Beep beep beep! Beep beep beep!
Shrill and persistent in the early hours of the morning, the irritant eventually penetrated into the nest of blankets that completely covered the teenager.
Ichigo's hand shot out of his cocoon of warmth to grab the offending alarm clock and pull it in with him. The muffled noise persisted in the darkened room for a few more moments, as Ichigo's soft curses filled the still morning air. Abruptly the noise cut off. A sigh emerged from the strangely-shaped lump on the bed and all was still for a moment before he threw off the covers and sat up.
As he put down his alarm and began his hunt for jeans and t-shirt, Ichigo grumbled to himself. Words such as 'pesky', 'shopkeeper' and 'pervert' were all audible as he pulled a sweater over his head, but they were half-hearted at best. As he left his room, gently shutting his door so as not to wake his sisters down the hall, he wondered idly to himself why he put up with so much from the man. He scratched idly at his stomach as he made his way to the bathroom to relieve himself and wash up, and then headed down the stairs, yawning widely as he reached the kitchen. He got a glass from the cupboard, and paused at the kitchen sink, glass unfilled as he stared out the window into the half-light. The sun wasn't even up, for heaven's sake!
Ichigo filled the glass to the brim and drank it slowly down, staring out contemplatively as birds began to chirp and the light slowly grew. He blinked when he reached the bottom of the glass, and set it down with a clink. He sighed again, and decided that thinking about Urahara was likely to achieve only a headache. After all, why think about the man when he was about to see him? He should instead enjoy his moments of peace. Resolve to not think firmly in stilled, Ichigo rummaged in the fridge until he found some bread and the end of the cheese, and wolfed it down without bothering with a plate. He finished, and brushed the crumbs off his sweater before heading for the door.
Once outside in the fresh morning air – this time he had deliberately left the coat; he wouldn't need it – Ichigo breathed deeply, filling his lungs. He held it a moment, before releasing it slowly, his control restored. Checking his watch, Ichigo swore – just how long had he been lost in his thoughts about that pervert? – and set off at a jog. He wouldn't put it past Urahara to withhold lunch for being late.
As he ran, the sun came up properly, and signs of life began to show in the neighbourhood. Kids taking out the trash, adults setting off for work, cats returning from their night out, sated on rat meat and adventure and the thrill of the hunt.
When he reached the Urahara Shoten, a little out of breath (was he getting out of shape?), he was warm enough to pull off his sweater as he passed Ururu and Jinta, already battling on the front step. They paused long enough to greet him – "Hello Ichi-san!" said one with a beam, whilst the other grunted – and Ichigo lifted one hand in response, in unconscious imitation of Chad. As he reached the door, it was thrown open from the inside, and there was Urahara-san, beaming and already kitted out for the day, complete with fluttering fan, striped hat and clogs.
"Morning, Ichiigoooo!" Urahara sang. Ichigo's eye twitched. He could almost see the little hearts.
Ichigo grunted again. "Morning, geta-boushi," he said, the old nick-name falling easily from his lips.
Urahara looked surprised for a moment, as though he'd expected Ichigo to still be upset with him. Ichigo pushed past him into the shop, and after a moment Urahara moved to follow, sharp eyes sweeping over the kids, who were shamelessly watching the interaction between he and Ichigo rather than work. Both kids flushed guiltily before making the appearance of work, but as Urahara slid the door shut behind him, he heard them begin to squabble again.
Urahara turned away with a smile, and found Ichigo dropping his sweater casually to the side, before turning to stare expectantly at Urahara. In that moment, Urahara realised that not only had Ichigo missed seeing Urahara and the others at the shop (otherwise he would surely have argued more!), but Urahara had also missed Ichigo. He cursed himself silently.
When did you grow so sentimental, old man? He asked himself, fluttering his fan to buy himself some space. His Benihime, ever-listening, laughed musically at him in response.
Ichigo tapped one foot impatiently against the floor.
"The hell, old man! You want me to work, or am I just getting free food?" Ichigo scowled belligerently at the other man, and Urahara realised in that moment that nothing had changed, just as everything had changed. Ichigo might not have his powers anymore, but he would always be Urahara's student, and there were few bonds stronger than that of sensei and student. It was, after all, perfectly normal for a master to notice the absence of a favoured student, and it was this thought that allowed Urahara to snap his fan shut and restore his beaming smile of before. He studiously ignored the laughter of his sword, which still hadn't stopped. After all, if she thought he was paying her attention, she would become insufferable. He didn't quite know what was so funny anyway.
He picked up the thread of the conversation. "Ah, Kurosaki-san! Who do you think you are talking to? Of course you're here to work, and work hard!" He laughed as Ichigo's scowl deepened. "After all, it would not do to be a freeloader!"
Ichigo rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I get it already! Work before food! So, where do I start?"
Hours later, Ichigo was covered in sweat and dust, and the storeroom had been completely emptied, the stock sorted and shelves and floor cleaned. All that remained was to put the stock back in place.
He'd been left alone for most of the morning – after Urahara had started the morning with his usual banter, he'd continued by setting up camp on a wooden crate next to Ichigo, a cup of tea in hand and the clear intention of watching Ichigo work. When Ichigo had realised what he was up to, he'd thrown the man out of his own storeroom, shouting that if he wasn't going to help, he could pester someone else, dammit! Urahara had chuckled happily and wandered off, causing Ichigo to sigh in relief. Much as he respected Urahara, the man never failed to drive him mad. How had he actually missed the man? It was beyond him.
He paused in reaching for the next box as he heard the distinctive clatter of Urahara's return and turned to face the door somewhat suspiciously. He didn't trust the man behind him for a heartbeat. Urahara didn't enter, though; he only paused in the open door to announce, "Lunch break!", before continuing down the hall, presumably in search of one of the other occupants of the house.
Ichigo straightened, stretching his back and neck, and letting them click back into proper alignment. He stared down at himself and headed first to the bathroom to clean up a little before heading through to the kitchen.
He found Tessai, Ururu and Jinta all sitting around the table, which wasn't much of a surprise. He nodded at the three before settling on a cushion opposite. Tessai nodded back and offered him tea as they waited for Urahara's return. Where had he gone, anyway? Ichigo wondered. He got his answer a moment later: raised voices from the hall caught the attention of all four already seated.
First came the distinctive clatter of Urahara's clogs, and following behind him were two voices – two familiar voices.
"Stupid baldy!" A girl screamed, and a dull thump was accompanied by a howl of pain from her male companion.
"Jesus, Hiyori! What crawled up your skirt?" Hirako Shinji asked, and Ichigo sat stunned for a moment, as everything changed and everything stayed the same, all at once.
Nothing ever really changes, does it? He asked himself, and then remembered with a pang that some things did indeed change, and the reply he was waiting on would never come. Zangetsu was gone.
His heart contracted, and sharp pain filled his chest for moment, before subsiding to a dull ache. He stared into his tea, hands tightly clenched around it, and subsequently missed the looks exchanged between Tessai and the kids.
Still bickering, the two entered the room, just as Urahara sat down on the cushion next to Ichigo. He started slightly; he'd been so distracted that he hadn't noticed the man approach – he didn't need reiatsu to hear Urahara, after all – and raised his gaze to meet another that was all-too knowing. Strangely, Ichigo didn't feel exposed; after all, he acknowledged ruefully, if there was anyone who understood him, it was this man. He felt the tightness lessen a little, and even quirked a rare, tiny smile as – still scrapping – Hiyori and Shinji sat on his other side, between Ichigo and Jinta.
"Hello you two," Ichigo managed, bolstered somehow by the strength of the man beside him. He didn't quite get how that worked, but he wasn't about to argue. He didn't have to look around to feel the approval emanating from Urahara, and the kids across the table took their elders' example and began to fight again.
Tessai was having none of it, though; he sat between them for a reason. He gently batted each behind the head with a massive hand, and they rocked forward to impact with the table. They sat up, rubbing their heads, and Shinji paused long enough to snicker before Urahara pointed out that he could just as easily do the same to he and Hiyori if they didn't act their age.
"I'm older than you, arsehole!" Shinji glowered, and Hiyori glared around at the table universally, before ignoring them all and turning to face Ichigo.
"Hey, strawberry!" she grinned in return, before elbowing Shinji in the side. Urahara only sighed, pulling his hat over his eyes as the bickering started up again.
Ichigo's "don't call me that!" was lost in the increasing volume from the two vizard.
"Greet him, dickhead!" Hiyori growled.
"He's right there, you dickhead!" Shinji responded, poking his tongue out at Hiyori. "He can actually hear you, you know!" He threw Ichigo his trademark wide grin, all teeth, as Hiyori screamed at him, two enraged to notice.
All of a sudden, it was just too much for Ichigo. He couldn't hold it in any longer. He felt rather than saw Urahara stiffen beside him, just before Ichigo collapsed. The room fell dead silent, awestruck eyes turning to him as he began to chuckle, then laugh, amusement warring with annoyance and a strange sort of nostalgia for times past but perhaps not out of reach. Eventually he ran out of air, and subsided to hiccups, trying to school his face back into the usual scowl.
"What?" he asked the room at large, unable to completely suppress his smile, amusement still glittering in his eyes. Silence greeted him, and he began to feel a little uncomfortable. He flushed a little, and coughed awkwardly into his hand.
Hiyori made a choked noise, eyes wide and disbelieving.
"What?" he repeated, his scowl starting to become natural again.
"Who knew?" she asked, and an expression of mischief began to crawl over Shinji's equally awestruck face, as though he knew where Hiyori was going with this. He probably did, Ichigo thought sourly; they were two of a kind after all.
"I do laugh from time to time, you know!" Ichigo grumbled, but was in too good a mood to truly sulk.
Shinji shook his head. "It's not that," he said, "or at least, not just that. It's just that you're actually attractive when you aren't scowling! Who knew?" he snickered, as Ichigo flushed more deeply than before and Hiyori elbowed Shinji again.
"Dickhead!" she screeched, "he won't do it again now that he knows we like it!" And the two dissolved into fighting again. Mortified, Ichigo could only stare at his hands, still clutching the tea tightly. He slowly released the cup. Beside him, Urahara had been decidedly quiet, and Ichigo couldn't bear to look at anyone.
"Thanks for the tea," he muttered in Tessai's direction, not waiting for a reply before disappearing back into the relative safety of the storeroom.
A/N: Okay, so apparently I didn't manage to get this one out of my system. This is definitely going to continue.