enough it would have done quite a bit of damage.”

“Also, I heard what he said. Miyake-sama killed me.” Tessai looked down, a rare expression of anger on his face. “The Miyake family has deep roots within the Kidō Corps.  I personally trained two of them before our escape to the living world.  They didn’t have the focus to become great, but they had impressive natural talent. There was nothing to prevent them from reaching officer level if they’d wanted it.”

That made a sort of sense. “Have any of the Miyake ever been members of the Second?”

“Not as far as I know,” Tessai shook his head. “They had no connection to the Shihōin. The men I knew were very proud of their samurai ties. They claimed that their grandfather remembered his life before Seireitei, and that he was so deeply tied to his honor that the knowledge of that past couldn’t be erased by anything short of the Sōkyoku itself.”

The shopkeeper walked down the hall to the kitchen and lit the fire under the kettle.

“So, we have a kidō wielding family talking about honor and the Sōkyoku. Sounds like perhaps someone decided to use their skills to take their revenge against the Shiba, and somehow, through whatever misbegotten method they were using to try to destroy the connection between the Shiba and their soul particles, they’ve left them wandering loose in some sort of limbo, unable to re-enter the reincarnation stream, but still aware.  Still Shiba.”

Fifty years of only being able to remember what was lost.  To remember the betrayal of death. The fear.

Tessai agreed. “Kurosaki-kun must be acting like a beacon for them.  Drawing them to him, as only an incredibly powerful Shiba force could.”

Kisuke laughed under his breath as he scooped matcha into the teapot.  “Why am I not surprised? Ichigo has always been a neon sign in the darkness calling to the lost.”

He had called to Kisuke, pulled him from the shell he’d built around himself. Forced him back into the light. Back into life. Even Benihime sang his praises, and Kisuke wasn’t foolish enough to argue with her.

“It doesn’t explain how the particles are entering his personal reishi pool and affecting him physically?” Tessai frowned. “Nor does it explain why the Shiba’s were targeted in the first place.  However, our first priority is to stabilize Kurosaki-kun and prevent any more damage.”

***

When Ichigo awoke, he wasn’t alone.

“Ichigo-kun!” Orihime excitedly moved to sit beside him on the futon when he shifted. “You look much better!”

“I feel better,” he said, and it was true.  The echoes in his head were gone, and the raw feeling under his skin had faded almost completely. “A lot better, actually.”

He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck, the last echoes of the vision of being killed much farther away than usual at this point.  “I collapsed again, didn’t I?”

“Technically, no,” she said, pushing a piece of hair behind an ear, making one of her hairpins glint in the low light. “Urahara-san said that you were exhausted after the last vision, but that you didn’t lose consciousness due to the changes in your reiatsu.”

Uryu was sitting by the window. “The shinigami was able to stabilize your reiryoku.  There are some interesting protections weaved into the walls of this room already, but I think the kidō seals they placed around you were the real key.  They effectively stop any reishi from entering this space, so while your reiatsu isn’t affected, there’s nothing extra bombarding you.”

Ichigo remembered Tessai’s mad dash to raise the shield just as he was about to collapse again, buried under a reishi-slide too powerful for him to handle.  It was a close call, and he didn’t want to think of how long it would have taken him to recover if he hadn’t managed it in time.

“So, you’re basically a boy in a bubble.”

He looked around at the room, littered with Kisuke’s personal things and sighed. A sandalwood incense, and Kisuke scented bubble.  Why couldn’t the Universe just kill him already?

He must’ve made some sound because Uryu let out a little snort of laughter.  “Yeah.  Someone out there loves fucking with you, Kurosaki.”

Another laugh rumbled in the distance. Goat Face. Of course.

“Your dad got here just before we did.” Orihime grimaced. “Apparently he panicked when Urahara-san hung up on him. He told Yuzu-chan to close the clinic and shunpo’d over here. He’s already received one Jigokuchō since he arrived.  I’m assuming it’s for breaking the shinigami laws of concealment, but I didn’t ask.”

His dad was many things, but restrained and logical in the face of trouble was nowhere on that list. He had to admit, though, that it was nice to finally feel important to his old man, even if it did mean he had a brand new helicopter parent in his life at twenty-three.

“At least he hasn’t run in here and tackled me.”

Orihime grinned.  “He tried.  Apparently Urahara-san put a little extra anti-Shiba kick in the shield.  He can’t get in.”

“And the best part, is that because the problem you’re having is directly connected to Shiba energy, there’s nothing he can do about it.” Uryu said.

Ichigo burrowed back into the blankets, sucking up every ounce of comfort he could.

“Shiba, huh?  So the visions?”

A dainty hand reached out and patted his arm, and he knew Orihime was trying to find a way to tell him what he needed to know gently.

“It’s okay, Orihime,” he said. “Just tell me. Can’t fight it if I don’t know what it is.”

Uryu saved her. “That’s just it.  We’re not sure it’s something you can fight. When we got here we saw that you’d dropped your pack by the back door, so we pulled your sketchbooks out and let them look at them.  All three of them recognized someone in those books, and every single vision was the murder of a Shiba.”

Ichigo had often wondered what had happened to his father’s clan, but it wasn’t something Goat Face was comfortable talking about.  He carried as much guilt over it as Kisuke did over what he’d done for the Onmitsukidō, or during the wars against Aizen and Ywach.

“Did any of them recognize the killers?” he asked.

“Tessai-san.” Orihime looked solemn.  “They were students of his at one point apparently.  He was most… disturbed.”

“I can imagine.”  Ichigo had only seen Tessai lose his cool twice during the war against Aizen, but he’d been a demon in the fight against the Quincy.  The big man did not take kindly to betrayal, and he would destroy anyone who attacked an innocent. Many of the Shiba he’d seen killed were innocents.

His stomach growled and he realized he was hungry for the first time in weeks. “Am I really stuck in this room?” he asked. “I’m starving.”

Orihime beamed. “This is the safest place for you, but Tessai-san told me they set up a slightly less intense barrier around the building.  You should be safe as long as you don’t leave, and I know for a fact that there’s a big pot of Yuzu’s curry out there keeping warm on the stove.”

Yuzu’s curry and Kisuke’s bedroom. Ichigo could think of worse ways to recuperate.

***

“So, as much as I hate to admit it, I am partially to blame for Kurosaki-san’s current state of disability.” Urahara said, voice heavy with guilt. “The sword used to return his powers to him during the conflict with Ginjo, was designed to allow many different types of power to be absorbed into his soul, recharging it.  It had to open a pathway for the reishi to travel and the spells I worked into its surface acted almost like the drugs used in a human organ transplant surgery.  I had to make sure the new energy wasn’t somehow rejected by his soul before it could be absorbed and accepted as Kurosaki-san’s own.”

Uryu caught on quickly. “And that pathway is still open?”

Kisuke nodded. “It seems likely, yes.  Tessai-san is going to examine Kurosaki-san more closely now that he has rested and there is no foreign reishi clouding the readings, but that is my best guess.”

The room was crowded, and it felt almost like the old days. Everyone focused on solving a problem, brought together by conflict, but kept together by something stronger.  That something had almost always been Ichigo.   It didn’t seem wrong that he was again the reason that the ten of them were once again around his table.  It felt even more normal to realize that his mistake was what caused part of the problem in the first place.

“Stop blaming yourself, Kisuke,” the redhead said. He was sitting slouched against Chad’s side, his burst of energy from earlier waning as the discussion progressed.  He would need to be forced to rest soon, but from the look on Orihime’s face that wasn’t going to be a problem. “Even if you’d told me at the time that this was a possible side effect I would have grabbed that sword with both hands and stabbed myself if I had to.”

He probably meant it, but that didn’t mean it was the wise choice, or that he knew what he’d have chosen if he’d had the choice.  Ichigo was too ready to just gloss over the details.

“Regardless of what caused the path, what is this energy that is attacking Ichigo-kun through that path.  You keep saying it’s Shiba energy, but unless I’m mistaken souls that have that much awareness reenter the reincarnation cycle, and the ones that don’t just become reishi.”

Tessai spread his big hands. “The kidō corps has invented many spells over the ages that affect reishi and reiryoku.  It allows shinigami to perform the konso that releases souls to come to Soul Society, and on the other end of the spectrum it is used to restrain a soul’s spiritual pressure, or even destroy it in cases of capital punishment.”

“The Sōkyoku.” Ichigo said it like it left a bad taste in his mouth, but Tessai nodded.

“Yes, the Sōkyoku had several different spells embedded in it, one of which was Tamashī Mekuri. The symbol of which is scattered throughout the drawings you’ve made over the past few months.”

“Soul Stripping.” Isshin ground the words out. “I thought that had been made illegal by Central 46.”

Tessai shrugged.  “I am the one who declared it illegal to teach to the Kidō Corps, and Central 46 supported my decision, with a few noted exceptions. But, that doesn’t mean that the skill disappeared.  There were many who already knew how to cast it, and several weapons that had it embedded in them.”

“Let me guess. One of which was a black tachi with a white tassel on the pommel and that symbol stamped in the side of the blade.”  Ichigo’s voice was perfectly flat, but Kisuke could hear the pain in it. He’d seen what the weapon could do up close and personal, and there was nothing that would make that less horrific.

“Yes.” Tessai didn’t dance around with his answers. “Someone used it to not only kill the Shiba living in Seireitei, but attempted to destroy their spirits completely, preventing them from reincarnating, and thereby removing their power from the Shiba forever.”

Yoruichi pounced onto the important part of that sentence. “Attempted?”

“You’re saying they’re still conscious out there.” Isshin sounded appalled, and Kisuke couldn’t blame him.

“Yes.  The killers didn’t have enough reiatsu to activate the full effect of the weapon.  It takes a particular kind of person to be able to completely destroy a soul.  There can be no question in their mind, or they won’t be able to completely strip the consciousness from the energy.’

“Instead of destroying the Shiba energy, they just sent it into limbo, and it has been there ever since. It has coalesced into a metaphysical stream of reishi that identifies as Shiba, and it is still picking up any stray bits of soul that survived the extermination.”

“Because Ichigo has so much Shiba energy of his own, he’s acting like a magnet. It wouldn’t matter except for the hole we punched through his souls protective outer layer. It started as just a trickle, so it wasn’t noticeable. Now that the stream has started moving, though, it is continuing to gain strength as it pours into him.  That is why his reishi levels were rising so rapidly for no reason, and if we don’t close the pathway it will keep happening, until finally it overwhelms his own soul particles.”

“Which I would really like to skip, if possible.” Ichigo sat up, eyes glassy. “But if we close the pathway, what will happen to them?”

“Them who, Kurosaki-san?” Kisuke asked, but he knew the answer.

Ichigo yawned a jaw-cracking yawn and leaned forward on his elbows. “Don’t play dumb, Kisuke.  The souls that are hitching a ride with me.  What will happen to them?”

Kisuke sighed, he knew this was where Ichigo would get stuck.  “Nothing.  They will remain as they have been since they were killed.”

Isshin shifted uncomfortably, and Yoruichi hissed under her breath.  No one liked the answer, but that didn’t change it.

“They’ll just stay…  lost?” The young man looked like the bottom had fallen out of his world, and Kisuke wished he didn’t always have to be the voice of doom.

“Without an anchor, the energy will continue to move through the currents of reishi that flow around us.”

Ichigo pushed himself up, sleepiness gone and a determined look on his face. Kisuke couldn’t help but smile; it was exactly the reaction he’d predicted to Tessai that afternoon.

“Well, screw that.”

***

Kisuke rubbed his eyes and bent back over the table where he and Tessai had God knows what spread out.  It looked like parts of a gigai, and a whole lot of I-have-no-idea-what-that-is.

“But if we open the pathway with the same set of spells….”

He let the actual words fade out. They’d been at it for a couple of hours, and Ichigo didn’t understand any more of it now than he had when they’d started.  It was just nice to hear them in the background, that familiar sound that he hadn’t realized he depended on for peace of mind until he’d lost it.

Everyone but Yoruichi had gone home after the meeting, although getting Isshin to leave had been a struggle.  He seemed to think that his presence would be soothing.  Chad and Uryu had frog-marched him out the door with Orihime close behind to make sure he didn’t bolt.  They were good friends.

He closed his eyes and drifted.

 Shiba-san. Can you hear me now, Shiba-san?

The voice was small and melodic, tickling the back of his mind like a distant whisper.

 Please, Shiba-san.  Please try to listen.

Ichigo’s eyes were so heavy, but he couldn’t ignore the voice in his head. If I’m not dreaming, he thought, then I can hear you.

He could almost feel the relieved laughter that burst in the back of his head. I don’t believe you’re dreaming, but after all this time I feel like I must be.  

Ichigo groaned.  Now his imagination was talking to him instead of just showing him horror movies on the back of his eyeballs.

 Not your imagination, Shiba-san, and I am very sorry that you’ve been subjected to so much unpleasantness recently.

Unpleasantness.  Well, that was one word for it.

Who are you? Ichigo thought loudly, and the voice tittered a cultured little laugh. You do not have to shout.  I can hear you perfectly well.

Fine, he thought again. Who are you?

And she told him.

***

“She says she is Shiba Shiori.  She married into the Shiba clan about the time my dad was born. She was Yamamoto’s niece or something.  I didn’t really follow that part.”

Kisuke sipped his tea.  If this got any more convoluted, though, he was going to shift to sake.

“She said she found me first, and the others followed her.”

Tessai grunted. “A relative of Yamamoto-soutaichou would probably be quite powerful in her own right.  It would make sense that she would have a greater chance of surviving the soul stripping process.”

“She said the reason I can hear her now is because there’s no more new reishi coming in, and she seems to be the most…  coherent of the souls there.”

They might be able to use that. If Shiba Shiori was this successful with contacting both Ichigo’s conscious mind, and the soul fragments clinging to him, she could be a gathering force.  That would solve the problem he and Tessai were having about how to separate Ichigo’s reishi from the foreign parts.

Yoruichi stretched out on the low couch next to them.  “Her name rings a bell, but I’m sure Kūkaku would remember her.”

Ichigo laughed. “She remembers both of you.  And all the trouble you caused.”

Yoruichi just grinned. “Youthful exuberance. Nothing more.”

That was it! How could he have missed it!

“We need to go to the Shiba compound.  Send a Jigokuchō.  We need Isshin-san, Kūkaku, and Ganju.  Tessai-san?  Gather up the gigai we were working on, and bring that, too.  Oh, and we should probably send a message to the Soutaichou that there’s a pair of murderers in the Kidō Corps, but we can deal with that later.”

He stopped and looked around.  Everyone was staring at him.

“What? Haven’t you ever seen genius in action before?”  He snapped his fan open and shooed everyone into action.

Ichigo didn’t move. “You’re sure this is a good idea?” It was clear he was nervous about leaving the protection of the sealed Shoten.

Kisuke looked him square in the eyes. “I promised I wouldn’t lie to you again, Kurosaki-san. Do you really want an answer to that?”

Ichigo sighed. “This is really going to hurt isn’t it.”

“Probably.” The blond nodded, but reached out a hand and patted his shoulder lightly. “Hopefully, it will be the last time, though.”

Yoruichi stood up and stretched. “Famous last words, eh, Kisuke?” She wrapped her arm around Ichigo’s waist and herded him towards the senkaimon in the training area. “At least we’ll all be here to tell him I told you so, Ichigo-kun.”

Ichigo brightened a little, and the blond hid his smile behind his fan.  It was good to see that he still had a sense of humor, even if it was at Kisuke’s expense.  

Time to work.

***

“So, I want you three to focus your reiatsu into the Reishūkaku.  Focus as much as you can, without blowing it up, of course.”  With Kūkaku, that last part was sometimes necessary.

Isshin and Ganju stood on either side of the glowing orb, their faces works of concentration, and when Kūkaku added her reiatsu, there was a noticeable rise of temperature in the room.  

Shiba’s really had more reiatsu than was good for them.  Or anyone, as they were discovering.

It only took five minutes for the three to begin sweating and shaking from the effort of pouring more reiatsu into the Reishūkaku, but Kisuke waited until he could feel the surface of it start to vibrate before he called a halt.

“That should do it.” Kūkaku handed the cannonball back to him, and he frowned.  This was the tricky part.  Or one of them, at least.

“Tessai-san, if you’d do the honors?” he asked, stepping away from the gathered Shiba.

Tessai silently nodded and then set to work, raising two interlaced shields that would protect those in the area from both physical and spiritual damage.

“It’s ready, Urahara-san,” he said, and the blond bowed a little in thanks.

He hadn’t focused any of his personal energy into the reishūkaku because it was important that it contain nothing but Shiba vibrations.  This part, however, was just a matter of wrestling it into shape.  Kisuke didn’t have a huge amount of reishi to work with like Ichigo did, but he was very good at using what he had.

Reishūkaku typically were enlarged after being filled with reiatsu.  This time, though, Kisuke was going to collapse it in on itself.  He needed it small enough to fit inside the gigai he’d constructed.

“Be careful Kisuke,” Yoruichi was standing next to Kūkaku, not touching, but comforting. “You’d be hard to replace.”

Kisuke nodded once, but this wasn’t about him.  It was about Ichigo, and he would be much harder to replace.

There, he thought finally. That should be small enough. Plus, nothing had exploded, which was always a good sign.

“Tessai-san,” he said, holding the now palm-sized orb up. “I think it’s safe to take the shields down now.”

***

Ichigo felt like he was going to throw up.  The feverish feelings were back and worse than ever.  His head was pounding like he’d drunk too much sake the night before, and the day before that, and the day before that.  He wasn’t sure he was going to make it through this.

It had been bad in the living world, the constant scratching at his soul, but here in Soul Society it was hundreds of times worse.  He supposed that made sense, though.  There would be weaker soul fragments that were never able to leave the area where they were killed, and now that he was there, right next to them, they, too, wanted to join the party.

Isshin notice him swaying on his feet. “Hold on, Son,” he said, slipping a hand under Ichigo’s elbow to steady him.  “Not much longer now.”

Ichigo laughed, a strangled sound.  Not much longer now. That’s what Isshin said to women delivering babies, or when he was putting in stitches in an emergency when he didn’t have anesthetic nearby. But what choice did he have.

Kisuke glanced over at him, concern clear on his face, but he didn’t stop what he was doing.  Tessai had placed the gigai in a chair, a gaping hole in the chest where the soul-chain of a real human would be. That was where they were going to put the reishūkaku.

“Tessai-san,” he said, holding the now palm-sized orb up. “I think it’s safe to take the shields down now.”

Ichigo let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.  He’d been scared that something would go wrong with this step and Kisuke would be hurt, but he didn’t have any other suggestion of what to do, so he’d just tamped the fear down into the box he kept all his Kisuke related feelings in.

Pretty soon he was going to need a bigger box.

“Okay, let’s see how this works.” Kisuke covered the distance to the gigai in a few steps and gently tucked the glowing ball of spirit into the opening.  Ichigo had never watched the animation of a gigai before, but he knew the basics.  This didn’t look like the basics.

The opening tightened on its own, pulling the not-skin together like a zipper over the reishūkaku, and the skin began to warm, but where a normal gigai would change to reflect the reiatsu powering it, this one didn’t take on any of the physical characteristics of the three Shibas that contributed to its activating force.

“Tabula Rasa.” Kisuke stood and watched the process for another long minute, before deciding it was safe to move to the next step.

Another wave of nausea and dizziness hit him, and Ichigo fell to his knees.

 Why? How could you? You killed him! I love you, please don’t do this. Please, no... Betrayer! You’re a weakling! Stand and fight like a man! Nii-san! Help me…  please help me…  someone.  Someone! Anyone!

The voices hammered at his mind, a hundred strong, every one trapped as they were calling out, pleading, dying.

“Hurry up, Kisuke,” he gritted out.  He didn’t know how much longer he could take it.  Gray was already encroaching on the edges of his vision.

The blond was busy finishing up whatever arcane crap he had to do, but he still managed to snark back at him.

“Youth. Always so impatient.” His voice was light and sing-song, but his face was transfixed on the gigai he was working on. “You must exercise restraint, Kurosaki-san. You can manage one more minute, can’t you. Just one more.”

Ichigo gritted his teeth against the disorienting feeling, and clung to the memory of Kisuke saying that to him before, holding him in his arms, carrying him to his bedroom, protecting him, the way he’d always protected him.

He loves you, you know. Shiba Shiori’s voice cut through the whispering roar. He thinks he’s protecting you.  Keeping you separate because separate is safe.  We did that with our family.  With our children.  We were wrong.

Ichigo rubbed his face. There were tears, squeezed out between tightly shut lids, and he could only suck in short panting breaths. He clenched his fists, trying to hold his body together against the strangling force of the Shiba power around his soul, and heard Kisuke’s voice.

“Focus your reiatsu, Kurosaki-san. Pull it tight into yourself.  Focus.” Strong arms lifted him to his feet and supported him as they brought the gigai next to him, and he looked around for Kisuke.

He was there, standing behind him.  His arms were the ones holding him up.  He always did that.  Maybe that’s why Ichigo wanted those arms around him all the time.

“Hey Kisuke.” It didn’t sound like his voice. “You know that hero worship thing you told me to get over?”

Kisuke’s grip tightened but he didn’t say anything.  

“This isn’t the way to convince me I’m wrong.” He coughed, and felt something suspiciously like blood on his lips. “Shiori says you’re wrong by the way.”

Kisuke grimaced, and Ichigo laughed a little.  Bastard was terrible with emotions. But that was okay. He loved him anyway.

“Is the gigai ready?” He gripped Kisuke’s hands so tightly he was surprised the blond wasn’t complaining. That wasn’t his way, though.

“Yes.  Are you?” Gray eyes bored into his and he thought, now or never.

“Always.  You know that.” He tried to smile, but his mouth wasn’t cooperating.

One of the hands holding him pulled back, and reappeared with a white handled tachi, a black tassel on the pommel and another symbol stamped on the side.

“I’m sorry, Ichigo,” Kisuke whispered, and then a white hot pain sliced through the world.

“You need to work on that.” Ichigo leaned in and pressed a kiss against his pale cheek, and let go.  He would convince him he was wrong later.

Much later.

***

“Sorry for the invasion, Shunsui,” Ichigo tried to push himself up from the cot Hanatarō had procured for him, but between his dad and Kisuke that idea was squashed pretty quickly. “But I get the impression that if we didn’t deal with this sooner rather than later, there wouldn’t have been as positive an outcome.”

Remembering the swirling chaos that had overcome him at the end still set his teeth on edge, and it would have happened whether he’d stayed in the living world or not.  It just would’ve taken longer for it to destroy him, and they might not have been able to help Shiori and the others.

“I have summoned the Miyake brothers as requested, but remember, the Kidō Corps is not actually under my jurisdiction.”

Yoruichi stepped forward. “Suì-Fēng has been informed of the charges being brought against them and will oversee this questioning.  I am certain that after all the facts are laid in front of her the the Commander-in-chief of the Onmitsukido will know what to do.”

When the Captain of the Second appeared, she had two tired looking Kidō Corps members in tow.

“I have brought the men as requested, Yoruichi-sama, Kyōraku Soutaichou, but I must insist on an explanation.  This is most irregular.”

Ichigo laughed and Isshin patted him on the shoulder.

“The assassination of a clan is quite…  irregular, indeed.”  His voice held none of its normal geniality, and Ichigo recognized the steel that was required for him to have achieved the rank of Captain of the Gotei 13.

“You’re saying that these two,” she pointed at the men who were now kneeling in front of Tessai, neither arguing or defending themselves, “killed the entire Shiba clan?”

“Well, their father started it, but yes.” Isshin stepped forward, his shihakushō, stark against the red in his neck and face. “Their father was proud to a fault.  He was convinced their ties to the Miyake samurai made them special, more honorable. More valuable.”

Ichigo hadn’t seen his father this upset since Aizen had been unmasked as a traitor.

“The truth was, that just made them vulnerable to Aizen, back when the bastard was setting his chessboard for taking over Soul Society. Tell me,” he spoke to the two men, “what did your father tell you?  That the Shiba had offended his honor in some way?  What?”

The two men barely turned their heads, but the larger of the two spoke.

“He was betrayed. The woman he loved, who had promised herself to him, was convinced to marry a Shiba instead. She humiliated him, and it was all for a Shiba.”

The second man moaned and dropped his head into his hands.  “Aizen….  Aizen told him that the Shiba were trying to destroy his honor. The honor of all of Soul Society.  He said they’d infiltrated the Gotei 13 to prevent law enforcement from being able to stop them, and that they were forcing women to marry into their clan against their will. Every sin against the soul was laid at their feet, with examples and proofs and a constant stream of inflammatory discourse until my father snapped.  He begged Aizen to let him help excise the cancer in Seireitei, to allow us to help, and Aizen was more than happy to agree.”

A hand reached out from one brother to the other, a clear attempt at comfort.

“It wasn’t until after,” the dark little man whose face had haunted so many of Ichigo’s nightmares looked like he was going to be sick, “after Aizen was defeated that the lies started to fade from our minds, and we became aware of what we had done as his puppets.”

They dropped their foreheads to the grass and prostrated themselves in front of the remaining Shiba.

“We have been living with the guilt of our actions since Aizen was defeated. Our father could not face himself after he realized that he had killed the very woman he’d loved, all because of his hurt pride and willingness to listen to Aizen’s lies.”

“Well, your family wasn’t alone in being fooled by Aizen,” Ichigo snorted. “The whole Central 46 paid for it, too.”

Kūkaku sucked on her pipe a little harder but didn’t say anything.  She didn’t have to.  Anger radiated from every line of her body, and Ichigo knew it was taking every ounce of her control to prevent her from pounding the two little men into so much Kidō Corps Dust.

“It makes sense in a way,” Kisuke said, his tone as noncommittal as ever. “The Shiba were the keepers of the gate to the Soul King’s palace.  If he could destroy the clan--or get someone else to do it for him--it would remove one more of the barriers to his end goal.”

Isshin’s fingers were so tight on Ichigo’s shoulder that he was certain he was going to have a bruise.

“How many did you kill.”

The brothers looked at each other and then back down at the ground.  

Ganju asked again, the pain in his voice undeniable. “How many did you kill?”

“I’m sorry.” The Miyake looked at him, shame in every line of their bodies. “It’s just that we don’t know for certain.  Our father was a madman.  He killed every Shiba he could get alone.  He slaughtered…  children.  My brother and I didn’t have his conviction. But from what he said, I would estimate twenty-four or five.”

A strange warbling voice piped up from behind them. “Thirty-one.”

Shunsui turned so quickly that his pink kimono flared. “Who’s there?”

A woman--or almost woman--stepped out from behind Tessai.  Her hair was long and black, pulled back in the style of many ages past.  Her face was smooth, but her eyes held the weight of age.

“Greetings, Kyōraku-Soutaichou,” she said, bowing deeply. “I am sorry to have interrupted, but the answer to the question Shiba Ganju-san asked is thirty-one.”

Shunsui took a few sliding steps towards the newcomer, and Ichigo could tell that he was trying to assess what or who the woman was.

“I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” he bowed low, a rakish smile offsetting the weighing glance. “You know my name, but I do not know yours.”

Kisuke moved forward and held a hand out to the woman. “This is, Shiba Shiori, and others, but Shiba-san is the strongest soul present in the gigai, so she is who the body attuned itself to.”

“A gigai?” Shunsui looked surprised. “Why would one need a gigai here?”

It was a good question. Spirits had no limitations in Soul Society, but Shibas were always difficult like that.

“If I could ask Miyake-san one more question, it might make the explanation of the other factors of this situation a little clearer.”

The Soutaichou nodded his agreement, but Suì-Fēng frowned.  “I don’t need any more information.  These men have already admitted to mass murder, to the attempted destruction of a noble house.”

Kisuke hummed and the tiny woman vibrated with annoyance.  Ichigo had a little sympathy for her.  No one could annoy quite like Kisuke when he was in a mood.

“That is true, yes.” The blond had dragged his fan out from somewhere and was lazily waving it back and forth. “The devil is in the details, though. Miyake-san.  Would you please tell the Soutaichou how you committed these killings?”

The older man sat back into his seiza, back straight, eyes forward as if he was braced for what came next.

“Aizen gave my father a tachi. I believe he stole it from the armory of the Onmitsukido.  Nobody but the Punishment Corps has needs for that type of weapon.”

Shunsui stilled. “What type of weapon?”

“A Soul Stripping weapon.” The man seemed to collapse in on himself with the admission. “We didn’t just kill them.  We destroyed them.  Everything they were.  Everything that was Shiba.”

Shiori laughed, a tinkling bell-like laugh that hid the edge of a knife. “Such ego.  Your father had it, too.  He couldn’t believe that I would choose someone other than him to share my life with.  Couldn’t believe that his samurai legends wouldn’t be enough to lure a woman with twice his power into his bed.   The fool.”

She held her hands out, and the long blue sleeves of her kimono spread like wings. “He tried to destroy us, but he made the mistake of the egotistical.  He didn’t understand that he was dealing with a power greater than any of his samurai ancestors knew.  He was dealing with Shiba.  My husband was a good man.  Our clan--my clan--has honor and power even after being targeted so shamefully.”

Tessai raised a hand. “Soul Stripping was one of the kidō that I outlawed in my time as Commander of the Kidō Corps.  It was only to be used as the most extreme of punishments doled out by the Punishment Corps.  Aizen took advantage of his access and liberated a few of the spelled weapons, including the one he gave to Miyake Rin.”

Shunsui and Suì-Fēng  shared a look.  “Where is this weapon now?”

“It is buried in the courtyard behind the main house of the Miyake compound.  It has been buried there since my father killed himself with it.”

A low gasp was heard.  He’d killed himself and destroyed his own chance of reincarnation because he couldn’t face what he had done, leaving his two sons to live with both his death and their own dishonor.

Shiori spat on the ground. “Ever the coward.  Condemning his own children with his poison, and then taking the easy way out himself.”

Kūkaku walked over and stood shoulder to shoulder to the woman who wasn’t a woman. “You put it well.  He was a coward, and if destruction was what he wanted, then that was what he deserved.”

The two women looked so much alike it was uncanny, even with Kūkaku’s wooden arm and Shiori’s unnaturally still face. Ichigo tried to imagine what it would have been like coming to a Soul Society full of Shibas. It would have been a much different place.  He couldn’t imagine Rukia or the Visored being condemned to death.  He couldn’t imagine them putting up with a lot of things.  That was probably as much a reason why they’d been targeted as their role as gatekeepers.

“So, Aizen killed Kaien and Miyako, and then arranged the murders of all these other Shibas.” Ichigo watched the faces around him as he summed up what they were all thinking. “And since he’s back in Muken for another 20,000 years, that kind of puts a damper on the whole find the bad guy and punish him thing.”

The Miyake brothers were still kneeling in the center of the crowd, and Ichigo waved a hand in their direction.

“These guys weren’t even in their right minds when they were involved.  I mean, Aizen managed to screw with everyone’s brains even after we knew he was a bastard.  Two mid-range Kidō Corps members? They didn’t have a chance against him.”

Suì-Fēng looked outraged. “Are you out of your mind? They slaughtered a noble house!” She looked at the Soutaichou. “Surely you see they must be punished.”

Shunsui shifted his straw hat and looked at the surviving Shiba. “What do you all say?  Is Ichigo right?  Were they not responsible for their actions?”

For a moment Ichigo thought they were going to fight him, but in the end they didn’t disappoint.

“I once said that if the shinigami that killed my brother said one word of apology for their actions I would forgive them. She had much more control over her situation than you’ve had over yours.” Kūkaku chewed the end of her pipe and stared at the men on the ground at her feet.  “I don’t like it, and I can’t say I like you, but I don’t blame you. Aizen is to blame, and perhaps your father for being an easy target to begin with, but not you.”

Ganju frowned at his sister and thrust both hands in his pockets. “Killing you won’t bring them back. Just don’t ask for more than that from me.  I’m not as forgiving as she is.”

Isshin stood there. “I think I would like to hear what Shiba Shiori-san has to say.”

The gigai turned to him and bowed before answering.

“We Shiba fight.  Face to face. With honor.  Killing you would bring no honor.  You are weak, but you are not our enemy.  Aizen is our enemy.  I look forward to the say that his soul is scattered to the ends of creation so that the Universe can make something better of the power he has wasted.”

“So,” the Soutaichou arranged his cherry blossom kimono carefully, “it seems to me that without the Shiba clan calling for blood, we really don’t have anything to pursue.”

Sui-Feng looked like she could bite through nails.  Ichigo expected her to stomp her foot in anger. “As Soutaichou you have to…”

Shunsui cut her off. “As Soutaichou, I have to follow the laws handed down to me by Central 46, and do what I believe is right in situations where there is no clear law in place. And, as far as I am aware, you are not in a position to contradict me, Taichou.”

The Captain of the Second clenched her fists and inclined her head. “As you say, Soutaichou.”

Yoruichi sauntered over to the younger woman and put a long arm around her shoulders.

“Come along Little Bee,” she said, steering her protege away from the group with a smile. “Let us spar like we used to.  I will let you exorcise some of your blood lust.”

She took two steps forward. “But you have to catch me first.”

Yoruichi disappeared in a flit of shunpo, and after a second of being clearly torn between staying and arguing with Kyōraku Soutaichou and chasing after her mentor, she gave into the inevitable and shunpo’d away as well.

The Miyake brothers stood shakily, and wiped tears from their faces.

“We can never undo the damage we have done to the Shiba.  We know that.   Your decision to allow us our continued freedom is worlds beyond anything we had a right to hope for.”

Kūkaku turned her pipe over and knocked the ash out against the heel of her sandal violently. “If you make a fuss about it, we might change our minds. It’s best if you just accept it and move on.  I don’t want to stew in this sorry pot of misery any more than I already have, and I can’t believe any of the others do, either.”

Shunsui motioned the men to stand next to him.  “I will escort these two back to their compound and retrieve the sword they described.” He tilted his head in a nod to Tessai.  “I agree that such a thing should not be easily accessed.  Or accessed at all.  But that is a question for another day.”

He turned to Kisuke. “Will Shiba Shiori-san be staying with us?  Or perhaps returning to the living world?”

Ichigo snorted.  The man was a terrible manipulator.  He quite admired that about the new Soutaichou.  It made the maze of Seireitei much easier to navigate.

“Shiba Shiori-san has graciously agreed to allow me to konso her and the other souls with her. Tessai-san and I have altered the kidō necessary and we believe it will free them all to enter into the reincarnation cycle.  They are Shiba, but some of them have been tied in a loop of suffering for fifty years now.  They are tired and wish to find peace.”

The Soutaichou bowed deeply to the Shiba-spirit entity. “In that case, please allow me to say that it has been a pleasure knowing you.  You have proven yourself to be as noble and as honorable as I know the Shiba to be.”

When he left, the gigai allowed itself to sag a little, and Kisuke led it to a low chair. “Is the reishi getting to you Shiba-san?”

The dark head nodded. “I am beginning to feel my grip slipping.  I believe that if we are to make the konso successful, we need to do it now.  I’m not sure I will be able to free the others if we wait any longer.”

Tessai stepped forward and handed Kisuke the white tachi, and with a minimum of fuss and a maximum of gentleness he touched the pommel to the gigai’s chest, right over where he had inserted the reishūkaku. And then, the gigai lost its features, sliding back into the blank slate it began as.

Shiba Shiori and the others were free.

Ichigo wasn’t ashamed to admit his eyes weren’t dry, but then no one else’s were either.

***

“Hey!  Can someone come hold the door for a minute?  My arms are full!”

Kisuke heard Ururu’s light steps as she ran for the back door. “Kurosaki-kun!” She sounded excited.  She had missed Ichigo. “I didn’t know you were coming.  Urahara-san didn’t mention it.”

Ichigo pushed in through the open door, a box in his arms, and toed off his shoes in the genkin. “I didn’t tell him. It was a surprise.”

A surprise?  It most certainly was.  After the trip back through the senkaimon Ichigo had collapsed, the exhaustion of it all finally catching up with him, but he’d headed home the next day and Kisuke had settled in to re-accustom himself to a quiet Shōten without Kurosakis and Shibas and even Shihōins for a while.

“Are you going to hold the door for your old man, Ichigo, or just leave me out here on the step like yesterday’s trash?”

Isshin’s voice boomed through the partially open door, and Kisuke’s eyes widened.  What were they both doing here?  Was something wrong with Ichigo again?

“Kurosaki-san,” he said lightly, coming around the corner to see the two men and Ururu wrestling with two bags and a large box. “Have you had a setback in your recovery?  I have sent Tessai-san out for a few things, but he should be returning any time now and can run another diagnostic scan of the wound pathways.  If we haven’t managed to seal them properly, we can try…”

“Oh yeah, Tessai knew I was coming.  He said he’d pick up pork for two more, since Goat Face was helping me bring some things over and we’d be here for dinner.”

Tessai knew Ichigo was coming and was making extra dinner.  That was…  unexpected.

“And just what are these things you’ve brought?” he asked, trying to figure out what was happening.

“Oh books, clothes, my computer…  you know, regular things.”

Ichigo carried his box down the hallway past Kisuke’s room until he reached a little store room at the end of the hall.

“I’m afraid I am still at a loss, Kurosaki-san.” He followed Ichigo into the small room only to realize that it had been cleaned out and a single futon folded in the corner.  Apparently Tessai had kept more than just today’s extra dinner shopping from him.

“Don’t try to argue with him, Kisuke.  You know what he’s like when he gets hold of something. You can’t change his mind no matter how hard you try.”

The blond looked at Isshin who had come up behind him and shook his head in confusion. “I am familiar with Kurosaki-san’s…”

“Ichigo’s.” The redhead interrupted.

“I’m sorry?” he asked, flustered.

“My name.  Ichigo.  You’ve used it before.  No sense in stopping now.” He turned back to the room, stacking his few things on a low table against the wall. “I’m going to have to get a rod to hang my clothes on.  I’m terrible with an iron.  Easier if I just hang things out of the dryer.”

Isshin made a noncommittal noise. “I don’t know.  A rod takes up a lot of room.  It isn’t like you’re going to have to iron much.  You only brought two pairs of trousers.  The rest are jeans and t-shirts, and even Yuzu doesn’t iron those.”

Kisuke pinched himself.  No.  Not dreaming. Maybe he was having a stroke.

Ichigo caught a glimpse of the look on his face and took pity on him.

“Kisuke, it’s like this.” He moved to stand in front of the taller man. “Last year when I told you I had feelings for you, you made it very clear that I should get over my case of hero-worship before I came back. So, I have.”

Isshin had dropped the two bags he was carrying in the corner and slid past the others standing in the doorway. He patted Kisuke on the shoulder as he passed and gave him a look of commiseration.

“You have?” Kisuke latched on to the last thing Ichigo had said.

“Yup,” the young man nodded. “Totally over the hero-worship thing.”

Kisuke felt oddly disheartened by that.  He’d wanted Ichigo to move on, he just didn’t realize how even just hearing the words would hurt.

“So, I am assuming you’re looking for a room to rent and Tessai has volunteered the Shōten?”

He hated feeling like he was missing something, but he definitely felt like he was missing something.

Ichigo moved closer and Kisuke imagined he could feel the warmth of him even at that distance.

“Not really,” he said, his voice a little softer.  “It’s true that I’m over the hero-worship thing, but that’s only part of what I felt for you.  A year hasn’t made that go away.  Hasn’t faded it at all, actually.  And, to top it off, this last catastrophe just reminded me how time can be stolen from us in the most bizarre ways.  I don’t intend to let that happen to me.  To us.”

Ururu appeared in the doorway with another small box, and Ichigo took it with thanks and put it on the table with the other things, before turning back to him. His expression was wide open, and Kisuke could see the intensity there, the sheer determination to make him understand, and he shivered a little at knowing he was that important to this amazing man.

“I know you.” Ichigo looked him in the eye until he had to look away. “Not Urahara Kisuke the hero. Not someone I’ve stuck up on a pedestal. Just you.  Urahara Kisuke mad scientist, shinigami, and handsome candy store owner.  And you know what?  I love you.  So, until you convince me that I’ve made a mistake, or I convince you that you’re wrong to not give us a chance, I’m moving in.  I’ve arranged with Tessai to pay rent, and I am on the chore schedule for dinner twice a week and whatever random errands need to be run. I don’t intend to push you, and if it becomes clear I’m not wanted, I am reasonable enough to understand.  I know that just because they labeled me savior of three worlds, doesn’t mean I appeal to everyone.”

Kisuke’s mind was spinning.  He couldn’t mean this.  Moving in?  His father would kill them.

“Isshin, surely you…” he started but the older Kurosaki cut him off.

“I told you.  You can’t reason with him when he gets this way.  He could give stubborn lessons to a mule.”

Kisuke laughed in spite of himself.  “Typical Shiba, hmm?”

Isshin shook his head. “Shiba?  No way.  This is Kurosaki through and through.  Masaki could make a grown man weep with frustration when she got an idea in her head, and did, on more than one occasion.”

“So… you’re alright? With this?” He waved a hand at the room, and the boxes, unable to find the words.

“Kisuke,” the big man was serious for once. “I have watched you save Ichigo’s life. I think I can trust you with his heart.” Then he patted the blond enthusiastically on the back and grinned. “Plus, as an older more experienced lover you can teach him a few things in the bedroom I’m sure.  I will have to buy a nice big bottle of that lovely almond oil Masaki used to…”

Ichigo moved between them and punched him. He laughed.

“My son! So strong in defense of his love! Your mother would be so proud.” He winked at Kisuke and then turned back to Ichigo in time to ward off another right hook. “I think that was everything you wanted to bring over.  Send me a text if you’ve forgotten anything.” He tried to hug the redhead, but he just got a friendly cuff on the ear for his efforts.

“Thanks Goat Face,” Ichigo said, and he clearly meant it.  “Tell the girls I’ll be back for dinner on Saturday, okay?”

Isshin agreed and let himself out, with a loud, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

And then it was quiet.

As soon as the door closed, Ichigo lost some of his bluster. “Look. I know this seems sudden, but after the whole thing with Shiori... I needed to take this chance.   Do you remember when I first came back? It was crazy. I was so miserable, but walking through that door, listening to you talking to Tessai, hell, sleeping in blankets that smelled like you…  I realized I hadn’t been that happy in a year.  I don’t want to go another year denying what I feel.  If that makes you uncomfortable, if you truly can’t see a future together, I’ll take my gear and go.”  He laughed a little sheepishly. “That’s why I only brought one box of books.”

Kisuke looked at the little room, and then back to the man in front of him. It was time to stop hiding.

“I sent you away once. I told myself it was for your own good, but it was still the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”  He leaned in and dropped the lightest of kisses on Ichigo’s lips, letting him feel how just that little act left him breathless and shaky. He stepped back and looked down into wide amber eyes. “I think we can make room for a few more boxes of books. Ichigo.”

Ichigo’s smile blazed at the sound of his name, and he slid his arms loosely around Kisuke’s waist. “That’s good.  I have a lot of books.  It may take some time to move them all in.”

Kisuke kissed him again and pressed their foreheads together, his heart more at peace than it had ever been.  “That’s okay.  We have time.”

#Bleach #UraIchi #happilyeverafter #ichigo kurosaki #Urahara Kisuke #ShibaLore