A/N: Hello. I wrote (am writing?) this as an homage of sorts to a favorite game series of mine, Yakuza or Ryu ga Gotoku. So, expect cops and expect yakuza. I thought it was kind of perfect how the Bleach universe could fall into a cop story. Please treat it kindly! I hope everyone can find something they enjoy about it. Thanks for reading!
God-fucking-damnit.
The digital clock in the car blinked 11:52. The stillness of the warm night swathed his head in a humid, bored, and sleepy haze.
"Eyes up, Kurosaki, or I can help ya with a taser to the balls."
"Fuck off, Renji." Ichigo grounded his retort around a yawn. "Tonight's been boring me to tears."
"Tonight and every other night," Renji muttered back, sighing, his arm lazily hanging outside of the open window as he absentmindedly drummed his fingers against the side of the patrol car.
Perspiration was collecting at his hairline in the face of the summer night in Lower Rukongai. Renji could feel his uniform adhering to him like a second skin. He fought the urge to peel it off.
Ichigo jerked his head in Renji's direction. "The pit stain look doesn't go well with you, you know."
"Shaddup," was Renji's only reply, followed by a half-hearted wave of his hand. "You know our uniform is the only thing that separates us from the punks that we're trying to catch."
There were no arguments from Ichigo, part of him felt too sluggish from the heat, and most of him didn't give two shits. Instead, being in the driver's seat, he rolled up all the windows, turned the key in the ignition and the car roared to life. Cool air from the vents caressed their faces. The whole time, Ichigo eyed Renji with a look that said like hell am I gonna melt to death with you in this car. He also saw Renji open his mouth to protest, probably something about saving fuel and money by not idling with the car on, but before any sound came out of it, the dispatch radio crackled and a voice spoke.
"Patrol Car #43105, come in #43105, do you read me?"
Ichigo grabbed the microphone and answered. "Rukia, what is it?"
"Officer Kurosaki, I am your squadron leader and demand to be regarded appropriately."
"You're withholding pertinent information, Madame Commander."
Ichigo heard the sound of Rukia clearing her throat. "Very well then. You two need to report to a house fire at coordinates 35 latitude, 139 longitude, the address is block 4, building 66, residential number 484 in the district of Lower Rukongai. Approximately five streets south and another four to the east. Fire department is already en route. According to close sources, arson is suspected.
"Ensure all civilians are evacuated to a safe area until the fire is contained. Review any casualties accordingly. The arson specialist and his team will arrive shortly. I myself will be arriving at the site with an ETA of six minutes. Stick around and assist as needed. Am I clear?"
Both men in the patrol car replied in the affirmative.
"Look, I know this is outside of what you two encounter on a normal night—"
"Don't be ridiculous, Rukia. This beats pulling rowdy kids off each other and walking old man Jin home from three houses down any night!" Renji didn't even try to hide his glee at the thought of something that added even a modicum of excitement to his nightly patrol.
"—but try to be on your best behaviors. And don't go sniffing out things that you're not supposed to!"
"Don't worry, we won't do anything that you wouldn't expect us to do," said Renji. His statement probably did everything but mollify Rukia, and whether it did or not Renji didn't pause to find out as he quickly shifted the focus to the task at hand. "Patrol car #43105, orders heard. ETA to rendezvous point: less than five minutes. Over and out. We'll meet you there, Madame Commander."
Renji ended the communication line and promptly flipped on the police lights, looking at Ichigo with almost a maniacal sort of glimmer.
"You heard the woman. We don't even have five minutes to get there. Step on it!"
"Oi oi, calm the hell down or else we're going to have a death before we even get there..."
Ichigo's muttering as he shifted the gear fell onto deaf ears.
Lower Rukongai was a part of town farthest removed from the Seireitei District. Not just in terms of distance, but also in terms of socio-economic standing.
The housing was mostly composed of tightly packed units clustered into buildings that were at most three stories high. The walls of these apartment complexes were stained and splotched with an unsightly brown, and the tattered metal tin roofing, oftentimes missing huge pieces and woefully lacking in adequate coverage, was patched together by strips of once colorful tarp that had faded but held steady in spite of wind, sun, and rain. And if it attested to the kind of fears the residents of the area had, most windows and entryways to homes had wrought-iron that barred windows and preceded doors as an extra insurance against break-ins and unwarranted entry.
Yet, despite the feeling of foreboding and general malaise that consumed Lower Rukongai, hope found its way through the cracks; potted plants flowered at doorsteps and strung along balcony rails were beads of lights and small children's trinkets strewn about.
Renji had said that he and Rukia grew up in this part of town. It might not always be pretty— "your next door neighbor might be packaging and distributing illegal contraband, the neighbor from two streets over might break into someone's house and fuck up the living room in his drug-addled state, and the asshole three doors down might be threatening his wife and children when he was drunk off his ass"— but even around these parts where crime and poverty were rife, its residents still had dreams and still did their damnest to make the best life. And in addition to the childhood memories he had there, it was important to Renji to do his best to protect the dreams that grew there, the people who lived there, and the innocents who got lost there. Renji might not ever say it to Rukia's face, but Ichigo had a feeling that the better days and fond memories of Renji's childhood growing up in Rukongai were deeply entrenched in the moment Renji and Rukia met. But it wasn't his secret to tell, so he left it at that.
Even without Rukia's directions, the house fire was hard to miss; the glow of the flames and the black pillar of smoke against the night sky was unmistakable.
And calling it a "house fire" might have been a misnomer. Due to the close proximity of housing in Rukongai, what might have started as a house fire quickly engulfed the neighboring homes surrounding it. When Ichigo and Renji pulled up, it was hard to say which home was at the address they were given seeing that three shanties were on fire, with the flames were trying to lick at a close-by apartment housing. Clumps of people were a short distance from the fire, some staring glossy-eyed at the firefighters spraying jetstreams of water and others talking quietly amongst themselves.
"Ichigo~!"
The way that the voice ended his name with a flourish was telling and made Ichigo's blood pressure rise just a tick.
"Hey! Ichigo!" The man addressing him starting walked towards him even as Ichigo's eyes were rolling so far back into his head, he was pretty sure he looked liked he had been possessed. "The least you could do is acknowledge your old man and superior! Or would you have preferred the usual flying kick to the face?"
"Captain Kurosaki? What are you doing out and about in the middle of the night?" Renji asked, just as surprised but less irritated as Ichigo.
"Yeah, old man. We received word that this is a case for arson, not traffic."
Captain Isshin didn't miss a beat. He flashed a grin. "Oh, didn't you know, boys? Not only am I head of traffic, I'm also head of arson since the two departments merged! So I'm just here, doing my job just as much as you two are."
Ichigo's left upper eye twitched at the extremely proud look on his father's face.
"Chief Inspector, we should communicate our findings promptly."
From behind Isshin emerged Ishida Uryuu, a member of the lab team of the Soul City Metropolitan Police Department.
"Uryuu, great thinking." Isshin glanced at the two officers. "Always great to have someone from the lab team here to collect samples for DNA testing. You know how they can be. Picky picky...Ah! Perfect timing! Rukia's here."
Another patrol car had arrived and Rukia emerged from it, hurriedly marching towards Isshin.
Rukia bent at the waist low enough for the tie of her uniform to touch the ground. "Captain Kurosaki, sir! I sincerely apologize for my tardiness. I came from the other side of town, and I-"
Isshin chortled heartily and slapped Rukia on the back so forcefully she nearly toppled over.
"Say no more, Rukia-chan! I get it, I get it, you were picking up the slack of these two chuckleheads over here, weren't you?" Isshin winked down at her and whispered, "Between you and me, I think you're the only one who gets things done around here-"
Ichigo was the one to cut in on Isshin's ramblings with a loud AHEM.
"Right. Back to the situation at hand." Isshin took a short glance at the fire behind him. His face pulled into a frown for a slight second. "You know what, Uryuu, why don't you take over for a bit. God knows you're probably better than me at detailing information. I've got to check on something..." And he slipped away towards the fire marshal.
Ishida was taken aback for a second and Ichigo mumbled something about flaky old men. Ishida quickly recomposed himself for the task at hand.
"From what Chief Inspector Kurosaki and I have gathered, our situation stands as such: at approximately 2335 tonight, a fire was ignited in block 4, building 66, residential number 484 in the district of Lower Rukongai. According to the neighbors in the surrounding area, two people were inside the residence at the time. However, authorities were not notified until the fire had been burning for approximately twenty minutes, when the fire had sufficiently spread to the homes to the left, the right, and behind it. Conveniently enough, none of the residents in the surrounding homes were inside at the time. Unfortunately for them, there is no home to return to now.
"Chief Inspector has spoken with the fire marshal, who said the fire seems destructive but they are managing it well with few injuries. Our informants in the area remarked that everyone in the path of the fire has been accounted for, except for the two individuals that the burning home belongs to. By the time the fire department arrived, it was too dangerous to go in to check for anyone. We will inspect ASAP once the area is deemed safe again."
"We'll be here all night," Ichigo grumbled.
Renji grimaced. Their night would consist of more waiting. But as more time passed by, any hope for the two people unaccounted for was fading fast. He looked over and saw Rukia's expression. She seemed inquisitive and deep in thought at Ishida's words. Rukia could smell something fishy a mile away, and that look indicated that this scene reeked.
It wasn't until half-past four in the morning that the fire was reduced down to soggy charred wood and warm twisted metal. Their first investigation into the former hovels lasted two full hours, after which Ishida excused himself back to headquarters to begin analysis on his freshly picked samples that he so carefully plucked as to not compromise the results. Ichigo and Renji were about to call it a night too, until Rukia, in her most saccharine voice that sent danger-shivers down their spines, said, "And where do you two think you're going?"
Embarrassingly, Ichigo's face contorted wildly as he stammered "Well uh...err...you see...we were..."
"...We were going back to write up our report for the night." Renji glared at Ichigo as if to say, could you sound any stupider? And Ichigo scowled and high-tailed it to the patrol car before Isshin could appear out of nowhere and give him a hard time as well.
"Good answer. I expect it when I come into my office in the morning. I am going to hang back and assist the chief as needed."
"Whoa. Rukia. You've been out all night, and you're still going in for a full shift in the morning?"
"As expected of me, Renji. So if you think you're going to slack and I won't find out, think again."
"Rukia. You can't." Renji said flatly.
"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Officer Abarai." The edge in Rukia's voice softened. "I'll be fine, Renji. Really. Now hurry and go get tonight's report done!"
Renji didn't like her response, but he chose to accept it as he followed after Ichigo.
The next time Ichigo looked up at the clock was when he was signing off his report to leave on Rukia's desk.
The telltale sign of it being eight in the morning was the noisy shuffling in of all the department heads to their post. He was familiar with all of them despite never working directly under them.
He recognized Captain Byakuya, head of the homicide division, as composed and unruffled as ever. His and Rukia's bullheadedness left no doubt that they were cut from the same thread, but if there was one man who could look at some gruesome shit and not even flinch, it was Kuchiki Byakuya. As he was entering this morning, he was speaking quietly and quickly on his cell phone. About what, it was best not to know.
Captain Hitsugaya was head of crimes against minors. The whole building seemed to think a large reason why he was impeccable at his position was that he reminded people of a child himself. (Which, if you asked Captain Hitsugaya about it, he won't directly say it but his response is generally along the lines of that is complete bullshit.) As per usual, he was being dragged in tow by his direct subordinate and the city's top interrogator, Matsumoto Rangiku. Her claim to the title was due to how she was keenly privy to the fact that fear and intimidation were not the only way to pry information out of someone.
Ichimaru Gin was head of vice and contraband. Slyer than a fox and more venomous than a snake, Captain Gin was always one step ahead of criminals.
The police force had arms that were less investigatory, also. These groups were to be deployed in situations that threatened the safety of the city. Zaraki Kenpachi and his lieutenant, Kusajishi Yachiru: Commander of the Riot Squad. Captain Sui-Feng: Commander of Special Squad for Terrorism Defense.
Popping in and out from time to time but not directly employed by the police department: the city's medical examiner, Kurotsuchi Mayuri and his ever-present, pathologist assistant "daughter" Nemu (probably adopted, Ichigo presumed. Because god knows what kind of woman would allow that kind of crazy to stick a bun in her oven), and chief medical officer of city-funded hospital Hospital of All Pure Souls, Unohana Retsu.
Going farther up the ladder, Kyoraku Shinsui was Chief of Police of Soul City Metropolitan Police Department, reporting directly to Commissioner Genryusai Yamamoto whom only Ukitake Jushiro, assistant and liaison to the Commissioner, and Commander Shinsui himself see regularly.
Nary a sign of Rukia or Isshin this morning, however. Tardiness might have been Isshin's trademark, but never Rukia's. Ichigo wondered whether the investigation could have taken that long.
"Damn, I am bushed," Renji stretched and yawned audibly. "Hey Kurosaki, you want some breakfast/dinner ramen? I'll even make it my treat since you almost didn't make it out of a routine arson case in one piece."
Ichigo stuck his tongue out and pulled down an eyelid with his pinky on his bandaged left hand in a rude gesture. "Hey fuck you, how was I supposed to know that cabinet was still flaming hot?"
While inspecting the burnt remains of the home, Ichigo had attempted to gain access to a fortified metal cabinet with sliding drawers that mostly survived the fire's ravage. Despite being flame-free for some time before he tried to yank it open, the handle still amazingly retained heat, and it wasn't until after the fifth hard yank that Ichigo realized his fingers and palm were blistering.
The infuriating part? Fucking drawer was empty.
"Yeah, if you want your precious fingers back, why don't you hit up Urahara Farmacia? I swear his shit does miracles. Just don't ask what's in it."
"My my, Ichigo-kun. Get yourself into some trouble again?"
"Agh, can you save me the lecture and get me something that will make my hand stop feeling like it's still on fire?"
Ichigo's hand was splayed open and uncovered on the counter of Urahara Farmacia. The tip and length of his fingers as well as over half his palm were an angry shade of red and looked even more grotesque with the bullous blisters filled with fluid underneath his skin.
Urahara took one glance at it and immediately piped up, "Just a minor second-degree burn. We'll get you started with a topical antimicrobial and slap on one of our (notquiteyet)patented synthetic membranes for accelerated skin formation, and you'll be right as rain by tomorrow." He whisked behind a doorway.
It wasn't that Ichigo found Urahara to be annoying per se. It was that Urahara hung out with his dad way more often than Ichigo was comfortable with, and since they were always with each other, they both seemed to have the same annoying tendencies: pushing Ichigo's buttons, taking life as one gigantic joke, and, Ichigo was sure but could never outright prove, they were both pathological schemers underneath their affable demeanors. And they fucking reveled in it.
"My sincerest apologies for the wait, Ichigo-san." Ichigo was directed through the exit that Urahara had just gone through. "Now, if you'll please enter my humble abode, I'll see to it that you receive proper treatment expeditiously so that you are able to return to your day."
"You mean I can't just take my medication and go? You know. Like a regular pharmacy?"
"Oh, I'm afraid not. I am administering your treatment personally as I can't risk having this kind of technology fall into the wrong hands. You know how it is."
Through the doorway was what looked to be Urahara's living area. The room was modestly furnished and simply decorated. In one end of the room was a set of tables and chairs. A couch sat in front of a television set that was softly showing the news. Next to a lush houseplant, a pot of tea rested on an end table in the corner.
"Please, have a seat."
Urahara set a cup of tea down at the table where he intended Ichigo to sit. Next to his spot, which Ichigo assumed was where Urahara would sit, was a magnifying lamp and, laid out neatly, sets of tweezers, gauze, some gloves, an aquamarine-colored container, an amber bottle, and a small tray about an inch deep filled with a bright pink liquid.
"This...doesn't seem like a service that regular pharmacists provide, either."
Urahara chuckled. "I think all pretenses of Urahara Farmacia being like a regular pharmacy was out the door the moment you stepped in. Besides. I think I fancied myself as a surgeon in the past life, don't you think?
"First, we'll remove any fibers and materials you would find to be...undesirable to be under your skin. Then, we sterilize the surface before attaching the synthetic membrane. Easy, right?"
Ichigo held out his injured hand, and Urahara delicately began canvassing it under the magnifying lamp.
"...Next in news, two deaths in Lower Rukongai as a fire razed in the early hours of the morning."
The image of the news anchor on the television switched over to one of Isshin, the description underneath of face reading "Chief of Traffic and Arson". Ichigo could also see half of Rukia's face on the screen as she stood next to Isshin.
"We were able to confirm the deaths of Inoue Takeshi and Inoue Ai from minuscule bone samples collected from two charred shapes of human remains. However, we can neither confirm nor deny evidence of foul play. We will escalate and get to the bottom of this case so that the souls of Mr. and Mrs. Inoue may rest in peace. The Soul City Metropolitan Police Department commends and thanks the efforts of the Soul City firefighters who quickly put out the fire and kept the casualties to a minimum. Their prompt and effective response embodies the spirit and fevor of our people."
The image of Isshin on the television was replaced by a young woman no greater than twenty-eight years of age. She spoke into the microphone the field reporter was holding in front of her.
"My daughter and I were sitting on the balcony when we saw the fire spreading. Our apartment complex is only five houses down, so it wasn't hard to miss the flames. And the smell. I immediately called the authories, but twice I was disconnected, and once they even put me on hold! Can you believe that? Places that exist to protect us! I went next door to ask my neighbor, and he said he had the same problem, too. Maybe if they had only gotten my call, two people would be alive right now."
Next was a stout, frazzled-looking older man.
"Soul City is going to hell in a handbasket. You wanna know why it took so long for someone to come out here? Because the city officials had orchestrated it all. They see Rukongai as a big, fat shitstain on their pristine city. So they let us burn. And once all the rats have been chased out, the fat cats move in with their fake glittering skyscrapers and high-rises while thousands are left homeless. Well they can just go fu—"
The news anchor returned. "In the event of this tragedy, we would like to take the time to remind everybody to take care of items in your home; scraps of trash, cigarette butts, and even rogue candles can be a fire hazard. Please be mindful of the placement of your belongings, especially in this summer heatwave..."
Ichigo's attention was torn away from the television as a yelp escaped from his lips. He turned back to see Urahara's tweezers gripping a soaked gauze as he used it to spread a cold, burning, stinging! liquid over his wound.
"Oh, did I forget to tell you? This is going to sting a little."
"No shit?" Ichigo grounded out through clenched teeth.
"Now, don't wiggle around too much when I put this membrane on unless you feel like the young ladies around town would like your gnarled, crusty hand holding theirs."
From the tray, using two sterile forceps, Urahara lifted the thin, gossamer membrane from its medium. It was about the size of Ichigo's hand and looked exactly like what a perfectly square sheet of skin would look like if it was peeled off of someone all in one piece.
The moment it touched Ichigo's blisters, his palm went from feeling extremely cold to extremely numb before a tingling sensation took over. It was not unlike how it felt to have his foot fall asleep, except all the sensations were happening within a ten-second time period. He watched Urahara flatten out any wrinkles and cut off extra pieces that didn't fit his hand, but the feeling did not register to his appendage. It was a strange and not entirely pleasant experience.
"The feeling should wear off within the hour. In the meantime, while your skin and nerves are regenerating, we're going to cover your hand in this gel and wrap it up so as to not disturb the healing process. After twenty-four hours have passed, you may unwrap your dressings and find your hand to be as good as new, smooth as the day you were born. The gel will also have dissolved the synthetic membrane, so there won't be anything 'plastic' about you." Urahara looked proud of himself.
"Thanks, Kisuke." Ichigo reached for his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"
"Consider it a favor to your father. After all, he would probably find you more useful with full use of both your hands..."
Ichigo shook his head. "That's unacceptable. I don't do well with owing other people something. Or making other people bear my burdens for that matter."
"...But since I had a feeling you'd say something along those lines, I have a proposal that you pay me back with a drink from Soten Kisshun."
At Ichigo's quizzical look, Urahara continued. "A speakeasy on the edge of the Seireitei District and the district of Hueco Mundo. Funny how the secretive nature of a speakeasy is betrayed by how popular it is. Even funnier is the kind of crowd it attracts: high-ranked government officials, the easily bribed and the easily corrupted, even...yakuza types. They come there mainly for one attraction, and...well, I'll let you find out.
"So what say you, Ichigo? Buy me one of their killer cupcake martinis at The Soten Kisshun and we'll call it even. I promise I won't be the only one to get a treat."
"Are you sure I can't just pay you, because this seems like a lot of trouble. By that I mean you're going to drag both our asses into trouble."
"And I keep telling you that I don't create trouble, it always seems to find me."
"Besides, it's hard for me to find a free night. Or did you forget I'm part of the night crew?"
"Well you're not working tonight are you?"
Ichigo's mouth opened and closed soundlessly a few times.
"Then it's settled. Meet me here at seven, and we'll be on our way."
A bell chimed from the pharmacy area. Urahara excused himself.
"Welcome to Urahara Farmacia, for your eastern, western, and holistic medicinal needs!...Arthritic problems, you say? Conventional medicine has been ineffective? Might I suggest alternative methods...I have types that can be orally ingested, inhaled, or even topically applied..."
The Seireitei District, if you asked anybody, was the crown jewel of Soul City. Clusters of tall buildings made of white marble and smooth glass. High-end shopping and restaurants on every corner. Fountains spraying cool, clear water that sparkled in the sun. Children frolicking happily in parks, women chatting excitedly about their weekend, men cheerily riding their bicycles down smoothly paved avenues. Every advertisement that featured something perfect came straight from somewhere in Seireitei. Minimal editing required. If Seireitei was the spirit of Soul City, then stands at no surprise that the central government of Soul City was in the heart of Seireitei.
Over to the west was the District of Hueco Mundo. Seireitei' s uglier, grittier, shadier stepsister. There was only one way to describe it: Soul City's unabashed red-light district. Sinning was rampant but it didn't run unchecked; just because the people there didn't subscribe to the idea of city policemen enforcing the law on them didn't mean there was no law they would be subjected to. To illustrate this point, no policeman of sound mind would waltz into Hueco Mundo with the intent of waving his badge, but he may enter with the intention of a drink, a smoke, and a fuck. No violence, no judgement, no forcing. This was all possible under the regime of the yakuza that ruled Hueco Mundo. Rumor has it that the underground network that snaked all throughout the district like veins led to a single core: Las Noches, the yakuza headquarters and sanctuary, inaccessible to regular citizens and never spoken about by those who have seen it.
These two seemingly opposite pieces of the city existed right next to each other. Side by side, no buffer in between. And at the interface of the two districts, they melded into a cacophonous sort-of harmony that revolved around money, sex, and the nebulous concept of status and power.
The sleepy suburb district of Karakura was directly east of Seireitei, and so when they headed closer towards Hueco Mundo, Ichigo and Kisuke bore witness to the transition from the picture-perfect lawns and large family homes of Seireitei to establishments that could only be found as they headed more westward. The transition was gradual, but it was by no means subtle. On the drive towards The Soten Kisshun, here is what Ichigo saw: a pet shop with cute animals playing in the display window. A smoothie shop advertising health-boosting benefits. A cafe filled with patrons on their laptops and reading. A dog clothing boutique. And then, with an obnoxiously big sign that protruded off the side of the building, an "ALL NUDE ALL DAY~︎ MASSAGE PARLOR". A few more innocuous businesses before a hostess club popped up. And next to it, a pachinko parlor. A strip club. Love hotels started appearing. It continued like so until the only businesses outside of those for adult entertainment were bars and restaurants.
Urahara and Ichigo didn't have to venture too far into Hueco Mundo. In fact, according to map borders, they were technically still in Seireitei. And it showed, because The Soten Kisshun was nowhere near like the dumpy bars and dives that usually sprouted in Hueco Mundo.
The Soten Kisshun was actually located on the second floor of the building it occupied, above an udon shop that was currently closed at the current time of day. Its only entrance was accessible through a back alleyway that was solely illuminated by the glow of a humming vending machine. The door was painted red and embossed with detailed gold trimmings the shape of flowers, which would be something to admire if it wasn't for the large muscular man standing in front of it. His skin was the color of caramel coffee, and his dark eyes were nearly completely hidden by his hair. When he spoke, his voice was deep and rumbling, and Ichigo got the impression that although he was a man of few words, what words he did say were always impacting.
It was almost anticlimactic to see Urahara address the other man, who was a good half-foot taller than him and a great deal more ripped, so casually.
"Good evening, Sado-kun. I reject. Does that work for you?"
Sado-kun's head bowed in a small nod. He stepped aside and opened the door for Urahara. "It's good to see you again. Friend today?"
"Close friend's son. Thought he should get out more."
"Don't cause trouble for her."
"Wouldn't dream of it. Right, Ichigo?"
Ichigo hummed a shaky response in the affirmative that he tried to play off as clearing his throat. It wasn't that he was afraid of Sado, but there was something intimidating about a man who looked like he could snap Ichigo's spine over his knee and throw him over the roof out to the other side of the street if he "caused trouble for her," whoever "she" was.
Urahara had mentioned that The Soten Kisshun was popular, but it was a lot less crowded than what Ichigo had expected. Less crowded, and a lot quieter. Groups of people, dressed casually but still in their finer silks, were gathered together, smiling and chatting over their martini glasses in the plush booths that lined the back wall. Some were playing darts. Others were playing billiards underneath a softly glowing lamp hanging above, their leather shoes tapping the immaculate hardwood floor as they shuffled about. Near the bar, the piano was being played by a frighteningly pale man with a perpetually deadpan expression. His forest green eyes never moved from his slender hands as they danced across the piano keys.
Perhaps the loudest and most crowded area in the establishment had to be by the bar. Shelves with various bottles of different shapes, sizes, and color containing spirits and liquors lined the western wall from floor to ceiling, and the dark granite counter surrounded the bar area on all sides in a half-square. Many were clamoring around it, most likely ordering drinks. The bar seating was all occupied, mostly by men, from what Ichigo could tell.
The Soten Kisshun was a nice place. A cozy place. A place to unwind and feel good about yourself. And Ichigo had to say, he could see himself hanging out in a place like this, knocking back a few drinks with Renji and Rukia, complaining about the shitty day they had or celebrating a promotion.
"Why don't you find us a seat by the bar and get yourself something to drink? I hear the barmaid is quite the mixologist. I'm going to put in some...requests for the gentleman playing the piano."
Ichigo shrugged and started towards the bar, doubtful one seat, much less two, would even free up. As he approached, however, a short man in a brown suit pushed a generous amount of money towards the center of the bar, smiling and waving as he hopped off the stool.
"Thank you for your time, Inoue-san."
"Thank you for your patronage, Otogi-san!"
A light and airy voice drifted to Ichigo's ears. It sounded almost like a melody.
Thankfully, he reached the newly opened bar stool before anybody else could, and he seated himself. Now all he had to do is wait for another one open. But in the meantime...
"Hello. Welcome to The Soten Kisshun! I'm Inoue Orihime. Please let me know how I can be of service to you!"
With her introduction, Orihime slightly bent at the waist into a small bow.
If part of Ichigo hadn't been so struck by the barmaid's greeting, he would have been offended for her at the way the man next to him quietly groaned oh baby, turn that around for me some more, loud enough for Ichigo to hear it, but not her.
The other part of him? Well, it was just about ready to die at the next thing that came through his lips:
"Th-thanks. You, too."
END CHAPTER ONE.
A/N: Yes, I know what you're all thinking. And the answer is, yes, Kisuke does sell weed. Or an equivalence to it that exists in Soul City.
See you next time!
(P.S. I'm trying to keep this somewhat reflective of the modern Japanese and American lifestyle while taking liberties as Soul City is a fictional place. I apologize if it throws you off.)