Ichigo was sure that, to anyone off the street, he probably looked like a nervous kid on his way to his first-ever date, red as he was in the cheeks. Perhaps they'd also be tipped off by the way he constantly fussed with the dark green collar of his tan shirt. They'd be wrong either way, as he was in fact on his way to see his wife, whom he'd married nine months earlier.

He wondered as he made his way to his father's house if he looked to anyone like a married man instead. He still didn't feel like one. A lucky man, sure; a very happy man, there could be no doubt; but a married man? Did respectable married men have shocking hooligan hair? Did they constantly try to iron the creases out of their shirts with their hands as they walked down the street? He thought not, but then again, did they marry dead girls and slay monsters in their spare time either?

Questions fled his mind as the most beautiful flower caught his eye—a sunflower in yellow and black. About as tall as one, but carrying the unmistakably heavenly scent of lavender, which the wind brought to him as it blew past...fluttering her skirt. The hem danced playfully to the breeze and flashed him more thigh than he'd been prepared for – and apparently, she as well. She quickly slapped her hands down on the skirt in much the same way her husband slapped his nose to stem its sudden flow of blood. Both went pink. At the moment, Ichigo both loved and hated his wife's preference for sundresses.

"D—did you see?" came her nervous tone on the wind that was helping to cool her husband's heated face.

"No," he lied, suddenly unable to think of anything but bunny rabbits, his eyes to the sidewalk. "You...caught it in time."

If someone observed them at that moment, they might never believe that these two were in fact husband and wife – but for only that moment, as by the next, one would find them in a loving embrace, where he lifted her more than a foot off the ground so that their eyes could lock properly.

"I missed you," she said quietly, almost a whisper.

"It's only been two weeks," he replied, gently tugging at one of her cheeks teasingly as he held her close with one hand.

"Are you saying you didn't miss me?" she asked, though through a grin, as she caught the teasing hand in her own and brought them, together, close to her chest.

"Weren't you listening?" he responded as if in surprise, "it's been two weeks."

She kissed him then, and they both felt the familiar sensation of Ichigo's face rapidly heating up. For while behind closed doors or between sheets he was perfectly comfortable expressing his love, public display was still something he struggled with. He pulled away too quickly and hated himself, lucky to have a wife who thought he was too cute when embarrassed to feel the same.

He set her down and they walked hand-in-hand up to the house. Hand-in-hand he could do.

"Was Yuzu still okay to make the kebabs for us?" he asked. Though some romances were meant to last – as their own centuries-long marriage would prove to – unfortunately, the same could not be said for all relationships, including his younger sister's. She and her boyfriend Jinta had apparently decided to break up at some point, which he knew only because of Urahara.

Rukia nodded. "She seems fine. I think cooking makes her happy."

What doesn't? Ichigo wondered about his saccharine sibling.

As they entered the house, they were both overtaken by the deliciously mouth-watering scent of his sister's efforts. "I'm home," Ichigo announced out of habit, causing his sister's head to pop out of the kitchen entryway almost immediately. He noticed she now wore her hair not in pigtails, but a medium-length pixie cut, her bangs tucked behind her left ear and held in place with a flower hairclip. Maybe it was a post-breakup reinvention.

"Onii-chan! Rukia-neesan!" Yuzu exclaimed as brightly as he'd never heard at seeing the two of them. "I'm just packing them up now, so don't bother taking off your shoes. You don't want to be late," she said, disappearing once again. She reappeared a minute later carrying a picnic basket which emanated the same delectable aroma as before. "I hope everybody enjoys them," she said a little apprehensively as she handed her brother the basket.

"I'm sure we all will," Rukia said confidently, as was her style. "Especially Renji," she added, causing a blush to rise in Yuzu's cheeks. Ichigo's back stiffened, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. He hadn't known Renji was attending their reunion with their friends, their first since the wedding. It would be the first time they would all be together since Hueco Mundo, and the first time he'd talk to Chad since back when he started realizing his feelings for Rukia. Chad had gone away to university in Mexico after graduation, but now that he was back, Ichigo was determined to apologize for sidelining him during his emotional restlessness.

Now that Renji was part of the equation too, though, Ichigo would have to ration time to pull him aside and put a scare in the guy. It was bad enough that he'd chatted up Yuzu for nearly the entire reception of their wedding, but now the mere mention of him was making her blush? No. Ichigo refused to have another one of his sisters seduced by a rival. Losing Karin to Byakuya had been bad enough. This would not become a pattern.

Rukia taking his hand released his body of all tension instantly, and he was brought back to the present in time to thank his sister before they left to finally meet their friends.

As Karin made her way to the Urahara Shoten, she mused at it being her last Spring break before she started university next month. She wondered how things would be different then, how she would be different. Would she feel grown up?

Would she be able to accept a real kiss from Byakuya?

Little had she known that the man's practice of princely hand kisses had been saving her from confronting her underlying romantic nervousness. She had never been the shy type, but at the same time she had also never been the girlie type. She was still a rookie at interacting with boys outside of sports. Sure, she'd hugged Byakuya a couple of times, but that wasn't the same.

Lately, in the wake of Byakuya attending her brother's wedding – a silent declaration of his love for her, as they both knew – she had been finding her gaze drawn more frequently to his lips as he spoke to her. Her mind would take off from there, imagining every possible kissing scenario, and worse, all the ways she could make a rookie mistake. She'd never kissed anyone before! She didn't know what to do!

"Karin-chan, are you okay?" came a timid voice. It was Ururu from the Shoten. They'd started getting to know one another during Karin's frequent trips to the shop, where Yoruichi had taken her as a student of shunpo to supplement Byakuya's teachings. As it happened, they got along quite well, which was comforting to each of them, since they'd be attending the same university in a month's time.

Karin realized then that Ururu was probably concerned because of the way her friend frozen stiff in the street, still a ways a way from the Shoten and very red in the face.

"Do you have a fever?" the raven-haired girl asked.

Karin shook herself out of her stupor. "I-I'm fine," she stammered as she slapped her cheeks and continued, stiffly, to the Shoten.

As was her nature, Ururu was happy to walk quietly beside her new friend as she made her way with robotic steps to the storefront, only to freeze once more, but this time out of fear.

She put her arm out to stop Ururu from going on ahead. "Ururu-chan, do you feel that?"

"Feel what?" asked Ururu, bewildered.

"I'm not really sure...but I've felt it before...it's like a Hollow, only different..." Karin continued to probe the alien reiatsu with her mind, but couldn't reconcile it as Hollow or spirit. Whatever it was, it felt like it was inside the Shoten.

"Oh, him," Ururu said, and Karin whipped her head around to face her. "It's okay, he's a guest. Urahara-san brought him here a few days ago," she explained innocently.

"Urahara-san did?"

Ururu nodded. "Would you like to meet him? He's pretty harmless."

No, she wanted to say. This was the kind of creature that gave her the sickening feeling of a cold snake coming to rest in a coil in her stomach. It felt like everything that had kept her up at night since her first Hollow encounter, back when they were invisible to her, and before her training.

But Ururu had said "he" was harmless, and Ururu was the most timid thing she'd ever encountered. And surely they were safe in the Shoten, Karin always felt safest there.

"O-okay," she said through unbecoming shakiness. She hoped it wouldn't be the last decision she ever made. She still had kissing to conquer, dammit!

Ururu led her inside and across the never-changing interior of the shop to a sliding paper door, probably the worst security Karin could think of given that a very powerful Hollow-thing could be felt on the other side. She'd always known Urahara was a little touched upstairs, but this...

Ururu announced herself like a houseguest before sliding open the door.

...What?

The thing that was lying on the simple futon that was the only furnishing in the small bedroom wasn't a Hollow at all, but a man. He had light blue hair and scary, catlike eyes similar to those of Yoruichi-san. However, against all odds, neither feature in its extreme oddness managed to surpass that of the thing on his face. It was as if he'd broken off the right lower half of a Hollow's mask and stuck it to the appropriate spot on his own face. It even had all its teeth still in it.

This guy was a psycho...And he had a sword?! For God's sake! Maybe she and Ururu weren't getting along as well as she'd thought. It was always the quiet ones, and this one had lured Karin to her untimely death!

"Hi, Grimmjow-san," Ururu said kindly as if she weren't flirting with Death on behalf of them both.

"Don't add stupid stuff to my name, I said," retorted the ornery psycho. "It's just 'Grimmjow'." He hadn't been looking at them, but the ceiling, though that changed after he sniffed the air a bit. He locked his terrifying eyes with Karin's. "You stink."

Karin was insulted, though it was still preferable to being dead at this point. Still, it wasn't as if she'd just come from soccer practice without showering.

"Don't say things like that, Grimmjow-san," Ururu cut in before Karin could tell the psycho off Kurosaki-style.

Then Grimmjow's eyes widened and he started getting up, making Karin jump and retreat a few steps. "Wait a minute!" he exclaimed, "You smell like—"

Before he could finish his insult, he wobbled and fell face-first back onto the futon, as if he were very dizzy or very drunk. His position let Karin see for the first time that the sword at his side was actually secured into its sheath by a knotted rope so that it couldn't be drawn. She relaxed a bit. She also noticed that he had a fist-sized hole blown through his stomach and lower back: another attraction this one-man freak show had to offer.

"You shouldn't strain yourself," Ururu told him gently, to which he responded by grumbling into his futon.

"What's wrong with him?" Karin asked, loudly, so that he could be offended.

"He's still weak from when Urahara-san rescued him. He's had most of his reiatsu pulled out of him." The explanation did little to tell Karin much of anything, but she let it go. He wasn't worth the time anyway.

Back outside, Karin stopped Ururu and asked, "Why's Urahara-san putting him up? Did he get attacked my a Hollow or something?" She thought it was a good theory. He was clearly a man who felt like a Hollow, a feeling she'd also gleaned from her brother's old friend, Chad.

Ururu shook her head. "He's called an Arrancar. He used to be a Hollow, but now he's something different. Urahara-san called him a 'special combat reserve'. I think he senses something's going to happen soon..." she finished, becoming pensive, though not nervous as one might expect.

Karin had heard once that she was essentially a reserve soldier for the Gotei 13 in Soul Society. She had to admit, her training had come along way. She even knew her zanpakuto's name now. And there was still her brother, and he even knew bankai. If Urahara-san was bringing in extra help – that of a Hollow, no less – then whatever he suspected was something deadly serious.

"What do you think it is?" Karin asked, unable to help herself.

Ururu seemed to consider changing the subject as she chewed her bottom lip. Karin was just about to let it die when her friend suddenly piped up. "Have you heard anything about the Queen of Hollows?"

Ichigo could see Orihime and Uryu already sitting at the picnic table in the high school courtyard, she in a frilly lavender shirt and white jean shorts, he in a dark violet dress shirt and tan slacks. Orihime, presumably, had already draped a white cloth over it and had set out a large bowl of salad made from questionable exotic greens, as well as a plate of succulent lamb shanks, which Ichigo bet were Uryu's doing. Thankfully. Oddly, they weren't sitting side-by-side. Maybe Uryu was still shy.

Kurosaki-kun! Rukia-san!" Orihime yelled as if to outdo Yuzu herself as she popped up out of her seat. She ran over and caught Rukia up in a tight hug, suffocating her in squishy endowment as her feet dangled helplessly slightly above the ground. Rukia gasped as she was released back onto the pavement, like a deep sea diver whose air tank had run out before they broke the surface.

"It's nice to see you, Orihime," Rukia said as she fussed with her now-dishevelled hair.

"Is Chad here yet?" Ichigo asked as he swept past her and placed the basket of kebabs on the table beside the shanks. Orihime immediately went about removing them and lining them up on serving dishes as Uryu got up to exchange pleasantries with Rukia.

"Not yet," Orihime answered while working. "He said he's bringing spaghetti though. I told him sea urchin roe goes good on top, but I don't think he agreed with me," she rambled.

"I couldn't find where to buy them," came a deep baritone from behind her. It was Chad, clad in a bright orange t-shirt and black pants, carrying many foil-topped plates along each tree trunk-sized arm like a masterful waiter.

"Chad!" Orihime squealed excitedly. Though she bounced on the balls of her feet for a second with glee, she wisely refrained from hugging her giant friend and instead set to removing the plates from him first.

"Uh..." Ichigo started, as nervous as he'd ever been trying to work up the courage to confess to Rukia. "It's good to see you again...Chad."

So close. He'd almost made it through the entire greeting without taking his eyes off of his friend, but in the end, he'd said the man's name into the pavement.

When Chad made his signature grunt, Ichigo looked up once more, his friend's stone cold expression hitting him like a punch in the chest. Then, a moment later, a grin crept into the man's full lips.

Did he not—?

"You too, Ichigo," Chad said with total sincerity.

"How...have you been?" Ichigo forced himself to ask, straining against his utterly stunned mind. His brain felt numb.

Chad brought up both his arms and placed his left forearm in his right hand as if to study it up close. "I met a man in Mexico who was like me. He taught me about my power. He called it 'Fullbring'," he explained. It was the most Ichigo had heard Chad spoken at once in ages, and he knew it would be ages before it happened again.

"Oh," was all Ichigo could think to say. And it only took the span of the short moment of silence that followed for the effects of smalltalk to wear off and for Ichigo to subsequently be filled anew with his guilt. "Listen, Chad, I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," Chad replied, before Ichigo could search for more to say and make an ass of himself, "I'm glad you two finally got together."

As the man patted Ichigo's shoulder and swept past him, Ichigo's mind hitched on the word finally. Had Chad somehow seen something that even the two of them hadn't so far back? Dammit! What else was the lummox hiding behind his curtain of silence?!

They had just finished setting up – of course – when Renji finally made his appearance. And what an appearance it was! His knack, or lack thereof, for choosing earthly clothing was in full, embarrassing swing. He wore a blue shirt with a collar too high and a V-neck too deep, with the sleeves rolled up. On the right breast it bore two patches—one read his surname, Abarai, in English, while the larger one below it simply said "füel" which to Ichigo looked German. Adding to his ensemble was a white and tan cap, turned to the side to ensure it was precisely far enough out of style, beneath which he'd tied his air in a braid that was almost as tight as his white jeans. He'd even added a beaded necklace.

In each hand he carried a pitcher, one filled with bright yellow juice, the other with vibrant orange. "Where did you want these, Orihime?" he asked, correctly deducing who among them was the picnic table organizer. Once she'd set them down in the centre of the table, Ichigo could smell that neither was the fruit juice he'd foolishly assumed, and felt tense. Was it some strange Soul Society concoction?

He examined the liquids so closely as to notice a miniscule chip on the lip of one of the pitchers – a chip he knew well.

"Renji, did that come from my house?" he asked.

Renji had to tear the lamb shank he was destroying out of his mouth and chew like a ravenous hyena before he could answer. "Yeah, I just got back from there," he said nonchalantly.

"Why?"

"I had something to discuss with your dad. I'll tell you about it if it becomes important," was all he said. Ichigo's ire was already starting to rise at being brushed off. It only got worse when Orihime mentioned to Renji that Yuzu had made the kebabs, and the goon went pink and started hurriedly shovelling them into his maw. Damn it, now they both blushed when someone mentioned the other.

He distracted himself by picking a fight with Uryu. It happened that they both decided to attend graduate school, and worse yet, the same one. They'd be stuck together for at least another two years. They were deep in the throes of arguing who was following who around, when Ichigo felt a tug on the unattended lamb shank in his hand.

Rukia had, while he was arguing, taken a bite out of it, and glaze now painted the corner of her mouth as she managed to swallow the large piece she'd taken. He couldn't be sure why she'd done it, but if it had been her way of pulling him out of the argument, it worked. He couldn't help but chuckle at her, his frustration melting away as he did.

That's my wife, he thought, amazed, for the umpteenth time in nine months.

Then she seemed to notice him looking at the glaze and cleared it away with her slender first finger. Then, unexpectedly, she bent over and stuck the morsel squarely on his lips, grinning mischievously all the while.

Ichigo went from zero to feverish in no time flat. He only barely managed to catch Chad's and Orihime's amused looks before they melted away into the tunnel vision that led directly to his wife before him. His heart thundered in his ears. He couldn't tell if he'd swallowed because of the tidbit of glaze she'd put in his mouth or out of pure nerves. She loved to tease him.

Everyone had a good laugh once Ichigo snapped out of it and calmed down. Seeing Ichigo blushing like a schoolboy seemed to make Renji's day, and he constantly jabbed Ichigo about it thereafter, whenever he wasn't pigging out on kebabs.

But when Uryu called him hopeless, Ichigo had to lean in and retort. "You can't talk," he whispered. "You can't even sit next to Orihime." Nobody else had heard. That was for Ichigo's ego alone, not to embarrass anyone.

Uryu came back after a pause, just as quietly and without bitterness: "Orihime and I aren't together anymore."

From afar, their watcher could only pick out their hair colours as if looking at a flower garden: orange, chestnut, red, blacks dotted about—like targets, prey that had flocked together to make the pickings easier. She tapped her cheek impatiently, chaffing against her orders to simply observe. She could take them all out right then and there if she moved quickly enough. The Shinigami weren't even in their spirit forms.

She felt the delicate touch of her sister's hand brushing against her arm. "I know what you're thinking," came her patronizing tone. "We were told to proceed as planned," she lectured.

"Shut up, I know that," snapped the first.

"There's not enough of them yet. Once we make our move, they'll flood in, then we can divide and conquer."

"I know, I said!" It took everything she had not to slap her sister in the face right then. "Jeez, I can't believe he's the one," she said, switching subjects.

"Do you mean him being the one who defeated Aizen?"

"You know that's not what I meant—I didn't even see it happen."

"Ah, then you mean...our father."

The watcher nodded.

"Well, we might as well prepare. Do you have it with you?" asked the sister.

"How dumb do you think I am?" snapped the watcher, raising her Seele Schneider to her sister's eyes as proof, still watching the crowd below.

"Let us go, then."

And with that, they vanished.