Ichigo frowned deeply as he walked down the sidewalk, his bright orange hair nearly glowing as the rays of the setting sun cast him in its warmth. He pulled his white uniform shirt away from his neck as he began to sweat under the hot weather, and his dark uniform pants weren't helping the fact. With a small sigh, he tossed his school bag over his shoulder and slid his other hand in his pocket. His frown deepened when he felt the business card in his pocket that he had received from the strange, tall man Ginjo that had appeared in the odd-jobs shop where he worked. He was a character… he thought uncomfortably as he pulled his hand out of his pocket to put it behind his head instead, casting his gaze up to the sky.

It was a rather beautiful sunset. The white clouds were dyed hues of gold as the sun sank slowly behind them, and the bright blue canvas of the sky was slowly being overtaken by red-orange ink. The world below looked like it had been touched by Midas; everything was cast in that golden glow, even Ichigo himself, shining like a gilded statue. He didn't even notice that he had stopped right in the middle of the sidewalk for a few minutes until a car zooming by stirred him out of his quiet appreciation of nature, and he looked back down to the earth with a tiny sigh.

"I'm beginning to act like an old man," he muttered under his breath as he continued down the path, his long legs casting linear shadows across the gray pathway.

In the last year and five months, he had grown taller- a lot taller. He had moved on from a second year to a third year, along with the rest of his classmates. They had all changed a lot, too. Uryu changed his hair, and actually looked a little less like a nerd to him. Orihime had grown hers out. Chad had gotten bigger, as if he already wasn't a giant. They're personalities had pretty much remained the same, though; Uryu was still a pretentious asshole, Chad was still silent and thoughtful, Orihime was still sweet and shy. Ichigo was the only one who had really changed all that much. He still fought sometimes, when somebody asked for it, but for the most part he had become more subdued.

I guess having my powers taken away will do that, he thought wryly. It had been over a year, but he still hadn't quite come to terms with the fact that he was no longer a Soul Reaper. Some good things had come out of it. He spent a lot more time with his family; his dad was still a loon, but his sisters really enjoyed having him around. He got to hang out with his friends more, and it was kind of refreshing knowing that they weren't constantly under the threat of death by Hollow or Arrancar or crazed ex-Soul Reaper captain.

Still, sometimes he just couldn't help but feel useless, especially when he knew Uryu was running off hunting Hollows at Urahara's beck and call. Despondent, he kicked a pebble and watched it skitter across the concrete pathway. He kept reminding himself that he had chosen this path, because he had no other choice and it would be best for everybody, but some selfish part of him just couldn't help but be bitter about it. He longed to hold Zangetsu in his hands again, to feel the adrenaline rushing through his blood and the sweat running down his skin, to hear the ring of steel in the air…

"Shut up, Ichigo," he mumbled and knocked on the side of his head, as if that would forcibly remove his melancholy thoughts. "It was worth it."

It really was. As he glanced out into the street, looking out into the quiet town, he reminded himself that he had saved this place and everyone in it. He watched as a breeze whistled across the landscape, gently shaking the leaves that were dyed gold with the setting sun, watched the small cars cruising along in no hurry, listened to the joyful laughter of children echoing from the playground across the street, and was reminded that Karakura Town was altogether peaceful. If he hadn't made a stand against Aizen, this place would have been wiped off the face of the Earth.

He kept telling himself that, but somehow it still didn't make it any better.

By the time he trudged through the gate and across the pathway leading to his house, Ichigo couldn't shake the sad realization that he was just an ordinary human now. He kept his gaze trained on his feet as he unlocked the door and shuffled inside, but his head suddenly snapped up when he heard incoherent screeching echoing down the hallway, just in time for his father to drop-kick him right in the face.

"You're too depressed!" he yelled at him as Ichigo crumpled to the ground holding his nose, which was streaming blood but miraculously not broken. Infuriated, he glared up at his father, a vein popping out of his forehead as he angrily pointed a finger at him.

"What the hell is your problem?! Do you want to kill me?! I'll call child services, you crazy old coot!" he shouted at him, but the handsome, rugged man just waved a hand dismissively with a satisfied grin.

"Your reflexes have gotten slow! You're too in your head. Besides, I know you can take a hit," he sniggered at him, stroking his beard as he continued to bask in his apparent victory. Ichigo just snorted and dragged himself to his feet, holding his gushing nose and staggering past him to stumble into the kitchen and fumble around for a rag. Yuzu was there as usual, standing over a simmering pot on the stove; she whirled around with a cheerful smile and a happy greeting dancing on her tongue, but when she found that her brother was bleeding profusely and obviously irritated, her smile morphed into a frown and she puffed out her cheeks. With one hand on her hip, she spun on her heels to begin yelling at their father, who had slunk into the kitchen after his son.

"Father! You can't just go around beating Ichigo up!" she cried defiantly and rushed over to hit him over the head with the ladle. His cool persona instantly dissolved, and he began blubbering and begging Yuzu for forgiveness. Holding a bloodied rag to his nose, Ichigo just rolled his eyes and walked out of the kitchen, the sound of Yuzu's high-pitched girly voice and his father's pathetic excuse to pacify her fading away as he marched to his bedroom. When he walked in, he kicked the door shut with a foot and tossed his bookbag to the side before flopping down on his back on the bed with a long groan. Man… Now my head hurts, he thought as his face throbbed where his father's feet made contact. Damn crazy person. He rolled onto his side, still holding the cloth to his face, and narrowed his eyes slightly when his gaze fell across his bedroom closet.

Rukia used to stay in there. Since he had left the Soul Society, he hadn't seen her. He had lost his ability to see ghosts, and so Soul Reapers by extension, but he knew that there were ways to get around that. He reasoned that she probably didn't come around for a number of reasons. The Aizen War was a massive conflict, and they were probably still cleaning up the mess. Rukia was an officer, too, so she was probably busy with that, too. Mostly though, Ichigo figured that she probably didn't want him to feel bad. Still… She's my friend. You'd think she'd still try, he thought miserably, pulling the rag away from his face when he felt confident that his nose had stopped bleeding. He could almost see her, jumping out of the closet yelling at him that a Hollow was nearby. Things had been so simple back then. How did it manage to get so complicated?

Aizen's face flashed into his mind, with his wavy brown hair and false kind persona. Right. He made it complicated, he recalled with a snort, sitting up and rubbing his pounding head. For some reason, he remembered arriving onto the scene after the intense training session between realities, when Aizen had been standing over a sobbing Rangiku with full intent to kill. He had never really figured out what happened between her and Gin, but for some reason, seeing her like that had always stuck with him. Then after, when he had gone to see her and she had seemed so upset despite trying to play it off. A lot of women I know are like that, he thought wryly. Especially the Soul Reapers.

Rangiku popped up in his mind quite often. Sometimes, he would be thinking about something, and somehow his train of thought would derail to the beautiful, boisterous young woman. He wasn't sure why. It wasn't like he was as close to her as he was to Rukia. They had only fought together a couple of times. Yet his mind was seemingly bent on her, her beautiful yellow-orange hair that flowed in waves down her small frame, her perfect, smooth skin that he was sure would feel like silk it he touched it, that voluptuous body with curves in all the right places.

"Ugh. You think too much," he mumbled and flopped back down onto the bed, laying an arm over his eyes as he closed them. Even in that darkness, she danced, smiling at him and reaching up to playfully ruffle his hair. He found himself smiling slightly. He liked the feeling of her fingers running through his hair, tousling it gently. It was amazing how it had been so long since he had actually felt it, but he could summon that feeling from the depths of his memory. But now… I can't ever feel that again. It made him a lot sadder than he figured it would. Sadder, even, than the realization that he would never see Rukia or Renji again. It was odd.

"Ichigoooooo!" a cheerful voice floated up from outside his window, and he sat up and pushed it open to find Orihime standing on the sidewalk in her work uniform, holding a couple of bread items that she had brought home from work. "I got some extras from work. Do you want any?" she offered him with a friendly smile. Talking to her was definitely better than brooding, so he waved her up and slipped down from the bed to go greet her at the door. He could hear her sputtering shyly and insisting she didn't need to come inside, but he went out there and dragged her in nonetheless. She spent a few minutes cheerfully chatting with Yuzu and her father before she followed the mute Ichigo to his bedroom, where she stood stiffly holding the breads, her cheeks a bright pink color.

"Orihime, you've been in my house before. Sit down," he huffed as he stretched out on his bead and plucked a bun from the selection she had to offer, chewing on it thoughtfully as he laid an arm behind his head.

"Yes, you're right. I'm just tired from work," she laughed nervously and timidly sat down at the end of his bed, still blushing. They had known each other for years now, but she still acted so shy around him. Girls are weird, he concluded as he took another large bite of the soft bread. She looked down at her lap, taking a bun and nibbling it in that cute, girlish way of hers, before quietly asking, "Are you okay, Ichigo?" The spontaneous question made him raise his eyebrows.

"Eh? Of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be?" he blinked. Of course he wasn't okay, he had lost his Soul Reaper powers and was bored out of his mind, but he didn't want Orihime to worry about him. So, he lied. Orihime, thankfully, wasn't one to pry.

"I'm sorry. You just… Seem a little off? I can't really explain it," she smiled weakly and nervously smoothed down her luscious orangey-auburn locks. Looks like Rangiku's hair, he thought absently. He looked away from her, chewing on the inside of his cheek slightly.

"I'm fine," he insisted once more, partially trying to reassure himself of that fact. He could feel the business card in his pants pocket, the sharp corner digging slightly into his leg. He had this strange feeling, this abnormal hunch, that Ginjo could help him get his powers back. It was so asinine to think of, that a random stranger he had just met could hold the key to restoring what had given his life meaning, but for some reason he just couldn't shake that suspicion. Ginjo knew so many things about that side of his life, after all, and Ichigo knew that he was hiding something. Really, Ginjo was a shifty character and wasn't to he trusted.

Ichigo just couldn't help it. The allure was too great.

I could hunt Hollows again. I could see Rukia and Renji and Ikkaku and all of them again…

Rangiku… I could see Rangiku again.

"Ichigo? What are you thinking about?" Orihime inquired politely, bringing him back to reality. He turned his gaze back to her to find that she was staring at him with wide eyes, delicately holding the half-eaten bun in her small hands. Her expression was one of deep worry. Ichigo knew he shouldn't bother lying to her, because she was the type to worry anyway. He decided to at least tell a little bit of the truth.

"I was just thinking about how much I miss them all," he admitted with a small sigh, looking back out the window. The sun was still in the process of setting, dipping below the house across the street in a yellow ball of blazing fire. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see her face melt into one of understanding, and she nodded sadly.

"Yeah… I miss Rukia a lot. She was a lot of fun to be around."

"Mhmm," he murmured absently. His mind was on Rangiku again, dammit. How could he bring up one girl and think of another? Dad must have really knocked my brain around, he thought with a slight scowl, running his hand over his face and feeling the tenderness of early bruising. Ugh… I'm definitely too in my head.

They talked for a little while and Ichigo returned a manga that he had borrowed from her before she went on her way, cheerfully waving and smiling like she always did. He could still see that shadow of worry in her expression, though. After she had left, he exhaled deeply and flopped face-first into the bed, the lingering cloud of depression hanging over him making him tired. He turned his head and suddenly pulled out the business card, staring thoughtfully at it.

What have I got to lose?