-Gah! I almost forgot to change the opening author's note! How silly of me. Anyway, I don't have much to say up here, other than I'm still not looking for more prompts yet, so please hold off on those. Thanks to xTKx for this set; I went to town with them, made obvious by the fact that this chapter is more than seven thousand words long. Written all in one day, no less! Anyway, more notes on the drabbles down on the bottom, and I'll see you tomorrow, biffles.

1: Operation

Ichigo waited with a twisting stomach outside Toshiro's designated room in the 4th. His hands shook as they were folded in front of him, his bandaged fingers trembling. Though whether it was from tire, pain, or nerves, he couldn't tell. He didn't care; none of the options mattered. All that mattered was that he sat there on a chair outside Toshiro's room as Captain Unohana worked to save his dwindling life. He kept seeing flashes of the torn and wounded arm, kept hearing that rattling breath in his ears as it slowed to an almost inaudible sigh.

He was making himself even more sick just thinking about it, but couldn't help it. Toshiro had been in much worse shape than he'd realized, which Unohana had responded to immediately as she always did. But the last thing he had expected as he sat out in the hallway waiting for Unohana to finish her numerous surgeries on his floundering spouse was for Byakuya Kuchiki to come and comfort him.

Byakuya, who wasn't looking at all well himself, had walked with pained slowness towards his fellow Captain. Ichigo had hardly noticed him until he was but a short distance away, but had greeted the other with a grim formality. Byakuya had taken the chair next to Ichigo with a stiff sigh, surprising the other.

"I owe you an apology," his deep voice rumbled, and Ichigo looked at him in surprise. What on earth Byakuya Kuchiki would feel the need to apologize to him for regardless of his pride was beyond him.

"What for?" he'd asked incredulously.

The head of the Kuchiki house had sighed stiffly, crossing his arms over his bandaged stomach. "Your husband was wounded on my account," he said darkly, successfully silencing Ichigo. "It is my responsibility to take blame for his current injuries."

Ichigo was still not quite following what the other meant by those words. "I don't understand," he said, sitting up a little bit. The bandaging tugged at his own wounds, but he resisted the urge to slouch back down. "Byakuya, what do you mean?"

"Captain Hitsugaya came to my aid when the enemies I faced proved overpowering," Byakuya said stiffly, apparently having an atrocious time admitting to such a humbling defeat. But Ichigo remained silent, knowing that the other's pride was hurt enough, and that compounding that would not improve matters between them. "I was wounded rather considerably by that time, as was Captain Hitsugaya, but in spite of having his own two enemies to face, he stepped in and took on mine as well." A distant look entered Byakuya's gray eyes. "He instructed me to get away from the scene; to find Renji and have him assist in getting me to Captain Unohana as soon as I could." A low flicker of shame passed through his eyes, and Ichigo could feel the regret rolling off the other Captain. "I should not have gone as he instructed." Byakuya's chin bowed slightly in shame. "Were it not for my fleeing, his condition would have likely not degraded to such a severe state."

"S'not your fault, Byakuya," Ichigo replied, and the dark haired Captain looked at him rather sharply. Apparently the quick response from the orange haired Captain had not been what Byakuya was anticipating. "Even if it was, I'd forgive you."

"Kurosaki…"

"I can understand why you feel responsible, Byakuya," Ichigo said, pressing his folded hands together. "I feel responsible too, for leaving him when I should have stuck by him. But that doesn't change that battle is battle, and war is war. No matter what happens, the outcome can't be pinned to one person's back, nor can the blame." Ichigo sighed, his head too bowing. "I might be worried about him, I might be scared shitless that he won't make it, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to let you take the blame for something that isn't your fault."

They sat in silence for a few moments after that, surprisingly peaceable. After that short time, Byakuya stood and made to leave. It didn't surprise Ichigo; Byakuya wasn't the type to argue or discuss after things like that were said. But before he was out of earshot, he did turn, and spoke to Ichigo one more time before disappearing back to his own room.

"Take heart, Ichigo Kurosaki, that if I survived this battle, and your husband is stronger than I, then he too shall survive."

2: Unicorn

"Toshiro," Ichigo breathed, holding onto the smaller Captain's shoulder as they walked quietly together through the far out forests beyond Rukongai. He pointed to a figure slowly drawing out of the forest towards them, his eyes wide with wonder. "What is that?"

"It's a Kirin, Ichigo," Toshiro breathed back, watching the creature stride forward with a graceful, lilting stride. The creature's glorious gold mane flicked in hushed movement against its green scaled neck, the proud horn mounted on its head shining polished by age in the light slanting through the trees.

When it had drawn within two feet of its two-man audience, it stopped, looking at them with an unveiled intelligence, before it bowed its head, walking on.

3: Out of Bounds

Ichigo had to admit that doing long distance reconnaissance work for the Soul Society was probably too fun. It probably wasn't intended to be, knowing Yamamoto, but Ichigo just couldn't ever help himself. Especially with Toshiro in tow. The two of them just couldn't help having fun with each other; they were made to do so, and going on an unofficial "vacation" gave them a splendid excuse to.

Especially because, when out of the bounds of the Soul Society's limited access to the World of the Living, they could pretty much do whatever they damn well pleased.

So, on one particular mission that involved going to investigate some cohesion issues that Urahara had reported down in the Everglades, he and Toshiro had taken it upon themselves to take a night off. Which they promptly spent on a lively riverboat named Proud Mary, that helped them spend their night gyrating to the swinging jazz without worry or care.

4: Poem

Ichigo had found, one day whilst rifling through Toshiro's massive bookshelves, a small leather-bound journal. The brown cover was loved to a pale brown across the spine, and the pages were curled at the edges from being turned so much. Intrigued, he'd taken the journal form Toshiro's office back home one night with the intent to stay up and read it after Toshiro had gone to bed. The only issue was that his curiosity got to him far before he could even get to bed, and he ended up reading it almost the entire way home.

Because what he'd found was in fact a book of poetry, that Toshiro had apparently written throughout the years of his life. Ichigo had been more than pleased to find it, knowing that the other was far more artistic than everyone else thought. Some of the poems saddened him, some confused, and others still warmed his heart. By the time he had arrived home to where Toshiro was waiting, he'd already read through almost a third of the poems tucked away within the tiny book, scribbled between various doodling and miscellaneous notes.

Upon seeing that Ichigo had the journal, Toshiro seemed surprised. Ichigo supposed that the smaller Captain had probably forgotten about it, or hadn't written in it for some time. The question of "Where on earth did you find that?" assured Ichigo's impressions.

"In your office," he'd replied, closing the small journal to look at Toshiro with interest. "I didn't know you wrote such good poetry, Toshiro. I'm very jealous."

Toshiro shook his head, and the serious expression on his face made Ichigo pause for a moment as the other approached, hand reaching out in asking. "They're not poems," he said, his tone still too serious for Ichigo not to be worried. But he handed the book over anyway.

"Then what are they, Toshiro?" he said, not letting go of his half of the book. Toshiro had looked up at him, curious. Apparently he couldn't understand the rather worried tone in Ichigo's voice. It relaxed Ichigo a bit, to realize that Toshiro probably wasn't as serious as he had sounded.

"They're songs," his spouse explained, and with a start he released his end of the journal, leaving Toshiro to recollect it for himself. But the white haired man just flipped open to a page before looking back up to his very surprised husband. "Shall I sing you one?"

5: Loading

"Holy fuck, Kurosaki," Mutton Chops growled over his cigar, and Ichigo watched on in amusement as the burly man unloaded the crate that had arrived at the academy earlier that day. He'd been in contact with Urahara, who had been in contact with Yoruichi, who had been in contact with Soi Fon, who had been in contact with Yamamoto, and had arranged for an extended stay in the World of the Living for Toshiro. His presence in investigating this new matter was deemed pertinent enough to requisite his staying, much to Ichigo's thanks and glee. But, seeing as the other was indeed staying, it was rather necessary that he have a gigai so that his proper presence could be located and observed.

The fun part had been trying to pass off what looked to be a very dead body as something that was okay to be shipped transcontinental. Urahara had eventually finagled in that the body was a wax doll, being sent to an art exhibit at the school. The surprisingly farfetched excuse had worked, and sure enough, the body had arrived not a week later due to expedited shipping.

Which, Ichigo was sure, Urahara was going to bill him for later. But, for the time being, he was too amused watching Mutton Chops, whose name he had finally now remembered as being Logan, walked with the crate under one arm down towards the underground medical facility that Xavier had shown him earlier.

As if on cue, said bald man was waiting for them as they entered the underground facility, trailing after Logan as Ichigo was, seeming rather excited.

"I'm going to admit, that I am rather interested to see this equipment you've been talking about," Xavier said, and Ichigo almost laughed. "Hopefully we'll finally be able to meet this friend of yours who has been following you around."

Ichigo shrugged, wondering where exactly Toshiro had run off to. It was rather pertinent that he be there to inhabit the gigai they'd expended so much trouble in getting. But they were promptly interrupted by a rather surprised shout coming from the medical facility they were about to enter, and both he and Xavier burst into the room, wondering what on earth had transpired in the few paces Logan had gotten ahead of them.

As it turned out, the other man had taken the liberty of attempting to unload the "equipment" in the box. Which Ichigo had failed to tell them about, considering he wasn't entirely sure how to translate the entire fiasco-like story. Apparently he should have at least tried, because Mutton Chops looked pale as a ghost, looking in at what very much indeed look like dead body.

Xavier also seemed surprised, and they both looked at him with skeptical interest. "What kind of shit show you running, hear, bub?" Mutton Chops asked accusingly, pointing down at the uninhabited gigai rather accusingly.

"One that needs to improve their packaging methods," a genteel voice said, and Ichigo nearly burst out laughing as Logan all but jumped three feet in the air as the once lifeless body pulled itself out of the crate. Toshiro dusted the fake body off, rolling his shoulders rather stiffly. "You'd think they'd take better care of fragile goods. It feels like they sent this thing through a tumbler before it got here."

Ichigo was rather surprised himself, considering how fluent Toshiro seemed to be in English. But, when one lived for eons longer than normal, he figured he had more time to spend on learning such things.

Logan was still spluttering obscenities. "The hell is all this? One second I've got a dead body in a box, and the next thing you know it's like someone flicked the on switch."

"There is no on switch," Toshiro growled back just as grumpily. "The only thing that's changed is the fact that now there's something occupying the body. There can just as easily be nothing occupying the body, you damn bearded ruffian."

"Oi, what right do you have to come out calling names," Mutton Chops growled, both of them completely ignorant to how amused both Ichigo and Xavier were as spectators.

"Just because you couldn't see me doesn't mean that I haven't been here for the past seven days, moron," Toshiro growled, the temperature in the lab dropping. "And I don't take kindly to all the insults you've been throwing at my compatriot, so I thought I'd return the favor, since he's obviously too polite to do so."

Logan snorted darkly. "So you're admitting to being impolite little brat?"

"I would be careful if I were you, Logan," Xavier warned, leaning his chin against his hand as he watched, rapt as if watching a baseball game. "You're getting into a verbal joust with a dragon. I can almost guarantee his forked tongue is going to cut you."

Logan merely grumbled, before Toshiro grumbled out one last rebuttal. "マトンチョップ."

6: Why

"You should always be careful when you find yourself blessed," Aizen's cool voice intoned, and Ichigo was left trembling with rage and fear as the twisted soul hauled Toshiro's limp body up by his bloodied haori. "Because it's likely that if you don't know why you've been blessed, the blessing won't last long."

7: Never

Ichigo held Toshiro by his wrists, his grip on the other man painfully tight. "Don't you ever say that again," he growled out through clenched teeth and tear pricked eyes, his hands shaking from the force of his own grip. "Please, don't ever say that again."

8: Cellar Door

Ichigo hadn't even known their house had a cellar until he found the door to it one day whilst wandering about their yard. And he'd only found it because he'd caught Toshiro coming out of it, covered in grime and dust but looking generally pleased with himself.

"Where the hell were you just now?" he'd asked curiously, licking his thumb and rubbing a smear of sludge off Toshiro's cheek.

"Working on our training room," Toshiro had answered.

"Training room?"

"Yes. I had Urahara explain his methods for building his, and thought that since you and I would be in need of one, that I might as well build one for us."

9: Hotel

"Oh ho," Renji drawled, his tattooed brows wiggling. "Staying alone with Captain Hitsugaya at a hotel for a night? Aren't you just Mr. Romantic."

"I would gladly accept that title, Renji, if it wasn't because we're both attending a Shakespearian Literature Fair at said hotel."

10: Explain

When Ichigo awoke, it was to a vague memory of an excruciating amount of pain. His eyes had snapped open, and he'd sat bolt upright, amazed that his body didn't hurt in the slightest. He looked down at himself, observing the strangely familiar shihakusho with wondering eyes. How had he gotten there? Where was "there"? He glanced around what appeared to be the small, old fashioned Japanese house, his auburn eyes finally landing on the two other people that were in the house with him.

There was an old woman and a young man sitting in front of a small fire that was warming some very tantalizing smelling tea. The old woman was tiny, her gray hair tied up in a neat bun as her twinkling eyes smiled at him from across the room. Clad in a simple, twilight purple hakama, she immediately made him feel welcome, like he hadn't a care in the world, even though he was sure he probably did.

The young man, however, gave him a completely different impression. He was clad in a black shihakusho similar to the one he himself was wearing, but had the accent of a proud, pristine haori hanging over his narrow shoulders. A sword lay on the floor by his side, but he seemed to have no intention of touching it, which comforted him slightly. The young man's snowy hair sat in an unruly fashion atop his head, his eyes hidden by closed lids and pristine white lashes. There was a quiet authority that hung about him like a fine mist, but in spite of that, and his obviously potent spiritual presence, Ichigo had no fear of him. He seemed familiar somehow, like an old friend he'd forgotten.

When the young man's eyes opened and looked over at him, he couldn't help that compounding feeling. The teal eyes looked out at him softly, welcomingly. He felt like those eyes were a warm ocean, washing around him in gentle waves. He knew those eyes.

But he could not remember from where.

"It's good to see you've woken up," the young man said, his voice seemingly strangely quiet to his ears. It was like he was used to the younger man speaking in a different way, as if the voice he was speaking in, though also familiar, wasn't his usual tone. "How much are you able to remember?"

Ichigo looked at him curiously, wondering what he meant by that. But the more he began to try and think, the more he realized that he couldn't remember much at all. He glanced around the house, finding his own sword leaning against the wall a short distance away. He sighed with relief, at least sill able to remember Zangetsu's voice as it spoke calmingly in the back of his mind. "I know my name, and the name of my sword." He turned back the white haired young man, a thought striking him as he thought. "And I know you're a Captain. Of the… 13 Court Guard Squads. Which means…" he paused, the cogs in his mind suddenly turning with information. "We must be in the Soul Society." He looked the young man for affirmation, but every emotion the young man had was hidden behind a glassy veil that had settled over his eyes.

He knew the young man was listening, but was not going to let him in that easily.

"Does this mean that I died?" he asked quietly, not sure he wanted to remember exactly how he died, but very much wanting to know if his conclusions up until that point were at least correct.

They were.

"Yes, unfortunately," the young Captain stated, his tone almost chillingly even. "I'm not going to try to explain everything to you now; it would only confuse you. That, and I'm sure that you're going to start remembering everything over the next couple of days, so there's no need to compound your memory." As Ichigo looked into those teal eyes he realized something. That even though they were masterfully guarded, there was still a throbbing, undeniable hurt hidden in them. It made Ichigo sad, and almost angry to know that it was probably his own fault. This man was probably someone who knew him, and not being remembered would be a very crushing blow indeed.

"I'll try to remember," he pleaded, trying to get that hurt in the younger man's eyes to go away. It didn't, and he was left hurting himself under his own inability to make that pain go away.

The young man shook his snowy head, standing slowly and gathering up his sword. He slung it over his shoulder, the green sash tucked under one arm. "Don't strain yourself," he assured, but Ichigo just couldn't let that pain linger there, couldn't let it continue to get to him as the feeling sank like frost into his feet. "You're welcome to say here until you're feeling better, or until you remember a little more. Granny will take care of you."

When the young man made to leave, something that very much felt like his heart jumped up into Ichigo's throat. "Wait," he said, scrambling up unsteadily. His body felt like lead, and his muscles strangely unsure of what they were doing. "Where are you going?"

"I'm headed back to the Seireitei," he said over his narrow shoulder, only turning when Ichigo tried to take a wobbly step after him. He only turned halfway, a smile just as tragic as his eyes pulling as his pale lips. "Everyone else will be worried. I have to let them know that you'll be alright. Don't worry; someone will always be in contact with you so that when you feel you've recovered enough you can come back into the city."

"Someone?" Ichigo repeated numbly, before tumbling forward as the young Captain turned to leave yet again. He felt just about to fall when a cold, firm hand caught his arm, steadying him as he recollected himself on his own feet. He looked up at those blue eyes, hating that if anything, he could see the bleeding hurt in them intensify. "I don't want someone," he said sternly, his hand grasping onto the young man's arm tightening its grip. "I want you to be here."

That wavering smile was back, and Ichigo's heart was breaking. He was drowning, so lost in this horrible empty void of not knowing that he felt like he was going to wash away at any moment. There was only that comforting hand holding him up that kept him from going under. "That may be," the smaller man said, apparently hoping that broken smile would comfort him. "But until you know any sort of reason as to why you want me here, there is little point in it being me. It could be one of many different people that you would want here, that would want to be here for you."

"Point?" he whispered, feeling the word dry his mouth even by saying it. The white haired Captain made to move away, his little hand pulling away from Ichigo's shock-slackened grip. Panic flooded through him as the smaller man took his first step away, and he reached out with both arms to catch him before he slipped out of his grasp.

"Reason?" he whispered again, feeling with dread how the other man was trembling beneath his fingers. He held the Captain by his biceps at arm's length, but he could tell that the younger man didn't want to be there. He didn't want to be watching Ichigo flounder. But there was something in him that Ichigo saw that refused to leave him, so long as he was needed. As long as he had a point in staying, a reason to, he would.

Realizing that, Ichigo began speaking again. "There is a point." He spoke hurriedly, feeling his panicked tears prick at his eyes at the continued thought of not having given the other man a reason to stay around. "There is a reason, there is! I know there is, I know there is!" His grip was so tight on the other's black sleeves that he was sure he was going to tear them, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "God damn it, Toshiro, there is a reason!" His arms pulled the other forward, burying his face in the crook of Toshiro's neck, his tears wetting the previously pristine haori.

For what felt to be hours he sat there, babbling through sobs against Toshiro's shoulder. His own hands were shaking as he held onto the smaller man in a white-knuckled grip, his body a contradicting mix of relieved and sick. He was relieved because he'd remembered; there was a reason why he wanted Toshiro to stay, there was a reason he'd seemed so familiar, there was a reason why he'd not wanted to hurt the other so.

But he was sick, oh so sick with himself, for having ever forgotten in the first place. He felt wretched and ugly as every inch of his insides twisted at having forgotten. How cruel he'd been, how horrid, at having forgotten. And even if it had been due to circumstances beyond his control, the effect was the same. The exact disgusting same as having gutted the one person he loved with a poisoned knife.

But that name, that beautiful name. It falling from his lips countless times was the only medicine he was willing to give himself, as he apologized and wept for the wrong he had committed. The wrong that didn't deserve the soothing provided by the sweet nothings that Toshiro was whispering in his hear, the wrong that didn't earn the right to have those angelic hands rub gentleness and security into his shoulders.

But that was something he'd always known about Toshiro; that his love was beyond explanation, and his grace absolute.

11: Enclose

Trying to contain Toshiro when he was angry was a very bad idea. Ichigo knew this, from years of having observed people trying to do it and failing miserably. But he found that no matter how much he tried to dissuade his captors from shutting his angry spouse in, they refused to heed his warnings.

Thus, and this came as no surprise to him, within the span of minutes the locked room they'd attempted to keep him in had been razed, Hyorinmaru's furious roars echoing throughout the building as Toshiro made to retrieve Ichigo, before getting the both of them out of there.

12: Orange

"These things are probably the best thing ever," Ichigo said, peeling another segment of sweet flesh off the dwindling remains of the Clementine orange in his hands. He reached his hand over Toshiro's face, offering the piece of fruit to the other man's mouth. He felt Toshiro take it gingerly with his teeth, waiting until Ichigo let go to bite into it. They were laying on their bed, Toshiro's head propped on Ichigo's stomach as he read over some kind of transcript he'd gotten that day. Ichigo was too preoccupied with the crate of little oranges that had been left as a gift at their door that morning, finding he was rather fond of them. "Might have to invest in getting more."

"Have you eaten them all already?" Toshiro asked through a mouthful of juicy orange, not looking away from his paperwork as he flipped the page. Ichigo shifted underneath him, and Toshiro was on the verge of complaining about how his human pillow wasn't supposed to be moving, but was silenced by a pair of lips resting against his own.

"No, because," Ichigo mumbled almost bashfully into the light kiss, "I like the way they taste on you."

13: Damnation

"You're going to hell, you fucking queer," the man spat at Toshiro. Ichigo had only just come within earshot, having returned with their lemonades after having gone to one of the many stands lining the boardwalk. He was stunned white by the man's hateful words, and came close to rushing forward in rage, were it not for Toshiro's chilling reply.

"Better to live damned by your God and have known love first, than to have suffered your hateful life and do so forever."

14: Bomb

Toshiro could never have fathomed anything like it. He could never have imagined the heat. The raw, crushing, incinerating heat that ripped across the air as the bomb's fire razed the city. He could never have imagined the destruction. He watched with wide eyes as buildings disintegrated, the ground fell into a cavernous pit, and everything rang to a choking silence against the crushing sound of particles screeching as they tore apart. Shadows clung to every corner of what was left as the clouds fled in pressure-wrought rings of white, the only pure remains of a sky raped by war. And as the thundercloud of white heat rose into the sky, Toshiro realized something as the land rose away into nothing.

No heart, of any man or any woman, could ever fathom the true destruction of such a tool.

It did not surprise him that when Ichigo found him amongst the wreckage, that he was crying from shock. Soundless tears washed the soot away from his face in clear lines, but no tears could wash away the sound of a thousand souls screaming to death in his ears. No quiet embrace or whispered assurances could squelch the flames of Hell itself that burned over the purged city with a wicked glee. There was no clearing of the horrid smoke that rose slowly away into the atmosphere, carrying the only remains of the people who had lived there into the great unknown fold of nothing the sky soundlessly offered.

There was no apology for this, there was no recompense. There was no excuse for doing such evil onto other people, and it broke Toshiro's heart into thousands of fragmented pieces to know that it was within the capability of men to use such Armageddon worthy tools so idly. Because from under the shadow of this weapon, there was no saving. There was no promise of rebirth, no settling of the soul into a home in Rukongai, no knowing of better things, no promise of second chances.

There was only the whispering hell of the aftermath left behind, leaving behind those who could survive it to weep in its depravity.

15: Pukka

Ichigo had never been the type to be a good babysitter. He wasn't patient, wasn't particularly gentle, and wasn't the most creative man when it came to keeping small children occupied. So when Renji had implored him to watch their five year old son, for the sake of wanting to just have a night for him and Rukia to have to themselves, he wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to do. He agreed, wanting to give the poor man a break from the trials of parenthood, but past that he had no idea what he intended to do.

Especially not with his own month old child to worry about. He hadn't thought that part through too clearly when he'd agreed, but now as he sat cradling the little bundle that was his daughter protectively to his chest, he began to realize that it was probably a bad idea. The five year old son that Renji and Rukia had raised was a menace; probably much like Renji was as a child. And as much as Ichigo had tried to explain to the child every reason under the bloody sun why he couldn't touch her, the little black haired boy refused to hear any of it.

But Toshiro, bless his knowing heart, had managed to distract the child with a story from one of the books Rukia had sent over with him. Ichigo had been let off the hook for a moment, the boy sitting next to him on the couch paying rapt attention as Toshiro read to him from his favorite armchair across the living room. This gave Ichigo the opportunity to finally do what he had intended to do when he'd scooped his barely armful of daughter out of her bed a short time ago, and just hold her like every awestruck father did.

Propping an elbow up on his knee, he stroked a strand of her down soft orange hair away from her brow. She was well asleep, curled up against his chest with a tiny thumb tucked into her mouth. Every time he looked at her he felt like part of him broke and healed at the same time. He'd never known how much love he could hold in him until this little child had come into his life, and every time he looked at her little face he felt like his heart was breaking from the overwhelming force of his love for her. But that same little face would heal him over ten million times stronger, leaving him in this horrible, yet euphoric state of completely melted.

When he was drawn away from the hypnotic sound of his baby's breathing, it was because a knock had come on his front door. The morning was yet early, the night from hell spent with the five year old hellion apparently over as Toshiro let Renji and Rukia in through their front door. Surprisingly, their little boy didn't move from his position at Ichigo's side, instead pointing at the bundle in Ichigo's arms accusingly.

"Uncle Ichi was boring," he complained loudly to his parents. "All he did was stare at that skunk child the whole time!"

Ichigo's fist seriously came within seconds of slugging the kid full force across the back of his head. And were it not for Toshiro's voice of reason barking at him not to do anything stupid, he probably would have gone through with it. Instead, he let his shaking fist spread out into an open hand that settled down on the five year old's head, a very displeased smile on his face. "Aren't you cute," he growled out, as he promptly mussed every inch of the child's head he could get his hand on.

The short black hair went sticking out in every direction, much to the bashful child's dismay. He jumped off the couch to go hide behind his laughing father's knee, squealing out from behind his shield, "I will have my revenge."

"Bring it on, pipsqueak," Ichigo growled, glowering at the small child as Rukia thanked Toshiro for their favor. With that the little family left, leaving Ichigo to stew and pout on his own peaceably quiet couch once more. Toshiro sat down gracefully next to him, leaning into Ichigo's shoulder as he stroked the notably white strip of hair that sat on their daughter's little forehead. It was just a little tab of silver hair amongst the rest of the flaming ginger, and Ichigo didn't think he could disagree any more with Renji's child. It didn't make her look like a skunk at all; it made her look like a proper mix between her two parents, with a unique little flair.

He felt Toshiro's pale lips grace the side of his cheek. "Don't let a five year old get to you," he advised, and Ichigo leaned his head against his spouse's as he sighed. Toshiro was right, but he just had so much pride in him over this little baby that even the slightest insult would shove him the wrong way.

He knew already, only a month into parenting, that he would make a horribly overprotective father.

"Okay," he said, unsurprised that their little outburst had caused their daughter to waken. But she did so slowly, as if she really hadn't been disturbed by anything and was just opening her eyes to check on everyone. Her striking, Caribbean teal eyes looked up at him with a recognizable gleam, and she took her thumb out of her mouth to reach up for him with a tiny hand. Ichigo smiled as he bowed his head, nuzzling her hand with his nose. Her little fingers curled gently against his nose before she tucked her hand back to her. Apparently assured that her father was okay, she set herself back to snoozing against his arm.

Ichigo literally had to turn and bury his face against Toshiro's shoulder in order to keep himself from squealing at how cute she was. Toshiro laughed gently, patting Ichigo's head sympathetically. "I think you're smitten, Ichigo," he said teasingly, and Ichigo smiled against his husband's pale skin, kissing it slowly.

"I was before," he said through several more open mouthed kisses. "But now I've got two of you. I'm so spoiled I think it's a sin."

Toshiro tilted his neck, giving Ichigo a wider expanse of moon-kissed skin to garnish with love. "You are spoiled," Toshiro replied in a quiet sigh as Ichigo made to take advantage of that open skin. But Toshiro then turned his head, so that the two of them were quite suddenly face to face. Ichigo stopped immediately, the proximity of their lips tempting, but he waited to hear what Toshiro had to say. "But so are we for having you," his white haired spouse whispered, leaning forward kissing his waiting husband with so much tenderness that it made the wait well worth.

Ichigo kissed him back, before breaking away to look down at their tiny daughter. Toshiro had that same heart-breaking yet healing quality to him as well. "What was it that Unohana said to us, again? When she was born?" he asked, brushing a gentle knuckle against the little strip of white hair atop his daughter's brow.

"Made from true love and class," Toshiro whispered against his ear as he leaned his snowy head against Ichigo's shoulder. "A very pukka statement, I believe, well befitting her."

He leaned his head against Toshiro's. "Us too."

-Oh my goodness. I wasn't sure that I was going to be able to get all of these done in one day! I honestly thought they were just going to keep going and going and going and going. Mostly because halfway through I realized that I'd skipped five of them right out of the middle, and had no idea what to do for them. But regardless, I liked the way these turned out. Especially the last one, because the thought of Ichigo being a daddy just makes me squeal. Especially because of the thought process he would probably have as a new dad. That, and I wanted to have him be the overprotective daddy like he totally would be. Drabble 1 is a continuation of "Curtain Fall", and drabble 5 is a continuation of "X-Men", as per some of your requests. And what the katakana at the end translates to is "Maton-choppu", or the Japanese pronunciation of Mutton Chops. 7 I'm leaving rather vague, seeing what some of you may come up with as to what exactly Toshiro said to make Ichigo react like that. Drabble 10 I wrote post Ichigo's human death, if that wasn't clear. Drabble 12 come from my own love of Clementine oranges. Drabble 14… oh rabble 14. This comes from my own personal view, but I won't go into it any further than that lest I offend any of you even further. Drabble 15 was just fun, though I still don't have a name for their darling little daughter. I am going to need one, considering she is to reappear in later drabbles. Feel free to give me ideas for her name. But, again, NO PROMPTS PLEASE! I'm still behind! Other than that, I hope you guys enjoyed, and I'll see you all tomorrow. Probably.

8-90s love,

crypto