Merry (belated) belated Christmas everyone and a Happy New Year! I hope everyone's holidays have been excellent. I'm on break for another week before heading to campus for my last semester as an undergraduate student! Where has the time gone?
Anyways, I hope everyone enjoys this update! I am currently answering reviews from the last chapter, so if you get a random message from me, don't be alarmed. I'm just sorely behind on those responses.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Any mention of the Architects for Humanity are fictional. I don't know how they run their organization and just made something that made sense with my own experiences with charity organizations. Bleach isn't mine, either, in case anyone was wondering.
Chapter 6
Ichigo hadn't known what to expect upon entering the dust covered trailer of the sixth zone, but it certainly wasn't this.
When Kisuke had described Byakuya Kuchiki, Ichigo's mind had immediately began to construct an image. He pictured a tall, rugged, bear of a man, with a sharp grin and an even sharper glare and the signs of age in greying hair at his temples. He was bound to be obscenely built, probably looking like he had just walked out of a Rambo movie. His face would make children cry, and he would be fear throughout the city, if only in reputation. After all, Kisuke had said he had a compassionate side.
What Ichigo met was about the farthest thing from that image you could get.
As he stepped into the air conditioned trailer, serving as the office he assumed, his eyes landed on a large oak desk, a few chairs placed in front of it, and a man – not much older than him, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties – sitting on the opposite side. The man didn't bother to look up, his attention on the files in front of him. With his long dark hair tied at the nape of his neck, his slim build covered with a white tee shirt and a faded pair of blue jeans, the man could have been an ordinary construction worker, encouraged further by the yellow hard hat set off to the side of the desk. Only when Ichigo cleared his throat did he move, still focused on the paper work in front of him but gesturing with an elegant hand for Ichigo to sit.
As the orange-haired boy complied with the man's request, he did notice one thing fit his over the top mental image of his soon to be zone captain: the man was powerful. While he did not come off as the strongest in physical strength, Ichigo was sure that his intellectual gifts were beyond what he'd expect for a charity organization. The man screamed order, and even if Ichigo wasn't completely intimidated, he felt it best to listen to this man. Who knows what trouble awaited those who did not follow his instructions?
"Kurosaki, I am assuming?" the man asked, his voice much deeper than Ichigo had first expected. Then again, his expectations of this place were constantly being thrown out the window. He honestly didn't know why he tried to predict what he would encounter here anymore. Perhaps it was only out of habit at this point.
"Yes, sir," the younger boy answered. "Ichigo Kurosaki."
"Ichigo," the man repeated, nodding his acknowledgement. "My name is Byakuya Kuchiki." Byakuya looked up as he spoke, one eyebrow slightly rising as his gaze met the orange-haired man. His eyes drifted, measuring him against some long-existing standard of expectation in workers, and Ichigo fidgeted under the scrutiny despite his best efforts to stay still. The stare was almost disapproving, and if the younger man could have sunk into the floor, he would have.
Fuck, here we go, he thought bitterly, preparing for the third degree.
Of course the man would question his hair color, just like every other authority figure he had ever met. He waited for the man to mention it, ready to defend his naturally-given hair, only to have an entirely different question thrown at him.
"Did Kisuke not give you a tee shirt?"
Ichigo blinked once, twice before he realized what was being asked. He looked down at his outfit for the day, a light grey tee shirt with his university's logo stamped across the front and work jeans, before looking back up, his brow pinched in confusion. That was what caught the man's attention? A cheaply-made university shirt?
"Um, a tee shirt?"
"I don't see the reason why you'd need clarification of the garment, but yes, a tee shirt," Byakuya started, his tone tired. His hand swept down to the one he was wearing, lingering underneath the red text over the left side of the chest. "Those who work in the sixth wear this tee shirt, marked with our zone number and our organization's name and motto. Kisuke was supposed to hand you a couple of these, as they will be what you work in while you work under me."
Ichigo shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck as he shook his head. "No, sir, I was not given any shirts."
Byakuya let out a sigh of frustration, but nodded. "Typical. That blonde idiot always forgets, probably just to spite me." Even with the annoyance in his tone, Ichigo felt Byakuya was much less irritated than he put on. It felt like the kind of teasing that a boy might have for an immature friend: annoyed, yes, but amused with the predictability of it all.
"No matter," Byakuya continued, pushing himself up out of his chair. "That is why I keep a few boxes of them here in the office." He turned and with all the grace of a person born into royalty took two strides to get to the corner of the room where a stack of boxes stood, having gone unnoticed by Ichigo when he first arrived. Throwing another look at Ichigo before turning back to the task at hand, Byakuya began to search through one of the boxes. "May I assume you are a medium in shirt size?"
"A medium is fine."
With a plop, three shirts were laid in front of him, and Byakuya retook his seat. "We are currently working on three houses two blocks from here, but you will report here every morning to check the assignment board posted outside of this office, as I may be moving you around if I see you're needed elsewhere. For now, you will work with the red team on house number two. The house has been gutted and reinforced, and now needs new sheetrock hung. The address is on the board."
Ichigo nodded, doing his best to process the information as the older man kept talking. "Lunch is at one, and you will have an hour break then. You are working Monday through Friday, I assume?" Another nod from Ichigo, and Byakuya started up once more. "Excellent. I will be joining your team every Wednesday and half days on Friday to assist with the work. My attention will be given to the other teams on the remaining days, but if you need my assistance for any reason, my number is also posted on the board outside. I suggest saving it in your phone to save the trip to the office. Do you have any questions before joining your team?"
"No sir, I think I'm good," Ichigo replied with a small smile, his stomach buzzing with excitement. He was beyond ready to get to work.
"Good," Byakuya said with a nod, gesturing towards the door with his chin. "You are free to go."
X
Tatsuki flipped through the magazine as she lounged on the worn in couch, trying her very best to look like she was ignoring the two orange-haired individuals behind her. They were currently discussing the best way to remove stains from cotton tee shirts. Or rather, Ichigo was attempting to goad Orihime into getting his shirt back to wearable condition.
Today, his entire back and both shoulders was covered in paint primer, and she wondered how they had any left to go on the walls when it looked as if he had been drowned in the white substance. She had vaguely heard him justify it, mentioning one of his team members, Renji, had "accidently" spilled it while climbing a ladder. Ichigo just "happened" to be the one holding said ladder, and instead of letting the other man drop, he had dutifully held the ladder steady as the gobs of primer slid over his shoulders and down his back. If it had been her, she would have let the bastard fall on his ass for that, but Ichigo had taken the high road for some unknown reason.
"I'm not sure this will come out in the wash," Orihime commented, shaking her head as she tugged on the garment in question, walking around the man as she assessed the damage. It was already dried, leaving the shirt stiff and crinkled. "It's probably ruined. Can't you just go get another shirt from Byakuya?"
"I can't," Ichigo whined, the pitch sounding like it came from a five year old rather than the man standing in front of Orihime. "This is already a replacement for the shirt that Ikkaku ripped."
Ah, yes. Tatsuki remembered that shirt. It had barely clung to Ichigo's frame, as tattered as it was. Something about the hem getting nailed down by the bald man and Ichigo pulling away without realizing it. The man had been mortified going to Byakuya to ask for a new shirt, though the dark-haired man seemed to have expected it, saying something about the team "welcoming" Ichigo into the group in their own stupid way.
"Isn't initiation into the group supposed to be over by now?" Tatsuki called out, gaining the attention of the others. "It's already been a month, you know."
"This isn't initiation," Ichigo said with a frown. "This was an accident." Poor, clueless redhead. He was so naïve at times.
"Right." The dark-haired female said, sarcasm clear as she thumbed to the next page of the magazine, "and Orihime is a master chef."
"I only caught the kitchen on fire once," the girl said with a pout, only to earn an incredulous look from Tatsuki.
"But you were making tea, Orihime. Tea."
Ichigo pinched his bottom lip between his teeth, fighting to bite back his laughter. He had heard the horror stories of Orihime and the kitchen, and every time the unfortunate events were brought into the light, he struggled not to cackle, much to Orihime's embarrassment. The girl did her best to glare at the boy, even as her cheeks flared with a blush. "That was a long time ago, and I make a lot of tea now without any problems. Honestly, I've gotten a lot better at making my own food," she said defensively as she came to plop down next to her friend.
"Tell that to my taste buds," Tatsuki said with a cringe. There was a reason they always ate out when they ate together.
Ichigo lost it at that comment, doubling over as laughter shook his frame. Orihime only huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "If it is so funny, you can struggle to get the primer out of your shirt by yourself," she threatened halfheartedly.
That instantly sobered the man, who let out a soft groan as he shook his head. "Please help me. Byakuya told me I couldn't get another shirt for at least two months." If the man was capable of puppy-dog eyes, Tatsuki was sure he'd be using them right about now. "I'm useless with this kind of shit. Please?"
Orihime sighed dramatically, but nodded as she gave in to the man's pleas. "Alright, alright. I'll see what I can do. But I'm not promising anything."
Ichigo fist pumped in his victory, a wide grin replacing the pout he had worn moments earlier. For someone with two degrees, he really could be a child. "Thank you so much, Hime. What would I do without you?"
"Probably just suck it up and go get another shirt from Byakuya," Tatsuki said with a snort, closing the magazine to look at the man. "Now are you going to go change or not? I'm starving, and I'm not above leaving your ass here to fend for yourself while Orihime and I go grab some food."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm going," Ichigo said with a roll of his eyes. His hands grabbed the hem of his shirt as he looked around. "Hime, where do you want me to leave this shirt?" he asked as he tugged the stiff material over his head. He had a tank on under the shirt, but you would have thought he was stark naked at the way Orihime tensed in her seat, that blush appearing once more.
Tatsuki had to admit, it was quite the show. Ichigo was not unattractive by any means, and the manual labor had only served to better define his already fit physic. It never failed to make Orihime blush when his body was on display, even with something as simple as a tank top. Tatsuki smirked knowingly as she nudged the silent girl, snickering as the sudden touch had Orihime nearly jumping out of her skin as she stumbled through her words.
"J-just put it on top of the washer," she managed, flicking her wrist in the direction of the closet that served as the laundry room. If Ichigo noticed the waver in her voice, he didn't comment, thought Tatsuki assumed he was too thick in the head to catch it. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought Ichigo was teasing the poor girl by pulling a stunt like that, but the man was oblivious. She could place a sign around Orihime's neck that said "I like Ichigo" and the man would miss it. But then again, Orihime didn't exactly notice the way he smiled at her either. The two of them together were incredibly dense, but Tatsuki was too amused to meddle. They'd figure it out.
Ichigo happily padded through the apartment to the washer, depositing his shirt before turning to head to the door. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he called out as he passed the couch on his way to the exit. But he didn't quite make it, slowing to a halt as he passed by the desk littered with papers. Tatsuki watched as his eyes lit up in recognition, and she braced herself for the reaction she knew Orihime would have.
"Hey, you're applying to grad school?" Ichigo asked, throwing a look over his shoulder at Orihime, his expression melting into a shocked smile as he lifted the top page to examine it closer. "That's awesome. What schools are you looking at?"
Orihime shifted in her spot on the couch, raising her hand to twirl a strand of hair as she focused on anything but Ichigo. Tatsuki could see her shutting down, but she managed to answer the innocent question. "The one on top is Aoyama Gakuin University, but there's also Tokyo University of the Arts and Waseda University."
"I graduated from TUA," Ichigo said with a big grin. "And aren't the rest of these schools in Tokyo as well? That's where I plan on going after my time volunteering is up. I could show you around the city if you wanted. I'd hate for you to get lost," he teased, a happy smile fixed on his face.
Orihime laughed in return, though it lacked the usual brightness. "That's assuming I get in," she pointed out.
"Well, how about I help with the applications?" Ichigo said as he put the paper back on the desk. "All of these packets can be a real pain in the ass to go through alone."
"Yeah, that'd be great," Orihime said with hesitation, before standing, "But let's not talk about boring applications right now. We've got to get ready to go if we want to eat before the dinner crowd hits the diner."
"Oh, shit, you're right. Let me go grab a shirt and I will be ready," Ichigo as he once again headed towards the door, this time not getting distracted on his way. He slid on his shoes effortlessly and threw up a hand. "Be back in a flash!"
The sound of the door closing was much louder than it should have been in the silence of the apartment, the air around them suddenly tense. Orihime had moved over to the desk, stacking the applications and placing them into a drawer. Away from curious eyes, no doubt. Perhaps she was hoping Ichigo could forget all about them in time, and she could go on with her ordered schedule and not worry about change. The dark-haired girl hadn't planned on bringing up this conversation today, but now it seemed unavoidable.
Tatsuki was the first to speak. "How long are you planning on lying to him about grad school?"
"I'm not lying," Orihime said quietly, fiddling with her fingernails in an attempt to avoid the conversation.
"Right, because you're nearly finished filling those out," the dark-haired girl said with a scoff. "I'm surprised you still have them, considering all they do is collect dust."
"They tie the place together," Orihime said, attempting a joke. Unfortunately, Tatsuki saw right through it. The anxiety was there once again, and for a moment she was worried to push any further, afraid anything said would send the girl into an attack. It had been a long time since the last one, and she didn't necessarily want to live through another episode. But she was more afraid that she wouldn't get the opportunity to talk about this again anytime soon.
Tentatively, she stood, placing the magazine back on the coffee table. "You really should take him up on that offer, especially since he knows the area."
"You know I can't," the girl countered, looking anywhere but at her friend. She went to explain further, but Tatsuki continued on, cutting her off.
"Because it'd break the routine," she finished, "Yes, I know. But damn it, one day you're going to have to realize that the routine was a temporary fix. Something to preoccupy your mind so you could heal. But now you have to do what is best for you and your future."
"Staying here is what's best for me," Orihime started, and Tatsuki sighed as she rounded the couch to stand in front of the other girl.
"Graduate school would be a great opportunity for you, and you have so much potential." The words said were familiar after so many discussions of the same topic, always ending in a stalemate. Neither Tatsuki nor Orihime would budge on their stance. But she had to try and make her see what she was missing out on. This town, though it was on the rise, was still a dead end for the girl. She couldn't work at the Mediatheque forever. She had to get out of Sendai.
Orihime just gave a sad smile in response. "I know you worry, but I'm fine with how things are now. It's comfortable. Even if the routine is more permanent that I thought, it's helping, you know? Why fix it when it's not broken?"
Tatsuki just shook her head. "But that's the thing, Orihime. The routine is already broken. It broke the minute Ichigo walked back into your life." And it was true. The man had made changes in the routine, small changes like an extra person at dinner and a new opinion on movie nights, but the changes mattered. The routine was not the same anymore, no matter how they looked at it, but Tatsuki was happy with how it had shifted. Orihime was slowly becoming the old Orihime, the girl Tatsuki had first befriended. As much as she loved to annoy the man, his company was enjoyable, and he made Orihime happy. She doubted the orange-haired girl had even realized just how Ichigo had wormed his way into her schedule and turned everything on its head.
Orihime paused at the words, looking at her friend with a look of surprise, but she was unable to respond when the door opened once again, revealing a freshly changed Ichigo, now sporting a bright purple tee shirt. Any other time, Tatsuki would have teased him about the color, but right now she was too focused on the emotion that had flashed in Orihime's eyes.
"You girls ready to go?" he asked with a bright smile, glancing between the two. Oblivious. Naïve. But Tatsuki was thankful for that aspect of him right now. For the time being, it was better if he was left in the dark.
Orihime had quickly put on a smile of her own, nodding happily as she turned towards the door. Tatsuki followed behind, knowing she should have tried to be an active participant in the conversation, but she couldn't. She was too worried about her friend and the consequences of her words just seconds before Ichigo arrived.
Because it was fear that had crossed Orihime's features amid the surprise.
X
"Hey, Strawberry! You're wasting daylight! Think you can pour a little faster?"
Ichigo rolled his eyes at his persistent friend, pouring the white primer into the plastic tray for the rollers they were using. He was still considered the newbie, so he did all the pouring. That was fine by him. It kept him busy, at the very least. "If you're getting impatient, Pineapple, you can get your lazy ass up and come help me."
"And lose my spot?" Renji asked with mock shock. "Hell no. This is the best section of the wall."
"They you can wait," Ichigo shot back with a laugh, putting the cans aside and lifting the tray carefully to walk back to his spot. It was nearly time for them to leave for the day, but they just had this one wall left, and the team was too stubborn to leave it for later. They were determined to have the walls primed and ready to go for tomorrow so they wouldn't have to waste time waiting for it to dry before starting on the hardwood floors.
"There," Ichigo said as he laid the tray at their feet and grabbed a roller. "Happy now?"
"He won't be happy unless it's Wednesday or Friday," Ikkaku said with a snicker, and the inked man just whined.
"Do we have to talk about this every day?" Renji complained, dipping his roller into the primer and starting on wall.
"It's not like there's much else going on around here," Shuuhei, another member of their team, chimed in as his roller joined Renji's on the wall. "Why don't you just talk to her already instead of staring at her in longing from across the room every time she's here?"
Ichigo laughed at the words, images of a feisty, petite girl popping into his mind. Rukia Kuchiki was quite the character. The pretty dark-haired girl usually came on the days that Byakuya helped, going with her brother from place to place to volunteer. Renji had taken quite the liking to the girl, but had yet to have more than a five minute conversation with her.
"Because I doubt her brother would like me trying to hit on her," Renji said with a sneer. "I can almost hear the scoff now at the very idea of me trying to get close to her."
"He might accept you more if you didn't drool all over yourself in her presense," Yumichika added, focusing on adding his roller the tray of primer. "You aren't the best at hiding your intentions."
"It's not like I'm going to jump her any second for a quick fuck," Renji muttered in frustration, dragging the roller down the wall angrily. Ichigo had to bite back a smart-ass response about how if he tried, the girl would probably castrate him. He got the feeling that she wouldn't be one for a quickie on the job site, even if he had seen the look of curiosity and attraction she had thrown at Renji from time to time. "And in any case, I'm not that much of a pig. I can control myself and my sex drive just fine, thank you very much."
"Then why not talk to her?" Ichigo asked, nudging the man playfully.
"I'll talk to her when you talk to Orihime," the crimson-haired man countered with a smirk, and Ichigo groaned. He'd have to remember to get his revenge later, however, because Ikkaku, the nosy bastard, had jumped at the chance to tease the newest member of the team.
"Orihime?" the bald man started, a lecherous grin thrown in Ichigo's direction. "You mean the girl with the huge rack that brought you your lunch last week?"
"Watch it," Ichigo growled under his breath as he coated his roller in primer, ignoring the curious looks from the other guys. He didn't really appreciate Ikkaku's choice of words. They made him feel like the man had only seen her physical features, and something about that bothered him. She was a beautiful girl – he'd be a fool not to notice – but she was much more than that. "She's a nice girl."
"I could have sworn it was your sister with that hair," Yumi mused, shrugging as he added, "Though her personality is much more approachable than yours."
"That's rich coming from you," Shuuhei chuckled sarcastically.
"I'm honest. If people can't handle that, it's their problem, not mine," Yumi said with a huff.
"But seriously, Ichi, that's a good looking girl," Shuuhei continued, pausing in his painting. "You can't tell me you aren't the least bit interested in her."
Ichigo hesitated. "It's complicated," he answered finally, shaking his head.
No, he couldn't say that he had never thought of her as more than a friend. He thought about it a lot recently, if he was being honest. She was easy to talk to, more so than any girl he had ever tried to talk with in his university years. Her personality was just open, and he found himself gravitating towards her. But he was hesitant to start anything with Orihime. For one, he knew his time here was limited, though the idea of her attending a school in Tokyo made his heart rate quicken. To have her there would make things easier if a relationship were ever to form.
But there was the other thing, the elephant in the room that neither Ichigo nor Orihime had brought up. The disaster. Ichigo was afraid that his desire to be close to the girl was because out of everyone here, she understood what he had personally gone through the most. Everyone he had met in Sendai had been affected in one way or another, but she knew his story, and sometimes he wondered if that was a factor to the attraction. Disasters didn't seem like the best way to build a relationship, and that had Ichigo keeping his distance. Besides, Orihime was sure to have many prospects in her dating life. He was content with her friendship for as long as she'd have him.
"It's only complicated because you make it complicated," Ikkaku muttered, shaking his head. "You and Renji and the rest of the guys out there with no balls are thinking way too fucking hard about this whole dating game. If you like a girl, you tell her. If she rejects you, forget her ass and find someone who likes you back. Simple as that."
"And tell us, oh wise one, how's that working out for you so far?" Renji challenged with a raised brow disappearing beneath the filthy bandana he wore every day.
Ikkaku just chuckled. "I'll let you know when I have someone I'm interested in."
"I hope she's okay dating a man who is bald," Yumi said with a grin as he ran the roller up the wall. "I would assume that is an acquired taste."
"For the last time, my head is shaven, not bald."
"Whatever you say, baldie."
Ikkaku growled at the words but ignored the slim man in favor of focusing on his section of the wall. "Well, I still think you bunch of wussies should suck it up and just ask the girls out. What could it hurt?"
"Yeah, yeah, when did this turn into a daytime talk show? How about we just finish this wall and get out of here?" Renji asked, Ichigo making his agreement know with a sharp nod of his head. The rest of the team chuckled, but turned their attention away from dating and towards the last wall that needed priming. They finished within twenty minutes, and the cleanup began, primer being poured back into cans and paint brushes and rollers being taken to the hose outside to wash off the day's efforts. It was a quarter after five by the time they got finished, and Ichigo felt his urgency to get back to the apartment rising. Tatsuki and Orihime had wanted to try to new steakhouse down the street tonight, but he knew he'd have to hurry to get back and get changed for dinner if they wanted to beat the six-thirty dinner crowd. The apartments were only a twenty minute walk from the site, but he still picked up his pace, wanting to get back, less he face the wrath of a hungry Tatsuki.
It was a nice day, not too hot with the gentle breeze keeping everything at a comfortable temperature. His eyes drifted around his surroundings as he walked. The path back to the apartments have become familiar by now, so he allowed his mind to wander and his gaze to roam. He'd still need to call his father after dinner. Karin had a soccer match with the school tonight, and Yuzu had promised to send him a package of cookies shaped like little jerseys in honor of the girl becoming the captain of the team this year. Isshin had also had a few days off from the clinic, renovating the upstairs bathroom where the leaky shower head had finally become too much to ignore, and he wanted to see how it was going. Hopefully the old man hadn't flooded the house.
He snorted at the thought as he continued on, eyeing the flyers on a community announcement board as he passed. His eyes jumped from sign to sign, taking in all of the available apartments for rent, the lost animals, the multitude of cars for sale, each in their own obnoxiously bright color. He'd seen people out here in the mornings, stapling up their announcements and moving on with their lives, and he always liked to see if anything interesting caught his eye as he passed.
Today seemed to be the day for interesting finds.
He paused in his brisk pace as his eyes caught the gaze of another, faded and worn out as it peeked from beneath a bright pink page announcing the opening of a new salon on the other side of town. He reached up, pushing the pink flyer aside as he stepped closer. The flyer underneath, a worn piece of white paper, must have been there for far longer than most of the others, crinkled and partially torn from weather and other ads being placed around it and over it again and again. However, the main image remained, blurred slightly around the edges, but there all the same.
Warm eyes, though slightly tired and timid looking, peered at him, his face framed by short black hair, bangs pushed to either side. He wasn't very old. Ichigo instinctively pegged the man as maybe a little older than himself, though his face looked young. He was smiling gently at the camera, the photo probably taken by a friend or family member as he was placed in a large, fenced in yard with a dog by his side, tongue hanging out of its mouth happily. The caption under the photo declared the man's name to be Hanatarou Yamada, and Ichigo could have laughed at the comically common name of the man.
But he hadn't noticed the humor in the situation, too caught up in the gaze of the man in the picture. It was the same gaze that haunted his dreams for months, the same gaze that still popped up in his subconscious from time to time and would undoubtedly be there tonight when he closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take him.
Because the gaze he saw was that of the man he failed to save two years ago, huddled on the top of a newspaper dispenser before being swept away in the same chilly water that had chosen to spare Ichigo's life.
A longer update for those of you who have been patient with me and my hectic life. Alas, it is a cliff hanger. Yes, I am well aware of how evil I am. My apologies to Hanatarou fans out there. I'm a fan of the man myself, but I needed a name, and he was in my mind when I made the unfortunate character in chapter 3, so here he is.
Until next time,
Meg