A/N: Prompt, day 7 IR Week 2021: Shiba Ichigo (is it really over? DX)
Yuino = Japanese engagement party in which the spouses' families exchange symbolic gifts
Kukaku's house was much the same as when Ichigo first visited her, which was to say, his expectations were entirely met. While the banner-waving arms over the house were long gone, in their place was a rendition of some sort of sea god, as indicated by the statue's flowing beard, nautical crown, and trident. The god itself was facing the front of the house, staring into the distance as if gazing triumphantly yet yearningly at the sea it was so very far from. Behind the statue rose the tall, daunting figure of the cannon that was a permanent fixture to Kukaku's home much as a lawn gnome might be to any other residence.
Rolling his eyes at the melodrama of it all, Ichigo knocked once on the door. Before he could even step back, it flew open, revealing the twin forms of Koganehiko and Shiroganehiko. In unison, the brothers shouted, "The return of the long lost cousin, Shiba Ichigo-sama!"
"Hey guys," Ichigo said with a nervous smile; he had never quite grown used to hearing himself addressed as a Shiba, or with the honorific -sama. "Kukaku's expecting me—"
"We are aware!" Koganehiko declared.
"She's waiting for you!" Shiroganehiko proclaimed simultaneously.
"Follow us!" the brothers shouted before whirling around and marching one after the other down the stairs that led to the rest of the house.
Sighing quietly, Ichigo followed the brothers down the dark stairwell, which slowly brightened as they neared the hallway lined with glowing vines. His eyes took a moment to adjust as they entered the house proper, but he managed to follow the butlers slash bodyguards as they led him to the sitting room. Even if he had lost them, this house's architecture still held a note of familiarity that reminded him of the one he'd visited all those years before, when he was not visiting to discuss his wedding but plan the rescue of his now fiancée.
In unison, Koganehiko and Shiroganehiko kneeled before the sitting room's double shoji door and announced Ichigo's arrival. They each gripped one side of the door and pulled it open, revealing a large space filled with nothing but pillows, pipe smoke, and Kukaku herself.
"Thanks, guys," Kukaku said, pulling from her pipe. She blew out the smoke as Ichigo entered the room, bowed once, and knelt before her.
Kukaku waited until Koganehiko and Shiroganehiko closed the doors again before addressing Ichigo directly. "So I got your SOS," she said. "I didn't think you'd need me again so soon after the yuino, but then again, your wedding is right around the corner."
Ichigo smiled sheepishly. "Yeah. Thanks, by the way," he said.
"Hmph," Kukaku said. She pulled on her pipe once more. "You know," she said, smoke pouring from her mouth, "I'm surprised your bride hasn't killed you. If you ask me, it's damn offensive to put off getting your montsuki to the week before your nuptials."
"It wasn't my fault," Ichigo said hotly. "The tailor messed everything up, then Byakuya kicked up all that drama about me becoming a Kuchiki and dying their crest into the haori—"
"He's obliged to do that, idiot," Kukaku said, narrowing her eyes at Ichigo. "He's from the more powerful family, so it's only natural he'd want to give you the more powerful name." She paused. "I'm actually surprised you turned him down."
Ichigo rolled his eyes. "I have more than one reason not to want to become a Kuchiki."
Kukaku eyed him carefully before shrugging, as though she'd never given him that amount of attention. "Can't say I blame you." She pulled on her pipe and exhaled sharply. "But enough of this chitchat. You need a montsuki, and talk's not going to do anything for you unless we act."
Nodding his agreement, Ichigo sat up straighter. "Thank you again for allowing me to wear the Shiba crest, Kukaku," he said.
"Ch, don't thank me," Kukaku said. "You're entitled to wear it, and you've already made it clear you want nothing to do with the Kuchiki clan." A small smirk grew on her lips. "I'm proud of you, kid."
Ichigo's eyes went wide. "Oh, thanks Ku—"
"I said enough chitchat!" Kukaku yelled. She dropped her pipe on an ashtray and abruptly stood from her mass of pillows. "Let's go shopping."
Knowing better than to oppose her, Ichigo stood as well and waited for Kukaku to lead the way out of the room. He fell in line behind her, and they turned right toward the front door. However, Kukaku strode past it without so much as a glance up the stairwell.
"Uh, Kukaku?" Ichigo said, slowing his pace as he pointed up the stairs. "Aren't we leaving?"
Kukaku stopped and glanced over her shoulder, only to roll her eyes and continue on. "You should get used to shopping at home. All the rich folk do it."
Unsure if that was a snide remark about the family he was marrying into, Ichigo jogged to catch up with Kukaku. "I didn't think you'd have stuff brought here," he said.
"Kinda needed to be brought here once I moved," Kukaku said without elaboration.
"Well, in any case, thank you for paying—"
"Whoa, hold it there, kid." Kukaku held up her hand and squinted at him. "I'm not paying for anything, you are. I'm just here to keep you from looking stupid and embarrassing the family."
Ichigo stiffened, caught between reacting to Kukaku's insult and not getting his ass kicked. "I'm, uh, sorry for the misunderstanding…" he said at last (he still made a face once Kukaku wasn't looking).
After what turned out to be a few more minutes of walking, Kukaku stopped before a door almost at the end of a long hallway. She did not open it right away, though there was a distinct frown on her lips. Something deep inside him told Ichigo not to comment, and he waited until Kukaku shook her head at something and finally slid the door open.
"It's a little dusty in here," she said as she stepped into the room. She coughed as if to prove her point.
Stepping inside after her, Ichigo did a double take: this was not the scene he anticipated for home shopping. Rather than racks of black montsuki lining the walls, all being fussed over by an ass-kissing personal shopper, the room contained but a few wooden trunks and some boxes. An old scroll hung on one of the walls, and in a corner sat a low table, its surface covered in a thick layer of dust.
Bearing no surprise at the sight, Kukaku pointed to one of the trunks. "Help me start looking," she said. "It's been a while since I've been down here, so I don't know where it is."
"'It'?" Ichigo asked, taking a cautious step further into the room.
Kukaku scoffed. "Your montsuki, idiot." She shook her head as she opened one of the trunks. "How the hell your betrothed hasn't killed you yet out of sheer impatience…."
Rolling his eyes, Ichigo bent over another of the trunks and clicked open the clasps. The lid creaked heavily as he pushed it up: it contained no clothes, but there were stacks of books and papers in it. One yellowing paper appeared to be a list of select squads, some of them crossed out and others starred:
Squad 1 X
Squad 5
Squad 6 X
Squad 7 X
Squad 10*
Squad 13*
"Uh, Kukaku," Ichigo said, turning the list over and back again, "is this someone's—"
"The less you talk, the faster we'll find the montsuki," she barked.
Ichigo reluctantly did as told and set the list back in the trunk. As he looked through a second, he began to piece together an idea of what this room contained. For the most part, it was all junk, but there was also something distinctly familiar about it. Most notably, he found an old record player with a vinyl still inside it and, squinting at its label, discovered it was Billie Holiday's Billie Holiday Sings. Sifting through more of the chest, he found a dried up sword-cleaning kit with a design retro even for the Soul Society.
"You won't find the montsuki in there," Kukaku said. "It's mostly hobby stuff in that chest, if memory serves me."
Ichigo looked up at her and then back down at the sword-cleaning kit. "We're not really shopping, are we?" he asked.
Kukaku grunted. "Don't be stupid. Of course we are." She slammed closed the lid of another chest.
Smiling to himself, Ichigo carefully replaced the sword-cleaning kit and record player that contained one of his father's favorite albums.
Between the two of them, their search quickly narrowed down to one chest, which they kneeled before to examine together. Piles of muted and black fabrics met them, though Ichigo hardly had time to admire the silk before Kukaku was lifting the clothes from the chest. While she didn't necessarily throw them from the trunk, there was something fervent in the way she peeled back the layers of clothing.
Ichigo joined in, though he handled the clothes with a touch more care. He let his eyes run over each piece, silently appraising them. While some of the patterns weren't anything he'd ever seen his father in (they were much too reserved), if the clothing's size was to be believed, this was his. But arriving at this assumption, Ichigo decided to keep it to himself. Kukaku would probably brush him off anyway, or remind him how Isshin's abandoning his branch of the Shiba clan had done the family more harm than good. It was the least Ichigo could do to make up for his father's choices by letting their family head speak on her own terms.
As he turned back to the chest after laying aside a dark blue haori, Kukaku held out her hand. She was staring intently at a black piece of fabric, and Ichigo knew they'd found what they were looking for.
"Lay it out on the floor," Kukaku said, standing up and backing away from the trunk. "Carefully."
Trying not to sweat the pressure, Ichigo carefully extracted the montsuki pieces from the chest. From top to bottom, he laid out the black and gray habutai silk, letting his hands gently touch the dyed Shiba crests on either breast of the haori. He even found a matching pair of shoes wrapped in tissue paper at the bottom of the chest; if their size was to be believed, this was indeed Isshin's old stuff.
Once the montsuki was laid out, Ichigo rose to stand beside Kukaku. Together, they admired the formal clothing, gently ignoring its jagged pleats and wrinkles.
"Thank you, Kukaku," Ichigo said quietly. "It's—"
"Put it on," Kukaku said.
"Oh, um…." Ichigo glanced around the room. "There isn't really anything I can change behind—"
"Then make it fast." Kukaku promptly turned her back to him, her hand on her hip.
Ichigo felt a blush rise onto his cheeks. "K-Kukaku—"
"I'm waiting!"
Realizing he had no choice, Ichigo rapidly shed his shihakusho, trying his hardest not to think about how all Kukaku had to do was turn around and catch him in the Chappy-themed boxer briefs Rukia had bought him years ago. He doubted she'd have the patience to hear that they were his only clean pair that morning.
Thankfully, though, Kukaku didn't turn around until Ichigo was fully dressed, having tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around quickly, but the second she took in his full form, her eyes going wide, she didn't move further. Only her eyes continued from his feet to his chest, to his face, to his hair. Not a word left her taut lips as she inspected him.
After a minute of silence passed between them, Ichigo cleared his throat and adjusted the five-crested haori. "It's a little big," he said, shaking out the slightly too-long hakama, "but it'll do, I think."
Kukaku nodded slowly. "You look just like him," she said. Her voice cracked, and she didn't even try to hide it.
Ichigo raised an eyebrow. "I do?" He glanced down at himself, wishing there was a mirror. He'd never especially been told he resembled Isshin, and Kukaku had never compared them save to remind Ichigo of his duty to pick up the pieces of Isshin's mess.
Kukaku scoffed. "Of course you look like him," she said, her voice cracking even more. "Especially given the occasion. He had this montsuki commissioned for his wedding."
Ichigo frowned. His father hadn't married as a Shiba. Who was—
"Oh," he said, his eyes widening and then falling in shame. Of course. Why would Kukaku be holding back tears over a distant cousin? These were Kaien's things. This was Kaien's montsuki.
Swallowing once, Ichigo made sure Kukaku was looking before he offered her a slow, forty-five-degree bow, his hands held firmly at his side. "Thank you, Kukaku-sama," he said quietly. He rose back up from his bow just as slowly.
Kukaku nodded once before turning away, wiping furious at her eyes. "Hell, this dust is killing me," she said with a tremendous sniff.
Ichigo smiled politely. "Maybe we should continue 'shopping' somewhere—"
"Don't even," Kukaku said, all sign of tears fleeing as aggression once again filled her eyes. "You're still buying this montsuki, Shiba Ichigo. No way in hell are you getting it for free."
"S-sorry," he said, holding up his hands. "Um…what do I owe you?"
Despite the return of her ferocity, Kukaku's eyes were once again shimmering. "You need to understand something," she said quietly. "I forgave your fiancée years ago for killing my brother, but that is very different from her becoming part of our family. At arm's length, I don't mind calling her an ally or even a friend, but any closer and, I won't lie, I get uncomfortable. Worse yet, she is a Kuchiki, and now I get the honor of dealing with her arrogant jerkoff of a brother making faces at the only gifts I can afford for the fucking yuino—" Kukaku cut herself off and released her clenched fist.
Ichigo opened his mouth to respond, but she thrust her hand up for his silence. "But you know what, Ichigo?" she said. "I'm willing to overlook all of that. I can suck it up and be fair to you because I see what's there between you and Little Miss Kuchiki. It's just like what was between her and Kaien, only stronger. And my brother wasn't the kind to let a relationship lie fallow." Kukaku let out a sharp breath. "Clearly, there is something inevitable between your fiancée and the Shiba clan, and I'd be a fool to ignore it." She rolled her eyes. "Hell, maybe this union with the Kuchiki clan will even restore a little bit of respect for us."
A retort about Kukaku's contentment outside the Seireitei formed in Ichigo's mind, but he checked himself before letting it go.
As if following his train of thought, Kukaku glared at him. "So this is what you're going to do in order to wear my brother's montsuki for your wedding, Shiba Ichigo," she said. "Swear to me, right now, in front of everything I have left of Kaien, that you will do everything in your power to make your marriage to Kuchiki Rukia work."
Nodding his firm assent, Ichigo opened his mouth once more, but Kukaku cut him off yet again.
"No, don't just agree to humor me," she growled. "If any trouble arises in your marriage, you will not give up on it. If she does something you think is unforgivable, learn to forgive her. If you make a horrible mistake, fix it for her." Her fist clenched. "Tell me that whenever your relationship is about to die, you will fight to save it, because if you don't, you will offend Kaien's memory, and I will not live with the guilt of letting you do that."
As many words that came to mind, Ichigo did not immediately speak. Kukaku's price was not cheap by any means, perhaps even unreasonable. But think what he would, there was only one possible answer to this demand, and not just because he needed a montsuki.
Smoothing the silk of Kaien's shirt, Ichigo stood up straight and looked Kukaku right in the eye. "I promise you," he said, "I'll finally create something good between ours and the Kuchiki family. I won't let you down."
Her eyes once again glassy, Kukaku nodded just once before looking away from him. She sniffed loudly, but Ichigo could've swore he heard her say "thank you" beneath it.
In any case, Kukaku sniffed again and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Let's get out of here," she said. "This dust is torture."
"Sure is." He bent down to pick up his shed shihakusho.
As he did so, Kukaku watched him, though her eyes weren't truly set on his movements. "Yeah, that thing definitely needs to be taken in in a few places, not to mention visit a dry cleaner," she said.
Ichigo smiled lightly and made for the hallway. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I'll take care of all that."
Kukaku's loud guffaw followed him out of the room. "You really think I'm gonna let you do that? If we stick to your schedule, it'll be a month from now before the montsuki's ready."
Ichigo scowled. "I said it wasn't my fault!"
"You still could've come to me sooner, dumbass." She whacked the back of his head.
"Ow, fucking hell—"
"Yeah, it hurts to be stupid, doesn't it?"
Nursing wounds both physical and emotional, Ichigo grumbled the rest of the way back to the sitting room, though there was no doubting the pride blooming inside him at honoring Kaien—and the rest of the Shiba clan—at his wedding. Maybe it wasn't so strange to consider himself Shiba Ichigo.
A/N: This was such a fun week! I've loved seeing everyone's fanworks and plain dedication to the ship that is IchiRuki! Hope you all enjoyed yourselves as much as I did!