Proditiophobia: The Fear of Betrayal
Ichigo Kurosaki left the Soul Society after the Quincy war. After secrets were finally released to the open air, he felt as though he could no longer trust even the closest of his friends, he simply pushed them away. Isshin had never told him the truth of his mother or her demise. Had he even cared of the strain on his son's psyche? Just a simple 'I don't blame you' would've sufficed. Only his father had never taken the time to tell him. Had he told Yuzu or Karin, perhaps? He had left them behind with his old life. Who knows what they were hiding from him as well? Rukia was no exception. She had told him next to nothing about his job as her substitute shinigami. Then she abandoned him with hardly a word after he stuck out his neck to save her! She didn't tell him she planned to help him save Orihime, or that there was a way to return his powers. Kisuke didn't tell him anything either. Had he only assumed he would figure it out along the way? It was the same story with Yoruichi. Then came his 'friends.'
Keigo and Mizurito hadn't harmed him yet. Yet was the word to remember at this point. They hadn't so far, but Ichigo didn't plan to stick around long enough to find out.
So, he left.
Chapter One
Prologue
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The jarring sound of the cheap plastic alarm clock filled the tiny apartment. Untrimmed orange hair was the only thing that could be seen from the blue-and-white blanket that covered the tall figure curled on the single bed. One toned arm shot out from under the blankets and slapped around on the bedside table next to him until he finally located the off button.
After a long, loud sigh, Ichigo sat up. Dark circles glistened under his eyes, wet from tears.
He had another one of those dreams, dreams of a happier life when he could trust people at the drop of a hat when he had friends and family.
But that life was long gone.
As hard as he tried to forget, the memories of leaving home flooded back, as they did nearly every morning. Picking up a suitcase, packed with everything he owned, and casting one last glance at his family as he looked out the taxi window.
Isshin wasn't able to meet his gaze, Karin looked hurt and confused, yet she didn't cry. What had hurt the most was Yuzu. She was crying loudly and profusely, tears running down her cheeks, soaking her neck and the collar of her shirt as she watched her big brother leave. Her nose was running and she was hiccuping as she leaned on her father, who was probably the only one keeping her from running, whether it was to her room, or after Ichigo, he didn't know.
After all, he hadn't even bothered to say goodbye.
The hours-long journey from Karakura to Iwate came with two feelings, a strange mix of fear and freedom.
He had little money, Ungaiya hadn't paid too well, and he had to quit the soccer team when the Quincy War began.
Shit!
Ichigo felt his heart rate quicken and a chill go down his spine. Perfect, a panic attack to start out the day, and on a Monday, too! He'd be late for work at this rate. Ichigo threw his legs off the side of the bed and took a few steps across the tiny bedroom to reach his creaky old dresser. Pulling open the first drawer, he pulled out a navy blue judogi and tossed it over to his unmade bed. Next, he dug through the same drawer, to pull out four orange prescription pill bottles. One labeled for sleep, one labeled for anxiety, one for depression, and the final for PTSD. Checking the names, Ichigo unscrewed the tops of the depression and anxiety before throwing back the capsules. He didn't even bother putting the bottles back in place before he got dressed and rushed out of his apartment, and to the dojo.
When Ichigo had arrived in Iwate, he got a crappy job waiting tables in a crappy Ramen-ya, and it took nearly a year before he saved enough to get more than a single room apartment in the seediest part of town. After a year and a half of a seven am to ten pm job, he quit and made a circle around town, trying to find anything he was qualified for. It was a long and tiring search, his monthly budget was continually shrinking until there was a week when he went hungry just to that he could keep his apartment.
The only reason he still had a home, the only reason he wasn't indebted to someone, was ironically the very thing he was trying to forget. His years fighting as a shinigami had saved not only himself but a stranger's daughter.
Ichigo had the thin polyester jacket pulled tightly around himself, the hood pulled tightly around his face in a futile effort to keep himself warm in the negative degree weather.
"Daddy!" A terrified scream shocked Ichigo still. "Daddy!"
"Shut it, you brat!" It was almost a whisper, but Ichigo had been trained to hear the sound of a pin drop in a crowded room. A resounding slap followed the crude words.
Without even a thought for his own safety, Ichigo rounded the corner and bolted down the alley, assessing the situation is seconds.
A little girl dressed in a pink coat was crying, sitting next to her downed father. A visibly expensive coat had a single hole shot through the shoulder, the insulation stained red as blood squirted from the bullet wound, streaming down the coat and soaking the snow drifts.
"I'm going to tell you one last time!"
As the mugger spoke, Ichigo skidded to a thankfully silent stop. His hair was covered by a dark cap, and his own brown coat was tattered.
"Give me everything you've got or I'm shooting for the kill, got it, dick head?"
The man on the ground might have said something, but Ichigo wasn't paying attention. With one kick to the ribs, the mugger staggered, turning to face Ichigo.
"You think you can take me on?" He sneered, dirt smudged on his cheeks. He might have been a bum, but it didn't matter. Not then. "Come on, carrot-" He didn't get to finish the insult before Ichigo stuck again, quicker than his eyes could follow. One hand grabbed the man by the upper arm while the other struck at the bone in his forearm. A loud crack sounded the and the gun fell alongside the man, clutching at his arm. Ichigo laid one last blow to the back of his head, knocking him out cold.
"Th-thank you!" The man stood, one hand pressing on the still-bleeding bullet wound.
"Let's get you to a hospital." Ichigo proceeded to call an ambulance, as the man began to comfort his daughter.
Once the three arrived at the hospital, the man and his daughter by ambulance, Ichigo and the mugger by a police car.
As the trio waited in the emergency room, the man once again thanked Ichigo. "Is there anything I can do to repay you?"
Ichigo jokingly answered, "Well, I could really use a job."
It wasn't three days later when he received a call, the man turned out to be the owner of a few nearby dojos, and one had an opening.
Chapter One End
I meant negative degrees in the sense of Celsius, so around thirty degrees Fahrenheit.
There will be a second chapter shortly, depending on the reaction this little snippet gets. It's short, and probably has some grammatical errors, but I wanted to get a general reaction before I really poured myself out on this, my first story here.