[Outskirts of Death City, Nevada]
[13 AWAY]
When Rukia's slender hand shoves the glowing red soul into her mouth and swallows it without chewing, Ichigo wonders.
"Does it taste good?"
Rukia turns from her crouched position on the ground to face him. The gravel path grinds loudly under the heels of her black loafers. Her eye twitches. "You've asked me that question hundreds of times."
A chorus of cicadas buzzes as the clouds part and the sun beats down a little harder.
"I forget, okay? Anyway, this is only the—" Ichigo reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and checks the mini-notepad he uses to keep record of the souls he's collected. He flips past old notes from when he was partnered with Tatsuki before she decided to be a self-wielding weapon. "—fifth kishin soul you've eaten with me."
He hopes Rukia doesn't point out the fact that he's wielded two other weapons before her: Tatsuki, and some other kid whose name slipped his mind a long time ago.
"It's the eighty-seventh I've had so far."
Ichigo marks this into his notebook so he doesn't forget, and slips it back into his pocket.
Rukia stands, dusting off her plaid skirt. She's two years older than Ichigo, graduating this upcoming June, and somehow a whole foot shorter than him. He never lets her forget it, to much of her annoyance and dismay.
Their clothes, Ichigo noted passively, made them look as mismatched as a weapon/meister unit could come— himself in fashionably loose streetwear and Rukia in the official school uniform, though D.W.M.A didn't strictly enforce dress code rules. The latter's clothes framed her as a sweet young schoolgirl and the former like he had sweet young schoolgirls run away screaming from him most of the time.
"So," Ichigo shoves his hands into his pockets. "Is it tasty?"
"Like I've said before, it has no flavor," Rukia jabs her pointer finger in Ichigo's chest to enhance the strength of the message. Her nail digs into him a little, but the layered fabrics of his new Bad Religion t-shirt over his ratty gray sweatshirt shield him greatly. "Write that down."
"How 'bout the texture?"
Rukia sighs. Looks up at the sky. Sighs again.
"It's like… Jell-O, I guess."
Ichigo nods.
"I think it's about time we headed for the bus." Rukia says, glancing at Ichigo's wristwatch.
Ichigo steps to the side and gestures down the cobblestone path behind him. "Lead the way."
[Death Weapon and Meister Academy, Death City, Nevada]
Dr. Urahara rolled a pink lollipop from the right side of his mouth to his left while mixing chemicals in a sleek glass tube as Ichigo recounted a tale of woe.
As he explained his pitiful situation to his teacher, Ichigo kept thinking about how the scientist should not be eating, or wearing a half-buttoned dress shirt, or wearing Monsters Inc. flip-flops while mixing weird chemicals in a lab.
Then again, he was allowed inside the lab with no protective gear whatsoever, so Dr. Urahara probably wasn't up to anything too dangerous.
He hoped so, at least.
Nobody in his grade even tried describing Dr. Urahara as "eccentric" the more they had his classes. He was just weird. Something about his casual demeanor and the caliber of his feats never felt like they added up. The man who helped seal away Asura the first kishin and immortalized himself sounded more like a mysterious and wise old man who would live atop a mountain, rather than a guy who appeared to be in his late twenties dicking around in the school cafeteria dressed in surfer dude clothes and begging for more vanilla pudding with his meal.
"So your boxing gloves decided to go off and become a world-class boxer by herself?" Dr. Urahara swirled his mixture. The color shifted from a dark blue to pale lilac. "How nice!"
"It's terrible!" Ichigo groaned. His hands slapped his cheeks and dragged the skin down, pulling the bottoms of his eyelids open wide. He'd been agonizing over this departure for so long that he swore his hair had started to go gray at the ancient age of fifteen.
"It's good!" Dr. Urahara countered, crushing the lollipop in his mouth and throwing the stick into a trash can under his desk.
Ichigo peered inside the bin out of curiosity and found a wad of gum, SubWay sandwich wrappers, SubWay sandwich napkins, a suspicious sticky substance, and a several long rectangles of burnt plastic.
"Tatsuki will gain some independence," Dr. Urahara pushed his rolling chair to the left. He eyed a slide on his microscope and rolled back closer to Ichigo. "She'll also develop a whole new skill set, and there'll be fewer casualties— you not being there, of course— if she loses to a kishin. It's a win-win-win."
"But where does that leave me?" Ichigo asked rather loudly, breaking his gaze from the trash can.
A black cat sleeping under the only window in the lab stretched its legs out in front of it, clearly disturbed. It blinked at Ichigo with annoyed eyes— urgh, thanks for waking me up, kid— before hopping off the windowsill and bounding out the open door.
"Aw, Yoruichi! Come back!" Dr. Urahara pouted.
"So?" Ichigo asked impatiently. "What do I do?"
"You find a new weapon partner." Dr. Urahara said, like it was as easy as finding a jug of milk in a suburban family's house.
"I'm in E.A.T," Ichigo replied. "Everyone in E.A.T already has their teams, and I can't pick someone from N.O.T."
Students in the N.O.T program struggled with weapon and meister requirements that Ichigo and Tatsuki— along with the rest of their E.A.T classmates— had mastered at half the age. He couldn't possibly wait for an N.O.T weapon to catch up to him in skill, unable to scratch his growing itch of eliminating kishins.
Dr. Urahara made a 180 in his chair, snickering gleefully like Ichigo had uttered the world's funniest private joke. "You haven't heard the news?"
"What news?"
"Rukia Kuchiki in junior year has completely lost the ability to resonate with her partner," Dr. Urahara cracked his knuckles. "I, nor Dr. Franken Stein can help them at all. The partner picked up an N.O.T weapon that shows promise, and Rukia's been on hold ever since."
Ichigo had heard of the name Kuchiki, but couldn't draw on when and why. Probably some popular kid bullshit he absorbed through osmosis and tended to avoid like the plague.
"But what does that," Ichigo crossed his arms. "have to do with me?"
"You have that ability, don't you?" Dr. Urahara spun back around to face his desk. "To force resonance with any weapon or meister you wish?"
Ichigo didn't remember telling Dr. Urahara about his ability.
"Yeah." He replied slowly, dark brows knit together.
"Rukia is a high-class weapon," Dr. Urahara continued. "She's actually not too far from completing her hunt for ninety-nine kishin souls and one witch soul."
Ichigo frowned thoughtfully in silent awe.
"She has class with me the day after tomorrow, I'll ask her to meet me here after school," Dr. Urahara waved a hand. "I have a feeling you two will get along swimmingly!"
With that sly comment, Ichigo's hope twitched. He hoped it wouldn't be as bad as the goosebumps on the back of his neck told him.
[Baskin-Robbins, Death City, Nevada]
[9 AWAY]
"How's your boyfriend?"
Rukia's feet kick back and forth absently. Her spoon scrapes a curl of Reese's Peanut Butter Cup ice cream. "Hmm? Oh, Renji's fine."
Her eyes are trained on the little TV mounted on the wall, displaying news of an assault or a murder two towns over. "I think that guy they're talking about is a kishin. We should be on the lookout."
Ichigo leans back in his seat and crosses his arms. He smirks.
Rukia doesn't notice. She eats a few more bites of her ice cream before jerking her chin at Ichigo.
"What's wrong with your face?"
"I said boyfriend, you said Renji."
Rukia's cheeks almost instantly flash strawberry red. She begins fanning herself with her hand as if trying to cool off in the hot spring air. "I only really have one other decent boy-space-friend other than you, and it's Renji, okay?" her voice climbs up octaves as she speaks, totally highlighting the fat crush Ichigo sniffed out with his sharp intuition.
(He read her diary last week when she made him wait for her in her dorm living room. It was on her dining table, begging to be cracked open. He then pretended to look bored and mess around with the snake game on his cell phone.)
"Bullshit," Ichigo picks up his spoon again and points it at Rukia's face. "You have a fatass crush on Renji."
"I don't have a fatass crush on Renji."
Rukia's red face and black dodging eyes says otherwise.
"Either way," Ichigo says, scooping Rocky Road into his mouth. "You hang out with whatshisface… Toshiro? That's another boy-space-friend on your list."
"Toshiro?" Rukia scoffs. "I've spoken to him twice. He's a child."
"He's my age isn't he?" Ichigo asks defensively. Another large chunk of ice cream moves into his mouth. Toshiro was short, but he wasn't a complete child.
"He's thirteen." Rukia corrects.
Oh. Ichigo thinks. He really is a child.
"He's the youngest Weapon of Death to ever be made," Rukia continues. "I asked him for some pointers on reaping, but he's difficult to speak to sometimes."
"Much like someone I know…" Ichigo sighs, making pointed eye contact with Rukia. Her face immediately contorts into an ugly image of annoyance.
"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?"
Ichigo shrugs. Smiles. Eats another bite of ice cream. They earn a couple of stares from neighboring tables.
"This is the LAST TIME I suggest ice cream after a job well done, YOU HEAR ME, KUROSAKI?"
"Yeah, yeah," More Rocky Road melts on Ichigo's tongue. "Sure thing."
Rukia doesn't rise to the bait.
No matter. Ichigo will catch her next time.
[D.W.M.A, Death City, Nevada]
The door to Dr. Urahara's lab on this day looked a lot more ominous than it normally does.
Probably because today, a mysterious white smoke was leaking out from the cracks in the doorway.
"Get it over with," Ichigo said aloud. He raised a tight fist and pounded the door.
Dr. Urahara opened the door with a wide grin. He, as usual, was wearing his green and white striped bucket hat today which, as usual, obstructed his eyes. Ichigo coughed as more of the candy-scented smoke drifted outward and into the air.
If Ichigo didn't know any better, he'd think Dr. Urahara was smoking one giant bong.
"Ichigo!" Dr. Urahara pushed the door open wider. "You made it!"
"Yeah," Ichigo's eyes were watering as he stepped inside. "Is this smoke safe?"
"Safe as houses." Dr. Urahara replied, but that smile that frequently made the back of Ichigo's hairs stand rigidly upright.
"So you're Ichigo." A voice said it with no palpable emotion as he stepped deeper inside the lab.
"You're Rukia?" Ichigo asked. He caught sight of her standing by a series of empty test tubes.
"Yes," Rukia cocked her head to the side. "You're in second year?"
"Yeah," Ichigo replied. "I thought you'd be taller."
He wasn't quite sure why he'd say something so obviously antagonistic, but it was true. Ichigo himself wasn't a ridiculously tall person— only around 5'9"— but he was at least a whole foot taller than her, and her reputation made her seem like she'd be more… intimidating. Bulky.
Tall.
"I thought you'd be less clumsy with your choice of words." Rukia shot back twice as fast.
Ichigo opened his mouth to take it a level further, but Urahara clears his throat.
"The smoke!" He said. "This smoke makes it easier for two people to match wavelengths."
"That doesn't matter to me." Ichigo said.
"With this smoke aiding you, all you need to resonate is to do this—" Dr. Urahara raised his arms to the ceiling and hopped from one foot to another. "—and say: with the awesome power of this smoke, I shall bow in awe and we will become one!"
"That's stupid as hell." Ichigo blurted out at the same time Rukia said: "That sounds completely fake."
"Then don't." Dr. Urahara crossed his arms.
He was waiting. Watching them like a hawk would watch a mouse scamper across flat grassy grounds.
Then, something stung Ichigo on his forehead. It felt like an invisible wasp with a barbed stinger.
"Ow!" He yelled. He smacked a palm to his face to kill the stupid bug, but it came away with nothing on it. It happens again, and then again.
Ichigo glances at Rukia, who looks like she's trying not to yelp herself.
"I warned you two!" Dr. Urahara sang, face shifting from observant and authoritative to who's calling my incantation stupid, now?
"Okay, okay!" Ichigo raised his arms to the ceiling and hopped from one foot to another. "With the awesome power of this smoke, I shall bow in awe and we will become one!"
"Rukia, dear!" Dr. Urahara chirped to the wincing girl.
Rukia raised her arms to the ceiling and hopped from one foot to another. "With the awesome power of this smoke, I shall bow in awe and we will become one!"
"Transfiguro: magister et daemonium arma." Dr. Urahara clapped his hands together.
At first Ichigo thinks it's for dramatic effect, but one moment he was standing in the room with watery eyes and stinging skin.
The next, he's transported into a soul chamber.
He looked down at the ground and is greeted with a complete lack of clothing.
"Uh… shit."
He visualized the outfit he wore today on his body— army-green cargo shorts and the black Master of Puppets shirt his dad gave him for his birthday last year.
"Hello?" Ichigo called out, hoping his voice wasn't swallowed up by this expansive darkness. The chamber was still slowly materializing around him, wind swishing loudly in his ears and dust swirling around him.
"Nice threads." Dr. Urahara said from behind him. Ichigo whirled around, catching his teacher (fully clothed, thankfully) munching on a Granny Smith apple. He was wearing some sort of eccentric black robe over his standard Hawaiian shirt, jean shorts, and flip flops. The entire outfit composition should clash with the bucket hat and robe, but he somehow coolly pulls it off.
"How'd you get food in here?" Ichigo asked.
"How'd you get clothes in here?" Dr. Urahara pointed at Ichigo's clothes with the apple.
"Touché." Ichigo muttered before turning around again. The space begins to lighten, turning from a pitch-black darkness into a shade of gray.
"What we were inhaling in my lab is a… well, I guess you could say it's a hallucinogen I've tampered with. It was historically used in certain death rituals," Dr. Urahara said, tossing the apple core up. Halfway through its descent, it transformed into a brand new apple. "But it's perfectly safe and will wear off naturally."
"You drugged us?" Rukia's voice echoed from around them. After her voice softly faded away, a wood door swirled into existence in front of Ichigo.
"Ah," Dr. Urahara ignored Rukia, clinical interest dripping from his voice as he tilted his head backward with his eyes trained on the sky. He frowned, as if something obstructed his view, but Ichigo couldn't make anything out up there. As he was about to ask what was wrong, Dr. Urahara smiled again. "Considering Ichigo's ability, I assumed that we'd be in his Soulscape, but it seems we aren't. How exciting!"
"Exciting?" Ichigo raised an eyebrow. His breath fogged as he spoke, but he felt no chill.
"After you." Dr. Urahara said. A wooden cane materialized in his hand, which he used to push down the handle and wedge the door open for Ichigo.
A snowy hilltop scene was laid out before him, the rocky peak of the mound at the heart of what appeared to be a quiet Japanese village. The sky was a smooth kaleidoscope of colors, bathing everything in a silvery light with the sun glinting like an opal in the center of it.
It was breathtaking.
As soon as Ichigo stepped past the door's threshold, it slammed shut.
"Good luck!" Dr. Urahara chuckled gleefully. "You're gonna need it." The door melted away.
"Dr. Urahara?" Ichigo asked. "Uh… Doc? Hello?"
No answers.
"I didn't want him here." Rukia said.
Ichigo almost didn't recognize her.
Her hair was the purest shade of white, and she was dressed in a kimono of a matching color. Her eyes were tinged purple instead of being their usual black, adding an even more otherworldly effect to her attire.
She hugged her arms to herself. "At least, I hope he picked up on that. I don't think I can actually stop him from breaking into here."
"Why not have him around?" Ichigo asked, suddenly feeling very underdressed, and then confused because why would you go all out to dress like this in your Soulscape? He usually wound up being either naked, or wearing the same thing he was in before entering it.
"He likes to poke around people's brains," Rukia explained. "Not in a malicious way, but…" her voice trailed off. "He has this way of just cracking people open. Like a combination of telepathy and psychoanalysis? It's hard to explain."
Ichigo thought of how Dr. Urahara somehow intuitively knew about his ability to force resonance. Maybe it was the guy's ancient status, basically being some kind of minor death god at this point, or just the fact that he was very, very good at his job.
"I think I get what you mean."
"So," Rukia said. "Why do you want to kill kishins? It's practically the only thought I can get from you here."
Ichigo crossed his arms. "I want to protect people who can't protect themselves."
Rukia scoffed. "That's such a generic answer."
She began walking up the hill's gentle crest. Ichigo followed her up, trudging through the snow.
"What about you?" He asked. The wind stole some of the volume of his voice from him.
"It's in my family's legacy," Rukia replied over her shoulder. "My brother pushed very hard for us to be here, as you may know."
He knew.
"But do you want to do it?" He asked.
Rukia sat down in the snow at the peak of the hill. Ichigo mirrored this action and sat beside her.
"Yes," Rukia said. "It's a huge honor. To fight for the D.W.M.A."
They sat there for a few moments.
Ichigo hugged his knees to his chest. "You wanna know why I really want to eradicate the kishins?"
He might as well tell her. She was his new partner, after all.
He could see Rukia's head turn to face him in his peripheral vision.
"My mother," Ichigo thought about how blunt he should be. "She was killed by one trying to protect me when I was a kid."
Rukia's face melted— snow in the heat of summer.
"My dad is a retired world-class meister, and my mom was a Death weapon," Ichigo continued. "But the kishin was… really strong. She couldn't do it alone, and it was just me and her there." He's old enough to not cry when he thought about this, but it wasn't exactly a fun story to tell. "So that's why."
They sat in silence for a bit.
"I'm sorry." Rukia said.
"Eh, it's okay." Ichigo said. And it is. He focused on the present moment now instead of dwelling on what had been.
"I don't know why I said your reason was generic," Rukia admitted. "It's beautiful. It's good that so many young people here feel that way."
Ichigo shrugged. "Your reason is pretty impressive too. I'm sure it was a steep climb."
Rukia simply sighed wearily at that, which spoke more than any words.
"Let's get out of here?" Ichigo asked.
"Sure." Rukia rose and began leading the way down the hill.
They walked down the hill and began passing through a thin grove of trees.
"What was I thinking about just now?" Ichigo wondered aloud, having lost track of his thoughts as he kicked up sprays of fresh snow. The village was approaching.
"How am I supposed to know?" Rukia asked, a few yards ahead of him. She crouched to the ground and began forming a snowball in her small hands. "What you'll have for dinner today— chicken or steak."
Ichigo stopped dead in his tracks and looked at Rukia. Really looked at her. Her hair that reminded him mildly of a jellyfish. Her confident demeanor.
He felt like he'd just struck a match and was watching it spark to life on his fingertips.
"Weird."
Rukia's head cocked to the side for the second time today, but lacking judgement this time around. "Yeah. Weird, but…."
"Cool." Ichigo finished for her.
She smiled at him. The first time, and surprisingly not the last.
[Death City, Nevada]
[7 AWAY]
Chad wants to take a walk today to break up their relentless end-of-year studying.
Which means Ichigo will be following because the two of them are basically a package deal, which means Orihime will tag along, which means Tatsuki will tail her, which means Keigo will hear about the girls coming, and drag Mizuiro behind him.
It's the type of loud, conversational walk that warrants one earbud nestled in Ichigo's right ear so he can tune out the stupid stuff (read: Keigo) and zone in when he wants. The music he's decided to play today is a mix he asked Karin to send to him. It included a small message from Yuzu on the blank space at the end— remember Ichi! We love you!— with his dad butting in to add: and remember to NEVER turn your back on the enemy!
He's not really missing Karakura Town's sleepy vibe and his dad's irritating surprise attacks, but he does miss his family.
Slightly.
(He obviously wouldn't ever let his dad know of all people.)
"How's it going with the training, Tatsuki?" Keigo asks loudly on Ichigo's left side as they turn out of the residence area.
Ichigo frowns at him when they make accidental eye contact. He lets himself fall behind and walks forward again, this time making sure that Keigo is on his right side.
"Oh sorry, Ichigo," Keigo continues, not sounding sorry at all. "Sore subject?"
"That's just how his face is!" Orihime chirps. Ichigo turns away from them as they speak because it's true, and he has nothing else to add to that claim. "Besides, haven't you heard? He's now got a really cool weapon partner and she looks so cool slashing in the air like WOOSH!"
Orihime makes a very… interesting fighting stance, with both her hands gyrating wildly above her head. Ichigo doesn't blame her. She used Chad's shielding ability most of the time anyway as her newer teammate Uruyu tended to do his own thing in their vicinity. They had no real teamwork going on, but the three of them got the job done well.
"Not that you're not a really cool weapon, Tatsuki!" Orihime adds. "You're awesome!" And at that, she throws her arms around Tatsuki's neck. They spin around a little on the path.
"I know I am," Tatsuki flexes an arm proudly. "And I'm only going upward."
When Ichigo spots the group of familiar students, he kills his music.
"Hey Rukia," Ichigo waves to his partner, and then the guy beside her. "Renji." His red hair is in its usual ponytail, but he lacks his usual cyborgish sunglasses, replacing the spot they normally hold with an athletic band.
Renji gestures to his accomplices behind him. Ichigo recognizes… Momo in red basketball shorts and a loose white t-shirt next to a familiar blond guy among some other faces Ichigo can't pin names to.
"We're gonna shoot some hoops if you guys wanna join." Renji's tone is friendly, but it doesn't incentivize Ichigo to hop onto the court. They're not friends per se, but they certainly aren't enemies.
"Nah, we're good." Ichigo's fingers paw at his MP3 nestled in the pocket of his cargo shorts and presses PLAY again. The Descendents' Good Good Things blasts into his ears through his tinny earbuds.
Renji's voice rises above the music. "You scared of losing, Kurosaki?"
A good natured challenge.
"Nah," Ichigo looks over his shoulder and waves a dismissal. "I'm taking it easy today."
"Alright," Renji calls. "Good luck with your finals."
Ichigo gets about two and a half steps away from Renji before ripping his earbuds out of his ears. They swing like a pendulum from his fist. Chad smiles. Tatsuki too, and Orihime's watching him with an awed sort of look in her eyes.
Ichigo really can't let a challenge go unfulfilled.
"Y'know what?" He says. "Let's have a one on one."
Renji spins around, ball compressed between his large palms. He smirks easily, like this was all a part of his grand plan. "Good man, Ichigo. Let's see if you've got the moves."
Rukia appoints herself as the referee, while Keigo appoints himself as the announcer (to much protest from literally everyone) and when Ichigo wins, he shakes Renji's hand firmly and wipes sweat from his face with the hem of his now not-so-new Bad Religion shirt.
Orihime witnesses quick flash of Ichigo's toned abdomen, and the way the afternoon sunlight catches his fiery orange hair before blushing fiercely and turning to Tatsuki with a smile. Chad's been challenge to a two against two with Keigo as Mizuiro and Momo line up. Rukia laughs at a joke Renji's made and touches his arm. She leaves her hand there comfortably.
Ichigo almost doesn't notice it.
[Swamp Residence, D.W.M.A, Death City, Nevada]
"I know what that is!" Orihime clapped her hands. "It's when your resonance doesn't work and you explode into a million little pieces, right?"
Ichigo and Tatsuki exchanged a look: how do we tell her she's wrong but also right at the same time?
Thankfully, over the course of their first year, Chad had become fluent in Orihimenese. It could be attributed to his natural calm tone, or the constant lack of hostility of his language contributing to it. Whatever it was, it worked wonders on never killing Orihime's bubbly mood.
"You're on the right track," Chad began. "But it's not an explosion. It's a complete disconnection between meister and weapon that feels like an explosion when they try to resonate."
"The bad kind, not the good kind." Orihime nodded, scribbling a couple of notes into her Hello Kitty notebook.
"How is there a good kind of explosion?" Tatsuki mumbled. Ichigo stifled a snort and turned back to his practice quiz.
A few moments later Ichigo watched Chad stand up and make his way to the thermostat out of the corner of his eye. He stood there with a hand stroking his stubbled chin for a few moments before fiddling around with its settings. He then crossed the living room area in a few long strides to push the stiff windows open further.
"Hot?" Ichigo asked. He'd started to sweat up a storm himself.
"My air conditioning broke last night," Orihime admitted. "Sorry guys. I didn't think it would get this bad today. I would've booked a study room in the library if they had room."
"That's okay, it's not your fault," Tatsuki patted Orihime's shoulder. "Maybe we can cool off with some ice cream."
Orihime perked up at that suggestion. "I've got a really cool flavor."
"What is it?" Ichigo asked.
"Salted licorice!" She smiled. Tatsuki made a discrete gagging motion to Ichigo: been there, done that, do NOT recommend. "I found out about it on the travel channel when they went to Sweden and it looked really cool so I ordered a kit for making it online."
"Hmm," Chad hummed. His expression was almost always neutral, so Ichigo couldn't outright tell if Chad was as disgusted as Tatsuki was, or if he was actually interested in that abomination of an ice cream flavor. "I'm lactose intolerant."
Ichigo wanted to point out that the last time they met up, Chad cooked and destroyed four plates of chicken 'n cheese quesadillas as Ichigo battled something he called The Sunburn Kishin in the bathroom with Chad's massive aloe vera plant. However, eating copious amounts of cheese was also in line with the activities the lactose intolerant frequently partook in.
Chad locked into Ichigo's stare. Through his shaggy brown bangs, his dark eyes transported Ichigo to Bro Zone, a realm where bros communicated secretly without words.
He said: do not mention the quesadillas, bro.
Ichigo nods. I wouldn't do that to you, bro.
"How about we get some slushies?" Ichigo offered, breaking out of the Bro Zone.
Tatsuki sighed with relief, a bloody and beaten soldier learning that the war was now over and they'd be heading home soon. "There's a 7-11 somewhere nearby," she stood, dusting off her shorts. "I can lead the way."
"Lead the way, then!" Orihime pumped a fist into the air. God bless her.
"Safe." Chad said quietly next to Ichigo, in a baseball announcer tone.
Ichigo laughed, punching the big guy in the shoulder and moments later the sides of his mouth were almost sliced apart by the plastic of his cherry freeze pop.
He pushed out the slushy treat a little too far and caught it in his mouth before it fell out onto the pavement.
A small bit of ice melted as it slid down his chin, which he wipes away with the back of his hand.
He watches the juice dripping down his skin dry off in the sun, staining his hand with red.
[D.W.M.A, Death City, Nevada]
[5 AWAY]
When Ichigo spots Orihime at the 793rd Anniversary Dance, he thinks she looks pretty cute in her flowy pink dress, like a real princess.
"Hi." Ichigo says. He looks across the room to Rukia and Renji. They're talking about something he can't hear from so far away, but seeing Rukia at ease makes him smile.
He feels a tap on his shoulder.
"Ichigo, would you li…" Orihime mumbles.
Ichigo leans down, hoping to catch what she says this time around. "Hunh?"
Orihime glances at something behind Ichigo. "Never mind!" she squeaks. "I was… don't worry about it, okay?"
"If you say so," Ichigo says in her ear. Stray strands of her updo tickle his lips, so he gently brushes them back behind her ear. "Have a nice night, Orihime." He squeezes her shoulder.
She looks at the hand that just grasped her. "Oh! Y-You too, Ichigo!"
"Ah," Dr. Urahara's voice rising above the sounds of the party as she leaves makes Ichigo frown slightly. "Young love."
"Young love?" Ichigo echoes. A woman with silky midnight-black hair and dark skin stands behind Dr. Urahara, glowering when Ichigo's eyes meet hers. Ichigo's frown deepens— what's her problem?
Dr. Urahara hangs his head. He's lost the bucket hat on today's formal occasion, sporting a black tuxedo combo with forest-green accents. It's actually a decent outfit, much to Ichigo's surprise. "So blind he can't see it. Or maybe…" Dr. Urahara smiles like he's got something sinister up his sleeve. His usual smile, as Ichigo has learnt. "He's blinded by other rose-tinted lenses."
"You speak in weird metaphors sometimes." Ichigo sticks his hands into his pockets and makes way toward the punch bowl.
"I am very well-versed in the language of love!" Dr. Urahara cries, throwing his hands up for flair.
"Like hell you are." The meaner but definitely cooler woman bumps a forceful shoulder against Dr. Urahara's.
"Yoruichi…" Dr. Urahara shakes his head. "You of all people should know all about my undeniable charm."
"Yoruichi?" Ichigo sliced a hand through the air to capture their attention again. "Did you name your cat after this lady?"
"I am the cat," Yoruichi says, and turns to Dr. Urahara. "I thought you said he was one of your better students, Kisuke. He should've picked up on that."
Ichigo blinks. "Oh. You're a cat witch."
Yoruichi raises an eyebrow. "That's all you have to say? I expected a bigger reaction."
"Rukia and I fought a cat witch who surrendered before we killed her, so I've kinda exhausted all surprises related to that stuff," Ichigo says. "I think her name was Blair."
"I see…" Urahara stroked his chin thoughtfully, looking a million miles away.
Ichigo bids them a farewell and makes his way to the punch bowl.
He takes a cup and chugs it. It burns his throat a little and he realizes a little too late that there's alcohol in it.
"Who spiked—?" Someone's panicked voice begins to yell. The sound of a loud slap across a cheek and another person yelling "SHUT THE FUCK UP, DUDE!" follows closely.
A rush of students clamor to the punch bowl as teachers try to make it there first.
Ichigo finishes off his fifth glass and he either throws it to the floor, hoping to ditch it in the commotion or it slides out of his grasp and lies there forgotten. He can't remember which.
Passively, he thinks that his inability to distinguish what happened to his red plastic Solo cup so quickly is a tad concerning. He isn't this weak normally.
Or is he?
A firm hand suddenly grips his suit jacket sleeve but lets go of it just as fast.
"Where do you think you're going?" Dr. Urahara asks, wiggling his fingers in gleeful greeting. Yoruichi seems to materialize out of nowhere with her hand on his shoulder, seeming to make an attempt of pulling Dr. Urahara away.
"Going home." Ichigo replies. He hopes he didn't slur.
Dr. Urahara looks him up and down.
Ichigo knows on a certain level that Dr. Urahara, despite his antics, was not a complete idiot. Ichigo looks drunk, probably sounds drunk, and he should, by all means, be punished for it because he's somehow stupidly gotten drunk on school grounds.
Instead, the blond man quips a breezy: "Have fun!" and turns around, linking his arm through Yoruichi's and smoothly guiding her through the chaos. It's oddly gentlemanly, and Ichigo wonders what the hell their relationship is, and if Yoruichi could do better than Dr. Urahara.
She can. Sober Ichigo says as he leans against the doorframe of Drunk Ichigo's thoughts. He looks off into the distance while keeping away from Drunk Ichigo's stupidity, lest it infect him as well.
"Whatever," Ichigo says to the disappearing duo. "Thanks." He coughs into his fist wetly. "You two, too, I guess."
Ichigo stumbles down the last few steps at the front of D.W.M.A and yawns fiercely.
His head tilts up to the stars. There were… so many. Like little pinpricks of breathing holes for a small animal trapped in a shoebox.
Ichigo loosens his black tie, puts his hands into the pits of his slack's pockets, and begins walking down the narrow Lantern Street to the private unit E.A.T residence building.
Ichigo stops in his tracks and frowns.
Lantern Street doesn't look like this.
"Ack," He groans, squinting at his surroundings. "Swamp Road?" He thinks he's on Swamp Road. If he turns around now and makes a right after two crossroads, he'll be back on track.
He senses Rukia before he sees her.
"Ichigo?" She asks. He turns around.
Ichigo wants to say something suave in return but his voice won't come out the way he wants it to, so he settles on keeping his mouth shut. There is a pointed lack of Renji's soul wavelength in any area near them.
"You're smiling," Rukia says as she gets closer. She sniffs the air carefully. "Are you drunk?"
Ichigo wasn't aware that he was smiling, but he makes no effort to stop. He sort of can, but he sort of can't. "Guess I am."
It was strange, being properly drunk. He hadn't ever gotten past being buzzed (only getting buzzed in the first place because of Keigo's annoying peer pressure tactics: come on Ichigooo come on brooo pleaseee come onnn) but this was something new entirely.
"Let's get you home," Rukia says. "Hold onto my hand, and try not to make me catch you if you fall."
Ichigo wants to protest, but the sight of his hands seems to double for a second so he latches one of them onto hers.
The million-dollar question arises as they walk. "Where's Renji?"
"Momo and Izuru detected a kishin so the three of them went off," Rukia shrugs. "They told me to meet them back at Renji's for the afterparty with some of our other friends."
Ichigo nods and regrets it. His brain tilts on its axis and explodes in his skull with the force of one million metal forks in one million microwaves. He clenches his jaw as he falls sideways to his doom. "Fuck."
Rukia helpfully tugs him back to his feet by yanking him the opposite way until he feels like his arm's about to fall off.
She also helps him grab his keycard from his Don Kanoji (don't ask) wallet, slide it against his dorm's security door, and helps him through the front door of his dorm. Since Ichigo lived in a solitary unit, everything was in one room like a studio apartment. The small kitchenette with its decently sized window, the closet-sized bathroom, the half-a-closet-sized closet, and his loft bed.
It's convenient for drunk people, he decides.
Minus the ladder. Sober Ichigo points out.
It's convenient for looking like a pig. Drunk Ichigo thinks, spotting wayward clothes and a trash bin that needed to be taken out yesterday.
"Are you gonna be okay?" Rukia asks.
Oink. A drunk Ichigo shouts loudly in his brain. Oink oink oink. Oinkoinkoink.
"Think so," Ichigo says, and leans against the doorframe. He hears Keigo yelling in his right ear about how it's totally lame to do this when you're drunk! Go out there! Chat up some lovely ladies and get LAID! "I'm sleeping now."
NOOO! The Keigo in his head melts into a puddle of despair. Drunk Ichigo snort-giggles at that. Sober Ichigo cracks a smile.
He turns to head inside, and apparently, Rukia follows him in too because she appears smack in front of him with her right hand sticking out in front of her. He steps back in surprise, swaying, but regains his composure.
"Give me your cell phone." She commands.
Ichigo surrenders the phone.
She flips it open and stares at it for a minute. Ichigo stares at Rukia staring at his phone.
"Who should I call?" she finally asks.
"Hunh?" Ichigo asks. "Call?"
"Should I ask Sado to check in on you? Orihime?"
Ichigo thinks about it as best as he can. Orihime was… loud. Cute, but loud. Lived on Swamp. Chad? Quiet. In the building next door. Would be easy. For him. Ichigo thinks.
Good choice. Sober Ichigo calls from his doorway to Drunk Ichigo.
"Chad," Ichigo replies slowly. "Sado, to you. And… think he's… still called Sado… on my…"
He sits down on the floor by his desk and lets his head rest against the wall. It's nice and cool and he's sort of icky and hot.
Rukia puts the phone to her cheek. She looks tall from Ichigo's vantage point on the floor. He closes his eyes as he listens to her talk: Hi Sado, it's Rukia Kuchiki. Yeah, Ichigo's weapon partner. Look, I'm not quite sure how it happened but Ichigo got himself pretty drunk— yeah, he's having some trouble walking, and he looks pretty out of it right now. I think he'll need someone to keep an eye on him for a while. I can stick around for a bit, so don't feel like you have to rush back here. Oh? Right now? Okay. Well, that aligned quite perfectly! See you soon.
"Good night." Rukia says.
Ichigo raises a loose, jellylike hand to her large, jellyfishlike head. "Night."
Chad comes to his room like an angel in the night. Or the Tooth Fairy coming to collect teeth.
"Need help?" He asks.
"How do I look?" Ichigo asks back, genuinely curious.
Chad doesn't dignify him with a response.
"That bad, hunh?"
"Mind if I give you a lift to my place?" Chad asks.
"Sure."
Chad scoops Ichigo up into his arms the same way a firefighter would scoop up a lethargic cat stuck in a tree on a lazy summer day.
"This is too easy for you." Ichigo's eyes flutter shut. He lets his temple rest against Chad's toned chest. He can hear a heartbeat under the suit jacket and the baby blue dress shirt.
Chad hums. Ichigo feels it more than hearing it.
"How often do you work out?" Ichigo asks. "I can't be this weak next to you. It's not cool."
"Mondays are lower back and strength resistance. Tuesdays are cardio and core— so I go for a run. Wednesdays are yoga. Thursdays are for the upper body. Fridays are for the full body. Saturdays are for recovery and Sundays are for endurance cardio."
Ichigo yawns. "Keep talking."
"Eating healthy and genetics helps," Chad continues. Ichigo thinks it's the most he's spoken in one go, besides oral language presentations. "I've always been naturally strong."
He's not quite sure how he falls asleep instantly to that, but Chad's shaking him awake like a baby with a rattle.
"I know you're tired but don't fall asleep yet."
Ichigo finds himself plopped down onto a seat at the kitchen table a few seconds later, not quiet sure how he got there.
Chad shrugs off his suit jacket and Ichigo slides off his own in an act of copycatness. He stretches out onto the cool surface of the wooden dining table and presses a cheek to it.
He lets out a filthy moan at the cold. "Ahhh."
Dude… Sober Ichigo flushes strawberry red. Stop that.
"Drink." Chad slides a cup across the table that scratches it loudly, ruining the serene silence in the house.
Ichigo looks up at him.
"Red Gatorade," Chad says, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his usual summertime outfit— a white tank top. Knowing what the mystery liquid was now made it look even more ridiculous in a teacup like that. "Then you're drinking a full bottle of water."
"How does that help?" Ichigo asks.
"I learnt it through trial and error." Chad says guardedly, no room for further talk in that direction tonight.
Ichigo sometimes forgets that back in Mexico, not too long before moving here under his meister grandfather's dying wishes, Chad was a completely unhinged hooligan of a kid. Keigo would've looked up to him with stars in his eyes if he knew of half the shit that Chad had gotten into back in the day.
Maybe that's why nobody told Keigo.
Ichigo sips the red Gatorade. He was more of a fan of the orange one, but this was okay too.
Ichigo's now at a point where the convoluted idiocy in his head feels more tangible than the world around him.
He crawls onto the sleeping bag next to Chad's bed in the T-shirt we wore under his button-up and boxers. He does not remember when he ditched his clothes.
I'll be up for a bit. I've got a final day on Monday, so I'm reviewing. Chad says to him.
"Liar," Sober Ichigo shakes his head from a doorway in his brain. "He's staying up so you don't choke on vomit and die in your sleep."
"That's pretty great." Drunk Ichigo replies.
"Hurry up and pass out, loser." Sober Ichigo shuts the door.
Ichigo pulls the blanket up to his chin as he listens to notebook pages flipping.
Nerd. Ichigo calls out, but the affection packed into that word is unmissable.
Chad hums. If you need anything, I'm here. He says.
Ichigo thinks about how nice a sentence like that sounds when the other person truly means it.
Ichigo then thinks about how Rukia left so suddenly.
A part of him, maybe one softened by alcohol or the sparkling stars in the sky, kind of wishes he could've followed her.
[D.W.M.A, Death City, Nevada]
When Ichigo had first met Rukia, he wouldn't have been surprised if they couldn't achieve any sort of soul resonance. His ability to command resonance from any living weapon or meister like Dr. Stein's highly flexible soul wavelength, kept that reality confined to his thoughts.
Rukia's soul was stubborn and it resonated well with Ichigo's because she wanted it to. Their wavelengths melded together in perfect harmony, demanding nothing of Ichigo's ability and keeping Rukia's transformations seamless. The weight of her weapon form always perfectly balanced in Ichigo's hand, and when she cut a kishin, she cut through them like a hot knife through butter.
Ichigo didn't think of Rukia as a weapon. He thought of her as an extension of his fighting ability— a very lethal, very useful, and perhaps even vital attachment to his body.
[Death City, Nevada]
[1 AWAY]
Rukia breaks her form, turning back into a human lying flat on her back.
"We did it," Rukia's chest heaves up and down as she gasps for air. "We killed a witch."
Ichigo kneels as he presses his left hand to the gash on his right arm, and his right hand to the gash on his forehead. The purple-hued soul pulsates like a beating heart. Blood drips into his eyes.
"What're you waiting for?" he asks. He wants to lie down.
Not yet. He grits his teeth. She's so close. You need to see it happen.
Rukia slowly rolls to her side. Pushes herself to her feet. Grabs the soul.
And swallows.
Rukia then unrolls a bandage for Ichigo. He had no idea she kept bandages on her. She begins wrapping it around his arm hard enough to cut off all circulation. "That should hold it. I'll call the school medics, okay?"
Ichigo flexes his fingers and winces. "I think my hand is turning purple."
His vision blurs. He reorients himself by blinking a few times and it works better than expected, releasing some of the slowly growing anxiousness building in him.
"It's fine," Rukia says over him. He feels… her hand on his head? Brushing back his bangs from the bloody mess of a wound on his face? It doesn't feel real. "You're gonna be okay."
She puts a couple of fingers to the pulse points in his neck. Ichigo can feel them thudding in his ears— a little on the slower side, but still very strong.
"Yeah," Ichigo lifts a hand to the bright blue sky. He makes a weak fist around the sun, capturing it in his gauzy palm. "I always am."
[D.W.M.A, Death City, Nevada]
[Congratulations]
Renji didn't strike Ichigo as someone to do a whole backflip after accepting his diploma, which elicits a roar from the crowd. Ichigo claps along.
He recognizes Rukia's petite silhouette crossing the stage. She accepts her diploma, bows, and holds up the rock 'n roll hand sign before walking off.
And it's over all too soon.
Rukia Kuchiki is finished high school.
This feels like it would be longer. This feels like it should have more dedicated to it.
"Any plans with your newfound freedom?" Ichigo asks as Rukia snaps a photo of one of some guy holding up his diploma in front of D.W.M.A's entrance, standing between his smiling parents.
"Renji and I are having graduation dinner," Rukia tucks a wayward strand of hair behind her ear as she hands back the camera. The guy examines the photo taken and thanks Rukia. "You're welcome to join us if you'd like."
"Nah," Ichigo says. "Have fun on your date."
Rukia's face, once again, turns strawberry red. "It's not a date."
Ichigo snatches her hat from her head and ruffles her hair. He puts it back on crookedly, adjusts it, and slaps her on the back. "Keep telling yourself that."
[Death City, Nevada]
The presence of a soul behind Ichigo prompts him to start talking.
"So this is it, I guess." he says, dragging his suitcases to a halt beside him. The muggy weather makes his shirt stick to his skin. Maybe he'll buy something to cool himself off, like a cherry freezer pop.
Rukia shrugs. "I guess so."
"Are we gonna exchange personal emails or something?" Ichigo says it like a joke, but he's halfway hoping she'll take it seriously.
"I got a cell phone." Rukia fishes out the device from her pocket.
Ichigo's eyes feel like they're about to pop out of their sockets. Rukia— Little Miss "I Can Just Call People From The Payphone. I Like Using Them" finally had a cell phone.
Rukia spots his expression and smiles. "Yes, finally, I know. I thought now is as good a time as any."
She passes the phone to Ichigo. "Give me your number. I'll call you and you can save mine."
Ichigo punches his digits into the device, an unfamiliar motion. His fingers almost always automatically dial the Kurosaki household's landline whenever they're presented with a keypad.
Rukia calls him immediately. His phone rings out the default ringtone— he hasn't spent enough time messing around with the settings to find out how to make it a proper song. He answers it and holds the phone to his ear.
"Hi." Ichigo says.
There's an awful, ear-piercing echo on their lines. He hears his voice speaking back to him on Rukia's side.
Rukia holds her phone to her ear. "Hi."
"Y'know, I might miss having you around." Ichigo admits.
"I won't be too far from here."
He knows she got into that university in Reno, which is roughly one hour away by car. In her spare time, she'll be studying for school or working for the D.W.M.A.
"Yeah, you will."
She won't be too far physically, but bit by bit the bond they had forged through battles will soften as she transitions into being Lord Death's weapon, and not only one of Ichigo's ex-partners.
She hangs up the phone and puts it in her pocket. Ichigo lowers his own, dial tone buzzing in his palm.
"I'll be here more than you think, Ichigo."
He hangs up as well. "Will you?" he asks. He's hopeful, but he hates being lied to for the sake of emotional preservation.
"Spirit Albarn— the weapon stationed here— has a young kid," Rukia explains. "That means I'm the only available Death Scythe in the area."
"Makes sense," Ichigo says.
He vaguely remembers how a man with blood-red hair had been Lord Death's preferred weapon of the whole arsenal for years, but starting a family changed things. Gone are the days that weapon and his meister could throw caution to the wind and hunt as they pleased, or as they were commanded to.
"So you're sticking around?" He asks.
"Yeah. I'll have to commute one whole hour every day to get back." Rukia sighs.
"Wait. Wait," Ichigo holds up a hand. "You're living here?" This is news to him. "Not on campus?"
"Of course," she says. "Lord Death has an apartment arranged for me and everything. I'd live at a fraction of the cost I would if I lived on campus in Reno."
Ichigo nods. "That's good."
"Besides," she sticks out her tongue. "I'm not forgetting anyone as annoying as you anytime soon."
"You better not," Ichigo jabs his own thumb into his chest. The thin layer of his t-shirt doesn't soften the blow. "I'm the guy that got you to where you are."
Rukia opens her mouth like she's about to say something, but lunges forward. Ichigo braces for the impact of an inevitable sucker punch and Rukia…
Wraps her arms around Ichigo in a hug.
It's… stiff. Awkward.
They've never hugged before.
It was always an affectionate punch on the shoulder, a warm smile after dueling kishins, or a pat on the arm. Maybe even one of them brushing bangs away from a blood fountain springing from a wound on the other's forehead.
Ichigo's arms envelop Rukia, holding her to his chest. He pats her back awkwardly, and she mirrors the action. They stand there for far too long, patting and cringing, and he's certain he'll walk away smelling faintly of Rukia's incredibly strong cherry blossom lotion, and her like his Axe body spray.
"Thanks for helping me out with the hunting. I appreciate it." Rukia mumbles this into his shirt.
"So you admit it. You'd never be here without me." Ichigo smirks.
This is what pulls Rukia away from him. She crosses her arms. "Don't get cocky, Kurosaki."
"Credit where it's due, Kuchiki."
Rukia smiles at that and Ichigo smiles back at her with almost a drunken ease, and there is a sense of bittersweet finality in that exchange which replaces the usual heavy, verbose goodbyes.
"Don't be a stranger, alright?" Rukia says as she slips into a taxi and Ichigo wishes she hadn't finalized this departure by saying something as conclusive as that.
"Back at you." Ichigo replies with as much nonchalance as he can with his hands in his pockets. They're balled into fists, fingers digging red crescent moons into his palms. Nobody but him knows this.
The car engine hums when it turns the corner, disappearing from his sight and it's like it never existed.
Ichigo runs a hand through his spiky orange hair. Grabs the round handles of his suitcases. Tugs them along as he makes his way down the cobblestone street to the nearest bus stop.
He's smiling in the face of another intense school year's end, but the pressing thought of another part of his life closing itself off forever may make him cry.