It was a clear, chill night when Ichibro defeated those three frat boys in a drinking contest. They had been stumbling down the street and one of them decided to relieve himself on a certain spot on a certain wall, and due to some bad luck Ichibro happened to be walking by at the time.
"Dude. Party foul." Ichibro declared at the urinating man. "Can't you see that is a memorial you are peeing on?"
"Yhat was thaat, you pnk? I'll pee wherever I whish!" The rather inebriated student declared. His friends started to gather around him, equally angry and belligerent as only a college freshman who drank 3 beers and is sloshed can be.
"Chill, bra! That is where some little girl was hit by a car a couple years back, the family hired a local artist to paint something there in remembrance" Ichibro said while motioning towards the now slightly wet but not terribly damaged mural. "It doesn't look like you've done much to it so let's just cool things down, maybe share a brewski or two and then we can move on, yeah?"
"Fuck you... COOOOOP" yelled one of the teens, seemingly happy with the insult he had heard being shouted on the news between listening to his mom report their neighbors for having a loud party at the late late time of 6pm. "We can pee, wherever, whenever, whyever we wish, our dads are loaded!"
Ah, legacy bids Ichibro thought. He hated legacy frat punks like these, and there was only one way to settle this.
"Broski, there are many things I am, but a pig is not one of them. And since you three seem so committed to being an ass, how about we settle this the old fashioned way: Extreme Beer Pong."
The frat boys gasped; there was no way this guy was serious! Extreme Beer Pong was not something one would challenge another to lightly, let alone three opponents at once! Where would they even get the knives?
"W-Well, we would love to accept" one of the frat boys stammered. "But we don't have the beer or cups-"
With a deft underhand toss, one of the twelve packs of Gameday Ichibro had been holding in his left hand sailed through the air into the frat boy's surprised arms. With a smirk Ichirbo also pulled out some cups, paddles, and the rest of the needed equipment.
"Always pays to be prepared, my duder."
It was at this point that a car drove by and the three frat boys got their first good look at Ichibro and they realized how exactly much they had fucked up. At an even 6 foot and lanky as a pole, Ichibro wasn't the most intimidating at first blush, but one only had to look at his dyed orange hair and his deep amber-chocolate-brown eyes to see the sure amount of buck-wild chaos that existed within his soul.
"Now," Ichobro said with a wide grin. "Are you brosephs ready to party?"
"N-now look here" the third frat boy said. "We don't have the time for three consecutive mat-"
"Oh, I am in a rush too" Ichibro interrupted. "Pops needs some help back at the House so I'll just play you all at the same time!"
It was over almost as soon as it began; the legacies had never seen such skill and control in their lives! Ichibro landed every single shot with accuracy and precision beyond what should be possible, and all this while juggling! The frat boys were drunk before they could return a single volley.
"Now, go home duders! And don't piss on anything else, ya ja-bro-nis!" Ichibro called, before turning to his side. "Hey, thanks for helping me out there."
The ghost of the little girl giggled. "I am always down to help you out Ichibro, you are always so kind to me, and them peeing on my memorial just…"
"Pissed you off?" Ichibro said with the biggest dad-joke-grin he could muster.
Ichibro had always been able to see ghosts, for reasons no one had ever been able to explain. As a kid, everyone just thought he was making stuff up but now that he was in his early 20s, people started to believe him. A few skeptics had challenged him to prove his powers and had even offered him prize money if he could prove it, but Ichibro wasn't interested; people could believe him or not, didn't change the fact he could see and help out ghosts.
The little ghost groaned. "Aren't you a little young for dad jokes?"
"Aren't you a little old to still be here? It has been a few years, I think it is time to move on! I have heard that the afterlife is quite nice this time of year…"
The girl shivered a little, as if she was feeling the cold in her ethereal body. "But what if I don't like it there? What if I don't make any friends?" She turned to Ichibro with tears in her ghostly eyes, somehow. "And you're here! I'll miss you if I have to leave!"
"Aw, I'll miss you too kiddo, but I can't stay here forever; I only have a few more years until I graduate and then I will have to move away." Ichibro knelt down so he could look the ghosty in the eyes. Orbs. Whatever. "How about this: you can always come visit me if you get lonely, ok? And you don't have to go right this second, I just think you should think about it."
"Ok" the little ghost stifled.
"Ok, good! Now, I have to go, if i don't Pops might cause some trouble…"
When Ichibro arrived at the House, Pops was, indeed, causing trouble. 'Pops' was a bit of an oddity; his real name was Isshin Beerosaki and he was the oldest member of The House by far, at age 40-something. He was a pre-med student who had worked earlier in life, though no one had been able to pry exactly what he had been doing out of him as the usual social lubricants didn't work. Pops was in fact stone-sober and hadn't drank or partook in drugs in many years which made him very handy to have around when people took things a bit too far as he was a responsible adult, a designated driver and a nurse all in one! There was sadly three small problems: he was extremely intense about everything he did to the point of absurdity, he didn't actually live in House but just sorta hung out there, and he had two mid-teenage daughters he insisted on bringing along as "his assistants" who were, luckily, much more mature than their father.
"ICHIBROOOO" Pops yelled as Ichibro walked through the door. "Come on man, I need a partner for this game!"
Ichibro glanced at the TV Pops was sitting in front of, alongside two newer members of the House: Keggo and Brahtski. On screen was a popular racing game and with the full cans of beer laying around it was clear what the situation was.
"They are playing Drunk Driver" Yuzu, one of Pops' daughters explained as she was moving some towels from the laundry room to the cabinet. "And he needs you to drink for him."
"Aw, come on man! That doesn't work! The point is that it makes you a worse driver!' Brahtski exclaimed.
"Yeah, well," said Karin, Pops' other daughter, while also carrying freshly laundered clothes. "Pops can't actually GET any worse. Besides, it is either this or he starts doing those weird exercises instead of drinking and no one wants to see that…"
Pops grinned and showed off his abs, for what was likely the 12th time that day.
Ah, fuck it, thought Ichibro. "Ok, I'm in, but I also get to play!"
"Here you go, my dude!" said Brahtski, as she handed Ichibro the controller.
"I call Fungus!" Declared Keggo, his face bearing the most shit eating of grins.
A controller was passed and good times were had by all.
An hour or two passed and after crowning Keggo as the new Drunk Driver king, everyone of legal age was gathered around the Hookah, just relaxing and venting about their tough days.
"Man, my teacher wants a goddamn 10 page paper done by the end of the week!" Ichibro said. "I mean, I am a Communication major, I can't write!"
"Oh, I can teach you!" came a familiar bubbly voice. In walked Brohime, Ichibro's old friend from high school.
"Oh hey, Brohime, my best sorority gal-pal! I would love to have you teach me!"
An observant watcher could see Broihime die a little on the inside, but she quickly recovered.
"S-so, what does the paper have to be on? Anything fun?"
"Hardly! It has to be on…" Ichibro took out the syllabus for the class. "'Communicating between two social or economic classes and reaching a consensus', whatever the hell that means. I mean…" Ichibro took another hit from the hookah. "I don't really interact with anyone besides you guys and we are all roughly the same economic class and definitely the same social class, and I doubt me writing a paper about beating a bunch of legacy pledges in Extreme Beer Pong counts."
There was a collective groan from half the House. "Again, Ichibro? That shit is dangerous, man, you'll get yourself hurt one of these days!" Brahtski complained.
"You know, you could always write about those ghosts around town." Brohime offered. "They are a rather varied group! ...Or at least they sound like one based on your stories…"
"I am not writing about the ghosts again, do you remember what happened last time I did that?" Ichibro sighed. "I didn't even know it was possible to get so bad a grade on a paper it retroactively flunks a class from the previous semester."
"Well, if you need help with any of it, let me know! I would be happy to tutor you!" Brohime said while beaming her best smile.
"Well, if Ichibro doesn't take you up on the offer, you can tutor me any day, '' Brahtski said while winking at Brohime. All Brohime could do was stammer and blush.
That night, after the party had died down and everyone had gone home, Ichibro laid in his bed thinking about life, as one does. He had so many good friends, which he adored and welcomed with open arms. And he knew he was a cool dude, always helping others out; hell, he had even opened up the house he had inherited from a dead uncle to be turned into a chill frat-like house so people without a place to go or needed to escape a bad situation could crash in a warm spot while they got back on their feet, and with Chad around no one ever tried anything untowards. Pops provided rudimentary health care, his daughters helped people clean up; all in all Ichibro had created a really good place in a world that sucked.
But, like. Ichibro still felt like something was missing, that he was spinning his wheels and going nowhere. Was Communications really the major he wanted to go with? He might be (barely) an upperclassman but it wasn't too late to change trajectory, maybe he could study something with more job prospects like History-
Suddenly, there was a huge crash outside and Ichibro launched himself out of bed to check and see what had happened. He was surprised that no one else was checking the noise, and judging by the cuddle puddle that had developed around the Hookah and beer no one else had heard it, which could only mean one thing…
"Hey Ichibro" a deep gruff voice said. "What's gotten you into a tizzy?"
Ichibro turned to see that in fact, his earlier assessment was wrong; there was one other person up: Chad. Standing at 6'6" Chad was all muscle and was quite intimidating, but the secret was that his strongest muscle was his heart. He acted as a sort of body guard for everyone in the House and had scared off more than a few abusive exes that had tried to exact revenge on their prior partners.
Ichig greeted Chad with the traditional Bro Chin Incline. "You know, ghosty stuff my dude. I'll take care of it; anything happen after I went to bed?"
"Nah, not much. People kept drinking and smoking, the usual." Chad himself never partook, as he always wanted to be ready to help others out and didn't want to be impared; what a chad.
Ichibro ran out into the street and was surprised to see a woman in purple pajamas fighting what appeared to be the most uncool frat-bro ever, with a crust of spit and drool all over his face. Also he was like, as big as a car.
"Yo, total bummer dude!' The girl in purple sighed. "This lame-o should have gone down in like, a swing of my Zanpactoke but nah, broseph over here gotta be totally bogus!" She dodged another ponderous blow which sent shockwaves through the ground.
"Hey, you alright over there?" Ichibro called out. "Do you need help?"
"Whaaaaaat? You can see me?" the young woman exclaimed. "Totally gnarl-OOF" Apparently, the distraction of Inchibro and his amazing observation skills had distracted her long enough to not notice the giant man's haymaker that sent her flying.
Ichibro ran over to the downed woman. "Hey! You alright, still with me?"
"Totally bogus…" came her reply as she shook herself off. "You have to get out of here or the Shallow is gonna kill you, which would be totally lame!"
"'Shallow'?" Ichibro inquired. "You mean the frat giant over there?"
"Yeah, he is the remains of a spirit of an asshole partier who couldn't let go after he died so he sticks around, to bother and harass women and minorities; here, I have a chart that explains it all" the woman said as she started to pull out some cue cards from somewhere. "No time! You're hurt and I'm not, so run for it while I hold him off!" Ichibro grabbed the weapon the pajama'd lass had been carrying. "I took some broadsword fencing lessons when I was younger, this doesn't look too-" He stopped. "Is this a sword strapped to a bong."
"Nah, bro, it is more like a bong strapped to a sword! See, you put some good kush in this chamber and when you swing the sword, the smoke that comes out weakens the Shallow so it can be defeated more easily!" the woman said, rising shakily to her feet. "But there is no way you could possibly defeat the Shallow, you're not from the Broul Society and that is some dank herb, you'll never be able to withstand it, it'll you'll-"
As Ichibro gripped and hefted the Zanpactoke a great cloud of smoke enveloped him and to his surprise, he felt much stronger and lighter than before. He was even more surprised to realize that he was now wearing the same pajamas as the young woman. But the most surprising thing of all was the fact that his body was now laying on the ground.
"-die." The woman finished. "Bummer, man, I think my sword just killed you."