Remembrance of the Tired

by ShamelessDelusion27

Ichigo's tired. He's sacrificed his soul for his friends and family, in return, they've abandoned him. He's ready to start over somewhere with these new weird flames. Tsuna's tired. He's tired down to his soul, nothing he does changes that, so he's given up. He's accepted he'll always be a good for nothing. Then, a teen with orange hair enters Namimori, and things begin to change.

Hey everyone, new story, but don't think we've forgotten our other one! This one has just been bugging Xanxus666 and I, so here we are. It's a KHR x Bleach crossover that'll mostly be focusing on Ichigo and Tsuna. Another thing, this might be a Ichigo/Hibari pairing (can we call the pairing 1815?), so bare that in mind.

Either way, hope you enjoy the story!

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Ichigo's tired.

He's tired in a way that he hasn't felt in a while. Back when the loss of his mom was still new and he couldn't grieve properly because he had to take care of himself, the house, his sisters.

But he wasn't allowed to cry, wasn't allowed to rest, wasn't allowed to just be a nine-year-old child, one who just saw their mother brutally murdered before their very eyes.

No, he had to straighten his back from where his tiredness caused them to slump. He had to swallow his guilt when he put his sisters to bed, wiping their tears, and comforting them as best as he could. He'd shoot glances at the closed door of the clinic where his dad was holed up in, having never realized that a door could look so dark and hollow.

So, he shoved away his want to curl up in some dark corner and whine for a comforting hand that would never come. Never again.

First protector.

Eventually the weight was familiar, eventually he didn't notice the burden placed on his too small shoulders.

He'd take his sisters to and from school. Make them breakfast, pack their lunch, prepare dinner. He'd wake his sisters up for school, help them get ready, help them with their homework, deal with their teachers. He'd forget about his own schooling, just focused on the twins.

They were his. His to protect. His to teach, love, guide. It sparked something in his chest that had been so cold before.

He'd ask the twins about their day, learn about their classmates, and memorized every word they said. He'd take them to hang out with their friends and dealt with the pitying eyes coming from all sides with a scowl. The gentle pats on his head, the empty condolences, the talking behind his back like he couldn't hear, couldn't understand.

In the end, he learned how to deal with it too. He'd always been a fast learner.

He's still tired.

Tired in the way he knows he shouldn't be and yet it settles on him like it never left. Back when he laid sprawled out on the floor, cheek smarting from the unexpected punch from his dad. A first, but not the last.

He remembered the burning feeling in his eyes, the fear in his sisters, and the nonchalance in his dad as he laughed it off. "Going to have to get better than that, Ichigo," he stated, a certain edge in his voice.

It had been nearly two weeks. Two weeks that he'd been MIA and that's how he greets them, him.

He swallowed his hurt. He thought that… well it didn't matter what he thought. All he knew was that the slump in his shoulders was at war with the way the warmth inside him wanted to lash out.

First protector.

He got use to the hits, the attacks, being always on guard. He got used to the feeling of what he once considered his home no longer being safe, the resignation lining his bones, the knowledge that he was at fault. Always at fault.

His dad was called Bastard from then on, in the safety of his mind.

But that didn't stop him from ensuring his sisters were never harmed. He made sure they stayed out of the way. Made certain to calm them down and to act like nothing was wrong. Everything was wrong, so wrong.

His sisters were smart though and they learned from him.

Where he subtly manipulated the Bastard to focus on him, that when anything went wrong in the house, like the Bastard tripping over one of Yuzu's toys, his frustration would be on Ichigo and Ichigo alone.

Yuzu, sweet little Yuzu made sure to be daddy's little girl, no matter her hidden fear of him. She'd distract the Bastard while Ichigo was doing chores around the house, ensuring he would finish without having to deal with new bruises added on to the old ones. She'd eventually learn to take over, at least, on taking care of household responsibilities.

Where he couldn't get even for himself, for his sisters he would. When the Bastard turned his attention to the girls, fawning and tripping over himself to hug them, making them uncomfortable, Ichigo would say something particularly biting to get him to leave them alone.

Karin, angry little Karin, was determined to not play pretend, where resignation filled Ichigo and manipulation moved Yuzu, Karin was full of spite. She had taken to calling the Bastard Goat-face, something Ichigo had started addressing the man as after he grew his stupid beard. She'd mutter insults under her breath, yet loud enough for the Bastard to hear, and kept her distance from Goat-face, both literally and figuratively.

Wariness still filled her actions, in all their actions, as she got back at the Bastard in small ways. As she helped Ichigo avoid the man and she used her barbed words to make Goat-face sulk as they all worked in the clinic. She was the only one who could, who would make their displeasure known and not face the consequences.

Tired, so tired.

Why must his sisters suffer through this, fearing their own father, hiding behind fake smiles and lies to cover up how broken their family was because of him.

Before his mother died, Ichigo was at the top of his class, had a few acquaintances, and was a cry baby. Now, well… there's more than one reason people don't look too closely into his growing injuries outside of not believing a respected doctor would do such a thing.

He always got shit for the color of his hair, for talking to thin air, for being a momma's boy, and when Tatsu couldn't hear, for losing to a girl. However, any comments about his orange hair, the color he got from his mom, was now met with a punch to the face. Nobody made anymore comments about him being a momma's boy though, he had become the boy whose mother's dead, and those fools were met with a vicious kick to their stomachs. People learned very quickly not to mention his mom.

With Tatsu… He dropped out of the dojo and rarely saw Tatsu anymore despite her best attempts. She'd notice, she'd notice everything. He couldn't. He just couldn't.

The less said about him seeing ghosts the better.

His teachers tried to talk to him about his feelings, thought it'd help him get over his newfound violent tendencies. He always stared at them with a scowl marring his face before they called it quits and dismissed him. They tried involving Goat-face, and on the few times he deigned to show up, he waved the teachers' concern off, and scolded them for wasting a doctor's time. That got them flustered and usually ended the meeting right after that. His teachers eventually gave up, writing him off as a lost cause, just another bright student turned delinquent.

That's a title that followed him from the tender age of nine until the very present day. It's what excused the injuries made by hands too big to have come from school yard fights. What excused half-finished homework, late assignments, never stopping to wonder why. Why despite all that, he remained in the top half of the class, why he still bothered to turn in work, why he nor his sisters ever mentioned their father again.

Better yet, why they knew to talk to Ichigo if there was any issue with the girls instead of phoning the Bastard.

First protector.

Delinquent.

It resulted in fights on school grounds till eventually they knew not to mess with him and his. The local gangs and yakuza took notice and tried to recruit him or kick his ass.

Unfortunately for them, by that time he was used to taking hits from grown men, and this time, he could fight back.

He came home bloody at first, injured more than from one of Goat-face's surprise "trainings," but victorious. The satisfaction of winning fell to the wayside in the face of the twins' tears. He needed to be stronger, faster, better.

And he did.

Demon of Karakura.

Even the yakuza learned to fear him, not that it stopped them from trying. He didn't mind so much; it was a nice workout.

When they brought groups, it was harder, but manageable. When they brought weapons, that was… different.

But Ichigo has always been a fast learner.

In payment, he'd take some of their better-looking knives and blades. Sometimes even cash. Which is probably what antagonized many to keep coming at him, not that it mattered. It just meant that his collection continued to grow.

When he was bored he taught himself some new tricks with the blades, ones he's seen a few guys do, or from online videos. From there, he'd practice throwing them down by the river, improving his aim and accuracy. He got comfortable with the knives, taking care to clean and sharpen them, till they eventually became a familiar weight in his hands.

It was something he kept to himself, something that he did while wandering Karakura on his lonesome. Entertaining him as he walked till it got dark, something that happened more often as the three of them tried to stay out of the house as long as possible. With the girls being older they could now go out by themselves, busy with friends, school clubs, and afterschool practices.

Ichigo, on the other hand, had taken to walking around Karakura, knowing its secrets in a way no one else did. It made him restless, yet the freedom to do as he pleased settled something inside his chest, but with no other option and no reason to stop either, he continued to do it.

Then came Chad.

He had seen a big guy just getting beaten up by a bunch of idiots and well…

First protector.

He took the other to the clinic, introducing him to his sisters. Together they patched up both Ichigo and Chad. All too familiar with the routine despite the amount of time that's passed since Ichigo's last needed their help with something like this.

With a friendship made by a promise and sealed with bloody knuckles came someone Ichigo could entrust his back to and a place he could relax at instead of heading to his house and simply enduring.

Chad never minded his gruff demeanor, permanent scowl, or his preference for silence. He too enjoying the companionable silence that occurred between the two of them. They played video games or read books at Chad's place, and when he went wandering around town, Chad was a steady presence at his side.

If Chad ever noticed their strained relationship with Goat-face, he never mentioned it. But if after meeting the Bastard, Chad began putting himself between them and Isshin every time since, well… there was little Ichigo wouldn't do for him for a reason.

The tiredness rescinded some once he befriended Chad.

The yakuza were more persistent on the other hand. Perhaps they read into the situation too much, but him having Chad fight alongside him made them believe that the "demon" was trying to form his own group. Idiots.

Of course, with that and the knowledge that the demon was open to having allies, it drew several curious figures to him. All of them were a waste of his time and he had no interest in indulging them, except for one.

Mizuiro Kojima.

He didn't seem to be a part of any group but was avoided nonetheless by the other men.

He kept his distance and when he did run into Ichigo, he was very respectful and calm, which was suspicious. And yet, Ichigo didn't scare him off, simply ignoring the other when he entered his peripheral vision.

Then enter Keigo Asano.

In the summer before third year, Chad and Ichigo got involved in another fight, this time, Mizuiro and his friend were shoved right into the middle of it. The whole situation was amusing for the most part, especially with the cool front Mizuiro had through it all while his friend had a heart attack.

First protector.

Somehow the two of them ended up becoming their friends. Now it wasn't just Chad and Ichigo, but Keigo and Mizuiro as well who stuck to their sides like determined leeches.

He ended up being fondly exasperated with the two. Even more so when Keigo came up to them apologizing, thanking, and insulting them all in one breath. Apparently his and Chad's reputation really scared the idiot. He remembered the silent laughter in Chad's eyes as they shared a glance.

He felt less tired.

Things had gotten louder, but more entertaining. He wasn't as bored, or alone anymore. Now what was his to protect had grown alongside the spark in chest.

The two of them had also taken to joining his wanderings, what they jokingly referred to as "patrolling." He gave the two a whack on the head for that, but the thought never left him.

He knew that to Mizuiro and the yakuza around that by all means, Karakura was Ichigo's. His to protect, his to defend, his.

And he enjoyed the thought, the warmth inside him that's always restless mildly appeased by the idea, but it wasn't… it wasn't enough. He wasn't sure how to word it, but something still didn't quite sit right.

It became a new norm, having friends, places to go, things to do, and having less time to be left with only his thoughts to keep him company. He still longed for the quiet, but in the same way he got to know and understand the three, they too got to know Ichigo and adjusted accordingly. It was… nice.

He wasn't as close to Tatsu anymore, time and distance ensuring that, but he remained comfortable in her presence. Going to the same high school but having different friend circles didn't allow them to interact much, yet they still struck up a conversation sometimes or said hello. He'd talk about his sisters, and she'd speak about her tournaments. It was progress, something Tatsu knew by the look in her eyes, however she thankfully never made mention of it. Perhaps they are far closer than Ichigo originally thought, then again, Tatsu has always been his childhood best friend.

But then…

The ghosts came back to haunt him.

Rukia.

Urahara.

The Gotei.

The Visored.

The Arrancar.

Aizen.

He knew he was being manipulated, but he didn't want to know what would happen if he didn't follow along, besides, Rukia needed him.

First protector.

Things were going by too fast, the battles, the conflicts, the people, his powers.

He has always been a fast learner.

With Rukia and the stupidity of the Gotei, it wasn't much of a surprise. The new environment was something he could adjust to, the new powers were an advantage, no matter their shady origin. The blooming friendships were a boon, but more people he must protect. Byakuya, the shitty older brother, who became less shitty after a proper ass kicking.

Why won't anyone answer his questions honestly?

He was getting restless. He dismissed it as nerves.

Afterwards, when people were healing, when thanks were being given, when Ichigo was looking at all the Shinigami and wondering why Aizen would resort to this. There is always some truth to crazy people's claims, and he wonders what this centuries old government had hidden in the shadows. No government is without blood marring it's walls.

Then Ukitake walks over with a Shinigami badge in hand for him, something to make it less of a hassle to use his powers. He recognizes it for what it is. A brand. A leash.

He hands it over, Rukia's captain, gentle smile on his face, as if to hide the fact that he's essentially manipulating a child who helped save and protect the Gotei. He isn't as good as he thinks he is at hiding his guilt and Ichigo isn't as dumb as he likes to pretend. He takes it.

It causes something in him to bristle.

Urahara apologizes, but Ichigo knows this probably isn't going to be the last time. Odd, isn't it, that a human boy can use Shinigami powers. Not to mention, the dark, animalistic change that took over him. And Urahara- a shady shopkeeper who knows far too much and hides just as many secrets- is in just the right place to help him.

Why aren't they explaining anything to him?

Tiredness is creeping back in.

He keeps getting involved in the Shinigami mess, both because he needs to protect what is his, and because they keep dragging him into it. He befriends Orihime somewhere along the way, and contrary to popular belief, he is aware of her crush. He just doesn't know how to reject her and possibly deal with getting Tatsu on his ass for making her cry.

Ishida is still a tsundere, but someone he thinks he can consider a friend. He's got his own issues and seems to have just as shitty of a father. He doesn't like Shinigami and from what Ichigo has observed and learned, he can't really blame him.

The arrancar are a surprise and he almost dies once again, but that isn't something new. The visored are also a surprise and he's not sure what's the deal with this group, but he has to get stronger. Finding out he's a mix of hollow, Shinigami, and human is simply a confirmation that he just rolls with despite his inability to control it. For as much as they call whatever this is training, it's about as useful as Isshin's.

Why are they helping, why are they relying on him, why has he been able to fight and beat captains?

Complacency is dangerous.

Learning the history of the visored, learning about the Hōgyoku, constantly learning in bits and pieces is frustrating, and he handles everything with a scowl. He thinks he's quickly getting the picture here, what exactly they are expecting from a boy brand new to their world and reliant on them.

Still, he keeps quiet, and oddly enough, so does his zanpakutō.

First protector.

He's never felt so bitter by it as he does now. He shoves the feelings down, down, down.

He can't afford to deal with this, not when Orihime is gone. Not when the Gotei are as useless as always. Not when Urahara is still planning and moving pawns in his chessboard.

The warmth in his chest feels like lashing out again. He settles his hollow.

So, he does what he's always done since his mother died, he fights. He fights and he fights, and he fights and he

F

I

G

H

T

S

He's tired.

It's not the fights that tire him. He enjoys a good spar, a good battle. It's the manipulations. The lies. The way they rely on him to win, someone who's a fucking toddler in comparison to the years they've lived. In the way he has to train and train and learn in the middle of battle because he has to survive.

He thinks of the arrancar. How Aizen's just using them, how they have their own thoughts and goals and are seen as nothing more than monsters in the eyes of the Gotei. He thinks of Grimmjow and how they could have been friends in another life. He thinks of Nel and how she has shown more loyalty to him in the days they've known each other than the vast amount of Shinigami that he's met. Ones he's known for months and has heard stories spanning centuries and yet... He thinks of all the arrancar who are dead or going to be killed and how no one will mourn them. The weight on his shoulders is heavy.

He can't rest. He can't stop. He needs to do this, to save his friends, to stop this megalomanic who isn't entirely wrong and so lonely. He needs to be their tool, their weapon, their god slayer.

For them, for the Gotei, he couldn't care less. Ichigo has never claimed to be a nice person and quite frankly they made their bed, they should fucking lie in it. But Ichigo will always protect what is his, has always given his all, even when perhaps he really shouldn't.

It will be his downfall.

In moments where he could just be himself, where he isn't pulled in all different directions, he enters his mind space. There, he is greeted as King, as Ichigo, just Ichigo.

He talks to them, he gets to know them, he befriends them. Even the hollow, who he has accepted as his.

The Visored may advise against it, may curse him out, may yell warnings and call him crazy. But that's his soul, this is someone who gets him, who is him. He will not reject a part of him. He will not condemn one that can showcase all that he can't, won't.

They argue and they fight and Zangetsu calls him out on his shit, but their each other's, and that's it.

It surprises his hollow, turns him vulnerable for a second- just as willing to show weakness as Ichigo- before he laughs long and slightly broken. Progress.

The old man had become a bit of a parental figure, calm in the face of his and Zangetsu's anger, advice and explanations given freely whereas Zangetsu prefers to just kill the problem. He agrees it's a simple and effective method, which makes the hollow smug, but it's also not something feasible sometimes. Zangetsu flips him off as he moved to drape himself over Ichigo who then fell onto the old man. They stay like that for a while, content in one another's presence.

He cherished those moments, grew to trust, love, and rely on the two. His confidents. His partners. His soul.

He's not sure what it says about him trusting his soul more than any other and he doesn't care to find out, he's happy. He hasn't been happy, not like this, not in a long time.

It's easier to deal with the tiredness with them on his side.

Then it all comes to a head.

His soul.

Zangetsu.

Ossan.

He can't.

Please. Not them. Why? WHY? WHY ME?!

They've cornered him in a do or die situation. Aizen is right there. His friends are out their fighting and risking their lives. The Gotei are out on the field, killing enemies, holding the line.

Urahara is looking at him with guilt, regret, anguish, and deep-seated weariness. And for all his want to hate, hate, hate, he can't.

He's tired.

Goat-face is there. A Shinigami. He still doesn't know much about the Bastard's past, but Ichigo's smart, he already knows. And oh, how he hates.

He's tired.

Zangetsu is cursing up a storm in his head, some are pretty creative, enough so that if Ichigo was in a right state of mind, he'd be blushing mad.

Ossan's quiet, patient, waiting. He knows.

First protector.

He goes with the Bastard into the Dangai. Spends most of his time in his head, ignoring, and barely interacting with the man. Zangetsu wants to kill him, and Ichigo wants to let him, it's Ossan that keeps their hand. He can't meet Goat-face's eyes, doesn't want to let the Bastard know how much he wants to shove his sword through his heart, doesn't want to lose any semblance of control he has.

The warmth, the spark in his chest has gone still. He doesn't know what that means.

He says his goodbyes. Tears falling fast, apologies spilling from his lips, knees weak, shoulders heavy, and regret pumping through his veins.

Zangetsu had shook his head. Ichigo remembers the words, the tone, even now after so long since he's been alone in his head. "First protector, right King." There was this sad understanding, this familiar tiredness lining the words, and yet this fierceness that had Ichigo agreeing.

Ossan brought them all into a hug, an all-encompassing comfort that allowed them to stain each other's clothes with tears. "Ichigo. You have become strong. I have had the pleasure of standing by your side all this time, watching you grow. What greater happiness can there be? I am satisfied."

He's tired.

And he's alone.

He's fighting Aizen. He wants to rage for all that he's sacrificed to get here because this asshole had to start a war, but at the same time, the stupid butterfly wasn't the only one at fault. And for all his murderous urges, to just kill all the Shinigami, to be done with this bullshit, another part of him remains level-headed. Reminds him that doing so will accomplish nothing, but more lives lost to another meaningless slaughter.

Zangetsu. Ossan.

He fights. And he wins. And he doesn't get to kill Aizen. As both a mercy and revenge. Urahara traps the so-called god. For once, Ichigo doesn't care about the reasons, the apologies, anything. Just the emptiness in his ribs, the cold spreading in his body, the hollowness that leaves him wanting to sob, but no tears come.

Days pass.

He doesn't know how long, just knows that it's been long enough.

At first he thought they were leaving him alone to sort things out, to come to terms with everything that's happened. He knows better now.

He's been abandoned by those who he once considered his.

He's tired.

Zangetsu. Ossan.

Ichigo's lost his soul. Shattered it, by choice, and now he's paying for it. He thinks it's more than just his soul that broke that day, or maybe everything else was already broken. Or maybe, just maybe, the abandonment finally cut what tethers he had left that kept him together. Either way, he's broken.

He gave up everything for them. He risked everything for them. He sacrificed his soul for them.

And yet, he stands here by himself, cast aside, a sword that's nothing more than a fractured hilt.

The Gotei, he understood. It is filled will foolish, senile bastards, who feared what they didn't know and killed what they couldn't control. There was no love lost there.

The Visored. Well… they were finally welcomed back into their home, why they'd want to go back to the place and individuals that betrayed them, he doesn't know, but they're probably happy. Aizen's been dealt with, they're back in Seireitei, they're all okay, and now they can continue with their lives. It sucks, but Ichigo's good at sucking things up.

He ignores the small part of him that thinks they only befriended him so that he could fight Aizen for them. Doesn't mean he disagrees.

His Shinigami friends. He thinks he could accept it; these were centuries old beings; time wasn't the same for them. They also had to clean up after the war, just knowing that Ichigo was alive was good enough for them. It hurts, but Ichigo could deal with it.

His human friends though, they've… Ichigo doesn't know how to feel about it. They've taken to ignoring him, sending almost pitying looks as they go out to handle the hollows. Their friends not in the know don't really understand what's going on, they try to reach out to Ichigo, but the others stop them. And Ichigo lets them. He doesn't think he'd be really good company right now, nor does he want them to be forced to pick a side. It hurts, it hurts, and he doesn't know if he could handle this.

He's been barred from the Shōten, politely turned away as if he hadn't spent the past few months practically living there. It's just an added hurt on top of the many others.

Kon, for all that he's a little annoyance, has been with him since the beginning. He's part of the family; he knows things that others don't because he lives with them. And he's not stupid. He curses the others out, threatens to mutilate them, to show them just how much they're hurting Ichigo. It brings a small smile to his face even as he shakes his head. He tells Kon not to worry about it, not to mention it, and to continue doing whatever he was doing before. Kon's worry is evident, his doubts obvious, but he follows as Ichigo asks.

He's so tired.

He doesn't expect Karin to start playing the ignorant card, the constant running off that reminds him of himself, the secrets she's keeping, the small lies she tells him. Ichigo raised her though, Ichigo was her brother, friend, confidant, he knows. He knows what she's up to without her even having to tell him. He swallows the bitter feeling that climbs up his throat.

Used and threw away one Kurosaki. Now on to the next.

Yuzu is busy, as she is nowadays, but she's his little sister. Always has been, always will be. She tries to be there for Ichigo in every way she can, she makes sure he eats, sleeps. She talks his ear off and tries to make him engage in the conversation. It helps.

When she threatens to beat some sense into Karin, Ichigo doesn't let her. Tells her to let Karin be, she can't always be reliant on her older brother. They both know that isn't what this is about.

She cries.

Ichigo wraps her in the tightest of hugs, tries not to remember the last hug he gave, and reassures her that everything's fine.

She looks at him then, tears still falling. "It's not, Onii-san, I know it's not. You can't see it yourself, but I'm scared, so scared."

He knows. He's avoided looking in the mirror for a reason.

He remembers how Urahara mentioned that his original plan ended with Ichigo dying. He thinks that might have been the better option than this. A mercy. One neither he nor Aizen got.

First protector.

Despite the emptiness of the title, he will always be the twins' older brother, will always protect them above all others. Will put their cares, their concerns, their happiness above his own every time.

So, he takes care of himself. Gains back as much weight as he can, the food tasting like ash in his mouth. He trains, just because Isshin has finally left him alone just like all the others doesn't mean the yakuza have. He sleeps as much as he can, forcing himself, trying out different methods to help him knock out instead of being consumed by the quietness in his head.

He goes back to his old routine. Staying out late, wandering around, but not in Karakura. He visits the towns nearby, experiencing new things, and feeling the freedom to just be. It's strange, he thinks he might not come back sometimes, and a part of him doesn't really care. There isn't much waiting for him. It's his sisters that always manage to force him to go back.

He's tired.

But for the first time, he's more than that.

He's angry.

He's bitter.

He's restless.

He gets back into fighting the local gangs. This time, he meets new ones, what with him expanding the areas he wanders.

He gets his own place.

It's a warehouse. He sets up a clinic, or what's a bastardized version of it in the corner. He has a bookcase set up against the wall, gets back into reading. Brings in a cot, where he usually passes out on instead of going to his house. He bumps up in class rankings, where he sits comfortably in 18th now and doesn't care to go any higher. He skips school some days, learns to ignore his so-called friends, from Chad to Mizuiro to Tatsu.

In the warehouse he sets up a display case, where he puts some of the prettier knives up. He returns to his practice of throwing daggers, learning tricks, except this time, he implements them into his fighting style. He considered joining a dojo, maybe trying out kendo, but the thought of having any other sword but Zangetsu in his hand left him ill, so he threw the idea out.

Hence, the daggers.

The yakuza and any other unfortunate soul who dared to fight him were now subjected to his new style, ranking up from idiots to training dummies. There are a few competent individuals, especially with experience in the knife department, so he gets some good practice in now and then. Sharpens his skills.

He's always been a fast learner.

Time passes and this becomes his new normal. He no longer minds so much. He's taken to meditation, despite his reservations. Ignoring how much he longs to hear a certain hollow and old man's voice.

He doesn't think he's quite forgiven everyone for their… betrayal, but he's accepted what has happened. He's a little embarrassed at how hurt he is, he loved like his mother did, his mother who died for him, and he subconsciously held everyone else to that standard. He knows better now. However, they aren't his anymore, so he cares not for their problems. He's once more on his own, which has never bothered him before, he's always been largely independent, he just got used to having others in his life.

He thinks something's changing in him.

More than just his mental and emotional state.

The spark in his chest, the warmth that he thought was his soul, is still there. And the more he settles into his skin, the stronger the feeling grows.

When he fights, it seems to draw it out more, and as of late, there seems to be a purple sheen to his daggers. He doesn't know if it's a trick of the light, but for the first time in a while, he feels alive.

It happens one day. He's fighting an entire gang a town over, a bloodthirsty smile growing with every downed idiot. The constant movement, the wind in his hair, the flips, and the strikes, they just make him feel so free.

One final knock out. The butt of his handle ramming into the other's head.

Purple.

All he sees is purple.

There's this purple fire coating his twin daggers and yet it isn't burning him. He could only stare mesmerized by it, eventually they flicker out, leaving Ichigo wondering if he imagined it all.

But no, the heaviness, the way his eye lids beg to close, the slightly melted daggers, they all prove the realness of the moment.

He manifested purple flames.

He knows that's not a Shinigami thing.

Purple flames.

Honestly, it seems to be more like some type of energy, but Ichigo doesn't know what.

He grins. He honest to kami grins.

He's tired, but in the I've-finished-working-out kind of way.

He takes to trying to draw the flames out, he quickly realizes he has to rely on his resolve. Nothing new. Ossan taught him well. Meditation seems to help. He takes to trying to keep the flame in his hand on as long as he could before he gets tired. He improves by the day. It's harder to simply call them to hand, it's better to have something he could channel them through. Like his daggers.

They can't handle the output though. The purple flames aren't meant to burn, even if he can make them hot enough to do so, but he can't figure out what their purpose is. Still doesn't change the fact that the weapons in his arsenal can't handle the flames for long periods of time.

He's own body can't either, so he knows he needs better knives, quality knives to continue using this new power of his.

He can't say he's surprised; he's used to being different, but it's a welcomed change of pace. Now to just figure out what the fuck is going on.

What a familiar thought.

He's tired, but more so, he's curious.

He's taken to spying on people around the areas, hiding his presence to see if anyone let's anything slip about flames. A side effect, or maybe an unforeseen benefit from training with the Gotei's previous top two assassins.

The problem is that he isn't sure what he's searching for. He stumbled upon the Shinigami's by accident, and even then it wasn't actually much of one. He doesn't know if those with flames are about as competent as those in Seireitei, but he knows they have to have some type of secret society. However, he doesn't think he'd get much from these common thugs, he needs to go higher.

Simply because he didn't care for yakuza politics doesn't mean he can't run with the best of them. Especially not with Mizuiro constantly keeping him up to date with everything that was happening even several towns over.

A self-proclaimed duty of his that he took with all the solemnity of a man on death row.

But Ichigo was months out of the loop and didn't have the same widespread information network that Mizuiro had.

Guess it was time to pay a visit.

Things had been… quiet, so to speak, when it came to his friendship with Mizuiro and Keigo. They didn't know what was going on. And with neither side willing to speak about it and avoiding each other like the plague, they could only be pulled to one side, confusion marring their faces.

Ichigo didn't have anything against them, they haven't hurt him, not like the others, but he also didn't want to explain the shit that happened while he's still adjusting.

However, he was going to ask a favor from Mizuiro after ghosting him all this time, so it's the least that he could do.

It's during lunch that he manages to catch up to the other teen, what with the others out killing hollows, and Keigo busy horribly flirting with girls.

The look Mizuiro gives him is unreadable, but he still agrees to talk with Ichigo, who can't help but remember Keigo saying that Ichigo was the only person Mizuiro ever really opened up to.

He doesn't know how to feel about that.

He explains to Mizuiro about wanting to be caught up with all the information on current standings of the yakuza. The possibility of being kept informed, all without mentioning the purple flames or why this knowledge was suddenly important to him.

Not that Ichigo had ever dismissed or ignored what Mizuiro had to say. He had memorized everything the teen said, so when he mentioned a name or a group, Ichigo knew who he was referring to. He asked questions to further expand or explain the situation and was genuinely curious on what new things Mizuiro had managed to gather. He simply never had much use for the information.

Things were just… different now.

So, with the slightest frown on his face, Ichigo asked what the other wanted in exchange. He somewhat expects the other to question what was going on between Ichigo and the others.

Mizuiro studies him, eyes never leaving his face. Ichigo doesn't know what he's looking for.

"You know," Mizuiro remarks in mild tones, "you used to have more faith in me."

He pauses, lets the silence settle on them like a blanket.

He did, that's true. He wasn't nice per se, but he gave everyone the benefit of the doubt. He certainly trusted more than was wise. But Ichigo has never made the same mistake twice.

He learned better. He's always been a fast learner.

And Mizuiro may not have been one of the ones to have thrown him away, but since he was little, he's taken every lesson he's been taught to heart. This is one of them.

Demon of Karakura.

It's a title he's long since accepted as his, one he never really took problem with. In fact, he and Chad used to laugh over it. Now, it's something he's living up to, something he's trying to weaponize, to become something more.

There's progress. It's more than fear, it's respect, its allies, its reputation above being a delinquent.

Mizuiro gave him the information. Showed him the papers with all his findings written in his neat handwriting, but the more damning thing was the way it listed everything since Ichigo had last talked to the other. Every day was meticulously noted and all the happenings that Ichigo missed were written in excruciating detail.

Ichigo has never been a coward.

He looked at Mizuiro and bowed, in thanks, in apology.

He left then. Left school. The tiredness is still there, but Ichigo thinks Mizuiro has once more made it easier to bear. Loyalty. Ichigo knows loyalty. He didn't think anyone he's met knew it, at least, not the way Ichigo understood.

His heart hurts. It's good, it's bad. He meditates.

Mizuiro texts him now. Instead of the quiet talks on the rooftop while Chad and Keigo were distracted playing some card game. It's a change, it's progress.

The teen gives information freely, answers his questions, and when he can't, goes out to find it. Ichigo never makes the mistake to doubt him again and Mizuiro never makes mention of it again.

Overtime, the messaging gets friendlier, now it's not just about yakuza politics, it's about some stupid thing Keigo did. About the trips he's taken with his girlfriend. His comments on certain foods, places, people. Mizuiro doesn't ever bring up Chad. Ishida. Orihime.

Ichigo responds in kind. About some of the things his sisters are up to, the things he reads about. The idiots he's fought. The new places he's visited, people he's met, food he's tried. Ichigo doesn't explain the months that led up to this new normal, the distance, the reasons that he's now alone.

Progress.

He still hasn't found much on the topic of flames. He's been going steadily up the ladder, subtly inquiring, which usually ended up in a dead end. Apparently, these flame guys were capable of keeping things quiet, so they probably weren't spiritual beings that no one could see. That made things easier. At the same time, harder.

Demon of Karakura.

He's two towns over, fighting some foreigners for the local yakuza. They couldn't do anything because the foreigners were guests to another neutral ally of theirs, but they wanted them gone. Information in exchange for cleanup, simple enough.

Ichigo got used to talking in double meanings, used to reading between the lines, used to making deals that benefited both parties. It reminds him of Urahara, even if the shopkeeper was never aware of just how much Ichigo perceived.

The good thing about most of the groups he temporarily allies himself with was that they were honorable men, kept to their word, and Ichigo had long since had a similar disposition.

However, on the rare times someone double crossed him, well Ichigo was already prepared. He clinically and viciously dealt with them, ensuring that everyone knew better.

The foreigners fought differently from those that Ichigo was familiar with. Most of the yakuza grunts weren't formally trained, what they had was experience, and street fighting. Those in the upper echelons had some martial arts background and were pretty skilled in a wide range of weapons- mostly axes, swords, and spears.

These guys had what Ichigo assumed was combat training. Low leveled admittedly but having that type of training spoke of an organization of a higher caliber than the yakuza groups around here. They were certainly a lot more forceful, relying on brass knuckles, maces, and guns to get their point across.

Explained the yakuza's want for them to be gone but unwilling to do it themselves.

Guns were a difficult thing to smuggle into Japan. Difficult but not impossible.

Ichigo knows that several of the yakuza have some hidden away, only willing to use them when necessary, less they risk the police's attention. At least more than usual. They can't have a gunshot go off and expect the police to turn a blind eye as they are prone to do when it comes to dealing with the yakuza. And nobody wants to deal with them, even if they could get some dirty cops onto their side.

Then again, yakuza members could be doing nothing, and the police will arrest them on sight.

Ichigo's cautious.

With his further involvement into yakuza affairs, the more shit he sees. Usually involving the freshly minted members, they are reckless and trying to prove their worth, which is where all those stories about how fucked up the yakuza are.

To be reckless is admirable in the yakuza.

However, it's those higher up who know to take care in what they do. They know better than to commit a small, stupid crime you see and hear from the news. They can't kill anyone, it's hard to hide it when the police are watching their every move. They can't sell drugs, not as profitable as one might think when it's incredibly hard to smuggle them and find buyers.

Of course, this means they get creative in punishments that don't result in deaths. It took all of Ichigo's resolve not to react when he was given a front row seat one of the times. It was at the beginning, when he first started asking around, a group wanted to let him know what happens if he betrays them. Ichigo knows pain, in more ways than anyone can comprehend, yet that doesn't mean he'd want firsthand experience either.

They work the grey areas though, jobs that aren't legal but not illegal either, things like extortion. It makes working with the yakuza a bit complicated, but they are content to send Ichigo where they can't go thanks to him not being classified as yakuza.

This means that he's both familiar and unfamiliar with guns. He's seen them, seen a few guys wave them around, but he's never had one pointed at him though.

The foreigner looks a little too comfortable with it in hand. He's saying something in his language, but Ichigo doesn't really understand. He thinks it sounds a bit like Spanish, but not quite. However, the universal gesture of put your weapons down is understandable.

He slowly lowers his daggers to the ground, eyeing the five in front of him.

Three men, two women.

One has a gun, no other weapons.

Two have brass knuckles, one with a gun hidden on their body.

One has a sword, no visible gun.

One has a chained mace, metal padding on their knees.

Demon of Karakura.

He's rising as the group relaxes, which is a mistake on their part. Never let your guard down.

He rolls forward, daggers in hand once more. He throws one towards the man with the gun and one at the woman with the other. They aren't dead, but he hit an artery, they have a few hours to live if they don't get help soon.

There's a third gun, it's unexpected.

He dodges enough that it misses his heart, but the pain in his arm is something else. He pushes it to the back of his mind, he can't afford to stop, to rest. He pulls out two more daggers.

Time passes. He never stops moving, winding through their moves, twisting out of the way, its fast paced. They're a lot more skilled than he thought and they work well as a group. And despite his practice, he's a beginner with daggers, especially with no one to teach him.

That's fine. Ichigo's a fast learner.

He pushes himself to new heights, new limits. He has to be fast enough to dodge the sword slashes and mace swings. Kaidō isn't an option. He has to be fast enough to dodge the fists lined with brass, knee strikes aided with metal covers. Another critical injury isn't an option. He has to be fast enough to dodge bullets. Death isn't an option.

What's holding him back?

Just because he lost his spiritual powers doesn't mean he's weak. He's been beating individuals stronger, older, more experienced than him since he was ten without the help of reiatsu.

He feels his flames flickering under the surface.

Where's his resolve?

Has he let Ossan's teaching fall to the wayside?

Has he let himself get so pathetic that hesitance now follows every strike he throws?

No.

No, he hasn't.

He refuses to falter here. He refuses to fall here. He refuses to fail here.

Yes, he lost his soul.

Yes, he lost most of his friends.

Yes, he lost his way for a while.

But Ichigo's a protector first and foremost.

He has his sisters.

He has Mizuiro. Keigo. Tatsu. Kon.

He has himself. The only person his zanpakutō wanted to protect, to shield, to save.

He's not throwing that away.

First protector.

Ichigo's a mess afterwards, but he's the one still standing while the rest lay unconscious on the ground, beaten, bloody, and bruised. He spits on the floor, the taste of iron strong on his tongue. He's not sure where to go, Karakura is too far and there's no one he knows around here that he trusts to help.

He stumbles in some random direction, hoping to at least be away from the scene when other people eventually pass by and catch sight of the bodies strewn in the alley.

Ichigo grabs the arm, flips the person over his shoulder, shoves his knee onto their stomach, and places a dagger to the other's throat.

"Hey, hey, kid calm down, I was just trying to help you out, no need for all this."

It's the English that throws him off enough that he backs away from the man. Sharp eyes cataloguing every movement they make.

"Guess that's mostly my fault, though, my bad. Should've known better than to come up behind you."

Ichigo says nothing.

"You got some good reflexes there, kid. Even with all the injuries."

The man looks at ease, still lying on the ground, but leaning on his elbows. He has peppered hair, tan skin, and part of his left ear is missing. He's broad shouldered, but lean, body built for speed. There's this casual air about him, but Ichigo knows better.

"I can help you out with that if you ain't got no one else. You do know what I'm saying right?"

"What do you get out of helping me?"

"Ah, so you do! Man, you're a distrustful little kid aren't you. Well, it's a good trait to have."

"…"

"A kid of few words, huh. The names Plinio. As for what I get, well… I don't like hurting kids, and I feel kind of responsible."

Ichigo's eyes narrow. "So, you're with them."

Plinio sits up, legs crossed as he waves the accusation away. "Eh, let me explain alright, before you get all stabby. You see I was with them, I'm hired help, but now I'm not."

Ichigo sighs, he's not in any state to handle this, already his eyesight is blurring.

"Alright, let me blunt with you kid. I don't like being swarmy, that ain't my thing. I want to help you because I got standards, cause I saw you fight which is making me very curious, and cause I'm bored. That good enough for you?"

"No, but it's going to have to do."

He's tired.

He wakes, tired, and in pain, but a sort of numbness to it like he's on painkillers. He doesn't know where he is, but the place is clean and sanitized. It's not an actual med bay, yet it's a lot better than the bastardized version back in his warehouse.

He's covered up with bandages. His arm hurts. He wants to sleep. And he doesn't know where he is.

He remembers passing out. He really doesn't like getting shot, it's a different type of painful than what he's used to. Remembers the Pliko guy. He doesn't trust the man. He needs to leave. Worse still, he's in debt to some random shady man while in a vulnerable position.

His flames are agitated.

Ichigo tries to get up, get out of bed-

"Fuck! Shit! You motherfucking asshole!"

Pliko laughs as he removes his hand from where he pushed Ichigo back onto the bed, except, he pushed down on his arm, the same arm that he was shot in. Damn prick.

"I don't know a lick of Japanese, but I know cursing when I hear it. Maybe you can teach me, while you rest. And when I say rest, I mean staying in bed and not trying to leave much like your common sense has."

Ichigo glared at the older man.

"Heh, got quite the scary face there kid. You know, I never got a name, or a thanks seeing as I saved your ass might I add."

Scowling, Ichigo muttered, "Thanks, old man."

Pliko shook his head in dismay. "Rude brat. Honestly, what are they teaching kids these days."

"Oi, old man, stop calling me kid."

"Well, I still ain't got a name."

"Ichigo."

"Ichigo, huh. Suits you. Not that I would know anyways."

"Tsk. Just tell me what you want?"

The man scratched his head, "Eh? Didn't we go over this already? Did you hit your head a little too hard?"

Ichigo shot him a disbelieving look.

Pliko just raised an eyebrow at him.

"How long have I been out?"

"A few hours," the man shrugged, "It's pretty late. Got someone you need to call?"

"No."

And he didn't.

He already told Yuzu not to expect him home for a few days. Mostly because he planned on staying out in his warehouse seeing as Goat-face was going to be home this week thanks to an overload of work at the clinic.

"I see. You from around here?"

"Relatively."

"So, what's a kid like you messing around with people like us?"

"People like you?"

The man smiled. "You know, the riffraff. Common thugs. Shady criminals. You don't look like the usual shmuck that gets involved with this shit."

"I wasn't aware there was a look," he drawled.

Pliko snorted. "Kid, I know trash when I see them, you ain't it. You're quality. Quality doesn't hang with these low leveled fools. In fact, I don't know how you became quality if this is all you had to challenge you, so somethings up."

It was Ichigo's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Do you not see the state I'm in?"

"Don't be an idiot," Pliko began with an eyeroll, "Those were some high-level trash with guns at their disposal, and you're the one who walked away despite your clear disadvantage and inexperience with daggers."

"Didn't you just say I'm… quality?"

"Yeah, but like baby quality. You got potential to go far, so quality, but you're new to the scene, so baby. Hence, baby quality."

"Of course," he said dryly.

Pliko shook his head. "Go back to sleep, brat, we'll talk more tomorrow."

He's a little less tired when he wakes up in the morning.

He ditched the past few days of school and where he intended to show up at least for his last day as a third year, here he is, confined to some stranger's bed in just his boxers. If he had been getting creeper vibes from Pliko, he wouldn't have stayed, no matter his current state. Or better yet, Pliko wouldn't still be breathing.

He watched as the older man busied himself around the place, mostly shuffling around with coffee in hand as he tried to make breakfast with only a microwave.

"Where are you from anyways?"

Pliko blinked at him, "Morning to you as well. I'm from Italy."

Any other questions Ichigo had planned to ask were promptly forgotten as something in the microwave exploded. For several seconds, the two of them simply stared at the dirty glass screen.

"Did you just microwave an egg?"

"Yes."

"Dumbass."

Pliko had changed his mind about not wanting payment for his aid. Ichigo had been apprehensive, but it wasn't a surprise. When Pliko made his request, Ichigo could only stare blankly at him, especially with his reasoning.

In return for Pliko saving him, he wanted the opportunity to teach Ichigo how to fight with daggers. Apparently the man was quite the expert at them, and it was a slight against his pride to see someone handling them so disgracefully.

Ichigo had eventually rolled his eyes, but he couldn't pass up the chance to be taught by someone who knew what they were doing.

He's not as tired anymore.

Pliko was a different type of teacher compared to all his previous ones. And by different, Ichigo meant competent.

Of course, he first began by throwing knives at Ichigo every time that he messed up the older male's name, but that's another story.

"It's Plinio brat, Plinio!"

First, they went over how to properly care for your daggers, which Ichigo was already adept at. With some minor adjustments, the old man was satisfied. That done, Ichigo was itching to get into the actual lessons, unfortunately the old man was a massive bitch.

Noticing Ichigo's restlessness, Plinio insisted that he must learn the history of the ancient dagger arts and its evolution. He proceeded to drone on about the most boring, dullest stuff to man for an hour. Most of which Ichigo was positive was coming straight out of his ass.

However, once he stopped trolling Ichigo, Plinio began explaining in detail exactly what he was expecting from him. He'd answer every question of Ichigo's with just as much care. Then he'd demonstrate the move, slowly going through the motions, before speeding up. He'd give tips and minor things to keep in mind before quizzing Ichigo. When he was done with that, he'd let Ichigo try it out. He'd focused intently on Ichigo, fixing his movements, and making him repeat the move till Plinio was content.

Afterwards, he'd stab at Ichigo from different angles, and Ichigo was only allowed to use that one move. The old man only considered the attack learned once it was ingrained in Ichigo so much so that it had become a reflex.

Even before all that, Plinio had sparred against him to get a read on what Ichigo could do, what he already knew. Trying to view Ichigo's strength, endurance, speed, flexibility. Plinio wrote out a schedule to improve everything even if Ichigo was already at a high enough level for most of them. Hell, he had a strict diet plan that he had to follow. Thankfully Plinio wasn't as bad of a cook as Ichigo was led to believe, besides he's been cooking by himself since he was nine, so they had that part covered.

It was a good thing that the school year had ended, then again, Ichigo probably would have ditched anyways. This was far more interesting, and Ichigo didn't care to be stuck behind a desk learning what he already knew.

Plinio didn't just stop at that though. He wanted Ichigo to know seven languages, specifically Italian. Learning Italian wasn't that hard, what with Plinio constantly slipping back into it or forgetting a word in English and waving his hands around as he described it as best he could. That was also how Ichigo was teaching the other Japanese, it was frustrating sometimes, but hilarious as well.

His favorite was when Plinio forgot the word for cutlery and said "food weapons" instead.

Plinio, however, liked to remind Ichigo about the time he forgot the word for lid and therefore lifted the pot and asked, "Where's his hat?"

Prick.

What with Japanese being his mother tongue, being fluent in both English and Japanese Sign Language, and knowing how to hold a conversation in German, Spanish, and Mandarin, there wasn't too much to work on.

It was a different case when Plinio found out and now demanded that Ichigo learn ten languages. The dictating asshole's lucky that Ichigo liked learning languages, it didn't stop him from taking a few pot shots at the man.

He also had to learn how to handle other weapons, which was a pain. He didn't really see the use of it, but Plinio wouldn't take no for an answer. So, Ichigo just told him as long as he didn't have to use guns or swords, then he'll put up with it.

Plinio had given him a curious look but never questioned it.

"Well, it's a good thing those aren't my forte, but I have to ask… how do you feel about dresses?"

He's tired, but it's easier to handle.

It turns out that Plinio is a doctor, in the loosest sense of the word, hence all the equipment he has. Ichigo's helped out in the clinic and has had years of experience applying aid to himself, so he was familiar with most things. The old man still insisted that he teach Ichigo more in depth, and despite his grumbling, he agreed.

It fascinated Plinio that Ichigo was so well versed in several fields, he had solid foundations, and when he didn't, he picked up the basics real quick. So really, Plinio spent most of the time teaching him advanced techniques on the majority of subjects.

He's always been a fast learner.

A benefit that's allowed him to keep up with Plinio, who was actually impressed at Ichigo's growth rate.

"Quality I'm telling you, absolute quality."

The one thing that Plinio had never needed to train him in was hand-to-hand combat. Ichigo's martial arts background, the Bastard's training, street fighting, and his time as a Shinigami had made him a skilled combatant. It usually resulted in spars at the end of the day that Ichigo won, it was always a pretty close call, but he still won.

One day, Plinio had dragged him to an underground ring several towns over. He had pulled some strings so that they could be on the ground and see the fights up close.

"If there's one thing that I've noticed about your style, it's that you can add what others use into it. So, I had the brilliant thought of bringing you to see some of the shows here and let you figure out what you want to incorporate into your fighting style. A lot better than constantly fighting this old man."

He wasn't wrong. Ichigo was used to learning on the field instead of being traditionally taught, so he usually stole other people's moves that he liked and turned them against his enemies. It also had the advantage of throwing them off, not expecting their own move to be used on them.

He sat through a few. It was mildly entertaining. This seemed to be one of the cleaner ones, but still, Ichigo was desensitized to bloody, brutal fights. Hell, more than once he needed to ensure that his own insides didn't spill out.

He was dragged once more, but this time to the back, where most of the fighters were.

"Oi, old man, what are we doing here?"

"Well see, I knew you had to improve your martial arts, but I ain't know much about that. I know a guy who could teach you, but I don't like sharing, so I couldn't get another instructor for you. Hence..." He waved his hand around the whole area.

Ichigo blinked. "Wait, you mean-"

"Three different fighters. Stops when you knock the other unconscious. I asked for their best ones, but the guys in the booth were a little iffy on that, so we got second best. Don't embarrass me ya here."

"Hold on-"

"Good luck kid! Win us some money!"

He was shoved onto the stage, all eyes on him. The cheers, the jeers, the shouts, just an endless amount of noise. The other guy in the corner, leering at him, the host hyping up the crowd.

He was going to get back at the old man, but in the meantime, well… he always did enjoy a good fight.

He ended up fighting eight guys, the last battle fighting 3 on 1. He became the quickest crowd favorite.

They pulled him off, the screaming of the crowd shaking the arena.

"Kid, have I told you how much I love you."

A feral smile still on his face, Ichigo replied, "You know I'm still getting my revenge."

With a matching grin, Plinio nodded, looking entirely too pleased with himself, "Oh, I know."

If Ichigo's a little lenient later, then that's only because he doesn't regret coming here.

He goes on four more times with increasingly skilled fighters before Plinio puts an end to it. He gets checked over by their on-sight medic while several other "gladiators" come by congratulating him or expressing their disbelief. Even after he gets cleared, Plinio decides to do his own checkup before they start heading out.

The guys in the booth want him to come back, they're sucking up to him, it's amusing. Plinio just gives them his contact details and tells them they'll think on it.

Only then do they actually leave, walking towards the hotel Plinio had booked for the two.

"So, what you think kid?"

"You're an asshole."

Plinio laughs. "Yeah, yeah, it keeps me up at night. Come off it."

"It was alright. Nice workout."

"Workout he says," Plinio shakes his head, smirk on his lips, "The other guys were fighting for their lives, and you go and say it's a workout. Give them some face, eh kid."

Ichigo huffs.

"Want to try again?"

Side eyeing the other, he dryly states, "How much you win tonight?"

"Hey now, I wasn't in it just for the money."

At Ichigo's look, Plinio raises his hands in surrender. "Okay so, it was little about the money. However, I know what type of bloodthirsty brat you are, therefore I thought this was perfect for you."

"Like you aren't either."

"Well," Plinio begins, an evil little grin growing on his face, "Can't disagree with that, but let this old man have his fun. I'm too old to be getting in the ring, betting on the other hand…"

"Oh, now you're old."

Plinio waves him off. "Maybe we should go around hitting up all the rings, see what type of chaos we can cause, bet there will be a few riots."

Plinio probably shouldn't be saying that looking as happy as he does, but Ichigo just rolls his eyes. It's telling when Ichigo doesn't disagree.

First protector.

Demon of Karakura.

Kid.

All too soon the new school year starts.

He feels caged going back to Karakura. He's missed his sisters and Kon, but the freedom he's had these past few weeks has gotten to be a little too tempting. It's a lot harder to come back than it had been.

He's restless. His flames feel a little too close to the surface.

He gets accosted by Tatsu the first day back. She gives him a long searching look and sighs.

"I think you've finally outgrown this place, Ichigo."

He pauses. He never thought of it like that.

"Let's meet up at the river, I think a talk has been long overdue."

He agrees.

His first day of high school, still fifteen for two more months, and he's bored out of his mind.

Ichigo's smart. Not Urahara smart, but able to easily be first in his year smart. Ichigo just doesn't care about things like that. He's not sure why he's shown up, the first day isn't really important. He puts his head down on his desk and dozes off.

He wakes to someone tapping his shoulder. Well, not exactly. He felt them approach and let them do so, he never lets his guard down. A lesson he's never forgotten.

He looks up, it's Mizuiro.

There's this little smirk on his face, eyes bright and knowing.

Ichigo squints.

"Say Ichigo-san, can you answer me why there's been news going around about some Orange Shogun who's come from the heavens to teach the mortals the art of fighting."

He can't help it, he blushes.

Mizuiro laughs at him as he pulls up a chair and settles down next to Ichigo.

"You've certainly been busy over the break."

He scowls.

Perhaps when it comes to underground fights, but he still hasn't found out much about the flames like he was planning to. He's had better luck with Plinio dragging him further out and having better connections than him, but it's not enough.

Keigo pops up.

"Ichigo, how much you win? Bet it was a lot? Did you lose any fights? What were you doing all the way out there? Did you meet any pretty girls?"

He glares at Mizuiro who only smiles genially at him.

He flicks Keigo's forehead to get him to stop asking questions, it works for a moment, except now he's whining about how mean Ichigo is.

Thankfully that's when the teacher entered the classroom forcing the two to go to their seats.

The rest of the morning passed by in a blur.

At lunch Mizuiro and Keigo briefly stopped by, making plans to hang out on Thursday at this new dumpling place that opened. All three ignoring how the others were shooting them glances from the classroom's doorway while trying to pretend they were ignoring them.

Ichigo had noticed a few of their looks this morning and all throughout class, especially from Orihime. He's not sure if it's because of the black bruise on his jaw, Keigo and Mizuiro talking to him, or their own need to play friends.

He hasn't talked to them in months, barely even seen them around. He doesn't care for their little gestures made mostly out of guilt.

They move to leave, but it's Keigo who walks back. He stands there hesitantly, fingers twisting. "I don't really know what's going on between all of you, but I just want to check that we're still good Ichigo? I know I haven't-"

Ichigo raises his hand to stop him, a small smile on his face. "Better go before Mizuiro eats your lunch, Keigo."

The teen blinks at him before grinning softly. "Thanks, Ichigo." Then panic overtook his face. "Shit, he really will eat my food, see you later Ichigo!" He runs off, shoving people out of the way.

Ichigo shakes his head.

First protector.

Demon of Karakura.

Crybaby.

He's at the river, sitting next to Tatsu, pants folded up as the two let their feet soak in the water. It's been silent since she arrived half an hour ago, but neither are in a rush to talk.

"We're friends right Ichigo? You've never stopped being my best friend, it's just now you're not my only one."

Ichigo takes a minute to think about it. She's the only one he's ever been comfortable around despite all that's happened. She's the only one who could pry his secrets and even then, she wouldn't need to because he's already told her. She's the only one who could read him with ease, not even Urahara could do that. Time and distance haven't changed anything. They could go months without talking but meet up again and it's like no time's passed at all. They click in a way he doesn't with anyone else. He trusts her. Trusts. She knows loyalty the way Ichigo breathes it. She's one of his. But she doesn't need to be protected like the others under his care. Not from this.

He lets his masks fall.

He's tired.

Sometimes it gets better, sometimes it gets worse.

He looks at Tatsu, who's patiently waiting, and states the most honest thing he's said in a while. "Yes, best friends forever, remember?"

She throws her head back and laughs and Ichigo is quick to join her.

It's afterwards, after he tells her about his mother's death, his father's beatings, his role as a brother, as a parent to the twins, that something in him relaxes. It's after he tells her about the Shinigami, what he's sacrificed, the abandonment, that it feels like some of his cracks are starting to repair themselves.

Tatsu has always been strong. Has always been the first person he associates with the word. He still thinks so, even as she cries into his shoulder, rage and grief pouring out of her.

Ichigo loves her, like he loves his sisters. But it's different. He can't admit weakness to his sisters, they're relying on him to be the strong one, but with Tatsu… Well, Tatsu remembers the crybaby she used to defend as a child. He really can't ruin his image further in her eyes.

It hurts. In a good way. The fact that someone acknowledges what happened to him was wrong, was fucked up. Someone here is mourning his innocence, his loss. In a way, that's all he's ever wanted. He doesn't regret what's he's done. But for someone to look at him and say he should have never had to gone through that, someone who's angry on his behalf, well…

He hasn't cried since his mom died; he doesn't know what that says about him. Tatsu's crying for him, he thinks that's more than enough.

They've both moved away from the river, lying on the grass, holding hands. She turns to him, face a little red and blotchy, a contemplative frown on her face.

"I wish I could kick the shit out of them, shame I can't even see them."

"I don't know Tatsu, if there's anyone I know who could manifest Shinigami powers out of sheer will, it'd be you."

She rolls her eyes. "I'm not interested in being dragged into their mess so I'd rather not. However, when they're in those body suits, it's fair game."

Ichigo smirks.

"I think… you should move out Ichigo."

He looks curiously at her.

"Even when you were five, you've always had this sense of independence. You didn't like being told what to do, you liked being alone, you liked to wander off. Sometimes I wondered if one day you'd just fly away. After your mom… that part seemed to have died with her. You were only focused on ensuring the happiness of your sisters that you didn't see the way this town had slowly became your cage."

He stares up at the drifting clouds.

"I know you've taken to protecting the town, it's your sisters' home, it's the place where your friends live, but it's filled with bad memories. Maybe in the past, you would have been fine living here till you graduated, till your sisters graduated, but it's not the same anymore."

He's tired.

"This place is suffocating you Ichigo and I'm worried what that'll mean for you. And well… your sisters are old enough to take care of themselves, so I think you should start focusing on yourself before it's too late. A new place, new people, new beginning. Somewhere far away from Karakura."

He looks at her then, unable to say anything.

She smiles at him, knowing anyways. "Think about it Ichigo, we both know Karakura hasn't been your home in a long while."

They split up after that.

Ichigo wanders around Karakura again, running Tatsu's words through his head over and over and over.

The problem is… she's not wrong.

He's never once thought of leaving and settling down somewhere else, even if he's had trouble forcing himself to come back.

He doesn't have as much reason to stay as he does to leave.

Karakura is a cage.

Kurosaki household is a prison.

The Shōten is a collar.

The Gotei is a noose.

Ichigo has never cared for the places, the land, the territory.

What Ichigo protects has always been the people in it, his people.

They are no longer his.

He's lost a lot of what is his, not to the inevitable, but through their choices, their actions.

Each individual string that he thought tied them together as friends has become chains that force Ichigo to lay face down on the ground. Chains so heavy he can't even be on his knees for a semblance of pride.

What does he have left then, here in Karakura?

Memories.

Memories of what used to be.

All tainted.

This is where his mother died.

This is where his father beat him.

This is where he was bullied.

This is where he's almost died.

This is where he's been abandoned.

He's tired.

And he doesn't want to be anymore.

Free.

He wants to be free.

And he will be.

His flames come alive then, almost as if they approve, and Ichigo can't help but grin.

He has a plan to set in motion.

Demon of Karakura.

He arrives back to his warehouse, shoulders lighter than they've ever been, only to see Plinio in all his glory. What an eyesore.

"Hey kid, missed me?"

Ichigo snorts. "With every knife so far."

Plinio bursts out laughing. "Too bad, huh. Well, I made myself at home, hope you don't mind?"

Ichigo rolls his eyes, "Does it even matter, all your stuff is already here."

"Course it matters, you could shuck it all out."

"Is that so?"

"Now, now, peaceful thoughts brat."

Shaking his head, he wanders around the place. He had only occupied a small part of the warehouse, not caring for the other rooms, but in the days since he's last been there, Plinio certainly changed a lot. Separate bedrooms filled with the bare minimum, his bookcase and display case lined up against the wall. An actual fully stocked kitchen as opposed to the bare essential Ichigo used to have and the laughingstock Plinio had.

There was a big area for sparring, a giant mat covering most of the floor, weapons mounted on the walls. A punching bag set up in the corner alongside a wooden dummy. Next to it was the "med bay" or the cheap version of it with both Ichigo's and Plinio's equipment.

He likes it.

"What you think," the asshole asked, smirk on his face.

"Well… you certainly made yourself at home."

"Damn brat! Can't you ever give this old man a compliment?"

Ichigo goes to Mizuiro.

He'd have gone to Plinio for this, but this is a little too personal for him to go to the man.

He thought he was just here to pick up some papers that he texted Mizuiro to help him get, he doesn't think that's the case anymore.

He'd been wondering why Mizuiro would ask him to come over when the teen usually didn't like having anyone over. He's still not sure what this is about.

He settles on the couch across from Mizuiro, it's a nice home, simplistic but comfortable. Perhaps if Ichigo was the type he'd mention it, initiate some small talk. Good thing he's not.

Mizuiro looks as calm as always, but there's this calculative look in his eyes which makes Ichigo cautious.

"Am I your friend, Ichigo?"

Seems like he's having a lot of these talks as of late.

"Yeah, you are," he states, slightly confused. He thought they had already been over this.

"You misunderstand, Ichigo," Mizuiro gently shakes his head, "Am I your friend?"

Oh.

Ichigo gets it now, he leans back, considering.

When he was younger, he had begun to show some signs of… possessiveness. The Bastard hadn't thought much about, believed it to be a phase as a kid, just childish selfishness. His mother though, recognized it for what it was, and thought it would grow worse the older he got. She was right of course.

She had taken to teaching him what was and wasn't acceptable, drew a metaphorical line in the sand that he should never cross. It worked, till it didn't. His mother taught him restraint, taught him limits, taught him loss. She was dead, gone, and so was his control.

What was left was the need to pretend that it was still there. To act as if he still conformed to what was socially accepted.

His sisters knew though. Knew exactly how far he would go for them. Ichigo was kind and merciful by choice, but that didn't mean he was incapable of great cruelty. His sisters didn't find anything strange in that, they didn't mind, didn't care. They accept him, love him, trust him. They knew they were safe with Ichigo no matter what.

Tatsu knew as well. In a way, she was possessive too, just not to the extent of Ichigo. Nor was she as welcoming of people into what she considered hers unlike him. Tatsu's people were only her parents, Orihime, Ichigo, and his sisters. For Tatsu, she did have a point that she refused to cross, she had morals. However, she accepted Ichigo too, didn't mind how far he'd go for them. She knew that Ichigo wasn't unreasonable and trusted him and his decisions.

Chad had only gotten glimpses. He didn't understand, wasn't driven by that same need, but he didn't judge. Ichigo didn't know if Chad realized just how far Ichigo would go for his people, it didn't change that Chad had simply considered it another aspect of him. He may not understand, but he knew Ichigo, trusted him, and that was that.

Ishida had noticed it as well. Thought it was his hollow side. He feared it at first, but Ishida had grown to trust and care for Ichigo, so he got used to it. He still feared it, it just wasn't Ichigo he feared, but what he could do. Ichigo didn't hold it against him, knew it wasn't normal, and was fine with Ishida being wary of his capabilities. It, in a way, kept Ichigo in check.

Orihime didn't really know. He thinks she might have gotten glimpses but hadn't understood what it meant. Not until he lost control of his hollow. She feared it, feared the hollow. Ichigo thinks that if she knew how alike to his hollow he was, knew of his possessiveness, knew what he'd do to protect his, she'd fear him too.

Keigo knew. In the vaguest of ways, for his best friend is Mizuiro. He doesn't understand yet accepts it as a part of Ichigo. He's easily scared, feared Ichigo's reputation before he met him, so he does tremble at the idea of what he can do. At the idea. He doesn't fear Ichigo, no, he considers Ichigo a pillar of safety.

Mizuiro knew. This is why Keigo knew. Not because Mizuiro told him, but because he's just as possessive as Ichigo. He may not have his physical prowess- not that he needs it- to be just as ruthless to protect what's his. It is in this way that Mizuiro and Ichigo click, why they understand each other. Ichigo hadn't thought much about it. It wasn't something either flaunted. Nor had there really been a need to showcase it to anyone. At least, not to the extent that it crossed the line.

Ichigo thinks.

Looks back at everything.

The answer hasn't ever changed.

He raises an eyebrow at Mizuiro, the teen patiently waiting as he sipped his tea.

"You've never stopped being my friend. I've been readjusting, but that has never been in question."

Mizuiro smiles, terribly pleased, possessiveness shinning in his eyes. "I'm glad, Ichigo. Very glad."

He rolls his eyes, but the edges of his lips are twitching.

"Here's the paperwork, it's all cut and dry, you can still read it if you'd like. Sign it, get Kurosaki to sign it, and then just hand them back to me. I'll ensure they get processed in a week."

He's not sure that's how it works, but Ichigo doesn't care.

"There is something else."

This piques his interest.

Mizuiro brings out a sleek black case from under the couch and gently places it on the table in between them. He pushes it towards Ichigo, silent laughter obvious.

Narrowing his eyes, Ichigo carefully opens the case.

Daggers.

Beautiful, high-quality daggers.

Ichigo's impressed.

Ichigo's annoyed.

"You damn- How long have you known?"

Mizuiro smiles into his teacup. "Since you've started using them in fights Ichigo. People are such terrible gossips."

That's the truth.

He picks up one of the daggers, admiring the handiwork, the intricate details.

Then he sees it. His fingers are tracing the pattern, it's carved into the hilt, silver in color. He remembers that there's little that goes on in the yakuza that Mizuiro doesn't know. Remembers that Mizuiro keeps a close ear to the ground specifically when it comes to things that involve Ichigo.

Purple flames.

There's a little fire symbol carved into the dagger.

He looks up, meets Mizuiro's eyes, both of them studying each other.

"You know."

"Depends on what you mean."

"About the flames."

"Vaguely."

"How much is vaguely?"

"Not enough."

Ichigo scowls.

Mizuiro sighs. "I really do only know a little, this isn't a yakuza issue."

"How'd you know that I was looking into it."

"I didn't, not really," Mizuiro began, "this was more of a confirmation. I've known that you've been searching for something, but I wasn't sure what, you're incredibly subtle when you want to be Ichigo."

"You never mentioned it."

"Neither did you."

Ichigo conceded on that point.

"Besides, this isn't a secret that I can share freely without facing the consequences. So, I had to ensure that you actually knew about it as opposed to informing you about something you didn't have any business in."

"Consequences?"

"As I said, I only know very little. It's a mafia secret and they aren't really active in Japan. They have this thing they call the Omertà which is reinforced by mafia police. My contact refused to even mention their name, in fact no one would, they all genuinely fear them," Mizuiro said as he gave him a significant look.

Mafia Police, who enforce the Omertà, that hides the fact that people can use magical fire, okay.

At least they seem to be competent, even if it's working against him this time.

"Seeing as how I had to try to find information based on how much you know, then you understand why I wasn't able to actually gather all that much with everyone's lips sealed shut."

Ichigo understood. It's one thing for him to go around asking, seeing as he can actually manifest the flames. It's another thing entirely for Mizuiro, who only knew the word "flame" to go around asking his informants to risk their safety.

He wonders if flame society has its own version of the Maggot's Nest.

He thinks they do.

He understands their fear.

However, mafia. Italy. Who does he know that's Italian?

"I'll let you know what I find out, I think I might know someone who knows more about it?"

Mizuiro nods before asking with a tiny grin, "Say Ichigo, can I see the flames?"

Huffing he shakes his head. "They melt my weapons."

"So, you need weapons to channel the fire, interesting," Mizuiro states with a gleam in his eye, "Don't worry about that though. My informant ensured me that those weapons could handle the flames. Payment for not being able to answer my questions, bribe so that I would stop pushing."

"I don't really need something to channel it per se, but it's a hell of a lot easier," he says distractedly as he focuses on the daggers.

He's excited.

He grabs one in hand, feels the way the weapon sings in his hand, and he let's go.

Purple flames.

The two teens watch the way the purple fire dances on his dagger, bright and strong.

"Thought it'd be orange, would have matched your hair."

"Fuck you."

First protector.

Demon of Karakura.

He intends to head to the warehouse immediately to interrogate Plinio and finally get some answers. He doesn't get the chance.

He's jumped on the way over. Driven into the cover of the trees.

They're good. They're skilled. They're quality.

He's losing.

Something's wrong.

It feels…

Illusions.

Oh, Ichigo knows illusions.

They've got nothing on Aizen.

He doesn't know how they're doing it, but they're coating the area.

Ichigo doesn't have reiatsu anymore.

He has flames.

He's never done something like this before.

That's fine.

Ichigo has always been a fast learner.

He spreads a thin layer of his flames over the strip, lets the vibrations lead him where his eyes fail him. There's four people this time. They move silently. Assassins.

He picks up the pace.

Blue flames.

He gets scratched by several needles; they're covered in blue flames.

He feels sluggish.

He shoves it aside. Reminds himself not to let the blue flames touch him. And attacks, viciously.

That seems to give them permission to go all out.

There are two illusionists, they play support, they have dark blue flames. The two attacking him have their weapons coated in blue flames, they work well together. They all do, they're a unit. He's not used to people being competent in groups or working together. Shinigami usually fought one on one.

The illusionists are getting frustrated that he isn't falling for their tricks, they've taken to taking pot shots or switching out with the Blues. It's annoying, they cover each other's openings, and take advantage of Ichigo's.

He lets one of the illusions hit him. He gets thrown into a tree. Uses the momentum to twist, push off, and flip right over the group. He takes out one of the illusionists and gets a good hit in for one of the Blues.

Things are now tilted, in who's favor, it's not clear yet.

Much like the reason why they're attacking him.

Three more people join in. All coming from different directions. They seamlessly fit into formation.

Six on one.

He's had worse odds.

Two of the additions have blue flames. The last one has the darker blue.

Are the flames only cool colors? Shades of blue?

His flame is clearly purple. Maybe shades of purple?

He sets that aside; he needs to focus. He needs to be faster, stronger, better.

Ichigo's taken care of two more, both Blue, when it happens.

He doesn't hear it, but instinct takes over.

He dodges the bullet.

He ducks, right into a savage kick.

He doesn't have time to recover before they're on him like piranhas. Ichigo's good enough to avoid the lethal strikes, but any time he tries to leave the circle of death they drag him right back.

He's surrounded.

The shooter's joined the circle. They have Green Flames.

Five on one.

Two blue. Two dark blue. One green.

Green seems to be the most dangerous of the five. Their attacks cut like a sharp blade. He's electrocuted with every hit. They can make a shield to block his attacks.

Added with the constant illusions messing with his perception and blue flames slowing his movements, Ichigo's chances of walking out of here aren't very high. But they aren't zero.

He lets instinct drive him. Let's the blood thirst fill him. Let's a feral smile settle on his lips.

He fights.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Now it's just him and Green.

His flames are begging to be drawn out and Ichigo just might. He doesn't know what the consequences will be, but he's going to need them if he wants to get through Green's barrier.

"Kid! Kid! Where the fuck are you? Kid! Answer me dammit!"

Plinio. Plinio!

He sees Green tense up.

It wasn't him they wanted; it was Plinio. Flames. Mafia. Plinio's mafia. With assassins coming after him.

"Motherfucker!"

He hears wild laughter come from his left as Plinio finally enters the clearing.

"Love you too kid," Plinio huffs, but there's no hiding the way he desperately checks over Ichigo. The way he still keeps a sharp eye on the assassin, keeping his body between Ichigo and Green.

He lets out a shaky breath. He doesn't know what to do with Plinio's concern. Plinio isn't quite his, at the same time, he is, just… different.

"You good?"

He meets Plinio's eyes, sees them darkening with every second Ichigo doesn't answer.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright. The hell you do?" Ichigo pointedly looks at Plinio's injuries, less than Ichigo, but more than he likes.

Plinio rolls his shoulders. "A little bit of this, a little bit of that. Honestly, I think these guys are just too up tight. They need to get laid."

Ichigo snorts.

"Hope you don't mind that I brought a few guests with me, they're not really big on consent."

Doesn't matter if Ichigo minds, seeing as another three join Green right after Plinio finishes saying so.

He moves forward a step before Plinio stops him.

"Sit this one out kid, didn't mean to drag you into my mess."

Plinio's serious, in a way Ichigo hasn't seen before.

"I can handle myself."

"Sit this one out kid, please."

Ichigo blanks. He's usually asked, forced, manipulated into fixing other people's messes. They never want him to sit it out.

Plinio's begging.

Plinio's worried. For him.

Plinio doesn't want Ichigo to get hurt because of him.

Plinio's protecting him. Because he wants to.

Ichigo backs off.

"Thanks kid," Plinio says with a small smile, entirely genuine.

He doesn't let his guard down, daggers at the ready should he be needed, but he lets Plinio handle this on his own.

His flames are restless, waiting, but they don't feel agitated.

Ichigo watches as Plinio finishes off all four. Two green. One blue. One red.

Plinio's got more injuries, but he's the one to walk away, the only one still breathing.

"They've been a pain in my ass all day, let me tell you. It's a good thing I have traps set around or I wouldn't be standing here."

Plinio walks towards him, cautious, as if he's aware that he's on tremulous grounds.

"Shame. Could have kept your equipment if you had kicked the bucket early."

"Rude brat."

They eye each other.

"You don't seem so surprised by... everything."

"I was a little preoccupied with trying not to die then to worry about magical fire."

"Magical fire," Plinio says, horribly amused, "They're call Dying Will Flames."

"Dying Will Flames? That's stupid."

"It's not like I named them."

"And what, there's one of every color?"

"Every color of the rainbow."

"Rainbow magical fire," Ichigo states, unimpressed.

Plinio sighs.

"Let me heal you first before we get more onto this topic, yeah?"

Ichigo raises an eyebrow. "Heal?"

Plinio nods.

Neither move.

"Look kid, you and me, we have trust issues. And you know where that comes from? Trust issues come from being fucked over. I've told you I'm not the swarmy sort, so to put it bluntly, I'm from the Mafia. I'm a part of this group, we're quality, others like to pick us off to show that they're better. The Omertà stops any of us from talking about it, so I didn't keep it a secret just for shits and giggles."

Ichigo says nothing.

"I'm technically on vacation, that's why I'm here till July. It didn't have to be Japan, hitting up these little towns like we've been doing, I chose to stay here. I chose to make sure a certain orange haired brat was up to sniff. Fuck them trust issues. You're one of mine, you understand that don't you."

Ichigo had never been someone's.

Not like this.

Mizuiro and Ichigo may both be possessive, but they have different roles. Ichigo's a protector. Mizuiro's a provider. And Mizuiro has always been more his than Ichigo has ever been Mizuiro's. Same for Tatsu.

Ichigo's the strong one. He's never been the protected. Not since his mother died.

He's never had someone actually call him theirs.

He doesn't know how to feel about it.

Ichigo huffs and he sits down. "Better explain everything, you damn crusty geriatric."

"Rude brat, perhaps I should let you suffer," Plinio grumbles, but there's no denying the relieved smile on his face.

Yellow flames.

It's like Kaidō.

Ever since he first met Rukia, he's associated healing with the color green, the color of Kaidō. Guess the Mafia prefer yellow. It's a change, Ichigo thinks he might like it.

He's studied his flames, noticed the way they flicker and appear almost like smoke. He didn't get a good enough look at the other flames beyond their color, but seeing Plinio's flames, he's curious. These yellow ones are… sparkly.

"Oi, why are your flames glittery? Are they all like that?"

Honestly, this is just reminding him of that magical girl anime with all the sparkles. Do flame users have a version of bankai? Is he going to have a magical transformation?

As if hearing his thoughts, Plinio whacks him on the head. "No, you little shit. These are Sun Flames, so the sparkles are supposed to be somewhat like stars."

"Sun flames," he deadpans.

"You're something else kid, anyone else would be interested in this, and yet here you are criticizing its name," Plinio shook his head in dismay.

"Well, if it didn't appear like some toddler named them, then I wouldn't be noticing how dumb it sounds. What are the other flames called anyways?"

"The blue ones are Rain Flames-"

"Oh, why not Neptune flames?"

"-the green ones are Lightning Flames-"

"Creative."

"-the indigo ones are Mist Flames-"

"I kind of like that one."

"-and the red ones are Storm Flames."

"Storm? The hell does the red flame do that makes it be called storm of all things."

"You're killing me here, kid, you're killing me."

"Good."

"Look all the flames are named after the seven weather phenomena in the sky and there's all this poetic shit or what not, it makes sense alright."

Ichigo gave him a skeptical look but lets the topic drop.

He's somewhat healed, enough that it's more like he's been in a scuffle, so Plinio moves onto healing himself. It's a weird thing to see the older man glow yellow, especially with the crossed legs, it's like looking at Buddha.

There's an entire wave of storm flames that come their way. Both Ichigo and Plinio take cover behind the trees. He watches as the flames devastate the entire clearing.

He thinks he might understand why they're called storm flames now.

They burn, worse than fire. As if they're disintegrating everything it touches. Ichigo can't help but be impressed, these are some actual flames.

They dwindle away, unlike real fire, which spreads unless it's stopped.

"Kid-"

"Force me to sit out again and you won't have to worry about these assassins anymore."

First protector.

Plinio raises his hands in surrender. "I was just going to say, you take the right, I take the left."

Ichigo grins.

"Whoever takes out more buys the other katsudon?"

"Brat. You're on."

It's going well, Ichigo and Plinio are even so far. He doesn't know what to think about the fact that groups keep coming after Plinio, and by extent, Ichigo. This seems almost excessive.

"Oi."

"I know, I know. Even I'm a little confused, I ain't worth this much."

There's a rain of bullets heading their way, Plinio grabs Ichigo and books it.

"Maybe they got me confused with someone else," Plinio yells.

Ichigo, running next to the other, stumbles. "Does this fucking look like a case of mistaken identity?"

"Rude! I mean, I've just been training you these past few months, I was chilling with a bunch of nobodies before that-"

"Plinio!"

"I'm thinking kid! I haven't done anything that would make anyone this pissed at me!"

Ichigo scowls.

He abruptly stops, turns around, grabs one of the assassins and judo flips him. He's on the other before they can react, placing one dagger at their throat, and one at their crotch. "Tell me why you're after us," he says darkly.

The assassin's eyes are blown wide as he stares at Ichigo.

With Plinio watching Ichigo's back, eyes just as cold, the assassin speaks.

"I can't believe you."

"To be fair, I don't believe it either."

Ichigo glares at him.

"Come on kid, have some faith in me. You really think I'd do something like that, the timelines don't even match up. I was in Japan when that happened, and unless I can be in two places at once, then I wasn't in Italy fucking over the Breve Famiglia."

"Well, they certainly believe so."

"Yeah, someone's got a grudge against me if they decided to get an entire Famiglia to finish me off. I didn't know I was so popular these days."

"Eat shit."

The assassins are petering out, he doesn't know if that's a good thing or not.

They've been fighting for a few hours, the sun's already set.

"You know, they accounted for me."

Plinio pauses.

"Ah, so you noticed that too. There hasn't been anyone watching us though."

"Don't think they need to. People are such gossips around these parts."

Plinio grimaces. "The rings."

Ichigo sighs. Then again, they may have accounted for Ichigo, but not his fighting prowess. Judging by some of the agitation that the assassins give off, they thought this would be over with already. They underestimated Plinio's traps, Ichigo's ability, and both of their intelligence.

Plinio's taken to using his flames, but he won't last much longer. He's spending too much energy to both heal and attack.

Ichigo hasn't manifested his flames beyond using them as a radar. He hasn't needed them, but he's ready to use them, despite his exhaustion.

They have to finish this soon.

Seems like he wasn't the only one to think so.

They're deeper in the forest, barely able to see with what little moonlight that shines through. That doesn't stop them from realizing they're trapped from all sides. They stand back-to-back.

"Don't die on me kid."

"Worry about yourself old man."

They've taken out more than half when they're cornered. They're on their last legs, but neither are giving up.

Plinio takes a hit to the chest for Ichigo, he coughs up blood.

First protector.

He knocks back the assassin before he can do anymore damage, brings out a kunai and swings.

Purple flames.

The clearing's illuminated by bright purple flames.

His one kunai has multiplied till there's several dozen flying at high speeds towards all the remaining assassins. It's unexpected.

They lay still on the ground, red slowly surrounding them.

He turns to Plinio who just facepalms, disbelief written all over him.

"Of course, you're a fucking cloud."

He's unamused.

Plinio shakes his head. "I'm starving, let's eat first, then we can figure out all this…" He waves his hand between the two, just as exhausted as Ichigo.

He nods. "You're paying."

"Kid. I'm practically dying here."

"Who's fault-"

"Yeah, yeah, you brat."

He's tired.

It's the next day, Ichigo's ditched class again, he doesn't care. Mizuiro texts him as does Keigo. He tells them he's alright, just didn't feel like showing up. They leave it at that. Doesn't stop them from sending a few texts throughout the day, complaining about classmates, work, and teachers. It's entertaining.

He's thankful, that despite what happened yesterday, his bag with his belongings was unharmed. He dropped it somewhere along the way and when he went out to find it, it was there, untouched, and dirty. He's glad it wasn't stolen, he would have made Plinio pay for the replacement, who'd then complain for hours on end.

The one good thing is that he finally gets his explanation on Dying Will Flames.

Seven flames, named after the weather. Each with their own attributes. High density energy that comes from their life force. Manifests because of one's emotions and resolve. The purer the flame, the stronger it is. Not everyone has the ability to use it and those who can aren't always active.

If one can use flames, then they're an active user. If one has flames, but can't access them, they're inactive users. If they don't have flames, then they're-

"-trash."

Ichigo raises an eyebrow. "You guys don't have a name for those without flames?"

"Eh, not really. If they ain't in the mafia, then they're civilians. If they mafia, but ain't got no flames, well… I've heard a few say non-flame users, but we ain't actually got a name for them. They just mafia I suppose."

He learns that it's only strong flame users that are able to light their hands on fire. Even then, no one can handle them for long, they're usually used as a last-ditch option. That's why everyone fights with some sort of weapon. Or, as he's learned, something that they can channel their flames through, seeing as Plinio's fought against someone using a wrench. It's why the concept of rings are highly important, not only in mafia history, but because they make it easier to access your flames, to control them. Weapon or not.

"The only problem is the ring has to be able to handle the purity of your flames. You have a ring with a lower level of purity, that shit is going to break fast. Judging by your flames, you're going to have to get a high-level ring, which is incredibly hard to get."

Ichigo hums. So, a ring's like an asauchi, just rare. He's never needed one before, he thinks he can make do.

Then, there's the cloud situation. Storm, Lightning, and Rain are the most common flame types. Followed by Mist and Sun. Sky users are extremely rare, usually are blood descended, and are highly sought after, no matter their strength.

Cloud users aren't as rare, but they aren't common either. One doesn't get to meet Clouds often because they don't usually live long.

"The hell you mean they don't live long?"

Plinio sighs. "Clouds are territorial, so they fight to protect what's theirs even if they are outclassed. So, a lot of Clouds die from fights before they're thirty. Then of course, there's many that don't really understand how Clouds operate. They try to force them into their famiglia, which sets off Clouds and well... Clouds rather die than be collared. Which is another thing, if they're captured for one reason or another, they fight against their chains so much they end up killing themselves. And this is if they reach their majority."

"Their majority?"

"Yes, flames can get tainted so to speak. We call this discord. It's when your flames fight against you because you suppress them. This happens because it's hard for Clouds to adjust to societal norms, especially with parents not understanding, teachers making it worse, and peer pressure to fit what's normal. And since flames are connected to your emotions, they get affected. Say a Cloud gets depression, their flames fight against the "enemy," resulting in a Clouds physical body shutting down. Therefore, many Clouds die before they reach adulthood."

Ichigo says nothing.

"Even if a Clouds flames don't reject them, sometimes the pressure is still too much. They get too agitated, too restless, too feral. Leading to suicide, homicide, or violent tendencies. Course, now they're in jail, caged. So, either they die by fighting fellow inmates, or committing suicide. It's just a vicious cycle, kid."

He's tired.

He wonders what would have happened to him if he didn't have his sisters. They've anchored him, but he knows the way his shoulders have slumped throughout his life. Wonders what would have happened if he didn't get his life together after he was abandoned. Would he have had the strength to still be here today?

He finds it sad how he can relate so much to what Plinio is saying. A part of him wants to cry for the other Clouds that aren't so lucky, but he's just so tired.

It also brings a sense of comfort; in that he isn't alone. That in this, he isn't different, its everyone else who just can't, won't understand. He doesn't know if that's fucked up or not.

Plinio eyes him, concern visible. "Guess I didn't really need to explain, did I, Ichigo."

He closes his eyes.

They sit in silence for a long while. He's thinks it's here, with Plinio at his side, and parts of him laid at their feet that he might be healing. Not completely, doesn't know if it's possible, but it's a start. Progress.

He doesn't stay at the warehouse that night.

He goes back to the house.

Yuzu's settled on the couch, watching one of her dramas, she looks up as he enters.

"Onii-san?"

Ichigo smiles softly. "Move over, yeah?"

Yuzu grins. She sits up, lets him get comfortable before she lays her head on his lap. "You came at just the right time, Onii-san. I just started the first episode."

"Oh? What's this one about?"

"Zombies!"

Ichigo blinks. "Should you be watching it this late? Don't you get nightmares?"

"It's only 7! Besides, it's not nightmares, it's just strange dreams."

"Strange dreams, huh," Ichigo huffs.

Yuzu's pouting. "I don't get it! I'm not scared of zombies and I'm perfectly fine watching them. Well, until I go to sleep, then it's like my subconscious makes everything so much worse."

He takes the remote. "Okay then, let's watch something else."

"Onii-san!"

"I think I'm in the mood for romance."

Yuzu's eyes brighten as she snatches back the remote. "Hold on, someone gave me this really good recommendation, you're going to love it."

Look at that, it still works.

He doesn't have anything against romance shows, but he's also not particularly interested in them either. However, Yuzu always tries to get him to watch them, so he uses it against her. Sometimes she's aware of it, yet she still falls for it because of how much she wants to see Ichigo's reactions.

Karin comes downstairs, not knowing that Ichigo's there.

She freezes at the sight of him.

Ichigo raises an eyebrow.

She only curls into herself.

He glances at Yuzu, but she's pointedly turned her nose up, ignoring Karin.

She must have talked to Karin.

He turns back to Karin; she looks so tiny and sad. He sighs.

"Come over here Karin, we can both take turns insulting the characters and their stupid decisions."

She giggles lightly before looking at Yuzu who continues avoiding eye contact.

Ichigo nudges the little brat. It's not like she's ever been able to stay mad at her twin for long.

Yuzu lets out a long, dramatic groan. "Fine, you're forgiven. Bring the fluffy blanket from upstairs though."

Karin runs up and back down real quick before she's squeezing in between Ichigo and the couch's armchair.

"I'm sorry, Ichi-nii."

Ichigo gently bops her on the head. "Think nothing of it, you're going to hurt yourself otherwise."

Yuzu brought her blanket up to muffle her giggles.

Karin began poking his side repeatedly, "You asshole!"

Ichigo tried twisting away, slapping at her hand. "Oi! Stop, you brat! And what have I told you about cursing!"

"You cuss!"

"Yeah, because I'm older!"

"And!"

"And that means you don't get to curse! Not till your eighteen!"

"You cussed at my age!"

"Older sibling privileges!"

"I call-"

"We about to call the Funeral Home if you don't watch your mouth child."

Yuzu burst out laughing. Looking at each other, Karin and Ichigo quickly joined her.

They settled down, Yuzu once more lying on the couch, head on his lap. Karin curled up under his arm, blanket thrown over the two of them.

His heart aches.

He loves them so much.

First protector.

Older brother.

In the morning, they fall into a routine they haven't had since Yuzu learned how to cook. He wakes the twins up, sends them upstairs to get ready, while he makes a quick breakfast. When that's done, he packs the girls their bentos before moving to get ready himself. They all come down at the same time, sit at the table to eat, teasing and joking with each other.

They grab their bags as Ichigo gently shoves them out the door from where they're dawdling. He walks them to school, the two of them clinging to his arms.

They stop at the school gate, the other students barely even glancing at them. They're used to Ichigo, don't fear him despite his reputation. Bit hard to when they've seen him dropping off the twins, hugging them goodbye, even if it's been awhile. They at least know Ichigo won't hurt any of them.

"Onii-san?"

He looks at his sisters, sees the worry in their eyes, and smiles softly. He gathers the two in his arms, kisses the crown of their heads.

"Everything's fine. We'll talk more later."

"It's nothing bad, right?"

"No. No, it isn't, but there's going to be a… change."

The girls' glance at each other. "A good change?"

Ichigo shrugs. "Maybe."

Yuzu decisively nods. "Okay then, Nii-san, see you later!"

Trust. She's always trusted his word, no matter what.

Karin looks at him then, eyes narrowed. "Better watch it Ichi-nii, or I'm going to take your kneecaps."

Ichigo snorts. "Little shit. Go before you're late."

She scowls but runs off anyways.

Karin had always been more skeptical, but no less trusting.

It's later that he sits them down to talk.

After he's pick them up from school. Taken them out to eat. Hung out at the ice cream shop.

He leads them back to the house, knowing that the Bastard wasn't home, so he had no worry about him interrupting.

They've made a fort. He lets them get comfortable as he settles in front of them.

He's not sure how to start.

His sisters deserve the truth.

"I… am no longer at home, here in Karakura. There are too many bad memories and I'm sure you've noticed my interactions with the others, or lack of it. I've talked to Tatsu, and she agrees with me that… leaving might be the best option for me."

The girls watch him with wide, watering eyes.

"I want to make it clear that this is in no way your fault. I love you and you are mine to protect, so if you ever need me, I'll come straight back. I-"

He's interrupted by Yuzu throwing herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, sobbing into his shoulder. Karin jumps right in, almost knocking him over.

His sisters are crying. They are crying because of him.

He hugs them fiercely in return. "Girls?"

Karin pulls back enough to grin at him, tears still falling. "Don't worry about us, Ichi-nii, we're just so happy for you."

He blinks.

"Onii-san, we've always been concerned over you. You put us before yourself every time and we love you for that, knowing just how much we're cared for, but… what about yourself Onii-san? If you're so busy taking care of us, then who's there for you? You never come to us, only had yourself to rely on, but you took hit after hit for us. We can't help, not in all the ways you do for us, but Onii-san, we want you happy too! We-"

Yuzu broke out in sobs.

Karin sucked in a deep breath. "Ichi-nii, you're always getting hurt for us, or for people who don't appreciate you like they should. So.. so, if leaving helps you, then we're happy. Because finally, finally you're trying to protect yourself. We know you love us, know if we ever need help you'll be there, but it's okay to focus on yourself now. You've let us grow safely under the cover of your arms, now you need to heal Ichi-nii, and you've ensured that we can take care of ourselves."

"We'll still miss you Onii-san," Yuzu began with a watery smile, "I expect texts every day, two phone calls a week, and a video call once a week, okay?"

Karin snorts, wiping her nose on Ichigo's sleeve. "Expect a lot of calls from me because I'm still going to need your help with English. And someone to complain to when my teammates are being stupid."

Ichigo tucks the two under his chin, hiding how bright his eyes are. "I'm going to miss you too, you brats." And if his voice cracks, then that's for them to know and no one else.

The week passes by pretty quickly after that.

He interacts more with the girls, with Kon, gets up to speed with everything that he's missed. Even on the Shinigami half. Karin had faltered at first, glancing at Ichigo to see if he was fine with it, when he didn't look fazed she carried on as if nothing happened. Kon giving his own inputs.

He didn't mind knowing about what's going on. Ignorance led to harm.

Except, now it was like when Mizuiro used to tell him about yakuza politics on the rooftop. It was interesting sure, but it wasn't important to him, and he was only distantly invested on the happenings.

The only thing he cared about was the safety of Karin.

"I'm okay, Ichi-nii. Urahara makes sure that I have all these protections on hand and that I never go after hollows by myself. I'm pretty he still follows me even then, so that way I'm never alone or handling something outside my capabilities."

He's doesn't know how to feel about that. He thinks Urahara may have cared for him at the end, so he understands that Getaboshi might be doing this as a favor for Ichigo. And a combination of guilt.

He feels a little grateful for the care he's put into protecting Karin. It is in this, that he lets some of his old hurts go. Besides, Getaboshi has always helped him when Ichigo asked, and had never lied about the risks when things started going south.

He hangs out with Mizuiro and Keigo, talks to them more often. They eventually go to the dumpling place they agreed on before, it doesn't disappoint.

Mizuiro may have gotten him the paperwork to get things moving, but he still tells the two his plans.

Keigo's sad that he's leaving but doesn't try to convince him otherwise. He does demand that they start meeting up more so that Ichigo doesn't forget about him.

"You don't understand Ichigo. Long distance relationships never work. You'll forget my voice, then my face, and then me entirely!"

"Don't be ridiculous. Besides, why is it that you're concerned about me forgetting?"

"Ichigo, you barely remember people's faces, let alone their names. If anyone's forgetting, it's you."

He scowls.

"He's not wrong, Ichigo," Mizuiro states, laughter in his voice, "I'll still be sure to keep you up to date. And we'll definitely like to hear about what type of trouble you get into over there."

Keigo snickers.

He flips the two off.

He meets up with Tatsu sometimes. With both their busy schedules, it's not often, but they don't need it to be. She's also got an open invitation to hang out with him, Kon, and his sisters, which usually ends up being a girl's night. With Ichigo being an honorary girl.

"I think we should put him in a wig, it'd make everything more realistic."

"I don't know Karin," Tatsu said smirking, "With a face like that, it'd be more like looking at a hairy monkey's ass."

"I'm going to shove my foot in your face if you don't shut your mouth Tatsu."

"Don't move Onii-san! You're making me mess up your nails!"

He shares a commiserative look with Kon who's being used as a pin up doll while the three girls exchange grins.

Ichigo continues training with Plinio, with the addition of learning how to use his flames. They still hit up underground fighting rings and dodge assassination attempts.

"I'm trying to solve it, okay brat. It's a little hard with me being here and the cause being in Italy."

"Then just go back to Italy," he deadpans.

"You know how hard it is for me to go on vacation, I ain't cutting it short just do deal with this bullshit. You ain't getting rid of me that easily."

"Shame."

He avoids the kick with practiced ease.

He waits for the weekend to confront the Bastard.

Waits till the girls are out and won't be coming home any time soon.

Waits for Kon to leave but informs him that he wishes to talk to him later.

First protector.

Demon of Karakura.

Delinquent.

Isshin comes bursting out of the clinic door, clearly expecting no one to be home. The Bastard blinks at him before grinning. "Ichigo! Haven't seen you around in a while, out getting them girls aren't you?"

He hasn't the Bastard in months, not besides the rare passing glance. Ichigo wasn't expecting anything different; he knows how the Bastard operates.

"No, Goat-face, I need you to sign something."

This time Isshin looks bewildered. Understandable. Ichigo's been forging the man's signature since he was nine, for himself and his sisters. Goat-face isn't as stupid as he pretends, so he must know, but seeing as he hasn't signed anything for his kids even before Masaki died this is throwing him off.

Isshin rubs the back of his head, "Is it-"

"Just sign it Goat-face."

He intends on keeping this as short as possible.

The Bastard frowns slightly, "Alright, let me read it first. For all I know you're making me sign my life away."

Ichigo says nothing.

He watches though, as the Bastard reads the first paper, face falling. Isshin flips through the rest of the papers before coming back to the first rereading it. He doesn't meet Ichigo's eyes.

Ichigo has never been a coward, but when it came to him, Isshin was always one.

The Bastard continues looking at the papers as he solemnly states, "I suppose this was a long time coming."

If he's hoping for sympathy from Ichigo, he's all out of it.

Isshin signs it.

His flames are still right under his skin.

Ichigo leans back in the chair. He pulls on all the coldness he knows he's gotten from Ossan, his frigid disdain. He lets his eyes darken with all the vicious rage of Zangetsu, venom coloring his tone.

"This…"

Goat-face's head snaps up.

"Doesn't mean that you get to hurt the girls."

"I-"

Ichigo focuses on Isshin, some part of him distantly pleased at the way the older man's face pales.

"You will not harm them. You will not so much as raise your voice at them. They are your first and only priority. I do not care if you have to fight a grandma on the street, Urahara at his worst, or even the fucking Captain-Commander and the entire Gotei. You will protect them, Isshin."

Isshin turns somber, seriousness lining his very being. It is here that Ichigo can finally see the man the Shinigami respected, the Captain of the Tenth Division, Head of the Shiba Clan.

Isshin agrees, easily, readily, like there never could've been any other answer.

And that, at least, Ichigo can trust. When it comes to the girls, the Bastard has always tried his best to be a good father for them. Was he? Who's to say? Does trying at least make up for the large number of mistakes he's made and all his flaws?

Even if he was trying for the girls, he never did for Ichigo, and the twins saw that. When their family was still whole, Isshin had the tendency to focus on his sisters forgetting about him often. Ichigo hadn't cared too much for that, all he needed was his mother, and that was enough.

Ichigo sometimes wondered if Isshin didn't treat him as his son because he only saw him as the weapon he was going to be. Wondered if Isshin feared the darkness he must have known was in Ichigo and therefore couldn't see anything but a monster.

When he was feeling kind, he sometimes wondered if Isshin didn't want to get attached, burdened with the knowledge that his son wouldn't meet his majority, guilt dragging him down. That occurred few and far between.

He gets up to leave, papers in hand, when he's stopped at the entrance.

"For what it's worth, your mother would be incredibly proud of the man you are today, Ichigo."

For what it's worth, Ichigo doesn't slam the door.

First protector.

Older brother.

He's at the warehouse, Plinio's out setting up new traps, when Kon enters.

"Ichigo! Why do you live so far, especially in this dump? Do you know how far I had to walk to get here? Look at me, I'm dirty! Yuzu-hime is going to throw me into the wash again! I hate that damn washer!"

Ichigo rolls his eyes. "My bad, my bad. Would you prefer it if she hand washed you?"

Kon shivers, "That's so much worse, you asshole. I see your smirk, you better watch you're back from now on, Ichigo!"

Ichigo's thought about Kon and how he fits into their family. At first he was a perverted annoyance that he begrudgingly wanted to help. Being a mod soul sounded so horrible, so lonely. Then, Kon seemed to settle down, comfortable at least with him and the girls.

Karin knows what he is and has taken to messing with the other as she does Ichigo. Meaning she's a little shit who likes to troll and insult them. She and Kon are alike in that way and are constantly butting heads. Ichigo and Yuzu have to pull the two apart sometimes before Karin punts Kon across the room.

Yuzu didn't know for a long while, but she does now. After sincerely apologizing, she's taken to both being there for Kon and manipulating him to doing as she asks. And she only pulls that on people she considers close to her. However, when they work together, they get blackmail on a lot of people, making the two little demon-spawn laugh as they reap the benefits.

When all three gremlins work together, Ichigo's a mixture of proud and impressed, and exasperated and unamused.

He knows what his sisters think of Kon.

He's never put a name to it, but he's going to now.

Guess he has three siblings.

He picks Kon up, sets him down on his pillow as Ichigo sits crossed leg at the end of the bed.

Grumbling, Kon asks, "This better be important. I practically walked the Death March to get here."

"What a drama queen," Ichigo mutters.

He interrupts Kon's indignant protests with small apology, who then quiets.

"I'm leaving."

"Oi, I thought this was important."

Ichigo can't help but smile at Kon's glare. "I mean, I'm leaving Karakura. Moving houses, moving schools, moving towns."

Kon freezes. "Like we're all leaving? Or…"

"Just me Kon, just me."

Kon looks so lost. "But… but…."

"I don't want to continue living here, not with… everything that's happened. Make no mistake Kon, if you or the girls need me, I'll come right back. You're all mine, no matter how far away I am."

Kon looks at him, eyes understanding, yet so vulnerable.

"I don't- I…"

"Kon, for all that you annoy me sometimes. You're family."

He watches Kon's eyes widen.

"You're my brother, Kon. Mine and Yuzu's and Karin's. You're a Kurosaki."

Kon cries, frantically wiping his face. Voice breaking as he tries to pass it off as if something got in his eye. "Don't joke about that, Ichigo!"

He softly shakes his head. "I wouldn't. Does it look like I am?"

Kon throws himself at Ichigo, sobbing into his shoulder. He attempts to speak, to say anything, but nothing comes out, Ichigo knows though. He gently gathers Kon in his arms, letting the other cry it out.

"I'll protect our sisters, Nii-san, while you're away," Kon says earnestly.

Ichigo lets the edges of his lips curl up. "Don't forget to take care of yourself, alright Kon."

The other nods before looking sadly down at his stuffed body. "I'm not sure how much I can do like this, though."

"Don't worry about it," Ichigo begins, "I have a plan for that."

Kon only looks at him in confusion, happiness still blatantly obvious.

First protector.

He's walking an old path that he hasn't in months when the Shōten comes into view.

It doesn't hurt to see, not like it once did.

He's barely stepped foot onto the grounds when Tessai comes out of the shop. He's uncomfortable, probably at having to kick Ichigo out again like a stray dog. That's fine, Ichigo isn't here to chat.

"Ah, Kurosaki-dono I don't-"

"Hey Tessai, do you mind giving this to Getaboshi?"

Tessai takes the letter, nodding slowly. "Yes, I'll personally had this over to the Tenchō."

"Great, thanks Tessai."

He walks away, leaving the man bewildered.

He never sees how Urahara was right next to Tessai, studying Ichigo with pained eyes.

Faster than expected, the month ends, and Ichigo's day to finally leave arrives.

He's already said his goodbyes.

There had been a lot of tears at his going away party yesterday and just as many smiles.

He's itching to go, but he relaxes himself. Enjoys a small breakfast as Plinio rushes around the warehouse.

"Packing already."

"Course, the plane leaves in a few hours."

"Then shouldn't you have packed the day before."

Plinio waves him off.

"And your equipment, can I take it? I'm sure you have better stuff in Italy."

"Not on your life. Yes, but this still cost me a pretty penny. And why aren't you ready?"

Ichigo blinks. "The hell you mean?"

Plinio glares at him. "You're coming with me to Italy."

"First off, the hell you mean. Secondly, I thought you were determined to remain on vacation?"

"Oh, I just ain't telling them I'm back in Italy that way I don't have to shorten my vacation. And I mean, you're coming with me to Italy, what's so hard to understand, kid."

"I don't-"

"I talked-"

"You never told me."

Plinio stared blankly at him. "Huh, guess I forgot to mention it. Either way, better get ready, kid, plane leaves at one."

"I start my first day at a new school on Monday, Plinio," Ichigo stresses.

"Eh, what does it matter, you'll catch up anyways. What's wrong with missing a month of school?"

"A month?"

"Are you telling me you don't want to go to Italy?"

Ichigo glares at Plinio's smug face but goes to get ready anyways.

Prick.

---

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