Halcyon (adj): used to denote an idyllic and peaceful period of time already past.
Ichigo had shoved a bunch of half-baked reasons down his cousin Kaien's throat for why he'd decided to stop by after school, and even he was a little embarassed by how pathetic they sounded.
In reality he shouldn't have felt like he needed an excuse to drop in on his favourite cousin uninvited, but old habits died hard (if at all), and it seemed just random enough to need to be justified.
"So what really brings my favourite little cousin over to the apartment on a school day?" Kaien's lips quirked up into a smile. "Come on, Ichigo, I know that look on your face. Is there something you want to talk about?"
Ichigo's apparent lack of any acting skills whatsoever were coming back to bite him in the ass once again, it seemed. At this rate half of Karakura would know something was up with him before the month was out.
"What look?"
"The look of when you're trying to hide something, but instead of putting on a cheery façade your face settles into one of those scowls." He laughed.
"Am I really that easy to read?"
"Don't sweat it," Kaien said with a smile. "It's nice to see you regardless of what the initial reason was."
"How are things going in the new apartment?" Ichigo was leaning on a shelf next to the terrarium that held Nejibana, Kaien's pet gecko. He enjoyed watching her little tongue dart out to taste the air, curious and carefree.
"Well, you know, it's a steep learning curve, but it's nice to have a space away from my little siblings." Kaien gave Ichigo a knowing wink. "Not being on the receiving end of Kukaku's ability malfunctions has been a nice change."
"I can imagine. I guess having wild and uncontrollable abilities runs in the family, huh?"
"I suppose it does. Speaking of, have you been having any luck on yours?"
Ichigo shrugged. "I wouldn't call it luck if every lesson ends with a cloud of smoke."
"Ah, well, I have faith you'll pull it together. Everyone does in the end."
"Assuming that I don't get taken away before I pull it together." Ichigo's mood darkened a little bit, turning back to watch Nejibana's cheerful disposition as a way to combat the growing unease in the pit of his stomach.
"Well, we all hope it doesn't come to that. But I don't think we want to dwell on that for too long, anyway. How is everything else on your end? Still getting on well with your friends?"
Ah, Kaien had just handed Ichigo the perfect opportunity to both ask a question he wasn't sure how to answer and provide an excuse for his visit.
"Actually, there was one particular thing I wanted to ask you about. If it's okay and all that."
"Go on. Shoot."
"You've had pretty good luck with Miyako so far, right?"
Kaien nodded. "She's wonderful. I can't believe I've gotten so lucky, honestly. I could come down tomorrow with a transformative curse and she'd still stick by my side like glue."
Ichigo couldn't help but wince at his cousin's particular choice of words, something that didn't go unnoticed: Kaien shot him a glance that held a bit of concern.
"You okay, Ichigo?"
"Yeah. Headache, that's all." And it really was the truth; his headache hadn't let up since the day after he'd gotten his diagnosis from Unohana.
He didn't seem wholly convinced, but kept going after Ichigo refused to elaborate.
"Anyway, she's absolutely brilliant. Why do you ask? I wasn't aware of you ever having a girlfriend of your own."
"I don't." Ichigo shifted uncomfortably, hand slowly drifting to the side of Nejibana's terrarium. "That's…kinda what I wanted to ask you. I've been crushing on this friend of mine for—well, longer than I should probably admit, and I keep telling myself to bite the bullet and ask already. Problem is, I have no idea how."
"Ahh, young love." Kaien laughed. "I should have known that's why you dropped in so suddenly.
"Young love? Kaien, you're only six years older than I am."
"And that's six years I've had to practice romance. Never fear, little cousin, I'm here to answer all your questions."
"All right." Ichigo dropped his hand from the glass side of the terrarium into his pocket, preparing himself. "So first of all, how do I go about telling them I'd like for us to go out on a date without absolutely ruining our friendship and making me seem like a clingy weirdo?"
"You worry too much, Ichigo. I'm sure the worst she could do is turn you down gently."
"But then what if it makes our relationship more, I dunno, awkward?"
Kaien sighed. "My best advice is honestly to just hope for the best and plan for the worst case scenario only if it happens, okay, little cousin? Sometimes I think you worry too much."
Ichigo probably did worry too much, but considering the last week surely he was allowed.
"Incidentally, which one of your friends is it? I don't know them very well, but I've seen them around enough to recognize them." Kaien's grin became a little bit teasing. "Let me guess—it's the short one with the black bob?"
The guess caught him off guard. "Rukia? Oh, no, she's a great friend, but I never had a crush on her. It's…uhm…" He hadn't noticed when he'd started stroking Nejibana, her scales soft under his hands and oddly soothing. "You know the guy with the long, shiny black hair? Always dresses like a thirty-year-old college professor? Has these pretty, sparkly, intelligent dark eyes behind his silver-framed glasses?" Ichigo could feel the heat rising in his cheeks at his attempt to describe the unfathomably vast beauty of Uryū Ishida.
"Ah." Kaien nodded. "That makes sense, actually. I don't know why I ever even pegged you as the girlfriend sort in the first place. Maybe don't tell Uncle Isshin, just to be safe, 'cause he might blow a fuse, but your secret's secure with me. And as for this apparently ravishingly cute friend of yours? Just be yourself, Ichigo. If he's already your friend, that means he must like something about you. Keep it up and it should all be fine."
"Thanks." Ichigo felt his mouth curve into a little smile, even if his ears were still hot from his confession. "I really hope so. And…how did you know that Miyako was the one for you?"
"Easy, now. We're not engaged or anything," Kaien said, but it was clear from the look on his face he felt that they might be someday. "That being said, though, she just makes me happy. I can't really describe it. You just know when you feel it."
"That's not helpful!" Ichigo's sudden rise in pitch made Nejibana whimper and scurry out from under his hand, although already she seemed like she was contemplating returning for the gentle strokes. "How am I supposed to just know?"
"I don't know what to say, kid. Although it seems to me you've got no shortage of feelings for this guy."
"I guess."
"And how about this: when you ask him out, because I'm telling you right now beating around the bush isn't going to do you any favours, I want to hear how it goes. Excruciating detail is preferable. Deal?"
"Yes, Kaien, I'll come over the day after and tell you all about it," Ichigo told him with an eyeroll. "Even if I doubt we'll so much as hold hands. You think I'm emotionally constipated, well, Uryū could beat me in a contest any day."
"Is that so?" Kaien barked suddenly with laughter. "Oh, I can't wait to see that. Sounds like you two are a perfect match."
"I damn well hope so," Ichigo muttered, Nejibana returned under his hand for more gentle scratching. She was usually friendly to him, but today seemed almost uncharacteristically so. He didn't really mind, though; her scales were cool to the touch. Shame his curse would probably end up with him growing fur out of half the pores on his body. Scales seemed like less upkeep.
Which reminded him…
"I had another question I was going to ask you, Kaien. Nothing serious or anything, just out of curiosity."
"Shoot. I'm guessing it's not another chapter in the Emotionally Unintelligent Love Life of Ichigo Shiba?"
Ichigo swatted at Kaien in the air. "Absolutely not. And don't you dare call it that."
"It's true," Kaien said with a shrug. "Anyway, what was it you wanted to ask?"
"Like I said, it's all purely hypothetical."
"Am I going to hear your question or are we going to spend the next half hour beating around the bush?"
"Yeah. Fine. I was wondering if you knew anything about…" Ichigo trailed off briefly, still hesitant to utter the words even after a whole week of them rattling inside his head. "Transformative curses?"
Kaien looked startled. "What brought that on? Was it because of my comment earlier? That was a joke, Ichigo. I don't have a curse, and even if some asshole decided to curse me next week I'd be able to get it cured."
"I was just curious!" Ichigo couldn't help the defensive tone creep into his voice. "You know, hard to not hear things. Especially when you have an ability and everything. Stuff like that is kinda one of the main reasons why people give us shit so much, and it's not exactly like I can ask Goatface about it. I just wanted to know."
With a sigh Kaien nodded. "I understand. It is hard not to see things, and there's no doubt we've got a high concentration of cursed people in Karakura and the surrounding area. I'll be honest with you, I don't actually know that much. I've never met anyone properly who had one. From what I've heard, though, they're people like anyone else personality wise, if maybe a bit jaded because of their experience. The curse doesn't seem to change who they are or anything, just gives them weird animalistic traits and instincts. Like I said, though. I'm no expert. I'd never avoid someone because of it, though. I'm sure a lot of them are great people."
Kaien must have caught a glimpse of Ichigo's…less-than-enthusiastic expression, because he hurriedly added on.
"You're not worried about getting one, are you? Come on, Ichigo, the Shiba family hasn't had a transformative curse in what, seven generations? Or was it eight? This stuff is curable nowadays unless you inherit it, and it's not as if we have a history you need to be worried about."
So the streak of curseless Shibas is that long, huh? I guess I'm going to be the one that breaks it. Ichigo couldn't deny that the idea made him a little uneasy.
"It's not like that," he said quickly, trying to cover his tracks. He knew Kaien was far from stupid, but he could still hope the jig wasn't entirely up. "I was just doing some research and heard that sometimes, if people inherit a curse and they're too old, there's no cure. Thought it kinda sucked, that's all. Like imagine you were just going about having a normal life, especially if you didn't even have an ability, and wham, you started growing a tail. I don't know what I'd even think if it happened to me."
Kaien sighed, sitting back on his chair. "Look, Ichigo, I know you like getting yourself all worked up about things that might happen to you, but this isn't something you should be worrying about. You shouldn't even be giving it a second thought, actually. It's not like you're going to wake up all covered in fur one day and have to figure out where to go from there. Yes, I know, you're worried about how something like that might affect your sisters as well," he said in response to Ichigo's silent open mouth, "but in the most extreme, obscure, incredibly unlikely event you somehow got cursed and for some bizarre reason they weren't able to cure you—which for immediate curses basically never happens, and that's what you'd have to get—you'd be essentially the same as far as I can tell, just some extra fur thrown in. No predator urges in the middle of the night telling you to rip your family open for dinner. You're thinking werewolves, Ichigo. But they're not real, and that's not how it works."
"Yeah, I see your point." Nejibana had started lightly headbutting Ichigo's proferred hand.
"Can you promise me you're not going to spend any more time worrying about this?"
"I guess." It was kind of hard to not worry about it considering the circumstances, and Kaien's answers had been vague, but the assurance that at the very least he wasn't on the verge of turning into a bloodthirsty monster was nice.
"Not I guess, Ichigo, I want to know you're not going to stay awake tonight thinking about the most convoluted situation possible in which you get incurably cursed. Promise me."
Ichigo didn't want to make a promise to Kaien that he knew he couldn't keep, but technically since he already had a curse he didn't have to imagine ways in which he might acquire it.
"I promise I'm not going to be imagining specific scenarios where I get cursed tonight in bed."
"There. That wasn't so hard, now was it? You've got more important things to think about. Especially that cute friend of yours. I want you to ask him out, all right?"
"Okay, Kaien. Sheesh. Kinda bossing me around a lot, aren't you?"
"I don't want you to shoot yourself in the foot. Stop by after your first date—"
"Hypothetical first date."
"First date," Kaien said firmly, "and tell me how it went. Sound like a plan? I like having my baby cousin drop by for visits, and it seems Nejibana does too."
As awkward as it had been, Ichigo's conversation with Kaien had wet his appetite for answers. He didn't want to risk asking Isshin about any of it for a multitude of reasons up to and including the inevitable screeching sound he would make, running around the house weeping and screaming to the unhearing poster of Masaki Shiba (née Kurosaki) about the tragic fate that befallen their only son. After that he knew it would only get worse, Isshin most likely growing more and more distant for reasons he would insist had nothing to do with Ichigo's latent curse.
No, the best place for Ichigo to look for answers was from his mother herself.
Or rather, her journals, as Masaki had been missing presumed dead for six years now, regardless of how much Isshin attempted to immortalize her. However, as much as that was in no way ideal, Ichigo wasn't completely cut off from her as far as information went. She had taken meticulous notes on seemingly benign everyday occurrences in a series of journals as far back as Ichigo could remember, and likely further. If there was anywhere he could look for proper information without waving a red flag in everyone's face, it would be there.
When it came to looking for Masaki's journals, Ichigo had a decent idea of where to start. It was where most of her personal belongings had inevitably ended up after the dust of her fate had settled. He'd been too young at the time to have the foresight to ferret any of it away into his own room as a reminder, but there were still times he'd duck into the closet when he thought no one was around, letting the memories wash over him.
The closet's contents were eight cardboard boxes, unlabelled and stacked two deep. Gently Ichigo eased open the first one, sneezing at the cloud of dust he'd stirred up. Nose still tickling he peered down into the box, noticing its contents were nothing but clothes he distantly remembered seeing his mother wear both from his childhood and subsequent pictures.
That and the next box contained nothing of note, Ichigo heaving them into the hallway and sending billowing currents of dust motes dancing in the late afternoon light coming from the single upstairs window.
Most reasonable people would have assumed Masaki gone for good after six years, but Isshin Shiba was hardly one known for logical thinking. He'd stored all her personal belongings away in the event that she showed up on their doorstep again, only leaving a few of her most prized pieces of jewelry out for her shrine that sat in the corner of the living room.
The next box revealed the depths of Isshin's desperation, Masaki's old clothes coupled with a bottle of lotion and a tube of shampoo. Out of curiosity, and suddenly feeling nostalgic for what it was like to have a mother around the house, Ichigo tentatively unscrewed the lid on the lotion bottle.
It looked a bit like curdled milk, watery with chunks floating in it, immediately hitting Ichigo's nose with a smell that was undoubtedly among the worst he'd ever had the misfortune to sniff.
"Fuck!" Out of reaction he tossed it out into the hallway, but immediately thought better of it and crawled over to put the lid back on. He was tempted to throw it out, knowing that his mother would be absolutely appalled by the idea of her husband hoarding six-year-old bottles of personal care products in her name, but Isshin personally took it upon himself to do a very thorough inventory of the 'Masaki Vault' each year on the anniversary of her kidnapping, and he'd notice if it was missing.
Ichigo quickly wrote the rest of that particular box off as a waste of time, not wanting to assault his olfactory sense any more than he already had.
The next box was slightly different. Technically what was inside didn't even belong to Masaki, even much of the contents had been made by her own hands. It was his and the twins' baby blankets, soft and delicate as ever and bringing a tug at Ichigo's heartstrings.
He picked up the oldest one, white with little strawberries embroidered at the edges, and pressed it to his face. It was as dusty as everything else in the Vault, but it still carried the faintest smell of the warmth and comfort it had brought him. Back when life was simple, and he didn't have to worry about blowing things up, or getting taken away like his mother had been because of what he was, or how he was sooner or later going to turn into a monster.
Had she known? Did the curse he bore originate from her, or had it been some nameless, faceless Kurosaki ancestor that had acquired it years before?
When Masaki had made her firstborn this soft blanket, swaddled him and cradled him and held him close with all the love in her heart, had she known what his fate would be?
Would she still love me if she knew?
Ichigo sat there for a while, letting himself drift hazily down memory lane to the days when their family was whole and unblemished, and his mother held him close and promised to continue doing so no matter how old or big he got. It was only the ringing of the phone downstairs, with no one to answer it, that startled him out of his reverie, gently folding the blanket with a single wet tearstain on it back into the box with the rest of his and the twins' baby things, sliding it out into the hallway to make room for him to open the next.
The next three boxes of the Masaki Vault Ichigo opened held nothing of particular significance, more clothes and books and shoes and whatever else Isshin had deemed worthy of keeping. Ichigo could feel his heart sinking with each time he rummaged around to bring up a book that he knew wouldn't hold any answers, desperation growing. Surely there had to be something in here in the way of journals. Ichigo had only been ten when she'd been taken away, but he'd been an observant kid and remembered she had a habit of marking down her days every evening. Sometimes he'd curl up next to her while she did, reading one of his kid books to the sound of her pen scratching on paper. She'd sworn by analog record-keeping, citing that it was always more trustworthy and less likely to disappear.
Disappear like she did. An image of that day, one Ichigo had tried over the years to tuck inside one of the recesses of his mind, nudged its way into his train of thought and had to be forcibly shoved out. Now was not the time.
All that was left of the Masaki Vault was the eighth and final box, battered and tucked away in the corner of the closet. If there was nothing in here, the entire search would have been futile.
Ichigo was in luck, though, because a quick look inside revealed at least fifteen red-bound journals stacked neatly next to a pair of photo albums. Tentatively he reached in and pulled out one of the journals, running his hands along the dusty cover and sending a puff up into the air that made him sneeze again.
The book opened with a creak of disuse, revealing page after page of his mother's familiar tidy writing cascading down the page in black ink. He traced the words with his fingers, not reading anything in particular but just skimming the page. In a few places the kanji of his own name caught his eye, suggesting when this journal might have been from.
Having found exactly what he came for, Ichigo hauled the journals out and across to his room, not wanting to remove the box in its entirety lest Isshin notice the absence on a midnight trip down memory lane as he was wont to do. Instead he deposited them all on his desk in three batches with a mighty thump, sliding the other boxes back into the depths of Masaki's closet shrine and closing the door, trying to make it look like it hadn't been disturbed at all. A glance at the clock in his room told him that Isshin still had another half hour before finishing his shift at the clinic, and that Karin's soccer practice wouldn't be done for another fifteen minutes, meaning he had plenty of time to pour over his mother's journals before he was interrupted.
He selected what appeared to be the newest journal of them all, sitting on his bed with his back to his headboard bookshelf and beginning to read.
Most of it was fluff, detailing the everyday life of the Shiba household and her daily work in the clinic. There were plenty of cute anecdotes about his sisters and their youngblooded antics that made him smile, as well. The happiness of reading words written in his mother's own hand did wonders to lessen the crushing weight of fear that had settled so firmly on his shoulders the last week, even making him temporarily forget his pounding headache.
The most interesting of all was what his mother had written about him. They were just small little stories, for the most part, but they were a window into an era of Ichigo's life he'd had to largely forget due to the pain of what had directly succeeded it. He'd been so carefree and silly then, a particular anecdote of him sneaking chocolate cake batter when he thought she wasn't looking sticking out in his mind and making him smile. Had he really ever been so…childish? Once Masaki had been gone he'd resolved to fill her role when it came to his sisters, responsibility weighing heavy on his shoulders until they were older, at which point the childlike spark inside him had been long since extinguished.
The happy trip down memory lane was swiftly halted, however, when meeting a diary entry for late March the year of Masaki's capture. He didn't lightly skim this one, recognizing certain words from his glance on the page that filled him with dread and the galvanizing thought that he may have finally found some answers in equal measure.
23 March.
Little Ichigo's appointment with Unohana was today. I dread it each year, waiting for the time we go and she tells us it's come, but the waiting is worse.
There's nothing again this year. I hold out a foolish hope that it bypassed him, and maybe even his sisters too, entirely. I know it's extremely unlikely, and that if anyone inherited my curse it would be him, the firstborn. I just wish that if he had it, we'd know by now so he could already be undergoing treatment and be clear by the time the year's out. But this year was another one with no sign of the curse. Ichigo doesn't know that there's anything to be afraid of, always thinks it's a normal checkup. I want to keep it that way for as long as possible, but his time is running out. I know that if the curse doesn't show up before he turns twelve we won't be able to stop it. I can't bear the thought of my precious strawberry condemned to living life as a hybrid.
I took him out for sweets afterwards, and the smile on his face almost made me feel better about the whole thing.
Almost.
If nothing happens by his twelfth birthday I'll have to tell him. Isshin doesn't want to, saying it'll only worry him. But I think he deserves to know what might happen to him. If—when—it does I'll make sure he doesn't have to endure it alone. Having someone that loves him no matter what he may become is of utter importance. I need to make sure he knows this.
Ichigo's heart was pounding in his chest. So many thoughts and emotions were racing through his mind it was difficult to process them all, head spinning.
She knows.
That was the most shocking thing of all. His mother had known, seemingly since he was born, about the curse he had inevitably inherited.
Still in disbelief Ichigo read the entire entry over again, finding the words to possess the exact same meaning that they had before. It couldn't have been possible. His mother had been preparing for this curse since he was born.
And Isshin knew? How long had he? And why had he never thought to mention the curse to Ichigo since Masaki's absence? She had written that he didn't want to worry him, which wasn't entirely surprising, but frustrating considering the curse's sudden appearance had been made even worse with no forewarning.
Heart rate still through the roof, Ichigo read the last two sentences she had written. She would have loved him even now, regardless of whatever abomination he ended up as. That was strangely comforting, even if it was largely irrelevant considering she was either locked up in a high-security facility who knew where, or (more likely at this point) dead. If she was still alive, there was even a chance she might not even remember who her son Ichigo was, much less that she loved him.
It was too overwhelming to think about reading anything else. Ichigo eased the book shut and stacked it on top of the others on his desk, lying back on his bed and staring blankly at the ceiling, letting his mind race thinking about nothing and everything at the same time. His tailbone let out a sharp pang of protest, but that was nothing compared to the pain in his head from both the curse and his mother's words.
Someone that loves him no matter what.
If only he could get such an assurance from someone still around.
Author's note: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter.
Brief note: updates for this fic may move to biweekly alternating with my other longfic for the time being. I plan on participating in Whumptober this year, and that along with weekly updates for two different fics might be difficult to manage. Hope you understand :)