Author's Note: Here is the edited Chapter 6! I hope y'all enjoy this update! I do not own Bleach. A girl can only dream~

"It's been 3 days Ichigo. Come on, get out of the house."

Ichigo ripped open the front door. "Fuck off Yoruichi! It's none of your damn business!" He screamed at the person before slamming the door shut, catching a glimpse of her shocked face. He headed back to his bed.

It really was none of her fucking business. He has been holed up in his apartment since he came back home in a drunken stupor. Apparently when he went up to his room, he had caused such a ruckus that the neighbours all woke up from their sleep. Maybe that's how she knew he came back and since then, never left the room. He had no job anyway and there was no one out there that needed him.

No one needed him. Not anymore.

He was free.

Amazingly that night, he had actually made it into his house and inside his bedroom in fact. On the bed, which was something uncommon for Ichigo. He had never comfortably woken up from a drunken sleep. Well, there was that one time at that dude's house. Ichigo breathed slowly. His stomach was rumbling and he felt so weak. It's indeed been three days he had actually left the house and that means it's been 3 days since he ate or drank something other than alcohol. He was still in some ranky old t-shirt and jeans since that day.

He woke up from the bed and tried to stand up. He immediately collapsed to the ground. Since realising that he had not eaten for multiple days, his body decides that he really has no energy and should just remain weak and useless until food is delivered to him. His body was betraying him.

Ichigo grumbled and reached for the conveniently vibrating phone. He already knew who was calling.

"Hey. I'm sorry. I'm hungry and I need food." Ichigo said to Yoruichi and immediately hung up. He felt really guilty but there was only one person he could really rely on. It was her.

It was really sad that he only had one important person in his life currently. Not even that important. It was just someone he knew and liked. It was sad that he had no one to live for. Not even for himself. He had attempted suicide before but every single time, someone had to somehow save him. He really wanted to die but it was as if someone up there didn't want him to.

Buzz.

"Hey Ichi, open the door!" the familiar female voice reverberated into the room.

This time, he tried to slowly stand up instead of immediately doing so like any normal human can. He treaded towards the door and opened it.

Chinese food. It was heaven on his tongue and in his stomach. They were on the floor of his bedroom. He no longer gave a shit about where they were. Yoruichi had decided that she also wanted to have her lunch. And she bet that he would appreciate her presence. So here they were. On the wooden floor. Leaning on the bed, looking out the large window. Eating chow mien and dumplings, or pot-stickers, whatever you call it.

"You should get your life back together you know," Yoruichi just muttered, not even looking at him.

"You're only 24. Got a long way ahead. I'm just saying," Ichigo just hmm-ed her. Shoving noodles into his mouth. It was pretty random she said that. They were just talking about the Chinese restaurant changing their recipes.

Ichigo really wanted to just walk away from the conversation but the heavenly dumplings kept him there.

"My life is kind of together, Yoruichi. I got a job and a place, you know," he said, trying to prove a point while eating a dumpling was pretty hard but he did, convincingly so.

"Yeahhh, no. You had a job, had. This place is mine. And NO, Ichigo you do not have your life together. Just so you know, being never sober isn't a good example of a healthy 24-year-old man." Yoruichi told him, pointing her chopsticks at him.

"You can stop this punishing-yourself thing."

The last few words hit him the worst. He looked down at his food. Playing with the long strands of cooked noodles. He never considered his lifestyle a punishment. He never considered anything in his life, period.

They finished lunch in silence, making sure to leave no leftovers. Ichigo quietly put the empty containers into the plastic bag that they came in from and gave it to Yoruichi to dispose it on her way out. He never said anything to her after the conversation. He had nothing to say but he did thank her when she left.

He thought about what she said even after she left. He always thought that if he left the house, his family would not be burdened by his presence. He knew that they would blame him every single day for the death of their beloved mother and wife. If he left the house, maybe they would forget him and continue with their lives. Ichigo always though that leaving the house, they would be much happier, in fact. The happiest they could be after the loss.

He never knew if that were true.

But he needed to leave. He needed to get away from the house that she built, to rid himself of the guilt.

He never did consider what he would do afterwards. Leaving the house meant leaving the neighbourhood... Quitting school, separating from his friends, to somewhere far far away. And that was what he did.

Whenever he was in this moment of intense thought, Ichigo would just wander around. He never was able to stay at home and think, it got him all jittery and shit. So he would find himself in odd places, similar to whenever he wakes up from drunken sleep. However, he would gain conscious in better places then when he drunk. He would go to the park or the convenience stores during these walks. One time, he ended up on the swing at the local park. Just staring at the night sky.

Well, now, he was inside a random apartment building. Though it wasn't so random as it seems, he's been here before. Multiple times. It was a pretty neat apartment building. Much better than the one Yoruichi owns. He was on the second floor, outside Apartment 06.

He was outside that man's door. The man with the blue hair. His twice-saviour.

Ichigo just stood outside. Facing the piece of wood that he once slammed open and shut. On the floor, he saw the burnt stain of the cigarette he once threw down. The smell of the house was familiar despite being inside only twice. It smelt like smoke, duh, and pine trees. Like those car colognes that hang on the front mirror.

The door suddenly opened wide. Next thing Ichigo knows, he was facing the said man. Both having the same shocked expressions.

"Uh…"