Disclaimer: Own neither Bleach nor Sandman. In case you couldn't tell.
Desire is... Exhausted.
There is always work for it, there's always a game- but when one is an Endless like Desire, those things are one and the same.
And it doesn't want to do it anymore.
It informs Destiny of its decision retire, and he accepted on one condition.
"You must find your replacement," he tells it. "A human with as little want for itself as you."
Which is just as hard as it sounds, Desire finds.
Three years it spends searching for a human that fit the parameters Destiny set, and three years are wasted. There is no such human in existence, and Desire doubts there ever will be.
Defeated, it resigns itself to the hard truth that no matter how weary it grows, there is no replacement.
Just as Desire comes to this conclusion, its phony heart nearly stops in its chest.
What in God's name is that?
Desire whirls just in time to catch sight of the retreating back of an orange-haired teenager turn into the park, a sketchbook under one arm and a whisky bottle in the other.
It follows him, testing it again.
The teenager wants for nothing- no sex, or drugs, or even the liquor in his hand. He wants no power, or prestige, or riches, or glory, or fame. He is quite content to settle down on the soft green grass and swipe a pencil across clean white paper.
Desire has found its human.
-ADA-
Ichigo finds himself being approached by the most beautiful creature he's ever seen. He can't tell if it's a man or a woman- its jaw is rather square, but its lips are full, its shape rather feminine despite its lacking breasts- Ichigo is quite aware of that, seeing as its wearing only a very tight black tank top and baggy dress pants. It's also barefoot, toenails painted a stunning red.
Rouged lips curl into handsome smile, and Ichigo feels his heart skip a beat for the first time in his life.
"Who are you?" He finds himself asking.
The stranger takes out a cigarette, still smiling, and lights it before sitting down across from him on the grass.
"I am the Endless Desire." It takes a long drag from its cigarette. "I wanted to speak with you."
With him? Why would the embodiment of Desire want to talk to Ichigo?
He looks down at his sketchbook and starts on that jawline- strong and proud as it is.
"I'll listen."
And Desire explains everything. Its work, its wish go on and rest at last, its search for a human without want, and finally, its reason for talking to Ichigo. He listens to it all, quiet and attentive, his eyes flicking between Desire's face and his sketchbook.
"I can understand why you're tired," he admits quietly. "But do you really want to leave behind your brothers and sisters? Do you think you'll be able to see them again?"
"The one I was closest to is already dead," Desire says after a moment's thought. "And the others... I will miss them, I think, but they will carry on, as they always have."
Ichigo nods and looks up from his sketch, setting down his pencil for the first time during their talk.
"I'll take your place," he tells it quietly. "I'm in need of something to do, anyway, what with the loss of my shinigami powers- perhaps your work will give me the necessary distraction I long for."
Desire blinks, then smiles.
"You're exactly what I want in a replacement," it purrs, crawling forward on all fours towards him, moving close enough to share his breath. "You'll do beautifully, even if you were once under my sister's command."
Desire presses its lips to his, and a smoky lust hazes Ichigo's brain.
When it pulls back, Ichigo can See.
"That felt..." He trails off, uncertain. His voice is a little higher than he remembers.
"You'll get used to it," Desire assures him. "It comes with the territory."
"So you've found him at last, sibling?"
Both turn to see a pretty young woman with wild dark hair and a swirl under her eye.
"Not a sibling anymore," Desire points out, and the girl nods in agreement.
"He's already changing," she says, and she turns to smile at the orangette.
"Hello, Ichigo," she greets happily. "I'm Death, your new big sister."
He dips his head, plump lips pulling into a soft, shy-seeming smile.
"It's nice to meet you."
"You're one of very few to say that," Death tells him. "I appreciate it." She turns to the old Desire. "Shall we?"
It looks back at Ichigo.
"You'll get the hang of everything soon enough," it tells him. "Whatever you will shall be."
"When you get the chance, go take a look at yourself," Death adds. "You've changed a good bit- I wouldn't recommend showing yourself to Isshin unless you have to."
Ichigo nods tears out the page he'd been sketching, handing it to His predecessor.
It takes the page and finds itself looking at a perfect rendition in pencil of its own face.
"It's for you," he says unnecessarily.
Its smile is mischievous.
"Thank you, my dear," it says, standing. It presses a kiss to his forehead. "You'll do perfectly."
And with that, what was once Desire takes Death's hand, and they move on, leaving Ichigo alone in the grass.
Smiling faintly, he pulls himself to his feet and lopes off in the direction of Urahara's house.
He doesn't notice how he draws the eyes of nearly every person he passes.
-ADA-
"Hi, Urahara-san, I'm borrowing your bathroom."
A voice that's familiar but not pinpointed floats through the blonde's kitchen, and he looks up from his lunch to see a flash of orange hair and a face that can't possibly belong to his former student.
"What-"
But then the bathroom door slams shut and Tessai's poking his head into the dining room.
"Was that Kurosaki-kun, boss?" He asks, looking surprised.
"I think...?"
"He hasn't been around in six months."
Urahara nods, thumb rubbing over the stubble of his chin absently.
"So why is he here now...?" He murmurs, more to himself than to Tessai.
"Should I make some tea then, boss?"
"Hmm?" Urahara looks up. "Yes, that would be perfect. I've been meaning to talk to Kurosaki-kun anyway."
Tessai nods and disappears into the kitchen, leaving Urahara to try and figure out what sort of trouble his old student is in now.
-ADA-
Wow. He's kind of... Hot.
Not that he wasn't handsome before, of course, but being Desire has taken away the true masculinity in his face and body, leaving him with wide, piercing silver eyes and wide, feminine lips. His jaw's softened, his eyebrows arches just enough to seem seductive even when he isn't trying to be. His hair looks windswept, curling attractively at the edges and parting naturally to one side. Absently, he runs his fingers through it and it grows, stopping it when it touches his shoulders.
His torso is thinner, with the faintest outline of pre-pubescent breasts pressing against his too-tight shirt. Girlish hips strain his already skin-tight jeans, though with a quick touch he reassures himself he has kept the bits he was born with. Furrowing his perfect brow, he snaps his fingers, changing his clothes from jeans and a t-shirt to something a bit... Better.
Namely, a black vest that hangs open over his bare chest and dress pants that hang dangerously low off his hips, revealing the top of the V leading to the apex between his thighs.
He smirks, batting long, thick eyelashes at his reflection and pouting rouge red lips experimentally.
The he giggles.
This is going to be awesome.