Seven o'clock. Thursday.
He can hear the ruckus downstairs long before he feels the familiar reiatsu and his resentment begins to build. Isshin is clapping the visitor on the back like an old friend; Yuzu is already headed toward the kitchen to fix him a sandwich and a cold glass of milk, as dinner was over with long ago. Sometimes he'll demure and she'll cajole him until he accepts leftovers. Whatever the meal is, he's headed upstairs with it as soon as he gets it. He'll kick the door open since he doesn't have a free hand, whoop his greeting and plop down on the bed in the wake of his trail of crumbs and drops of milk.
For another ten minutes it'll be chewing (a sound that reminds Ichigo of nothing so much as cattle) interspersed with the occasional grunt and the rare gulp of air.
While this is happening, Ichigo will pretend to read. Pretend.
Then the meal will be over. There will be a silence as the visitor lets his meal settle, his dark eyes roving over every corner of the room as if looking for contraband. Then he'll take a deep breath and it'll start. "How have you been, kid?"
Ichigo will murmur an answer, usually "Pretty much the same" and that will prompt a "That's all? Che, do you do anything but study?" or something to that effect.
To which Ichigo will reply that he's too far behind in school and to screw off any more than he already has will result in him embarking on a career in pumping gas or flipping burgers in the future. The visitor's response to that will be to pick his nose or examine his fingernails. Sometimes both at once.
After another short pause there will be another question, the one the visitor's really wanted to ask all along and Ichigo knows this because it's the only consistent thing about him. "Have you heard from her?"
And Ichigo will answer truthfully. "No, I haven't."
"Not a word? Not even a hell butterfly?"
"No letters, no postcards, no text messages, not even a crappy picture."
"Ah." Another pause. And then, today, "When did you get that one?" On the closet door is a particularly horrific picture of bunnies and bears.
"I've had that one. She drew it her first night here." He feels like he's answered this one before, too many times.
"It's shitty."
"I know that."
"Why do you still have it?"
As many times as that question has been fired at him, Ichigo still refuses to answer it. He is careful to keep his face turned away lest the inquisitor notice how red his cheeks are.
After another moment or two of silence, the visitor will rise, stretch and give him a clap on the back. "Oh well. I'm supposed to be on duty right now, might as well shove off. I'll come see you again later."
Ichigo's lip curls. Probably next Thursday. He turns back to his homework and tries a little harder to concentrate.
Safely outside, Renji will make his report. "It's all normal here, taichou. I'm sure there's somethin' goin' on but he's not budgin'. Have you had any luck with her? Ah. . . well. . .if you don't mind my saying, taichou, one of them's gotta give in sometime soon. . .Yes, I understand you didn't just send me here to eat, sir. I'll be back in Soul Society in a few hours. Yes sir. Good night, sir." He'll turn off his phone after that, sigh deeply, and move out. The work is good for him. That way he doesn't have to think about it any more than he absolutely has to. But the thought of going back and stealing that picture does pop into his mind once in a while, though.