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Renji cracks one eye open and immediately wishes he could go back to sleep. It’s still dark out and there is a tiny foot in his face (a common occurrence). His alarm is blaring across the room, signalling that he better get his ass out of bed or suffer the obnoxious pop tunes. He has to purposefully set it to something that makes his ears bleed and place his phone all the way across the room or he’ll never get out of bed. This unfortunately has the side effect of making him super pissy in the mornings but it does the trick.
Not that he can be choosy, he set it extra early today because it’s the first day back to school (for Yachiru) and the first day of preschool (for Ichika). He doesn’t know yet how Ichika’s back to school routine will be but Yachiru’s requires: the perfect outfit, the prettiest lunch and her favourite breakfast— ‘Unicorn Pancakes’ (which is just pink food coloured pancakes with whipped cream and sprinkles).
He dislodges the tiny foot (it’s Ichika’s this time, she’s getting a bad habit of sleeping in their room every night) and goes to shut off his alarm so he can get started making the girl’s lunches. Normally he just makes sure they get a balanced lunch and healthy snacks. Yachiru has a sweet tooth even bigger than he does so he’s gotta be extra sneaky about the vegetables. Today is special though, he always goes that extra mile for back to school and her birthday.
He makes pretty much everything in their lunches varying shades of pink. They each get Sakura onigiri, tamagoyaki, cherry tomatoes (which Yachiru probably won’t eat) and various ham and cheese cut-outs in the shapes of rabbits and stars.
Once the girl’s bento’s are packed he double checks their backpacks. Yachiru always insists to pack it herself which is why Renji has to run customs on it. That girl doesn’t always have the right idea of what’s “appropriate” to bring to school (she had brass knuckles in there once, he doesn’t wanna know where she got them from or what she wanted to use them for). Then again, one of her dads runs a tattoo parlour and the other is arguably a mafia boss (Renji’s never asked for details and honestly, the less he knows, the better) so Yachi’s sense of “appropriate” was bound to get skewed at some point.
Finding nothing incriminating (in either of their backpacks) he goes to check to see if the rest of his family is getting up. They’re on the clock today, everything has to line up just right since it’s not just him and Ken seeing them off. Rukia will be there too, wanting to take plenty of pictures of Ichika and all the fussing that comes with her baby’s very first day of school.
Renji shares joint custody with Rukia. They agreed for Ichika’s first school day that Renji would get her in the morning and Rukia would get her in the evening, that way they both get to experience Ichika’s first day (Rukia had wanted the morning but conceded since she’s not good at making special bento’s).
Him and Rukia had a very amicable divorce, so they still see each other on a regular basis and usually have no problem hashing out details for co-raising their kid. It had been a mellow thing, just like their marriage; a mutual understanding between two people who’ve known each other almost their whole lives. And he is forever grateful for it, not only because she could’ve easily strong-armed him for full custody(she makes way more money than he does) but also because he knows how bad divorces usually go. Ichigo’s had been particularly hurtful and messy because Ichigo (who is now dating Rukia, to the surprise of fucking nobody) hadn’t had a mutual divorce. He’d had to break Orihime’s heart.
Renji checks his phone to see how much time they have left until drop-off. The girls have to be ready to go so they have enough time to eat their breakfast nice and leisurely (there will be no puking on this day) before everybody gets herded into the car.
He’s up the stairs to check into their bedroom to see if Ken’s up when he hears commotion from the girl’s shared bathroom. Renji pokes his head in to see how far Ken has got them ready. What he sees never fails to make him smile.
Nobody would look at Zaraki Kenpachi—with his massive 6’7” frame, eyepatch, and scared face and be able to imagine him tying his seven year-old daughter’s hair into pigtails with practised ease. Ichika’s already got her red hair pulled back into a ponytail with a big white bow. She keeps turning her head this way and that, checking all angles of her ponytail in the mirror.
They’re all still in their pajama’s though. “Fifteen minutes until breakfast.” He says this more to Ken than the girl’s, Ken knows this shows gotta run smooth or else. He hears Ken give a grunt in acknowledgment.
Kenpachi and Rukia don’t exactly see eye-to-eye (thats not a height joke) but they tolerate each other, mostly for his sake, and he appreciates that.
Renji leaves Ken to it. He’s a pro at handling any last minute appearance tantrums.
He starts the coffee pot for Ken, the tea kettle for himself and gets to work on making his family pink pancakes.
When everybody makes their way downstairs to the dining room (Renji’s got everybody’s plates set up) he notices two things. The first is that Yachiru is wearing a tutu, mardigra beads, a hello kitty t-shirt, black and white striped stockings and her favourite jean jacket (with all its various sailor moon patches). The second is that in contrast to Yachiru’s bouncy enthusiasm, Ichika is practically dragging her heels, looking down at her feet with a pouty expression. If Yachi’s outfit of choice is colourful and mismatched, Ichika’s is damn near plain. She’s wearing a black hoodie with some pink sequins, a black skirt and white leggings underneath. His kid looks like she’s going to a fucking funeral.
He meets Ken’s eyes and quirks an eyebrow at him but the big guy just quirks his mouth into a frown and shrugs. So he doesn’t know what’s up with Ichika, huh? Maybe Renji will just have to ask her, his little girl is just as forward as he is after all.
Once everybody sits down, Yachiru does her typical ‘ooing’ and ‘awing’ over the pancakes. Impressing Yachiru doesn’t take much effort, it’s what makes her so easy to spoil. All that girl wants are things that are either pink or fluffy or both.
What he’s most concerned about is that Ichika still hasn’t said anything, just plopped her sad ass down and ate exactly six bites of her pancakes before she pushes her plate forward.
Renji tries his best to watch her surreptitiously from his peripheral. He normally wouldn’t be so concerned but it’s not Ichika’s usual behaviour. Normally she’s just as loud and playful as Yachiru, and Ichika always says something about Renji’s food. Usually she goes on about how she likes it a lot better than the cook’s at the Kuchiki estate. So the fact that she’s just quietly sitting and not eating...Renji knows he’s missing something.
“You don’t like the pancakes sweetie?” He knows thats a lie, he’s seen Ichika wolf down his pancakes before but he’s fishing here. “M’not hungry,” Ichika mumbles. She looks about two seconds away from crying.
Renji can feel himself mimicking her expression, which probably looks ridiculous on him but he doesn’t care, he can’t help it. His own body subconsciously tries to sympathize with her, understand her. The very idea that she’s upset makes him wanna cry too. He loves her so much, even more than Rukia, who is one of his most precious people.
He hears Ken snort from across the table and that snaps him out of whatever dumb face he’s probably making. It also reminds him not to push Ichika. She doesn’t handle confrontation very well. It’s not that she gets shy and backs off, it’s that she get aggressive and attacks. Another trait she inherited from him.
So he lets Ichika sulk. If she doesn’t wanna tell him what’s wrong right now, fine, he’ll get it out of her later. He listens to Yachiru eat and chatter happily about how she’s excited she got her favourite teacher this year and how she can’t wait to see her friends/cronies (she is her father’s daughter after all).
He listens until everybody’s plates and cups are empty (except Ichika’s) then him and Ken are piling things in the sink and getting the girls their backpack’s.
He hands Ken Yachi’s trusty Hello Kitty backpack while she puts on some sparkly red doc martens (their kids are spoiled okay?). Ichika’s already got her shoes on so he hands her her Paw Patrol backpack, figuring she’d want to carry it herself but she just takes it and let her arm drop with the weight of it, the backpack making a thud as it hits the floor. Renji winces at the sound and watches Ichika make her way out the front door, dragging her backpack behind her.
Ken and Renji help the girls into Ken’s Escalade. Yachiru’s very happy she doesn’t have to be in a car seat anymore but the car’s still too big for her to get in by herself. Renji buckles Ichika into her car seat (because she is too little not to need one, despite how she’s already figured out how to get out of it) and they head off to school.
Renji scrolls through his playlists for a bit before he starts taking requests. He gets various answers and decides on some classic rock.
It’s as he’s singing Living On A Prayer with his girls in the car on their way to school, that he suddenly feels himself tearing up, his throat tight. His family is so beautiful, if unconventional. Ichika’s even singing now, the mood too contagious for her not to get swept in. Ken isn’t singing but he’s grinning manically behind the wheel, happy to listen to his husband and daughters belt out Bon Jovi lyrics.
His girls aren’t very good singers. Yachiru always seems to think screaming at the top of one’s lungs equates to singing and half the time she ends up making her own lyrics, which confuses Ichika, who has trouble remembering the words to songs and usually just gives up halfway to make a lot of “la la la” sounds.
Not that it matters, it never matters. He doesn’t care if his girls were the best or worst singers. All he cares about is that they’re both smiling. He’s smiling, Ken’s smiling—his whole family is happy and thats all he could ever ask for.
When they get to the school’s bus stop, Renji unloads Ichika from the car and Kenpachi helps Yachiru. They set the girls free and Yachiru takes off like a lightening bolt, immediately honing in on her friends (cronies). Ichika lags behind, like she didn’t want to leave the car if she had a choice. Renji waits for her to catch up and searches the area for Rukia. Knowing her, she probably got here early.
He spots her tiny form, her white dress flowing in the breeze. “Hey! Rukia!” He shouts, throwing his arm up to get her attention across the scattering of other parents.
She turns around and grins at him, “Renji! Ichika!” He doesn’t know if she forgot Ken’s name or decided to leave it out on purpose but beside him Kenpachi “tsks.”
He grabs Ichika’s tiny hand to bring her over to her mother. Glad to see her perk up a bit as she sees her mom.
“Hi mummy,” Ichika greet in her cute little voice. Rukia kneels down to hold her arms out asking for a hug (not that she really needs to kneel in order to be of height with Ichika). “Hi sweetie.” She squishes their daughter and lets go to hold her at arms length. “Ready for your first day of school?”
At that single question, whatever has been plaguing Ichika all morning, finally breaks loose.
Seeing his kid cry is never easy but it amazes him that it seems to happen in slow motion, like parents develops this slow-mo camera in their eyes that can catalogue every step of their child breaking down.
First Ichika’s lips pout, then her face gets alarmingly red, then her eyes scrunch and her chin wrinkles and then the tears start flowing.
Rukia, rightfully alarmed, starts wiping Ichika’s tears with a concerned look on her face, asking her what’s wrong.
Ichika’s answer is to start wailing.
“Aaaahhaaaaa!” Her pudgy fists go up to her eyes to rub at her own tears. She sucks in a sharp breath before it comes back out in another wail. “Aaaaaaa!” Rukia is trying to shush her, to tell her that its okay, she doesn’t need to cry. Then Ichika releases one of those godawful high-pitched whines that never fails to twist Renji’s guts and make him want to punch something, preferably whatever is making Ichika cry.
Renji kneels down (he has to, even kneeling he still towers over them both) and puts a hand on one of Ichika’s shoulders to get her attention. “Baby, won’t you tell us what’s wrong. Why are you crying?”
Ichika just keeps whining and wailing but she does move in towards Renji, wrapping her arms around his torso (or trying to) and crying into his chest. His arms come around her on instinct, torso bending to provide a cocoon of warmth and safety for her. He’s just started rubbing circles into her back when she whines on an exhale, “I don’t wanna go to school.” She muffles it into his shirt so Rukia has to strain to hear but when the words click they both look at each other in relief. Hearing your kid cry like that is always heart-attack inducing, knowing that Ichika isn’t hurt and just doesn’t want to go school puts things back in the realm of “stuff they can handle.”
Rukia amps up her confidence, which she exudes naturally, and begins to try and sell Ichika on the wonders of kindergarten. She holds her finger up like a professor educating a wayward student. “Don’t you know Ichika? School is a fun place. You’ll get to do crafts and play games and make lots of friends!”
Ichika shakes her head and burrows further into his chest. “I don’t wanna! I wanna stay with daddy!”
At that tiny exclamation, Renji knows he’s done for. He no longer has any power in this argument. Because of the flexibility of his job versus Rukia’s, he has been Ichika’s designated caretaker for her whole life. And that has never bothered him at all, he loves spending time with her and he has been warned, time and time again, that if he doesn’t stop indulging her every waking whim he is going to give her a dad complex. Which is why he presses his lips together tight to stop himself from saying anything along the lines of “of course you can stay with me,” or “theres always homeschooling right?”
He can feel Rukia and Kenpachi eyeballing him. They are the ones who tell him the most that he needs to be more careful with spoiling Ichika. He can’t help it, he’s so good at it. He has lavished her with love and attention since she came into this world, how is he supposed to suddenly stop?
Kenpachi comes to his rescue. He kneels down too, his hulking form encompassing all of them and says, “Why don’t you try just one day, huh kiddo? And if ya don’t like it afterwards, you don’t have to go anymore.”
He can feel Rukia glaring daggers at Ken for telling Ichika that she doesn’t have to go if she doesn’t like it. It’s not her style of parenting, and she believes in early education and that Ichika should make friends as early as possible. Whereas him and Ken see kindergarten as nothing more than free babysitting and are more liable to let their girls run around like wild children.
It gets Ichika to stop crying though, peaking out from the cocoon of his arms at Kenpachi. “Like brocky?” She means “broccoli” but yeah, he supposes it’s the same principle. Kenpachi nods very solemnly, like he understands the severity of broccoli. Thats another thing about Ken people don’t expect. If people think Renji is surprisingly good with kids, they ain’t ever seen Kenpachi work with them. Ken handles children like a seasoned lion tamer, fearless and experienced.
“Chika!” Yachiru pipes up out of nowhere (as she usually does). She grabs her sister’s hand. “Come on, we’re gonna miss the bus!” And then Ichika doesn’t have much choice at all, they all head towards the bus. Rukia pulls her phone out. “Wait, wait!” She beckons with her hand. “Let me get some pictures.”
Yachiru, being the attention hog that she is, pulls Ichika in close and smiles too wide, posing for a picture Rukia didn’t intend to have her in. Rukia snaps a shot anyway and then politely asks Yachiru if she could pose for one with just her and her daughter. Yachiru agrees but only because she has the attention span of a carrot and bounces off elsewhere. Renji takes the phone from her and waits for the two to huddle together.
Rukia crouches down beside Ichika and their daughter still looks a bit confused, a bit uncertain. Her poor eyes are red-rimmed.
He switches with Rukia wordlessly, handing her the phone so that he can pose for a “first day of school” picture with Ichika too.
He doesn’t give Ichika the chance to stay forlorn though. When he hears Rukia counting down to take the picture he kisses Ichika noisily on the cheek. She squeals with laughter and tries to tuck her little face into her shoulder. He’s sure it’ll make for a great picture, he’ll have to remember to ask Rukia to send it to him.
He hears Ken call for them at the buses entrance. They herd Ichika along and Renji is glad to see Yachiru by Ken’s side. He’s sure Ichika will feel better about going on the bus if she’s able to sit by her sister.
Just as they’re about to get on Ken says “Hey! Where’s my picture?” And instead of crouching by them he scoops them both up into his arms and the girls laugh like it’s a ride, to suddenly be up that high.
Renji whips out his own phone and snaps a quick shot. Ken puts down the girls and Yachiru takes Ichika’s hand in hers again and is surprisingly gentle in leading her on the bus. They both wave as they climb in, Yachiru exuberantly and Ichika hesitantly, sticking her hand in her mouth afterwards.
Renji does his best not to say anything that will draw Ichika’s attention to him. He knows why Ken said what he did. Ichika will mostly likely forget all about him when she’s at school. There will be so many kids her age and all of them have the same worries. By the end of the day they’ll all have been thoroughly distracted and confused as to why they were so upset in the first place. She’ll have lots of fun and make tons of friends, just like Rukia said.
He feels his eyes starting to well up at the thought. “Dammit,” he whispers. He shields his eyes from view and Ken’s big hand comes to wrap around his shoulder. What kind of dad cries at their kid’s first day of kindergarten? Him, apparently.
It isn’t so much the day itself, rather, what the day signifies. It’s Ichika’s first step to not needing him anymore. She’ll get over missing him and continue on her path in school. Make friends he doesn’t always approve of, tell him to get lost, and not touch her stuff. Before he knows it she’ll be asking him for a cell phone and won’t ask him to spend time with her. He’ll be demoted from “dad” to “glorified chauffeur that helps pay for my stuff.”
Kenpachi nudges the top of his head with his nose. “She’s a tough one.” He brings Renji’s head into the crook of his shoulder, hiding his face from view. “But she’s always going to need her dad.”
Both him and Ken don’t like public displays of affection, but Renji indulges himself and stays in the privacy of Ken’s shoulder. Taking comfort and support in his proximity. He takes a few deep breaths and lifts his head in time to see the bus move along slowly. Giving parents the chance to wave to their kids on the bus. He sees Yachiru and Ichika in the same seat. Ichika by the window and Yachiru waving enthusiastically from the aisle, making funny faces at them. Renji makes sure to smile with his teeth so Ichika can see his confidence (even if it isn’t real). She rubs her eyes and gives a small wave before they’re out of sight and the bus is rolling them on to school.
“Even if she doesn’t,” he says to Ken, to Ichika, to himself, “I’ll always be there for her.”
His life isn’t conventional, it hasn’t turned out the way he thought it would. He has a bear of a husband instead of a dainty wife and is a step-dad to one daughter while he co-raises another with his best friend.
And he couldn’t be happier.