[All rights belong to their perspective owners, this is my own work, etc.]
Author's note- I discovered Tite Kubo's BLEACH anime earlier this fall and have been enjoying it immensely. After watching all the available episodes (many many hours well spent) I began to toy with the idea of writing a fan-fic based on Ichigo's life after the events of the manga (and yes, I know its an ongoing series)- specifically after he dies since it makes more sense to me to have him continue as a Deputy Shinigami in life and only after living out his human life span becoming a full fledged shinigami. With all the trouble, challenges and adventure that involves.
Fair warning- I do not speak Japanese but have and will continue to use Japanese honorifics/ phrases where I can since I prefer them to the actual English translation. Any mistakes in usage or spelling are unintentional.
Hope you enjoy it and thank you for at least giving it a try! Reviews are always welcome- flames especially since it's now heading into winter where I am and my toes are cold.
Chapter 1
Spring had always been his favorite season and this year was no different. Nature had more than lived up to its promise and Karakura Town was exploding with color as new growth and cherry blossoms pushed back the dark colors of winter. Smiles and laughter were everywhere as everyone took advantage of the gorgeous weather and the age old excuse of hanami to party.
Hanami picnics had been one of the few traditions his father had kept during his childhood after his mother's death and one that his sisters had insisted on continuing as adults. So, without fail, every year they had gathered beneath the pink snow topped trees in Sakura Park with their friends. Over the years, as the children had come along, their small group had grown into a virtual army. Still, it had been a merry army that day with laughter and shrieks of delight as friends and cousins arrived and were greeted as if they were long lost relatives returning home.
Yes, he sighed in contentment as hours later he watched the sun painted the treetops a deeper rose and the yozakura lanterns started to wink into existence. It was good to see everyone again. If anyone had looked up just then, they would have seen a man, elderly but still proudly erect watching the day fade into twilight. For those more philosophical, they'd probably see it as a metaphor of a man staring into his twilight years and take a minute to consider their own mortality, he thought whimsically with a slight smile. And they'd be wrong, I'm just watching the sunset. Nothing deep about me really.
He'd never been one for contemplating his place in the universe- he just was. Once, fate had given him a chance to be more than just a punk teen who saw ghosts and he'd grabbed at it with both hands. There'd been no fuzziness about it- his choices had been to fight, or fail and watch everyone he loved be destroyed. That decision had led to more than a few risky fights over the years, but not one he'd ever regretted despite the unique position that decision had forced him into. Human, but not. Shinigami, but not. Not quite. Not yet, anyway.
A sharp pain lashed across his chest, triggering a coughing fit that had him clutching the balcony railing as his body shook. After what seemed like ages, the pain in his chest eased and he was able to draw in a deep breath. It's getting worse. Won't be long now, he thought with a sigh.
A bout of flu nearly two years before had turned into a nasty case of pneumonia, severely weakening his lungs. They had never quite healed, leaving a persistent cough as its legacy. Although the cough had been getting progressively stronger since the New Year, it hadn't started hurting until recently. In an effort to avoid worrying anyone he'd been suppressing the fits when around others, but that was now beyond his abilities. He'd never had the same control over his reiatsu in human form as he did in his shinigami form and it was too exhausting to try any longer. Which was fine, it wasn't like he'd never been in pain before- even if it had been years since he'd been in this bad shape.
His duties as a Deputy Shinigami had been nothing more strenuous than "Hollow Duty" for years- allowing the Shinigami who would've been assigned to this area the freedom to be assigned to other threats; and it'd given him the chance to have a normal life. In theory anyway. It hadn't quite worked out that way, but he wasn't complaining. He'd had a good life. If a little pain at the end of it was the price he paid for the life he had chosen than it was one he would pay a thousand times over.
Which is why I haven't let on to Orihime or Shara that I'm dying. They wouldn't understand and I don't want to hurt them. Or, no- Orihime would understand, but I'd hurt her by refusing and I don't want that. Shara just wouldn't understand.
Karin's daughter, Shara, had taken over her grandfather's medical clinic years before. She was as forthright and stubborn as her mother, but unlike her mother (or uncle), she couldn't see souls or sense reiatsu. For her, the stories of shinigami and Soul Society had been bedtimes stories, not reality. Over the years, she'd managed to avoid discovering otherwise and remained stubbornly practical.
He snorted in amusement, inadvertently triggering another fit that all but drove him to his knees. Wracking coughs shaking his entire torso, he managed to collapse into a nearby chair to let the fit run its course; until finally, it eased enough for him to begin breathing again. Yup, dying. His thought sounded almost morbidly cheerful even to himself, which led to another choked laugh and more coughing.
Over the years he'd developed a "feel" or sense of those who were dying. From comments Kisuke had made over the years, most shinigami developed such a "death sense." Including my own, apparently. Shaking his head again at the morbid thought, Ichigo forced himself to relax. Breathing in the rapidly cooling evening air, he looked up and smiled as the stars started to wink and shine in the darkening sky. There's still time to watch the stars come out.