Author's Notes: This story came about through discussions with a friend of mine. As I understand it, a lot of the ideas she presented that I thought were too good not to use and play with are not from her, but from another source I am unaware of. I apologize for using them, although I am definitely putting my own spin on all of it so it should hopefully be more or less unrecognizable beyond inspirational purposes. Most of what you see in here aside from the concept and a scant few of the jokes is my own material.
This contains spoilers up to chapter 201 of the Japanese manga release. It's not a terrible spoiler, but it should be mentioned as it involves Rukia's zanpakutou. Most of the other spoilers are from the Soul Society arc, which the American manga well into but not far enough. Read at your own peril.
Also, I'm trying to get the line breaks to work, but seems to like to screw the formatting. So apologies if they don't.
Finally, there shall be a few creative liberties taken for purposes of humor. It is a fanfiction after all.
Still there? Then let us begin.
Chapter 1: Substitute Shinigami and Honored Guest; Is that an oven or a flamethrower?
"I'm home," Kurosaki Ichigo, fifteen-year old, orange-haired substitute shinigami said as he walked into his house and removed his shoes.
"You're late!" a bombastic voice shouted as a large foot came out of nowhere and collided with Ichigo's face. Ichigo was thrown backwards into an awkward, spine-twisting position.
Rolling back, he sprung to his feet.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR!?" he shouted.
"I TOLD YOU TO BE HOME BY SIX!" Kurosaki Isshin, Ichigo's clinically deranged doctor of a father shouted.
"WHAT KIND OF FATHER DEMANDS THEIR FIFTEEN-YEAR OLD SON BE HOME BY SIX!?" Ichigo demanded, bringing his face right up to Isshin's and shouting into it.
"THE KIND OF FATHER WHO IS TAKING HIS LITTLE GIRLS TO THE BALL GAME!" Isshin shouted. "Now then, you stay and watch the clinic. We'll be out for several hours, don't screw up anything.
Ichigo grunted and stalked up to his room, shutting the door behind him. He was a bit sullen about not getting to go, but he wasn't about to say anything.
"ICHIIGOOOO!" Kon screamed as he leapt at Ichigo.
"You're annoying!" Ichigo said with a scowl as he smacked Kon across the room. Kon smashed into Ichigo's closet door, before falling to the ground with a subdued squeak.
"Onee-san!" he said with a whining sob. "Where are you? Please, come save me from this abuse!"
"Shut it, Kon!" Ichigo half-yelled from his bed.
As Ichigo lay on his bed, considering beating the stuffing out Kon who had fallen to subdued but still clearly audible grumblings, a flash of black caught his eye.
Ichigo's eyes widened as a black butterfly floated lazily into his vision. In the next instant he felt a definitive weight on his chest as a familiar crown of black hair and penetrating blue eyes.
"Yo, Rukia," Ichigo said, staring back at her.
"Onee-san!" Kon suddenly screamed, leaping at her.
Rukia lightly jumped off Ichigo's chest, unleashing a spinning kick to Kon that knocked him back into the closet as she did.
"What are you doing here?" Ichigo asked as he sat up on his bed and stretched.
"I have something for you," Rukia replied, removing a small parchment of paper from her shihakusho.
Ichigo took it and scanned it.
To Kurosaki Ichigo, substitute shinigami,
Greetings! You and your associates are cordially invited to attend the 367th annual Gotei 13 potluck as thanks for your invaluable services against the traitor, Aizen. The potluck will begin at 10:00 PM this very day, and all guests are required to bring their own dish, prepared by their own hand. Please present yourself at the Urahara's store at precisely 9:30 PM so that you can pass through the gate and into the Seireitei. We hope you can attend.
Ukitake Jyuushiro, 13th Division Captain
Ichigo glanced over at the clock. It was already 6:30. That gave him about three hours to work with, depending on how long it took him to get to Urahara's. He turned and looked at Rukia, who had managed to smash Kon underfoot to keep him from leaping joyously through the air.
"Gotei 13 potluck?" he said skeptically.
"It's really quite an honor. Normally, only captains and vice-captains are permitted to attend, but we were given a special invitation for services rendered, or, in my case and Hanataro's case, as an apology."
"Wait, Hanataro's coming too?" Ichigo asked, a bit incredulously.
"Well, yes, it was under the condition that he prepare something himself and represent the fifth division. With Aizen gone and Vice-Captain Hinamori Momo still in a coma, they needed someone to bring something remotely edible," Rukia replied matter-of-factly.
"Well, that makes… wait a minute. Edible? Is that not standard?" Ichigo asked, suddenly suspicious.
"Ichigo," Rukia said, rolling her eyes. "You've seen the captains. What do you think?"
"Right. Crap. Well, we better get started on something then, huh?"
"That'd be a good idea. I'm here to help you with your dish so that you don't accidentally burn your house down," Rukia said. "Plus it keeps me from having to bring my own. Although I could probably leech off what Renji and Nii-sama are making."
"Remind me not to touch that one," Ichigo said. "Anyway, let's get started."
Ichigo and Rukia walked down into the kitchen, Kon close on their heels. Knowing better than to say anything, he jumped up onto the counter to watch as Ichigo and Rukia began raiding the fridge.
"So what are we making anyway?" Ichigo asked.
"I don't know. Aren't you the one who lives here? What do you have?" Rukia shot back.
"Yuzu does the cooking. Let's see… rice… fish… meat… milk… flour… some beef…" Ichigo continued to rummage through just about any receptacle of food he could get his hands on.
"Ooh! Let's make Shabu Shabu!" Rukia said.
"Shabu Shabu?" Ichigo asked, dubiously.
"Yeah, it's really easy to cook, you just slice the beef into really thin slices and let it go.
"That's it?" Ichigo asked.
"I think so," Rukia said. "Anyway, come on, let's get to cutting."
Ichigo grabbed Kon and rammed his hand into Kon's mouth, overriding his protests. Removing the green pill, he swallowed it, his shinigami form bursting forth from his body.
"Kon, go hang out in my room or go to the store or something," Ichigo said dismissively.
Kon looked like he was about to say something but apparently thought better of it when he realized that he was free and in a human body. Running to the closet, he grabbed Ichigo's jacket and was out the door.
"Now then," Ichigo said as he grabbed Zangetsu and drew it forth, the bandages coiling around it and residing. "Let's chop some meat."
Rukia drew her own zanpakutou. "Let's go!"
After twenty minutes of assaulting an innocent side of beef with their zanpakutou, it was finally sliced into (relatively) thin pieces.
Ichigo clumsily dumped them onto a tray, making a mess from the blood and juices that were spilling all over the counter.
"I'll clean that up," Rukia said. "Put the tray into the oven."
Ichigo obliged, closing the door and going up to the dial.
"How long should I cook it and at what temperature?" he asked.
"Well, we want to finish it as fast as we can, so put it on the highest setting possible. I think it takes about twenty minutes or something," Rukia said as she swabbed the counter. "We can check on it periodically."
Ichigo shrugged and turned the oven up to 300 degrees Celsius.
"Anyway, that was a lot of work. Let's go grab some of those wonderful drinks in the boxes! It should be done by the time we get home!" Rukia said enthusiastically.
"Sure," Ichigo said, as they both moved through the door, obviously not considering the fact that they couldn't purchase anything effectively in spirit form.
Shortly thereafter
After spending several minutes trying to figure out how, exactly, they were going to purchase drinks from a vendor who couldn't see them, Ichigo managed to find enough change to get one of the drinks out of a vending machine. As they approached the house, they noticed something odd.
"Is that a cloud of black smoke I see coming out of the kitchen window?" Rukia asked curiously.
Ichigo swore violently as he rushed into the house.
"Shit!" he yelled as the billowing black smoke poured from the crack in the oven.
Ichigo opened the oven and a gout of flame burst forward, one he barely managed to dodge.
"RUKIA!" he screamed.
Rukia ran in close on his heels, her zanpakutou drawn.
"Dance, Sode no Shirayuki!" she shouted.
Extending her zanpakutou, it seemed to be momentarily surrounded in a burst of snow. The blade that emerged was pristine white, and a long white ribbon trailed from it.
"Next dance, White Ripple!" she shouted, a wave of ice moving forward and engulfing the flame. The fire hissed as thick white steam replaced the black smoke almost instantly.
Ichigo hurried over to the oven and turned it off.
Waiting for the steam to subside, Ichigo tentatively grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the pan out. Within the pan was the charcoal remains of what was probably the meat they had originally placed in the oven.
"Great, now what?" he asked.
An hour and a half later
An enthusiastic Kon walked into the door about twenty minutes after nine, only to be confronted by a rather interesting sight. Ichigo and Rukia, covered head to toe in grains of rice, were standing at a cutting board rolling rice into what could only be described as mutant rice balls. Most were way too large, and the seaweed and umeboshi were barely together.
"Oh great, Kon, perfect timing," Ichigo said. "Come on Rukia, we'll be late if we don't hurry!"
Rukia nodded and gathered up the rice balls, throwing them all into a plastic sack.
"Hey, do us a favor and clean up, would you?" Ichigo said. "Bye!"
He and Rukia dashed out the door, leaving Kon behind. Kon stood there for a moment with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Slowly, he turned to face the kitchen, finally realizing that it was covered in rice and that it smelled of severely burnt meat. Furthermore, the rice-cooker was still plugged in and there was a thick coat of burned rice at the bottom, as well as an oven that appeared to have a good deal of burned substances inside of it.
Kon sighed. "Why me?" he asked plaintively as he set to work.