AN: The prologue has been edited and a few more scenes were added.
Enjoy the chapter!
Chapter One:
A white paper lantern rested outside of the Kurosaki household. It was so light that it shook with the slightest breeze. But even then, its weight bowed Keigo's head.
Ichigo was dead.
His body had been found in the middle of the road, blocks away, just yesterday morning.
Why Ichigo had been out on that particular street at that particular time, no one could guess. But it was a bitter fruit to bear, knowing that one of Keigo's best friends, his strongest best friend, had been downed by a hit-and-run driver on a side street that hardly anyone ever used.
Ichigo was dead.
He swallowed heavily as Mizuiro knocked gently on the door beside him, his grip on the koden in his hands tightening. He wasn't good at this. Being sad. He didn't like the painful vice-like grip it pulled on his heart. He didn't like how his hands started shaking and his eyes filled with tears at a single thought.
Mizuiro was handling it much better than him. As stoic as he always was, even if he hadn't checked his phone in hours.
The door opened slowly, revealing a familiar looking stranger. The man stood in a pale grey suit, bearing glasses that framed narrow blue eyes and premature silver hair.
"Uh…" Keigo attempted to speak. It took him a few moments to realize the similarities the man had with their classmate Uryu, but Mizuiro was quicker on the uptake.
"Mr. Ishida," Mizuiro nodded politely.
This must be Uryu's father!
The fact dawned on Keigo, who was shocked, not having any clue that the man was close to any of the Kurosaki's.
"Kojima Mizuiro, Asano Keigo" the man greeted, opening the door wider to allow them entrance. An empty hall faced them, a small table set up dauntingly in the entrance way.
Keigo felt a shiver go down his spine.
Wakes. Funerals. They were like the livings' way of tying up loose ends with the dead. He hated the finality of it all. He didn't want an end. He wanted to keep all of his loose ends bundled up close to his soul, wanted to hold onto them with everything he had.
He didn't want to say goodbye.
Mizuiro, again in a show of far more strength than Keigo had, stepped in first, setting an envelope tied with a thin black and white ribbon down on a stack of similar papers.
The door shut and with a start Keigo realized that the older Ishida had remained, observing them coolly from the entrance. Keigo swallowed involuntarily at the other man's stare. Suddenly his fellow classmate's cold personality was making a lot more sense.
He rushed to the table, dropping his own koden on top of Mizuiro's and signed the registry quickly.
"C'mon, Mizuiro," he whispered quickly, walking forward.
Before turning the corner into the other room, he caught one last glance of Ishida checking their koden, tallying their worth into a notebook he held in his hand.
"Geez," he muttered, rubbing his hair and giving a short uncomfortable laugh, "some receptionist huh? Wonder why they chose him?"
Mizuiro just shrugged, "Uryu's father runs Karakura Hospital, Ichigo's," he hesitated over his deceased friend's name, "dad runs the local clinic. They would have had to work with each other for years, probably know each other pretty well by now."
His nose picked up the smell of incense, and his footsteps slowed as they drew closer to the end room. His hands were shaking again, despite the small distraction Ishida had provided.
Taking a deep breath, he took the last step through the open archway into the Kurosaki living room. The couches and home entertainment system had been cleared away to make room for the audience in front of the family altar.
It was a small affair, nevertheless, the sight of so many familiar faces all gathered together for such a reason shook Keigo.
There was Tatsuki. Her face hardened in a heavy resolve, her good arm around Orihime (strange, Keigo thought, wasn't Orihime supposed to be gone for the summer?). But there was Chad too, and Keigo knew that he'd had plans. Uryu was close to them as well, an unreadable expression on his face. Their lack of emotion shook Keigo's own resolve, but he forced himself to keep his eyes moving.
Ichigo's father was slumped on a cushion directly in front of the family altar, his head bowed. Ichigo's sister Yuzu was directly at his side, her head leaning on his shoulder in exhaustion.
Mizuiro nudged him, and he grimaced, rubbing his shoulder as they both moved forward.
In front of them, and beside the altar stood a heavy casket. His eyes had been avoiding it until now, but he had run out of excuses not to look at it.
Ichigo.
He forced himself to bow, following tradition as tears built in his eyes once more. Mizuiro did the same and rang the altar bell quietly.
His sniffling was more than a little obvious and he shook his head ruefully, Ichigo would've drop-kicked his ass if he could see him now. The thought released a strangled chuckle and he rested his hand on top of the casket for a moment.
"Damn it, Ichigo. Who's going to chase the girls with me now?"
"Tch. Ichigo never did that with you anyway, idiot," Mizuiro said quietly.
"Nah, he was too busy playing hard to get, the clever cad. A subtle, but effective approach," Keigo rebutted, but without his normal conviction.
"Always trying to lighten the mood, Keigo," Mizuiro sighed.
Keigo attempted a nonchalant shrug, "Ichigo always did keep me around for the comic relief."
Mizuiro didn't reply, lost in his own thoughts.
Keigo sighed, drooping even more. Tapping the casket lightly, "We'll miss you, buddy."
Karin wasn't hiding.
No, if she were hiding she'd be in her room, curled up in her closet. Or in the topmost branch of that one tree by the schoolyard, hidden by the leaves.
No, Karin wasn't hiding. She was practicing.
She positioned the soccer ball with her feet carefully. Aiming took a moment's thought and then she kicked with all her might.
Twang! The goal's net pulled taut.
The ball rolled back to her slowly. And she repeated herself.
Kick. Twang!
Goat-face hadn't left Ichigo's side since they found him. Refusing to eat. Refusing to sleep.
Karin had been entirely too young when mom had died, and she couldn't help but wonder if he'd done the same for her. She'd never have guessed from the way he'd acted when she had gotten older.
Kick. Twang!
Yuzu had cried until she was past tears, and then cried some more, her small form shaking with the dry sobs. Her voice still echoed in Karin's ears.
Ichi-niisan! Please, don't go! Ichi-niisan!
Kick. Twang!
Karin hadn't cried. She was too numb to cry. She hadn't visited Ichigo yet, either. Because she knew that she would lose whatever control she had left when she did.
Kick. Twang!
Thinking of her brother made her heart ache more than she'd like to admit, but her mind still couldn't stop turning to the beginning of the summer.
Ichigo hadn't been the same. It wasn't just the way he acted that she noticed. It was the way he moved. His gait had become more lazy and his arms swung more when he walked. But it was his expressions that she really noticed. His grins were more devious, his confusion showed more obviously, his normally reserved expression thinner, duller. Less practiced. There had been times when Karin doubted that the teenager was Ichigo at all!
Then there were his walks. The new Ichigo couldn't get enough of being outside, out of the house. In fact, if he stayed inside for too long he got jumpy, almost claustrophobic. And so he was outside more than he'd ever been before, just walking around Karakura lazily.
It was those walks that had him up before dawn in a neighborhood he had no business being in. And now she'd never have the opportunity to ask why. Why, damn it!
Kick. Twang!
And that wasn't even the worst of what was bothering her.
She remembered her summer as being a quiet one of watching T.V. and reading books, but at the same time images that suggested something completely different hovered at the edges of her memory. Giant monsters. Fights. Ichigo.
Her head ached with a fury every single time she tried to sort it out.
There was something she was missing, something she was forgetting. And Ichigo was right in the middle of it all.
But Ichigo was—
Kick.
The ball shot up in the air far past her intended goal, but she was far past caring.
He dreamed.
It was a weird dream.
Images, sounds, smells. They all kept rushing past him, faster than he could keep track of. Nevertheless, the images were burned into his head. Afterimages stayed and joined together with the next image, and the next, and the next. Mixing in with weird noises, faint smells, things brushing on the edges of his senses.
A women with long, wavy orange hair.
"Ichigo, are you ready?" "Yes, Mom!"
A man with a strong chin, and a goofy smile.
"Be careful, kiddo."
Two little girls.
"Ichi-niisan, we missed you!"
A tall Hispanic, standing over him, offering him a hand. "Ichigo, I will always stand by your side." Loyalty. A knocked over vase. The smell of flowers. The smell of fear.
A strong young woman, with short brown hair beside another with long orange hair. "Ichigo." Rain, it's raining. A tall teenager carrying a glowing bow. Trust.
Faster. Faster.
Black hair. "Ichigo." A monster. Pain. Fear. A dark man wearing sunglasses. "Ichigo can you hear me?" Determination. Sakura petals. "Kurosaki".
Faster, faster. A small women, eyes closed in defeat before her flaming harbinger. His head was about to burst. The edges of his vision fading into black. Waves of crashing sounds. A smirking man hiding behind glasses. Pain. So much pain. "Ryoka-boy". Purple. Black. Laughter. Red. White. "Ichigo." Relief.
And the overwhelming pressure that he thought would never end, that felt as if it had already been going on for an eternity, consumed him.
When he woke up, he didn't react to his surroundings right away, instead letting them wash over his exhausted form and muddled mind. The warmth of a heavenly pillow and soft sheets surrounded him and he could feel sunlight brushing against his face. In the distance he could hear the gentle noises of people bustling about. All he had to discomfort him was a slight pinch of pain in his right arm and a steady ache in his entire body that reached his core.
And then his stomach growled quite fiercely, ruining the moment of sleepy contemplation.
He forced his eyes open, frowning in displeasure.
The room he was in was small and tidy. On his right, a scattering of different machines lay beeping, some connected to tubes that went all the way the way over to the bed, piercing the skin on his right arm. On his left, there was an empty chair, a vase of wilting flowers, and a door.
He blinked, not recognizing any of it. Confusion motivated him to sit up slowly.
Where am I?
From the noises outside and the equipment in the room, he'd say this was a hospital of some sort.
Why am I here?
The last thing he remembered he was—
He raised his free hand to his head, thinking harder.
What did he remember?
There were vague images on the fringes of his memory. He knew they meant something, knew that they were something, but he couldn't, for the life of him, remember what.
He couldn't even remember his name.
Vague alarm swept through him at the realization.
Calm down. Think.
He was in a hospital. He felt horrible. Obviously something had happened. Maybe it was affecting his memory?
He glanced around the room again, hoping to spark some memory. His eyes landed on a clipboard resting near the foot of his bed, a good distance down from his feet.
Jackpot.
He reached down and grabbed it, wincing as the movement pulled on IV still attached to his arm.
Medical jargon he had no hope of understanding filled most of the pages, but fitted snugly in the top right hand corner of the foremost sheet lay a name. His name.
Kurosaki Ichigo.
"Kurosaki Ichigo. Ichigo," he repeated, testing it out in his head, "Ichigo."
It felt familiar, if that made any sense. It felt right, like it belonged to him. But nothing more than a feeling came to mind at its discovery.
"Damn it."
The door to the left opened gently and he looked up from the chart quickly.
A tall, harried young woman carrying a tray of delicious smelling foods came in. She had short silver hair, except for the two thin braids on the right side of her face that reached all the way down to her shoulder. Dangling red earrings hung from each of her ears, and a white band of fabric carrying the number four was wrapped around the arm of her otherwise plain black kimono.
He didn't recognize her in the slightest.
His stomach growled in demand as the aroma from the tray continued to drift in his direction.
When she noticed he was awake, she smiled slightly.
"Hello, Kurosaki-kun, it's good to see that you're awake. How are you feeling?" she asked gently as she settled the tray down on the bedside table next to him and took the clipboard out of his hands.
He frowned, "Confused. What's going on?"
She nodded sympathetically while reading something off of one of the machines to his right, before facing him directly.
Up close she looked near to exhaustion, but her gray eyes were focused as they stared at him.
His stomach roared in hunger again.
She smiled again, picking up a bowl of steaming donburi from the tray and handing it to him carefully, "Why don't you eat, Kurosaki-kun, and I'll try to give you an explanation."
He was anxious. Confused. Exhausted. But hunger seemed to prevail through his senses. Breaking apart the chopsticks the woman handed to him with a snap, he eagerly dove into the bowl.
"My name is Kotetsu Isane," the woman said as she pulled the chair closer to the bed and took a seat, "and I am the Vice Captain of the Fourth Division of the Gotei 13, where you are located. And if you hadn't already figured it out from the charts, your name is Kurosaki Ichigo.
You are in a place called the Soul Society. This is where souls return after they die in the Human World."
He stopped chewing as her words washed over him. He wasn't dumb, he could easily put two and two, or in this case, his lack of memory and his location together.
"I'm dead?" he asked, surprised and with a little suspicion. Death wasn't something he had considered. Of course, lack of memory made it hard to have any kind of foresight, "What do you mean, I'm dead? How did I die?"
Isane's smile faltered, "Souls die and pass on all the time. It's impossible to track how all such incidences happened and it's difficult for the Soul Society to monitor the Human World close enough to record individual deaths. Because of that, it is rare that we know the instances of our death. I'm sorry, Kurosaki-kun," she apologized.
Was it even possible to be dead? He didn't know if he'd ever been a spiritual person, but he had no evidence to contradict the possibility of there being an afterlife. Then again, he had no evidence to prove that it existed in the first place either. And just who was this Isane Kotetsu? How did he know that she was telling the truth?
"I know this is hard to accept. It's never easy. But I'm afraid only time and what you will see in the next few days will make it easier to understand."
"How do I know you're telling the truth?" he spoke his earlier thought.
Isane's face gentled in understanding, "I suppose for now you're just going to have to trust me. Once you're released from here, you'll be able to see it all for yourself and come to your own conclusions. There are hundreds of shinigami like me around, and thousands of souls that you'll be able to observe and talk to. It'll be a little confusing at first, but pretty soon you'll fall into the routine of it all like the rest of us have."
Isane's eyes were just as full of honest conviction as they were the exhaustion he had spotted earlier. The light laugh lines on her face, her doe-like eyes, the fact that she'd brought him food, it all had him wanting to trust her.
And for now, all he could do was trust her.
"Why can't I remember dying?" He asked, once again testing the waters and gauging her response, "Or remember anything for that matter. I feel as if there's something I'm forgetting, but I can't. . . "
"Kurosaki-kun," Isane broke in gently, laying her hand on his in comfort, "after someone has died, it is nearly always the case that they forget their past life. Sometimes this happens gradually over an individual's first few months as a soul, but in many instances memories of their past life are gone from the moment they're killed and transferred to the Soul Society. Likewise, when souls are reincarnated back into the World of the Living, they have no memory of what took place in their time here as a simple soul. One cannot say for certainty why, but that has always been the way of things. Personally, I think it's a good thing. Souls can be free to begin a new, start a life fresh without whatever weights and bonds held them in the past life."
He bit his lip at that. If she was telling the truth, then this was it. His past life was gone. And from the sound of it, it would never come back. He was starting over with nothing and no one. Isane made it sound like a good thing. But even just the few moments of thinking it over here and now had him afraid. What was he supposed to do now?
Isane pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Now, there is a lot of information that you're going to have to learn from this point. Because of your age as well as your level of reiryoku, you'll be receiving specialized training at the Shino Acadamy to help you develop a foundational understanding of everything from history and etiquette to the spiritual arts. For now I think it's best if I answer any questions you might have, and give you, well, the condensed version of what's going on."
Her granting him the freedom to ask more questions unleashed his curiosity and so he barreled on.
"Why am I so tired?"
"What is the Gotei 13?"
"What's reiryoku?"
"How old am I?"
"What's the Shino Academy?"
"Why am I getting it?"
"Does everyone get specialized training?"
"How many souls are there here?"
The list went on and on, and for every question answered twenty more popped up in its place. Isane did her best to answer each one to the best of her abilities and it was all Ichigo could do to retain even a fraction of it all.
All of his questions brought him to the most basic of understandings.
Ichigo had been fifteen when he'd died, but because of the way time and spiritual energy worked in the Soul Society (Isane's explanation of the matter had gone in one ear and out the other) he was closer to twelve or thirteen physically. He was tired because he had had such a large reiryoku (part of that spiritual power she'd talked about) when he died, it had all been absorbed in the process of dying leaving him drained. It would take him some time and a lot of training to build up his reserves again.
The Gotei 13 was the military force of the Soul Society made up of Shinigami in charge of defending the Soul Society and hunting hollows (monsters of some sort). The Fourth Division, which Isane was a part of, was in charge of healing and the janitorial duties of the Seretei (the center of the Soul Society). He'd learn more about the other Division's in his classes at the Shino Academy.
The Shino Academy trained souls with high spiritual power (or reiryoku, Ichigo reminded himself) to become Shinigami. Normally it took four to six years to finish but Ichigo was different. He would be receiving specialized training that would undoubtedly go by quicker than the normal process because he was both incredibly young and potentially incredibly powerful. And no, most students didn't receive it.
Which lead him to ask why he was so special.
After enough badgering on that subject specifically, Isane'd admitted somewhat nervously that she didn't have a high enough clearance to know all the details of his case. He didn't know what was more disturbing; the fact that he even had a 'case' or the fact that a Vice Captain didn't have the clearance to know it.
Isane's somewhat long explanations had given him time to finish his donburi and the food hit his stomach perfectly. After a while he felt his curiosity dulling to a low roar as exhaustion once again took its place. He blinked repeatedly as he fought to stay awake and continue listening to the Vice Captain.
But he couldn't fool her. Isane smiled one last time before standing up and picking up his left over dishes, "Don't worry about understanding it all right now, Kurosaki-san. That will come with time. For now, sleep. Get some rest—"
He was long gone before she'd finished with "— while you can."
A nagging thought hovered for a split second before it too was gone. Through all of his questions, he hadn't even thought to ask how, if they had no records of his previous life, she had already known his name.
Isane's smile slid off her face the moment she closed the door behind her. She set the empty tray down on her cart, grabbing another, smaller one for the room next door.
She took a few deep breaths before replacing her smile, knocking and entering the next room.
"No, Captain Hitsugaya, please don't get up. I've just come to check the lieutenant's vitals. Here, I thought you'd enjoy a bowl of donburi while you were here."
". . . Thank you, Lieutenant Kotetsu."
"Be careful, kiddo."
Ichigo jerked awake, gulping in air as adrenaline pulsed through his body.
Sitting up, he put his fists to his eyes in frustration. There was. . . no. . . it was gone.
Gone.
A hollowness panged in his gut. His eyes burned.
The sound of rustling fabric next to him removed him from his thoughts. He stiffened, lowering his hands quickly to peer out into the darkened room.
His heart stilled as he took in the tall figure standing just a few feet away from his bed. A white haori and scarf stood out in the moonlight, tekkou-covered hands rested at his sides, but the man's face was hidden in shadows.
Ichigo swallowed, blinking harshly, "Who's there? Show yourself!"
There was a slow moment where the figure didn't react, until finally he took a step forward so that his face entered the moonlight.
Ichigo's hands gripped the blanket in front of him tightly as he peered forward. The figure had a solemn, still face, and long dark hair arranged by white hairpieces that otherwise blended completely into the darkness behind him.
Sakura blossoms swirled in clusters around him.
Ichigo blinked at the fleeting image, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. He swallowed again as the man's incriminating stare searched his face.
When the man turned abruptly to the door in silence, Ichigo felt a keen sense of disappointment.
"Wait," he called out before the figure could leave, "who are you?"
The figure halted.
There was only a short moment before Ichigo felt such an intense pressure that he couldn't breathe. Sweat broke out over his face as the man glanced back in cold fury. Ichigo felt the blood drain from his face, his eyes widening imperceptibly.
And then it was over. The man was gone. The door opened only slightly. He couldn't help but let out a shuddering breath when the alarming pressure was released.
"What," he shook, "what was that?"
Whatever it was, he wasn't just about to leave it alone.
He threw his covers back, yanking the last of the medical tubes from his arm, before stumbling out of bed and towards the door.
The man couldn't have gotten far.
He swung the door further open and then, with a dawning horror, tripped on the hem of his sleeping kimono and fell flat on his face with a flailing of limbs.
Groaning pathetically, Ichigo pulled himself back up, rubbing his now throbbing nose as he looked down the hallway.
Nothing.
Then someone coughed slightly from behind him and he jerked around, still holding his nose.
It wasn't the man he had chased after. It was just a kid, standing by a door just past his own. A little shorter than Ichigo and with shockingly white hair that stood out glaringly in the night, the boy wore a white, sleeveless haori similar to the other man's.
As his past clumsiness caught up to him, Ichigo felt his face go red and he dropped his hand from his face.
"Kurosaki," the boy spoke sternly and Ichigo started at his name, "what are you doing out of your room?"
"There was a man in my room, I was trying to follow him," Ichigo said, deciding it was best to be honest.
Expressions flit across the boy's face as his head dropped down in thought, muttering the word "Kuchiki."
"Is that his name? Do you know him?" Ichigo asked quickly, "He didn't say anything, but—"
"Kuchiki is none of your concern," the boy snapped quietly and glanced back up at him before frowning slightly, "you should return to bed."
"He was in my room," Ichigo said, feeling his irritation rise at the boy's easy dismissals. He wasn't about to go back to bed after what had just happened. He wanted answers. Why was that man there? Who was he? What was that energy?
And besides that, he wasn't feeling particularly inclined to follow the orders of a kid that was shorter than he was.
The boy's frown deepened, the lines on his face tightening, before he released his tensions in a calming breath.
"I will discuss the matter with him," the boy finally conceded.
"But why—"
"It's late Kurosaki. Return to your room," he said, his tone giving no room for argument.
He felt his eye twitch, his own frown growing.
Why, the little—
"Captain Hitsugaya, Kurosaki-kun," a newcomer called out and Ichigo turned to see a young, pensive man approaching them. Unlike the boy next to him, he was wearing only a plain black kimono, and also unlike the unmoving body next to him, the man seemed filled with a nervous, twitchy energy, grappling his hands together and peering towards the other boy in concern.
"Is there something wrong?" he asked, and was it just Ichigo or was this guy purposefully avoiding looking at him, choosing to dart only a few almost frightened glances in his direction.
Wait— had he said Captain Hitsugaya?
"You're a Captain?" he blurted out, and he would avidly deny later that his voice raised an octave. If he'd remembered correctly, Isane had said that Captains were the heads of the Division of the Gotei 13. He'd been imagining austere, old men of great power. His mental images ran into a wall at the sight before him.
"Yes," the boy, Captain Hitsugaya, bit off in obvious irritation as a burst of energy, not unlike what he had felt in his bedroom earlier, raced through him briefly.
He swallowed the rest of his exclamations of disbelief.
The Captain looked back towards the growingly anxious man that stood next to them, clearly dismissing Ichigo from his thoughts.
"I'm leaving. I have other matters to attend to."
The man bowed and popped back up just as quickly, "Yes Captain Hitsugaya. Of course, sir. Thank you for your all of your visits. I— I think the lieutenant really benefits from them." He looked horrified at saying his last sentence, his eyes growing even wider.
The Captain only nodded once. "Handle Kurosaki. He shouldn't be wandering around at night," he said before turning his back on them to leave.
"I'm sorry! Of course, Captain Hitsugaya. I'll watch him very closely!" the man said, bowing multiple times in the direction of the Captain's receding back.
He let out a small sigh of relief once the boy was out of sight, glancing at Ichigo with a hesitant smile.
He seemed to remember that he didn't want to look at Ichigo and he started, literally jumping of his feet before stammering on "So, um, well. Let's get you back to uh, bed, Kurosaki-kun. It's very late, well, early and you need your rest."
Ichigo didn't move, his frown returning, "I'm not going back to sleep. I want to know what's going on! Who was that? What was that pressure? Who was the man in my room earlier?"
With each question the man's eyebrows raised higher and higher in a sort of despairing wonder, his hands twisting together with a nervous energy.
"Well, I, uh, I don't know if— wait, there was a man in your room?" the man asked, Ichigo's questions catching up with him.
Ichigo nodded, his frustration plain, "Yes, that boy, Captain Hitsugaya, said his name was Kuchiki."
"Captain Kuchiki?" the man's voice squeaked, wringing his hands, "Oh dear."
Another captain?
"Captain Kuchiki? I don't understand," Ichigo started incredulously, "is it that common to run into Captains around here?"
The man glanced at him warily, "For you, I'd say apparently so."
And just what did that mean?
The man took pity on him, his face softening even more as he stared at Ichigo, "I'm sorry, Kurosaki-kun. Not knowing what's going on and stuck in a st-strange place must be very difficult. But there's nothing more we can do tonight, as-aside from letting Captain Hitsugaya handle the situation. For now it is best if you get back to sleep. Your reiryoku was particularly strained over the past few days following your, uh, d-d-death, and um, you should regain your strength as quickly as possible."
He was tired. Ichigo wouldn't lie. For all the sleep that he seemed to be getting, he could still feel that exhaustion in his bones, and his legs seemed embarrassingly shaky. Death took a lot out of you.
"And tomorrow, you'll tell me more about what's going on?" he asked hesitantly, not wanting to give up a source of information.
"M-me?" the man asked nervously, "I'm sure there'll be someone bet—"
"I'd rather it be you," Ichigo said honestly.
The man blinked, "But why?"
Ichigo shrugged, feeling suddenly uncomfortable under the other man's observation.
"Why not? You don't seem too bad, much better than that Hitsugaya guy anyway," he paused, a grin growing as he watched the man sputter, "and I have a feeling I'm going to need a lot of help if I' going to understand half of what's going on around here."
And besides, from what he'd seen so far, he doubted the man could tell a lie to save his life, which meant that Ichigo could trust what he said with a certain confidence.
The man was still staring at him (personally Ichigo was glad he'd gotten past whatever his previous aversion was) and he watched in curiosity as the healer's face turned light pink.
The man bowed his head quickly, saying with a not-adeptly-veiled pleasure, "Of course, Kurosaki-kun, I'd be happy to help."
Ichigo smiled in relief, "That's great, thanks a lot."
He turned slightly before pausing, scratching his head in awkwardness, "Oh, uh, what's your name again?"
There was a flash of some sad emotion that Ichigo couldn't understand before the man responded quietly, "Hanataro. Yamada Hanataro."
"Hanataro," Ichigo chuckled, "that's a funny name."
Another flash, and then Hanataro smiled, chuckling himself, "So I've been told."
"Well," his chuckling morphed into a yawn, "Good night then, Hanataro." With a wave he headed back to his room satisfied that he'd be getting more answers in the morning.
"Goodnight, Ichigo," Hanataro replied, feeling happier than he had in days.
To be continued.
Author's notes:
The koden Keigo and Mizuiro held at the beginning was condolence money, a common gift to the family of the deceased. For those interested, I used Buddhist funeral traditions to influence that first scene.
Second, this fic might be taking liberties of some of the nuances of the Bleach world. I'll admit, while I enjoy reading and watching the series from time to time I am by no means an expert. With that said, and with this being fanfiction, I hope you will all find it in your hearts to forgive me.
And finally, and as always, I tend to be sporadic in my writing and so updates are always up in the air. A giant batch of cyber cookies goes to Lil Mexican for kicking me into shape this time round. I will try to keep myself more on the straight and narrow this time.
I foresee one more chapter and then Ichigo's off to a lucky Division. Want to make a suggestion? Poll's on my profile page.
Thanks for reading,
StrictlySomething