Harem of Angels

by Cubone-kun

When Ichigo finds out just how the people close to him really feel, it can lead to akward, but certainly not unpleasant results. Join him on his (con)quest to find out just what friendships, romances, and the line between the two truly mean. Harem fic involving Ichigo, Tatsuki, Orihime, Rukia, Yoruichi, Nel and many, many more! All credit goes to Tite Kubo. PLEASE review.

3. After (Way After) School Special

"And remember, my babies, the spirits are always with you! Good night, folks, and please, if it smells like a mean spirit, don't hesitate to call my associates at-" Click.

The television screen snapped into darkness, silencing Karakura's premier spirit detective in mid-sentence. Setting down the remote on the arm of the old, navy-blue couch he had been sitting in for the past couple of hours, Ichigo Kurosaki rubbed his eyes, yawning.

Must have dozed off if that garbage is on…He silently and irately noted. Don Kanonji's lovechild of a reality series had aired for a mere three seasons before being widely debunked and put down by critics and viewers alike, but reruns still seemed to surface every once in a while. If it were up to Strawberry, all original recordings of the show would have been heaped in a pile, doused in gasoline, set afire, and buried next to Hitler for good measure. Still, others are entitled to their opinions…

As if to remind him of this, he felt a slight shift in weight on his left side. Head resting on his shoulder and arms looped around one of his, Orihime lay, curled up in a ball on the cushion next to him and still sound asleep. He could see her body rise and fall with her breath, and couldn't hold back a sentimental grin. Even in sleep she looks so graceful…Indeed, he couldn't understand how a creature of such felicity had chosen him as its mate.

To his right was a picture of less elegance. In much the same position as Ichigo had nodded off was Tatsuki, head hanging slackly into the back of the sofa and mouth slightly agape. She inhaled and exhaled more deeply than Orihime, her firm, round breasts moving up and down with the expansion of her lungs. Ichigo saw this, and held back a snicker. Orihime was the very standard of delicate beauty, whereas Tatsuki was almost one of the guys. Both had their own unique beauty, and he felt the luckiest man alive to have them in his life. These polar opposites were not only best friends, but his girlfriends, as well.

Turning his attention back to Orihime, Ichigo reflected upon just how much this girl had impacted him recently. For years he had labored, unaware of the torch she held for him, unaware of the heartache he had caused. In one fateful afternoon that had all become a thing of the past, and she was now a permanent installment in this chapter of the young man's life.

Of course, without Tatsuki he would still be sitting alone in his apartment more often than not, dismally looking back on the times where he was needed. At least, that was the way he had perceived them. People had never stopped needing Ichigo, and it took a heart-to-heart with the most rugged bombshell in Karakura to figure that out. In a way, it had been selfish to allow himself to sulk, merely because he could no longer raise a blade and feel close to others on the field of battle alone. Romance was proving to be an even more daunting foe than any hollow he had slain, in any case.

Nearly a month had passed since he and Tatsuki had gone to see Orihime in her downtown living accommodations, and for the first time since Aizen's fall Ichigo felt as if his life once again had direction. Now that he had two wonderful people to live it up for, how could he content himself with being a wallflower? Before, when the curtain of night fell across the cityscape it signaled a retreat to his hovel for another night spent alone with his poisonous thoughts and memories. However, dusk now signaled a different commencement altogether; to long evenings spent with Tatsuki and Orihime, to a time he could actually look forward to after a day's work. Work itself had become more bearable, as the money earned was no longer going just towards survival, but to the sharing of his life with his two sublimely imperfect angels. There had even been talk of application to Karakura Community College in his future, so that he wouldn't have to make ends meet as an odd-jobs specialist for much longer. True, his grades had gone down the crapper thanks to his responsibilities as a shinigami, but as Orihime knew better than anybody, KCC wasn't exactly picky when it came to its attendees.

Ichigo's free time, which had previously consisted of absent-minded exercise and one of the few solaces he could find: poetry, was now also put toward making time for his dual passions. Tatsuki lived only a couple of blocks away; seeing her was no problem in the slightest. A short run or drive (the black SUV Orihime had seen had turned out to be his) brought him to her two-story apartment, and after a brief discussion with her roommate (he could never remember her name; some Belgian girl who had come for a study-abroad program) his karate-queen would be by his side, ready to engage in whatever plans the two had made.

Seeing Orihime wasn't quite as easy. Living downtown, it was somewhat of a lengthy trip, even by car, to his redheaded princess. It was for this reason that they had adopted the use of the town's subway system, seedy though it was. There had, in fact, been a moment of hearty laughter all around the trio after the nervous bachelor had insisted that the girls carry switchblades in their purses whenever they use the railways. Ichigo would go to her as many times a week as he could manage, sometimes bringing Tatsuki along and other times not. This was a mutual decision on their part; if Tatsuki got her own time in the limelight with her beau, then it was only fair to give Orihime her own private intimacy with him, as well. A roughshod arrangement, to be sure, but Ichigo had found an abundance of willpower and energy to make things work out for his twin flames.

And for one eighteen-year-old boy, Ichigo wasn't doing a half-bad job of managing the situation. The time he spent with Tatsuki over Orihime was made up in phone calls to the latter and small gifts when they did meet up (his money for Tatsuki was exhausted on meals out, which didn't go unappreciated), so that while there was some well-anticipated anxiety surrounding the relationship, all parties went to bed satisfied in the end.

Tonight was one of the rare occasions in which Ichigo had the privilege of staying in with not one, but both of his exquisite ladies. The work week done over with, he had a full forty-eight hours and then some to devote to romancing his best girls. He had personally escorted Orihime over, joking with her about the switchblade he had offered while quietly running his fingers over the hilt in his pocket on the way. Tatsuki, meanwhile, had let herself into Ichigo's snug one-story to ready it for company. Of talents, the boy had many; housekeeping not among them. It wasn't too strenuous a chore: a few piles of laundry to be stacked or bagged for cleaning, some dishes to be done, a bed to be made…

And so it came to be, with the three adolescents jumbled atop one another on a beaten couch, a blank TV screen and empty pizza box laying before them. The scene seemed almost too perfect for Ichigo to believe. He really was living the dream, achieving victory over life's trials in this one moment. He needed to castle, no titles, no fortune to feel validated. This humble apartment was his castle, the two slumbering beauties next to him his fortune. And as for titles…

"Ichigo…" Orihime had stirred from her sleep, an ambulance siren in the distance rousing her from her state of comfort. Never would the young man hear a sweeter sound than his own name uttered from the lips of his auburn-haired muse. When she was calm, composed, and at home, words flowed from her throat like birdsong, and having them directed at him made Ichigo feel as if he could float upon the air. That, coupled with her gorgeous grey eyes fixating upon his, made even his battle-hardened heart melt.

Bringing up his forearm, without breaking the lass's grip on him, he softly brushed away a stray lock of hair that had been dangling over her brow. Gently planting a kiss on her forehead, he whispered in response:

"What do you need, Hime?" He let his head rest upon hers as he gently caressed the graceful curve of his lover's face. The fuddled look that had accompanied her stupor faded, a sleepy, almost childish grin taking its place.

"We fell asleep…" Orihime said, a note of disappointment hanging in her words. Ichigo let out a quiet laugh.

"That we did, dear, that we did." Pausing a moment, he continued: "And what's wrong about that?"

"Tatsuki and I…planned something special…all three of us…" The girl was still in somewhat of a tired daze, and couldn't seem to complete her thoughts. Ichigo's ears nonetheless perked up.

"What kind of 'something special'?"

"Can't tell…promised Tatsuki I'd keep it secret…" Even in her half-conscious state Orihime managed a teasing smirk. Ichigo didn't miss a beat. Lifting his arm above the young lady's head as to pry himself from her fingers, he slid it behind the small of Orihime's back, fixing his hand upon her hip and pulling her in to a closer embrace. Orihime blinked a few times, not anticipating the romantic gesture. Ichigo's face was inches from hers, and the close-up of his handsome features served as a bucket of cold water, waking her up to the fullest. Despite weeks of having been in a relationship with him, little moments such as this still brought a blush to the girl's face, which made Ichigo brandish a devilish grin of his own.

"Oh, but secrets are meant to be told…" He whispered into her ear, delighting in the shiver it sent down her spine. More lucid, Orihime adapted to the game.

"Weeelll…" She trailed off momentarily, looking into the corners of her eyes. "It's the first whole weekend we'll have spent together. We wanted something to mark the occasion. You've been such a hard worker that we thought you deserved a reward…" She now looked straight at him, batting her long, full lashes as she did so. Ichigo felt a stirring below his belt.

"Yeah?" He didn't quite know how to respond.

"Oh, yes." She said, a dangerous sweetness creeping into her voice, much like poison dripping into a vat of honey. She started to trail her fingertips down his chest, her nails leaving small tracts of tingling sensation through his pinstripe button-down. "We couldn't help but notice that your bed in there was big enough for two…or more."

Ichigo felt the hair on the back of his neck prick up, and despite holding two human beings so close to him felt a chill spread over his arms and torso. Was this conversation going where he thought it was going? And, perhaps more importantly, was he still asleep? It wasn't like Orihime to be the provocative one. Tatsuki took very guy-ish views on most things, sex among them. Granted, his relations with both girls had been regular over this past month; more often than not he fell asleep with one of them in his arms, or on the phone with one while his lady of the hour was preparing for their nightly exertions. But not since that day he and Orihime had cleared the air with each other had he been with both of them simultaneously.

I STILL can't believe that happened…Ichigo made an aside mentally, remembering the skin, sweat and heat that evening had entailed. While the girls tended to shy away from one another, each of them shined through in their own right, putting Ichigo's newfound sexuality to the test. His member had ached after that frenzied spell of mating, but he clearly remembered staying up long after his angels had fell victim to their exhaustion, relishing the feeling of satisfaction that sweet burn brought.

That being said, he had hardly been able to look either in the eye the following morning. He had been almost too embarrassed to follow through with his lover's needs for those first few days, but seeing how happy the physical expression of their feelings made his partners gave the boy resolve to satisfy them with renewed vigor. But still, that had been spontaneous, a feverous act that reared its head in the red-hot forges of passion. This was planned, meticulous, deliciously sinful…

"Ichigo?" Orihime interrupted his thoughts, seduction no longer lacing her words. It was a small, concerned gesture that stoked the warm fire that burned in Ichigo's gut whenever the lass was around. "I'm sorry…we thought you'd enjoy it…I never should have said anything…" She averted her gaze, looking down at her lap. "We both should have known better."

Ichigo frowned, his eyebrows contorting into a look of regret as he squeezed Orihime tighter than ever.

"Hey." He said, his voice hardly more than a rasp of air. "Look here."

She did as she was bidden, and it drove daggers into his heart to see small droplets forming in the corners of her large, luminous eyes. He hated seeing either of them cry. He was their guardian, their stone among quicksand, and if the evils of the world did them harm it evoked despair and wrath within him the likes of which Ichigo hadn't experienced since he had left the battlefield. Such was the way he viewed those precious to him.

Ichigo gave her a soft peck.

"How could I not appreciate that? You two went through all the trouble of putting this together, and here I learn that you wanted to end it with…with…"

"A threesome?" The girl quietly interrupted. The word hit Ichigo with a jarring impact.

"Y-yes…" He hadn't thought about it in such a manner before. It had simply been making love to Tatsuki or Orihime…while the other was also having sex with him. Sort of an ego-centric take on it, he knew, but the young berry-head hadn't wanted to think that he had taken part in such debauchery as group relations, especially so early after his sexual awakening. So to hear his beloved address what made him blush in such an open fashion was comparable to a sack full of bricks to Ichigo's face. "A…a threesome, thanks. I mean…it just comes to show how much you guys care, in a way."

Orihime had calmed down by now. Praise from Ichigo seemed to have that effect on her. He knew this, and both loved and cursed having so much say in how she felt.

"Do you mean it?" She asked, her voice hardly more than an adorable squeak.

"Of course I do. You're my Orihime; my precious Orihime…" He trailed off fondly, a somewhat absent look fixing itself on his face as he seemed to stare through the girl, to the off-white wallpaper beyond. He might not know how he felt about such kinky behavior with his two favorite people, but he did know, beyond a doubt, that something special was forming between he and they. It wasn't often that he found himself acting so love-struck, but it's occasion and cause were sincere, and he didn't mind it in the slightest. Pulling himself back into the moment, he once again fixated his sharp brown eyes onto her large, beautiful grey ones. "And you can do no wrong by me. Simply the thought of you doing it for me makes it worthwhile."

Orihime let a broad grin spread across her fair features. Letting loose a ponderous yawn, it once again became apparent that she had just woken up from a cozy little snooze. She rested her face upon Ichigo's chest as he witnessed her body go limp once more. My precious Orihime…He liked the sound of that. It was a phrase he looked forward to saying many times over.

"That's good…maybe we'll have it after you get back…" His auburn-haired princess muttered as she sank into the depths of her dreaming world.

Ichigo's heart skipped a beat. For one thing, he hadn't expected the (supposedly) innocent of the pair to persist. For another, it reminded him of just why they had orchestrated their little get-together this weekend. Grimacing slightly, he pulled the two in more snugly against himself. The contentment of the evening had dulled his resolution for what awaited on the horizon, and it made every lingering moment spent in this still-life of he, Tatsuki, and Orihime bittersweet to know that he would have to part with it so soon.

He glanced to his right, at the sleeping form of Tatsuki. Although he didn't worry after her nearly as much as he did for Orihime, their time spent apart would take the same toll. She was strong of character, independent and free; a kindred spirit. Craning his neck slightly, he softly kissed her on the neck. She shifted at his touch, eyelids fluttering half-open.

"What is it?" She asked groggily. Ichigo couldn't help but crack a goofy smile.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

Tatsuki laughed through her nose quaintly. "You're such a dork." She said as she rested her forehead upon his collar, hand caressing the other side of his neck.

All of a sudden remembering that he, too, was due for some much needed sleep, Ichigo closed his eyes and let his head rest against the back of the couch once more. Ain't that the truth.

Crunch. Crunch.

Beneath his feet, a monotonous protest to his intrusion upon the solemnity of the dawning morning, gravel gave beneath Ichigo's feet as he beat a steady pace towards his destination. The sun had just peaked overtop of the denser city towards the East, and an omnipresent shroud of pallid clouds hung in the waking sky like a veil of wet cotton, casting a somber tint of blue over the young man's surroundings. Working his way through the back lots and abandoned properties of his childhood hometown seemed to him like viewing some distant memory through stained glass, and more than once he feared that his steaming breath would fog up this scant reminder of what he had so cherished.

Fall had all but run its course; the trees that had sprouted in the neglected patches of earth between ramshackle, half-finished constructions and destructions had long ago shed their last leaves, and seemed timber skeletons, naked before the frigid onslaught that would only intensify. The seasons, to Ichigo, had always been beautiful, but the transitions between them unsightly and cruel.

Everything about this forlorn stretch of Karakura spoke out as if with a dying breath. The plants, withered in the cold, and the buildings, themselves disappearing and coated in graffiti. This place, though manmade, did not belong the living. It was a drying husk of what once had been prosperous, what Ichigo had once called home. It weighed heavily upon his heart to see how unkind time had been.

Over the course of the last couple of years, the development that had housed Ichigo's family and so many others had been choked out by corporate progression. Too many big businesses had branched out from Tokyo, snuffing out the private sector and uprooting what had enabled this tight-knit community to thrive. The Kurosakis had been so fortunate as to evade this swipe of the guillotine, with Ichigo's father taking the girls and moving deeper into the city, procuring a position with Mr. Ishida at the larger, better-defended medical firm owned by his friend of many years. He had waited until Ichigo had moved out; there wouldn't be as much money to go around the family now that his personal clinic was out of business, and despite his harsh methods of upbringing Isshin really did want the boy to finish his adolescence where it had started, considering all of the hardship he had endured both school-related and…otherwise.

And so it came to be that the route Ichigo now trudged down was a ghost town, offering no more company than the desolate howl of the wind and the occasional stray dog. Despite his leather jacket and gloves, Ichigo could feel the cold relentlessly seeping into him, chilling his soul and body alike as he tucked his hands into his underarms, lowered his head and quickened his pace. It's close…

Ichigo couldn't be sure of how long he had been walking. Even though he was traversing what had once been home, every twist and turn renewed his feeling of being lost, of anything still standing being completely out of the question. Still, something in the back of his mind insisted that what he was looking for had survived the ordeal, if anything had.

It was as the first golden rays of the day had started to penetrate the cloudy veil overhead that he finally came upon it. Nestled in between two half-collapsed concrete behemoths was nothing other than the Urahara Shoten, lot choked with weeds and striped awning skewed and tattered as if it were the hat of its charming owner. It's walls, once washed white, were taken by ivy and moss. The two small windows on either side of the shop's entrance belayed no light from within. Ichigo's heart sank.

No… He thought, dismayed. It can't be…Kisuke was SMARTER than them… It just wouldn't register in his mind that a mad genius such as the store's proprietor would meet his match against something as mundane as the corporate hammer. Damn it, Hat-and-Clogs…He couldn't give up hope just yet. He had made promises that he intended to keep, some of which had gone unfulfilled for long enough. He didn't care if he had to come back with a sledge and tear through the place until he found a way to do it himself. I will not be denied. Steeling over his determination once more, Ichigo almost puffed out his chest as he barreled like a tank towards the defiantly pitiful structure.

The door was unlocked, and the knob gave with a single fluid motion of his wrist. It swung inward on silent hinges, inviting the young man into the murk and shadows within. Cautiously setting his right foot within the doorframe to do a once-over of the interior, he found a queer sight, indeed.

There wasn't an object out of place on the shelves. Rows of neatly-stacked cartons and jars filled with sweets stood in their assigned positions, not a one askew. The register was intact and in its place on the checkout desk, and even the rug on which customers were supposed to have cleaned their shoes was exactly where the clerk would have put it. Yes, it certainly seemed as if the shop were thriving as it had always been, and for a moment Ichigo was half-expecting the eccentric Urahara to appear from behind one of the fabric doors separating his living quarters from the commerce area, brandishing his Cheshire grin and flamboyant bravado as if the past couple of months had been nothing more than a dream, a temporary respite for Ichigo's battle-weary soul. No such spectacle occurred. The meek columns of morning sunlight that poked through the shop's windows illuminated the sea of dust motes that stirred lazily through the air a fiery yellow, creating an atmosphere of somber beauty even in the most supremely ordinary of settings. Long, mournful shadows crept over the shelves and displays within the store, like two-dimensional beings who had lost their way among the array of spiritual goods, themselves coated with the dust of prolonged neglect.

Ichigo, sobered by the unmistakable solitude the scene presented him, felt a numbness spreading throughout his body. There really is nobody here…Of that much he could be sure. No footprints, no indent of any kind was visible on the grime that clung to every surface in the vicinity. Everywhere he looked was the uninterrupted encroachment of dust, of dead cells and lifeless chunks of dirt, claiming what had been left behind by a staff, a family, that no longer held sway over their own establishment.

He could feel his jaw fixing itself into a grimace; there would be no tears or outbursts to accompany this stinging reality. As far as Ichigo was concerned, there was no need for such. This grim milestone was to be taken at face value: for the first time in his life, Ichigo needed a favor from Urahara, and the latter had up and left. He was at a loss for words, actions, and ideas.

Without knowing quite why, he let himself into the empty shop. Ichigo realized that the sight before him was a sadder one than any he had seen on the way. The crumbling desolation that surrounded this place was no match for the melancholy within. It made sense for such ugly, decaying ruins not be inhabited; here it just seemed as if the people who had once lived there had vanished into thin air. Walking down the aisles, trailing a finger along the dusty surfaces and leaving small trails in his wake, he let himself get lost in that mist of loneliness, forgetting who or where he was in that moment of complete isolation. After all, what purpose does an identity serve if there is no other to distinguish oneself form? In his trance, all nuances of the oddity store he had never paid that much attention to before became apparent: the scuffed floorboards, the cheap fluorescent lights hung from the plaster ceiling, the fluttering of the trailing, tapestry-styled door leading to Kisuke's room.

Wait a minute. Ichigo snapped back into lucidity. There's no wind in here. How can the cloth be moving without a stream of air? Perplexed, the young man listened for the telltale whir of a fan, but couldn't make one out. Of course, he hadn't expected to, as the total silence that encompassed this stretch of town would have made any sound swell to monstrous proportions. With a twinge of a sensation straddling the border of curiosity and hope, Ichigo ventured to the barrier in question and cautiously parted it with his left hand. A small trickle of warm air seeped out, surprising the berry-head before he remembered how frigid his surroundings were. Still, the only way it would be even lukewarm was if it came from a heated building or…

Underground. Ichigo palmed his forehead. How the hell did I overlook that? Searching through the abandoned living quarters, his memory a bit shaky, Ichigo found what he was looking for within minutes. Urahara sure did have a sense of style…He marveled silently, observing the much out-of-place medieval trapdoor that was poorly concealed under a cheap straw mat in one corner. The cast-iron handle and thick oak planks were a queer contrast to the whitewashed walls and seamless hardwood floors of the shoten, but Ichigo didn't question; Urahara himself was a contradiction to normality, and this eccentric piece of décor might end up proving to be his last hope.

Gripping the horizontal door with both hands, Ichigo dug his heels in and prepared to muster up a mighty effort to lift the archaic bundle of wood up, knowing that oak and iron wouldn't let the hinges give easily. Breathing deeply, the youth prepared to heave upwards, when suddenly the door swung upwards of its own accord, too fast for him to do anything but experience a surge of dread before it slammed into his unguarded face, sending him reeling into the wall opposite of him. The force of the blow had winded and disoriented him, and it was almost a minute before he could once again rise to his feet. His entire face stung from the impact, and hot blood was flowing from his nose. Wiping the crimson fluid from his upper lip, Ichigo stared at the red smears on his hands for a moment, anger boiling up inside of him.

Damned, no-good, malicious little…He stopped his mental cursing abruptly as he realized that the door had remained open throughout his short ordeal. Odd…He thought. A booby trap would have closed back up by now…Curious, he stepped once more towards the mechanism, giving the boards a light push, and was overjoyed when the door fell back down to the floor, sealing its entrance with not so much as a bump against the concrete. It wasn't often that Ichigo's analytical side prevailed; he was a fighter, not a thinker, after all. Being able to discern the workings of one of Kisuke's little knick-knacks on his own was an accomplishment for someone who had been screwed and saved in equal parts by them in the past. Nonetheless, he couldn't let his momentary triumph overshadow his purpose.

Kneeling cautiously to the side of the spring-loaded contraption, Ichigo gave a light tug on the navy-hued metal of the handle once more, retracting his hand and waiting a few seconds before the door shot up with impossible speed to suspend itself at a ninety-degree angle. Smirking, he moved to the front of the portal while still on his knees, feeling a gust of the warm air that had drawn him billow up from the cavernous basement of Kisuke's design.

Placing his hands upon the wooden ladder that was fixed into the foundation just a few inches below where the door would have rested, Ichigo slowly, very carefully lowered himself onto the construct. He couldn't afford to be reckless; if his memory served him correctly the ladder extended at least a quarter mile down into the earth, a fall he wasn't up to risking now that his ability of levitation wasn't a factor. So down he climbed, rung by rung, footfall by footfall, into that ironically sunny abyss.

Twenty minutes into the effort found him little more than halfway descended. He had made the trip only once before manually, when he was first preparing to storm the Seiretei in search of Rukia. True, he had been just as human at that time, but righteous cause had given him superhuman strength at the time; all that drove him now was a biting anxiety at what awaited him in this subterranean desert. His entire body ached, the absence of a floor having to be compensated with the well-worked muscles of his arms, chest and legs but also the broad sheets of tissue spanning his back and shoulders. His fighter's instincts alerted him to each individual strand at work, and the pain that came with it.

And people bitch about flights of STAIRS…

The strain on his body was nothing new; even in practice he made a habit of pushing himself beyond what was typically healthy. It somehow felt good to be in a midst of a long, daunting struggle once again. The old calluses beneath his fingers and on his palms belonged on a hard surface, which put Ichigo strangely at ease as he climbed down. He was in a state of almost perfect flow: he acknowledged the difficulty of his task but would not be swayed, would not break his concentration when so much was left undone.

After well over half an hour Ichigo found himself at the cavern floor, his sore feet finding some small concession in the sand that constituted it. Casting his gaze over the immense sprawl of Urahara's training grounds, Ichigo couldn't hold back the nostalgic sense of awe that they never failed to inspire.

Miles of arid, meticulously crafted landscape stretched out in all directions; dunes, outcroppings, nothing had escaped the notice of its constructor. The ceiling overhead was painted in such a way that to the unaware it would seem as if there was no ceiling at all, but a transparent glaze that rested under a clear, blue sky.

Odd…Ichigo thought. There's no sun painted up there, but it's always so bright all around…He decided not to wrack his brain over the matter, instead homing in on his primary objective. There HAS to be someone down here…they wouldn't leave all of this abandoned for any common thief to stumble upon. And so, after a mere second's respite Strawberry set off, body aching but mind sharp as he scanned the terrain for any sign of life, of help.

Things certainly weren't in his favor. The underground expanse was easily dozens of square miles, with visual obstructions all around. What was worse was that Ichigo, a spiritual entity no longer, could not be tracked via his spiritual energy, even by the most experienced shinigami. He was the needle in the haystack, struggling to be found by a field hand who might not even be in the barn. Nevertheless, he had come this far, and giving in now would mean letting his efforts be for naught, and letting down the two ladies still asleep at his place. So, despite the ache in his legs and the doubt in his heart he pressed on.

If finding the shoten and descending the ladder had been time-consuming endeavors, then this search of his was an event in another league entirely. Having left his leather coat at the foot of the wooden construct that had brought him there, the young man couldn't resist constantly darting his gaze to his exposed wristwatch, wincing each time he noted the passing of time. First it had been 8:30, then 8:45, then 9 and so on, disgruntling the lone wanderer progressively.

Ichigo couldn't help but feel petty at his own distress; here he had wasted months of his life going nowhere and now each second that slipped by stung at him like an angry hornet. He had the entire weekend to make things happen, in any case, so why become vexed upon an hour's delay? These thoughts passed through his mind, hand in hand with ones urging him to pick up the pace. Before long the maelstrom within his head had him completely sidetracked, shuffling through the grounds with no pattern and blunted resolve. It was quite possible he would miss any signs leading to his prize; his irritation towards his own shortcomings was reaching a fever pitch. He just couldn't seem to shake off the parasitic seeds of doubt that were sapping his will.

9:30. The hands on the clock were taunting him, making leaps and bounds as soon as he diverted his attention and grinding to a standstill when he made the mistake of checking his progress.

9:45. Damn it, where the hell is everybody?

10:00. Tatsuki and Hime should be up by now…I wonder if they're thinking of me?

10:02. Why would they waste their time on someone who can't track a pervert, a giant, an obnoxious shortstop, a borderline autistic girl and…HER.

10:17. Ichigo felt like ripping the device from his forearm and chucking it into the nearest ravine.

10:30. He stopped dead in his tracks, pain shooting up his calves and his lips dry and cracked. For more than an hour he'd been on his feet, moving, and he was tired. His body, his mind, his spirit, all were exhausted. With no respite for any of them he had trekked on, trying his best to ignore the biting reality of the situation: there was no hope for him. Just as mysteriously as the eccentric group of people occupying the shoten had existed, they had disappeared, leaving candy and dirt as their legacy. No longer able to sustain themselves on the underbelly of a happy community (for the development itself had become nothing BUT underbelly), they had to move on. Why leave the store unlocked? Why not remove the stock from the shelves? Why leave the gigantic training space undisturbed?

"Why the fuck should I care?" Ichigo said aloud, distraught. These things mattered to Urahara, not to him. All that he needed was for someone to BE here, and for whatever reason there wasn't. That was as far as he should have had to go, but his pride, his iron will, his god-damned inkling of hope wouldn't let him leave sleeping dogs to lay. He felt like burrowing his fist into the nearest stone face, but he knew better than that; a warrior would tell one more readily than all others that violence alone rarely solves one's problems. There really was nothing for it, and he knew that no amount of cursing or bitterness would make his objective any closer. But STILL…Ichigo's face was contorting in frustration. He couldn't seem to find the strength to move another foot forward. His body was bolted in place, his joints cemented and creaking in protest when he willed them to move.

It was as if some chemical had been filtered through the underground chamber, freezing the very air into some kind of plastic, still perfectly clear but immobilizing all in its clutches. Ichigo's nerves had been on end for the past hour, rubbed raw by his high expectations, and this was their response: calm down, stop moving, take it all in and start anew. In the absence of Zangetsu and his own inner Hollow it fell to Ichigo himself to make these judgments, even subconsciously. Finally getting a grip on his own impatient discomfort, Strawberry went through a ritual he hadn't in a long time. Much too long…

Exhaling smoothly and evenly, letting all of the coiled sinew knotted throughout his body relax, Ichigo closed his eyes and did his best to sharpen his dull, human senses. Nothing mattered now but what was left to him: the pulse of his own heartbeat, the shrill whistle of unexplained wind over the arid surface he stood on, and the trickle of sixth-sense energy flowing right beneath his skin. His emotions left him. He couldn't let his own ego block what scant chance there was for success. His ears strained, his tongue running over his parched lips as he delved deeper and deeper into his surroundings while neither moving from the spot or opening his eyes.

One by one, he noted the background elements and eliminated them from his notice: the hiss of the shifting sands, the melancholy whisper of wind, the unnatural heat…It was as if he were closing windows on a computer, getting closer and closer to the desktop from where he could access whatever he needed.

After a few minutes of this heightened awareness, Ichigo could begin to make out a sound that had eluded his attention before. It was a faint rumbling, not far off by the vibrations he could feel traveling up through the ground. It was neither grating nor mighty; part of the reason he hadn't been able to distinguish it earlier. Without thinking, he got down onto his knees and set his ear to the ground. This sound didn't mean anything; chances were it was another letdown. But it was something, and that was all that mattered. From what he could make out, it was fairly nearby, maybe on the other side of the small mountain nearest to him.

Worth a shot…Ichigo nonchalantly stood up and started towards his newfound destination. He couldn't get his hopes up again, not after so much disappointment, but he had to keep trying, even if he spent the next week shuffling through that rocky hell of Kisuke's design. Better than letting them down…Dutifully, he placed his hand on the side of the stony outcropping and starting circumventing it, intent on at least finding out what he had missed prior to his latest insight.

Artificial light, and with it a stifling heat, beat down from the painted canopy above as he made his way. The workings of Soul Society's technology would forever be a mystery to Ichigo; it certainly didn't' conform to the everyday imagination, much less to the convention of what is normally physically possible. He had never been interested in performing kido in the slightest, so whether or not these concepts and contraptions were imbued with some otherworldly aura was as much a mystery to the young man as it was how exactly they functioned. Nonetheless, this blaring light was better than fumbling his way around in pure darkness.

I wonder if it turns off and on…He mused as he journeyed towards the growing disturbance in the earth. If it does…then someone would HAVE to be here, or at least come back to turn it off…Of course, there was also the possibility that it was like Kukaku Shiba's residence, filled with bioluminescent plant life that would continue to function long after the property had been abandoned…or furthermore, that he would be overlooked when somebody came to drown the place in perpetual darkness, left fumbling around in the dark for God knew how long…the thought sent shivers down his spine despite the oppressive heat.

Almost there…His heartbeat picked up in anticipation as he prepared to round about on his quarry. He could see from his position that there was, in fact, a deep alcove in the sheer face of the outcropping, and the sound, he guessed, originated from within. Probably why you can sense it from every point outside…Ichigo had no idea what to expect: it could be anything, knowing Kisuke, and in his unfortunately mortal state he wouldn't necessarily be able to surmount any peril that this enigma held in waiting. I can't back down now…He thought, and readied himself for whatever laid around the corner. Taking one final, deep breath and emptying his mind, he sprinted the final couple yards that led to the yawning stone maw, gripping the edge for leverage that could aid in a hasty egress and shooting his head around the corner, half-expecting it to be blown off.

Ichigo's breath left him in a flat gust. He felt, once again, like bringing his palm to his forehead at his own lack of foresight. There was one feature, one painfully obvious feature he had overlooked in his assessment of his surroundings.

"The springs!" He cried out, voice much louder than he had thought it would be. He listened to his exclamation echo throughout the cavern for a moment, curious as to how far and well it would carry. Definitely a strategy he had overlooked before: scream at the top of your lungs until somebody heard you. How about that? He admonished himself quietly. This dumbass seems to have lost what little wits he had…

Letting his self-scorn subside, Ichigo shifted his attention back towards his latest discovery. He had never stopped to think that Kisuke had installed one of his special hot springs in his own training ground; Strawberry had only ever seen them in the complex in which Yoruichi had trained him. Remembering his time spent healing in those boiling pools brought back fond sentiments: achieving bankai, watching the ugly scars of his failures disappear, and seeing Yoruichi…

Ichigo blushed. Certain stones were best left unturned.

The rumbling he had heard and felt had turned out to be the churning of the therapeutic waters under the heat and pressure from beneath the earth's crust. The small cave carved into the mountainside was quite large, easily as big as his childhood home. The aquamarine waters lapped gently at the low ledges that led back out into the harsh sands of the facility, almost amorous in their slow, serene rhythm of to and fro. Most of the activity happened toward the center, where the shallows led off into a submerged, bowl-shaped indent about the size of an average swimming pool. A steady column of bubbles jetted up from the cracks in the bedrock there, a sound that was not sharp or piercing but boisterous and able to be heard from quite far off. Staring at the scene invoked an odd feeling in the young man; there was a surge of nostalgia, exhaustion and other feelings that didn't have a specific name. In any case, he found himself drawn to the clear, blue water.

Kicking off his shoes by the alcove's entrance, Ichigo's former impatience seemed to have subsided. His task was no less urgent, but if he was going to holler like an idiot for the next couple of hours he might as well grant himself some small concession. Besides, his cracked lips, bloody face and sore limbs were best taken care of before he interacted with anybody. An inexplicable calm shrouded the young man as he removed his clothes, leaving coat, jeans, tee and socks in a heap by the water's edge.

The shallows went about ankle-deep, and were ever so slightly hotter than bathwater. It felt heavenly on soles of his feet, red from the constant motion he had engaged in previously. A grunt escaped Ichigo's throat as he felt his entire body shiver, then relax as the initial shock of the spring's heat faded, and the savory warmth started to travel up through his legs. He started to wade out further, knowing it wouldn't be long until he caught a chill from the steam that was clinging to, and evaporating off of him.

Shhhk. Shhhk. The sliding of his feet made a sound akin to slicing, albeit much to soft to remind him of a blade. It gained in volume as he ventured into the deeper waters, stopping when the surface of the water was even with the middle of his thigh.

Here. He thought, as he let his legs give way and half-sat, half-collapsed into the spring's inviting embrace. His muscles coiled up tightly, and then released all of their tension in less than three seconds' time. He felt the relieving force wash all over him, reaching every curve and crevice of his battle-hardened physique. One of the few sensations that would ever make Ichigo groan in pleasure was that of incredibly hot water hitting his back, right between the shoulder blades. The feeling of heat that briefly bordered on pain was like one nice, long, continuous scratch on a place he normally couldn't reach with his own hands. Embarrassed by his momentary lapse in icy exterior, he was silently grateful that he hadn't found anyone as of yet. He wanted that to bother him, actually, to drive him to stand right back up and storm out of the cave, yelling like a maniac and sprinting in whatever direction looked the most promising, but something about sitting half afloat in that aquatic furnace pacified him, put his mind and soul at ease even as his body relaxed.

Ichigo's bottom rose from the stone floor of the pool, his feet barely scraping it as he laid in the water half-submerged. He bobbed gently up and down with the intake and exhale of air from his lungs, not a care in the world at this moment in time. His arms splayed out in an almost Christ-like fashion, not moving to hoist him up or even keep him from drifting. The feeling of complacency had completely overtaken him; even if someone extinguished the light overhead and left him in a sightless abyss he would have been perfectly satisfied with laying in those springs forever more.

Of course, he realized this to be speculation and nothing more. He could never forget the two delightful creatures that waited for his return; for his success. His quest would resume, but this was his moment, and his alone. As his muscle fibers and nose realigned, so too did his priorities. This spring was, after all, for brief respites between spars. Nonetheless, this might be the last break he caught for quite some time, and he planned to make the most of it. Dunking his head beneath the pool's surface, he filled his mouth with water and swallowed, intent on fulfilling a curiosity he had long held. Unsurprisingly, no miracles took place, which did nothing to dampen his trancelike good mood. Once again he took in a mouthful of the steaming liquid and spat it high into the air, turning his face as it cascaded back down onto him.

The cave's roof was collecting the vapor that emanated from the water's surface, condensing it and letting it fall back down into the spring in a steady trickle of droplets. It certainly was a contrast to the booming growl of the alcove's central geyser. Cracking his eyes open, Ichigo observed the ceiling, noting the bumps and dips where stalactites would eventually grow, long after he had left this cave, these grounds, and this life. One hundred and ten years of development were there, and eons upon eons remained. No human, no shinigami and neither of their creations were invulnerable to time's relentless assault. Having no idea why such broad and vexing concepts were flitting around his conscious, Ichigo once again closed his eyes to enjoy the remainder of his soak, instead listening to the beat of the cave's never-ending cycle hit his body and the surrounding water. Plip. Plip. Plip. Plip. Plip. Plip.

PLUNK. His eyes shot open. It sounded as if a chunk of stone had dislodged itself from above and dropped straight into the center of the pool. Paddling his arms, he brought himself into a sitting position as to turn his head and look for the source of the noise. All he could discern were waves of ripples spreading out from what appeared to be the point of impact, right in the middle of the spring. Curious, he swiveled his lower body around behind him and started to swim towards the disturbance. His mind was still somewhat cloudy, and he didn't perceive any immediate danger.

Finding himself directly over the underwater crater, treading water, he cast his gaze downward to try and make out what was sinking to the bottom. It was too far down already to grasp with his toes, so he took a deep breath and dove after it, wincing at the blast of bubbles that bombarded his face as he swam towards whatever had caught his attention. The submarine indent went about a dozen feet below the surface, about as deep as a public swimming pool, so when his outstretched hand brushed against the stone foundation of the chasm Ichigo didn't panic; he simply spread his hands out below eye level to shield against the stream of bubbles and observed his surroundings, all the while ignoring the tightening in his chest.

His clear line of sight extended only a couple of inches in front of his face, so all around him he saw a myriad of swirling turquoise spheres that blotted out most everything else. It was as his lungs and eyes were straining that he felt something make contact with his ankle, and wrap around it. Yelping and sending a burst of what little air he had on reserve floating upwards, he kicked erratically while scrambling to get away from whatever had gripped him. Water gushed into his gaping mouth at this little outburst, and while silently cursing he pushed his legs against the rocky bed of the spring to rocket upward towards supposed safety.

Ichigo broke the surface and promptly started taking in huge gulps of air. Looking around frantically for what he was sharing the water with, he could make out a dark blur ascending from its previous position underwater. Making powerful strokes with both hands and feet he cast himself away from the small pit, hoping to confront whatever the hell this thing was in the shallows where he would have more of an advantage.

Slowly it worked its way upwards, poking out above the water line without a sound, and staying suspended there, motionless. The bubbles around it still obscured what would have been seen below, leaving only a small patch of wet blue hide exposed. Eyeing it warily, Ichigo circled around it, half-swimming and half sidestepping. He was a good fifteen feet away, and the steam rising from the pool's heated surface kept him from accurately gauging what exactly the thing was. It had not moved since arising, but he thought he could see sheets of flesh billowing out from under it in the wake of the geyser's exhaust. It suddenly occurred to him that staying in this enclosed space with an unknown object (or creature) might not be the best course of action. He turned around to proceed to the cave's mouth and was froze to the spot by the sight that greeted him.

His clothes were gone. Well, all of them except his sneakers and leather jacket, which lay crumpled farther out on the dusty terrain.

Someone is HERE. His dulled state of awareness expelled now, Ichigo made nervous glances around the small chasm. And they didn't announce themselves…That sent a chill down his spine, in spite of the warmth engulfing his body. Wait a minute-

He turned once again to face the object he had fled from earlier. Kicking off, he drifted once more towards it, more curious than cautious, against his better judgment. With an outstretched arm he got a hold on it and retreated once more to the shallows with his prize in tow. Lifting the bundle up for a good view, he didn't know whether to be afraid, amused, or just plain pissed off.

It answered the mystery of where his clothes had gone. His white tee, his socks, and his jeans were tied together into a bundle, drenched and as heavy as a brick. They hadn't just fallen in; this was knot work from an intelligent being. And that SOUND…they were thrown in, without a doubt. Ichigo's skin began to crawl. He wanted to call out, to ask if anybody was there, but unlike most teenagers in an horror-oriented situation, he realized that bawling out questions usually ended up with one impaled. An overactive imagination, perhaps. Then again, he'd been impaled on enough occasions to know how generally unpleasant it tended to be.

That was when he heard it. Above the roar of the churning waters, above the patter of incessant droplets onto the steaming pool, a sound, eerie and soothing at the same time, reverberated throughout the small cavern. It was like some kind of buzz, or hum, or…purr. Ichigo knew for a fact at this point that he wanted to put as much distance between himself and the cave as possible. No hollow, no thug, no slasher was present; the truth horrified him infinitely more. Frantically searching the soaked bundle for his boxers, Ichigo found no such commodity. FUCK.

"Looking for something?" A voice, smooth and inviting and terrifying beyond measure floated into Ichigo's ears from behind. His muscles tensed up and he gripped his wet garments so tightly that he began to wring them out. He didn't dare turn around. "I asked you a question, Mr. Kurosaki." Wrapping the tangled mess of jeans and tee around his waist as best he could, Ichigo gritted his teeth as he reluctantly pivoted to meet his surprise visitor.

"Yo-Yoruichi." He stuttered, not sure whether to be glad or more on edge than ever. Standing in the mouth of the cave stood his old ally and teacher, the flash-master, the former commander of the Stealth Force and long-time associate of Kisuke Urahara. Confirming his worst fear, she stood in the shallows, completely undressed, golden irises alight with amusement at his obvious discomfort.

"So touching to see that you remember me, dear student." The lilt in her voice unnerved him completely, his knuckles turning white with the intensity with which he held his makeshift towel.

Now, throughout his short-yet-illustrious battle career, Ichigo had never been known to turn tail and flee, even when hopelessly outmatched and on the brink of death. He had famously stood his ground against the eleventh Kenpachi, the captain of Sixth Division, the espadas and even Sosuke Aizen himself. But right now, right here his instincts screamed one command, and one only. Run. Run. Run. Run. RUN. Try as he might, Strawberry could only stand, fixated to the spot with his jaw agape and his face reddening like a hot coal. There would be no escape nor honorable defeat this day.

"It-it's…good…to see you again…?" Ichigo blundered forward, trying to save what little dignity he could through eloquence. Even he knew that it was a lost cause.

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine, dear student. It's good to see you once again. And so much of you, as well." She cooed, producing his missing boxers from behind her back. "I must say, I never knew you to accessorize, Ichigo. This little pattern of fifteens is just so…you." Her lips curled upwards into a toothless, mischievous grin. Ichigo swallowed, attempting to focus on something in the arid scenery behind her. However, he couldn't help but become indignant at her brash disregard for his private possessions.

"Cou-could you n-not? Those were a gift." Right after he had muttered that statement he knew that he had made a fatal mistake.

"And who is buying my most prized pupil underwear as a gift, pray tell?" An eyebrow raised, she held the undergarments out before her for a closer inspection. "They look pretty high-end, too. Why, Ichigo, have you gone and gotten someone special without telling me?" She teased, not anticipating any resistance. However, even a skilled assassin falters in planning now and again, and the nerve she had struck snapped Ichigo out of his timid state. He fixed his mouth into a compressed line, looked her right in the eyes and spoke firmly:

"That does not concern you. I am here for business and nothing more."

This defiance startled the ebony goddess momentarily. Nevertheless, recoveries were easily made for somebody who had been matching wits for more than three-hundred years

"My, my. It looks like a couple months of roughing it has put some hair on your testes." She exposed her white teeth in a wicked smile as she glanced down towards his submerged groin. All for emphasis, of course. He didn't flinch.

"If you are referring to my time spent powerless, then that also doesn't concern you."

She frowned.

"Ichi, dear, why are you being so cold? I swear that I can see the water around you freezing over. Why don't you come and sit in Sensei's lap and tell her what has you so down?" She pouted, creasing her brow and clasping her hands in one another at waist level, pushing forward her ample breasts which Ichigo did his best to ignore. She didn't get an answer. "Please?" She added, tilting her left hip upwards.

"Go to Hell." He said as he began to make his way towards the exit. "You're here, so Kisuke must be as well. I'll go find him." Defiance was one thing, but this all-out hostility took Yoruichi back considerably.

"Why are you acting this way, Ichigo?" Her voice turned stern. "You don't see an old comrade in months and this is how you react?"

"Why are YOU acting this way?" He stopped and turned to face her, his hazel eyes like chips of stone in his socket. "It isn't funny, it isn't cute, it's just in bad taste. To answer your question, yes, I do have special people in my life. More than special, as a matter of fact. And they wouldn't appreciate this any more than I would. Now, if you won't help me then I would like you to get out of my way so I can seek out further assistance on my own."

Yoruichi did no such thing. Any cat owner would testify to the fact that pride is their feline companion's most precious asset. Wound their pride, and one gets their eyes clawed out. As soon as Ichigo had turned his head to proceed out into the training complex the woman had flash-stepped directly into his path, less than a foot from his face. Her own glare made Ichigo's aggression wilt.

"You will do no such thing." Her tone reminded him of the quivering steel of a swung blade. "Urahara is away on business, and I'm in charge here. You have questions, comments or concerns and you come to me. Otherwise you're shit out of luck." Her upper lip pulled back into some sort of quasi-snarl that showcased her thin, sharp canines. "So please…" She continued. "Take a seat." Her hand darted forward, too fast for his human perception to even register, and sent him sprawling back into the spring, his modesty-preserver flying out of his hands as he flailed his arms in an attempt to regain balance. He landed on his ass, thankfully cushioned by the two feet or so of depth that was present in that portion of the pool. Using his hands to cover his unmentionables (with limited success) Ichigo attempted to stand back up. Before his knees had breached the water line Yoruichi was over him once more, arms crossed and head cast downward at him. Ichigo winced in anticipation. Her abuse had hurt like Hell even when he had his shinigami powers; if she lost her temper now he might snap like a twig. Cautiously, he spoke up.

"Fine. I need a way…to get into Seretei again." He cast his sights to the right, away from Yoruichi's nudity. "I need…to speak with Rukia. No grand adventure, no new foe, nothing. Could you handle that?"

"Who do you think you're talking to? Urahara and I could arrange that in a heartbeat."

"Tha-thank…"

"I'm not finished. Stand up."

"Wha-"

"I told you to stand up, Ichigo. Can you handle that?" There were traces of cold derision in her voice. Seeing no other options he did as he was bidden, struggling to do so with his hands fixed on his groin. He did his best to avert his gaze from her glistening form, although he could still feel those fiery eyes of hers drilling into his. "Look at me." Reluctantly, he did so, not knowing whether to be more intimidated by her body or her glare. She stood with her hands on her bodacious hips, looking rigid and fierce and beautiful all at the same time. Her hand shot forth from one slender, exquisitely muscled limb and landed on his shoulder, establishing a firm grip with no hint of tension in it. Ichigo braced himself for whatever retribution was coming his way.

In one fluid motion Yoruichi glided forward, wrapping her arms around Ichigo's trunk and resting her chin on his left shoulder.

"Ichigo Kurosaki, you are a fool, and for reasons I can't quite explain I have missed you greatly."

The apparent fool couldn't articulate a response. Strained fragments of words trailed out of his throat, but coherent phrases would not come. He was happy that his old teacher was glad to see him again, he really was. Despite his reservations he had always enjoyed her company, as well. But it didn't change the fact that a naked woman was clinging to him. Thankfully she had leaned forward to avoid any contact that was overly raunchy (in one of their opinions, at least) but her large, soft breasts were pressed up against his chest, causing Ichigo's face to blush like his own namesake.

"Yor-I-can you-uh-please-" He was helpless, and the violet-haired beauty was fully aware. She brought her mouth up to his ear, her lower lip just barely pressing up against it.

"You like?"

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Jerking his entire body backwards, breaking the embrace and sending them both tumbling into the shallows. He landed once again on his ass, completely exposed, but was too livid to give a thought to his own notions of modesty.

"What is your PROBLEM?!" He was only a few feet from Yoruichi, who in surprise had lost her own balance and was sitting cross-legged facing him. His outburst bounced off of the stone walls, echoing many times over and sounding like a crack of adolescent thunder. "You had me going, too! I was ready to sit down and catch up with you, to let you know that I really was glad to see you again, but you had to go and do…that."

Yoruichi, puzzled as to why his fit had her so disoriented, merely asked:

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean…I don't even know what I mean. What you just said, all of the things like that that you've ever said. You showing up here naked, your constant teasing, teasing, TEASING! I'm done with it."

"Ichigo…"

"No! I don't see you in all this time and you're first reaction is to make me feel like a piece of god-damned meat! Can't I even ask a fucking favor?"

"Of course you can, Ichigo, but I haven't-"

"Haven't what? All of this has been a misunderstanding? Please, explain how your twisted sense of humor has been benefiting me this whole time."

"But I wasn't-" Wasn't what? She thought to herself. Wasn't joking? Wasn't going to follow through? This had been the first time she had actively thought about what exactly went through her mind when she shamelessly flirted with Ichigo. "I wasn't doing it to hurt you." She said quietly.

"Oh, that's just fan-fucking-tastic to hear. You didn't mean to disrespect my ideas of intimacy, it was just ignorance. How does someone overlook entire mindsets when it comes to…to…"

"Sex?" She interrupted, voice calm and even.

"Wh-wha…?"

"You meant sex, right?"

That made Ichigo pause. He didn't know if sex was the right term to describe it. He had never thought of Yoruichi's advances as actual attempts.

"I…I guess so." There was contempt in this phrase. He was uncomfortable introspecting about something like this, especially when he was the one who was wronged.

"You mean to say that I'm a slut, correct?" This caught Ichigo completely off-guard. "I have no shred of decency, no respect for others, or…" She spread her legs before him. "Myself? Is that what you're implying?" She let her hands come to rest on the ground between her legs, head hung low. Ichigo's temper was losing steam, fast.

"Yoruichi, I…I'm-"

"Don't be sorry. Anyone would have thought that in your place. After all, I probably fuck everyone I take under my wing, right?" Her eyes started to water. "Just look at Soi-Fon, must have shown her a damned good time if she's so obsessed with me, and-and-"

"Kisuke?" Ichigo asked, unsure of how he should feel. She brought her head up to meet his gaze. What he saw there was something he had never known to exist in Yoruichi. If he didn't know better, he would have said that he had caught her in a moment of weakness. He felt sick all of a sudden. He had reduced her to this with his harsh words. Trying to reduce the tension, he said as casually as he could manage: "I…I always thought…there was something between you two."

Yoruichi let out a single laugh, more bitter than anything else.

"There's something, alright. But I wouldn't expect somebody like you, the most oblivious young man I have ever met, to understand." There was more irony than malicious intent in her voice, and for once Ichigo took her words the right way.

"And what…" He said hoarsely. "Makes me so oblivious?"

"You are such a fool, Mr. Kurosaki." She said dismally. "You always had one girl or another tripping all over you, and dense as you are you never even realized." She finished, not quite insulting but adding a certain bite to her voice. Ichigo let out a long sigh.

"I think…that we should do that catching up, on second thought." Yoruichi raised her eyebrow at this comment. "As I said, you were right…I have special people in my life."

"People? Ichigo, I didn't mean family members…" She said, rolling her eyes.

"And I wasn't talking about them. I have…two…girlfriends." Saying it aloud was much harder than he had anticipated. His feelings for both were legitimate, and the girls, best friends as they were, were clear in their willingness to share Ichigo, but…there was the social stigma. He knew that it would make him look like a sleaze, and it was for this reason that he had tried to keep quiet about it. Unsurprisingly, a statement such as this snapped Yoruichi back into character to a degree.

"Why, Ichigo Kurosaki, you dog you."

"It's-it's not like that." He said, not frantically or defensively. He was struggling to find the right way to explain it. "They aren't just anybody…it's Tatsuki and Orihime."

Yoruichi snorted. "Your best friend and the ginger?" She asked, incredulous.

"Y-yeah…"

"And how did that happen, might I ask?" Her eyes, free of frustrated tears, danced with curiosity. The thought occurred to her to cover up her womanhood while interrogating the youth, but the boxers she had pilfered were floating three or four yards away, thanks to her earlier blunder. He seemed to be lost in thought, anyway.

"I…I guess…it just happened. There wasn't any huge proceeding, I just got together with Tatsuki one day."

"And what about the other one? I never thought she would actually get the courage to tell you how she felt."

"Well, you see-wait. You knew, too?"

Yoruichi merely smirked.

"How far out of the loop am I?" He put his hand to his forehead, completely unaware that he was leaving his privates exposed. "Anyway…that came a little later. Tatsuki told me…she told me that there are a lot of people that I need to talk to…a lot of people that have unfinished business with me. Orihime was the first…"

"Should I take that to mean that you intend to hook up with more than just those two little darlings?" There was a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"I told you, it isn't like that…"

"So, you haven't slept with either of them yet?" She was pushing it, she knew, but the topic was just to intriguing to let lay.

"Well…um…yes…both…but-but that's not the point! We're all together, making things work! It's not like they're just a pair of mindless bimbos…they mean a lot to me, and that's why I came here…" His brow creased. "I want everybody to have that closure, Yoruichi. I know that going to Seretei is a horrible idea; there was no safe way before and now I'll have to be a guinea pig for whatever Kisuke thinks up, but…I at least owe it to her to have one final talk, to get everything out into the open."

They sat in silence for a time, looking at everything except each other while they mulled over their thoughts. Yoruichi, in particular, was making some mental accommodations.

Well, it had to happen sometime…She felt a twinge of sadness in her chest. Ichigo's a man grown, now. He doesn't need a teacher ordering him around anymore. Probably why he isn't taking any crap from me, now. She had to admit, her behavior towards him was infinitely more amusing when he was a nervous virgin. And how about that? Went and got laid behind my back…wait, what? She hadn't anticipated the surge of jealousy that accompanied that realization. Slow down there, girl. It's not like you were intending to actually corrupt the poor guy, were you? Well, maybe get him to loosen up a bit, but…No, he's your student. Well, he WAS, anyway…She stared at her reflection in the water, trying to sort through how what she had intended to do with him all that time ago, and more importantly, how she felt about his situation now.

Ichigo, as well, sat distracted by his own conflicting thoughts. Is it right? I mean, I knew from the start that having more than one girlfriend would raise some eyebrows, but…saying it out loud I realize just how tough of a sell it is…He'd been much too absorbed in enjoying the time spent with Tatsuki and Orihime to worry about what others would think, and a part of him wished it could have stayed that way. I haven't even told my own dad yet…and someone like HIM would be happy for me…for all the wrong reasons. He began to question his own morality. Was it possible that subconsciously he really WAS playing the two innocent girls? He was certainly glad that he had lost the ability to feel attracted toward Rukia within five seconds of meeting her, lest she be dragged into this mess. He managed to make it that far while completely ignoring Yoruichi's presence, which changed when she let loose a huge yawn, stretching her arms up into the air and pushing her chest forward.

The action caught Ichigo by surprise. He couldn't help but look, and for the first time he didn't shy away. He saw her in all her glory, from the large, rounded breasts with nipples darker than even her chocolate skin, to her exquisitely muscled limbs extending into the air above her and to the sides below. He saw her dark violet hair, let down and flattened with moisture, splaying out gracefully behind her and adhering to her collarbone like an intricate tattoo. He saw the bodacious curve of her waist to her hips even sitting down, and the perfectly toned muscles of her core that had come through years of arduous training and battle. Even her face belayed details he had never noted before: the look of weariness that any being would have if their lifespan stretched over centuries, the dappled-sunlight color that constituted her irises, the strong curves of her face that spoke of experience…

She's a woman. Ichigo concluded. I'm absolutely crazy about two extraordinary girls, but this is a woman. His exposed genitals started to stir. Attempting to push those observations into the back of his mind, Ichigo finally spoke up.

"So, what's the deal with you and Kisuke? The mention of him in that context made you upset, so…" He didn't know how to approach the subject tenderly. With women, sometimes there isn't a way to do so. Yoruichi's expression hardened, a cross between a scowl and a lamentation.

"We…it's…complicated. Kisuke and I have known each other for a very long time, Ichigo. Before either of us joined the Gotei Thirteen. He was a servant around the grounds, a boy who always found his way into things he was better off leaving alone. I guess that's what brought us together." She paused, an expression of fondness briefly passing over her features. "We both knew what we wanted to do. I had my birthright and he his ambition. We trained together, we accomplished so much even before we joined the divisions." She gestured all around them, indicating the springs and the training grounds beyond. Ichigo remained silent. "When you live as long as we do, Ichigo, you have a different timetable. Your 'I'll do it tomorrow's turn into something that needs done by next week, then next year, then a decade from then…sometimes, you just wait so long that the feelings that needed tended to just starve to death and wither away…"

"But you and Kisuke are so close. How can you say that there isn't anything between you?"

"It's not something that can be expressed through words, dear stu-sorry. But every time I look at him I know that this is how things have to be, and I have a feeling he's no less ignorant of the fact. Our days as love-struck youths came to an end, and by then it was time for life to take over. Even if we forced things to happen in this time of peace and plenty it just wouldn't feel right." She looked distressed, torn up inside, but not confused. The greatest antagonist of any being with emotions is truth. Concrete, absolute truth that doesn't always suit us. It was a long time before she could continue. "And you, Ichigo…in your early days as a fighter you reminded me so much of him…you were headstrong and always getting yourself into trouble. I guess…the reason I acted the way I did was to remind myself of old times, if anything. I used you, and didn't even realize it."

Ichigo felt a familiar sensation take hold of him. He saw somebody who had been battered by life, who had born their grief in silence, masking it with an excess of its root. How many times, he wondered, had she seen a young, blond version of himself when she went about her tempting? He felt as if steel wires in his chest were being stretched taut, fraying in the places they could hold no more. He felt…sorry for her. For Yoruichi, the strongest woman, and one of the strongest people he had ever known. She was witnessing the beginning of a story that had ended long ago for her.

His hand moved forward, seemingly of its own accord, and planted itself on her hunched shoulder. Her skin was as soft and smooth as velvet, and radiated warmth that he could feel even when surrounded by the steam and hot water of the spring. Her eyes rose to meet his, a look he had never seen before in them. It was a look of longing.

"You're not Kisuke." She said flatly. Ichigo nodded and began to retract his hand. There was a small splash as hers rose to grip it. "You are your own man, Ichigo Kurosaki. You're going to outshine every one of us someday, regardless of whether you're a shinigami or not." Her eyes quivered as her hold tightened. "Tatsuki and Orihime are…very lucky girls."

Ichigo felt his own eyes begin to water. He slid his arm backwards to take her hand in his.

"I'm…I'm scared, Yoruichi. I thought that my time on the battlefield would have prepared me for when people depended on me, but I'm scared. I know that if I let them down…I just won't be able to forgive myself. If I don't lose either of them in the years to come, I have my entire life ahead of me to make mistakes, and I just don't feel ready." He spoke barely above a whisper but his voice carried an intensity that could not be overlooked. "I…I miss having somebody that I can lean on…"

Yoruichi couldn't take any more.

"You still do, Ichigo. You have two somebody's at home that are there for you always. Being in a relationship, it's a two-way street. To hell with chivalry, to the perfect housewife notion, you provide for each other. And you will always have this mess of a sensei to turn to." She snaked forth her free hand and took his, holding both out in between them as she clasped tightly. "You'll always have me…"

"What do you mean 'I'll always have you'?"

"I…I…" What did she mean by it? She had completely disregarded his previous disappearance of months, why was she all of a sudden acting like she would be seeing him on a regular basis from now on? NO. She thought. Bad kitty.

"Yoruichi?" Ichigo inquired again. She didn't have an answer.

"I…I think that we need to touch-STAY, in touch, and, uh, you should see more of me-ME MORE OFTEN, and-and-and-damn it…" Motherfucking Freudian slips. WAIT. No, those mean you have unconscious desires, and I already said that that part of my life is over with. I've harassed this kid enough, anyways.

Her mental debate was interrupted by its own subject. He stood up and pulled her to her feet, as well before taking her into a tight, warm embrace.

"That sounds wonderful, sensei." If she hadn't been convinced before, this was her proof. Ichigo was no longer a boy, he was a MAN. The strength with which he held her, the confidence she could feel just by touching him…she melted in his arms, inhibitions aside and returned the hug, resting her head onto his chest. Although she did wonder when he would realize…

A jolt ripped through the man she stood up against. There it is.

It had taken him the entire course of their conversation to realize that they were both completely naked. What was worse: there had been no leaning this time, and his manhood hung, wet and heavy against his old teacher's abdomen.

"I…I…you…" He seemed to get physically ill before falling straight back, an audible smack accompanying his body's meeting with the stone floor of the spring. The water level had receded as they had caught up, it seemed. "Damn it…" He sat up, rubbing the back of his head before the therapeutic waters worked their magic on his newly-obtained wounds. Yoruichi was slightly offended, against her better judgment.

"I didn't mean to gross you out, Ichigo…come on, let's get out of here."

"You didn't…I mean, I enjoyed it, err…shit…I mean, I didn't MIND it, I just…" Yoruichi couldn't help chuckling quietly to herself, before a wonderfully foolish notion crept into her head, and another feeling that she couldn't quite identify. Don't do it, old girl. She advised herself even as the words came out of her mouth.

"Ichigo…you…you only started having sex about…what? A month ago, correct?" She asked, unsurprised at the meekness of her voice. The addressed blushed but didn't shy away from her eye contact.

"Yes, about…but it's not like we've been doing it like rabbits…I mean, we-"

"Don't worry, that's not what I was implying, dear." She said, almost unaware of the arguable pet name she had used. "I was just thinking…that maybe…" I'm going to beat my own ass for this. "I could be your teacher again." She bit her lower lip, the schoolgirl fluttering of her chest that hadn't existed since those long days with Kisuke rushing back into her with a force that made her think she might explode. She couldn't believe such a horrible notion had been suggested by her, when she was supposed to be the responsible adult. Ichigo just sat wading in the shallows, dumbstruck.

"You-you mean…?"

"Yes." She was the one who looked away, abashed at her own foolishness. That wouldn't even have sounded good on paper. What the Hell is wrong with you?

Ichigo went silent, staring down at the bedrock beneath the surface and apparently lost in thought. Yoruichi's anxiety amplified itself many times over in those deceptively long moments, cursing herself as she chewed on her lip. She was about to suggest that he forgot what she had said, that they put some clothes on and go get a bite to eat while discussing the course of action they would take for his prospective journey, when he finally spoke, barely audible above the cave's activity:

"Do you think it would help?"

The sincerity in his inquiry drove daggers into Yoruichi's heart. She knew what would have been the right thing to say. She also knew what she was about to say, and the two didn't match up. She should have dismissed it, moved on and got him on his merry way. But something about this situation, the here-and-now, that got her heart racing, her inhibitions lowered. Guilt was gnawing at the very core of her being, but she spoke out:

"Yes, it would help, Ichigo. You're young, still inexperienced…and they are, too. I've been around for considerably longer than they or you have, and I know…what a woman wants." Normal Yoruichi would have rolled that off of the tongue with seductive ease, made shivers run up and down his spine. But Yoruichi wasn't feeling normal right now, or perhaps the person everybody thought that they knew had a little more depth than met the eye. The two were naked in front of each other, talking about (maybe even arranging) sex, yet there was a sort of embarrassed innocence hanging in the air. "What I want." She choked out after a painful silence.

Ichigo wasn't nearly as shocked as she thought he would have been. He wasn't as shocked as he thought he would have been, either. His head was raised and his eyes were locked with those of his former teacher. He stood up, manhood hanging flaccid. There was no arousal right now; that could wait. But something odd was going down: Yoruichi seemed just as tentative as he was.

"What's…happening, Yoruichi?"

"I don't know, Ichigo. There was a system in place. My crudeness was balanced out by your being a prude."

"Hey, I-"

"Hush, child. I wouldn't have picked on you so much if you were just good looking, or if you were just incredibly shy. It was the combination, I guess…it was exhilarating, like hunting for sport. I got all of the thrill of chasing down a prize buck without having to shoot it. I was being a coward. I felt like a was back in the old days, with Kisuke, when we trained. I was displacing my suppressed feelings onto you, and I'm sorry. But time changes, as we can all see. My feelings for Kisuke receded into a heartbroken friendship long before I met you, and I realize now that I was playing with fire. I was fond of you, Ichigo; you were an even brighter student than Soi Fon, and at times a better friend than Kisuke. I just don't know if I ever drew the line. And now here we are. You're almost a full-grown man now, and I'm just some washed up old horn…cat." She chuckled dryly, but knew it wouldn't help her cause.

"Do you mean…that I'm not just a replacement? Not an object? Not some challenge?" Ichigo didn't know how he felt. He was uncomfortable, but not an idiot. He knew that a woman's mind was about as organized as a sandstorm and about as pleasant at times, but he could definitely tell that she was going out on a limb, here. "All of this time, I wasn't just embarrassed, I was offended because I thought that you were insincere, that I was being mocked."

"And at first you would have been right, I enjoyed that satisfaction I got from it. It made me feel like I still had my game. It made me feel…young, again." She had never thought about it up until this point, but even by Shinigami standards, she wasn't getting any younger. She had eons to go before she submitted to the ravages of age, but she was at her peak and things would start to go downhill any time now. "It reminded me of what I gave up. But I just…teasing you became less about Kisuke and more about you every time it happened…I don't know if I even admitted it to myself, but there's no denying now that everything's out in the open." As if to add ironic punctuation to her statement, she crossed her arms over her breasts timidly.

The FUCK is going on with the women in my life? Ichigo wanted to place his hand to his forehead in exasperation but knew that it was inappropriate for the situation.

The FUCK is going on with me? Yoruichi wanted to do the same. This…it just wasn't like her. The words came pouring out, the thoughts jumping out of her mouth as soon as they were constructed, and there was nothing she could do to keep herself from jabbering her heart out. She didn't love this kid. She didn't love anybody. She was a loner, a glittering, unobtainable treasure that men wanted and women wanted to be. Why was she reduced to this pitiful, neurotic teenage girl of herself in front of somebody so non-threatening? You don't love him, old girl. He's a fraction of your age, and TAKEN.

"So, is it a yes or a no?" FUCK!

Ichigo was again lost in thought. If Yoruichi hadn't been so caught up with her inner struggle for control, she would have seen just how mature he looked in that moment. She wasn't just as nervous as he was, she realized. She was MORE nervous. He tilted his jaw upward to stare at the ceiling, lips moving in practice of a phrase that obviously wouldn't be easy to say out loud.

"I need to know, then. Are you doing this just to teach?"

"No." She wouldn't lie. She couldn't.

"Good. I'm not doing this just to learn, either."

And with that he stepped forth and kissed her.

Yoruichi almost yelped in surprise. The meeting of his lips on hers was soft, warm, and inviting, but the shock of it actually happened sent a jolt through her body. He didn't falter. Ichigo placed his hands on her ridiculously curved hips and brought her forth to press against him. She wanted to cry out, to break away from his touch, only she didn't.

Instead she stood there, transfixed and let her eyes close. The strain that had weighed against her own sense of inhibition was gone now, like a broken levy letting a roaring torrent rush in all at once. All this, from just one kiss. I'm in trouble.

Ichigo broke the kiss, a quiet smacking sound ensuing at the parting of their lips. She opened her eyes, almost disgruntled at having her moment in the sun disturbed, before she saw soft brown eyes waiting for her to meet their gaze.

"You think I would have been so indignant if I didn't want something to happen eventually? I never told anybody, not even Tatsuki or Orihime, but…I used to have…the biggest crush on you…"

Yoruichi felt fit to burst. There was a fluttering in her stomach and a tingling down below. She had heard his words, had taken them to heart, was euphoric to here them, but his actions screamed over top of them, and they said go, go, GO!

Throwing her arms up around his neck, she craned her head and gave him one of her signature, deliciously unsettling looks.

"No surprise. Most guys your age have been hot for teacher at some point." Before he could retort or even understand the magnitude of her words she had once more closed the distance between them, her full lips mashing into his with gusto. Her breasts were packed tightly against his chest, the nipples hardening so quickly she thought she might hurt the poor kid. However, the swelling member that pressed against her provided all of the consent she needed to keep on.

Ichigo's hands snaked around to meet in the small of her back, lifting her up into their embrace. He had gotten the hang of making out quite fast over the past month or so, thanks in no small part to Orihime's obsession with foreplay that he was all to eager to let her indulge in. He sucked on her lower lip gently, feeling her heavy breathing blast over him whenever their mouths would briefly part. After a couple of minutes spent in this little cycle Yoruichi lifted her head, exposing her neck and pulling herself upwards in a graceful demonstration of litheness. Ichigo, by now, could drop such hints, and planted a kiss towards the base of her neck, right next to the shoulder, sucking just enough to let her know he was doing so.

"A little higher, Ichigo…" Her words came out as a sharp gust of wind, having next to no volume but cutting right through the sound of the pattering droplets that surrounded them. He did as he was told and started to trail his lips up and down, growing in intensity as he did so. If Yoruichi's skin had been as fair as Tatsuki's or Orihime's he imagined that there would be substantial evidence of his advances, but the smooth dark chocolate complexion she possessed remained unblemished and ever ready for more. Ichigo could feel her chest filling up and emptying as she took deeper and deeper breaths, and relished the softness of her chest against his pushing ever so gently forward and back with it.

He felt one of Yoruichi's hands dislodge itself from its place holding his the back of his head to grip one of his. At first he was worried that he had made a mistake in placing his hands there, and was about to stop necking his ebony goddess when he heard:

"If you stop you are so dead."

She guided his hand down to grip the crook of the back of her knee, raising her leg once he had a solid grasp. Her left leg was now curled up, the knee at the level of Ichigo's chest, much to his wonder and excitement. He was so impressed with this display of flexibility that he almost didn't notice the smoldering heat that was now pressed right up against his almost fully erect cock. Almost.

Ichigo sighed in gratification. He could feel the individual lips rubbing against his shaft, and something about being just short of the satisfaction that rested a few inches downward was maddeningly arousing. His heart picked up pace as carnal thoughts blocked out all else in his mind. On his own accord he let the hand that was still resting on her back slide down to take a copious handful of her considerable ass.

Not expecting this brash move, Yoruichi did a cross between a squeal and giggle. She didn't even care that she wasn't the only one leading things; she had a feeling that she would end up learning a thing or two by the end of their encounter, as well.

Even if she had slapped him square in the face, Ichigo wasn't so sure that he would have let go in any case. Yoruichi's ass was comparable to Orihime's boobs, in a way. It was massive, but not disproportionate, firm and round, and as smooth as the rest of her body. Ichigo couldn't understand why he had been so coy with her before; this bliss was a guilty pleasure he would have appreciated even in his hard-headed virginity.

Without warning Yoruichi pulled Ichigo's head back, gave him one long, needing look and jammed her tongue into his mouth. Ichigo didn't give a damn about how quickly things were escalating; he'd played nice before, perhaps getting a little raunchy was just what he needed to spice things up. He fenced tongues with her, wrapped his lips around hers and sucked on it, getting airy sighs and small sounds of delight from his partner. If she was going to teach him to be a bad boy, he'd give her exactly what she wanted.

Yoruichi herself started to move up and down, backward and forward using her one foot on the ground and two hands around Ichigo. The contact of their privates was making her soaking wet, and even the runoff from the spring's steam wouldn't wash away the hot mess that was brewing down below. She deliberately slid back and forth on Ichigo's member, knowing it was teasing him and gasping as the grinding stimulated her lips and clit ever more. If she hadn't known how much more they were capable of she would have been content to stay this way for hours.

However, she'd been around the block a few times and knew at least one thing she wanted the young man to learn in their little session. Softly breaking their contact and letting her leg come back down to the spring's bed, he slowly backed away, trailing her fingers along his chest as she did so.

"I think it's time for your lesson, Ichigo." The purr of her voice was back. Yoruichi had regained her edge, and despite the frenetic sexual energy radiating from both of them felt right at home, ready to take on the world, although it was Ichigo who would be presented with a challenge. Kneeling down and placing herself where the water was only an inch or two deep, she spread her legs once more, not quite in so innocent a fashion, considering she started to massage her clit as she smirked at the hormone-crazed adolescent. "You'll need to make an oral presentation, dear."

"Will this affect my final grade, ma'am?" Ichigo wasn't about to get left behind, not when the going was this good.

"I do believe that this will help you finish the course much more…strongly."

He didn't need any further goading. It was something he had been meaning to try, anyway, but actually asking to try something new wasn't something that had been particularly easy for he and his two angels. He wasn't in the habit of taking liberties, but still…

Getting down on all fours, he situated himself before the waiting form of Yoruichi, glistening with sweat and the moisture of the hot springs.

"Now, just loop your hands around my thighs, yes, like that…" Her sex was aching for him to start. Patience didn't seem to be a strong point of hers at the moment, but she did remember, somewhere in the recesses of her brain, that she was supposed to actually teach the boy something.

Ichigo could only stare for a moment at the sight before him. Yoruichi's smooth, plump lips were pressed tightly together, not having known the touch of a man for quite some time. He felt a pang of guilt for having thought her a harlot before, but also realized this was as good a time as any to make it up to her. He looked up into her gleaming golden eyes before snaking out his tongue to run it over her drenched, hairless pussy.

The first thing that hit him was the taste. He'd heard plenty of guys from school complain about how nasty it could be down here, but this wasn't so bad…in fact, he could see himself enjoying it in the near future. It was robust, but not pungent; sweet in an earthy, natural sort of way that stayed on the tongue. The second was the heat. Before now, he had only felt the warmth of a woman engulfing his member, but when he ran his tongue, a much more sensitive muscle, over her dripping womanhood it felt like he was burying his face in a towel soaked with steaming water.

Yoruichi gave up her attempt at observation, throwing back her head and groaning considerably. It was just a little lick, no fancy tongue work, but it had been so long…or had she been waiting for so long? It didn't matter, because she had the kid right where she had wanted him: between her legs.

"That's good, Ichigo…Now, find my clit…yes, right at the top, spread the folds, it's right…mmmph…there…oooh…now, flick your tongue over…it…and…ah…oh, don't stop…yes, Ichigo, yes…try sucking on it, hun…oh, yeah, that's it…mmm, now take your middle finger and stick it…OH!" It was unclear of who was being more receptive: Ichigo to the information or Yoruichi to his application of it. She found herself arching her back, gulping in air and gasping it out, sending water splashing lightly around her. She let one hand venture downward to grip Ichigo's head, tousling his hair in sexual aggression. She found herself thrusting into his face, shouting out commands that were followed suite and that only intensified the burning sensation Ichigo had created.

The man of the hour was getting his fair share of excitement, as well. This wasn't nearly as hard as the urban myth portrayed it. In all actuality it wasn't so much different from simply making out with a woman. Slip your tongue over and in the right places, work your lips a little, keep a steady rhythm and you're good to go. Feeling Yoruichi's steaming slit pour and contract, even at his amateur approach gave him a sense of pride that fueled his sex drive, made him more confident and vigorous. His partner's advice, of course, only helped, although she was speaking less frequently now that he was hitting on some key points.

Two fingers were pumping smoothly in and out of her while the tip of his tongue flicked back and forth over her clit. Occasionally he took one of her lips in his mouth and sucked it (even he knew that one never, EVER uses teeth). One of his own hands left base camp to travel up his partner's sleek, heaving body to clutch at her left breast, squeezing it for both their pleasures. It was fair to say that Yoruichi was much more vocal than either Tatsuki or Orihime, having no reservations about getting caught and knowing that her sounds were nothing but a turn-on. Everything about her, the way she gave, received guided and followed emulated experience, and that in its own right was unbelievably sexy to Ichigo.

"Wait." A break in the sighs, gasps and squeals occurred as Yoruichi lifted Ichigo's head from her steaming womanhood. Ichigo complied, didn't complain as she unwrapped his remaining arm from around her thigh. There was a gleam of amusement in his eyes as she rolled over on the smooth stone floor of the chasm, got on all fours and he was, and raised her gorgeous, sizable rear to his face. "Continue." She said, a mischievous waiver in her voice. A little vague to be one of her "instructions", she knew, but she wanted to see just what the boy would "continue" into.

Ichigo didn't even stop to think. One of his hands darted between her legs, splaying out on her abdomen and sliding back until it ran over Yoruichi's aching sex. He didn't slip a finger in, decided that he would try his own hand at teasing his long-time temptress. Running his middle finger between her folds and letting his free hand clamp her exposed ass heartily, Ichigo leaned forward, planting a kiss between Yoruichi's shoulder blades while letting his member lay throbbing along her crack.

A rasping gust of breath whooshed out of her. She couldn't figure out what was making her such a lustful, mindless slave to the flesh. The fiery-headed young man was good for a beginner; he had always been a quick learner, but it wasn't as if he was a master. His hands were inexperienced, more raw desire than calculated mischief. But for some reason Yoruichi felt as if she, too, were new to this around him. There was a subtle difference between his touch and Kisuke's…or anybody else's…it drove her mad with frustration, but she couldn't get enough of that sensation. She felt as if she could let loose, be reckless and indulgent and illogically sentimental right here in this alcove, thrashing about in the hot water with the student she had always been (perhaps more than) fond of.

"Do you like that, ma'am?" Ichigo whispered, trying his best to sound throaty and seductive. It wasn't his thing, but he supposed now was as good a time as any to give it a swing. In truth, he didn't know what exactly he meant by it, but it got a desirable response nonetheless.

"Stop beating around the bush, Ichigo." There was a tone in her words that commanded authority, but not harshly. "Show me…" She said, trailing off as she deliberated on her next statement. "Show me what a man you've become." She didn't say it to antagonize, she didn't say it to be naughty. There was almost a sense of urgency in her voice, not desperation but a recognized need that couldn't go unfulfilled.

Ichigo took a deep breath, looking her over one last time before he commenced. He straightened back up, seeing her violet hair, hanging straight down and shimmering, the sheen of the spring's condensation covering her luscious dark skin, the insane curve of her hips, back and parts below, the way her breasts just barely scraped against the pool floor…He took it all in as he leveled his member with her waiting slit and tilted forward.

"Ooooooh…" She let out one, long moan as he sank his cock into her. He could see the muscles of her lower back tense up, and then release with a satisfaction that mirrored the sound she made. For a few moments he stayed still, his erection half-buried within Yoruichi, savoring the grip her pussy had on him. When Yoruichi regained control of her voice box, she looked back to him, a sultry expression on her face. "Don't just idle, Ichigo. Get one foot up on the ground…no, not like that, face it to the right, yes, like that. No, no, keep your hand there…"

Ichigo felt a little embarrassed to be tutored at a time like this; he had hoped that he would have gotten a good premise on something that he had been doing for a month. However, there was nothing to be done, and sure enough when he started to thrust into his voluptuous partner he found greater ease and a more natural feel to it then he had previously experienced.

"Yes…just like that…" Yoruichi said airily, and then fell silent. The task was up to Ichigo now to prove himself. He firmly grasped her by the hips as he pumped in and out of her, excited and curious as to how this new position would play out for him. While he was normally as chivalrous as he could be, he had to admit that there was something that pleased the animal within about sex this way.

In fact, this whole encounter was somewhat more…animalistic, than what he had done with Tatsuki and Orihime. It felt unrestrained, out in the open, no shyness to speak of. Yoruichi was supposedly teaching him to become a better lover, but the central dogma of this "lesson" seemed to be to do what came naturally, whatever felt the best. Stow the pillow talk, the smooth jazz, and cut right to the wicked, wonderful chase. He didn't expect there to be any complex techniques or crazy maneuvers involved, but this flowing simplicity seemed too good to be true. Have I been over-thinking all of this? Have I just been afraid to do what my body wants, what theirs' want? He had to admit that their was some primal, intrinsic satisfaction that accompanied the furious love-making he and his teacher were sharing. Is this what sex was meant to be? It wasn't a self-questioning, melodramatic philosophical debate. He hadn't been at it nearly long enough to have an idea of what it should mean, and he hated to admit that the physical pleasure of taking an old crush doggy-style was just as gratifying as the intimate throes of passion that he had shared with his two playmates. The only other explanation was…

Oh, god, please don't go there… Ichigo berated himself even as he picked up the pace with which he fucked the object of his thoughts. You have TWO, Ichigo. They're best friends, and even that's a stretch. You…you shouldn't even be doing this. But try as he might, his hips kept on their carnal rhythm, and he couldn't help but throb with arousal at the way Yoruichi rocked back and forth in time with him, her ass jiggling erratically with each meeting of their groins. Ichigo's superego was failing him; his id was taking over. At least, that's what he hoped was going on, for his sake.

"Come on, come on, COME ON!" Yoruichi was gasping now, her lungs straining to keep up with her body's demands. Ichigo had never stopped to think how physically exhausting intercourse was by its very nature. He found himself taking greedy gulps of air and expelling them just as sharply as she. "Don't stop, don't you fucking stop, Ichigo…"

Not quite the instructor-type, at the moment. Ichigo observed, with a grunt containing traces of both amusement and lust. He hunched forward, rocketing back and forth so hard that his balls started to slap up against her abdomen. It should have hurt, he thought, but they were taught with the product that would later come spewing out, and the endorphins raging through his body inhibited negative feelings of any kind anyways. He was no precision machine; he almost slipped out several times over a three-or-four-minute period, but the raw energy within him couldn't be contained.

All of a sudden Yoruichi stopped. It only took a few seconds for Ichigo to do the same. He was about to ask what was the matter when she rose off of her hands to her knees, gripped the back of his and did a sort of backward tackle, sending him to the wet floor with her laying on top of him, facing up. He was still inside of her, and the angle that she had his member bent at caused him a sort of pain that was all too sweet to feel.

"Ichigo…" There was no tease in her phrase. She craned her neck back to rub her cheek up against his, eyes closed and letting out a sharp sigh. "Let's finish this."

She sat up, keeping his cock buried within her. Her legs splayed out far to either side of him, and she hunched over, placing her hands next to each other on the ground between Ichigo's legs, arms almost completely straight. The gentle contour of her spine could be seen standing out in the small of her back. She took a few deep breaths and then went to work.

The dark-skinned beauty started moving smoothly up and down, a perfect piston on top of his erection. She had curled herself in a way that he slid straight in and out of her tight vaginal walls, hilt to head without a hitch under her steady intuition. Ichigo's head pressed hard against the cavern floor backing it and gritted his teeth. This felt better than oral sex, to him. The animal power that had been behind his strokes was present in the woman riding him, but there was a mechanical grace to her, as well. He could practically feel the experience sliding up and down over his shaft. A wet slapping sound accompanied her rear colliding with his crotch, more intense than the thudding that had gone along with his taking of her.

"Don't let me do all the work, Ichigo…" He heard her choke out. There wasn't any authority in her voice this time. No commands, not even instruction. She needed this, needed it bad, and wasn't even trying to hide it at this point. It had been a long time since she had been made love to, even longer since it had been this intense both physically and otherwise, and although Ichigo didn't want to admit it there was an emotional aspect to this encounter that he couldn't ignore, himself.

He didn't need told what to do. As Yoruichi had done, he reciprocated the pattern, thrusting upwards as she came down and pulling back just so much that he would stay inside of her. Their thrashing was making quite a ruckus; the clashing of their loins and the moans and grunts escaping the two all but drowned out the cavern's activity. Ichigo once again clasped her by the hips and aided her in the act, only helping to build their consummation to a fever pitch.

"Yes, yes, yeeees…faster, faster, COME ON, BABY!" Yoruichi screamed, her voice resounding throughout the alcove and out into the training grounds beyond. He felt her pussy squeeze him with a death grip, and then relax, a stream of hot liquid pouring down over his cock. That was all it took. The immense pressure he had held back through sheer force of will broke past his futile restraints and shot a stream of cum up into his old teacher, before all the strength left him and he lay still on the cave floor. With a throaty moan Yoruichi, too, reclined back, resting on Ichigo for a moment before rolling over to rest in front of him, his softening manhood still within her. She threw an arm behind her head, clasping Ichigo's hair to bring him close to her turned head for one, long kiss before their lips parted and they lay, foreheads pressed together and borderline hyperventilating in the warm shallows.

Ichigo's head was swimming. He couldn't seem to organize his thoughts, or even hold onto one long enough to elaborate on it. One thing was clear: He should have felt guilty, but he didn't. He had heard stories of the horrors of infidelity, of the general wrongness that anybody could feel when they took part in it, but something about this moment, this instance of creature-comfort that came after what was arguably the most physically pleasing (and taxing) sex of his young life spoke to the contrary. He felt content, resolved, free of burden.

Also, Yoruichi's final choice of words. Did she call me…baby? She had called him dear, and even hun not just throughout their session, but here and there since she had known him. But baby…something about that specific pet name reeked of familiarity, affection…

And the final thing that stood out sharply against his fragmented conscious: How the HELL was he going to explain this to Tatsuki and Orihime? Lying was out of the question; he wouldn't keep secrets from them. But it wasn't as simple as saying I cheated or Yoruichi taught me some things…for you. It wasn't just for them. He had enjoyed it, and not just because it was sex. He had enjoyed having it with her, making love to her. And he was damn well sure at this point that his dark-chocolate bombshell had taken some pleasure from it, as well. Still, he should have been panicking about all of these things, but couldn't bring himself to worry over any of them.

"So, did you feel it, too?" Yoruichi asked, without opening her eyes. Ichigo was done playing coy.

"Yes, I felt it."

"I guess there's nothing to be done. You sure as hell are not a replacement for Kisuke, dear Ichigo."

"I have absolutely no clue what you are to me, Yoruichi." He said, unabashed.

"And that doesn't surprise me at all. I kind of put the jump on you, in more than one way. But…but I think you should know that I've been around a lot longer than you have, and I haven't felt this way in a long time."

"I can't say the same. I've felt this way two times within the past month." Yoruichi chuckled, but knew he was being serious.

"You just can't seem to catch a break, can ya? All these gorgeous women falling for that carrot top, those big brown eyes, that delicious sense of honor you have." It was Ichigo's turn to laugh.

"I don't know what to do. I don't know how many feelings that I've hidden away, that could make a grand entrance like these ones. That's what scares me more than anything that could go wrong, Yoruichi. What could go right is so much more inescapable."

"Then just let things be as they were meant to. When the leaves fall off of the trees in Autumn, you can't hope to catch them all, and even then you can't put them back onto the branches. All you can do is stand and marvel at the beauty, or rake them into piles and jump right in. Your choice." She rolled once more, Ichigo's member sliding flaccid out of her as she did so. She laid facing him, her impossibly large, golden, feline eyes searching his for an answer that neither had. She sighed. "Well, I don't suppose there could have been a worse time for this to happen. Even if you didn't already have two girls of your own, you're about to go to Seretei for a third, at the very least."

"That's not-"

"Hush. Ichigo, I would never rob Tatsuki and Orihime of what they have with you. They have more of a right…they struck when the iron was hot. I'm an intruder even if everything works out."

"If everything works out?"

"…Yes. I…I want this to happen again. Over and over, until you're gray in the hair, die, come to Seretei to do it over and over again until I crumble into dust. There was something…different, about this. When I fooled around with Kisuke in my younger days I knew that I felt love, but that right there…I wouldn't call it love, not right now, at least, but something about it made it some of the best sex I have ever had. And I've been around for quite a while." She paused for a moment, before adding: "Not that it's all about the sex. I had better see you around regardless of how things pan out from here." She added with a sheepish smile unbefitting of the predator that she was.

"I understand, Yoruichi. I adore both Tatsuki and Orihime, and I refuse to say that I love them before I know for sure, but there is something wonderful and unique that I feel when I'm with either of them. And…with you." He said, with a hint of resignation. "My head is calling me a player, but my damned heart just won't shut up."

Both were silent for a lengthy stretch of time.

"I've always thought it odd." Yoruichi mused aloud. "How humans associate emotions with the heart. All the joys and sorrows of life you attribute to a muscle, a pacemaker that wants to remain flat and constant all of the time. It's not even the strongest muscle in the body." She stuck out her tongue, partially for emphasis and partially for teasing. "I guess it's just any sentient being's need to separate what they want to do and what they should do. Although, in the end of the day they usually turn out to be the same thing, it's just these preconceived notions of honor, modesty, piety that try to suppress what nature intended us to be."

"But…without a code of honor, what can a man call himself?"

"Yep, there's the catch. Women love a chivalrous man, and at the same time they like a big, tough guy who doesn't take shit from anybody. Just like men, at the same time, want a defenseless damsel in distress that they can pamper and protect and a raunchy tomboy that has no reservations about hopping into the sack." These words struck home with Ichigo, and he wasn't even sure if Yoruichi had realized the magnitude of them. He had both. He knew that he was crazy about them for different reasons, but he hadn't stopped to consider just why they had gravitated towards him. Each of their relationships had started way back before things had even acquired a notion for romance, and developed into a symbiotic arrangement that suited the meshing of their personalities. Orihime was a delicate flower who needed a patient, caring guardian and Tatsuki was simply a wolf who needed a dependable mate in the pack. But what about him? Why couldn't he just be satisfied with one aspect?

Because, you fool, of biology. Ichigo's imaginary Zangetsu/Hollow started reproaching him. Women can only have one child at a time, but men can procreate all damn year round. That's the natural order of things. You've done plenty to become top dog, so you get first pick of the females in the pack. Ichigo wanted to shake it off, but he knew that arguing with himself wouldn't yield any results. It made sense, after all. His heart, his id, his biological motor aimed to please across the board, to take care of as many as it could. In certain cultures, polygamy is an obligation to the community. You take on as many wives as you can care for so that nobody gets the short end of the stick. But Ichigo wasn't in some faraway society. He wasn't housing these women, he wasn't even sure he had the means to physically provide for more than two (hell, even two). He wanted to be around them because it made him feel good, in one way or another, and he knew it made them feel good, as well. So, to hell with these social norms, he would do what made everyone happy in the end.

"Yoruichi." He said, his voice steady and even. "I want to be with you. But there is one thing that needs to happen first."

"You want Tatsuki and Orihime's blessing." She had been having a similar debate within her mind. She didn't see them as competitors or antagonists; if anything she was the incoming danger.

"Yes. I don't see any other way. But still, I have no clue what I'm going to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I want you to go to Seretei and do what you came here to do. I'll go to them myself and explain things. Even if things go down the drain, women get a lot more satisfaction from tearing each other apart than a man that has made a stupid, man-ish mistake." She sat up, and winked at him. "Now why don't we go find some clothes for you. Sorry about soaking your skivvies, but the opportunity was just too good to be passed up."

A pang of irritation shot through his head, but subsided after a moment.

"All right, can we just gather them up? I can't blow any more ramen money on replacement clothes."

"I can do you one better. Go gather them up and I'll be back soon with some of Kisuke's old clothes from his room. They'll fit you well, and I bet you'll look damned sexy in them." She said, with a malicious gleam in her eye. That one statement tied Ichigo's innards into knots.

"Don't even joke like that, baby."