Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The first time they meet, Kisuke is on mission in the human world.

Kisuke is lying in wait behind an abandoned shed in the small town on the outskirts of a growing city. The man that he’s tracking—Taira Sadakichi—is getting sloppy after a few days of not being caught. It’s almost pitiful the way he struggles to hide his presence continuously, but Kisuke doesn’t feel anything for this man. Caring isn’t in his job description.

He watches Taira enter a nearby pleasure quarter. Kisuke looks at the building in distaste. His target is on the run and yet he can’t resist entering a place like this? If nothing else, he’s sure Yoruichi will find this man’s decision-making process amusing. If Taira’s this stupid, it’s a wonder they’re even bothering to track him down in the first place.

(Kisuke knows that they real reason they’re tracking him is to set an example. Deserters will be subjugated.)

Shaking off his distaste, Kisuke follows behind his target carefully, movements impossibly silent and fast. He lands on the balcony of the pavilion, watching carefully as Taira all but drools over the beautiful women further inside the building. Kisuke has half a mind to wait until Taira is in the throes of his own pleasure while watching someone go to bed with one of the women when someone catches his eye.

Across the room, a man with bright orange hair catches Kisuke’s attention. His table is separated from the rest of the tables in the room. This man clearly holding a position of power, but he doesn’t look pleased to be there. His head is propped up by his fist as he leans against the table, looking impassively at the beautiful women no matter who approaches him.

It’s… fascinating.

And then their eyes meet.

Kisuke jolts, hiding behind the wall. It shouldn’t be possible for someone to see him at all unless they’re a shinigami themselves, never mind that Kisuke has specifically chosen a vantage point that allows him to look freely with little chance of being seen by anyone even if they can see spiritual beings (as some humans have been known to).

Looking back out across, the room, Kisuke is disappointed when the young man isn’t still looking his way, before he notices that his target has moved, following one of the girls upstairs with a client. This isn’t the time for distractions, he thinks, refocussing on the mission at hand.

Only an hour later, Kisuke swiftly takes the life of Taira. It was almost too easy, sliding the poisoned kunai across the skin of his neck at just the right angle while the man was too busy watching two people make love through the upper window of one of the rooms. The black of his uniform hides the blood well, but he can still taste it in the air. Thankfully, in the dimly lit back alley they’d fallen to below the window, it’s not an unusual sight even if someone can see them.

Kisuke’s wiping the blood from his kunai when he senses the presence of another person. Spinning around, he readies the kunai in his hand and drops his other hand, ready to grab another weapon or cast a kidou if he needs to. Another death would be an acceptable casualty for is mission and he’s fully prepared to do as much before making his escape. His job here is done, there’s no reason to wait another minute before leaving.

There’s not even a chance for Kisuke to see the other person before the kunai is flying from his hand, the metal clanging unpleasantly against the stone path. He can feel the cold of the steel blade, pressing against his throat in precisely the same way that Kisuke had slit Taira’s throat earlier. An assassin technique. Despite the wooden wall behind him and the tantou at his throat, Kisuke finds himself intrigued. Taira’s rapidly cooling body is heaped at his feet, but Kisuke pays it no mind. Glowing gold eyes meet his own and something in the back of Kisuke’s mind screams predator in a way that hasn’t happened in years. Instinctively, he knows this man is stronger than he is.

“Interesting,” the man says. “I’ve seen your kind around before, but I’ve never seen you take down one of your own.” He doesn’t seem upset about the death of Taira. Instead, Kisuke has the discomforting certainty that this man is interested in him.

Kisuke doesn’t say a word, but that doesn’t seem to bother the orange-haired man. “What are you guys anyway? Every decade or so, I see you running around fighting some of the other creatures of the night, and then I don’t see you again for years. Much less frequently than those arrow-wielders I see, anyhow,” he muses.

It doesn’t take a genius to recognise that this man is talking about other shinigami, hollows and the quincy. The real question is, if he doesn’t know the names of any of the above then what is he? He speaks of a decade the same way a shinigami might, so his lifespan must be longer than that of a human’s. Kisuke wracks his mind like it can give him the answers he’s looking for.

It doesn’t.

“You’re not much of a talker, huh?” Orange-hair says. He shrugs, offering a helpless grin. “Neither am I usually.”

Kisuke finds that hard to believe.

“Well, none of my business. I only wanted to meet you,” Orange-hair says. “The names Ichigo.”

Kisuke doesn’t offer his name. He stubbornly keeps his mouth shut like a good Onmi operative. This could all be an elaborate set-up and he’s not taking any chances.

Snorting, Ichigo spares a single glance down at the body below him. “Well, you’d best be on your way now that you’ve achieved your goal,” he says. Even though nothing about it is an order, something in Kisuke feels compelled to follow his direction.

The haziness doesn’t fade from his mind until he’s back in Seireitei, reporting his success to Yoruichi. He doesn’t mention his run in with the non-human boy.

That night, Kisuke dreams of gold eyes and a warm voice whispering his name that night and wakes wishing he could erase the entire experience from his memory—if only to protect his sanity.

The next time they meet, Kisuke is on his first mission as the taichou of the 12^th. He’s on a routine mission with his third seat, Nakahara. There were reports of a hollow that Kisuke had interest in studying, so even though this mission doesn’t require his presence at all, he’d volunteered.

It’s his first time leaving Soul Society in many years, and something about being here brings back flashes of gold eyes and orange hair.

“Let’s go,” Kisuke says to Nakahara, already moving in the direction of the hollow they’re hunting. He’s taken down all of the higher-seated shinigami that had been sent after him, so Kisuke has some idea of the capabilities of this particular hollow: designated Ningyo, it lures its victims into the bodies of water with a song that seems to rend the victim incapable of denying them. It’s this ability that Kisuke is keen to investigate. He’s been especially interested in the powers of suggestion since the incident with Ichigo some hundred or so years ago now.

Their information leads them to a river in the same small town Kisuke had visited the last time he was in the human world. It’s changed a lot since then. He can still see the memories of the past in the way the town is laid out, but it’s bigger now, growing closer to the nearby city. They’re most of the way to the location when Kisuke realises there’s already another person fighting the hollow. It’s dark, so he struggles to make out the form, but they’re dressed in a familiar looking kimono.

Still, if there’s a fight with a hollow happening, it’s theirs to deal with, not whoever this mystery person is. “Nakahara-san,” he orders.

“Sir,” Nakahara says, never one to waste a moment. The third seat flies forward, already calling, “Byakurai!”

The lightning bolt shoots from Nakahara’s finger. For a moment, Kisuke is mildly concerned that the one fighting the hollow had been caught up in the blast too, but his concern is misplaced. As the dust settles, they can see Ningyo’s body is fried, fur sticking up on end. The man holding the hollow forward like a shield doesn’t look surprised or concerned in the least.

Nakahara draws his zanpakutou, cautious.

“Yo, it’s you again,” a familiar voice says. Kisuke could recall that voice anywhere. It haunts his dreams and his memories in ways he’d rather not analyse. “You gonna give me your name this time?”

Ichigo drops the body of the hollow, uncaring of Nakahara as he strides towards Kisuke. His movements are fluid, rippling with untapped power and strength. The same shiver of predator rolls through Kisuke, and he knows Nakahara feels it too with the way his fingers turn white at how hard the third seat is gripping at the weapon.

“Fall back, Nakahara-san.”

For a moment, Kisuke thinks that Nakahara is going to argue, but then he retreats, taking up position one step behind Kisuke and to the right. His grip on his zanpakutou doesn’t loosen, but Kisuke is more worried about them pissing Ichigo off. He’s still not sure what Ichigo is, so he’s a complete unknown.

Ichigo smirks, eyes almost glowing in the moonlight. Or maybe just in general, Kisuke isn’t sure. “It’s been a while, Ichigo-san,” he says.

Ichigo hums. “Almost a hundred years, right? Can’t say I expected your kind to actually come and take care of the beasts of the night for a change. You usually take a more… hands off approach,” he says. Despite the blasé tone, Kisuke can sense the disapproval and judgement towards shinigami and he’s not sure how to handle it. Soul Society takes the protection of the human realm seriously, but perhaps not as often as they should. It makes it hard to argue.

Nakahara clearly isn’t in agreement, bristling. “Who are you to question the authority of Central 46 and the Soutaichou?” he demands.

The laugh from Ichigo is sardonic. It drips with amusement, like the demands from someone like Nakahara-san are nothing to him. They probably are.

“If you exist within a system that cannot be questioned by anyone, then it’s not a system that should exist,” Ichigo says. It’s said with the authority of someone who’s lived many years and seen the world and understands the powers and the danger of an unquestioned authority. Even still, Kisuke bristles too. He’s done a lot for the Gotei, some he’s proud of and some he’s less proud of, but at the end of the day, he knows that he’s done it for the betterment of all.

Ichigo must sense Kisuke’s thoughts, and it occurs to him that perhaps this man can read his thoughts. It wouldn’t be the most surprising thing he’s come across in recent years.

“Well, you can think whatever you want about your precious system. It’s of no consequence to me,” Ichigo says. “But what I don’t like, is your kind coming around here to play hero when you haven’t before now.”

Ichigo is staking a claim on his territory. Like he has a right to this land right here and everything within in.

“I see,” Kisuke says, cautious. “But I’m afraid we have to follow our orders, Ichigo-san. If we’re sent to take down a hollow, then it has to happen. Even if you kill us, more shinigami will be sent until we’ve taken the hollow back for testing, or we’ve confirmed its death.”

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo sighs. “That’s rather inconvenient for me,” he says.

Kisuke shrugs. “There’s nothing I can do about that.”

Humming, Ichigo narrows his eyes. He’s quiet for a minute, his eyes flickering between himself and Nakahara. “Fine,” he says finally. It doesn’t sound like an agreement, but Kisuke is just glad this hasn’t turned into a fight. He’s not sure the two of them alone would be enough to take down whatever Ichigo is.

“Then, we won’t bother you any further with this. Nakahara-san, grab the hollow and let’s head back to Seireitei,” Kisuke orders.

“But Taichou-”

“That was an order Nakahara-san,” Kisuke says, firming his voice. “Central 46 and the Soutaichou will decide whether or not Ichigo-san is a threat. We’ve accomplished our goal, so it’s time to leave.”

A slow smirk spreads over Ichigo’s lips and in a flash faster than Kisuke can register, he’s in front of Kisuke. “I can answer that for you, if you’d like?” he says. He bears his teeth almost like an animal, and Kisuke notes the sharpness of a couple of them, tucking the knowledge of them away with everything else he knows about Ichigo, admittedly small though his knowledge is.

“I can tell you’re dangerous without you saying as much, Ichigo-san,” Kisuke says blandly.

Ichigo grins, just this side of feral. “So you can,” he agrees. “And yet this Central and Soutaichou didn’t know I existed before now.”

Kisuke shrugs and doesn’t know how to explain that he didn’t want to tell them. That something about this powerful creature draws him in ways that Kisuke has never experienced before.

Blood rushes to Kisuke’s cheeks when he feels Ichigo caress his face, far gentler than his feral expression should have allowed for. Ichigo is an enigma. He screams danger, but he takes down hollows that are only a threat to the humans. He argues about the right to question authority while standing there professing his own claim to land. And Kisuke still can’t figure out what he is.

“Taichou,” Nakahara says. In a storage device, he has the body of the hollow carefully tucked away. He looks between Kisuke and Ichigo- with incredulity. It’s only then that Kisuke registers just how this might look.

“Forget that you ever saw me,” Ichigo says. The air practically swells and rolls with the power of those words. It’s so different from the gentle haze that Kisuke remembers experiencing. So much more dangerous. So much more powerful. He yearns to understand how it works.

Ichigo looks at him with a fondly-amused quirk to his lips. “You’d better get going, or your ‘hollow’ is going to wake up and escape that fancy prison you’ve created,” he warns.

Shaking off the desire that throbs in his core, Kisuke huffs. “As if anything I invented myself would ever break so easily.” He sniffs in offence.

The low chuckle warms Kisuke from head to toe. “Sorry.”

Huffing again, Kisuke turns to leave. “Kisuke,” he offers after a beat.

Ichigo should have been confused by the sudden name, but he only grins bright. The kind of brightness no one person should have when they have such an obvious dark side, but Ichigo doesn’t seem to play by any rules, so it’s no surprise that this is another one he flaunts. “I’ll see you again, Kisuke.”

Kisuke hums. This time, he can feel that Ichigo’s right.

By the time they reach Seireitei, Nakahara is confused about how they took down the hollow, unsure of the gaps in his memories. Kisuke waves him off. “Maa, maybe you’ve been working too hard, Nakahara-san. Take tomorrow off, maybe get checked out by the fourth if you’re worried,” he suggests.

And like the good soldier they are, Nakahara lets it go.

Kisuke doesn’t feel the slightest bit bad keeping the secret of what actually happened from them, or from the rest of Seireitei. He should, he knows, but there’s something about Ichigo that Kisuke can’t shake. He doesn’t think that Ichigo means them any harm. If he did, he had plenty of chances to attack them.

So instead of reporting Ichigo, Kisuke takes up looking into recorded creatures from the past, trying to find an existence that matches Ichigo. He’s old, much older than his almost teenage appearance suggests, so it only makes sense that he’d have to go back through more records than any sane person would want to on a whim.

He doesn’t find anything in the end, but memories of Ichigo’s ice-cold fingers against his cheek haunt him most nights.

Just what are you? Kisuke thinks.

They don’t meet again until Kisuke is on the run with the hollowfied shinigami, fleeing from Seireitei and most of the Gotei in hopes that they can survive to see another day. Damn Aizen and all his tricks. It’s difficult, being on the run with several taichous and fukutaichous that are battling against an internal being they never should have been melded with. Still, they make it to the only place Yoruichi and he can think of that will be safe. The human world.

They fall out of the Senkaimon gracelessly, and almost immediately, they’re moving. They don’t have a plan or anywhere they can go. Realistically, they don’t even know anything about the human world to try and blend with this society, but they can’t spend too long figuring it out. The Soutaichou and Central will be sending the Onmi after them before long, so they needed to get away before that.

Hirako and Sarugaki are arguing loudly about where they should go next when Kisuke feels the familiar energy. Even years later, Kisuke can recognise it anywhere. Hirako and Sarugaki fall silent immediately, heads turning to try and spot the new presence.

Ichigo doesn’t bother trying to hide himself. He approaches them with a familiar scowl. He’s wearing a blue Yukata and his hair is the exact same shade of orange that Kisuke still dreams about once a month at least.

“Yo, Kisuke. Long time no see,” Ichigo greets, raising his hand.

Kisuke can feel all eyes on him, boring into the back of his head as he walks forward. “Ichigo-san,” he greets. It feels awkward, talking to Ichigo when he’s being watched. But the truth is, right now he could really use a hand. The hollowfied shinigami are one more argument away from being true hollows again, and Kisuke doesn’t have any idea how he’ll contain them all if that happens. Ideally, he’d like to reverse the process, but for that he needs labs. He needs a space and equipment and time that he doesn’t have right now while they’re struggling to avoid the eyes of the Gotei.

“Where’s the party?” Ichigo asks. For a moment, it almost seems like Ichigo’s eyes glow, but when Kisuke blinks, they’re the same warm brown he’s come to recognise.

Clearing his throat, Kisuke glances back at his oddball group and then swallows. “This might be a lot to ask but do you might hiding a group of fugitives?” he asks. He bows low, ignoring the surprised reiatsu he can sense behind himself.

Ichigo coughs and Kisuke glances up. Are his cheeks pink? And when did he get so close? The speed and silence of Ichigo’s movements is astonishing even now.

“There’s no need for that, Kisuke,” Ichigo chides, forcing him to stand straight. “It’s not like I give a damn about that government of yours. C’mon.”

“Wait just a minute, you Orange-head! How are we meant to know we can trust you? And who are you exactly? How do you know Kisuke?” Hirako is glaring at Ichigo, arms crossed over his chest firmly.

Ichigo looks at him for a moment. The softness behind his scowl that Kisuke’s gotten used to seeing is nowhere to be seen. With a careless shrug, Ichigo steps back from Kisuke and turns around. He might as well be screaming that they aren’t a threat to him, and Kisuke knows it rubs his fellow shinigami the wrong way, especially with their newfound inner-hollows egging on their negative emotions. “I don’t really care what you do, asshole. You’re free to find your own place to stay. I’m not going to fight you over it,” Ichigo says.

“Oi! We’re not done talking to you!” This time it’s Sarugaki that’s shouting.

Kisuke doesn’t get a chance to stop her before she’s flying at Ichigo, her zanpakutou drawn.

Ichigo doesn’t even glance back, but one moment she’s there and the next she’s standing back with the everyone else. Or, standing may be the wrong word. She’ sprawled out on top of Hirako—definitely a purposeful decision on Ichigo’s part—and looking very dazed.

“What an interesting friend you have, Kisuke,” Yoruichi purrs.

Kisuke offers her a grin. “Maa, we’ve only met a couple of times.”

“And what a good couple of times it must have been.”

Glancing over at her, Kisuke fights the discomfort of her unasked questions. “Hardly. Ichigo-san’s a menace, as you can see,” he says, forcing levity into his tone.

“I’m right here, remember?” Ichigo calls back to them. He should be too far away to hear them, but Kisuke isn’t surprised he can still hear their conversations. Not much surprises him anymore when it comes to Ichigo. “You’d better hurry up and follow me, or I’m going to leave you guys behind and then you can find someone else to harbour your fugitive asses.”

Kisuke looks back at the hollowfied shinigami. They don’t look very excited about the prospect of following a man they don’t know anything about, but they must also realise the lack of options they all have. “Fine,” Muguruma agrees. “If you trust him then we’ll trust him too for now.”

Kisuke figures now wouldn’t be a good time to tell that he doesn’t trust Ichigo so much as feel like if nothing else, Ichigo wouldn’t hurt them, and that’s more than he can expect of anyone right now.

They follow Ichigo for a while as he leads through down back-street alleys until they reach what feels like the edge of the city. This far out, there doesn’t seem to be many buildings, but one of them sticks out. It’s large, almost like it was once a ryokan. “No-one will be able to find this place if I don’t want them to, so you’ll be able to lay low here for a while,” Ichigo says.

“If you don’t want them to, huh?” Aikawa mutters.

Ichigo rolls his eyes. “I already told you guys. You don’t need to stay with me if you don’t want to. I’m not going to make you,” he says.

“As if you could,” Sarugaki mumbles. Evidently, she’s still sulking over her thwarted attack. His fukutaichou (ex-fukutaichou now, he supposes?) is nothing if not volatile and childish on a good day. Today is not a good day.

There’s that flash of gold in Ichigo’s eyes again. This time Kisuke knows that he doesn’t imagine it. Just what the hell is Ichigo?

“Take your shoes off before you come inside. If you trek dirt through the halls, you’re the ones who’ll be cleaning it,” Ichigo orders.

“We’re not animals,” Aikawa says.

Kisuke isn’t so sure he’s right about that, but he doesn’t say a word to contradict him, lest this turn into another argument. It’s been a frankly horrendous day and Kisuke longs for somewhere to sleep and a chance for them all to understand what they’re going to do from here on out. Ichigo can’t shield them forever and Kisuke doesn’t want him to, but this little reprieve is much needed and very welcome.

“There’s food in the kitchen down that way if you guys eat food. I never really understood the rules of your kind. There are several bedrooms upstairs and a bathroom at the end of the hall. You’ll have to take turns, but I’m sure you guys can figure it out,” Ichigo says.

“Thank you,” Kisuke says, because it doesn’t seem like anyone else is going to.

Ichigo quirks a smile, the first one of the night. Kisuke’s heart jumps at the dazzling sight.

“Sure thing,” Ichigo says. “I’m headed out for a while.”

Kisuke nods in understanding. The other man had probably been out for a different reason when he felt Kisuke’s presence and came to check things out.

“When I come back, I’d love to hear all about how you ended up herding this lot,” Ichigo says. It’s phrased like a request, which Kisuke appreciates even though he knows the other man could’ve demanded to know what was going on much sooner. And Kisuke would have been powerless against the mysterious trick the Ichigo can use if the other man wanted to force it from him.

“I’ll explain it all later,” he promises. Before he even finishes the word, Ichigo is gone again. He turns around to see several shinigami staring him down. Sighing, Kisuke resigns himself to sleep taking a little longer yet.

“So let me get this straight. You’ve only met him twice,” Sarugaki says, voice slowly climbing in pitch,” and you expect us to trust he won’t just hand us over to the first person who asks about us?”

They’d moved into dining area with an attached kitchen on account of everyone’s shared hunger. A quick survey of the room had only found some senbei, rice, tsukemono made of cucumbers and daikon and a few peaches. There wasn’t a lot for so many people, but they made do without complaint.

“I’m not telling you to trust him,” Kisuke repeats. “I’m telling you to trust that I know him well enough-”

“You’ve only met him a couple times!”

Kisuke continues like Sarugaki isn’t yelling at him, well-accustomed to her fits, “to know that he doesn’t know anything about Soul Society and he doesn’t particularly care about how us shinigami do things.”

“And you’re certain he can be trusted, Kisuke?” Yoruichi asks.

Turning to look at his old-friend, Kisuke nods. “Even though I’ve only met Ichigo a couple of times, he’s been very clear about his stance on the Gotei,” he says. “Upset Nakahara-san quite a bit several years back by calling out the Gotei’s standards.”

Hirako snorts. “Doesn’t mean we can just trust him,” he says.

“You don’t get an opinion on who we can and can’t trust, Shinji,” Muguruma complains.

“Oi, what’s that meant to mean?”

“If it wasn’t for your fukutaichou, we wouldn’t be here,” Rose says.

“I was keepin’ an eye on him!”

Clearly not well enough, Kisuke thinks privately, but he holds his tongue. Feeding into this argument isn’t going to get them anywhere. Right now, they have more important things to focus on.

“Enough,” Yadomaru says. “Now is not the time to be laying blame.” She doesn’t yell, but the room falls silent. No doubt she’d perfected this tone on her taichou.

“Yadomaru-san is right,” Kisuke says. “If you don’t think you can trust Ichigo-san, then you’re welcome to leave. No-one’s stopping you.”

Unsurprisingly, no-one moves to leave. Why would they? For the moment, they’re fed and they have beds to sleep on away from the prying eyes of the Gotei, no matter how trustworthy they feel it is.

“So, now that we’ve established that everyone is choosing to stay here,” Yoruichi says, “we need to decide what we’re doing after this.” It’s a clear message: you’ve chosen to stay here, you don’t get to complain anymore about Ichigo. She leans forward, her eyes narrowed. Kisuke can practically hear the plans running through her mind.

“Do you think that it’s reversable?” Yadomaru asks.

Kisuke hums. “I don’t know,” he admits. “But I’m going to try.”

The hollowfied shinigami nod, but he can see the doubt in their eyes. He can’t blame them. His research was into removing the barrier between a hollow and a shinigami, not in how to put it back. The Hogyoku weighs heavy in his pocket, and he knows that it’s his only chance to fix things.

The room is silent now; everyone lost in their own thoughts before Kuna breaks it.

“Well, I’m tired,” she says and then proceeds to fall asleep right there at the table.

“Mashiro, go sleep in one of the rooms!” Muguruma complains.

The only answer they get is a snore.

Hirako sighs but his lips twitch. The tension in the room broken, everyone collectively agrees its time to get some rest in and one by one, they all leave, presumably determined to claim a bedroom each for themselves. Despite his claims, Muguruma still picks up his fukutaichou to move her somewhere else.

Before long, the only one left in the room is Kisuke. He wants to sigh as he looks at the dishes every single one of the shinigami had left on the table. I suppose I’ll be doing the dishes before I get any rest.

Kisuke’s not sure how long he’s asleep before the creaking of a floorboard wakes him. In an instant, there’s a kunai in his hand, hidden under the pillow he’s sleeping on and he’s looking across the room as best as he can without trying to reveal himself as being awake, so that he can get the jump on whoever the enemy is.

“Sorry,” Ichigo’s gruff voice filters through Kisuke’s half-asleep half-alert head.

“Ichigo?” Kisuke asks. His eyes rapidly adjust to the room. In the darkness, the glowing of Ichigo’s eyes is even more obvious.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” the other man sounds sincere and little upset, like he really wishes Kisuke has kept sleeping. “You’re in my room.”

It takes a minute before the second part registers in Kisuke’s mind, then he’s throwing the blankets off of the futon and getting up, subtly stashing his kunai in the folds of his shihakusho. “I didn’t realise, I apologise. It was the only room left,” he explains.

Ichigo waves a hand at him. He’s standing by the wardrobe in the corner of the room. Now that Kisuke’s brain has gotten a few hours of sleep and he’s starting to function properly again, he realises that there is far too much stuff in this room for it to be anything but constantly used.

“Don’t worry about it. Go back to sleeping, I don’t mind,” Ichigo says.

“I don’t want to kick you out of your bed when you’ve already helped us so much,” Kisuke argues.

Ichigo chuckles, like Kisuke being worried about his sleep is something to laugh at. Maybe it is. He still doesn’t know what Ichigo is so he has no idea how much sleep the other man needs to function.

“I’m okay, I promise. You look like you could use a few extra hours of sleep,” Ichigo says.

Kisuke opens his mouth to argue, but then he catches sight of Ichigo’s glowing eyes and remembers exactly what Ichigo can do. Part of him is tempted to see if Ichigo will order him. It’s been so many years and he still doesn’t understand how that particular ability works, but maybe if Ichigo used it on him just a few more times, he can figure it out. The science behind it has to be fascinating.

Much to his disappointment, Ichigo just flashes across the room and then pushes Kisuke gently back towards the bed. “Sleep some more, Kisuke,” Ichigo says, but there’s no power behind it.

Kisuke doesn’t pout but there’s laughter in Ichigo’s eyes. They’re glowing a little less now, closer to warm brown again, but he can still see the flecks. He wants to know what causes them too. Ichigo is such a interesting specimen.

“You’ll have plenty of time to pick my apart later, Kisuke,” Ichigo promises. “But you need to rest.”

“I’m fine,” Kisuke argues absently, because his mind is back to thinking about the logistics of reading minds.

He almost misses the hand flying towards him, a well-aimed punch towards his stomach, but his instincts kick in and then he’s catching Ichigo’s hand and moving to pull the kunai from his shihakusho. Before he can, Ichigo twists away, his body swiftly pressing into Kisuke’s back and a tantou to positioned at his throat. It brings back a flood of memories even through his haze of confusion. Then Ichigo is releasing him and pushing him back towards the bed, a well-placed foot tripping him so that he lands face first on the soft futon.

“Wha-” he tries to ask through the fabric in his face.

“You should’ve been able to block that,” Ichigo says. “You’re still too exhausted.”

Kisuke wants to complain about Ichigo’s methods, but he has to admit that the logic was sound. His heart is beating so fast and he’s still not entirely sure how he ended up in the bed again.

“Sleep.” Ichigo says.

Kisuke’s falling asleep before he can even think of how unfair this was.

It’s unclear how long he sleeps for, but when he wakes up again, Kisuke feels remarkably refreshed. Until he remembers that Ichigo made him fall asleep with that ability of his and suddenly, he’s annoyed.

Tracking down Ichigo in this house is quite easy. He finds the orange-haired man standing across from the hollowfied shinigami in what feels like a training yard in the back of the building.

“Yo,” Ichigo greets, his eyes flickering to find Kisuke the moment he steps outside.

“Urahara-san, you have to settle this!” Kuna declares, pointing at him.

Titling his head, Kisuke waits for someone to tell him what exactly is going on.

“Kuna is mad because she was sparring with Love, but then Love’s hollow was getting out of control and Kuna was going to get hurt, so Ichigo-kun stepped in and,” Hirako waves towards the shinigami knocked out a little further away. “She thinks he interrupted her match.”

“She was gonna be badly hurt or dead,” Ichigo says. The exasperation his tone tells Kisuke that this isn’t the first time he’s said this.

“I was not! I was going to win!” Kuna argues, swinging back to look at Ichigo. Her fists are clenched, like she’s ready to start throwing punches. She probably is.

Rose sighs from where he’s sitting on the ground off to the side. “Does it really matter?” he asks. “Just relax, Mashi-chan.”

“Of course it matters!” Kuna shouts, turning to glare at her fellow shinigami.

Kisuke wishes he was back in bed. Why does he need to play mediator for a group of over-powered shinigami-hollow hybrids and whatever Ichigo is?

“Maa, Kuna-san. Remember that’s we’re in Ichigo-san’s home. You need to be respectful of his space,” Kisuke reminds, feeling like he’s wrangling a child. Where is Muguruma? He should be the one taking care of his fukutaichou.

“I don’t care whose home this is-” Kuna starts before she’s cut off by a hand covering her mouth. Finally, Muguruma’s appeared.

Ichigo looks relaxed on the surface, but there’s something in his eyes, the way he’s watching them all. Like the first time he met Ichigo, Kisuke feels the shiver of predator over his body.

“Mashiro doesn’t mean that, Ichigo-san. We’re very grateful for you letting us stay in your home,” he says.

Kuna struggles in his arms but the ex-taichou doesn’t release her until she presumably bites him and it ends with Muguruma cursing and stepping away from her.

“I already told you all that you can do whatever you want,” Ichigo says, shrugging.

Kisuke snorts, remembering why he’d come out here in the first place. Apparently they can do whatever the hell they want but he wants to just stay awake and that’s unacceptable? That doesn’t make any sense.

“We appreciate that,” Muguruma says. The thread of diplomacy is strained at best between both sides, but Kisuke knows that if Ichigo didn’t want them here, they wouldn’t be.

“Now that ya’re up though, Urahara, we can see about reversing this hollowifcation process,” Hirako suggests.

Ichigo’s eyebrows drew together. “Reverse?” he asks, looking at Kisuke for clarification. “Hollows are the creatures of the night, right? That’s how you refer to them?”

“Yes,” Kisuke says. Fiddling with in his pocket, Kisuke removes the glowing purple orb he’s been hiding. “This is what Aizen-san used to break the barrier between shinigami and hollow. I have one of my own and I’m hoping that I can recreate that barrier and reverse the process.”

Ichigo tilts his head. “But why are you trying to reverse something that’s already been done?” he asks. He sounds genuinely confused, like he can’t comprehend wanting to go back to being something you were before. Maybe he can’t. He’s not sure if Ichigo was born the way that he is now, or if he was created, but Kisuke can’t say that with abilities like Ichigo he’d be willing to go back to being ‘normal’.

A sandal flies through the air towards Ichigo but he dodges it easily. Behind Kisuke, Sarugaki is standing there looking frustrated. “Because we didn’t ask for this!” she shouts.

Ichigo doesn’t look any less confused.

“How would you feel if someone combined you with your sworn enemy?” Hirako asks, derisive.

Shrugging, Ichigo looks up at the sky. “Probably the same as I do now. You’ll get used to it,” he says, with all the surety of someone whose experienced exactly that.

“I don’t want to get used to it,” Hirako says. The surrounding shinigami nod.

Ichigo shrugs again. “None of my business what you do,” he says. His eyes meet Kisuke’s. “Don’t be upset if it doesn’t work though. You’re alive, that’s a lot more than whoever came before you can say.”

That feels like Ichigo knows something that they don’t. Which makes no sense because Kisuke hasn’t had a chance to tell him anything about how things happened in Seireitei, or about the people involved in the plot that led them to right now. He’s getting annoyed with just how many mysteries Ichigo has going.

In a flash, Ichigo is gone from the backyard. He doesn’t tell them where he’s going, doesn’t even offer a goodbye this time. Just there one moment and then gone.

Everyone turns to Kisuke like he’ll have the answers for what the hell is going on there. He doesn’t so he just claps his hands together and fakes a grin. “Shall we get started?”

Several weeks go by with no luck in reversing the hollowfied shinigami. They’re stable now, which is better than things were, but he’s beginning to lose hope for reversing the entire process. The more he researches, the more it seems likely that what’s been destroyed cannot be rebuilt. It’s frustrating, and the guilt for not being able to do more eats away at him.

Ichigo hasn’t come to the house very often. Every once in a while, he’ll wake Kisuke when he enters his room for a garment or something else he needs, but otherwise he keeps his distance. The only one he usually communicates with is Kisuke.

“Whenever I greet him, he just nods at me,” Rose complains at dinner that night.

“He’s letting us stay in his home and protecting us. Does it matter?” Love asks.

“I think he’s weird,” Kuna declares.

Muguruma hits her on the head. “You should be politer,” he says.

Kuna sticks her tongue out at him in response. “But it’s true. He’s never here. He doesn’t eat or drink or sleep. What does he even have this place for if he isn’t using it?” she complains.

“We still don’t know what he is, right?” Hirako muses. He sounds casual, but Kisuke recognises the curiosity and need to know behind it. Hirako was never Onmi, but he’s ruthless when it comes to knowing whatever will help him in the long run.

Just like they always do when Ichigo comes up, everyone turns to look at Kisuke, like he’ll magically have some new information to share with them all.

“I haven’t asked him what he is, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Kisuke says, taking another bite of his rice.

Hirako slumps. “Damn. Every time I try to talk to the kid, he skirts away from me. Always looks at me like I’m a cockroach.”

Kisuke’s not entirely sure that Ichigo is a kid, but he doesn’t correct the other man. He’s not sure how long Hirako has been alive either, so perhaps they all are children to him. Hirako’s one of the older shinigami serving in Seireitei. Or was, Kisuke supposes. They don’t serve anyone except themselves right now.

“Probably because you act like one,” Sarugaki snarks at Hirako before stealing a piece of fish from his bowl of rice. Predictably, they end up fighting across the table until Muguruma gets fed up and kicks them both further away so that everyone else can keep eating.

“Perhaps you should ask him,” Aikawa suggests. “He likes you more than the rest of us combined.”

Kisuke hums but its not a noise of agreement. “I don’t know about that. He and Yoruichi hit it off,” he says. There are snorts of laughter around the table. Yoruichi in her cat form has been pouncing on Ichigo every chance she gets. He’s managed to dodge every time, but he always looks at her with a rare quirk to his lips and doesn’t tell her to stop.

“Still, ya’re definitely the favourite,” Hirako says. The kimono he’d acquired a few days into their stay is rumpled and not tied properly anymore, but the man himself is otherwise unaffected from his tousle with Sarugaki. “You’ve known him the longest too.”

“I recall someone complaining that my two meetings with him weren’t enough to warrant trust,” Kisuke says, raising an eyebrow.

Everyone at the table shifts awkwardly. “Well, it’s not like we entirely trust the guy still,” Muguruma says. “But we might be able to trust him better if he tells us more about himself.”

“I don’t think it’s really any of your business who or what I am,” Ichigo says. His voice startles the room, and they all spin to look at Ichigo in the doorway looking as unimpressed as usual with his arms crossed. He’s in a black yukata with a moon design this time. It suits him well.

“You can’t blame us for being curious,” Rose says.

Ichigo rolls his eyes. “It’s better if you don’t know. You’re only staying here until you’re prepared enough to go and hunt down your ‘Aizen’ right? You don’t need to know anything about me for that. Just recover and then get the hell out of my house.”

“You could help us, you know,” Hirako suggests. The entire table swings to look at him. They hadn’t discussed that at all. The ex-taichou shrugs unrepentant. “I’ve seen ya move, Ichigo. You’re Shihouin fast. And you’re powerful.”

Everyone’s watching the two of them carefully, waiting to see how their host is going to act. Unsurprisingly, Ichigo’s eyebrow twitches and he looks utterly uninterested. “I’m not interested in fighting your battle, Shinji. Train your powers, learn to use them properly, and then go do it yourself.”

Before anyone can continue the argument, Ichigo is turning around and walking out of the room.

Hirako slumps over the table. “Well, that could’ve gone better.”

Muguruma snorts. “I’ll say. You could’ve had him kicking us out.”

Hirako waves a hand in dismissal of that idea. “He’d have kicked us out already if that was his plan, the brat,” he says. “Plus, he won’t do that to Urahara.”

“What do I have to do with anything?” Kisuke asks.

“No, that makes sense,” Aikawa agrees, and then entire table nods along like there’s an inside joke that he’s missing. He probably is, given their grins.

“You think if we send Urahara in to flirt with him, he’d give in?” Hirako muses.

Kisuke chokes on his tea. Sarugaki sounds disgusted.

“It might work,” Yadomaru says. “Anyone could tell you that Ichigo-san is interested in you, Urahara.”

“I’m not going to seduce Ichigo into joining our cause,” Kisuke denies.

“Why not? You think he’s good-looking right?” Yoruichi asks, sauntering into the room with a grin on her face. She’d probably been annoying Ichigo right before this.

Spluttering, Kisuke bemoans ever mentioned that to her in passing. He’d thought she’d keep it to herself the traitor.

“I see it as a win-win. We get a powerful ally, and you get to fuck a hot guy. That’s every Onmi members dream assignment,” she says.

Looking down at the cup of tea in his hand, Kisuke desperately wishes it was something stronger. “It’s not happening,” he repeats, getting up from the table to find somewhere slightly more sane.

Kisuke shakes his head when he hears them continue discussing the pros and cons of the operation like he’s going to change his mind.

The only place where Kisuke knew he’d get some peace to think is in Ichigo’s room, so heads upstairs, only to startle when he notices the orange-haired man laying on the futon, buried under the covers.

Stepping around the floorboard he knows creaks; he walks over until he’s standing over Ichigo. His hair is a wreck on the pillow, but it just makes him look even more attractive if Kisuke’s being honest.

“You just gonna watch me sleep?” Ichigo asks. His voice sounds deeper even through the muffled covers.

“I’ve never seen you sleep before now,” Kisuke says. He sits on the floor beside Ichigo, crossing his legs. “I was starting to think you don’t need to.”

“I don’t need as much sleep as you shinigami seem to, but every now and again it’s helpful for me,” Ichigo admits.

Kisuke adds it to his mental notes. “Is that normal for your kind?” he asks.

Ichigo huffs and it sounds amused. “You fishing for information about what I am too now, Kisuke?”

“Too?” he asks.

“Shinji.”

“Ah,” Kisuke says. “I apologise for them. They don’t mean any harm.”

Ichigo shifts, and then he’s sitting up. His yukata is the same as earlier, but it’s untied and falls loosely off his shoulder.

Kisuke’s eyes trail along Ichigo’s collarbone before he catches himself and forces himself to look at the other man’s eyes instead. His cheeks heat a little at the knowing look Ichigo’s giving him.

“You gonna follow their advice and seduce me over to your cause?” Ichigo asks. He doesn’t sound overly upset about the conversation he’d heard thankfully.

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop on shinigami that are plotting,” Kisuke chides, willing himself not to blush again. He’s Onmi trained for Soul King’s sake, he’s actually had to seduce people over to his cause before. He shouldn’t be blushing like some kid fresh out of the academy. “How are we meant to come up with plans to surprise you if you’re always listening in on us.”

Ichigo snorts. “You guys are so loud that I don’t even have to try to hear you,” he says.

Unable to refute that, Kisuke sighs. “I’ll be sure to tell them that their loud discussion made their plan impossible.”

Ichigo hums. “I don’t know. You haven’t actually tried to seduce me yet, so how can we know if it’ll work?”

Kisuke freezes. What is that meant to mean? Does Ichigo want him to try and seduce him or is he joking?

“Kisuke?” Ichigo asks.

Clearing his throat, Kisuke hums. “I should be letting you rest. I’m just going to-” he rushes out of the room before Ichigo can say anything else.

He needs to do some thinking.

When he returns to Ichigo’s room that night, it’s predictably empty.

Another couple months pass. They see Ichigo here and there, but otherwise the man seems to be avoiding the house even more than he used to.

Hirako eyes Kisuke suspiciously. “Did you and Berry-chan fight or something?”

Kisuke frowns. “Not that I’m aware of,” he says.

“Then you wanna tell me why he’s here even less than he used ta be. This is his damn house and I’ve barely caught sight of him for long enough to try and convince him to join our side of the war,” Hirako complains.

It’s late evening and more of the Visored (as they’ve decided to call themselves) is off relaxing around the house. It’s just the two of them sitting out on the engawa drinking some sake that had appeared one night after Kisuke had voiced his agreement of missing the drink.

“Perhaps he’s just busy,” Kisuke offers, sipping at his cup.

Hirako snorts. “Yeah, and I’m still taichou of the fifth.”

They fall silent for a while, each of them caught up in their own thoughts.

“You know, he seems like he’d be an alright kid,” Hirako says. “You sure you don’t want to go for him?”

“I’m not seducing him for your grand plan,” Kisuke repeats for what feels like the millionth time.

Waving a hand, Hirako rolls his eyes. “Not for that. Just in general. You like him right?” he asks.

Kisuke swallows. “I barely know him,” he points out.

“And yet,” Hirako says. He doesn’t follow the statement up with anything, but he doesn’t need to. Kisuke gets the picture.

“I’ll talk to him,” Kisuke agrees.

Hirako grins. “You do that. And then tell him to stop bein’ a stranger in his own home. We’ve been here long enough without anyone findin’ us. There’s a lot of trust in that, ya know. You’re not the only one who wants to get to know him better.”

Kisuke inclines his head and they continue drinking in silence for a while longer.

That night, the floorboard to Ichigo’s room creaks, waking Kisuke up from his sleep. In the dark light, Ichigo’s eyes look a little duller than usual, their golden hue skewing more orange. “Ichigo-san?” Kisuke asks, clearing his throat when he realises how raspy it sounds.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Ichigo says. He looks embarrassed, his cheeks a stark pink against his otherwise pale skin.

“It’s fine,” Kisuke says before pausing whatever else he was about to say. Pale skin? Ichigo’s skin is usually a warmer hue. Looking back over at the other man, he narrows his eyes. “You look like you’re not doing great.”

Ichigo grunts. “Go back to sleep,” he says instead of answering.

The smell of metallic scent of blood fills the room. As if Kisuke can go back to sleep now. Getting up from the futon, he makes his way over to the light switch and turns it on. The invention of these lights was truly handy.

Looking over to where Ichigo is, Kisuke blinks in surprise. Whatever colour the yukata Ichigo’s wearing used to be, half of it is a very muddy brown and there’s a long rip across the back. He’s sure the front doesn’t look any better. “What happened?”

Ichigo shrugged. “Just a little scuffle with a feral cat. Nothing to be worried about,” he promises. He offers a smile over his shoulder, but Kisuke just frowns. What kind of feral cat can cause Ichigo to bleed so much he looks pale.

“I’m seriously fine, Kisuke. Go back to sleep.”

“No.”

Their eyes meet and for a minute, Kisuke thinks Ichigo is going to order him into bed. But then he looks away. “Fine, do whatever you want,” he grumbles.

If he didn’t mean that as blanket permission, he really should have been more specific, Kisuke thinks as he walks over to Ichigo. The least he can do is help the other man with his injuries.

Ichigo glances back over his shoulder right as Kisuke reaches him. Reaching out, Kisuke drags his fingers over the torn fabric on Ichigo’s back. Surprisingly, there’s no wetness or blood even though the edges of the fabric definitely show signs of blood.

“I heal quickly,” Ichigo explains. “Which is why I told you I’m fine. And you can go back to sleep.”

“How quickly do you heal?” Kisuke asks, tracing along the cut on Ichigo’s shoulder as well. It was exactly the same, no blood in sight even though there clearly was. The fabric is still wet so just how fresh were the wounds.

“A couple minutes is usually enough time,” Ichigo admits.

“Amazing,” Kisuke mutters. That kind of regeneration is on par with high-level hollows. He’s never seen anything else with a similar capabilities.

Ichigo’s lips quirk. “Well, there’s a caveat. Are you going to keep touching me, or can I change into some fresh clothes?” he sounds derisive, but when Kisuke glances up, his cheeks are bright red. Is he embarrassed?

“That depends, are you going to explain the caveat to me?” Kisuke asks, mostly teasing.

Ichigo shudders, his eyes slipping closed for a moment before they reopen. They look almost red, now that Kisuke is closer, but the flecks of gold are still there.

“It’s better that you don’t know,” Ichigo says finally. Kisuke pouts. He’s tempted to keep touching Ichigo to see if that will get him a proper reply, but he doesn’t want to push his luck.

Stepping back, he turns away. “I’m going to find out eventually. You know that the others want to get to know you better.”

“They want me to fight in their war,” Ichigo corrects.

Kisuke rolls his eyes. “Isn’t it boring always being a lone wolf?” he asks.

“Everyone’s safer this way,” Ichigo says. There’s some more rustling and then, “you can turn around again.”

Doing as much, Kisuke turns around to find Ichigo in a plain black yukata. The other man is rummaging through the wardrobe for something. “Everyone in this house can take care of themselves. They’re an annoying bunch, but they’re loyal,” Kisuke points out.

“It’s better this way,” Ichigo repeats, glancing over at Kisuke with sad eyes before turning back to his search and letting out a noise of relief when he evidently finds what he was looking for.

Kisuke lets the subject go. Pushing Ichigo never seems to get him anywhere. Instead, he tries to peer past Ichigo to see what he’s holding. “You still look quite pale,” he comments.

“It’ll be fine soon,” Ichigo assures him. In his hand is small ceramic bottle. Medicine?

Popping it open, Ichigo tips it down his throat in one go. His eyes close for a minute before reopening. They’re back to the gold again and Kisuke can already see his complexion warming.

“What kind of medicine is that?” Kisuke asks, fingers reaching for the bottle before he can think better of it.

Moving his hand away, Ichigo rolls his eyes. They’re fading into warm brown again. “Just something to make me feel better. Leave it alone.”

Kisuke pouts. “Come on Ichi-kun, you haven’t told me anything tonight. I’ve got so many questions,” he complains. He doesn’t mean to use a nickname, but the second it falls from his lips, he knows Ichigo is stuck with it.

The orange-haired man winces like he knows it.

“Go to sleep, Kisuke,” Ichigo says.

“Make me,” Kisuke dares.

If anything, Ichigo looks even more exasperated than before. “You can’t goad me into making you do things all the time,” Ichigo says.

Raising an eyebrow, Kisuke doesn’t have to use words to tell Ichigo that he disagrees. “If you don’t make me, then I’m just not going to sleep.”

“Then enjoy being exhausted,” Ichigo says. He’s probably going for scathing, but he just sounds like Yadomaru used to when dealing with Kyouraku. There’s too much fondness in it. Kisuke’s traitorous heart flutters but he ignores it.

“Since we’ve decided that I’m not sleeping, why don’t you join me for a while longer,” Kisuke offers.

There’s suspicion in Ichigo’s eyes, but he comes to sit down near Kisuke. “I’m not telling you anything else about me tonight,” Ichigo warns.

Kisuke shrugs. “How about I tell you about us instead?” he offers.

Ichigo doesn’t voice any complaints, so Kisuke settles in to tell Ichigo his story.

After that night, Kisuke raids Ichigo’s wardrobe to try and find more of those ceramic medicine bottles, but either it was the only one Ichigo owned or—more than likely—he’d predicted what Kisuke was going to do and moved all of them elsewhere. He should feel guilty, but he only finds himself being even more curious about what it is to have Ichigo hiding it so carefully.

The only other noticeable change in things after that night is that Ichigo starts showing up more often. Not at mealtimes or any time specific, but sometimes when they’re all sparring, the visored slowly learning to wield their new abilities, he’ll show up and give them advice or be a new face to fight against. Sometimes he’ll show up on the engawa to drink with a couple of them on the quiet nights. Usually on those nights, Hirako will try to get him to join their cause. Kisuke’s surprised Ichigo hasn’t punched him for his attempts.

It's another one of those nights tonight. Kisuke is sitting with Ichigo, just the two of him. It’s only tea in their cups and Ichigo hasn’t touched his at all, but the silence is comfortable.

A loud crash comes from inside and Ichigo rubs his temples which Kisuke chuckles. “I’m going to start charging you guys for how much shit you break,” Ichigo complains.

“Feel free to charge the Gotei after we take Aizen down,” Kisuke offers.

Ichigo hums. “I’d have to keep a ledger then. I don’t know how long it’s going to be before you guys actually try to take him down,” he says.

“Faster if you join us,” Kisuke points out, mostly to tease Ichigo.

Ichigo rolls his eyes. “I have my own battles to fight,” he says distantly.

Humming, Kisuke looks over at him. It’s almost like Ichigo is seeing something else entirely when he stares at the world sometimes, like he’s so far away from reality that Kisuke can’t reach him.

“You know we’d be happy to help with your battles too, right?” Kisuke offers.

Ichigo startles and then looks at Kisuke with wide eyes. That’s a no on realising that then. Kisuke wants to laugh. It’s been so many months of living together and getting to know each other, and while they still don’t know what Ichigo is, he knows that when he started showing his face around here more often, all of the visored warmed up to him quickly enough. They’re all friends at this point, even if Ichigo apparently hadn’t noticed.

“I don’t need anyone to fight my battles,” Ichigo says finally. “You can’t really get involved anyway.”

“Because of whatever your mysterious background is?” Kisuke guesses.

Ichigo hums and then shrugs. “Not just that,” he admits. “You’re all too weak.”

Years ago, if you’d called this group of shinigami weak, Kisuke would have laughed at you. Their gaggle is made up of some of the best shinigami the Gotei has ever known. And yet, they’d all been beaten so soundly by Aizen, Tousen and Gin that it makes a mockery of their positions. Not to mention with the visored having to relearn how to fight entirely well, Ichigo’s not wrong.

“They’re getting stronger though,” Kisuke points out.

Ichigo shakes his head, looking sad. “You’ll never be strong enough,” he says. “But I’ve come to peace with that.”

Kisuke doesn’t push any harder, just hums. In the back of his mind, he considers just what kind of battles Ichigo could be fighting every time he leaves the house that are so dangerous he’s given up on ever having someone help him.

It a few months later that Kisuke feels like he’s going through déjà vu. He’s not in bed this time when Ichigo stumbled isn’t the room. He was sitting at the table, trying to read one of the books he’d come across in Ichigo’s room. The orange-haired man looks terrible, his skin pale, eyes distant and duller than usual. His clothes are barely intact and there’s a few cuts that still haven’t fades. Kisuke should be worried, but mostly he’s just curious and the other man hasn’t seemed to notice him sitting in the room, so it’s too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Walking over to the pantry, Ichigo pulls a familiar ceramic bottle from the back and pops it open, tipping it into the back of his throat. He pulls a second one from the same corner, drinking it down greedily. Kisuke wishes he could see Ichigo’s eyes. They change so often, and he’s been desperate to figure out the reason behind it.

There’s a moment when Kisuke thinks Ichigo is going to realise that he’s sitting in the room as well, but it doesn’t come. Ichigo just leaves the room, presumably heading up to his bedroom to change.

Once he’s sure Ichigo’s gone, Kisuke walks over to the pantry. Peering inside, it takes him a moment to locate the false wall and open it reveal a collection of the ceramic bottles. Pulling one of them out, Kisuke almost grins in victory.

Popping the cork from the bottle, he looks inside. The liquid is dark and red looking. Interesting. Sniffing it, Kisuke pauses. Metallic copper invades his senses. Ichigo’s medicine is blood?

Smelling the ‘medicine’ again, Kisuke frowns. He’s not mistaken; that’s definitely blood. What kind of creature uses blood as a medicine?

Re-corking the bottle and putting it back where it belongs, he closes the false backing, leaving everything the way he found it. Finally, he has something more specific to research with.

It doesn’t take long to find human folktales about creatures that drink blood. Vampires, they were called. Supposedly they were a myth, but then, humans considered shinigami to be myths as well, so there was truth to be found in every story.

Kisuke loses an entire day to his research. Now that he knew what he was looking for, he found numerous books in the house on the subject. Each of them had a slightly different tale to tell when it came to vampires. Some said they couldn’t function in the daylight, something he knew was false of Ichigo as the very least, or that they didn’t have reflections (he hasn’t tested that one yet). But one thing they all agree on is that vampires need blood to function.

The scientist in him really wants to test all the different theories—figure out which of them were correct and which of them were just stories. But that would mean revealing to Ichigo that he knew what Ichigo was, and he still doesn’t know how to go about that.

Thankfully, his chance to bring it up comes along only a few days later. Ichigo stumbles into his room looking exhausted.

“Are you okay, Ichi-kun?” Kisuke asks, already getting up from bed. It’s early evening and Kisuke hadn’t been trying to sleep yet, so the light is still on, which makes it easier to get a good look at Ichigo. His skin is pale, and his hair almost looks singed—like he’s been around fire.

“Fine,” Ichigo grunts.

“Do you need some of your medicine?” Kisuke offers.

Ichigo glances over at Kisuke. He’s not too tired to offer a questioning eyebrow, probably thinking that Kisuke just wants to get another look at his medicine. “I have to get more, I ran out,” he admits. “I’ll be fine until then. A little rest and I’ll be good as new.”

Kisuke hums but his mind is racing. If it’s just blood that Ichigo needs, then any one of the people in the house right now could give him theirs. It’s not like they don’t have enough to spare. All he’d have to do is ask.

But Kisuke knows he won’t. That’s just not how Ichigo works. It’s been almost a year since they started living with Ichigo now and never once has he asked for anything in return for housing them. He got them clothing, feeds them and puts up with an admittedly volatile group of hollowfied shinigami (himself, Yoruichi and Tessai notwithstanding of course) and never once has he complained except when their fights break things.

“You know, I found something interesting not that long ago,” Kisuke starts.

Even though his confused, Ichigo hums for Kisuke to continue. It’s endearing, how much he tries to be a good listener sometimes.

“Turns out, there’s a false backing in one of the cupboards in the kitchen,” Kisuke continues.

Ichigo freezes, his entire body going tense. “Is there?” he asks.

 “You know, Ichi-kun, if its blood you need, you could’ve just asked,” Kisuke says. He’s going for blasé even though part of him is so curious what it would feel like. There’s conflicting reports on what being bitten by a vampire feels like, and Kisuke is nothing if not fascinated by the concept.

Ichigo can’t look any paler, his skin already practically white, but his eyes are wide and disbelieving, flickering between Kisuke and the door like he’s a trapped animal. “I’m not going to- going to drink from you,” he refuses.

It’s not a surprising response, but unfortunately for Ichigo, Kisuke is nothing if not stubborn. “I don’t know that you can afford to refuse me,” he says.

Ichigo glares at him. “You can’t make me do anything,” he points out.

“Well, I don’t have any powers of mind-suggestion, if that’s what you mean,” Kisuke agrees before grinning. It must unsettle Ichigo because he takes a step back. “I have other means though.”

“What does that even mean?” Ichigo demands.

Kisuke shrugs and then in one swift movement, he pulls a shuriken from the folds of his yukata and drags it across his arm. It’s not a deep cut, but it doesn’t need to be. He watches Ichigo carefully, sees the way the other boy closes his eyes, lips clenched together like that’ll help.

Determined, Kisuke steps closer and holds his wrist up to Ichigo’s mouth.

“Kisuke-” Ichigo tries. He sounds pained, Kisuke is torturing him. Maybe he is, but it’s better than letting Ichigo die because he’s too stubborn to drink from someone willing to offer him blood.

“Drink, Ichigo,” Kisuke orders, deliberately painting red blood across Ichigo’s lips.

Ichigo’s self-control visibly shatters. His grip is almost painfully tight as he pulls Kisuke close and laps at the skin. He doesn’t bite, resolutely just taking what seeps from the wound, but Kisuke doesn’t voice any complaints for the moment. Even just the small dregs make a difference, he can tell.

All too soon, Ichigo lets go of Kisuke’s wrist and then pushes him away. His eyes are back to looking like a trapped animal, wild and in search of the exit.

“Fuck, this wasn’t meant to happen,” Ichigo mutters. It’s quiet for a moment and then, “shut the fuck up, this is your fault in the first place.

Is Ichigo talking to himself?

Just as he solves one mystery, another one arises. Kisuke reaches out, ignoring the way Ichigo flinches away.

“Shit, I’m sorry Kisuke.”

Raising an eyebrow, Kisuke stares at Ichigo and for the first time he feels like the kid that Hirako keeps calling him. “Why are you apologising? I forced you into drinking my blood, if you can even call it that when you don’t bite me,” Kisuke says. If he was a better person, he would apologise for doing as much, but he’s never claimed to be a good person and he isn’t sorry at all, so he doesn’t.

Ichigo swallows. “Yeah okay,” he agrees. He seems to be calmer now. Which is good because while the vampire is starting to look a little better, there’s no-way that little bit of blood was enough.

“You need more blood,” Kisuke says.

“I’m fine-”

“You’re not,” Kisuke cuts him off. “Drink from me.”

Ichigo makes a wounded noise. “I can go and find someone else to drink from,” he argues.

Kisuke huffs. Moving as fast as he can, he pushes Ichigo towards the futon. He knows Ichigo is letting it happen, but he’s okay with that. Especially since he knows the vampire isn’t expecting Kisuke to trip him, dumping Ichigo onto the futon similar to how Ichigo had done all those months ago. It’s proof that he’s in no condition to hunt for other people.

Crouching down beside Ichigo, Kisuke smirks. “When are you going to get that I want you to drink from me,” he laments.

“Why would you want that?” Ichigo asks, incredulous.

Kisuke just stares until Ichigo runs a hand through his hair, looking at the ceiling like it holds the answers to the universe.

“So?” Kisuke asks. “Do I need to cut myself again or are you going to drink my blood?”

Ichigo mutters something under his breath and then he’s pulling Kisuke close and flipping them so that he’s pinned beneath the vampire. Even in this condition, Ichigo’s strength is impressive. Leaning down, Ichigo kisses Kisuke’s pulse point.

He’d asked for this and yet Kisuke can’t help the way his heart speeds up at the action and his breath catches in his throat. He’s almost certain his cheeks are pink. He waits for the bite.

“Sleep.”

Caught off guard, Kisuke struggles to fight the compulsion. His eyelids are suddenly heavy and it’s so hard to keep them open, but still, he fights the urge.

Ichigo chuckles and it sounds far too good for someone cruelly refusing Kisuke’s very innocent wish to be bitten.

“Sleep.” Ichigo repeats. The room rolls with the power behind the compulsion.

Kisuke falls asleep.