Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over 'Bleach' nor am I profiting from this.
A homophobic slur appears once toward the end. It is not censored - just a heads up.
"I love you," Shunsui says. "It is because I love you that I am instilling a new house rule which takes place immediately: paperwork is forbidden during meals and bed. It just makes you upset."
Juushiro grimaces and begins gathering the photos scattered around their table. A teeny baby lies immobile beneath tape, tubes, and wires. Its ribs protrude from beneath the pale skin, and its lips are frozen into a quiver.
Shunsui peeks into the living room where Toshiro paces back and forth. He pauses every few seconds, rises on his tiptoes, and searches some invisible horizon before resuming the pacing.
"I haven't read anything on his background yet," Juushiro says shakily. "I should've known better than to look at pictures."
It's not their first time going through graphic pictures. Shunsui could no longer count on their fingers and toes how many times grisly backstories and images brought them to tears, or near illness. Nobody could ever build an immunity to the stories, but Juushiro? His tender heart extended to every creature.
"I know it never gets any easier, love." Shunsui squeezes his shoulders. "I make our house rules for a reason. Now, have you eaten anything?"
Juushiro relinquishes his paperwork for dry toast and fresh tea. He peels the crusts off and rolls them into tight balls. He pops one into his mouth and chews too fast.
Renji won't be here until noon, and Kenpachi's known for being late to his appointments. But he still needs to do another deep clean on the house. Worse, Shunsui is giving him that warning look which typically means he can rest either in bed or on the couch.
"You're not cleaning," he announces. "Our house isn't some disaster zone. Well, our bathroom could use work."
"I am not the one leaving his towels everywhere." Juushiro chews on his lip. "I should've checked her for a fever. I realize she might've been overwhelmed and used illness as a defense. You know how I feel about people being confronted with faking illnesses, though."
"It's always difficult transitioning between homes, and her role as caretaker was being threatened. Feigning illness might've seemed like the easiest escape, or she might've been genuinely ill. Don't push the issue for now. Wait and see whether her behavior persists."
"Is my cleaning the house something we can comprise on?"
"I can clean the house while you watch. You can even boss me around and give me nicknames. How does Mister Handsome sound?"
"An employer should not be giving their employees pet names. I'll just watch."
His deep cleaning skills will never win a gold medal unless someone is solely judging the cooking space. Everything else would be deemed as passable with a recommendation he hires someone else or takes lessons. It achieves passable, though with a few minor frowns on Juushiro's part.
Izuru, Momo, and Toshiro's patience have worn thin. Their pacing slows with every car that passes by their house. A passing car causes their pacing to become frustrated sighing and pouts.
"Kenpachi is always late," he warns. "I've given him maps, GPS, and even suggested he do practice drives. Retsu even did a practice run with him and spent five hours trying to get home."
Juushiro rises from the couch with a small groan. "I could use some help preparing lunch. Is there anything special Renji likes?"
Coaxing them into the kitchen takes another, firmer reminder that Kenpachi is likely to arrive late. Shunsui waits until dishes begin rattling before he steps outside and checks his phone. His texting abilities are worse than his sense of direction, but it warns him: you got five minutes.
Five minutes stretches into ten minutes before his beat-up car rolls up with a squeal and whine. Kenpachi Zaraki: a brutish man with spiked hair, which somehow manages to maintain its shape despite brushing the car ceiling. His face is pulled down on one side by a silvery white scar. His roughness is supposedly enough to frighten some foster parents from ever answering their phones again, but the children enjoy him.
"Where are the other little terrors?" Kenpachi raises an eyebrow as he opens the backseat door. "I warned him to expect an ambush."
Renji reluctantly slithers from the backseat with his arms crossed over his chest. Someone has attempted combing his hair into a ponytail. His arms are raw and covered in bright red sores, which he has obviously been picking around and at.
"I've personally never liked Kenpachi's tattoos," he says. "I've tried selling him some ideas, but he always rejects them. I like yours, though."
Renji continues watching the ground, but his lips twitch into an almost smile. It remains even as Kenpachi gives him a careful shove forward.
"I'm going to call Retsu," he says. "Will you two be okay for a minute?"
Shunsui gives him an unconcerned wave and settles onto the ground. It doesn't persuade Renji to come any closer, though. His arms cross tighter and tighter over his chest.
"I bet those tattoos have a story," he says carefully. "Would you like to share it?"
"I don't want to," he mumbles. "I won't tell you."
"We won't make you tell anyone," he promises. "Is there anything you'd like to us to know?"
"I won't call you, dad." Renji shoves his hands into his armpits. "I'll never call you, dad."
Juushiro and Shunsui would never argue with that warning. In their dating and engagement time, during the conversations concerning what could go wrong in foster care, being known as something other than dad was not one.
"We don't have any strict rules regarding names; our first names are fine." Shunsui rises as Kenpachi approaches them. "Was she impressed that you made it?"
"I broke a record." He grins and pats Renji on the head. "How do you feel, kid?"
"I'm not a baby," he hisses and swats at his hand. "I feel fine."
"I have you on my caseload, right? Retsu says that she means you're my indirect child, and I am not arguing with her. Now, don't argue with me, and go inside."
Renji braces and wraps an arm around Kenpachi's leg as they practically barrel him down. Izuru searches for some unmarked skin that he can give a reassuring pat. Instead, he settles for giving his sloppy ponytail a gentle yank.
"Juushiro still needs help…" Izuru murmurs. "I can go back in there."
"I know my husband; Juushiro's relieved to have control of his kitchen after being forbidden from cleaning," he promises. "I'll go help him."
"Husband?" Renji curls his lip into a sneer. "You're a faggot?"
"Some people use that term." Shunsui takes a deep breath. "Juushiro prefers the terms homosexual or queer. Our household does not have many strict rules but using derogatory terms like that isn't nor will it ever be allowed. Is that understood?"
Renji drops his arm and backs away from his siblings. He takes another deep breath. It is a learned behavior, an ugly one which he and Juushiro might be able to undo.
Once he approaches and breaks through his anger, that is.