The guy's been following Karin for weeks. Ichigo's got proof; he's seen him at the soccer games, hanging around the school, taking photos with his shiny new phone when he's got the chance. Karin's thirteen, barely. This guy's forty if he's a day.
'This guy', Ichigo finds out after some research, is wanted in three different countries, for crimes that make his stomach roll. 'This guy' is a fucking pedophile. 'This guy' is named Moshinaga Kin'ichi, and he's going to know Ichigo's name.
For about a second.
The problem with Ichigo— and this has always been a problem— is that, waspish and scowling person that he is, he never really gets angry. When he gets angry, bad things happen. Very bad things.
His sixth grade teacher's car accident after she'd told Tatsuki that nobody could never love such an ugly girl. His dad's fingers, now crooked and curved thanks to being smashed twice by a door after throwing an empty beer bottle at seven year-old Yuzu's head. The girl, Takanawa Kyoko, who spread the rumor that his mother killed herself because his father was having an affair, found tied to a telephone pole, mouth sewn shut and blindfolded.
Ichigo makes rules for himself for a reason.
Most people don't connect him to the awful things that happen, mostly because it's very hard to tell that anything's amiss. Ichigo's a good liar, and an even better actor; nothing ever comes back to him. Not really. And besides— how can there be suspects, when the ones so inspiring of his ire can't see him, never hear him? Only Isshin has ever seen him, and Isshin knows full well he deserved it.
Just like the rest.
With Kin'ichi, though, the rage in Ichigo is far more potent. This isn't just a slur, or a mistake. This is predetermined, this is disgusting, this is Karin as a target.
Kin'ichi is going to see Ichigo's face. He's going to know Ichigo's name.
He isn't going to live to tell anyone.
Some people knows what it looks like. His mother, certainly. His father, too, after Ichigo doled out his punishment. It's all in the little things— the way he speaks, the way he laughs, the way he's a little more careful than usual around the people he loves, gentle and guarded and distant.
Isshin sees it all.
Being the recipient of one of his son's punishments, Isshin knows exactly what to look for. The edges in his smiles, the stiff, precise movements, the ice in his eyes. Isshin's not sure who the target is, but he knows it will not end well for them.
He won't get involved, of course. It's not his place, it's never been. Isshin may have been head of the Shiba clan, but he's not a Shiba anymore, and his children never were. The head of the Kurosakis has always been Ichigo, from the moment his mother died.
That doesn't mean Isshin won't let his son torture someone without backup, though.
Kisuke will understand best.
Ichigo peels the bastard like an orange.
Not all the way— he leaves most of his torso in tact, and part of his face. It's sort of like the cat dissection Ichigo did, back in his sophomore year of high school, save for the fact that the cat was already dead.
It's likely Kin'ichi will die of infection if left untreated (which it will), but Ichigo take the precaution of cutting off his genitals anyway.
Ichigo lets him down from where he's hanging once he's finished, turning to the computer he's carefully taken from Kin'ichi's home. He boots it up, breaks through the laughable encryption, and starts prying.
The photographs are… Gruesome. Karin seems to be among the oldest of the pervert's personal files, and Ichigo almost cringes when he finds photographs of her through the window of the bathroom. The file even has her name on it— thoughtful pedophile, to remember the names of his victims. It'll be useful for the police, Ichigo's certain.
There's a printer in the basement of this unused office building, and Ichigo lets it do its work as he finally decides to acknowledge the third person in the room.
"What do you think?"
There's a beat of silence, and then the sounds of wooden shoes on concrete.
"You would do well in the Second."
Ichigo lets a small smile flit across his face, fiddling with a strip of skin that— if remembers correctly— used to be on Kin'ichi's right cheek.
He waits for Kisuke to come closer.
He doesn't.
"You're father said you were angry, and that it would be best if I kept on an eye on you," the blond remarks quietly. "He also told me not to interfere."
"He would know best that my anger's well-deserved," Ichigo answers softly. "It always is."
"Do you get angry often?"
The orangette shakes his head.
"I want to," he confesses. "A lot. But when I get pissed… I have rules."
"How many?"
"This will be my fourth."
Kisuke looks to Kin'ichi, still moaning, still twitching, still weeping on the floor.
The fact that the man hasn't fainted is impressive, but then, Ichigo probably made certain he wouldn't.
"This is personal."
"It always is, but in this case, it could be argued for the greater good."
Ichigo waves a hand at the computer.
"He was targeting Karin. He likes athletic types, though he seems to prefer them younger."
Kisuke glances at the screen. File upon file are open, with pictures of little girls in uniforms— soccer, swimming, cheerleading— and then no clothes at all.
He looks back to Ichigo.
"This is wrong."
"I don't care."
"You're very calm about this whole situation."
"This is how it always is. You saw. With Aizen." Ichigo pauses. "I guess I should consider this my fifth, then."
"Are you a sociopath?"
Ichigo shakes his head.
"No. I'm just a vengeful person." He clicks his tongue. "And a very protective big brother."
Kisuke swallows.
"What are you going to do now?"
"Cut off his hands, feet, and tongue, leave him here until he dies of whatever takes him, then tuck him back into his bed like I found him."
"And those photos?"
"I plan on redecorating his room."
"Do it, then," the blond says shortly. "Finish what you need to do, then come home with me. We need to talk."
"We don't 'need' to do anything." Ichigo gives him another smile, this one a touch softer than the other one. "But I'll indulge you."
Kisuke watches impassively as Ichigo works, pulling a small hatchet from a plain black dufflebag and tossing the spare parts into a nearby bin. For the tongue, he uses garden a wrench, tearing it out with a sort of vicious force that makes the shopkeeper want to wince.
"What happens if he's found?"
Ichigo makes a noise, then reaches into his back pocket, brining out a small, hypodermic needle. He jams it into the bared muscle of Kin'ichi's calf.
"Hallucinogen," he says shortly. "It'll last for three days. I give him two."
Tossing his tools back into the duffel, he strips of the gloves and clear raincoat he'd been wearing and shoves them in as well before zipping it shut and shouldering it.
He glances at Kisuke expectantly.
"So, your place then?"
By the time they get to the shop, Ichigo is shaking. He wastes no time, rushing to the bathroom with less than a glance in the direction of the children.
He doesn't shut the door properly in his hurry to vomit, retching and clutching to the toilet bowl like it's the only thing keeping him grounded.
Cool hands curl over the back of his neck, familiar ones. He knows it's Kisuke without looking.
"Kurosaki-san? Are you alright?"
Ichigo forces himself to nod.
"Takes a while to hit," he gasps out, rolling to one side. "Once it… Subsides."
Kisuke doesn't say anything, just steps back and waits until Ichigo stops shaking.
"I think a bath is in order," he murmurs finally. "I'll call your father and tell him you'll be spending the night. Do you want tea?"
"Can I just go to bed?"
"Not yet. I want an explanation."
Ichigo lets out something that might be meant as a laugh.
"You want assurance," he says. "Are you afraid?"
Kisuke stands.
"Bathe," he orders. "Tea will be waiting for you."
He shuts the door behind him, and after a minute, Ichigo pulls himself to his feet.
He turns on the water.
"So you killed him because you noticed his interest in Karin."
Ichigo's dressed in an old pair of sweatpants and a wife beater Kisuke scrounged up from God knows where, hands clasped around a teacup.
"This one was the worst. First one I wanted dead." Ichigo sighs. "I'm not a good person, Urahara-san. I have these thoughts a lot."
"How often?"
"…"
"How often?"
The teen shifts.
"Every time Rukia hits me. Every time Ishida implies I'm an idiot. Every time I'm underestimated." He sips his tea, scalding his tongue on the bitter liquid. "I thought of having your tongue split and your eyes gouged out with hot pokers when I realized how little you prepared me for what was to come when I went after Rukia. Luckily, though, I restrained myself. It's stressful, but it's for the best."
Kisuke thinks of the unnatural lines already present in the teen's face and how similar they are to the few on the face of his favorite catwoman.
"This doesn't happen often, you said."
"It's a buildup. I keep it until I can't anymore." Ichigo runs a hand over his face. "Afterwards, though… I hate myself. I hate that I've hurt them."
"To be fair, the man in the warehouse has reason to hurt," Kisuke offers. "I'm sure they all do."
"Don't try to sugarcoat it, my actions are always selfish, in the end."
"Fine, I won't."
"I'm not a good person, Urahara-san."
"Don't be stupid."
Ichigo looks up sharply, warningly, but the blond continues.
"You just threw up over a pedophile who was scouting your sister," he says. "Granted, the punishment was… Grotesque, but it was well-deserved. And yet your fretting.
"You just killed someone, and you care that you've done it. You give a damn about the fact that you have extinguished a human life. Bad people don't care much for that sort of thing, believe me."
"…" Ichigo sets down his tea.
"When I asked if you were afraid of me, you didn't answer."
"Because I wasn't."
"I'm dangerous."
"So am I. So are most with whom I associate with— in some ways, you could argue Yoruichi-san has done worse than what you've done in that basement. You could argue that I have done worse."
"I'm seventeen."
"And you're possibly the most damage creature I've ever had the chance of meeting." Kisuke sips his tea. "It was surprising, but in the end, it doesn't mean much. Will you be alright tonight?"
He means to sleep. Ichigo's nightmares are bad most days, but tonight, they'll likely be worse.
He shakes his head and stands.
"I'll be fine. I'm tired, and no doubt I'll be asleep in minutes anyway. Thanks, Urahara-san."
The blond watches him go, eyes shadowed, and for once, decides he can leave his lab be for the night.
The sounds coming from Ichigo's room are quiet, desperate, and muffled by a pillow.
Kisuke knows those sounds. He's listened to them— made them— a thousand times.
Quietly, he slides open the door and steps in, bare feet against cool wood.
"Kurosaki-san?"
There's no answer. Ichigo's still asleep, curled up under the blanket like a child.
Nightmares, then. Kisuke expected them.
Ichigo has them a lot, more than Kisuke thinks a normal boy ought to have.
Crossing the floor carefully, Kisuke kneels by the futon, one hand stretched out to grasp Ichigo's shoulder.
The teen jerks awake with the touch.
"Who— Urahara-san?"
"You were having a nightmare," Kisuke murmurs, mindful of the sleepy slur and the tight grip Ichigo's found on his wrist. "Are you alright?"
The orangette loosens his grip, drooping back onto the pillows.
"… Hate sleepin' alone."
Ah. Well, that explains a lot, including the new and indulgent habit Ichigo has formed since the war of bringing home strangers to… Well, admitting that Kisuke's been watching that sort of thing would make him sound like a pervert, honestly— even if it was just out of worry.
He pushes back the blanket, making Ichigo grunt a protest at the sudden breeze against his neck and stomach.
"Stop complaining, I'm here." In Chappy pajama bottoms and faded university t-shirt, yeah, he's here, and he'll be made fun of in the morning, if his nose doesn't get broken first.
"Oh. 'Kay." Instinctively, the teen moves to make room for him, latching on like a second skin once he's in place.
"Night, Ura—" he's cut off by a yawn. "Hara-san."
Oh, that's just adorable, just like when Urahara still babysat him. He was a cute little tyke.
"Good night."
Ichigo falls right to sleep and surprisingly, so does Kisuke.
A/N: Rewatched Hannibal and Sherlock this week… Then this happened in two hours. I have to say I rather like the idea of a vicious Ichigo— if a hollow's supposed to be the personification of the 'dark side' of a person's soul, it only makes sense Ichigo occasionally does some really fucked up shit. Right?
Anyway, platonic sleeping is my favorite kind of sleeping, and my headcanon for Ichigo is that he's an incredibly tactile person who enjoys hugging and touching and generally existing physically close to other people. Maybe if he got more hugs (and information) from his Dad before Ginjo ripped him a new one he wouldn't have cried like a bitch, but that's just an opinion.