Disclaimer: Bleach, its concepts and characters and everything involved, is not mine. Durr.
Title: Crossroads
Rating: M/Mature (Not exactly suitable for kids)
Summary: "If you want to save her, first you have to save yourself." Growing up has its own set of tests and trials, as the Asano siblings come to discover.
Characters: Keigo, Mizuho; appearances from pretty much EVERYBODY at some point.
Pairing(s): Implied and/or unrequited Keigo/Tatsuki; Ikkaku/Mizuho. More or less. Any pairings that may show up should be considered 'potential', as I kind of suck at romantic junk and I'm not generally in the habit of hooking canon characters up with one another (unless they're OCs).
Warnings: Potential SLASH, or FEMSLASH (thanks, Chizuru). Violence, foul language and mature themes not suitable for the poor, poor chilluns. :( Potential OOC characters. Use of OCs in the way of random Asano family members (like the mysterious parental units, aunts, cousins, etc.)
Extra warnings: I know some people have an issue with the anime filler episodes, so I might as well add this in. I myself, do not have a problem with them; while I don't consider them to be canon, I may draw on them as reference for details later on in this story. (I won't include everything, however, because some stuff really doesn't add up/I haven't seen them all. But whatever. This is going to become an AU at some point anyway, so whee!)
Further: This is my first Bleach fanfic, ever. And I have no beta reader. Please forgive any aforementioned OOC-ness and spelling errors. (But if you see any instances of junk spelled like crap, or if you have any suggestions/helpful criticisms to improve my writing/characterization, let me know. I'm open to that, provided it's not useless "omfg ur an idiot an a tard!11one die fgt" flames because, well... pfft.)
Important Note: This chapter takes place sometime in the middle of the Arrancar Arrival arc, so after Keigo met Ikkaku (and took him home), but before the whole "Fake Karakura" thing with Aizen.
Prologue: Family Values
Keigo groaned inwardly and squeezed his eyes shut. It seemed an eternity had passed between the moment Ōshima's clenched fist released his collar and the next, when the dull thump of his shoulder signalled the beginning of an achy night. He kept his eyes determinedly closed for the initial streak of pain but, in an act of increasingly vicious defiance to tradition, chose to growl at the invading hand as it closed on his bicep.
The owner of that hand – Ōshima's friend, if jerks like that had any – paused. "Oi." An edge of uneasiness crept into his voice, and Keigo fixed with him a withering glare. Then he fixed the guy's hand with the same, before looking back into his face. He growled again for good measure. "Th'fuck are you lookin' at like that for?"
"Eh?" Ōshima's face appeared over the other guy's shoulder. It darkened considerably, and he reached around to snag the front of Keigo's shirt and drag him forward. "I don't want ya lookin' at me like that. Me or my friend. S'at about, huh?" He shook the smaller boy for emphasis. "Punk!"
Keigo kicked him.
A while later, the happy jingle of a cell phone brought the brunet out of his stupor. He glanced slowly from side to side, taking in the empty alley, his scattered schoolwork, tattered satchel, and... ah. There.
"Neechan," Keigo muttered into the phone in greeting. He didn't bother getting up.
Mizuho's initial breath had been a deep one, but it cut off suddenly. "Keigo," she said after a lengthy pause, her voice lowering. "Where the hell are you?"
"Mn, a coupl'a blocks from home."
She was quiet again for a short time. Keigo waited.
"Mom said she'll reheat your dinner," Mizuho said finally. "Dad and I will come get you."
"Sure."
She huffed. "You sound like shit, Keigo."
"Hmnm," he agreed. "I bet I look it."
In the end, it was decided that Keigo looked worse than shit. It took a little while to get him into the car; he vomited once on his father's shirt, and then again on the upholstery. By the time they reached Karakura General the smell had become so powerful that Keigo's father had ordered all windows be rolled down.
"I will accompany your brother inside," their father announced, and Keigo didn't need to look at his face to know that it was severe. "In the meantime, get this mess cleaned up."
For a moment he actually was glad that he didn't have the energy required to stand on his own, because that meant he would have had the energy to be embarrassed. So Keigo simply allowed his head to hang as his father's grip shifted on his waist before they began the slow half-march into the hospital.
"Oooh, ouch," somebody muttered in passing.
Keigo's father grumbled something unintelligible in response before hauling the teen around and plopping him down in a chair. Keigo tried to ignore the bright flush in his cheeks that grew when, in the next moment, his father made a half-turn and hollered, "Nurse!"
Quick feet approached, followed by a woman's scolding tone. "Masaru-san, you have been told many times now that there is no shouting in the—oh. Oh, dear."
Cool hands tilted his head up, and Keigo found himself looking at the nurse. He didn't have time to wonder whether it was the same nurse as his last visit before his suspicions were confirmed. She sighed, a deep, weary sound. "Again?" He averted his eyes, and she turned to his father – Masaru. "I'll arrange for a wheelchair, and notify the doctor."
"Of course."
Keigo knew he was in deep shit. He shouldn't have kicked Ōshima; he knew that doing so was tantamount to stomping on a lion's tail. His father's silence was enough of an indicator that he was going to get the lecture of a lifetime, particularly because he could feel waves of fury washing off the man. The slight tremor in his hands was worrisome, and the way he loomed over Keigo like some terrible black mountain of doom made him want to puke again.
He knew they only had limited insurance. And he knew that they weren't finished paying for his medical bills from the car accident. The car repairs weren't paid off yet, either. Keigo's uncle was in financial trouble. His grandmother was sick. Money they didn't need to waste frivolously was now being wasted on Keigo's own stupidity.
All because he couldn't keep his damn mouth shut and his feet to himself.
His eyes stung just a bit as the nurse returned with a wheelchair, and his father helped him into it. He bit his tongue against the whimper he wanted to release at the grinding he felt in his hip, squeezed the armrests until his knuckles turned white as he was wheeled down to the examination room.
"Keigo-san," the nurse said suddenly. "Are you all right?"
No. "Aa."
His father chose that moment to stuff a cloth forcefully against his face. Keigo's response was a weak protest, which came off rather like a grunt and squeal combined. His father scowled imperiously at him. Keigo could see his right eyebrow twitching.
"Boy," he said in a low voice. He coughed, frowned more deeply. "You are going to ruin your school uniform if you allow your nose to keep bleeding all over it."
You've already cost me a fortune, Keigo translated darkly. He reached up, closing his hand over the cloth and pressing it to his nose more firmly. His father coughed again.
He didn't think his night could get any worse.
"Asano-san," a cold voice greeted as Masaru thrust his son through the examination room's door. Ishida Ryūken – clipboard in hand – fixed the teen with an unreadable look, before gesturing vaguely to his father.
"Let's proceed, shall we?"
"This is the third time you've come to my hospital, Keigo-san," Ishida's father calmly stated. He thumbed through a devilishly innocent-looking stack of papers, glasses flashing every now and then. It made Keigo want to hit him. He hated not being able to see people's eyes.
"Yeah."
"Each time, you've come bearing worse injuries than the last," the doctor continued. "You've also managed to aggravate most of those you obtained in the collision. Thankfully for you, the hip fracture is merely inflamed – your father tells me this is due to your part-time job?"
Keigo tapped his fingers nervously. "I guess? I dunno."
Ryūken raised a delicate eyebrow. "You handle the animals at Karakura's shelter. I was told you also assist with training the adoptable candidates."
A huff. "I'm a glorified dog-walker. So?"
It might have been a trick of the light, but Keigo thought the doctor smiled. Just a little. The effect was ruined by his glasses flashing again, though. "Nothing. I simply want to insure that you aren't trying to overdo it."
"Oh."
Pushing his glasses up further on his nose, the man flipped through a few more pages. Then, he set aside the clipboard and faced Keigo fully. "I realize that this will be a difficult question for you, but quite frankly, I have had enough."
The sharpness of his tone brought Keigo out of the brief lull he'd managed to crawl into, and he fixed the older man with an anxious look. Ryūken's eyes were hard, his face now like stone.
"Who is the one assaulting you?"
"..."
"It has come to the point where I am of a mind to involve the police," Ryūken told him, narrowing his eyes. Keigo gulped. "I have recommendations to give your father to assist in dealing with this, as you obviously haven't told him who your assailant is either."
A long period of silence passed, before Ryūken broke it once more. "Asano Keigo, you arrived here with a dislocated shoulder and a concussion. You are covered with bruises and lacerations – some of which had become infected, requiring antibiotics. Do you know how much gravel I picked out of your scalp? Your wrist is sprained. You may have to go through therapy for your hip. Again."
He leaned back in his chair, eyeing Keigo closely.
"You understand my concern."
It took a few minutes of silence before Ryūken realized that Keigo was crying.
The ride home was, to say the least, uncomfortable. Doctor Ishida had tended to Keigo's injuries to the best of his ability, with instructions on how to best redress the lacerations requiring stitches. Throughout the ordeal, Masaru's face had grown a shade darker and his nostrils had begun to flare.
Mizuho's return – a thunderclap in an otherwise peaceful lobby, which drew the first real smile out of Keigo since his encounter with Ōshima earlier that night – was a welcome distraction from his father's grimace. It helped that she'd brought them both clean clothes, and Ryūken had taken Masaru's sudden departure to change in stride (he still had his offspring's vomit on his shirt, after all), imparting the same treatment information to the girl as he had given to their father.
Keigo didn't really mind that the ass of his pants were soaked through by the time they got home. The car upholstery was clean now, and it didn't smell like puke, and nobody brought up that he'd hurled in the car at all so he managed to avoid that embarrassment. Besides, he was feeling a bit loopy from all the drugs, so it was a wonder he even noticed that his pants were wet.
He was a bit startled to find a sleeping bag on his bedroom floor, though, when he stumbled into the room after enduring his mother's fussing. "No jerking off for you tonight," Mizuho hissed under her breath, winking. Keigo's face flushed.
"Neechan, you're gross!"
"Girl," Masaru shouted – unnecessarily loud for three in the morning. "Put your brother to bed. Now!"
"Yes, Father," Mizuho called back.
"And make sure he sleeps!" he bellowed again.
"Yes, sir."
"I'm serious! I won't have the two of you up all night, giggling and talking about boys, or-or whatever it is young people do at night!" Masaru continued to bellow. "Ishida-san insisted upon rest, so you best make sure your brother does just that!"
Keigo looked appalled. "Boys?"
"What boys?" Mizuho yelled. "And if you don't stop hollering, he'll never get to sleep!"
Masaru grunted something rude, and just before their parents' bedroom door shut with a slam, both teens thought they heard the distinctive twitter of their mother's amused laugh beneath his muttered curses.
Rolling her eyes, Mizuho turned back to Keigo. "I guess we could talk about boys," she offered wryly.
"Ew." Keigo made a face. "No, thanks."
"Suit yourself." She settled herself down into the sleeping bag, half-watching her brother as he watched her drowsily. "If you need anything, throw a pillow at me."
"If I did that, you might finish me off."
"Yup."
Keigo reached over, tapping her arm. His sister sighed, smiling a little bit sadly as she hooked her pinky finger around his. "Thanks, neechan."
"Anytime. See you at breakfast."
Breakfast, to Keigo's surprise, was not a sombre affair. His mother fussed over him, examined his outward injuries (again), and were it not for his father's timely interference the teenager would likely have found himself stripped naked and facing a terrible foe: his mom's crying face. And possibly, her temper.
He still hadn't figured out which of the two was worse.
"I'm going to call the school today," his mother informed them as she placed the last plate down on the table. "Mizuho will pick up any homework you miss, dear. Stay home and rest."
"Wife," Masaru grunted, his mouth full of bacon, "Don't coddle the boy."
"You were the one to suggest he stay home, love." She cocked an eyebrow as he sputtered, bacon bits clinging to the corner of his mouth. Keigo couldn't help but to stare, morbidly fascinated by the display.
"What is said in the bedroom stays there, woman!"
Mizuho made a gagging noise.
Keigo tore his eyes from his father's bacon-adorned mouth to look down at his toast with an unfathomable look. He shoved a piece into his mouth before he could laugh. Or say something really stupid.
"Oh!" said his mother suddenly with a snap of her fingers. "Speaking of which..." Mizuho snorted loudly into her orange juice at the look on Masaru's face. "I simply forgot – well, with all that happened yesterday, it slipped my mind. My dear," she looked at her husband and smiled winningly. "We are going to have a baby!"
Silence.
"You guys still have sex?"
Keigo shut his eyes, mouth twitching wildly as his sister's incredulous voice broke through that deafening silence. "Oh, my God. Neechan!"
Masaru looked offended. "Well that certainly isn't any of your business," he told her. Then he turned to his wife. "Kazue, this is true?"
Kazue clapped, delighted. "Oh, yes! Do you remember the work party we attended?"
"Too much information!" Keigo broke in, before his father could respond. It was a last-ditch, frantic effort to avoid hearing anything gross, because he was well aware of just how drunk the two of them had been when they arrived home that particular night. "No details! People are eating, here!"
"Hmm, I see," Masaru said, ignoring his son. "I thought you'd been getting rather fat."
"DAD!"
"Eat your bacon, before I do," he commanded them.
Mizuho scowled. "Is this really the time for bacon?" she demanded.
"Yes," her father replied shortly. "Get on with it!"
"But, mom just said she was going to have a baby!"
Masaru sniffed. "Does it look to you as though she's ready to pop it out upon the floor at any moment? No? Eat, girl."
Keigo's eyes flickered back and forth between his sister and father, before turning back to his toast. Then, almost as an afterthought – indeed, it may have been, except that he held his father's calculating stare evenly as he did – the teen speared three pieces of bacon with his fork and stuffed them into his mouth. Masaru harrumphed.
"Mine," Keigo muttered with a territorial squint.
"Not for long," his father shot back, under his breath.
Mizuho made a grand show of chewing on her bacon. "Bet you it's a girl," she announced importantly between swallows. There was no room to argue who she directed this statement to.
Keigo frowned at her. "We're betting on this?"
"Yep."
He shook his head. "Nah."
The sound of a fork clattering loudly reverberated through the room. Mizuho whirled to her feet, an accusing finger stabbing viciously at the spot between her brother's eyes. "You're too late! There's no reneging on a bet!"
"AM NOT! It probably will be a girl."
Mizuho paused.
"But she's going to be gay, 'cause you're really manly. And insane. You corrupt the universe."
Keigo smirked as his sister's eyes narrowed into slits. "So it doesn't count, eh? Hmph," she said, plopping back down into her seat. She eyed him critically. "I guess that's why you're such a wuss, huh."
"Yes," said Keigo, his voice devoid of any inflection.
Mizuho sneered. "And here I've been slipping detergent into your food when I didn't need t- H-HEY! DAD!"
Masaru's eyes held an unholy glint as his arm slowly crept back across the table, his fork having successfully speared a few pieces of bacon from his daughter's plate. "I warned you, girl," he intoned in a low voice.
"I'll have you know that there will be none of that rude talk when the baby arrives." Kazue fixed both of her children with an appropriately stern look, waiting until they appeared sufficiently cowed before continuing. "The doctor estimates – ah, let me see – yes, that will be sometime in March? Yes. And we'll have to do a bit of rearranging, of course!"
"I'm not giving up my room," Mizuho said.
"And I'm not sharing," Keigo added.
Their mother smiled. "Certainly not. We do have a guest bedroom, after all, that would work quite nicely."
Frowning, Keigo stabbed his fork into the table a mere inch from his father's creeping fingers.
It came as no surprise to Keigo that Mizuiro didn't bother stopping by his house before meeting up with Ichigo, even though Keigo hadn't himself bothered to let his friend know that he wasn't going to school. What surprised him was finding the majority of his social circle on his doorstep during class roll call.
Ichigo's face was probably the most telling of their collective first impression; his perpetual frown disappeared under the onslaught of shock once he got a good look at his pajama-clad classmate. Seconds that seemed to last an eternity oozed by, until Keigo finally found his voice.
"Er."
"Wow," Inoue whispered, her eyes wide as saucers.
Mizuiro stared. "What happened to you?"
"Who happened to you?" Arisawa muttered.
Sado ground his teeth from somewhere in the back.
Keigo kept his eyes on Ichigo simply because he really didn't want to know what sort of face Ishida was making, because they weren't much of friends except by proxy, but he wasn't entirely certain he liked the expression the taller teen was developing, either.
"Shouldn't... er... well, you're late," he said, lamely. "For school."
"Duh."
Shifting uncomfortably beneath Ichigo's stare – empowered by the stares of the others – Keigo added, "Nee-chan's picking up my, um, homework." So you don't have any reason to be here. By the way, why are you here?
Ishida adjusted his glasses. Keigo only saw it because they flashed in the corner of his eye. He frowned a little, wondering if his dad was the type to rat to family, patient confidentiality be damned. Ryūken had been particularly insistent on finding out who kept beating the crap out of his patient lately. Plus, in Keigo's experience, those flashy-glasses guys who hide their eyes tended to be super sneaky.
"You broke Ōshima's crotch," Ichigo said abruptly into the silence, in a rather loud voice.
Keigo flinched. "Er."
"Karin saw him last night," he said, as the others murmured amongst themselves. Narrowing his eyes intensified the hard look he levelled Keigo with, eliciting the reaction he both expected and hoped for. The brunet kept his eyes turned down as far as he dared, opting to look at his friend's chin.
"Eh... yeah," Keigo finally sighed. What was the point? He never could hold up against the third degree, especially if it was Ichigo giving it to him. Or his mom.
Ichigo's impressively dangerous aura swelled briefly, before it snapped. His lips twitched upwards into that weird little smirk he only wore when he decided to stop trying hard to be cool and actually let his mischievous sense of humour through. It made him look less scary. "Good."
Looking up quickly, the brunet saw his best friend's face adjust itself to something a little more abashed. He blinked. "Good?" he repeated, cautiously.
"Yeah. Said he bugged Yuzu after school yesterday, before she got off practice. Apparently by then somebody else got to him first." He reached back to scratch the back of his head. "When you didn't show up with Mizuiro I figured he handed your ass to you again, but maybe you got in a good shot."
"Ah..." How the hell was he supposed to respond to that? Was Karin going to kick his ass now, too, for stealing her thunder?
Ichigo's little smirk became even more crooked. "I'll let Karin know, yeah? Yuzu likes you well enough, so we'll probably come by later to drop off one of her soups."
He turned a bit pink. "She doesn't have to-"
Ichigo snorted derisively. "Look, both of my sisters can't stand Ōshima. Difference is, Yuzu won't say a bad thing about anyone if she can help it, even if she hates the bastard's guts." When Keigo opened his mouth to interrupt Ichigo raised one imperious finger. "You know word's gonna get out anyway that you broke his crotch. They'll find out. And if you refuse Yuzu's cooking you'll piss off Karin."
"I thought you liked her cooking," Mizuiro piped up.
"I do!"
"So you're not gonna say otherwise." Ichigo looked triumphant.
Well, that was true enough. He couldn't count how many times he'd gotten sick – or had his ass kicked – only to end up with Ichigo at his door bearing his little sister's home-cooked meals as a get well present. Keigo loved Yuzu's cooking. For a little girl – at least to him she was little, and it didn't help that she was physically diminutive – she was like a beast among chefs.
Finally, he smiled. A little tentative, but Ichigo seemed to accept it. "All right. Thanks."
"No problem."
To be continued...
It is my personal feeling that I royally mangled Ishida's dad's characterization somehow, but I am so far removed from the character that I've no idea.
Questions, comments, crits – I'd love to hear from you guys. And again, don't be afraid to point out errors, wherever they may roam.