Previous Chapter: A father-son talk gets Ichigo thinking.
Ichigo set off for school the next morning as a man on a mission. He'd completed his homework in a frenzy and even managed five hours of sleep before rising in time for a shower and quick breakfast. He'd often managed with much less, after all; it hadn't been so long that his body had forgotten how to function while low on energy.
His day at school was more productive than a usual Monday. Ichigo managed to appease his teachers by handing in the missed work first thing, and then he spent his lunch break actually talking to his school friends, catching up on their lives and just relaxing. Ichigo felt silly trying to describe it to himself, but somehow even the air felt electric that day, filled with possibilities. When Keigo mentioned that he and Mizuiro were planning on a seeing a movie over the weekend, and invited Ichigo along, Ichigo surprised himself as well as them by accepting. Mizuiro actually lowered his phone, pausing his frantic texting for a moment to appraise Ichigo with his eyes. Keigo just smiled and whacked Ichigo on the back. Much of Keigo's exuberance had faded since the war with Aizen, tempered by a maturity and quiet patience that still astonished Ichigo from time to time.
"Friday night, then?" Keigo asked hopefully.
Ichigo shook his head. "Can't, I promised Chad I'd go to his show." At Keigo's disappointed expression, Ichigo offered Saturday night instead. Mizuiro nodded at Keigo when he turned towards him, and Keigo swung back to Ichigo with a smile.
"Alright! Boys' night out!" Keigo grinned.
When the bell rang for the end of lunch and they parted ways, Ishida and Chad made a beeline for Ichigo, who looked at them with surprise. "What's up, guys?" he asked. Chad just gave him a thumbs up before turning away, but Ishida spoke.
"You're unusually – chirpy – today Kurosaki. Should I be concerned?"
Ichigo shook his head, amused. "You're worried about me? Is the sky falling, or are pigs flying?" he joked.
Ishida pushed his glasses further up his nose, using the reflection of the sun to make his expression disappear. He merely "hmmed" in response, before heading in.
Ichigo shook his head and followed.
After school, they all headed in different directions – as they were in their senior year, they mostly headed to club activities or part-time jobs rather than going straight home. Ichigo, however, was heading home, but only long enough to change out of his uniform and dump his bag. He wasn't sure why, but he always felt uncomfortable being in his uniform around Urahara.
In his room, he quickly changed into his favourite pair of jeans, but got a little stuck on which t-shirt to put with it. In the end he realised he was being stupid, and just grabbed the dark green. He refused to comb his hair on principle, and donned sneakers and his new leather jacket – a birthday gift from Isshin, surprisingly – before heading out.
It was just before four when he reached the Shoten. The afternoon sun was weak and Ichigo was glad he'd worn the jacket. He shivered, a little, and rapped sharply on the wooden entranceway. He didn't see the kids about for once – still at school, probably – and figured it was probably rude to just invite himself in.
After a few moments, Ichigo heard the noisy clatter as Urahara approached in his clogs. "Coming, coming!" he heard from inside, the familiar voice cheerful. Ichigo rolled his eyes.
"Well hurry it up then!" he replied, somewhat amused. There was a moment of silence and then, seemingly, a rush for the door. The screen was pushed aside.
"Ichigo?" said the geta-boushi, seemingly baffled. "Is something wrong?" he asked, sliding the screen wider.
Ichigo sighed, recognising that his father had been right after all. "Do I need a reason to visit you, geta-boushi?" he asked, meeting Urahara's eyes squarely. Urahara appeared flummoxed.
"Well – well no." he stammered, and paused wide-eyed when Ichigo shook his head with fake exasperation.
"Really, Urahara-san. You thought I only came to see you when I needed something. Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?"
Abruptly, Urahara recognised his own words bantered back at him, and the vulnerable, guarded expression faded into mirth. Ichigo was relieved, then surprised at his own relief, and frowned to cover.
Urahara, on the other hand, seemed completely recovered, and whipped out his fan to hide his growing smile. Ichigo could still see the wicked glint in his eyes however, and wasn't fooled.
"Well, Kurosaki-san! How sweet! An unexpected visit from you is always welcome – come in, come in! Have a seat and I'll make us some tea!"
Ichigo tried not to blush at being called 'sweet', but felt the heat rise in his face and knew he'd failed. He scowled heavily at the man in front of him, who was all sweetness and light, good humour thoroughly restored.
As he bustled round the kitchen, chattering away about the kids and Tessai, concocting a brew that would probably not resemble tea even in appearance, Ichigo leaned on the bench and watched, listening with one ear. He put aside a question for later, and accepted the sludge Urahara called tea, watching the other man slurp it down with obvious pleasure, and passing his own untouched mug across when Urahara obviously wanted more. He shrugged and smiled a little when Urahara asked if he was sure he didn't want any, and was certain he'd caught a little smirk from the other man when he offered. The bastard made it like sludge on purpose! Ichigo realised, but found himself only amused further by his antics.
However, Ichigo had to wonder why Urahara had seemed so miserable when he'd arrived – and why he'd perked up so quickly. Was it Ichigo's own arrival, or merely a coincidence? Perhaps Ichigo had imagined it altogether. It was a mystery that kept him quiet all through dinner that night, and for once, Isshin didn't pester him at all. Ichigo failed to notice.
A week passed, and then another. During the week Ichigo went to school and completed homework, and during the weekends he visited the Vizards or spent time with his friends. He also dropped by the shoten with increasing regularity.
Ichigo was remembering how good it was to actually feel normal, rather than pretend to be normal as he had been. It was strange for him to realise that he had not been moving on with his human life, as he'd thought, but denying his past, his friends and even himself. His shinigami self might be currently beyond his reach, but Zangetsu and the Hollow had been two sides of the same coin, and a part of his soul. He'd said his farewells to the merged form of Tensa Zangetsu as he'd learned the final Getsuga Tenshou, and he'd been utterly determined to defeat Aizen, even knowing the cost to himself.
Ichigo had never regretted his decision, never wasted his time wondering what if, but now, sparring regularly with the vizards, seeing Kisuke again, he couldn't help but wonder if he was the block between his powers and himself. After all, he mused one warm afternoon at the shoten, goat-face got his powers back eventually. There must be a way to speed up the process.
Ichigo was lying on his back on the floor with legs sprawled, arms behind his head as he squinted thoughtfully at the ceiling. Urahara was humming a popular song in accompaniment to the radio, and bustled back and forth between the rooms doing who-knew-what. Jinta and Ururu were helping Tessai with some no-doubt-dangerous work in another room, and Ichigo was free to think what he liked.
When the song ended and the humming stopped somewhere near him, Ichigo turned his head to focus on the shopkeeper, raising a brow in question when he found the man twirling his hat on one finger and positively beaming down at him.
"What on earth are you up to, Kisuke?" Ichigo asked, with what he felt was justifiable suspicion.
Kisuke laughed and continued to twirl the hat. "Considering you're clearly the one plotting something, Ichigo-san, shouldn't I be asking you that? And yet, you see, I don't ask!"
The man continued to smile, and Ichigo just snorted in response, turning back to the ceiling and closing his eyes, a small smile creeping onto his face without his knowledge or permission.
"There you go again!" Kisuke cried, melodramatically, and plopped his hat down over Ichigo's face. Ichigo spluttered and flailed, his curses muffled by the hat. By the time he managed to remove the hat, the other man was standing well out of reach, eyes glimmering with mirth over the top of his fan. "You must leave the plotting to those of us who are good at it, Kurosaki-san!" he chirped.
Ichigo spluttered, before muttering "what happened to calling me Ichigo?". As a comeback he knew it was weak, but he couldn't think of anything else now that his mind was occupied with the horrifying idea that Kisuke was plotting something. The man was always up to some mischief, of course, but to mention it at all implied it was going to be something big.
The other man's eyes widened, and Ichigo wondered why he suddenly looked so off-kilter. He slowly closed his fan, and opened his mouth as though to speak, before apparently deciding otherwise. Ichigo frowned and sat up, about to ask what was wrong, but before he could Kisuke stepped forward, reaching out to take back his hat from Ichigo's grasp.
The geta-boushi wasn't quite meeting his eyes, and Ichigo knew that he couldn't let this go. Something that had occurred in the last few minutes had clearly weirded Kisuke out, and Ichigo wanted to know what. So, when Kisuke reached for his hat, Ichigo took his chance. Kisuke took one end but Ichigo didn't let go of the other – instead he reached his free hand out to grasp the other man by the wrist.
He'd moved quickly, but not nearly so fast that Urahara Kisuke, of all people, wouldn't be able to dodge if he'd wished to, and he was now so clearly uncomfortable that Ichigo knew that couldn't be the case. The man was staring at Ichigo's hand wrapped around his own wrist, and only when Ichigo gently shook his arm did he manage to look away. Kisuke looked directly at Ichigo instead, and in that moment Ichigo saw in Kisuke's terrified, unshielded eyes an answer he didn't yet know the question to. Ichigo opened his mouth to ask something, he didn't know what, but the door opened to admit Tessai, and the moment broke.
Ichigo released the hat and Kisuke, although his hand lingered slightly on the other man's wrist, reluctant to let him go. Ichigo stared at his own hand, a little confused at that impulse. For his part, Kisuke straightened, resettled his hat and made a hasty exit out the door Tessai had just used.
Tessai handed Ichigo a phone, and for a moment he stared at it, confused. It was his own cell phone, and he must have left it in another room, he realised.
"It's for you," Tessai prompted, gaze inscrutable.
Ichigo hadn't even heard it ring. "Hello?" he asked, still off-kilter. His father was on the other end, and the man's complicated instructions for the food he wanted Ichigo to bring for dinner, punctuated by Yuzu's background corrections, soon restored Ichigo's balance.
Ichigo rose to his feet, needing to pace and gesture to have a conversation with Isshin over the phone. His raised voice, ordering his father to shut up and give the phone to Yuzu because he clearly didn't know what he was talking about, reached Urahara out in the hall.
He hadn't gone far, only escaping the room and leaning against the nearest wall to recover his equilibrium. Tessai gave him a knowing look as he returned the way he'd come, and Urahara ignored him, listening instead to the clearly aggravated voice of the one and only Kurosaki Ichigo, whilst safely out of sight – and reach.
Next Chapter: Ichigo runs into some familiar faces whilst out and about, and makes a new acquaintance.
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