Happy Birthday fish, this is for you.
...In hindsight maybe I should've written something a little more lighthearted.
Tite Kubo owns Bleach. I own, uh, the portion of my brain that spat out this monstrosity.
"Sensei, may I use the restroom?"
Uryu had already excused himself from the classroom and Chad simply sneaked out the back door of the classroom somehow, bulky frame and all. Now Orihime, acting as if her strange idea of a lunch actually gave her stomach pains, was leaving as well. This Hollow must be particularly troublesome.
Shakespeare, Ichigo, focus on the Shakespeare. After all, it was impossible to derive anything else from his classmates' departure. No way of knowing if the Hollow was battle-orientated or incredibly sneaky. No way to tell if it was a single Vasto Lorde or a shitload of Gillians. He couldn't even check if his friends were winning - all he could do was pray that he'll see them alive and well the next day.
"If you're still paying attention, Kurosaki, please tell us what you think of Macbeth's attitude towards the witch's prophecy."
So much for focus. Thankfully Ichigo had read this book dozens of times, even if it was in English and not Japanese. Shakespeare wrote good literature and Ichigo appreciated that. His answer was almost mechanical, a repeat of thoughts he mulled over in private. The teacher seemed satisfied with it nonetheless.
He preferred it was just him out there. Then they wouldn't have to go out and fight - he would've been just as powerful, if not more so, as the three of them combined. Outside of the most dire of threats, he by himself would've been enough. Well, he and some stupid midget who refused to listen if he told her to stay in class and away from danger.
Her seat was empty too, for different reasons.
###
This was where he belonged, right?
No more dead people running around, invading his room, asking him about life in a living society. He didn't have to worry about the possibility of a stray spirit around every corner. Life or death struggles with monsters? No longer a concern.
Normal. That's what he is. That's what he should be.
Not like his father was once known as Isshin Shiba, former captain of the Tenth Division. Not like everyone in Ichigo's family besides him possessed some sort of spiritual awareness. Even Yuzu, who couldn't see them clearly, still knew if they were around. And Karin? As if Ichigo didn't know what she's been up to. Just because he couldn't see Hollows didn't mean he couldn't tell some of the cuts and bruises could not have come from a simple soccer game - they looked too much like wounds he suffered in the past.
He should say something. Tell Yuzu that he's fine and Karin to stop recklessly fighting Hollows. Tell his stupid oyaji to quit the half-assed ambushes every morning and the pitying look that accompanies them as if he understood how his son felt. But looking at their expressions hurt. It reminds him he's not ok, even if he pretends he is. And they notice.
Just like how they notice his closet remained untouched, as if it was waiting for someone to return.
###
Ichigo had a habit for walking through suspicious places like dark alleyways and abandoned clearings around Karakura Town. It helped him blow off steam.
Specifically, the thugs that follow in him let him blow off steam. They're always there to ambush him in these places, as if they knew he walked in every once in a while just to wait and beat them up. He doubted they were truly masochistic and instead actually believed they could win. Then again, sometimes they seem a little too eager.
Today, for example, Ichigo was surrounded by around fifty members of a local gang when he visited the Karakura outskirts. He never remember which gang was which - after a while names and faces began to blur. Every revenge-driven speech sounded the same and every fight ended the same: quick and brutally decisive.
Word around the gangster underground was that Ichigo Kurosaki was a living phantom. When he fought, you could barely see him, they said. Any person or group of people who dared crossing him ended up flat on the ground with no clue how they got there. All they saw was a blur of orange.
If he could use shunpo they wouldn't have seen him at all. Not even if fifty of them attempted to surround them. To a bystander, it would've looked like thugs were being thrown left and right by some invisible force.
But he couldn't, so he would have to settle with each assailant's fear-stricken gaze as they saw a streak of orange approach them and send them to the dark abyss of unconsciousness. Ten ambulances would be enough.
Fifty thugs, he mused after his tenth phone call, hurt less than a kick from a girl not even 145 centimeters tall.
###
Every once in a while Ichigo would find himself in front of Urahara's shop.
Sometimes he wasn't sure why he bothered. He didn't need the wares offered - the ones worth buying were no longer any use to him and there was no way he was going to buy condoms from Urahara.
What Urahara was thinking when he stocked up on them, Ichigo couldn't imagine. It was best that way – questioning anything the store owner did was guaranteed to be a headache.
All things aside, there was no practical reason to be there. Yet Ichigo knew, in the end, he would slide open the doors, looking for familiar faces. And maybe, if he was lucky, someone from the other side would be visiting.
Not that he's had any luck on the matter.
This time around Urahara shoved a number of new appetizers onto Ichigo. They were "heavenly," as the shopkeeper put it, and Urahara encouraged Ichigo to share with the rest of his family. He was a bit wary – it wouldn't be the first time Urahara tried to drug him – but since he was told to share with his sisters he assumed the food in his arms were safe. Urahara was an absolute troll but he had a moral conscience.
"By the way, are you aware Karin-chan has been perusing my shop as well?"
He never asked about Karin before. Yuzu, yes, but she frequented here to get snacks set at absurdly low prices (Ichigo had kept a vigilant watch on the Jinta for doing so ever since). Then again, given her recent activity, Karin probably started coming by for Urahara's spiritual items.
"She has been hunting Hollows and doing a really bad job keeping it a secret from me. I'm not really surprised."
"Ah, yes, she did say that it was best if you didn't know. Said something like, 'Ichi-nii would stop at nothing to keep me from fighting if he found out,' " Urahara's impersonation of Karin inspired bloody thoughts that Ichigo made sure to suppress. "I'm surprised you haven't done exactly that."
"What would I do? Follow her wherever she goes? I could certainly try but if a Hollow found us I would only be a liability. Even if I put my life on the line, it wouldn't help. She wouldn't leave if she thought I was in danger. In the end I just told my friends and oyaji to keep an eye out for her safety."
"Worry less, my friend. She's in good hands."
"I prefer those hands to be my own." The doors rattled as Ichigo stepped out the shop. "Later."
###
"What do you think?"
Four paws landed on the floor with a thud. "The Ichigo-kun I knew would've never said that."
"Hm," Urahara poured some milk into a saucer before setting it in front of a black cat. "His eyes looked different. They lacked that hard edge. Now they're just listless."
"He's looking for something that he knows he won't find. I don't think he's taking it very well." The cat lapped up the milk a few times. "Tastes like shit. Urahara, get something better."
"You dare claim my store's milk is inadequate? I'm pained, Yoruichi. No milk for you." A paw swatted his hand away from the saucer as Yoruichi glared at Urahara, daring him to take her milk away. He decided a tactical retreat was in order.
This meant fanning himself as he listened to steady slurps. His thoughts drifted back to his last visitor. "Truly a bird with clipped wings, longing for the sky he knew but can no longer reach."
"Can the poetics," the cat said. She lifted the saucer to her mouth with her front paws and drained the milk in an utterly non-feline manner. "I know you, what are you up to?"
"Don't look at me like that. I was just thinking it might be best if Soul Society gets one of their strongest back in working order."
"Yes, because you're so concerned about their lack of fighting power. And how do you plan to do this, may I ask?" She pointed to the empty saucer with one paw. "More milk, by the way."
"I have a few ideas. Might need to talk to some people," Urahara shrugged as Yoruichi dug in on her refill. "I don't know how this will play out yet but it's worth a shot."
"Is it really right to involve him with Soul Society's problems again? There's no escaping the politics if he goes back."
"He's not like us, Yoruichi. If playing the game means protecting those he cares about, he's up for it. And if it doesn't, he'll just break the rules and worry about it later. But there's no way he doesn't want to go back. He's left too much behind. Besides,
"Even birds with clipped wings belong in the sky."
This is supposed to be a birthday fic for a friend, but to be honest I'm not quite that comfortable with writing for this fandom. I've read Bleach before, but not with as much scrutiny as I feel is required to accurately portray various characters.
With that in mind, please, if there is anything, anything at all, that you as a reader feel requires fixing, or even just a suggestion, please tell me. Leave a review addressing the point, anonymous or not, or drop a PM. I would greatly appreciate any help I can get in the next three or four weeks before I present this to my friend. Well, assuming she doesn't go around looking for fanfics and happen to find this early, she doesn't visit this site last time I checked...