Ichigo woke up sore the day after his spar with Shunsui. The man seemed relaxed, but training brought out the sadist in him.
Still, Ichigo could not deny that he already felt far more comfortable with his zanpakuto's new form. The man was relentless, but Ichigo doubted he could find an equal in this world or his last when fighting with two swords.
He groaned as his body complained about the bright morning. Ichigo missed his family acutely, but he cherished the peaceful mornings his father's absence brought. He glanced at the clock and sighed again. He needed to get to the training grounds early today, but not this early.
He could let himself sleep in. It would be easy. He had no pressing obligations, no school, no crazy father drop kicking him by way of a morning greeting.
It would be easy, he knew, to just let himself fall asleep. Even avoiding making a decision would lead to that outcome. He could sleep, and no one would call him out on it.
He rose anyway, set his feet on the floor, and stretched. He had a lot to do.
###
He didn't find Rukia in the 13th division barracks, but he did find a third seat. Ichigo thought that naming the position third strongly implied there would only be one occupant, but maybe the proverbial seat was more extensive than he realized. Sentaro Kotsubake was friendly enough, though Ichigo would have preferred a quieter volume. The man was loud.
Still, Kotsubake helped Ichigo find Captain Ukitake and even promised to bring some tea, despite the captain's protests. It seemed that no one in soul society drank coffee.
Ichigo grimaced as he sat down and greeted the captain, his ears ringing still. Ukitake seemed nice, but Shunsui had appeared lazy, and Ichigo's shoulder was still complaining.
"Do you want some candy?"
"Umm..." Ichigo wavered, 'surely mom's lessons about taking candy from strangers didn't apply here, right? Still, it looks harmless enough. And the man seems eager to share.' "...Sure."
Ukitake smiled as he passed over a plate of strawberry daifuku, and Ichigo could only frown. Did he seriously have the treat on hand already? Still, living Karin and Yuzu had forced him to appreciate the confection: they had claimed it as a favorite for a long as they had known that Ichigo's name could also mean 'Strawberry.'
Despite how much he protested for his little sister's sake, Ichigo liked the sweet, so he gratefully took a bite.
Their enjoyment of the treat was interrupted by the sound of approaching arguments. Ichigo thought he recognized the louder of the two, though he wouldn't consider the other soft. Ukitake visibly grimaced as the noises careened towards their apparent destination.
"Is there some kind of emergency?"
Ukitake sighed, "...No."
"Should we try and escape?"
Ukitake looked longingly at the open window: the only door doing a poor job of blocking the sounds of an oncoming tribulation. Ichigo knew the look, he wore it often enough, and he wouldn't get a lecture for it this time. Hopefully.
He quickly stood up and grabbed the plate of strawberries. "Come on; we've only got a couple of seconds." Ukitake grinned mischievously as they promptly hid, quietly passing the plate back and forth on Ukitake's motioned demand.
The hurricane of screaming arrived shortly thereafter.
"CAPTAIN, I BROUGHT THE TEA!"
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU BROUGHT THE TEA? HE ASKED ME TO BRING IT."
"I COULD NEVER LET YOU DO THAT TO THE CAPTAIN; YOUR TEA IS HORRIBLE."
"HORRIBLE? I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW I'VE PRACTICED MAKING THE CAPTAIN'S TEA FOR A MONTH TO GET IT JUST THE WAY HE LIKES IT."
"A MONTH, THAT'S RIDICULOUS. EVERYONE KNOWS THAT YOU NEED AT LEAST A YEAR OF PRACTICE BEFORE YOU GET IT JUST RIGHT"
Ichigo reclaimed the daifuku and tuned out the vigorous discussion of the increasingly fantastic amount of practice each had undertaken in the effort of sucking up. He passed the plate back to the captain, who, for all the world, looked like this was a depressingly regular occurrence. Ichigo's attention returned when they discovered the captain was not, in fact, in the room witnessing the spectacle.
"WAIT, WHERE'S THE CAPTAIN!?"
"I DON'T KNOW, MAYBE—"
"OF COURSE YOU DON'T KNOW, YOU'RE AN…"
Ichigo heard a splash.
"DID YOU JUST THROW THE CAPTAIN'S TEA ON ME?"
"THE CAPTAIN WOULD WANT THAT TEA PUT TO A GOOD USE!"
Ichigo sighed at that point; he didn't think they would hear the sound. The situation was utterly absurd. What kind of subordinate drove their captain into hiding?
He recognized one of the voices; apparently, the noisy third seat from earlier was capable of even more remarkable feats of volume. The other screamer, though not nearly as loud, sounded feminine, young, and viciously angry.
Ichigo blithely tuned out the continued screams and taunts— beyond observing that these two could really get into it— before he belatedly noticed that things were quiet. Eerily so.
He risked a glance through the window, slower but mirroring the captain he was hiding with. They both seemed acutely aware that the eye of this hurricane would only last so long.
He recognized the goateed man on the left, incidentally covered in tea, as the loudmouth, which would make the petite blonde on the right the angry woman. They appeared to be locked in a battle of wills, each attempting to unlock hitherto unknown releases that would let them kill with a stare. Each tensed, on the cusp of violence, while they quite literally butted heads. It was impressive, logistically, since the man was so much taller than the woman; she was on her toes while he bent over her.
Something in the room shifted, and suddenly Ichigo felt like he was watching something private. They were still gazing at each other, but now the flying sparks seemed to take on a new hue. They stood on the verge of either fighting or tearing each other's clothes off, and neither seemed confident of which they would prefer. Either way, Ichigo thought it would be a frantic, violent struggle. One he would much rather not witness.
As if hearing an unheard signal, the two suddenly broke apart, each stepping away from the other before hurriedly leaving the room, the recently empty pot of tea forgotten.
Ichigo and Ukitake waited for a few minutes before they sedately climbed back through the window and took a seat. "Was that…" Ichigo gestured vaguely with his hands, "...normal?"
Ukitake seemed resigned at the question. "Yes. That was Sentaro and Kiyone, my third seats. They've been dancing around each other for a while now. I thought they would finally get to it this time, but they've never quite gotten to the point. It's starting to get quite obnoxious."
Ichigo could only nod. If that display was their usual behavior, then Ichigo could only shudder at the thought of enduring it for years on end.
"Still, as frustrating as it is, it is fun to see Shunsui lose out. He'll be devastated when I tell him they didn't seal the deal. He hates having to do his own paperwork, much less mine."
"Oh, did you bet on it?"
Ukitake shook his head. "Ichigo, they've been going at it, without getting to it, for the better part of a century. Everyone's bet on it, and, so far, everyone's lost. Talk to Nanao Ise if you want to buy into the pool. The stakes were getting silly twenty years ago. At this point, you might be able to get a house in the shinigami district if you actually win the damn thing."
###
Rukia was at a small practice field in the first district. It was a place where, according to Ukitake, she had trained with his old lieutenant in the past.
It was a serene place, a quiet field surrounded by a still forest where the world itself seemed held at bay. Ichigo quickly understood the appeal. For a girl who seemed so burdened by the weight of the world, a place apart must be a blessing.
Still, she did not look well. She had bags under her eyes and a tremble he had never seen before in her bearing.
"Kurosaki."
Ichigo stopped short. "Rukia. What's with the stiff manners?"
Rukia looked slightly perturbed, "I do not understand what you mean."
Ichigo stared at her. "Rukia, you slept in my closet for like, two months. You can keep calling me 'Ichigo.'"
He realized then, looking at her tense shoulds and downward gaze, that this was not the feisty woman whom he had met in the world of the living. This woman before him was the adopted Kuchiki princess. Ichigo took a deep breath: this was not the time to yell. "I think we should sit down. We're past due on a talk."
Rukia nodded, the motion almost accidental, and took a seat. As Ichigo collapsed on the grass, Rukia delicately lowered herself onto a nearby log. She barely seemed to move as Ichigo gathered his thoughts and refused to meet his eyes, instead staring at the grass below.
Ichigo noticed that while she was still, the knuckles of her clasped hands were white.
"Rukia… Are you alright?"
Ichigo's concern only increased when she trembled.
"Elder brother explained, in detail, the folly of my actions last May."
"Oh. The power transfer."
"Yes." Suddenly she bowed to Ichigo in an abject apology. "Ichigo, I have hurt you with my actions and my ignorance, and you have repaid me with selfless bravery. Please, I beg you, accept my humblest apologies."
"Rukia," Ichigo cut off any further self-recrimination, "I already know. I was gonna die in a couple of years because of the transfer. But," He took another moment to find the right words, "Rukia, That hollow had Karin, ya know. My not-so-sweet little sister. You know that I would do anything for my sisters. To lose part of my mortal life for their eternal soul…, Rukia, that's a bargain I would make every time."
Ichigo looked up at his petite friend. She seemed, well, less stiff, but her posture was far from relaxed.
"Ichigo, why did you risk your life to save me? Is your life so cheap that you would cast it aside?"
Ichigo could only sigh. "Rukia, when you saved my sister's life, I owed you. I owed a lot more when your power didn't come back. Who would I be If I turned my back on you then?"
"And now that you've paid that debt, what will you do?"
"I'll ask my friend, who was nearly assassinated by a megalomaniac narcissistic bastard, how she's feeling."
Rukia didn't respond immediately, but Ichigo would wait.
"I think I'm going to be alright, Ichigo. I'm trying to get strong enough for an officer's seat. Maybe next time, I will even be able to fight back."
Ichigo nodded; he sympathized with the desire for strength. "We could train together. The old man wants me to learn Sokatsui, and I'm pretty sure that's the one you used against Screamer." Zangetsu seemed gratified at the idea of more fighting.
Rukia smirked, but it was a small thing. "Does that mean you want me to teach you?"
"Sure. Kido first, then zanjutsu? I'm assuming you have some bokken."
Rukia nodded as she stood up. "Have you ever actually practiced zanjutsu without the immediate need to smite something, Ichigo?"
"Sure, I sparred with Shunsui yesterday." Ichigo left out that this was, in fact, the first and only time.
Rukia raised her eyebrows at that factoid. "Well, I don't know what all kinds of training you've done, but while your control is better, it's still terrible. It's going to take you a lot longer than a day to learn Kido."
"That's fine; we can meet again and keep practicing. Besides, some people say I have stubbornness issues. I'm sure I'll get it eventually."
As Rukia gave a light laugh, she pulled out her sketchbook and proceeded to describe the process of casting a kido with surprising chappy-less diagrams. Usually, Ichigo would be thankful not to parse out what sections were fact and what sections were attributable to 'artistic license,' but this was Rukia; she didn't do unornamented illustrations.
Only, now she did.
"So I have to use the chant to help manipulate the reiryoku, channel the appropriate amount of energy into it, and that's it? Why is Kido so hard then?"
Rukia seemed exasperated. "Ichigo, you sound like Renji. Kido, in part, is knowing the right spell for a given situation, but there's a lot more than saying a silly chant and pointing. The chant helps in the manipulation, but you still need to maintain the structure yourself, especially for something in the 30s like sokatsui. Higher-level spells are harder to control, during and after incantation, and may even need varying power levels through the incantation or include manipulations not covered by the chant. Then you get into Eishohaki, chantless casting, where the shinigami has to do the reiryoku manipulations themself. Trust me. You aren't ready for that; it takes a fine control you just don't have."
Ichigo nodded. He wasn't looking forward to saying the chants since they all sounded incredibly dumb, but speaking a chant and then throwing a fireball? That would be worth it.
The lesson finished when Ichigo, having memorized the chant, attempted to cast the sokatsui. Ichigo traditionally dumped his reiatsu into a getsuga and let Zangetsu sort out the details. Applying that strategy to Kido proved explosive as his energy overwhelmed and destabilized the partial construct.
Having risked his eyebrows once, Ichigo decided to start with a much more comfortable subject: swordplay.
Rukia looked surprised when Ichigo selected two bokkens, seemingly having not noticed the dual aspected Zanpakuto at his belt. Ichigo described, in broad strokes, what had happened, as he stretched his protesting muscles. She seemed surprised, but ultimately she had seen enough absurd things from the teenager to accept it with little fanfare.
The spar started normally enough; Ichigo was already far more comfortable with two swords than yesterday. Rukia took the first point, but after Ichigo found his rhythm, she struggled to take another until the last set. After three more rounds, Rukia asked Ichigo to use one sword to fight on equal terms.
Ichigo, who enjoyed the chance to fight someone who was not Shunsui, quickly agreed and set aside the old man's wooden tanto to wield Shiro Zangetsu's substitute. Ichigo was still unpracticed with two blades, but he was much more comfortable with one blade, to a degree that surpassed the advantage of a second blade to block and attack.
Ichigo grew concerned when Rukia's frustration mounted and turned to agitation, so he tried to hold back in the spar. Unfortunately, Rukia seemed to pick up on this, and it proved to be her last straw.
Rukia threw her bokken and practically stomped and screamed, "Ichigo, you bastard, don't hold back, I'm not weak!"
Ichigo cringed, somehow, in trying to spare Rukia's feeling; he'd managed to make an even bigger mess of things. He knew she probably wouldn't believe him if he denied the accusation, so he pivoted instead. "Rukia, you're still recovering from what Aizen did to you. Besides, you'll never beat me if you never practice."
"It's just…." She took a deep breath and clasped her hands. "I'm a Kuchiki. I should not complain."
Ichigo denied her, "Rukia, you're my friend. You're allowed to vent."
She sighed and sat down. "I want to school with Renji, Hinamori, and Kira. Hisagi was a few years above us."
Ichigo considered what they had in common, besides being Rukia's classmates. "Are all of them lieutenants?"
"Yeah, exactly. And here I am, adopted by the Kuchiki and trained by Sir Kaien, and I'm not even an officer. And then there's you. You've barely been a shinigami for a couple of months, and you beat my brother, a captain."
"Hey— don't say that— I still haven't cast a kido, like ever, And Yamamoto spent nearly two hours berating me for 'foolishly reckless training' and 'ignorantly grasping power beyond your comprehension.' I'm good at swinging my sword and trading blows, but I'm learning that there's a lot more to this shinigami business than that. Besides, if you won't teach me kido, I'll be more dangerous to my eyebrows than my enemies. I don't think I can pull off the hairless look quite like Ikkaku does,"
Rukia chuckled weakly but looked through teary eyes up at Ichigo. "Ichigo, I know I'm weak, and you almost died, but… we're still friends, right?"
Ichigo nodded immediately, "Always."
"Do you still want to practice with me next week?"
"Of course, midget."
Notes:
First, as always, thank you for reading.
Despite my best efforts, it looks like the once-a-week schedule was on the optimistic side. After this, I'm going to try once every two weeks, and see if that fits my life better.