Ichigo lay on his back upon his bed, distractedly twiddling a pen between his fingers. He had returned from Aizen's flat a half hour ago with the intention of spending some time with his increasingly suspicious family, as well as making a start on the coursework which was due the week after next. His plans had been thwarted on both accounts, first by a note that had been left for him by his absent family. They had gone to visit Urahara and Yoruichi for the evening, an unexpected but not unusual thing for them to do on a Friday night.

Ichigo had briefly considered joining them; it wasn't far for him to walk. Evenings spent at the shop which Urahara had half converted into a home (one of his many unfinished projects) and used occasionally to sell whatever the mood took him to sell were always interesting to say the least. But thinking back to their earlier conversation he decided against it. Urahara's interest in his relationship had been thoroughly piqued. The blonde loved a good mystery and he would not let up with his investigation until he discovered the truth behind Ichigo's situation.

He wasn't sure that he was ready for his family to know that he was seeing someone, but he was definitely sure that he wasn't ready for them to know the identity of said person. And he didn't think that he'd be able to put with an entire evening of Urahara's sharp, amused eyes upon him, and long fingers prodding at the bruises on his neck.

He tapped the lid of the pen against his lips and sighed softly. The second part of his evening plans was currently being ruined by his own distracted mind. Every time he tried to turn his attention towards his Murakami analysis his mind would wander off towards thoughts of chestnut brown strands and deep, dark eyes. His conscience berated him, he had less than a week left to finish this essay and he knew that Aizen wouldn't hesitate to kick his ass over late submissions even if they were sleeping together.

He cursed quietly as he turned over onto his front, burying his face in the pillow and groaning inaudibly. As he mediated with his face in his pillow he reflected upon the real reason that he couldn't get his tutor out of his mind this time.

It was the girl. The little ghost girl.

It wasn't just the shock that had come with discovering that Aizen was being haunted, nor was it the fact that she had left so suddenly, leaving him no time to attempt to communicate with her. It was the way she had looked. Most ghosts seemed so sad, so lost, but her eyes shone with something different, an emotion that Ichigo had recognised instantly. Love, pure innocent love that only children seemed to possess. And she was so small, so pale and fading. He'd never seen a ghost like that before. She had seemed barely there, as though it was taking all her energy just to materialise.

She had haunted Ichigo all evening, not physically, but her image was stuck in his mind. At first he had assumed that she had been a relative of Aizen's, a daughter or a younger sister, but after repeatedly running her image through his mind he decided that there was no resemblance there, in neither their mannerisms nor their appearance. Aizen's features were sharp and sleek, hers were soft and round. Aizen was tall and well built, she was short and thin. Where the brunette was carefully guarded, she let her emotions shine on her face. He was dark, she was light.

It just didn't make any sense. The questions had eaten away at him inside his mind all the time he had been with Aizen and they still preoccupied him now. One part of him suggested that the simplest thing to do would be to just ask him about her, while the other part knew that that was a very bad idea. It was too much to share, too weird, too soon. It could ruin everything that the two of them were so precariously building. He smiled softly to himself as his mind shifted towards the thought of what exactly it was that they were creating.

Their budding relationship was full of surprises, things new and alien to Ichigo. Like how the warmth of another's hand could provide such comfort, and that staying awake all night just talking and exploring each other's bodies could feel so exhilarating. Like Ichigo's surprise and amusement at Aizen's appearance the first morning he had awoken before the elder man; no glasses; messy hair; stubble; morning breath. He'd always imagined the well groomed man to be above such human shortcomings and seeing him like that was somehow exciting and strangely poignant.

It was the smallest hint of vulnerability, sharing yourself with another without fear.

Aizen, when viewed from an outsider's perspective, was indubitably a cold, hard, sarcastic kind of man, and even to Ichigo he seemed this way at times. (He was on the receiving end of his sarcasm nearly 24/7 now). And he had not expected that a change in their relationship would elicit much of a change in his attitude and behaviour, and he was right not to do so. But it was slowly becoming clear to the boy that there was something kind, something warm in the man. It was hidden beneath protective layers of bitterness and self-isolation, but it was there, like some long buried and forgotten treasure. Sometimes he would slip and Ichigo would catch him looking at him with an uncharacteristic softness in his eyes, like he was regarding some deeply precious object, but when caught in the act would deflect and hit back with a sarcastic comment or a swift capture of the lips, as though he was afraid to have the boy gaze beneath the surface into the murky waters of his soul.

He felt his face turning red just thinking about it and realised that he still hadn't gotten any work done. Growling softly he grudgingly pulled his face from his pillow, rolled off the bed and over to his desk, trying fruitlessly to put all thoughts of dark haired tutors and pale little girls out of his head.

An hour and a mere five pages of the English translation of Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World later and Ichigo had just about completely given up on getting any work done when he heard a soft clatter against his window. He paused in his façade of work, pricking up his ears as the sound came again. Frowning, he glanced at the clock. It was nearly 10pm. There was a soft spike in his stomach as the possibility that it was Aizen crossed his mind before immediately being rejected. Throwing gravel at Ichigo's window was definitely not his style.

He climbed back onto his bed to open the window and lean out, only to be hit in the forehead by a pebble. Swearing, he recoiled as he was greeted by the familiar laughter of Renji Abarai.

"That hurt! Asshole." He growled through clenched teeth at the laughing redheaded figure on the ground below. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I came to see you." Renji wiped tears of laughter from his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. "Wondered if you were gonna come out of exile to spend some time with your friends."

"I guessed that much." Ichigo frowned as he rubbed at the sore spot on his head. "I mean what are you doing throwing rocks at my window? I have a doorbell you know."

"Yeah right." Renji snorted as he leant against the trunk of a tree. "Like I'm going to risk running into your little sister again. I still have bruises from the last time."

"You are such a pansy." Ichigo smirked when Renji stuck his tongue out at him. "Don't worry, she's not in."

"Shut up. So you coming out?"

"It's nearly ten Renji." Ichigo sighed theatrically as he cocked his head at him.

"Yeah, and its Friday night and you've been holding out on me for weeks." He pouted. "C'mon, Ichi, don't make me beg."

As amusing as that sounded, Ichigo supposed that he wasn't going to get any more work done anyway. Not as distracted as he was. He had been neglecting his friends just as much as his family over the past few weeks and knew he should make it up to them too.

"Ugh, fine." He gave in. Renji practically beamed and Ichigo remembered one of the reasons they were friends. Simple things made the tattooed man so happy and it was hard not to be infected by his simple cheerfulness. "Gimme a sec."

Renji shot him a salute and grinned so wide that Ichigo couldn't help but smile back as he brought his head back in and shut the window behind him. Grabbing a thick hooded sweatshirt to protect against the cold of the autumn night, he made his way downstairs. He scrawled a quick note for his family explaining his whereabouts and left it upon the kitchen table before heading out. He was locking up the front door when he was swiftly joined by Renji and his shit eating grin.

"So what's the plan?" Ichigo wondered as to what they were going to do. The two redheads were well known for their run-ins with troublemakers and the two of them walking around the streets after dark was always asking for trouble.

"Everyone else is down at 'The Ninth'." Renji shrugged as they started walking.

'The Ninth' was their regular hangout spot, a café/bar where Hisagi worked evenings. The manager, Kensei, a stern man with white hair and several piercings, let them hang about there on the condition that they didn't cause any trouble. He'd never admit it but he had a soft spot for Hisagi and cut his friends a lot of slack. Better to have them in the bar than out on the street getting into trouble he always said.

"Right." He nodded. The bar would be crowded tonight, but it was better than walking the streets.

"So, Ichigo," the tone of Renji's voice was teasing, but edged with something different, "where you been lately?"

"Nowhere." Ichigo shot him a suspicious look from the corner of his eye and tried to keep his voice casual. "Just been busy."

"Uh-huh." He had expected Renji to push the issue and was gratefully surprised when he didn't. He was usually like a dog with a bone when it came to finding out details of other people's personal lives. "So, um, have you spoken to Rukia recently?"

Ah, so that was it.

"Not since last week, why?" He smirked and had to bite back a laugh at the look which crossed Renji's face. "You miss her?"

"No!" The tattooed man frowned at him and his tone turned sulky. He shoved his hands into his pockets and huffed. "Awh forget it."

"No, I'm sorry…" Ichigo sounded half teasing and half genuine. They walked in silence for a moment before he spoke up again. "She asked after you."

"Really?" That perked him up. "Did she say anything else?"

"Just that she's going to try and come visit soon."

"Oh." There was an uncharacteristically thoughtful pause from Renji. "That'd be good."

"Yeah." Ichigo smirked again as he nudged him with his elbow. It was way too much fun to tease the elder redhead. "Yeah it would."

"Shut up." Renji frowned again without any real venom as he nudged Ichigo back.

"She likes you, you know." Ichigo turned his head to catch Renji's surprised glance.

"No she doesn't." The painted lines that ran down to his brows furrowed in hopeful disbelief.

"No, she does." She'd never admit it, being just as much of a coward about such things as Renji was. And their fear both stemmed from the same source. "You're both just too scared of Byakuya to admit it."

"I'm not scared of him!" Renji scoffed unconvincingly.

"Oh yeah." Ichigo raised a sceptical eyebrow at him. "Then how come you haven't done anything about it?"

"I told you, she doesn't like me." He shrugged his shoulders. "Not that way anyway."

"You'll never know until you try." There was truth in that sentiment and they both knew it. Ichigo stuck his hands in his pockets against the cold air of the night as they walked, the two young men lapsing into a temporary silence as each was lost in their own thoughts about a certain girl.

Ichigo had known Rukia Kuchiki a long time, ever since he had run into her on the street; a pretentious, upper class girl with a suitcase in tow picking a fight with a group of thugs. He'd promptly been dragged into that situation, and after she had half carried him back to the clinic and tended to his wounds he learned about her personal situation.

Rukia came from a prestigious and strictly traditional Japanese family. Her whole life had been spent stifled beneath the cloak of the head of the family, her incredibly overprotective elder brother, Byakuya. He was a senior partner at Gotei Inc., a privately owned weapons manufacturing company. Running from her stifling home and school, Rukia had come to Karakura and, after selling Isshin and his daughters her sob story, had taken up a temporary residence in Ichigo's home, much to his annoyance.

Despite an initial friction the two of them had become close friends, and Renji had been in love with her from the moment they had first met. He had received a sandal to the face and an arrow to the heart, and hadn't stopped pining after her since. Her Kuchiki pride prevented her from admitting it, but Rukia too had a soft spot for Renji. He was wild and coarse and vibrant and so represented the complete opposite of everything she had ever known, the inverted image of her brother. He was her freedom, if only her pride would allow her to admit it.

Rukia's brother had tracked her down within a month. That had always been inevitable, with his connections there was no limit to his reach. There had been a confrontation between Ichigo and the elder Kuchiki which had turned from a vicious argument into a full-fledged fight, their fists foregone in favour of bokken. A weapon fitting of the stale traditionalism of the Kuchiki's and a lethal weapon in the well trained hands of Byakuya. Ichigo had been beaten down and dumped in the street, and he knew Urahara would never forgive either of them for the night he had found Ichigo lying there, semi-conscious in the rain.

In the end, after weeks of recuperation, training, determination and a little bit of backbone from Rukia, Ichigo had come out on top. Byakuya had given him a scar that would never fade, but he had won and the elder Kuchiki was bound to keep his promises. Rukia had been allowed to return to live in Karakura, finishing her education at an ordinary public school as she had always wanted. Over the past few years an uneasy truce had formed between the two men, but the mark on Ichigo's chest still throbbed a little whenever he was nearby.

She was gone now, back to the city, back to her family. The condition of her being allowed to stay in Karakura was that she return to attend a prestigious private university near her family home once she was finished with public school. She had done so with only a slight hint of animosity. The relationship between the Kuchiki siblings would perhaps always be shaky, but for now it was stronger than it had ever been. Ichigo and Rukia spoke about once a week on the phone and he was assured that so far she seemed to be enjoying herself being back in the city.

He smiled softly as he remembered the strange circumstances from which their friendship had grown. She had brought an entire new level of disarray and disorder to his already chaotic life but he did not regret a moment of it. He was so lost in his thoughts that he did not realise that Renji had started in on one of his long rambling stories until he was nearly at the end of it. Not that the elder redhead noticed, he too so wrapped up in his own tale.

They reached 'The Ninth' just as Renji finished telling his story, still not noticing that Ichigo had barely heard a word of it. As they stepped inside they immediately noticed Hisagi. He stood behind the bar arguing loudly with a short, green haired girl. Kensei and a blonde boy with violet eyes and a vacant expression stood nearby. The blonde was expressionlessly polishing a glass and looked as though he was paying no attention to whatever it was that Kensei was saying to him.

The gaggle of their friends was crowded around a nearby table. Grimmjow was involved in one sided flirtation with a nervous looking Orihime, seemingly unaware of the flicker of anger that crossed Ulquiorra's face every time he leant in closer to her. Nel and Nnoitra were curled up on the coach, his skeletal fingers buried in her long, green hair. Chad, Tatsuki and Ishida sat on a coach beside a comfortable looking armchair in which Starrk was slumped snoozing. Kira sat to Starrk's right, his pale face oddly pensive where it was visible beneath his fringe.

Hisagi paused in his argument to nod at the two redheads as they made their way to stand at the bar. The green haired girl took advantage of his momentary lapse to prod him sharply in the ribs in retaliation for whatever it was they had been arguing about.

"Ouch! Hey watch it Mashiro." Hisagi shot her a look that could kill a lesser person. She merely stuck out her tongue at him before dancing off to deliver a tray full of drinks to a table. "Goddammit." Hisagi muttered as he turned to talk to them. "I swear I don't know why Kensei hired her."

"Well he hired you didn't he?" Renji laughed at the scowl that Hisagi shot him.

"At least I can hold down a job." The brunette's glower softened as he made a face at his friend from across the bar. Renji snorted in response but dropped it, he could tell that this was an argument he was not going to win.

Hisagi relaxed his shoulders, reducing his defences in the wake of his argument with Mashiro. He should have gotten used to their clashes by now but somehow she knew just how to get under his skin and exploited it dreadfully. Kensei let her get away with murder and she was well aware how far she could push, and so of course she exploited that too.

"What can I get you?" He asked as he tapped his fingertips on the bar.

"I'll have a beer." Renji smirked as he leant his elbows on the countertop. Hisagi rolled his eyes at him and turned to the other redhead.

"Just a coffee for me thanks." Ichigo wasn't really in the mood to drink tonight and he was still planning on attempting to get some work done once he returned home. Hisagi nodded before turning away to fix their drinks.

"Now who's the pansy?" Renji teased him gently.

"Oh shut up." Ichigo sighed softly as he turned to rest his back against the bar. He caught Chad's eye and waved at his friends before leaning back, his elbows placed upon the counter.

Ichigo let his gaze wander around the busy room. All types of people frequented 'The Ninth', but in general it was a quiet, pleasant type of place. It was furnished in bright colours and comfortable (if a bit worn and ratty round the edges) armchairs and sofas. Soft music played through speakers in the corners of the room but not loudly enough to disturb any conversation. There were plenty of other bars in the area which catered to the heavy drinkers and the party animals, and he was sure that he'd get dragged to those places once he was old enough to legally be allowed entry. But here the atmosphere was laid back and casual. Not that there wasn't ever any trouble, but incidents of that sort were few and far between and that was why Ichigo liked it here. It was bad enough that he could barely walk down the street without getting into a fight; he had no desire to take up bar brawling either.

For a reason he could not quite pin down his wandering attention was caught by two men standing in the corner of the room. A tall, thin man with blonde hair cut to a razors edge was engaged in what looked like serious conversation with another, a well-dressed, dark skinned man with dark brown braided hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. He wore a silver visor across his eyes and his clothing, a simple but elegant tailored suit minus the tie, gave him away as someone with expensive taste. Now here was a pair that definitely didn't fit in with this crowd.

But it wasn't the fact that they looked out of place which held his attention. It was because the minute his gaze had alighted upon them they had both turned to stare at him. He held the gaze for a moment, never one to back down to a challenging look, and fixed them with his best scowl. The blonde smirked almost predatorily and he shivered. The other didn't really seem to be looking at him at all, indeed it was hard to tell with those odd glasses on, but his expression made him nervous regardless. The small contact of their eyes was strange and unpleasant, it was different from the everyday stares of people looking at his hair, and it was different even than the hostile expressions of the thugs and the troublemakers who seemed constantly drawn to him. Despite his best efforts, it got under his skin and he was the one to break the gaze and turn away.

"Um, Shūhei?" He turned back to the bar as Hisagi sat their drinks down upon it. "Who are those men over there in the corner?" Hisagi glanced over at the two men, one of whom he knew well.

"Oh, well I don't know the blonde, but the other guy is Kaname Tōsen." Ichigo looked blank and Hisagi sighed. "He owns this place."

"Oh?" That was news to him. "I thought Kensei did." The white haired man glanced over at the mention of his name and frowned. He looked like he was going to come over but was distracted by a customer. Hisagi shook his head.

"No he just runs it, Tōsen's the owner." Renji put down some money for their drinks. As Hisagi turned to cash up Ichigo peeked back over his shoulder to see the two men again engaged in conversation, their body language blocking out everyone else present.

Hisagi returned with the change and leant his elbows on the countertop as he continued speaking. "He owns a bunch of bars and restaurants all over Tokyo. Rare for him to come down here though, this is one of the smaller places."

"Wow. He must be pretty rich then." Renji mused, sneaking a glance at the imposing looking man in the corner.

"Yeah. He's a big deal in the city I think." A strange, soft expression came over Hisagi's face as his gaze was drawn to the dark man in the corner. "Or at least he used to be."

Ichigo's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Used to be?"

Hisagi snapped his attention back to Ichigo. He looked like he was about to speak but was cut off by Mashiro approaching, another drinks order scribbled on her notepad and mischief glinting in her eyes. He shrugged and motioned that he had work to do. Ichigo nodded back at him.

As they lifted their drinks and made their way over to join their friends Ichigo could not resist sneaking another glance at the two men. The thin man looked up just as he looked over and their gaze met again. The blonde's eyes laughed at him and he felt his skin crawl. He shot him another scowl and looked away, his attention shifting back to his friends.

Pulling out a seat next to Ishida he sat down, smiling softly as he was greeted by the group. He took a sip of coffee and tried to shake off the feeling of sharp eyes upon him as he began to slip comfortably into the familiar conversation of his friends.

A/N: Just a quick note to say I hope you're enjoying the new direction this fic has taken. I've got pretty much the rest of the story planned out but back at Uni now so updates will slow (sorry sorry). This chapter was originally much longer but I had to chop it down to keep the word count in line with the rest of the chaps. On that note the next chapter may be a bit shorter than usual because of this.

Hope it doesn't disappoint. As usual feedback would be lovely, everyone's been a bit quiet lately since the huuugggeee hiatus so I hope you're all still liking it.

Until next time,

K.