Nice to Meet You (Again)

by

Raining Sky Guy

For as long as Ichigo could remember he had had one single dream throughout his life. It came back to him night after night, transporting him to another place, becoming someone else.

Because the life he lived in a dream was not his own.

This little tidbit, weird anecdote of his life as unimportant as it was, was a little embarrassing and –if it ever spread– a bit mortifying, so he had only told three people in his life. His mother, his childhood friend Tatsuki and ever-steadfast Chad.

Other than that, those dreams didn't actually come up much, as nothing really exciting happened in them, and as soon as he struck fifteen years old, he had far more pressing issues at hand than a wayward dream.

Like defeating Aizen.

Ichigo finished reminiscing of his life, as he took the choice. With everything that had happened, it honestly wasn't much of a choice, despite how much he might love his friends and family and him. When Tensa Zangetsu in his final form, for the Final Getsuga Tensho gave him a choice between remaining bonded, his soul whole and complete at the cost of his life, and remaining alive, without his zanpakuto, leaving him in a half-dead state. It was a no-brainer.

Takahashi Rin opened his eyes, blinking drearily the last dredges of sleep. He mused about his latest dreams–visions, memories– as he got ready to work. He pressed last day's leftovers into the microwave as he maneuvered his pants, belt and shoes onto his person. He ate, finished dressing up, washed, shaved and brushed his teeth and he was off.

As he took his usual commute by train to his workplace he daydreamed about those recurrent dreams – nightmares– he kept having. It was already weird how his dream-persona was different than he actually was, but despite being set in Japan, in an actual city (that was not his own, now that he thought about it, he had never stepped foot in Karakura) it had jumped past bizarre and dove right into mother-fucking-insane. With God-wanna-bes, reincarnation cycles, monsters, dead people battling other dead people and then even-more-dead-people, with his character–a fifteen-year-old child for crying out loud– smack in the middle of it and destined to save them all.

(The most eventful thing that had happened to Rin when he was fifteen was that he had fallen off his motorcycle and almost cracked his skull open, though he only got some scratches on his arms and legs and nothing broke. Even so, he had almost sold the piece of junk out of mere spite.)

Also, it was always curious how his dream 'Ichigo' also 'dreamed' about him much like he did (talk about convoluted, couldn't his brain give him a rest at least when he slept?). It would have ranged on creepy had Rin believed, even a little, in previous lives, or reincarnation or anything actually. It wasn't like he was an atheist or a believer… he simply did not spare much thought to spiritual things.

As the doors opened and the people started to exit the train, a pair of silver eyes burned in his memory. There was also that. Unlike him, 'Ichigo' had had a lover. Meaning, he had dreamt himself a lover because he was just that lonely apparently. And gay. What the fuck brain.

Though he couldn't begrudge his imagination much when he found peace whenever he dredged memories of him. And it tugged at his heartstring in a good way whenever he felt 'Ichigo's love for the man as well, as if it was his own. It was useful as stress-relief. And for jerking-off, but that was no one's business.

Which is why he had gotten a bit mad at his most recent dream. It was the final show-off, and 'Ichigo' had been given a choice. He either stayed with his sword and monster, but they all died (which Rin thought was just fucking ridiculously melodramatic, like it mattered that they died together, once you were dead there wasn't anything else for you) or his sword and monster would be gone and 'Ichigo' would go back. Rin had not been happy at his choice. Because, beyond any drama, or promise of a sequel for Rin's dreams, it meant that 'Ichigo' had willingly left their-his lover behind. Talk about ungrateful.

But it made sense to Rin, in a way. Love was flimsy. Easily swayed, easily sold. Easily forgotten.

He pushed those thoughts aside for the rest of the day, greeting his coworkers and superiors before settling down to work.

As always, it was a blur of screens, and calls and appointments made and cancelled. He was invited to a restaurant and he accepted.

Afterwards, he would wake up in his house, with a hangover and no memories of the previous night. Nor of his dreams.

It sometimes happened, Rin assured himself, whenever he drank too much or was too sick the dreams evaded him. And actually he was still a bit mad about last night's ending so he thought it was a fitting revenge.

But then it happened again. Rin awoke with a sense that something was wrong as he had no recollection, once more, of what he had dreamt about. Maybe he had been too tired, he concluded as he prepared for work.

The third time, the tired businessman stared at the little crack on the ceiling above his head with jaded eyes. Maybe there was no continuation. Maybe he had finally reached the last volume, the last episode. His dream channel had stopped airing. He hadn't even gotten a recap like sometimes happened. He hadn't even gotten a flashback of all of 'Ichigo's life a moment before he –Rin supposed– died. Because that was what had happened, right? He had chosen death over anything else. Maybe his mind was just trying to figure out another complex storyline to show him. Maybe.

Rin gave it a week, then tried to actively imagine either a continuation or a whole new storyline to no avail. At last, he gave up.

That, alongside his most recent girlfriend breaking up with him was probably what conjured a character of his imagination into the real world. Or maybe his tired brain was just trying its desperate best to distract him by dolling up some random stranger to create some sort of resemblance to fictional characters.

But they had the same names.

And they were from Karakura. Even though they both were much older than he recalled. No, wait. They were strangers.

Asano Keigo and Kojima Mizuiro.

They couldn't be that strange of a name, right?

Rin sighed dejectedly at his computer screen. Akane popped her head into his cubicle. Asked what was wrong, if he needed to see a doctor. Rin dismissed her with a wave. It was nothing. He was just simply fantasizing about two grown-up-ass-men. Not in that way!

This was reality and he better get a hang on-

He stared into the bathroom's mirror in front of him after his morning routine. Except for his almost-blond brown hair…. He resembled a great deal this Kurosaki Ichigo. 'But of course,' he thought, irritably, 'maybe it's because I fabricated his existence. Why wouldn't he look like me?'

But then Tatsuki appeared.

Not her, personally. It popped up in his e-newspaper. A note about a karate dojo of a certain Arisawa Tatsuki once more being selected to compete in the nationals. He hadn't even been aware there were karate nationals. Which was just stupid. Most serious sports had national championships.

But seeing that was too much.

This wasn't curiosity anymore. He needed to know what was going on for his sanity's sake.

But he was a thirty-year-old man with a stable work. He couldn't go off gallivanting as soon as he felt like it. So he waited for his vacations and informed his boss he might be absent the first days of their return. His boss grumbled, dumped him double the work the final days and grudgingly gave him a three-day leeway. Rin took what he could. Anyway, it was a week-long vacation, so it was alright.

Time to step foot in Karakura Town.

Rin hadn't planned on getting into that car accident. To be honest nobody really planned those things. He hadn't planned on passing out after getting run over and getting dragged to Kurakara's General Hospital nor getting treated by Ishida Ryuuken, still working, despite his all-but-useless left leg.

Rin was having trouble breathing. He should not know his name.

When a black-haired man, with the same sharp facial structure as Ryuuken walked in, Rin's mind murmured, 'Ishida Uryuu'.

When his heartbeat accelerated and his current doctor –whose face he shouldn't find so damn familiar– asked him whether something hurt and if he was feeling alright, Rin felt in the right to mumble, "I think I'm going crazy." Before passing out.

He managed to keep his composure –barely– until he was finally discharged. But, rather unwisely, he did not flee Karakura ASAP. Instead he rented a hotel room and started gathering his thoughts.

Notebook pages were torn, the bed ignored, as Rin tried piecing everything he could, everything he remembered.

'Ichigo'

Who was he?

For the first time since Rin could remembered, he started to question whether this character actually existed.

As the pieces started falling in place, making perfect sense and fitting snuggly into what little of Karakura he had seen, Rin was starting to think that he –Ichigo–had indeed existed and had lived here.

How was Rin related to all of this?

Rin walked a way-too-familiar path for the first time in his life, not missing a step despite not really recognizing where he was going. And suddenly he was staring at an old, eccentric shoten. His heart ached.

But what was he even doing?

His dream and reality were separate subjects and should not be mingled. Even if they were real, he had nothing to do with this Ichigo character, less so with his friends. Rin was thinking that,but his heart stopped when the shogi door slid open.

"A customer? What may I do for you?" A shabby-looking old man said with a flourish, eyes closed and posture disparagingly disinterested, despite going through the trouble of opening the door. Rin nodded to himself, he had gone crazy alright. To think he had ever dreamt of-

The shopkeeper opened his eyes. The silver-steel of his dreams. The thundercloud of his love. No, Ichigo's love. He supposed. Granted, the things in his head would have to be real in the first place. But as recognition failed to register in silver eyes, Rin understood.

Whatever this was, whatever had happened to him, them, whoever, Rin had nothing to do with Ichigo. He had entertained the idea of forgotten memories, but frankly, whatever he could think off was too far-fetched. It was clear that Rin was not Ichigo, not anymore or never in the first place. He had no right to demand anything out of his dream persons. Even if they actually fucking existed.

While Rin had his inner emotional turmoil, Kisuke had waited patiently for his Human not-customer to realize he was in a wrong place and go on his merry way, but he had been shaken by the heartbreak on the young man's face.

"Sorry, uh, I'm- I was, I mean…" Rin deflated into himself as he tried to come up with something to say. "I got lost. I was wondering if you could point me to the Kurosaki clinic." Two sets of eyes blinked in surprise at those words and Rin wanted to slap himself –what if the place didn't even exist in the first place? "I-I was recommended that place."

"Ah," the shopkeeper's face was suddenly–annoyingly– clouded by a paper fan. "May I inquire as to who directed you there?"

"Uh… A friend of mine, why, is there a problem?"

"Well, the clinic has been closed for quite some years I'm afraid." He said, immediately shattering Rin's stupid thoughts (even as a little voice mumbled In awe that it had existed in the first place). "The owner, a friend of mine decided to move to another town for personal reasons. But I can tell you that the doctors at the general hospital are the best ones out there."

"Ah, I see. Thank you. "Rin mumbled, mind numb, too tired to try and censor his words. "You wouldn't happen to know of a good bar 'round here, would you?"

Kisuke blinked at this non-sequitur. "There is one two blocks away from here. The Silver Gambit, if I recall correctly. It's nice but that's perhaps because I'm an old man and I prefer tranquil places." He smiled as the stranger eyed him weirdly, like any normal Human would.

"Silver Gambit. Got it. Thanks." Rin mumbled, turning away.

As he walked away from the shop he couldn't help the stupid sense of heartache weighing him down. But maybe it was heartburn. His doctor had told him to be careful with alcohol and stress. He should begin to listen to him, to avoid weird things like this.

It was a good place, this bar. Tranquil, just as Kisuke had said. Perfect for weary souls just like him. 'Idiot', Rin told himself, 'you're only thirty and the other idiot can't be much older'.

Rin found himself ignoring his doctor's advice once more as he continued on returning to the bar night after night after night. Burning away both his money and his pains.

When he spotted the silver-eyed man once more his muddled brain stopped thinking straight.

'It's definitively heartburn.'

"Oh, if it isn't my dear customer. You found this place enjoyable then?" The forsaken man said with an easy grin (Rin was already absolutely positive his brain was neurotic so he didn't give much thought to the forlorn expression he had seen on the other seconds before he caught sight of him). Rin grunted his agreement even as he inwardly mourned the loss of his silence and privacy as the stranger decided to take a seat beside him.

"You come here often?" Rin found it proper to inquire, seeing that his uninvited guest had no intention of leaving.

"Not really. But I enjoy a good cup of liqueur every now and then." Kisuke said just before telling the approaching bartender. "I'll have an appletini, thank you."

Rin couldn't help it. He snorted into his beer.

Kisuke rolled his eyes, even as the other hacked for breath, a grin spread wide on his foam-covered lips. He held his freshly made drink in one hand as he waited for the other. "Yes?" He asked.

"Sorry, sorry. I just… I'm sorry but you have got to be kidding me. 'Good cup of liqueur'? An appletini?"

"I felt like having one and I'm not so unsure of my masculinity as you all people seem to be. I can hold my alcohol, however."

"Oh? I would have to see it." Rin challenged, wiping his upper lip. For some reason his grin was met and his challenge accepted.

Some vodka, some whisky, couple of beers and a lot of shots later found a couple of drunken idiots sharing a laugh together.

"So what are you doing here, my dear customer? I gather you're not from the area?"

"Had to take some days off. And to my luck I was run over by a car barely stepping here."

"Oh? What horrible luck. Were you greatly injured?"

"Nah, not really. Also I heal quickly. Though my broken nose lowers my already mediocre looks rating." Rin pointed to the swollen appendage and Kisuke had to frown, feeling like there was something familiar in this stranger he was not getting. He quickly dismissed it as he decided he had to flaunt his own 'good-looks'.

"Too bad you couldn't be more like me, right?" He said, genial smile in place as he arched a coy eyebrow that had Rin's stomach doing somersaults. To ignore it, the businessman laughed in a high tone, before chugging down another beer.

"Bastards like youuu," he slurred then, drunk off his ass. "Deserve to be mauled in the face by evil fangirls. Or arrested for how good-looking you are. Like, save something for us!"

"I'm flattered." Kisuke said snorting when Rin had to pause to blink drunkenly at him. He had tried to say something insulting hadn't he? Wait what had he actually-? Whatever.

"So where are you from, young man?"

"Born and bred in Tokyo."

"Is this your first time here in Karakura?"

The question took longer for it to register and a part of Kisuke decided they had had quite enough unless he gave his current partner kidney failure or something.

"…Yesh. And almost got murdered by a car. What a nice way to welcome us tourists."

"And haven't we met somewhere before?" Kisuke finally got around to ask, having been disturbed at the feeling of familiarity this Human exuded. The other jumped in his seat, startled for some reason and in the brief moment he had looked away and worked the muscles to string a denial and Kisuke to laugh his agreement, the man had already thought up three different conspiracy theories, five separate fake identities of his customer and seven different ways in which to save his own hide once more, regardless of who had been sent after him.

Kisuke wanted to keep talking to have something else, a leverage, a hint, anything, when his suspect hiccupped rather loudly before passing out into his empty mug. Kisuke blinked owlishly at the graceless sprawl of limbs even as he burned the alcohol within him with help of his own reiatsu.

Whoever this was, he was completely out of it. Kisuke was ready to leave him be –let the bartender deal with him– but a hint of remorse hit him. If, just if, this Human's tale was correct, he had just walked out of a car incident, not even in his own hometown and after today, who knew if the man still had any cash on him to spend this night, and return back home.

He resented Ichigo's influence on him. Even if they had been apart for several years now, he couldn't help but think that he had softened way too much, thanks to a certain strawberry.

A certain strawberry that had left him behind.

To be continued

AN.

Idk what to tell you, man. I don't even remember how I got this idea. And ffs, this is getting published before my first UraIchi story. Bit of a weird ending, but I'm still figuring out how to work out this story.

Who is this mysterious Takahashi and how is he related to Ichigo?

Lemme know your thoughts in a review!