A/N: This story is turning out far more angsty and dark than I had originally intended, therefore if anyone has a problem/trigger with self-injury I'd suggest you stop reading as there is mention of it in this chapter. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

Song for this chapter: Coldplay - "Fix You"


Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

The bell above the door jingled softly as the ginger-haired teen crept inside, glancing around the familiar front room of the place where he'd spent so much time before but hadn't seen in months. Everywhere he looked the phantom images of himself, Kisuke and the others appeared; sitting in the dining room drinking tea as they discussed Bountos and rebel zanpakuto, and how to infiltrate Hueco Mundo in order to rescue Orihime. Endless hours in the underground training room with Kisuke, bleeding, sweating and growing stronger with every blow and counter-attack given and received. Standing in this very spot in the entryway, laughing his ass off as he watched Renji running around like a chicken with its head cut off to do all the chores the shopkeeper delegated to him, all while that red-haired brat Jinta taunted him and called him a free-loader. A lifetime of memories existed in every corner of this place. Being here again felt like getting a bucket of ice water thrown in his face, leaving him shivering from top to bottom.

He was so lost in his reverie that he didn't even see the shopkeeper walk in, fan in hand but lowered at his side, his worried eyes shadowed by his dark green and white striped bucket hat. "Kurosaki-kun?" He asked uncertainly, looking the boy – No, he's not a boy anymore, Kisuke thought, He's a young man – up and down several times.

Ichigo jolted like he'd just stepped on a live electrical wire, meeting the other man's gray eyes with almost panicked red-brown orbs. "Oh, I, um, uh, hah..." He stammered, his hand almost subconsciously reaching back for the door. "H – Hi, U – Urahara-san." What the hell am I doing here? I'm such an idiot, this was a terrible idea. "Um, g – gomen, I shouldn't h – have come in here, this was s – stupid, I'll just l – leave now..." He turned on his heels, ready to bolt.

Kisuke stepped forward, holding out a hand as if to stop the teen, but didn't touch him. "Wait, you just got here, you don't have to go running off so fast," the shopkeeper tried to sound casual, but couldn't help the edge of concern that colored his voice. Ichigo, what is wrong? You look terrible. His smoky eyes trailed down the expanse of the former substitute shinigami's form, moving from his face over his body; those brandy-colored eyes that used to hold such fire and determination were now dull and melancholy, encircled by dark, purplish-black bags that told of many restless nights. His soft peach skin was sallow and looked tightly stretched over cheekbones that weren't so prominent before, his face much thinner now. He'd let his hair grow back out to the longish, shaggy style it was in right before he'd lost his powers, but the orange locks had lost their luster and hung limp and oily around his shoulders. And Kisuke was sure nothing had changed about the Karakura High School uniform, but it looked different in a way the shopkeeper couldn't quite place. Then it dawned on him.

That outfit used to fit him like a glove, hugging him in all the right places to show off his muscular, toned body. Now he's gotten so thin it just hangs on him, Kisuke mused sadly. He needed to keep Ichigo there long enough to figure out what was going on with him. "Are you okay, Ichigo?"

Ichigo looked back at him with deer-in-the-headlights wide eyes, but then recovered and put on his best 'everything is fine' smile. The one Urahara learned a long time ago was completely fake. "Of course, I've never been better! What would make you think otherwise?" He gave a throaty, disingenuous laugh. "I just... Um, well, I've been looking for a job because I need to start raising money for my own car. Tou-san is letting me use his right now, but I'll need one for when I go off to college next year. So, I was wondering if you have some work around here that needs to be done?"

Well, at least that's a lie I can work with. "Actually, I'm glad you asked because we have been looking for some more help around here. Since Renji-kun hasn't been around the shop has gotten quite messy with no one to sweep the floors and help me clean up. And I think I can afford to pay you enough if you're up for the job. Can you start today?"

For the first time since he'd walked in the teenager's cocoa eyes lit up, and Kisuke released an inner sigh of relief at the sight. "Yeah, sure," Ichigo agreed, slipping off his shoes and dropping his backpack next to them on the floor.

"Great. Well, you can start by moving some boxes up here to the front room, they're in the back," Urahara instructed, knowing full well Tessai had already moved them to the right spot earlier in the day. "I'll show you which ones," he said, turning toward the hallway as the ginger-haired teen followed him.

"Okay, no problem. So, you haven't seen Renji at all lately? What about Rukia or Byakuya? Anybody?" Ichigo asked, hoping that he didn't seem overly eager for the information.

"Iie, Kurosaki-kun, I'm afraid I haven't. With Aizen captured and the war over, I suppose the old man doesn't see much of a need to send any shinigami to Karakura Town these days," Kisuke replied, hating to see the crestfallen look on Ichigo's face when he glanced over his shoulder.

"Oh... Oh yeah, I guess that makes sense," Ichigo answered quietly, chewing his lip as he adverted his eyes from Kisuke's gaze. Of course it does, you're such a baka, Ichigo, why would you think they would come around? To check up on me? Yeah, right, he reprimanded himself once again.

"I'm sure they miss you as much as you miss them."

Ichigo gave the shopkeeper his infamous scowl. "Who said I miss them at all? I'm happy they're gone."

Kisuke had to stop himself from chuckling out loud. Right, I'll believe that when a pig flies through my shop. "Of course you are, Ichigo-san. Gomen."

The two didn't speak for a long while after that except for Kisuke telling Ichigo what needed to be done and Ichigo asking him a question or two as he worked. When he was finished with the floors that Ururu had already mopped and dusted off the already clean surfaces, Ichigo turned around to face Urahara.

"Well, I guess if everything is done for today I'll get on my way home. Need me back tomorrow?" The ginger-haired youth asked, starting over to the door to gather his things.

"Actually," Kisuke spoke up, unsure why he was so desperate to keep Ichigo with him. It's not like he'd gotten anywhere with him in the last couple hours. "I was hoping you'd stay for a bit and have some tea with me. Tessai and Yorouichi won't be back for a while; they took Jinta and Ururu out to the noodle shop for dinner. Stay and keep an old, perverted shopkeeper company?"

You came to talk to him, so do it, Ichigo turned back and smiled a little. "Hai, I can stay for a little bit. Just let me call Yuzu, she gets upset if I don't call her and let her know I'll miss dinner." He fished his cell phone out of his backpack and made the call to his sister, then followed Urahara into the shop's little kitchenette.

The pair once again fell into a comfortable silence as Kisuke put the kettle on the stove while Ichigo set out to make them a little snack to go along with their tea. Once everything was prepared they sat down at opposite ends of the small table in the dining area, sipping their tea silently for a few moments. Kisuke watched Ichigo closely under the brim of his hat, taking in the sight of him and trying to recognize him as the same boy he once knew. When Ichigo lifted his hand to take a bite of food, the sleeve of his shirt fell back slightly and Kisuke caught site of a small, red mark on his arm.

"What happened to your arm, Kurosaki-kun?" Kisuke asked, trying to sound casual and not show the intense stab of fear that went through him.

Ichigo startled, his hand darting up to push his sleeve back down. He suddenly had that panicked expression back on his face that Kisuke had seen earlier. "I – It's nothing, really. I just knicked myself w – while shaving the other day..."

"On the wrist?" Kisuke pressed, one pale eyebrow quirking.

Ichigo gave him a murderous glare. "I said it's nothing," he spat out more vehemently than he intended to.

Kisuke sighed, removing his hat so he could look into the boy's eyes, his ash blonde hair falling into his slate gray eyes. "Come on, Ichigo, we both know that's not true. What's going on? Why won't you tell me? You've always talked to me about things before."

"There's... Nothing to talk about..." Ichigo mumbled quietly, hating the way his voice cracked as he spoke, running his hands over the ornate designs on his cup.

Kisuke said nothing in response, just gazing at his former student with sad eyes. Then suddenly, Ichigo folded over, burying his face in his arms on the table. A choked sob escaped from his chest a moment later, then his lean shoulders were trembling and his entire body was shaking with silent cries. Kisuke watched helplessly for a moment, then finally threw caution to the wind and risked getting the crap beat out of him, getting up and going over to the ex-substitute shinigami. He reached out and tentatively touched Ichigo's back.

"Ichigo, it's okay..." He began.

"No, it isn't!" Ichigo suddenly wailed. "I – It's not o – okay, n – nothing is fucking okay a – anymore! It's not, s – so stop telling m – me that!"

The older man's eyes widened, and before he could think better of it he was pulling the younger male into his arms, rubbing his back gently.

"W – Why, Urahara-san? W – Why did this happen to m – me? I d – don't know what to d – do, I don't k – know who I am without being a sh – shinigami. It was m – my life for so l – long... And they w – were my f – friends... Why did I suddenly l – lose everything?" Ichigo whispered brokenly, sobbing heavily against the shopkeeper's chest.

"I don't know, Ichigo-kun, I really don't know," Kisuke admitted, raking his fingers through Ichigo's bright orange locks. "But, I promise I'm going to help you figure it out."

He sat there with the younger man as everything he'd been holding inside for so long came out in a rush of tears and hiccuping sobs, whispering reassuringly to him and stroking his hair. And by the time the teen finally calmed down and went home, the shopkeeper had resolved to do everything in his power to make things right for Ichigo again.