Title: Mirage
Author: Me
Rating: T (M if I continue with this particular line of thought)
Pairing: IchiHitsu Disclaimer: Bleach and characters not mine... D8 Nooooooooo...
Summary: "...you would be surprised at how many people who -don't- need my services end up in my office anyway..."
Warnings: Language (for now)
AN: U.P. is being a stink... Or rather, Aizen's cooperation... This is just a random idea I had. Typed everything up at work, so it's not perfect. Is it worth going further? Please let me know in all of your reviews, follows and favorites! -Bows-

-Cuts the cherryribbon-

Ichigo glanced across his darkened office, away from the intense glow of his computer screen, as three consecutive knocks on his door indicated his next scheduled appointment. He glanced at the clock. Correction: his next and last appointment of the day, as it was five in the afternoon, merely half an hour before his shift finally ends and he can quietly celebrate his birthday as a mini-vacation over the weekend. He was never one for huge parties, not even in high school. Tatsuki and Orihime could attest to that.

He turned on his desk lamp to medium, not enough to a blinding light, but just enough to make sure the monitor wasn't the only source of light in the room. There was no need to make his client nervous or uneasy with thoughts of the orange-top being some sort of cave-dwelling occult worshiper.

The standard-issue office chair squeaked in protest as he lifted himself from an hour's worth of uncomfortable positions cramping up his muscles. Wincing, he instantly started to walk the cramp out, dusting off imaginary specks of dust and strings of hair as he walked toward the door across his office. It wasn't a huge room, but it wasn't a small cubicle, either. The carpet was a soft grey, and the walls a dusky blue. He'd wanted to paint it a darker, richer blue, but his boss - the cheap bastard that he is - wouldn't allow him that. The desk itself, and the shelves around the room, were modern black and steel, holding up picture frames, books and various knickknacks he'd come to collect. Behind his desk was a wall of glass, floor-to-ceiling windows that were hidden behind horizontal blinds - another tacky sight. Nope, not allowed curtains.

Aside from the cozy couch against the wall next to the door, and the two chairs on the other side of his desk, that was the complete illustrations of his home away from home. He'd lkost count of how many times he had slept on that couch in this past week alone. He was looking forward to his soft, cozy bed. All he had to do was get through this last meeting, someone named Hit-sugia, or something...

Grabbing the cold handle, metal creaked as he pulled the door fully open, letting the harsh, overhead hall lights glare into his dilated eyes. At first he was blinded, and he had to resist raising his hand up to shield his eyes from the offending brightness. When his eyes adjusted long enough for him to stop squinting, he looked down slightly at the short person standing before him. Spiky white hair, glaring teal eyes, and an attitude that Ichigo didn't have to read in order to see. He got a chill up his spine as that frosty gaze lifted to meet his own dark brown ones. While the cold stare most prominent on his face was that of blank stoicism, he could see all of the emotions he'd been displaying in the past, including fear, nervousness, sadness, anger, and confusion.

"Are you Kurosaki Ichigo?" A nod. "Then I found the right person. I'm Hitsugaya Toshiro. Your boss, Konpaku Mod, arranged a meeting for today." How could he forget? Kon would accept any job he could make a profit out of, regardless of how small and off-topic that job is, and Toshiro looked very well-off. Kon's greatest weakness, though? Busty, crying women.

Ichigo stepped aside, letting the perfect soldier, with his pedigree medals of prideful upbringing, walk into his office. As soon as Toshiro was across the room and in the process of getting into a comfortable seat, Ichigo closed his door, thankful to be rid of that ridiculous overhead lighting. Just the electrical hum of that hallway was enough to send Ichigo into a night of pounding migraines bulldozing though his head. Safe inside the dim light of his own, personal office, he went to take his seat, next to Toshiro instead of across from him. It made these encounters more personal, a little more reassuring for everyone. And despite his outer shell of calm and cool, Ichigo knew better.

"Then... Tell me was it is I can do for you, Toshiro." There was a small twitch of irritation in his face, and although physically he didn't move a muscle, Ichigo could tell he had just annoyed the hell out of him.

"It's Hitsugaya-san." Oh yeah, Military. Ichigo smirked. "As for what I need from you, I thought it was obvious. Don't tell me there's false advertising amiss, here."

"No, I can assure you there is none of that. But you would be surprised at how many people who -don't- need my services end up in my office anyway just because my boss is a greedy son-of-a-bitch." Yes, Ichigo was blunt and to the point, a straight-forward guy who doesn't beat around the bush. It didn't get him in trouble, much. Actually, people get along just fine with him.

The corners of Toshiro's mouth twitched, holding it back with just the slightest bit of control, but Ichigo wasn't fooled. He could see that smile spread out through his entire soul. While he displayed grumpy and stoic, inside he was amused and... Ichigo blushed slightly , hoping the other didn't notice, and thinking the room wasn't as dim as he could have made it.

"Well... Perhaps that's true. I told him I was willing to pay anything for at least a meeting, and he told me I would get the best." He paused looking at the taller man, eyes slightly narrowed. "I assume that's you?" He nodded. He didn't like bragging, but it was the truth. "Then as long as I get what I need, you get paid. There will be no problem."

Ichigo shrugged, leaning his head against his palm, which had been propped up by the back of the chair. "What Kon doesn't realize is with me, it's not always about the money. So tell me, what do you need from me? Specifically?"

Toshiro sagged a little, his posture relaxing slightly as he looked away and contemplated what to say. Ichigo almost had a vision of wheels and cogs turning like clockwork in his head. It made him dizzy, and he looked away as well, following Toshiro's line of sight.

His coffee mug from this morning. It was washed, clean, and ready to be taken home to join its brethren in the cupboard. It was one of his favorites, and one of the few his boss would allow him to bring. It was completely black, with simple, lower-case type in white asking, "got coffee?" Personally, Ichigo would have brought and displayed all of his coffee mugs if he could, but mister stick-up-the-ass said something about it not being very compassionate with the clients. How how harmful could it be having a mug that read, "put down the coffee, and no one gets hurt"? Though his co-work, Ishida, told him that the crappy coffee here wasn't worth murder in the slightest, especially since Orihime was making it, so he let that one stay at home. Seriously, that girl had an iron stomach. Maybe tomorrow he could sneak in early and prepare a -decent- pot for everyone...

"Kurosaki-kun..." His attention zeroed in on the man that whispered his name. "I need you... to help me find someone. To get to the bottom of a disappearance that happened nearly ten years ago, and to throw off anyone trying to get in the way." Toshiro finally looked back at him, murder and chaos in his eyes. "I need you to help me find Aizen Sosuke."

The end... or is it? You decide, people!