I realize now what a bad idea it is for me to work on two stories in parallel! It's pretty darn difficult to shift gears from one to the other, especially with how angsty this one is compared to The Roommate (for now). This chapter is a little shorter than the previous one, but hopefully it doesn't disappoint.

Here goes...

One week. After one week, Renji would leave his new life behind and start over somewhere else, somewhere far away from Karakura. It was a deadline that Renji set for himself, both to minimize the probability of him running into Ichigo and to prevent himself from giving in to the urge to see Ichigo.

But before he left, there were a few things that he wanted to do. Most important of all was giving something back to the kind couple who had taken him in so graciously. He knew that Ukitake and his wife were not particularly needy or poor, but there were things that he could do, such as repainting the house and replacing some of the items in the house. Unohana could use a new blender - Renji knew how much Ukitake liked fresh fruit smoothies, and Ukitake could use a new television. These would take a good chunk out of his humble amount of savings, but it was the least he could do.

Using his injured hand as an excuse, he managed to coax Hanatarou into exchanging a shift with him early in the week so that he could run to the mall to buy the things on his shopping list.

In the months Renji had been in Karakura, he'd never gone to the mall before. It was, naturally, very small compared to the ones he was used to in his hometown, but a quick scan of the store directory told him that it had everything he needed.

Taking the escalator, Renji made his way to the home goods store. It didn't take him long to pick up Unohana's blender, mostly because he simply let the sales lady make the selection for him.

His second destination, the electronics store, was a lot more interesting. Still, he wasn't prepared for the unbelievably large array of options, even with his tight budget. Just the variations of features alone was enough to make him sag against the wall in the dismay.

Overloaded with information from the salesman, he grabbed a few brochures and asked for a moment alone to make his decision. Lugging the bag that held the blender with him, he planted himself in front of the rows of TV on display and slowly examined the ones that he could afford.

The store had clear glass walls, and the TVs were lined up neatly along the wall, and it was there, standing in front of the displays, that Renji saw them.

He was reading one of the brochures in his hands when a young couple entered his field of vision through the glass doors of the store right opposite of where he was. The girl was wearing a pair of low-rise jeans that hugged her curves at all the right places, along with a beige laced top that complemented her generous breasts. But it was the man that stole Renji's breath.

The first thing that caught his eye was the hair. It was an outrageous shade of orange, styled with messy bangs that hung over the man's forehead. It was longer at the back, ending just above the slope of those broad shoulders.

Renji had never pictured Ichigo with long hair before; while it was surprising, it was a good look for him. It made him look a little older, his face a little slimmer. The maroon V-neck sweater that he was wearing was a perfect fit for his slender, flat torso, and the rolled up sleeves exposed a pair of well toned forearms. Back straight and shoulders squared, he towered over Orihime, making her look even more petite than she already was.

Ichigo had grown up.

Renji looked on as Orihime turned to Ichigo and stood up on her tip toes to give him a peck on the lips. Ichigo laughed and wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to whisper into her ear. The girl playfully pushed him away and pouted. Renji saw her lips move but couldn't make out what she was saying, but whatever it was made Ichigo laugh harder. Then she passed him her handbag and gave him another kiss on his lips before walking further into the store.

Renji stood rooted on the spot, not wanting to intrude on their private moment yet unable to tear his eyes away. They looked just like any other new couple - loving and happy and oblivious to everything but each other. Even from a distance, Renji could see the contented smile on Ichigo's face as he slung his girlfriend's handbag over his shoulder.

Renji knew he should smile, but his lips refused to move. His eyes were beginning to sting. Fate was cruel indeed. He wanted the best for Ichigo, but he never wished for a front row seat to witness Ichigo's new love life.

Renji blew out a shaky breath and willed himself to calm down. He was being selfish, and he needed to stop. Wasn't this what he had told himself over the years, that all he wished for was that Ichigo would move on and live a normal life? Ichigo was happy, and that was all that mattered.

"Have you decided, sir?" a voice interrupted, shattering the moment and pulling Renji from his thoughts.

Renji blinked, realizing that he had already forgotten everything that he had read about the TVs in front of him. "Why don't you pick one for me," he said to the stunned salesman. As the man praised him for his wise decision, Renji finally turned away from the window.

The rest of the process was simple; after he provided the address and date of delivery, the cashier rung up his purchase. The set that the salesman selected for him was a little over his budget, but he couldn't bring himself to care anymore. He just wanted to leave.

Ichigo opened the door to his bedroom and flipped on the lights. He was so exhausted that it was all he could do to drag himself to his bed and collapse in it. Shopping was hard work, he realized with surprise. He had lost count of the number of stores they'd gone to. His arms ached from carrying so many paper bags, and his back ached from being on his feet almost the entire day. How Orihime could still prance around at the end of the day, he had no idea. He must be getting out of shape.

He hadn't worked out much since his return from America. The campus gym was free - or rather, it was already included in his fees, so he had taken full advantage of that. But now, he'd have to sign up for a gym membership, and he'd been too busy with his new job to do it. Not to mention, dating took up whatever time and energy he had left.

Deciding that it was too gross to sleep in his sweat, Ichigo peeled himself off the bed reluctantly and staggered over to the bathroom. Before he stepped in, he pulled his sweater over his head and flung it carelessly on the floor. Then, he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. With a few deft tugs, he was down to his boxers.

Here, he slowed down. He always did.

As if in a trance, he walked over to his full length mirror and stood before it. Slowly, he pulled the waistband over his hips and let the boxers slide down his thighs, exposing a small, tattoo on his prominent hip bone. He dragged his thumb over the design - a jagged lightning bolt - and rubbed it absently like he always did.

Over the years, it had become a ritual. In the beginning, his eyes would redden whenever he saw the tattoo, but now, touching it like this calmed him. This was a little piece of Renji, after all.

Yes, Renji - the first person he had ever truly loved in his life, who also happened to be dead for three years.

When he was first released from the hospital, he was numb to the world. He felt nothing about what Shuuhei did to him. After his first breakdown over Renji when Starrk told him about the redhead's death, he never spoke of it again. He went through days robotically, speaking only when he was spoken to. He slept alright, ate alright, but he just wasn't there.

And then Starrk introduced a friend to him. Dr. Hirako Shinji is a therapist, Starrk had said at the time. He can help you, Starrk said. Ichigo didn't protest because he didn't care. He couldn't feel anything, and nobody could help him.

But all it took was one hour with Dr. Hirako, and Ichigo crumbled like an imploded building. When the session ended, he was a wreck. He didn't know how the doctor did it, and still didn't. In the end, Dr. Hirako had turned out to be a valuable friend, supporting Ichigo as he patch up the pieces, bit by bit.

Everyone told him that he needed to let go. They said that it was unhealthy, that he should move on with his life. And Ichigo tried, he tried very hard. The only thing that worked, as he found out, was to throw all his energy into school. So, that was what he did, and he'd ended up graduating with two majors.

Still, his thoughts always went back to Renji whenever he was alone. One day, on an impulse, he walked into a tattoo parlor and came out with this. He never told anyone for fear that they would think that he had relapsed, and it became his little secret, one final little connection between him and Renji.

He had never been able to find out how Renji died. He knew that he had died from gunshot wounds, but that was it. He had tried asking - why did Shuuhei shoot him, how many times was he shot, was it an accident; but nobody was willing to tell him. He didn't know why he needed to know; what difference would it make? Renji was gone and that was that.

He knew he wasn't being rational, but it wasn't something he could control. He didn't have a switch in his head that he could conveniently flip. He had to admit, though, that it was getting better. Progress was slow, but time was a very good healer. He didn't think it would ever heal completely, but perhaps one day he wouldn't need to spend hours rubbing his hip like some creep.

Ichigo sighed as his fingers linger on that same spot. Sooner or later someone would see it, especially now that he was dating. Orihime was a sweet and innocent kind of girl, the furthest they had gone was french kissing and a little bit of fondling; it would be a while yet before he had to answer the inevitable inquiry into the significance of the little tattoo.

Truth be told, dating was the furthest thing in his mind when he first arrived back in Japan. But then he had met Orihime again - the first time after more than four years. He knew that she had always had a crush on him all throughout high school, and it touched him to see that the affection never went away. They were both single, he got along well with her; he didn't see why he shouldn't give them both a chance. Orihime was everything that he needed and wanted now. She was devoted to him, beautiful, bubbly, bringing a ray of sunshine and more into his life. His family loved her; his father especially, and Yuzu. She would be the perfect daughter-in-law.

Yet, that man at the cash register in the electronics store…

Ichigo scowled at his own reflection. He needed to pull himself together. He couldn't afford to suffer a breakdown every time he saw something that reminded him of the redhead. He wasn't single anymore; the time to wallow in the memory of someone else - someone dead - was over.

Finally dropping his boxers onto the floor, he kicked it aside and padded into the bathroom.

When his alarm shrieked right next to his ear, Ichigo slammed his palm onto his phone and groped blindly for the snooze button. A few tries later, the room fell blissfully silent once more, and he threw the covers over himself and snuggled deeper into the warmth of his bed. A few more seconds, he could afford a few more seconds.

The next thing he knew, his phone was screeching again, and he finally pulled himself upright. Head heavy with sleep, he dug the heels of his palms into his eyelids and rubbed furiously, as though doing that could make him more awake.

It didn't help the slightest bit, of course. But like it or not, it was time to get up. He had a long day ahead; midterms were coming up, and his students were beginning to get antsy and irritable under pressure.

Yawning loudly, Ichigo trudged to the sink to brush his teeth and wash his face. When he looked into the mirror, he winced; the sleepless night showed clearly on his face. He groaned and let his forehead fall forward and rest against the mirror. This was what he got for allowing his mind wander so far into the past.

He'd had trouble sleeping last night even though his body was dead tired. Lying on his back, he had closed his eyes and tried to let his mind drift off, but all he saw were images of the guy he saw at the mall. It was ridiculous; all he had seen was the man's back really. He just happened to catch a glimpse of the man as he surveyed the stores around him, having nothing better to do while he waited for Orihime to try on a dress that she liked. The man was wearing a beanie and an oversized jacket that covered everything that he could've used to identify Renji, yet he had felt a shock - something akin to a jolt of electricity - when he saw him. And just like that, a little spark of hope had taken root in his heart, and he just couldn't stop thinking about that stranger at the mall.

But of course he was just being stupid. Renji was dead.

After banging his head a few times on the mirror, he went through the rest of his morning routine in silence. He slipped on a pair of black slacks and white button-up shirt, then he stuffed a tie into his pocket to be worn later. A quick scan of his desk told him that his wallet and keys were likely still in the pair of jeans he wore yesterday, so he went over to the pile of discarded clothing and began to dig for them.

Ichigo muttered a surprised "eh?" when his digging brought out not just his wallet and keys, but also a pink and silver cellphone. Then he remembered - Orihime had asked him to hold on to her phone while she tried on some clothes. He must've forgotten to give it back to her. His lips curled into a half smile as he imagined his girlfriend's frantic expression when she finally realized that her phone wasn't with her. Knowing her scatterbrained personality, she probably hadn't realized it yet.

He slipped Orihime's phone into his briefcase. She had a noon shift at the ramen shop today, which was why he didn't give her a ride to work, but he could easily stop by on the way to school and drop the phone off for her. She would probably appreciate that.

The shop was still closed when Ichigo pulled up in front of it, but he knew that the owner would be there, so he got down anyway and walked up to the door. He gave it a tentative push, then, finding that it was unlocked, he let himself in.

"Hello?" he called out. "Tsukabishi-san?"

A muffled voice replied from the kitchen, then the tall, burly shopkeeper appeared between the curtains that hid the kitchen from the diners. The man's eyes widened in recognition. "Ichigo-kun!"

"Good morning!" Ichigo greeted. He fished Orihime's cell out of his briefcase and handed it over to Tessai. "She left it with me, can you please give it to her when she comes in?"

Tessai took the phone. "Of course," he said. "Would you like to have breakfast? I was just making my own…"

"Nah, I have to go," Ichigo replied, gesturing to his watch.

The shopkeeper nodded in understanding, and Ichigo turned to leave. Walking up to the wooden door, he reached out to pull the door open. But just as his fingers were about to touch the door, it flung open inwards, hitting him squarely in the face. With a yelp, he grabbed his nose and staggered backwards. He heard Tessai cry out in dismay, then someone grabbed his arm to keep him from falling.

"Sorry!" a voice said hastily.

Ichigo's heart skidded to a halt. Still holding his nose, he looked up and stared. His briefcase crashed to the floor.

To be continued...