A/N Update: When you think it's easier to just copy and paste from Tumblr... And then wake up to reviews saying it's in html code =_= sorry guys. Hopefully this works!
...
"They say my mother used to smile more. Is that the truth?"
She is too much like her damn mother: inquisitive, blunt, honest. Innocent to the point that he can't find himself to lie to her.
(Sometimes when he imagines that none of it really happened, that the future wasn't really the future at all, that he'll wake up with her in his arms-sometimes he wonders if he's just talking to a reflection of her.)
...
When Kazui becomes a teenager, Ichigo sees Ichika more and more often.
Which is funny, considering he hardly sees his son in any case. Since he and Orihime divorced a few years ago, Kazui only sees his father one weekend every month and has insinuated to prefer it that way. Regardless of how much he may look like him, no matter that his mother left Ichigo with nothing but a lovingly firm I found someone who loves me more note- Kazui is his mother's son, through and through. And Ichigo really does understand. The way Uryuu treats Orihime is not lost on either son nor father: how much he loves her, how much more he could ever give Orihime than a hollow "I love you because you love me." There was never a competition.
Ichigo is thankful his son doesn't refuse to see him. He's just a bit concerned about the girl from Death that follows after.
He's not stupid, and he's been through this himself-he knows what the fuck is up. He sees how his son looks at her, how he stares down at his shoes with a "'K bye," when she has to leave, how sour he is when he tells his father he hasn't seen her in awhile.
(He's also seen the terrible, I-mean-god-awful Shakespearean sonnets hidden in the boy's closet about red hair and violet eyes, and begins to think maybe he really does have some Kurosaki in him.)
And really, Ichigo would just like to avoid this girl, avoid inwardly scowling at the way he knows she will unintentionally hurt his son. He is always sure to say a courteous hello... But. Well-there is also the fact that it is so damn hard to look at her.
Unfortunately, on the weekends she stays it seems she suffers the same insomnia that Ichigo has. That her mother had.
He's reading a book when she shuffles out in one of Kazui's shirts (he beats down the inner Isshin wailing inside of him), blearily rubbing her eyes and yawning, halting suddenly when she sees him. They stare at each other-violet to amber eyes-and Ichigo is reminded of so many moments so, so long ago.
"... Hi, Mr. Kurosaki. Um," she begins shifting foot to foot. "I was just... Is there anything to eat?"
The kids devoured the rest of the leftovers he made earlier in the night, so there really wasn't anything but the basics. Regardless, he can never discredit either Yuzu or Orihime for teaching him how to be a good host- so he gets up with a gruff "sure" and moves his way toward the kitchen.
It's... Awkward, to say the least. Neither are quite sure what to say to each other, how to start the "I am the father to your is-he-isn't-he boyfriend" or "I may or may not be fornicating with your son" conversation. The only sound is Ichika occasionally shifting in her chair at the kitchen island behind him, the continuous chop of Ichigo's knife against the vegetables for a stir fry. And Ichigo's okay with that, he really is, he doesn't want to start a conversation with this personified representation of a whole world that he will never, ever get back because of some damn rules saying he can't-
"So... You and my mom were close?"
A pause of the knife against the cutting board before it starts again. "You can say that," he finally mumbles.
"Well, she was the one who named me Ichika."
"That was after Orihime."
He hears her snort behind him. "Sure, 'Ichika' from 'Orihime Inoue' over 'Ichigo?' OKAY."
He looks back behind him at her smug expression, and he can't help it despite himself-he grins back. "Yeah, maybe I didn't get that either."
She laughs, and it's almost exactly like Rukia's that he-no. It's different. It's a different person. "So...? What's the real story?"
He shrugs, turning back to his cooking as he tries not to remember dark ebony hair through his fingers, the morning light that fell over an elegant backside, kissing down the cobble stone bridge of a spine-
"We were very close friends. Yeah."
"Oh. Well, why aren't you now?"
"We see each other every now and then."
"The last time I can remember is when Kazui and I were kids. When we first met, like, nine years ago."
He's getting impatient. "Look, Ichika, is there something you're getting at or...?"
When he looks back, she's carefully observing him, her fidgety nature (definitely from her father he thinks wryly) all but gone as she observes him with those damned eyes. "No, absolutely not. I'm just wondering why my mother and the man she named me after haven't seen each other for near ten years and she's about as likely to talk about you as you are about her."
He doesn't say anything, just turns back to his cooking. So she hasn't told her anything either, huh? Figures.
Ichika clearly catches the tone of the room. The silence is only broken by her soft "thank you" when he gives her the plate, but he doesn't much hear it. He's already on his way to his bedroom.
...
Despite himself, he really begins to like the kid.
More weekends come and pass, and every time he finds himself making her a meal at two, three, sometimes four am while Kazui is still asleep.
They start to have have much lighter conversations, thankfully. Ichigo will ask how Soul Society is holding up, what the new policies are like, whether Kenpachi is still a crazy son of a bitch. She'll sometimes ask about the human world, but he has a feeling these questions are more reserved for his son. Instead she usually asks him about himself.
What was he like as a kid? What were the adventures with her mother like? She's more respectful on the subject of Ichigo and Rukia's relationship itself, only strangely asking whether it was true her mother smiled more once (to which he shrugged because? He guessed? Rukia smiled often from what he saw, but he thought it was only at his ridiculous teenage antics); otherwise, she didn't broach more on what they were like she did the first night.
Then Kazui graduated high school.
She attended the ceremony with his parents and stepfather-quiet for once, much different than the wild and free caring girl he had ever witnessed before. He got to witness the strange relationship between she and Orihime: an evident respect, and yet a wary sadness on Orihime's part. He can guess what his ex wife is thinking; but he chooses not to acknowledge it, only smiles at her agreeably as she squeezes his arm with a watery smile.
He was absolutely not prepared for the conversation awaiting him at 12:37 am tonight.
He comes out from a late practice in the clinic to find her waiting for him, per usual, at the kitchen island. He snorts, shakes his head as wanders over the fridge, prepared to prepare a scramble or something, as long as it doesn't have onions because she's made it pretty clear she hates onions-
"Your son proposed to me, Mr. Kurosaki. I said yes."
He turns. She babbles on, looking at a point over his head. "He's going to ask for your blessing in the morning, when I'm conveniently asleep, but I thought I'd warn you. He'll ask my dad in a few days, when he gathers up that courage. My mother he's saving for last. He already asked Mrs. Ishida, and she gave her-well, somewhat of a blessing. I think she's scared, but honestly? We both are, and we're really asking for the support of our loved ones to back us up on it. We don't really know how we're going to do it, but we know we love each other and-"
"It's not possible."
She takes his pale complexion and his wild eyes, concerned. "Mr. Kurosaki...?"
"No. No, fuck this-excuse me. I'm sorry, I'm just-I don't mean to be rude. But it was never possible before, how do you expect...? Look, it's obvious I like you, Ichika. It's obvious you make my son happy, and you're a good girl, and there's a reason I make you meals in the day or this late at night or let you sleep over in Kazui's room against any sane fatherly reasoning, but this has gone too far. These are silly notions in both of your heads, and trust me I tried to... I tried to do something very similar to you, I fucking tried-"
"Mr. Kurosaki."
"But there's no way Soul Society's going to up and allow it. There's no way I'm going to allow it to break my son's heart like it did mine. There's no way that this was okay when it was the whole reason she wouldn't-she didn't-"
"Mr. Kurosaki, I'm sorry but I'm not my mother."
And when he glances up at her, really just looks at her he thinks she might be lying because that's all he sees in that serious expression-
And for the first time in years, he loses it.
Just crumbles, slides down the fridge bad-knees-be-damned. Allows this moment to fucking grieve for past mistakes, for the soft smiles he never again got to wake up to, for the ridiculous dancing-in-the-kitchen married moments life didn't give him, for the tearful goodbyes while he stood by and did nothing, just let life screw him over for an excuse as simple that he was tired. Always tired, and for what? For her daughter with another man to tell him it was all for nothing?
He feels her sit with him, there on the linoleum floor of his kitchen, feels her cool touch as her hand rests against his shoulder. Neither say anything for awhile, and he is thankful.
"Mr. Kurosaki," she finally starts when the worst of his moment has passed. She stops shortly before starting again. "Have you ever wondered why Kazui and I have aged the same?"
Of course he had. He's sure it's boggled Mayuri from a distance for years. He doesn't respond.
"Of course, we have too... And we don't really have an answer either. Kazui says it's some red string of fate, like soul mates or whatever-you know him, he's such a romantic-but you know... Who knows? I'm not sure, but it must be something like that. Something in both life and death is telling us we need to exist together."
He rubs a tired hand over his eyes. "That's great, Ichika, but I don't-"
"My mother and father separated years ago. He still looks like he's nineteen... But she began to age, visibly. She looks about the same age as you."
He stills, heart dropping to his stomach. When was the last time he saw Rukia? He guesses it hadn't been since he saw her when the kids met; every time after, they both claimed they were too busy, but... He hadn't thought she looked much older last time?
(Really, she looked to him as breathtaking as all the times before.)
"My father still loves her, you know. Always will," she continues, "They're still good friends, but... I think he just couldn't stand by and watch that anymore, you know? And she's kind to a fault. She didn't wish that for him, so she just stood there when he moved his stuff out and I watched it all and for awhile I hated her. Couldn't stand the thought that I might've been a mistake in this whole scheme of things. And I know-I know that's not true. Soul Society puts up a big fuss about knowing everything, but there are just the some things that the universe chooses to happen and souls to be born and it's nobody's fault. If you hadn't married Mrs. Ishida, Kazui wouldn't be alive. If my mother and father hadn't married, I wouldn't have been born, and neither of us would be here and this big beautiful mess would've been a lot freaking simpler, wouldn't it?"
She laughs a watery laugh, and fuck it- Ichigo may not have been the best he wanted to be in his life, but he is a father, through and through. He ruffles her hair as she takes a moment.
"But we're here, you know? I have Kazui. I still have my parents who love me, unconditionally. You're a pseudo-dad, albeit a weirdo one, so I hope I have you. At this point, I just want to be with your son. And I..." She looks at him, and-isn't this the pattern?-he's momentarily shattered.
"I just want to see what it looks like for my mother to smile like she used to."
...
The Soul Society wedding is stupidly lavish, all credit due to Ichika's asshole uncle.
Ichigo tries to swallow his pride and grumble to himself that really, the living world ceremony was much better, much more personal-but whatever, let Byakuya have this. He was already so damned protective of Rukia, he can only imagine how the Kuchiki was with his niece.
Still, considering the time it's been since he's saved the world and Soul Society and all that, it was nice to be invited, to be so sincerely welcomed by old friends. He said his hellos to each of the captains (excluding Kenpachi- he was still actively hiding from that friend as long as he could), promised a drink later with Ikkaku and Iba's gang. Renji even gave him a hard clap on the back, making him swear-father to father-that the two of them would embarrass their children later at the reception.
He sees her from a distance, from the corner of his eye. Of course he does: how could he not? And yeah she looks a bit older, he can see the slightest wrinkle whenever he chances a glance, but-honestly? There's not much of a difference.
Not much that he cares about, anyway.
He sucks in a breath, pulls together his courage enough to approach her as the crowd transitioned from ceremony to reception.
And when she turns around to look at him... It's so stupid and sounds so much like the shoujo manga his sister used to read when they were kids, but he feels like he's fifteen again. Her eyes watch him carefully as he shuffles and stuffs his hands in his pockets.
"So... Byakuya sure helped make a nice ceremony, huh?"
A quick beat passes before she snorts. "Fool," she says, rolling her eyes, "I should hope it's nice wedding. It's your son's, for God's sake."
"Yeah, and your daughter's, so what about it? Can't I say one nice thing to you without starting an argument?!"
"Of course you can, but I didn't like the attitude behind it! It's like you were saying Nii-sama would create anything but a stunning ceremony for our children!"
"Okay, I wouldn't say stunning, a little over the top if you ask me-"
"Well thank goodness no one's asking you, then!"
She's huffing and puffing and the hair in her elegant coif is coming out in loose strands and how could he ever help being in love with her?
"It's not fair," he blabbers before he can help himself. He shuts his mouth as she looks at him strangely.
"What was that?"
He considers his options. He could lie. Say he was talking about something else. Continue on with the joke about the stupid ceremony. Tease her mercilessly about the stupidly ornate little baubles in her hair, the elegant layers of kimono that don't suit her at all-
But fuck it. He spent twenty plus years wasting his time.
"It's not fair... For you. That I told you so." He answers honestly, gesturing around him.
She stares at him for a terrifying moment, and he's afraid that maybe he didn't get it or maybe she understood all too well-
And then she smiles.