Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It began, Ichigo reflects, cradling a warm and shaking body tightly to his, a good many years ago, this whole thing, when a tiny orange haired boy pulled an even tinier boy from a soggy, muddy ditch, despite having little better to offer himself. Actually, he could say for certain that his life would have been very, very different had he not heard a tiny cry, or decided to walk past it.

Would he want to change it? Another life would certainly been more peaceful.

The shaking body hitched, and he rubbed his face in black hair, disregarding its messing as he tried not to let tears spill over himself.

Absolutely not. Not for a second.

He hugged Xiao Jiu tighter.

Ichigo had done a great many things in his life, including dying, but upon his final deathbed he had expected to have put his last impossibility behind him, and move into the cycle of reincarnation with blind eyes and open arms.

He had tucked himself up in the Soul Palace a few days beforehand, gently but firmly declining the very human looking King the offer to keep his memories safe to be returned upon rebirth, said his farewells to the most recent generation of captains – he was going to miss the brats – and found himself a nice cubby with a big comfy bed. Zangetsu was propped up beside him, but after a moment he decided to drag them under the covers with him, just as a final improper show of affection, and drew the curtains.

There was no one to send him off, though they would have gladly. He just wanted these last moments to himself, to miss with an ache all the people he was leaving, all the people he would never see again, all the people he could have followed into the final sleep but chose to wait it out naturally, instead. They would have been through many reincarnation cycles by now, he mused, staring up at the ceiling. The cost of being the strongest of them all was, well, one could consider it another bonus. The ability to age so slowly one might as well not be growing old at all.

It had been an age. Mostly of peace, he had ensured that, but so much time had passed. He was the only one who remembered entire centuries now.

Maybe Orihime's soul was out there right now, enjoying the space travel and robots out of her wildest dreams. Maybe Rukia knew how to open the new juice bottles – whatever space material they would be made of now. Maybe Chad was listening to the newest music, maybe Uryu was disapproving of the newest fashions. Maybe Yuzu and Karin had been born close enough to know each other, sharing anything and everything they way they always had.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. All this dithering, maybe he really was getting old.

He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, warm and safe and peaceful.

He entrusted himself to the universe. Whatever happened next would be out of anyone's hands, even the Soul King.

And the universe had one last card left to play.

There was a little child, with bright orange hair. He was hissed and spat at in the street, cursed for bringing some vague bad luck that they never really explained, young and wild and hungry.

He had been sold for seven bronze coin, they said, and so that was what they called him. Bad luck, and ugly besides. They hid his hair under a filthy scrap of cloth, little Seven was tossed in a small wooden room filled with equally hungry children, and that was his lot.

Seven didn’t like that idea very much.

Ichigo grew up this time on the streets. He grew up scrabbling in the dirt for food, and stealing the occasional robe, and trying to keep the other street children safe and warm. It wasn’t easy. They were all living children, who all needed three meals a day, and clean water, and clothes, and enough sleep not to get mad at each other, Six, please leave your sister alone.

“It's not my fault! She bit me!”

“Six, Eight is a toddler. She needs stimulation that you haven’t been giving her for the past few hours, of course she’s going to be upset.”

“Why can't she help with the begging then?! I'm being really nice to her, tell her to stop!” The kid was almost as close to crying as the toddler in his arms, who Ichigo had given him because he seemed the most caring besides him to take care of the younger one. With a sigh, he pried the little one from him single-handedly, bouncing her on his own tiny lap.

“Let me have a look at you, then,” he sighed. The boy thrust his hand almost in his eye, and he carefully took his wrist and lowered it enough to see. There were little pink marks on it. He sighed again. “She wasn’t able to break skin, so you’ll be fine. You’ve been very brave not to cry, Six, that looks quite sore.”

“Yeah,” Six sniffled, now given permission to cry apparently, pulled his hand away and instead shoved his entire side into Ichigo's, jostling both him and Eight. Startled, she began to wail in earnest, echoing around the small damp storeroom.

Steadying himself, Ichigo wrapped an arm around Six, started bouncing Eight again, and tipped his head back against the wooden wall. In the corner of the room, their slaver caretaker snored deeply, undisturbed by the crying child. He rolled his eyes at him in disgust.

“Seven, Seven, look what I foun'!”

It was a warm sunny day, a few days before some big festival, and all the streets were bustling. Ichigo glanced down to see a small girl jumping on her toes, waving a small flower in a smaller fist.

“Wow, Five, that is pretty,” he told her seriously, bending down slightly. “That's a really lovely flower, where did you find it?”

“Over there!” she said, pointing with her other hand down the street. “Over by the river! It was growing by the banks where the ladies do the washing!”

The river was the other direction, but Ichigo patted her head anyways.

“Then you must have a keen eye, to have spotted it before them,” he nodded solemnly, “its very pretty, Five, well done.”

“Pretty! Pretty! I found a pretty flower!” She waved it again, this time like a flag, jumping and spinning, her little dress twirling. Ichigo gave a soft smile. She spun until she got dizzy, chanting and dancing, and then staggered wobbily back. “Seven! Come on, come this way!”

“Ah, Five, I can't, I've got to stay here until nightfall,” he apologised, not budging from his spot, even when she began to pull at his leg. “I need to make enough money for breakfast.”

“No~! Seven, ~please? You’ve got to! I'll show ya where the flowers are!” she insisted, with all the force of a four year old who knew when Ichigo would cave.

“No, I can't.”

“I's sunny! Even if we get pushed in ih’ll be warm!”

“Ah, that still wouldn’t be a good idea. I'm not allowed to take my head scarf off, remember?” he ran a hand over his head, feeling the fabric. He would have taken it off himself, he hardly cared for the typical hate and insults he got for it, but in this era – whenever it was, he’d never been the best at Chinese history anyway – people took such superstition much more seriously. Instead of disgusted looks from adults and the occasional group of teens wanting to take it a bit further, Ichigo now faced real, serious consequences.

People just weren’t willing to hire him, let him in their shops, be seen associating with him in fear of some dumb bad luck omen that'd somehow rub off on them. It had been the main factor for him remaining in the situation he was, that and the children. Until he could find some hair dye or something, as demeaning as that felt, he wasn’t going anywhere. At least it was straight, for a change.

Five puffed her cheeks out.

“But it's a festival in a few days! Everyone else will be getting loads a' money! Come on come on, Seven! Pleeease?”

And like that, he crumbled with a sigh.

“Oh go on then,” he grumbled, over her cheers. “Just this once, Five! I've got lots of things I have to do!”

“Uhuh!” she chirped, already tugging his hand away from his station and down the street – the correct direction, thankfully. He resisted another fond sigh. When he said he’d missed Karin and Yuzu, he hadn’t meant like this!

Five led him through narrow alleys and bustling streets, dragging him without care for his larger size between strangers and carts. More than once he had to suddenly sweep her off her feet to avoid a particularly fast horse or immovable pedestrian, and she shrieked in delight each time he did it. She was far too small to be wandering the streets alone, where was Two?

Soon, the smell of the river began to become more apparent, and Five picked up speed, pulling Ichigo along at an awkward hunch.

They emerged on the river banks, the sun streaming onto the slow waters surface and the loud of chatter loud in the air. Further upstream was the washerwomen spots, and on a warm day like today they were full, a busy crowd gossiping and sharing stories under the sun. He could smell the soaps from where they were, harsh and citrusy.

Five had paused for a moment, frowning around. Ichigo caught his breath and straightened his back with a groan, only to give a yelp as she began to pull him along again. She still hadn’t let go of her flower.

This time they plunged back into the streets, weaving through the slums and trees, and slowly the noise began to fade, replaced with the quiet whisper of trees overhead. The sudden shade and the temperature drop made him shiver.

“Five... how far did you go?” he asked, beginning to grow concerned. She turned and beamed up at him.

“Not much further! We were really close!”

“You know you’re supposed to stay close to Two,” he scolded, catching her as she nearly tripped on a root. “Five, where is she? Did you run away from her?”

“N–no! She said I could play if I stayed close!” she pleaded, turning big, watery eyes up at him. Ichigo was unmoved. He looked back, seeing the entrance to the forest as a few beams of pale light fading further and further into the distance.

“Five, this is so far in. It's very dangerous to go away from Two, you know that!”

“But! No I didn’!” she began to pick up the pace again, releasing Ichigo's hand this time. He tried to grab her, but she slipped out of reach. She'd make a great pickpocket when she grew older, he thought glumly as he took chase. “It's right close by! Look!”

She vanished behind a tree. Ichigo groaned, clomping behind.

She'd already gone out of sight by the time he rounded it, and he came to a halt, stretching his hearing, trying to listen for the sound of little feet, quiet giggling.

A small cry pierced the silence. His head snapped around.

He heard it again. A little sniffle, quiet and muffled. It could have been an animal.

“Five?” he called. No response. Ichigo spared a moment to wish he was back on his warm and sunny street corner. “Five!”

The cry again. It was a little louder this time. Ichigo started to run, moving through the wet mud and fallen leaves in his bare feet, slipping down a steep slope and nearly falling into a patch of nettles.

It sounded louder. There was a dry stream at the bottom, filled now with stinky dirt and rotting vegetation. There was no sign of Five. He moved along it, head twisting and turning.

He rounded another tree and froze.

There, abandoned in a thin and ragged blanket, soaked in mud and shivering pitifully, lay a tiny runt of a child, blotchy and sobbing.

It gave another quiet sob and Ichigo shook himself out of his daze, running forward and levering the kid off the ground, grimacing at the cold filth being pressed up his arms. The kid fell silent, staring up at him with big grey green eyes.

It was more of a toddler, he realised, an extremely tiny one. They had enough hair on their head to be at least a year old, and they were holding their neck up without any problems. Still young enough to be barely able to walk, especially if there was some weakness stunting their growth. Still, their eyes were clear and bright, blinking slowly as the child stared into Ichigo's soul. The fist curled in his shirt certainly wasn’t lacking any strength.

Instinctively, he bounced the kid gently, getting a hand underneath them and grimacing at the smell that wafted up.

“You're not in a good state, are you, kid?” he murmured. The kid tried to stick a mud covered fist in his mouth. He leaned back. “No thank you.”

The kid then tried to stick its fist in their own mouth, and he pulled it away.

“Who left you here?” he asked. No reaction. The kid hadn’t looked away. Or really blinked. “You know, if you keep staring into my soul like that, eventually you’ll find Zangetsu,” he told them. “And I don’t think you’ll much like him.”

With a deep breath – nearly gagging on the soiled cloth smell – he hoisted the kid on his hip and began the arduous task of climbing back up the slope. He was barely any bigger, he shouldn’t have to be doing all this! He was barely six himself!

But he couldn’t just leave the kid. If he put them down and turned away now he’d never be able to live with himself.

“Seven! Seven, where are you?!”

Oh thank goodness.

“I'm here, Five!” he yelled back. “I'll be there in a second. Stay there!”

“Seven!” She looked close to crying when he reached the top of the hill, a fistful of lilac flowers in each hand, and he felt rotten for spending so long distracted with the new kid. Thankfully, her brewing tears were forgotten when she saw what he’d brought with him. “Who's that?”

“This is your new sibling,” he told her, because he wasn’t letting go without a fight. “I think he'll be Nine, Jiu, unless the slavers have managed to pick up another kid since we’ve been gone.”

“Oh,” she breathed, eyes wide, leaning in but pulling back with a wrinkled nose, “So Eight won't be the youngest anymore?”

“No, this guy will be the youngest.” He agreed. “What have you got there?”

Five jumped, as if she'd forgotten what she'd dragged them all the way out here for. She held up a bunch.

“I foun' them all! They were right on the riverbank, I told ya!”

“That's lovely, Five, you’re really good at finding things,” Ichigo sighed, accepting a stalk shoved into his already full hands, “But you have to remember that it's very dangerous to wander off without permission, what would have we done if you'd tripped and hurt yourself, hm?”

“I wouldn’!” she insisted, following him back in the direction of the entrance, “I'm a big girl! I’m four! I'm really good at no' fallin' over!”

“You are, you are.”

“I'm gonna take these to Two! She'll like them, I know she will! An' I’ll give them to everyone else, an' then we can sell the left over flowers, and she can buy me a bun from the bakers like she said she'd do!”

“That's very kind of you, kid, you don’t have to do that for us.”

“Yeah, but! Ya said we should be nice to each other, so thas' what I'm gonna do! I'm gonna give everyone a flower!”

“Even little Nine?”

“Yeah!” she cheered, “Even if he’s really stinky!”

They giggled a bit as they emerged back into the sunlight, Five taking charge again and sprinting off down the dirt path.

“Wait up!” he called, trying to chase after without jolting the kid too much.

“Stinky, stinky, stinky Nine!”

“Kid!”

“Don't worry,” she nodded, suddenly solemn as he caught up, gasping and arms straining with the weight of carrying someone almost half his weight, “Even if he’s really smelly, I bet Two can make him smell nice! Two can make everything smell nice!”

“Yeah, we'll get him cleaned up right away.” Ichigo agreed.

It was that night that they tried to introduce the toddler to the slavers, Ichigo feeling slightly ill with nerves and guilt the entire time.

He'd sworn Five and Two to secrecy upon their return to the washing banks, much to Two's worry, and the oldest member of their gang had taken a look at the kid and wrinkled her nose.

“He's all gross, he’s probably got an infection or something by now,” she'd tried, “and he’s even smaller than Eight. We don’t have the time or energy to take in another baby, they'll never let us.”

“I'll take them in,” Ichigo promised desperately, “Even if they don’t want us to, I’ll say they'll help me look more pitiful when begging, or something. To counter my hair.”

“You can't just take in another brat just because you’re terrible at begging! It's your fault you’ve got evil hair anyway! Any extra money you might make will just end up being spent on him anyway!”

“No it isn’t,” he sighed, still holding the baby out, “but we can't just leave him to die!”

“Why not?!” Two was nearly shouting now, getting dark and curious glances from the washers surrounding them. Her ten year old frame loomed over them both. “Everyone else left us to die, didi, why should we care?!”

Oh.

Well what was he supposed to say to that? Each one of the group had been sold or snatched up off the streets to be raised into slavery, they all knew that was coming. Ichigo had managed to wrangle the kids into some semblance of a cohesive family, but when half of them are older than you and very disinclined to listen it was hard. They didn’t know how much longer Two would remain with them, One and Three had already been sold, and it seemed the stress of trying to keep the younger children all clean and warm had gotten to her, goodness knows those slavers wouldn’t.

“We care about each other!” he tried, not knowing what else to say. “We all take care of each other, don’t we! Even if the slavers are mean and nasty doesn’t mean we have to be!”

She bit her lip, looking far too stressed for a pre-teen, and that was when Five tugged on her sleeve, eyes wide and watery.

“Please, Two,” she whispered, lip trembling, holding up her bunch of little purple flowers in offering in the warm sunlight, “please can we have Nine? I'll be a really good big sister, I promise.”

She looked between the pair of pleading faces, and then the little child held tightly in Ichigo's shaking arms, face screwed up but not yet beginning to cry, and wilted with a shaky sigh.

“Fine. Fine,” she muttered, taking a flower and tucking it into her hair. Five lit up, “Just don’t – make sure you keep him safe, Seven, I'm counting on you for that. I won't help you tell the slavers, though.”

“Thank you,” Ichigo hugged the smelly kid to his chest in relief. He was keeping them whether anyone else liked it or not, but jealous and angry children could do horrible things to each other if left alone. He needed to do this right.

“Give him here,” she sighed, reaching out, “I'll clean him up. Wouldn’t want him to give a bad impression, hm?”

After cleaning up the child – and it being revealed that he was, indeed, a boy – Ichigo waved Two and Five off and headed back to his spot. Making sure to adjust his scarf so it covered his hair, he settled in, pressing his back against the wall and cradling his brat's head in his arms. With a tiny yawn in a tinier mouth, Jiu tucked his hands under his chin and drifted off, apparently comfortable now he was warm and dry. Ichigo smiled helplessly. It didn’t quite remind him of Yuzu and Karin, the age difference was a little smaller and it had been far too long anyway, but it definitely warmed something in him to see the little life dozing off in his arms.

It gave him time to think, absently scoping out for potential wet towels that could fold to his begging, and there was precious little to think about other than his own situation.

Pretty much the last thing he'd expected was to be reborn, with all the promises of non interference he’d been fully ready to never wake up again. At the start he’d been furious, thinking they’d been broken, and the first chance he’d got he’d launched himself out of his child body, whipped out Zangetsu and made a senkaimon straight to Seireitei.

And the world he’d stepped into was completely different.

For one, Soul Society had been very strongly Japanese themed, despite collecting all the souls from all around the world, and later, other worlds. It was simply the jureichi remaining mostly in Japan that influenced the souls from there retaining the most memories of their lives, and other souls eventually picking up the style. It had eventually evolved into more technological areas but due to its nature, it would always lag centuries behind the human world.

This Soul Society... was not like that. It was very distinctly Chinese and very much of ancient design. Sure, the people were as varied and colourful as he remembered, but there was no Seireitei.

Oh sure, the new name basically translated into the same thing, but the structure was completely different. It was designed like an enormous palace town, with golden bridges and lilypads in the streams. Swaying paper lanterns and circular windows.

It was there that he’d first heard of demons, as kindly explained to him by a ten tailed fox who been passing by.

“You must be newly ascended,” she'd nodded knowingly, and then continued on before Ichigo had been given a chance to explain. “This is where ascended souls come to rest, in the centre of the Court of Pure Souls. Outside these walls are the Courts of Wandering Souls, where you will have been reincarnated before. Demons and humans have the same souls, when it comes down to it, so we all live together in the afterlife peacefully, so don’t think you can pick any fights with us!”

“But... what about the King?” he'd stammered out, bewildered beyond belief and with a sinking feeling in his stomach. She'd laughed daintily, her tails swaying hypnotically in time with the gentle swish of silks and ribbons.

“Oh, you must be a martial one, mustn't you? The jade emperor lives up in the heavenly palace, along with all the trueborn deities. On occasion, one of us impresses them enough to be invited up there, to live with them.”

So the same system as he was used to, then...

“What about... hollows?”

That was more of a risk, seeing as everything else was named differently, but thankfully she rolled her glittering eyes.

“You warriors... You can hunt them if you want, but you’ll have to join the martial patrols outside the city. They can't get us in here, the barrier prevents them and any possible invaders. You must have gained spiritual energy quite quickly, if you saw them before you ascended.”

Didn’t that sound familiar? He was almost tempted to ask if there were some disgraced nobles somewhere about with trade secrets that would help people break in.

“No thank you, I think I'll... wait.” Until I'm dead again. She shrugged.

“Then you’ve more sense than most your kind. Now, if you'll excuse me. If you head towards the middle to the First Court, they should have received word of your arrival, so speak to the secretary and she'll be able to set you up properly.” And with that, she was off, her tails bouncing and swaying behind her. Ichigo blinked after her for a moment before sighing and pulling out Zangetsu for a senkaimon home – he was sure they had some local equivalent for that too, but he didn’t have the space in his head to ask.

Thankfully his new parents hadn’t noticed their youngest son being functionally dead for a few hours. He’d chosen a good hiding place.

As night fell over the town and people started to peter away and back to their homes, Ichigo and Jiu counted their earnings.

“Fourteen bronze and three silver, Jiu. That’s quite a bit!” he told him cheerfully. “Thank goodness you’re weaned, I don’t think we could afford fresh milk on top of everything else. And that’s after I spent an hour or so with Five!”

Nine just stared at him with those big eyes of his, gumming silently on his own fingers. Ichigo hummed.

“You're certainly old enough to have said your first words, I wonder what they were? You’re being an absolute angel, though,” he praised, scooping him up onto his hip in a very practiced motion. “Just stay nice and calm a little longer, hm?”

They headed back under the darknening sky, Ichigo dipping between silent houses and shops, avoiding the shadowy alleys and following the moon back home.

The main draw that the slavers offered to return was the promise of shelter and a lock on the door, along with the slave brand they all carried on their skin to ensure they couldn’t try and make it on their own. It was just four small wooden walls in the basement of something larger – Ichigo was fairly certain they did more illegal activities there, but as long as they didn’t rope the kids into it – and locked on the outside, but it kept the water and cold mostly out and was usually filled with the rest of the group and their ratty blankets. Small broken toys were tucked into a corner for the coldest snowy days, where even the useless men wouldn’t let them out and risk their investments dying from cold or bringing something back that would wipe out their entire little stock.

Ichigo hated them with a burning passion, but the soul deep knowledge that they would toss his corpse out if he raised a fist to them and thus leave the kids without someone sensible and able to wrap wounds, even if they were a kid themselves, stayed his hand.

He did not regret his doctor's knowledge, even if most of it was rendered useless without the right tools and technologies.

He had wrangled this infighting, dog mannered group into some semblance of a healthy family with his own two hands and bucketfuls of patience, he was not giving up on them.

The building came into view, exactly the same as the ones on both sides, equally dirty and run down. Ichigo ducked inside, down the basement stairs and into the room. His last chance to keep the baby from a life of slavery came and went, for his only other option was death, and Ichigo refused.

As expected, there was a slaver waiting for them at the foot, sneering and impatient, who scowled in disgust at the sight of him and outright spat at his feet when he spotted what he had in his arms. Behind him were Two and Five, the younger with a hand already clamped over her mouth by the older as they curled in a corner.

“What do you think you’re doing with that, brat?” he drawled, scratching at an armpit. Ichigo fought not to wrinkle his nose.

“I found him in the woods, sir. He’s been very quiet all day, and he’s helped me make lots of money today, sir. I earned fourteen bronze and three silver.”

“Oh, and now ya think that – what – we should keep the runty thing? Ha!” The disgusting man gave a throaty bark of laughter. Ichigo said nothing. “What a pathetic sack of uselessness you are, crumbling at the sight of anything even smaller than you are. We're not keeping anything, toss it outside with the dogs, it’ll feed them more than it's ever going to help you.”

Ichigo said nothing. He didn’t move. The man began to scowl harder.

“Oi, ya heard me the first time, freak! Toss it outside and forget about it.”

“Sir, you wouldn’t have to pay anything for him, like you did with us! He's fully weaned too, he can eat with the rest of us!”

“Right, if you won't, I will.” The man started to climb the stairs, each heavy stomp getting closer and closer. He heard a squeal from down the stairs as he pushed himself backwards into the wall, clutching the kid tighter. He made an unhappy sound, but didn’t wriggle, possibly picking up on the danger. “If I have ta' do this myself I'll be very upset, do you hear me, ya freaky little piece of garbage?”

“He's not going to be any bother! I'll take care of him myself, sir, you''l get lots of money and you won't even know he’s there!”

Something, something, please, there had to be something. He could smell the air of stale sweat and cheap alcohol now, knew the man wouldn’t hesitate to raise a hand to either of them, both of them, if he couldn’t convince him now it’d be curtains for them both.

“I'll cut my hair!” he burst desperately. “I'll cut it all off and dye the rest brown with mud! I won't be bad luck anymore!”

The man stopped. His breath was heavy and rank. The air was thick with tension. Ichigo itched to clutch Jiu tighter. He didn’t dare move.

A thick and filthy hand reached under his chin and pulled his head up. Ichigo struggled not to recoil, trying to breathe through his nose. The slaver looked amused.

“You're really desperate, aren’t you? To save that thing.”

I'll do most anything. Ichigo thought. He did not say it.

“Alright then, ya can keep it.” With an almost careless shove that staggered Ichigo into the wall, the slaver turned and began to descend the stairs, leaving him breathless with relief. “If we see so much as a glimpse of orange in the next few months you and number nine are out on your backsides, ya got that? And if we hear a peep from the kid –” he made a slicing motion across his throat, grinning widely. Ichigo shivered in utter hatred. The grin widened. “Have fun with that!”

The door slammed. Ichigo unpeeled himself from the wall, relaxing his grip. Immediately, Jiu squirmed and kicked, nearly tipping himself out of his arms.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Qi!” A small boulder slammed into his side, nearly knocking them both down. “Ya did it! Ya did it! I was so worried –”

“Shhh! Five, you’ve got ta' be quiet!” Two appeared over her shoulder, picking her up with ease Ichigo was jealous of. “We've got ta' be really quiet, remember? Seven, ya nearly scared me to death! What were you thinking, cutting your hair? You might as well have sworn eternal enslavement! We’ve got precious little as it is, don’t go throwing it away!”

“I know, I know,” Ichigo followed them down the stairs again, gladly sinking back against the wall. Two tossed them the least ratty of the blankets, and he hummed gratefully. “It's just hair, it’ll grow back.”

“You're far too reckless.” she sighed. “It'll get you killed, some day.”

He gave a quiet bark of laughter. She scoffed at him, and turned to curl up with Five.

“Where's Four and the others?”

“They're still out. They’re closer to the town centre this time, remember? They’ll be a while yet.”

“Mm.”

They fell silent. Ichigo sunk lower, Jiu nestled securely on his lap. There was a thumb in his mouth, and his big silvery green eyes stared back at him, calm now. Ichigo gently ran a thumb along his hairline, feeling it's softness. He swallowed down a surge of guilt.

“We did it, Xiao Jiu.” he murmured, pressing his lips to his forehead. He heard a tiny grunt. “We did it. You’ll live. You’re – you’re safer now.”

He’d condemned this kid to a life of slavery and hunger.

But in this strange and horrible new world, the only other option was death.

“Forgive me, Xiao Jiu,” he whispered. “Forgive your Qi-ge."

Chapter Text

The spirits in this world were of a much wider variety than Ichigo was used to in the past. Not only were there hollows and sinners and shinigami and pluses and blanks and the occasional modified soul of some description (though he’d not yet seen any of the last two, there was no doubt they existed in this world in some form), but also ghosts and ghouls and poltergeists and zombies and guardian spirits; basically every single type of lingering shape there was could be found here. It was like someone had taken all the stories from his old world and thrown them together into some brimming cauldron and given naming duties of the resulting oft lethal amalgamations to a particularly uninterested office worker. Certainly, the street performers and outlandish rumours that would pass through the street rats wouldn’t give the beasts such bland and lengthy titles.

It wasn’t just ghosts, either, was the problem. Just about every creature from Chinese folklore and myth was there. There were dragons and foxes and demons and all-healing flowers and talking trees and water serpents and nightmare birds and probably just about anything else he could think of.

There were a truly worrying amount of aphrodisiacs, though. There was a whole section of the main market dedicated to them and their antidotes. It was the area closest to the red light district, admittedly, but it was also quite big.

Thankfully, none of the children had encountered anything. They’d being growing older now, and Ichigo had caught them almost getting involved in some 'gross stuff' once or twice. Frankly, if Two wanted to kiss someone that was her prerogative, but if they wanted to do anything more Ichigo was going to have to give a fantasy-world-adjusted Talk, and he Did Not Want to do that, not least because he was now half her age. He should probably do something about it before she got sold, though.

And now he felt awful all over again.

He hated it. Slavery was hateful and disgusting and inhumane and he loathed it. Why couldn’t he have been reborn in a world that had rightly forbidden the entire practice? Or even to parents that wouldn’t sell him off for a few silver coins over his hair? It's not like he wouldn’t have become an advocate against it anyway!

Ugh. Fantasising about jumping into soul reaper form and gutting every adult involved in their little corner of the slave trade was deeply satisfying, but they simply couldn’t afford to stay around adults that didn’t have a faint interest in keeping them alive and would keep a room aside for them. There were a good many street kids who weren’t as lucky. Zangetsu couldn’t interact with mortal forms in this world anyway. Maybe because he was an outside soul, but something just didn’t resonate.

He was exhausted trying to hold everything together without getting on everyone’s bad sides. He could lead an army to victory and this situation was, quite frankly, much harder. He was a kid himself now! He had the brain and body and the limits of one! Encouraging sharing and forgiveness amongst a group of street kids that had to fight for every penny and knew not to expect help from outsiders was exhausting.

Despite his age – right in the middle of the group, though slowly beginning to climb – he’d somehow landed himself the role of group dad, in parallel to Two being the group mum, and the brats were perfectly willing to drag him out of a very well earned nap in the middle of the night to complain about nightmares and worries and what not. He just wanted to sleep, was that too much to ask? He was desperate. But... he didn’t have the heart to turn them away.

So they kept coming, even Two herself, and apparently his advice (and dirty fighting lessons) was good enough because then other street kids began to approach him for something other than his hard earned coins, and they must have told their friends too, and suddenly he had a whole following of dirty, barefooted children following him and little Jiu around, taking his words as gospel and picking fights with anyone who disagreed.

He could hardly go an hour without some kid popping out the woodwork to ask about this or that, or to fix some dispute over stolen food, or whatever other trouble a hungry group of homeless kids could get up to. Throughout it all, Jiu was perfectly happy to stay snuggled up to him, watching everything with those attentive eyes of his, drinking in everything and anything that happened. Ichigo had his work cut out for him keeping them both fed and watered, and Xiao Jiu clean and warm. He couldn’t wait until he was potty trained.

He hadn’t said anything yet, not even baby babble, but with those eyes Ichigo wasn’t worried. The kid would say something when he was good and ready, and until then he’d appreciate the silence in between the crying.

As if on cue, a stench began to fill the cool air. Ichigo and Xiao Jiu wrinkled their noses as one, and Jiu began to wriggle and squirm, grunting and looking mightily displeased for someone only experiencing his second autumn. Ichigo held him away slightly and sighed, digging his nose into the crook of his shoulder.

“Come on then, Xiao Jiu, let's get you cleaned up.”

Scooping the coins they’d collected so far together, he pulled himself to his feet and set off, making sure to keep his now sheared and muddied hair out of sight under his scarf, as usual.

It was a chilly day. Autumn was beginning to bleed into winter, and the wind was harsh and cold, whistling through trees and under fabrics, tugging at his scarf and making Xiao Jiu go red faced with the cold.

There was a hollow.

It was large and red skinned, with a flat round mask and a neck thicker than its body. Ichigo shrunk back as it appeared again over the roofs a street over, the vendors and pedestrians bustling away underneath as if nothing was wrong.

A shivering growl rang out over the town. No one reacted but him, trying to clamp down on his meagre reiatsu and trying to hide unnoticed in the shadows. Xiao Jiu squirmed and made a small whimper that stung his heart.

“It's okay, it's okay,” he whispered, despite knowing that he couldn’t see what was going on, “We'll be really quiet and then it’ll go away.”

An enormous six fingered hand curled over the edge of the roof. Down the street, the hollow tipped over the edge with it, and then bellowed another hunting cry to the sky. Xiao Jiu gave a small sob as Ichigo clutched him tighter.

“No, no, Xiao Jiu, don’t cry. It’ll be over really quickly, don’t worry. I'm sorry for scaring you, everything will be fine.”

He continued soothing and rocking him, murmuring meaningless nothings, as the hollow began to sniff the air, loud and throaty. He wrinkled his nose. It must be quite a new one. He would almost have preferred it become some other evil spirit, they at least normally stuck to one small area.

Come on, come on! Where are those martial deity patrols I've heard so much about?

Feeling like they were being stalked by an escaped tiger, Ichigo began to slowly ease his way out of hiding, all senses primed and ready. Younger hollows rarely hunted in packs, but that required two assumptions that Ichigo wasn’t remotely willing to stake their safety on. The second the hollow had its back turned he was moving, sliding through the crowd at a pace slow enough to not grab the public's attention. A fleeing street child meant they were being chased, which more often than not meant they’d stolen something. They wouldn’t survive the attention, the ruckus would surely get the attention of the predator above them. If it looked closely it was all over.

People in this world were far too unwilling to change, tossing their assumptions and snap judgements everywhere. His kids didn’t deserve to grow up in that, but what could any of them do?

Xiao Jiu was beginning to cry in earnest now, wet tears rolling down a scrunched up face. His sobs were quiet and each one broke Ichigo's heart.

“Don't cry, Xiao Jiu, I know it's scary, you must be very confused right now, don’t worry, Qi-ge will get us to safety, Ichi-nii will keep you safe–”

Another roar, louder this time, and Ichigo stumbled, righting himself and picking up speed.

Don’t look, don’t look, that’s how they know you can see them, don’t –

Xiao Jiu gave a wail, high and loud, and Ichigo dived into an alleyway, a warm woosh of air missing them by inches.

The hollow straightened up with a furious screech, but couldn’t seem to find them again, pawing and sniffing at the ground. A pair of shoppers passed straight through it, chatting happily. The sun shone through its head unhindered, casting the alley in a cool light. It must have been relying strongly on sight.

Ichigo pressed his charge to his chest and gave a long, silent breath... He tilted Nine towards him, meeting his eyes searchingly.

The hollow gave another huff–

– and Xiao Jiu turned his head, blindly seeking out the source. Ichigo stared.

“Oh, Soul King, no. Please no.”

Sinking down against the wall, the six year old pressed his head into the two year old's chest. Jiu grabbed at the scarf as he tried to hold back tears.

“This is why I never picked up kids,” he whispered. “This is why I never tried to get physically close to them. You shouldn’t be seeing hollows. You don’t need this on top of everything else. It'll get you killed.”

Xiao Jiu crooned. Ichigo lifted his head.

“ But I can't not, I can't leave you. I'm not going to just - abandon you. I’m not going to be like whoever left you there in that ditch. You hear me, Xiao Jiu? I'm sticking with you, whether you like it or not.”

Xiao Jiu tried to shove his fist in his own mouth. He gently pulled it away.

“You're getting too old for that now, brat. I know you’re still teething but you’ve got far too many germs on your hands for me to be happy with, don’t think I didn’t see you trying to eat dung the other day,” he chided, tapping his nose. Jiu wrinkled it and squirmed, all earlier tears forgotten. Ichigo huffed, eyes gentling. “That's more like it. Oh, don’t look at me like that. I was a doctor. I know stuff like this. Admittedly I don’t remember much... come on, it was three thousand years ago! In another world!”

He sighed again. “I should probably stop saying stuff like this before you start remembering, little soul seer.”

They waited in that alley for a few more hours, Ichigo quietly chatting and playing with Nine to try and distract them both from the hunger in their stomachs, but finally, finally, the hollow got bored and wandered off. The sun had vanished behind the houses and the already low temperature was dropping rapidly.

Ichigo tucked Jiu's worn blanket tighter around him and stood up slowly, grunting at his sore joints and the feeling of blood restarting to circulate. He couldn’t feel it anywhere near. Nor any of the pseudo shinigami, which was a disappointment. He’d be happy to lay into them about their lack of urgency but they hadn’t even bothered to show up at all.

“Wish I could just go shinigami and solve the problems myself,” he told the brat dozing off in his arms. They were a lot stronger now after hauling him around 24/7 for the past few months, which was nice. “But I can't exactly leave my body without dropping every mortal in a two block radius. Even then there’s the matter of my lifeless corpse for everyone to be dealing with. I don’t think you’d like that much, kid.” He sighed as he heard a sleepy mumble. “You're a good kid. Now let's get going before the slavers lock the door and we have to sleep outside. We'll see if anyone has some spare crusts to eat.”

“Nine! Nine! Nine! Nine!”

“Shhhh!” Two chastised, not looking any less gleeful herself as Ichigo slowly released his grip on Jiu, who was wobbling on his feet, face screwed up in determination. “You don’t want them ta' get mad!”

“They won't care,” said Four, rolling his eyes from where he sat cross legged a few metres away, avidly paying attention all the same. Nine swayed and collapsed into Seven's waiting arms. He lifted him back off his folded legs. “They're all getting blackout drunk, ah reckon. Bastards.”

The whole group was gathered in the basement room. Outside, thick fluffy flakes drifted down, blanketing the whole town in a muffling layer of white. Ichigo was much less inclined to feel poetic about it when he personally knew the names of nearly twenty other kids who would be stuck outside in that, under scrap wood lean-to's and thin, threadbare blankets. He scowled up at the tiny barred window high above them, the icicles forming between the metal, carrying in stray snowflakes. Underneath was the bucket they all had to use for bodily excretions, frozen solid. He got a kick to his ankle for ignoring Jiu trying to stand up again.

Ten and Eleven were curled up together in the far corner, not saying anything and watching the rest of them silently. They’d only been purchased and branded a few days ago, from parents with younger children desperate to afford the food to keep their family alive. Apart from making sure to divide the food to accommodate the new arrivals Ichigo had left them alone. They’d unfurl when they were ready.

“Yeah, but we can't chance it on something like that,” Two rolled her eyes right back, “how often do we get the chance to see someone taking their first steps? We can't let them interrupt!”

“Shhh!” Six hissed, throwing a half-hearted punch at his senior, who just leaned out the way and kicked him in the hip, tossing him to the floor. He jumped back up, unharmed. “Just because you’re a killjoy–”

“I'm jus' not a girl, I couldn’t care less about some brat–”

“Language.” Ichigo chided automatically, attention fully devoted to Nine clinging too tightly to his fingers, sharp little nails digging in. “Apologise to your sister.”

“What? I’m not gonna say sorry to her!”

“Say sorry to Two!” Five piped up, looking far too gleeful. “You gotta!”

“Yeah well I'm no' gonna!”

“Seven said so! So you gotta!”

“Nuh uh! I’m older! So he’s gotta listen to what I say!”

“Seven's smarter!” Six joined in. “So tha' makes him the older one!”

“Wha – tha’s not how it works!”

“Yeah, Four, you’re jus' dumb.” Two grinned again. Four sputtered, the epitome of offended nine year old.

Jiu gave a little shuffle of his tiny feet, following the arm Ichigo had slowly pulled away. All attention immediately snapped to him.

“Come on, kid, you can do it.”

He got a frustrated grunt in return, little hands digging in further as Nine swayed on his feet. Ichigo winced, steadying his back with a hand.

“Didn't – wasn’ Eight walking way earlier?” Six asked eventually. The toddler looked up at the sound of her name, resting her head on Two's shoulder. Ichigo nodded.

“She was a lot healthier when we got her, Seven found Nine abandoned and already pretty thin.” Two agreed.

“Stupid gross adults,” Four groused. “They never do anything right.”

Vocal agreements all around, and Ichigo felt another sting of exhausted disappointment. This world was one much crueller than the one he’d left, and all these children were the living consequences of that. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t overcome that.

Still, he’d made their lives better. Certainly, as Jiu lifted a little leg and managed another step with Ichigo's support, he couldn’t bring himself to be angry at them.

Everyone but Four and the pair in the corner threw encouragements at Jiu, but he had the undivided attention of the entire room. Five tried to beckon him, but Jiu solely had eyes for his feet.

“He's so nearly there,” Ichigo told them, “Yesterday I caught him standing on his own against the wall.”

“Aw...”

“Xiao Eight can stan' on her own already!”

“Yeah, but we're not talkin' about Eight, are we? Shut ya mouth, Six.”

“Oh!” Five gasped as Ichigo began to lift his arms away again. This time, Xiao Jiu managed to remain standing alone, arms out to the side and feet planted squarely. He tilted, and Ichigo instinctively went to catch him, but he steadied, and stared across the room to Five, who was practically vibrating in her spot, arms out and calling.

“Moo!” he pronounced quite suddenly, and dismissed her to turn to stare at Ichigo. Unfortunately, that was a bit too ambitious for him, and he toppled right back into Ichigo's arms. They burst out laughing.

“He's got you pegged! Not even a second glance!” Four wheezed. Even Eight was giggling. Five pouted, confused and a little hurt, and Two paused her laughter to smooth her hair down.

“We're not laughing at you,” she promised. “Xiao Jiu is just being very funny.”

“Yeah we are – ow!”

“It's not you we're laughing at,” she repeated serenely. Meanwhile, Ichigo had been helping maneuver Jiu to face him.

“Do you want to try again?” he asked softly. Jiu responded by kicking his foot out of the way. He laughed, “of course, of course, we're very determined.” Shuffling back carefully, he uncrossed his legs to better support himself and his awkward angle holding Nine away from his body.

Carefully, oh so carefully, he released his grip on him, sliding his hands out from under his arms. Jiu swayed again, and he froze, but he straightened with a little jerk and a big pout on his mouth.

No one breathed. The room was totally silent. Ichigo inched further away.

“Xiao Jiu, Xiao Jiu,” he called, patting the floor, getting his attention. His face scrunched into a scowl, little arms reaching out for him. “Come on, you can do it.”

Five and Six were almost squirming in excitement. Two's eyes were wide and open. Four was leaning forwards, tense.

“Xiao Jiu,” Ichigo coaxed. Jiu lifted his leg a bit, just enough to slide forwards a single step. Everyone face lit up. “That's it! Come on, Xiao Jiu!”

A tiny shuffle turned into something bigger, turned into a stagger only barely controlled, and Jiu tottered across the tiny room on shaking legs, collapsing in Ichigo's arms and was swept up into his chest.

“Xiao Jiu! Xiao Jiu!”

“Nine! Nine! Nine! Nine!”

They were surrounded on all sides by whooping and cheering children, Four and Six and Five and Eight and Two, jumping and high-fiving as Ichigo spun a giggling Nine around in the air, lifting him above his head as he squealed in delight and kicked.

Ichigo laughed freely and openly, even as he was scooped up and put on Two's hip himself, squishing Jiu between them. He laughed and cheered until he cried with it, everyone piling together by Ten and Eleven and pulling up all the blankets around them, the younger ones dozing off with the cold and excitement, the older ones on the outside tucking them in. Ichigo chattered with Five as Eight and Nine's heads began to droop, wedged in firmly on either side by bigger bodies. Though it was hardly any warmer in the pile, with snow still coming in through the bars of their prison, though only the younger three had had much to eat since yesterday, they knew contentment. And when Ichigo began to drift off himself, resting his head on Xiao Jiu's fluffy one, he knew he’d wake up safe. His efforts were paying off. Xiao Jiu had taken his first steps.

There was precious little to celebrate, so they would treasure each one.

Winter came and passed, and spring began to bloom in this new world. All of the children in their group of slaves had survived the winter, though a few of the younger children outside hadn’t... they hadn’t made it all the way through.

They’d tried to give them proper graves, a group of children with no one else to remember them, but the ground was far too hard for their skinny arms, so instead they’d lowered them into the river at twilight, purple flowers in their stiff arms, and each said something nice about them. It was miserable and cold. Five had spent all her time pressed into Two's chest, crying quietly, unable to look. They were far too young and far too old all at once.

Ichigo had given Xiao Jiu to Two the next day, and hidden his body away in the woods, far from any other humans. There, his shinigami form was freed from its young shell, and he’d made his way back to the places they’d... found the children.

As he’d expected, each spot had a too small shadow, little ragged children with too short chains and too few layers in the melting snow, hugging themselves miserably and bursting into tears when he said their names. He’d been unable and unwilling to resist the urge to cradle them one last time, so much smaller in his adult arms as they sobbed out onto the thick, expensive fabric over his heart.

“A friend of yours came to ask me to come get you specifically,” he'd half lied to each of them, rubbing the backs of their heads with his large, warm hands. “You've been very special to him, and he doesn’t want you to suffer any... anymore.”

“Are we going to the afterlife, Mr Reaper?” they’d all asked at length, and Ichigo had had to swallow around his tears.

“Yes,” he'd told them. “It's a wonderful place, you don’t need to worry about getting enough food to eat or water to drink. It's warmer there, too. You’ll like it there.”

He'd always hated Rukia telling the ghosts these things, giving them a false hope they wouldn’t even remember in the next life, but – they were too small, too young, he couldn’t do anything else. Perhaps this afterlife was better than the one he'd left.

“Will – will I see my friends again?”

He'd remembered that they had all known each other as well. None of them had lived within a block of the others, though they knew the streets well and the people who'd lived on them. But they didn’t know of the others who had joined them in this final sleep.

“Eventually,” he'd managed, gently releasing them and standing up. “Are you ready to – to go?” Each one had nodded, after a second or a few. “Close your eyes, then. It won't hurt a bit, I promise.”

So trustingly they’d closed their eyes, though they’d never shown that faith in life. Ichigo had unsheathed his sealed Zangetsu, and slowly pressed his hilt to their foreheads. They’d sunk into the light, soft as a feather, and emerged butterflies of purest white, trailing bluish sparks behind them, twirling happily. Perfectly performed konso's, each and every one. He’d watched them fade into the cold grey skies, and only after each had vanished had he moved onto the next.

There were no hollows to fight. There was no one who saw him, or talked to him, or got in his way. None of the children had put up much resistance, each had gone gladly in the end, but still... he was drained and tired. He wasn’t ashamed to admit, even in this ancient form restored to its physical prime, that he wanted a good cry. He wanted some comfort of his own.

He returned to his body, breathing through the agony of resurrection passing over this unadjusted and unprepared mortal body before he could move, and snuck back before dark, slipping past the slavers and handing over his meagre earnings before being let into the room where Two took one look at him and handed Jiu over immediately.

“He missed ya,” she said quietly as he settled back into his arms. “He was nothing but trouble, screaming all day and trying to eat my hair.”

He gave a slightly wet laugh, nuzzling his dirty face into Xiao Jiu's, who cooed and drooled and patted his ears.

“Qi-ge!”

They froze. Ichigo lifted his head, staring wide eyed.

“Qi-ge!” Xiao Jiu repeated, smiling bright and wide, showing tiny pearly white teeth. Ichigo gave a choked laugh, grinning helplessly back.

“That's his first words,” Two breathed. “That's his first word; goodness, Qi, you’re his first word!”

“His first words,” Ichigo wheezed, throat tight and eyes streaming, “Xiao Jiu, Xiao Jiu, say it again, say Qi-ge–”

“Qi-ge!” Xiao Jiu chirped, smug and gleeful, waving his arms towards Ichigo's face, and he broke down, sobbing helplessly as he clutched him tightly to himself, feeling Two crouch down and tug them closer into her arms, lightly swaying as he cried and cried, loud and messy, snotty and sniffling and red faced. Xiao Jiu cooed and placed sloppy open mouthed kisses all over his face, patting his chin in childish attempts at comfort and generally making him cry even harder; just an outpouring of all the emotions he’d had to deal with today, loss and love and heartbreak and joy and his little body couldn’t hold it in any longer.

He faintly heard the rest of the group filter in, felt a gentle hand on his back from Four and some clumsy patting from Five. They didn’t disturb him, though, and eventually his tears were drained and he had nothing left in him, and Two had a blanket thrown to her and tucked it around them both, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead as he curled up around little Jiu like a teddy bear, and he heard her murmurs as they drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Spring moved into summer, and then spun back into autumn. New street kids came and left, their group growing and shrinking on the whim of the slavers that owned them.

Two had been sold one summer night, with only the barest chance to say goodbye. She and Ichigo had talked long about their futures, and she'd revealed a tiny stash of coins to go to Five. She had been saving up since her own arrival.

“If anything had happened, some miracle or somethin', I’d wanted to be prepared," she'd confessed, out of hearing of the others. “If there was some way out of this life, if we could have – run away to the circus, joined some travelling merchants, I don’t know, I'd wanted us ta' take it.”

“And that didn’t happen in time.” Ichigo had agreed, miserably. She'd nodded.

“It's not your fault, it never is.”

“But I could do something–?”

“Wha', you against six grown slavers? Don’t be stupid,” she'd scoffed harshly. “You saw wha' happened when Four tried.”

It had been horrible.

“I know, but–”

“But nothing, Xiao Qi. If ya try anything, if ya even let your hair grow long, you and Xiao Jiu are out on the streets proper, and what'll happen to the rest of 'em? We both know full well it's you holding this lot together, not me. I won't be able to – to be here any longer.”

“Yeah.”

There was a silence.

“But you remember everything I said?” Ichigo had asked, tentatively. She'd scowled, crossing her arms, annoyance and embarrassment both.

“Wha – Come on! You've asked me this like, seven times!”

“Its my lucky number.” Ichigo had deadpanned, and startled a genuine laugh out of her.

“And you're even seven this year. Lucky you.”

“Yeah, yeah, but you do remember, don’t you?”

“Course I remember it, eejit! Hard not to! I’m scarred for life, I tell ya!”

“You'd be more scarred if you didn’t know what you were getting into,” Ichigo had muttered darkly, and she'd sighed fondly.

“I don't know or want ta know where ya get your knowledge about this stuff, but trust me, I'll remember it. Not just about – that gross stuff, but the rest of it.”

“I trained as a healer in my past life, don’t worry.”

“You're really witty today, aren’t ya? Proper comedian. You'll be doing tavern circuits before ya know it. Make enough money to buy your own freedom.”

“Oh harr har,” he shoved her away. They sobered up.

“You know, with your knowledge, you could maybe make it in a sect,” she'd mused. Ichigo had perked up.

“What?”

“Yeah, maybe not one of the big fancy ones, but if you grew out your hair and cleaned yourself up, you might be able to make it as an outer disciple. You'd do good there, I think.”

Ichigo had scoffed.

“Like they'd take a street rat.”

“You never know, you never know. If you hid it you’d be in with a chance.”

“Yeah, but don’t you have to pay to get into even the entrance exams? No way I could afford it.”

“Nah, only some of them. The Huan Hua Palace, for example. They’re supposed to be like, uber rich. I think they’re the only one of the biggest sects that take money, actually. The bigges' one, Cang Qiong, they’re completely free. They even set up tents n' stuff at the bottom of the mountain for people who don’t make it in while the exams are open!”

“That's... nice of them.” Ichigo said neutrally. She'd scoffed again.

“I mean I'm pretty sure they only have to 'cos of the massive steps you need to get up the mountain, some of the fancy rich brats would probably die if they had to go up then back down then have to start travelling the same day. Weaklings, the lot of 'em.”

Ichigo had just hummed, and the conversation had petered off there. He’d tossed it to the back of his mind. He had no reason to join the oh so fabled cultivation sects, he’d already 'ascended'. If he wanted he could just dump this short, malnutritioned body in a river somewhere and head up there right now to live a life of luxury and comfort. Maybe get invited to the neo royal guard, like last time. Course, he'd turned it down that time, but that’s not the point. He'd spent a painful stint as Soul King himself until the throne had managed to piece itself back together and resurrect the old guy, but that was even less the point. Luxury and comfort had never been his goal. A life of riches or Xiao Jiu? It was hardly a competition.

But that was the last any of them had seen Two. He didn’t know if she'd been given a proper name, been handed off to people that would treat her as human, even if she'd been given proper clothes for a change.

Five had been inconsolable. Five years old now, maybe six, and now her last mother figure had been forced to leave her too. She was the eldest girl now, and the others were already expecting her to fill the role that had been left. Ichigo couldn’t spare any time to pick up that burden himself on top of everything else, but had soundly whooped each of the boys for suggesting it. She was five! There were three more people older than her, though one of them was him, so one of the others could pick up the slack instead! Stop being sexist! He had most certainly taught them all better than that!

They were numbered Four through Twelve now, but it would be a few more years before the next lot came of age for selling. He would have to make each day worth it.

Xiao Jiu loved his Qi-ge.

As far back as he could remember, Qi-ge had been there, carrying him around despite being barely bigger himself, but he had seemed so huge and infallible back then. He still was, of course, nothing could stop Qi-ge.

None of the other kids were ever as nice as Qi-ge. Sure, they’d hold him and let him trail behind if Qi-ge asked them to, and Five was nice enough to sneak him the especially nice bits of meat or fruit when they could afford them, but they all eventually got bored of him, tried to get him to stop pulling their clothes or running off or trying to steal food. Qi-ge never made him stop. He was perfectly happy to sit there with Xiao Jiu in his lap as Xiao Jiu fiddled and pulled at his perpetual scarf he’d never seen him take off, chiding him if he pulled too hard or dislodged the scarf too much, but never telling him to shut up with his questions. Qi-ge knew everything! He knew that because when he’d asked that he’d laughed and nodded. That was a yes!

And he told the best stories! Everyone else took turns at bed time when they all got bored or sad, but Qi-ge always had the really cool stories, the ones that had everyone never wanting him to finish. There were dragons and vampires and demons and ghosts and shinigami and princesses and magic! There were even cultivators sometimes, really strong ones with floaty clothes and flying swords! Six gege loved them, but he was silly, the shinigami ones were the best!

He didn’t quite understand why people were mean to him and Qi-ge sometimes, they’d done nothing wrong, Qi-ge said! So he really didn’t understand why they kicked and pulled their hems away and sneered down at him when they begged for money or food, but even if they’d had a really bad day, Qi-ge would always find him food and smile that soft smile and hug Xiao Jiu close. Sometimes the cold would make breathing hurt, and Qi-ge's smile would go funny at the edges, but then he’d bundle him inside his flimsy clothes with him, and Xiao Jiu could cuddle up to the warm skin and fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. Qi-ge always felt warm, even when he was really cold like Xiao Jiu.

Xiao Jiu loved his Qi-ge.

They were sitting in the corner of the street, out of the way of the wind and the public eye as they chowed down on their meagre lunch that he had snuck out of the back bins of a tea house. Ichigo had been reluctant to give Xiao Jiu the mouldy bread, even if he'd picked it clean within an inch of its life before handing it over, but he was fully aware that that would likely be the only meal they would have all day. His own food, breakfast lunch and likely dinner all in one, was a rock hard biscuit just smaller than his palm that would have hurt Xiao Jiu's teeth and had most certainly had something disgusting crawling all over it in the bins. At this point he was almost beyond caring. His stomach ached.

There was relative silence as they both gummed at the stale food, Jiu absently running his fingers over the scars on Ichigo's palm, as he’d been wont to do recently. The feather light touch was almost tickly, but it was just as much a comfort to Ichigo as it was to his younger brother.

Eventually, Xiao Jiu swallowed the last of his bread, barely making a face as he gulped it down, and immediately burrowed himself back into Ichigo's chest, tucking his chilly feet under his thigh.

“Xiao Jiu, you’re freezing me,” he complained, pulling his leg back. Jiu just followed with his feet, digging the icy little appendages right back against his skin.

“Cold, Qi-ge.” He turned a wide eyed gaze up to Ichigo, and he folded like a wet cloth.

“Fine.” Feeling like a soft fool, he tugged his legs closer again, shivering as Xiao Jiu laid himself across every inch of bare skin he could find. He tilted his head back and stared up at him. “What? You’re not getting any of this, you’ve just had your lunch.”

“Tell me about the shi-ni-gami, Qi-ge?”

“What, again? Xiao Jiu, I told you about them this morning. You can't possibly want to hear about them again. Why don’t I tell you about the stars or something, hm? Nobody else wants to know about the stars.”

“Qi-ge, Qi-ge, shi-ni-gami! Please?”

“Alright, alright!” he sighed, taking the biscuit out of his mouth. It could do with a few minutes to get softer. He sighed again, getting comfortable. “Once, very long ago, there lived – or half lived, I'm still not sure – a shinigami called Kurosaki Ichigo. Now, this shinigami was special you see, because even though he spent lots of time in the afterlife, he was still alive. And because he was alive, he had the ability to get really really strong, because he could still grow. Because once a soul is dead, Xiao Jiu, it stops being able to grow and change like a living person. Becoming stronger as a spirit is a lot of hard work, it can take a very long time. So Ichigo was alive, and he was very strong, but there were people who were jealous, they didn’t want him to be strong.”

“Were they the – the bad guys?” Xiao Jiu asked. Ichigo laughed slightly, rubbing his free hand down his back.

“Yes, they were. Well done, Xiao Jiu, that's very clever of you,” he praised.

“Like the slavers?”

“I – no, they weren’t like the slavers at all. They were in charge of a lot more things, and they pretended to be nice and just to get their way. But all the people who worked for them had no other choice but to go along with what they said.”

“Qi-ge, wha' does choice mean?”

Ichigo swallowed harshly.

“Well, Xiao Jiu, it means that sometimes there’s more than one thing you could do, and you gotta pick the one you like. Like if we went exploring in the town centre and got lost, we would either pick to keep walking or go back.”

“Uhuh.” Xiao Jiu had a very deep frown of concentration on. It looked adorable.

When it seemed he wasn’t going to say anything else, Ichigo turned back to his biscuit. It hadn’t softened at all. The kid often liked to just pause and turn over information in his head, using what limited perspective he had to do whatever was going on in his head. He’d learned to just wait it out, Xiao Jiu wasn’t very happy to be interrupted when he was in one of those moods.

After he tried to break the tea biscuit over his knee, failed, and very reluctantly gave it up as a bad job, Ichigo pulled himself to his feet, hauling an unresisting kid onto his hip with ease.

“You're doing a lot of thinking,” he teased, “Want to share with the class?”

Xiao Jiu shook his head furiously, almost knocking himself out of his arms. Ichigo quickly steadied him.

“Alrighty then.”

It was one of the more ambitious attempts at theft, involving three distractions, several blankets, and a few too many raw fish barrels for him to be entirely comfortable with.

Nine at this point was old enough to run at a surprisingly high speed, and able to cry at the drop of a hat, something Ichigo still had yet to master, so Ichigo had tentatively left him with Five to be lookouts while he and a few of the older street boys set up the trap. They hadn’t worked together before, but the possible prize was too great to pass up.

The start of it was that there was a new merchant in town, selling fresh fish at too high a price but also with trays of the much longer lasting salted fish, the kind that could be eaten raw with bare hands if you were desperate.

Very few of the street kids had eaten fish before, and so they had gotten together and decided to pull a grand heist, and see how many fish they could make off with. It could set their meals for the next few days! And if they were lucky, they could use them as rations for when the next cold snap hit.

Maybe it was the child body affecting his decisions, maybe it was that he could tell Xiao Jiu hadn’t been getting enough nutrients, maybe it was just the fact that he missed sushi, but either way Ichigo had volunteered. He was eight years old now and the de facto head of their group of slaves, Xiao Jiu was four – nearly five, by his estimate – and they were street smart and street hard, with no dignity to preserve. They could do this.

The older boys climbed up to the roof of the lowest building, scratching their nails on the rough bricks and tiles, staying low to avoid casting shadows. When they were in place, one of the oldest street rats cupped his hands to his mouth and made a noise startlingly like a magpie.

After a moment, Ichigo spotted Five and Nine moving through the crowd below, and he watched like a hawk as they approached the centre of the street. From the other end would be another girl, one with the lungs of a harpy and the deft fingers of a pianist, who would pretend to fail to snatch a purse and raise havoc over being grabbed by a male.

But all his attention was on his Xiao Jiu.

He saw the broken stick hidden up his trouser leg, he would have to remind him how to conceal weapons again later (a handy trick he’d picked up in his past life, it worked well enough here).

Then Nine tripped. Head over heels, limbs flying, a startled scream, the whole nine yards. A little over dramatic, but exactly what they wanted.

There was a pause, and then the most almighty howl started up. Immediately, Five dropped to her knees beside him, feeling the leg he was clinging to, and started to sob and wail as well, Xiao He! Xiao He! Your leg, your leg!

There were scoffs and eye rolls in their direction, but some of the younger bystanders looked uncomfortable, kids hiding closer to their mothers, older ones beginning to form a loose circle around the pair. Ichigo tensed, fists clenching.

Xiao He! Please, someone help! I think my brother's leg is broken!

Oh, that got everyone’s attention. Ichigo didn’t like it one bit.

Then on the other end of the street, another cry went up, this one of anger. A banshee scream echoed around the market, drowning out even Xiao Jiu's awful cries for a moment.

Let go of me, pervert! Help! Help!

How dare you call me that, you little monster! Stealing my pouch and now trying to ruin me?!

That was their cue. With everyone in the street market fully occupied, all four of the boys began to slide down the roof, pulling old blankets out from under their clothes where they’d tucked them. Ichigo had had to borrow Xiao Jiu's old one, with a promise to wash it in the river as thoroughly as possible when he gave it back.

They leaned over the edge, directly over where the oblivious fish seller bit his lip and tapped his fingers, head swinging between the two disturbances. They looked at each other in glee.

“Ready?” mouthed the eldest boy. They all nodded eagerly. “One, two – three!”

As one, they dived off the roof, two landing directly on top of the seller, smothering him as their weight brought him crashing to the floor. The plan was for this to go relatively unheard amidst all the chaos, allowing them a brief window of time to haul all the fish they could carry into their blankets and hopefully escape back over the building, onto the street on the other side and home free, Ichigo doubling back to get their distractions.

What actually happened was one of the kids misjudged their landing – and cracked a leg off the sturdy wooden poles holding up the fabric overhang. There was a snap, and both it and the kid collapsed, neatly and efficiently drawing the attention of the whole street.

Instantly the yelling and shouting increased ten fold, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Five, face pale, scoop up Xiao Jiu and vanish into the crowd.

Ichigo lunged for the injured kid, nearly tripping over the unconscious seller under a blanket as the rest of them started piling fish into their blankets with an almost maddened ferocity.

“We've got to go, now!” he yelled over the noise, grabbing a shoulder and hauling the rat faced kid to his feet as he tried to not sob grossly. “Hey, can you stand? We need to run.”

“Not a chance!” barked the oldest one, fumbling with the edges of the blanket, “he knew what he was getting into, he can deal with the result. Either get your bag or don’t bother!”

Ichigo froze.

“What?”

“You heard me! We're not stupid enough to stay! If you want to get caught by the guards that’s on you and you alone!”

“No, you can't just – at least –”

They shoved past him angrily, nearly knocking both him and the kid over. Ichigo barely managed to stay standing as they ducked into an alley, followed by the bellowing of the city's guards.

“This way –” the injured kid panted, face screwed up in pain, “They can't follow us through the gap.”

Ichigo bit his lip. The hole in the bushes he was pointing to...

“We can't get there before the guards do. They’ll be on us in seconds.”

“We can, we can.” The kid reassured, giving a harsh, gap toothed grin. “But I'll need you to help me walk.”

Ichigo gave another glance. The only reason they hadn’t already been caught was the many knocked over fish barrels that were rolling down the street, their contents spilling out and turning the cobbles into a stinking marsh, pushing the shoppers further and further away.

“I'll help,” he promised. The kid's grin widened.

“You're a good kid,” he said, leaning his full weight on Ichigo, who took it with barely a grunt. Together, they stepped out from behind the fallen fabric tarp, and shouts rose up again. He couldn’t see the other girl in the crowd, so she too, must have gotten to safety.

They hobbled together through the fishy sludge, the sun already warming them and making the stench rise. Ichigo gagged as he nearly slipped on a fish head, the blank eyes popping under his bare heel.

“Nearly there, nearly there, come on,” the rat faced boy whispered, wincing every time he put weight on his foot. The shouting of guards grew louder, they could hear the barrels being dragged aside.

They made it to the hole, barely large enough to fit a dog.

“There's only space for one,” Ichigo realised, hurriedly, heart pounding in his throat. “You go first, I'll move faster.”

“That's awful nice of ya, kid.” He slipped off Ichigo's shoulder and onto his knees, moving at a quicker pace now he was off his shin. Ichigo glanced back and nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Move move move!” he hissed. “They're nearly on us!”

The kid shuffled to face Ichigo. His face suddenly looked a lot nastier.

“Don't be stupid,” he spat, “there's no way we can both escape, this hole doesn’t go deep enough.”

“Wha–”

A powerful kick to his chest from the one good leg sent Ichigo flying back straight into a hard chest. Wheezing, he turned his head, and just had time to see a foot disappearing behind the branches before a powerful hand grabbed him around the throat.

Instantly, instinctively, he lashed out, choking on air and heartbeat thundering in his ears. There was a yell above him, and the grip loosened slightly, enough for a desperate gulp of air before it tightened again, harsher. He choked.

“Disgusting. All this from just some filthy street kids,” he heard, as sweaty mitts clamped around his thin wrists, yanking them behind his back. He tried to gasp in pain, but could only wheeze through the grip on his neck. “Well, we got one of them. He can answer for what the rest of them did.”

“Aye, but what’s one rat off the street? The ruddy things breed like the rodents they are.”

There was coarse laughter above him, and a fist landed in his gut, making him curl up as he was grabbed roughly and tossed into something dark and solid.

“Ahg, the other trash got away.”

Gasping desperately for breath, he pulled himself up on his knees, resting his weight on his forehead, arms bound uncomfortably behind his back. He toppled over as it began to move, landing on his shoulder painfully.

He was in a prison cart. He could hear the clop of hooves and the murmur of the crowds around him coming in through the thin bars on the window. A wooden bench, nailed down, took up the back – front? Wall.

Oh. Oh no.

Ichigo had been in a prison many times, but only a few from the perspective of the captured, he was normally visiting prisoners. The first had been simply the result of a drunken night with his human friends on the first year anniversary of Yhwach's death; Isshin and Ryuuken had been insufferable when they came to pick them up. Even then, it had just been a night in some cells and home in the morning where Yuzu plied them all with paracetamol and water before Isshin drove Chad and Orihime back home to rest it off.

The other few times had been in Soul Society's strongest prison cells, but those had gone mostly the same way. Waiting for him to sleep off whatever mind control/hallucinogenic/berserker chemicals that had somehow gotten past his several defences (and one time that was actually just straight alcohol, in his defence he’d been dared with something even Kyoraku and Rangiku wouldn’t touch) and then tossing him back into greater society when he was returned to his right mind.

That wasn’t going to happen this time.

This time he was thrown into a cramped cell with a bunch of teenagers, locked in, and left. Occasionally a guard would walk past and spit through the bars, grinning savagely when someone flinched away.

The other children were hardly any better, pinching and kicking to get space on one of the crowded benches at the back and swiping at anything that was close out of boredom and some cornered animal adrenaline that certainly didn’t inspire a friendly air.

Refusing to be provoked by someone twice his weight and height, Ichigo curled up as close to the bars as he could get before some cruel passerby could try and step on his toes, and seethed.

That kid... he’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book, frankly. It was shameful. Three thousand years and the second he’s presented with a childish face in need, what happens? He throws all his instincts out the window, like an idiot.

He'd spent how many years in this world now? Eight? And about half of them had been out on the streets, he should really have learned better. It wasn’t like him to be so slow.

What would Xiao Jiu think of him?

Oh, he must be so worried. This would be the first time since he’d found him that he wouldn’t be sleeping in his Qi-ge's arms, surely Five would try and get him to sleep?

The poor kid. He shouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of Ichigo's stupid decisions.

…

… He missed Xiao Jiu. It would be the first night he’d slept without him in years, as well. He was too used to having that small body in his arms...

Xiao Jiu was almost the same age he had been when he found him?

No. Surely that wasn’t right. That didn’t sound right at all.

…

But he was tiny.

… Maybe if Ichigo pondered on this enough, he’d suppress the burning hate in his stomach that wanted to make him leave his body and burn down the entire station so he could get back to his little brother.

Not like the first step didn’t ensure the second, anyway.

His leg was bouncing. Xiao Jiu, Xiao Jiu, I'll be back as soon as I can.

Chapter Text

The problem, Ichigo was finding, was that when the very act of accessing your powers ran the very high risk of killing everyone around you and you were trapped in a room filled with people, you were left with very few options.

He wasn’t dumb enough to try talking to the teenagers in the cramped cell with him when attempting to make so much as eye contact got him a swift kick to the stomach. He’d dodged, of course, but it wasn’t indicative of anything good. And he himself, physically, couldn’t break through the bars, or fit through the window, or pick the lock that he couldn’t even reach. His spirit energy swirled uselessly through his veins, unable to interact with even the mortal form of its creator.

He strongly doubted the guards would be willing to listen to a word out of his mouth, either. He could fake an injury? Get them to come into the cell to make sure he wasn’t going to keel over in the next few hours?

But that wouldn’t work either. As Ichigo Kurosaki, it would have been a piece of cake, far harder to fake a believable injury than take them all out and charge his way through the complex and to freedom, but that wasn’t something the thin boned Qi could manage, no matter his skill. And he’d felt their indifference to his existence earlier, he doubted they’d so much as lose sleep if a street rat lost his life in an unfortunate accident while in custody.

Not one of those people should have been placed in any position of power over people! It was disgusting! Horrific! No one here had even heard of child protection laws!

There was a shout from behind him. One of the kids had got their hands on another girl's neck, eyes wild as her friends kicked and bit and scratched as they tried to pull her free. His heart entered his throat until a particularly vicious yank broke her free, her friends dragging her to the other side as everyone else suddenly cleared a space around the attacker. Tensions somehow managed to rise even further, people muttering and shoving in the background. It was a simmering boil of directionless aggression, ready to erupt at the first hostility.

There certainly wouldn’t be any help coming from those quarters.

What else could he do?

He could flare his reiatsu until he attracted a hollow and escape in the chaos caused by an invisible attacker?

Unlikely. He couldn’t sense any nearby, and even if he did, what then? Hollows were rarely stupid enough to try and claw through stone when there was a high chance they could find another entrance or failing that, wait in ambush. Even the newest hollows with the freshest instincts were usually better than that. Stronger hollows might try, but then they were just as likely to be able to phase through matter to get at their meal.

That idea would backfire no matter how he went about it. If a hollow didn’t attack within the next few hours they were useless, their presence alone wasn’t going to scare anyone who couldn’t see them.

Fine. Attracting a hollow that would try to go through walls to eat him was a bad idea anyway.

But what did that leave him?

Soul King, he wished he had his fullbring. That, at least, could interact with the mortal world.

He pressed his hands against the cool stone under him. Closing his eyes, he helplessly tried to search for that gentle press of another soul, seeping his reiatsu into the cold floor, but nothing echoed back. Just like always in this life.

After a few minutes he gave up, slumping back against the wall. Did he even still have the power? It was part of his soul, not his human body. Fullbringers had been able to use it even after death, so surely… Maybe it hadn’t been able to mature yet? Like it had the first time. Humans bodies needed time to adjust from scratch, after all, especially when they weren’t born of spiritual blood. Unlike his soul, which had been ready for just about anything right up until his death.

But he was back to square one. No one would be mad enough to come get him, not even the slavers. He wasn’t worth it to them. No one on the inside would work with him to try and escape, and from looking at the hot mess filling the rest of the prison cell, they wouldn’t be trying anything themselves he could take advantage of. Ugh, he wasn’t looking forward to puberty again.

He couldn’t even summon Zangetsu. They’d all been merged into one unfractured soul for so long now he didn’t know where to begin separating them again, and the very idea caused a frisson of fear. He couldn’t enter jinzen in human form anyway.

So – what? What now? How could he get back to Xiao Jiu?

He stilled his leg, dropping a hand on it.

It started bouncing again.

No way in, no way out, no one else going out, or in, and he couldn’t exactly wait it out. He didn’t know what happened to caught street kids, but he knew they never returned.

And that, was unacceptable.

Oh, Xiao Jiu would be so scared…

Almost against his will, he began to settle in, leg bouncing in frustration as his mind spun in circles, round and round and round. The dim light filtering through the bars cast shadows on his bony knuckles as they flexed and pressed against his knees.

Moonlight was streaming through the tiny window. One by one, the other children in the cell had finally dropped off to sleep wherever the night found them, curled up on the bench, leaning against shoulders, lying pressed up with their backs to the wall with an arm under their head.

Only the child who had tried to strangle the other girl stayed awake, staring unblinkingly at Ichigo, who stared back, too on edge to even close his eyes. She had a clear space around her, none of the others willing to sleep too near but lack of room to move elsewhere had forced them close.

Another guard patrol approached, heavy clomping feet and rasping breath. Ichigo tiredly tipped his back against the stone to watch him pass.

Oh?

There was a stern faced woman following him, in yellow robes, a sword strapped to her hip. Her face pinched further at the sight of him, before her eyes slid past him and further into the dimness. They paused in front of the bars, the jingling of the guards keys against the leather armour rousing the lightest of the sleepers.

“My lady.” The guard bowed his head as the door creaked open, startling the rest awake. The cell was silent apart from the uneasy shifting of fabric, all eyes on the adults outside. Neither Ichigo nor the teenager moved. “This one believes that the demon you seek is in one of these children.”

Like a lightning bolt had struck the room, everyone jolted to full attention. People began to shift and pull away from each other, tense and nervous. The air felt electrified. Ichigo shrunk back, pulling his scarf lower over his hair. He had no idea if the colour would sway the probable cultivator, he couldn’t risk it. Not for the first time did he curse it following him into this life.

Instead of stepping in, the woman held up a thin strip of paper. Confused, he squinted, making out strange swirls and lines in ink in the dim light before it lit up like a star in her hands. He heard other yelps as he blinked the after-images away.

“It seems you are correct, sir. Your supervisors were right in sending for Huan Hua's aid.”

A demon?! In there with them?!

Chaos.

The thin mask of civility shattered like glass inside the cell, the children breaking apart into a great cloud of shouting and shoving and panic, driven higher by the cramped, low walls and past few hours of incarceration. They turned on each other in an instant, and the hairs on Ichigo's neck went up as he was pushed aside into the bars, banging his ear painfully and making a headache immediately flare up. He pulled his scarf lower still and slunk further into the corner he’d been shoved into, fully aware of being quite comprehensively surrounded and thoroughly disliking the sensation.

A ringing crash rang out, Ichigo flinching away from the vibrating bars in pain. The noise level dipped.

“SHUT UP, YA USELESS BRATS!” the guard roared, baton raised threateningly. Beside him, the cultivator – from Huan Hua palace, he’d seen that symbol before – looked bored.

Silence fell, tense and unhappy. A few of the teens were eyeing the open door warily.

She stepped into the doorway, and as one the others slunk back like a single entity. Like mice under the gaze of a cat. The guard looked gleeful, and Ichigo forced down another wave of hatred. Giving protectors a bad name, he was.

“We will be testing you one by one,” she announced. “If you pass, you will wait outside in the hallway for the test to be completed, and after you will be returned to your cell. Any attempt to escape during that time will be treated as an admission of guilt and handled accordingly.” The man’s grin widened.

That could be a way out. If Ichigo could be one of the first out he could make it so he was one of the very furthest from the cell. The corridor went both ways but the right only led deeper into the row of empty identical cells, though he’d not seen much of it when he was being manhandled into the cell, so the guard would be staying on the left. Perhaps if he could slip away and hide in an empty cell or around the corner he wouldn’t be noticed until the guard had left and then he could try and sneak out to freedom.

Unfortunately the rest seemed to have had similar ideas, or perhaps they just wanted out. They all began to push and shove their way towards the exit, scared and paranoid of the hidden monster in their midst.

This time, with a hope of escape in sight, Ichigo dug his heels in, using his smaller size to duck and elbow his way through the throng, stepping on toes and generally forcing his way forward. Everyone was packed too tightly for any real retribution, though he had to squeeze away from the grasping hands by his head.

He made it into the first third, getting unceremoniously yanked out of the squash of bodies and another kido – cultivation talisman slapped onto his head. He didn’t yell, but it was a near thing, and the talisman was soon peeled off under the suddenly appraising gaze of the cultivator. He was shoved out into the corridor, gasping for breath, and finally got a chance to look around. His heart sank.

The corridor heading right was a dead end, a cornerless, windowless thing with thick bars all down its length; thick, locked deadbolts and padlocks hung from all the doors.

There wasn’t a way out.

He turned, but couldn’t see the guard between the taller teens, who were finally beginning to settle the larger the cleared group grew. He was definitely the youngest by far – why had they thrown him in there with them?! The next youngest looked nearly twice his age!

Was it his hair? Had they seen it despite his attempts at hiding it, did they suspect he was the demon and tossed him in with the other suspects?

How had they got the idea that there was a demon at all, anyway? Was there some way to sense them that he hadn’t learned?

That was bad. He was never a master sensor like some others in Soul Society, but he could pick up on bad intent a mile away – he should have noticed this! Was it the lack of spiritual energy that was throwing him off? This world hardly had an abundance of it.

How was he supposed to keep Xiao Jiu and himself safe if he couldn’t notice this apparently common enemy? If a demon could just – take over someone or impersonate them, he wouldn’t be able to tell.

Not for the first time since being reborn, Ichigo Kurosaki, now Qi, felt extremely vulnerable.

And then a hush fell over the corridor. He snapped back to attention.

“Get out,” the cultivator was saying, a hand on her sword and one foot in the prison. “Your death will be swifter if you do.”

He crept closer, careful not to draw attention, and carefully peeked into the now empty cell, still shaken.

It was the girl who'd tried to strangle the other, the one who'd been watching Ichigo all evening. She hadn’t moved, leaning up against the back wall in exactly the same way she'd been for hours.

And it was stupid, but it was a relief. His instincts had been pinging on her, she had stood out from the crowd, even before she attacked the other girl – he wasn’t completely defenceless against this new threat.

“Last chance, before the kind guards have to scrub your blood off the stone,” the cultivator threatened, face blank but for her narrowed eyes. The demon didn’t move, even as the attention outside slanted towards the other woman for a moment. Looked like they were all in agreement about the local law enforcement.

No reaction, but the demon's eyes bled black. A shiver ran through him.

A step – clang.

The cell door slammed shut behind her, untouched. She startled, barely resisting spinning around. Her hand tightened on her sword, and she slowly began to slide it out of its sheath, the drawn out scrape of metal on metal echoing quietly off the bars. The guard yelped, making a motion to move forward before eyeing the group and reluctantly settling back on his heels.

Only now did the demon move, a wide grin slowly moving over its features, revealing teeth too sharp for a human body. The candlelight reflected off its pitch black eyes, giving a blank sheen like an animal's eyes staring back at night.

“Filth,” the woman spat, her sword at the ready and deadly sharp. Ichigo noticed with interest the unnatural shine it had, like it was lit up from within. “All the recent deaths in this town lead straight to you, don’t think you’ve done unnoticed! You must pay for your crimes!”

There was a strangled whimper from behind him – the poor girl with the bruises around her neck – and as if that was some cue, the demon lunged.

Claws met blade with an awful screech, and the pair leapt apart again, pacing a circle around the edges of the small cell. The audience shuffled back as the demon moved past the bars, despite the small teenage body looking unintimidating compared to the lethally graceful cultivator when its back was turned.

Some black substance dripped from its claws, hissing and spitting when it hit the floor. Her enemy narrowed her eyes further, hand leaving her sword to reach into a pocket –

A dark swathe exploded across the back wall, the stone itself burning and melting as ebony scoured the room. Ashes of a talisman fluttered to the floor before the cultivator but more were already flying through the air, leaving streaks of light that the demon batted aside with a hiss. The pair clashed and broke apart, yellow robes flaring and dancing as she dodged and swiped, countering harsh kicks and blows. A talon caught the edge of the fabric and shredded it like tissue paper.

Screams rang out around him, the crowd moving back and back. A few tried to run, shoving past the thick sides of the guard and barrelling away. With a roar, he broke off and charged after them, prompting a mass desertion, more than two thirds racing deeper into the complex and almost instantly meeting resistance. Shouts and yells rang out on all sides, Ichigo trapped between two equally merciless enemies.

A flash of light severed the bars of the cell, once, twice, as the demon ducked and leapt to the side. The crash of thick metal spilling onto the stone was barely heard over the screams and clash of fighting, but Ichigo froze, pressing himself closer to the wall and scooping one up, heavy but with a wicked end.

He had an idea. It was the riskiest yet.

More scythes of darkness blew from the cell, the sizzling of stone becoming more and more prevalent over the chaos of the night. Inside, the pair were moving almost too fast to track, clashing and crashing in dizzying spirals, attention locked solely on each other.

Stars shone through the tiny gap in the wall behind them, the grey stone almost rotted through. The bars of the high window lay scattered about underneath their feet, half dissolved in the void.

Carefully, Ichigo bent down, scooping the rest of the broken bars into his arms. Keeping low, he slunk in front of the broken cell door, half hanging off its hinges, and crouched, sliding the poles through the bottom. There was a hiss as they encountered the patches of ooze covering nearly the entire floor, but that was fine. There were enough to make a difference.

A spark of light, and he lunged for the wall. Sparks flew and more beams crashed down directly where his head had been a second ago. His heartbeat thundered.

Wary not to touch the hot edges, he scooped them up too, and fed them back into the room. A pile had formed now, partially sunken into the craters in the floor, but slippery and loose in the corner furthest from the starlight.

He hefted the last of the bars, crept back around the wall, and waited. There was barely any space left to stand, more flat gaps between valleys of acid than a solid floor. Both the demon and the cultivator avoided it, almost fighting over floor space as much as with their weapons.

Then – it happened. The demon took a step back, trusting its peripheral vision to avoid the black, and stepped directly onto the unsteady, unanchored bars. Her foot went out from underneath her as the ground slipped away, and Seven was moving almost as soon as the cultivator was, lunging through the crooked door and behind her back as she sprinted across the room. The demon recovered quickly, deflecting a stab to the head into the wall beside it, but it was a misstep it couldn’t afford, now pinned up against the wall as it was.

Jumping from spot to spot, Ichigo fled across the room towards the starlight, shoving the bar between the cracks in the dripping black stone and hauling his entire weight onto it, barely avoiding the acid as it hissed and crackled, and then fresh air hit his face as he tipped forwards and kicked on the bar, sending his small body flying through the tiny gap and onto the grass below. He scrambled up before he’d even caught his breath, feet pounding as the shouting and crashing and screaming faded behind his back.

He vanished into the shadows, not looking back.

He was the only one to escape that night.

Chapter Text

A sharp kick to the hip woke him up with a startle, and he swallowed down the old instinctive urge to body slam the attacker out the window before his mind caught up to him and he shuffled out of the way of the slaver by the door. His bones ached, both from the cold of sleeping outside and all the running and straining yesterday.

“Shouldn't have come back, dumb brat,” he snapped down at him, fishing the slave room keys out of his pocket, “would have saved us all the bother of tossing you when you finally kick the bucket yourself, ya don’t got much longer left anyway.”

With a click, the heavy padlock unlocked. He pocketed the key and aimed a swift kick at Ichigo, who rolled neatly out of the way, before sticking his head in through the doorway.

“Oi, useless garbage! UP! UP! If you’re not out the door in ten seconds boss is gonna give you all a right hiding, ya barely made quota yesterday so don’ go thinking ya deserve any food until ye've doubled it! You’re barely worth it anyway, worthless rats every las' one of ya and DON'T YOU FORGET IT!”

He pulled his head back, threw another avoided swipe at Ichigo for good measure, spat on him, and left, stomping his back back to the main house entrance. Ichigo sneered after him in disgust, wiping his face. There was a clatter on the stairs below and Ichigo turned to see Ten appear first, blearily rubbing his eyes and yawning in the cold morning air. He froze.

“Qi gege?”

His shoulders loosened.

“Hey Ten. Sorry I was late back last night.”

He steadied himself just in time to catch an armful of bawling six year old.

“Qi! Qi! Seven gege is back! You’re okay!”

There was a thundering on the stairs and the door flung fully open to invite a tidal wave of children.

“You idiot! I can' believe ya got caught! Don’t ever do that again, ya hear me?!”

“Seven! You’re okay!”

“OUTTA MY WAY!”

A small figure shoved its way through the little crowd, and Ichigo immediately dropped Ten to the side and crouched down, nearly falling onto his back from the sheer force of the lunge if not for Five glued to his hip, and hugged back equally as fiercely.

“Xiao Jiu, Xiao Jiu!”

Xiao Jiu sobbed openly into the thin fabric of his robe, burying his cold nose into the crook of his neck inside his scarf and wrapping his legs tightly enough around his torso that he could barely breathe with the arms locked around his neck. He didn’t care.

He rocked from side to side as his little brother howled into his shoulder, only readjusting his own tight grip to run a hand soothingly through his hair, barely long enough to tie back with a loose string. His own face was buried in a smaller neck, eyes tightly closed as he fought not to sob from the sheer release of tension he’d been holding onto for nearly two days and the relief of finally having the kid in his arms again. Five caught him as he swayed just a little too far, and he opened his eyes to see her far too understanding smile for a child barely seven. It looked enough like Two's that he had to close them again.

He was home.

Life returned to the norm for one living on the streets. Begging, busking occasionally when they managed to get hold of some props, pickpocketing every few days so as not risk getting caught, teaching the kids how to count and take care of injuries and read as best he could with his own limited knowledge, preparing them to survive in this world that sought to keep them down and powerless.

“Knowledge is power,” he told them firmly, “and you can use that power to stay one step ahead of the game. Knowing how to use the stars to orient yourself doesn’t seem that useful now, when you know this town inside and out, but if you get taken or lost this could be the difference between life and death. No knowledge is useless. Now, show me how you would break out of a grapple again.”

However, whereas before he could snatch a few moments of respite to himself, moments he could get distracted by nothing or just exist, now he was accompanied every second of every day by a clingy, uncooperative limpet.

Xiao Jiu had refused to leave his side for an instant since he had been captured.

Times he would have been happy to leave his Qi-ge's side, spending time with the rest of the children in the evenings or running ahead or learning to pickpocket the easy targets picked out for him, were now times he would shake his head fiercely at the mere suggestion and burrow his head back into his chest.

Ichigo sighed.

“Kid, you’ve got to let go sooner or later. I'm not going to go anywhere.”

There was a mumble muffled in one of the patches of his robe, one Xiao Jiu often liked to pick at to Ichigo's resignation. “Speak up, Jiu-di, I can't hear you all the way down there.”

“… don’t wanna.”

Ichigo refrained from sighing yet again.

“How about if I hold your hand as you climb down, that way you don’t have to let go of me at all.”

There was a more thoughtful pause, but Jiu still shook his head, wiping his nose all over Ichigo's front in the process.

“Xiao Jiu, please, I need to put you down to get us something to eat, you haven’t been eating right.”

“No.”

“Xiao Jiu...” Giving in to the urge to sigh, Ichigo crouched down by the side of the street and gently peeled him off his front, leaning him back against his knees. He went unwillingly, nearly ripping another patch off in the process. “There's no reason for me to go anywhere right now, okay? Once we can eat I'll hug you nice and tight again, promise. But you need to eat, Xiao Jiu, you need all the food you can get. Please, for Qi-ge?”

Nine stopped trying to wriggle Ichigo's hands off his shoulders to burrow back into his Qi-ge and turned his big, soulful gaze to his face. That stare always felt as if the four year old was looking into his very soul and judging it, and this time was no different. He waited it out with a patient, gentle smile, the kind that Yuzu and Karin and their descendants would always calm down under, the kind that he only showed them, and this time was no different.

With a small sniffle, the grip on his robes eased, and, wrapping smaller fingers around his, he slid Xiao Jiu carefully off his lap and onto the ground, the kid clutching tightly and looking uneasy the entire time. Ichigo's heart clenched. He straightened up, blood rushing to his feet at the break from the extra weight he’d been carrying all week, and Xiao Jiu pressed himself right into his side again, hands clutching his fingers too tightly. Ichigo didn’t complain at the discomfort, tugging gently to lead them off down the street again and to the old baker who was one of the few who would sell to kids like them, no questions asked. Still, it wasn’t often that they could afford it, both monetarily and physically – if they didn’t earn enough to disguise the loss, the slavers would take it out of their flesh. But if it was what it took to get his kid to eat, he’d take the risk.

“Two plain rolls, please.” Ichigo was just tall enough to see over the counter easily, and dropped ten copper coins onto it. The bakery was empty apart from them, luckily, so he’d felt no fear coming in. The baker looked up with a toothless smile.

“Ah, little Seven! How are you today, where’s your brother?”

“Good, thanks.” Ichigo smiled back. Despite his words, the man had never treated him like a child, and it made entering his shop a relief every single time. He didn’t really mind being treated as a kid apart from the way most adults acted towards him, but over a millennium and a half of being the oldest living thing in all three worlds had meant the transition had been... jarring. “Xiao Jiu is here with me, of course. He’s just a bit short when I'm not carrying him, aren’t you?”

“Am not.”

He and the baker shared a little chuckle as he pulled two fresh rolls from the shelves with wooden tongs and tucked them into a paper bag. Ichigo's mouth watered almost painfully.

“Say hi to the baker,” he chided softly. Xiao Jiu wrinkled his nose at him, and Ichigo flicked his eyes to the counter pointedly.

“...'Lo.”

“And hello to you too, Little Nine. Where are you? Ah, hello!” The baker leaned over the counter as he handed the bag over, a faint warmth seeping through the cheap paper, grinning down at a sulky not-quite-ex toddler who buried his face into Ichigo's hip to avoid him. “My, he’s not normally this shy.”

“It's been a rough few days,” Ichigo admitted, squeezing his fingers in comfort. The baker tsked in sympathy, and the bell tinkled as another customer stepped in. Immediately, the bag of rolls vanished up Ichigo's sleeve, face blank. Xiao Jiu edged behind him.

The man sneered down at them, looking as if he’d barely avoided stepping in dung.

“They were just leaving,” the baker interrupted, kind and wrinkled face now stern. The man turned to complain to him, and they took their cue to leave with a brief nod to the baker behind the other man’s back.

The bell tinkled again as the door closed behind them, and Xiao Jiu held his hands up expectantly, still not letting go of Ichigo's. He shook his head.

“No no, we're going to walk to the lunch spot first.”

“Qi-ge…”

“No, Xiao Jiu, please wait. It’ll only be a minute.”

“But...” Green grey eyes started to fill with tears, and Ichigo's will crumbled. “You said hug after ya got the food.”

“That's not what I – of course, my mistake, I did say that, didn’t I? Come here.”

Little arms wrapped gladly down his neck when he bent down and scooped him up, legs coming to rest around his waist automatically. All the tension fell out of Xiao Jiu's body and he dropped his head against his shoulder. Ichigo sighed and patted him. Poor kid.

They took their rare fresh lunch with some edible berries Ichigo nicked from a garden as they passed, sitting atop a flat roof to keep away from the stray animals that would fight a demon king for a crust.

The sky was clear and bright overhead, the bustle of the streets below floating up to them as they sat together. Xiao Jiu copied his crossed legs and straight back as Ichigo handed him his portion, ripping the paper bag in half to use as a makeshift napkin to keep the food clean from whatever dirt was on their hands.

He ran a hand through the little one's hair and Xiao Jiu leaned into it, absently letting Ichigo tuck stray hairs behind his ear and retie the stubby ponytail as he feasted on fresh bread.

It was peaceful. It was relaxing. It was a moment with nothing to do.

The flaky crust and warm, soft insides were divine on his tongue.

“Feeling better now?” he asked, Xiao Jiu leaning sleepily into his lap. “That's the most I've seen you eat in days.”

“Mn.”

Ichigo laughed gently, smoothing black hair down again. He smiled down at his little brother, warm and fond. Something familiar welled in his chest.

“I love you, didi,” he told him. “I love you very much.”

Xiao Jiu rolled back to face him, round face open. He clumsily raised a hand and patted Ichigo's chin.

“Love you too, Qi-ge,” he said bluntly, as if he should have known that already.

Ah...

Something stung the back of his throat, and his eyes grew tight.

Green eyes widened, and Xiao Jiu scrambled upright, nearly headbutting him in the process. “Qi-ge! Qi-ge, don’ cry!”

“I'm not crying,” Ichigo muttered, swallowing.

“Yeah you are, Qi-ge! Don’ be silly!” Little hands wrapped around his arms. He couldn’t even reach all the way round.

“'M not being silly,” Ichigo buried his head into the soft hair, pulling his forearms free to hug Xiao Jiu tightly. He heard a sniffle, and pulled back. “Are you crying too?” he asked wetly.

“M'nuh!”

“You are. Xiao Jiu, why are you crying? I’m the one who started it.” He frowned down at him.

“N-not'in'.”

“Xiao Jiu...”

“Not'in'!” There was another sniffle, and Ichigo gave a shaky sigh and pressed his cheek into his hair. “Jus'... missed you.”

The thing in his heart swelled again, and Qi hugged tighter, scarf hood hanging down and hiding him from the world.

“I missed you too,” he told him. “I missed you very very much when I was caught. I knew you’d be so scared.”

A snuffle and a nod.

“Everyone was... we all were real scared, Qi-ge. Four said – he said – ”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” He remembered the relief on their faces, the joy in which they’d all hugged him. “But I was most worried about you, you know?”

“R-really?”

“Really, Xiao Jiu.” He managed a little smile. “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re my favourite, you know?”

There was a quiet gasp, and Xiao Jiu finally sat up, scrubbing at his reddened eyes. His heart twinged.

“Really? I'm your fav-er-ut?”

“Mhm. Favourite.”

“Fave-rut.”

“Do you know what that means, Xiao Jiu?”

“Uhuh!” Ah, his eyes had dried up again. Ichigo subtly wiped his own on the edge of his hood. “It means bestest!”

Ichigo couldn’t help but give a slightly crooked smile.

“It does, you’re very clever.”

“I'm Qi-ge's bestest!”

“You're my favourite didi,” he nodded, eyes now dry but heart full to bursting. Xiao Jiu mimicked him, but his eyes grew solemn. “What's the matter?”

“Qi-ge… if I'm the bestest, why did you leave wi'out me?”

Oh. Oh, Xiao Jiu...

He tipped his head forward to touch Nine's, who stared back.

“Sometimes we have to leave, just for a short while. It doesn’t mean we can't come back, though,” he murmured into the space between them.

“But... they made you leave. The big scary men. And Five didn’t let me come with!”

“I was taken, Xiao Jiu. I didn’t get a choice. Some people like to try and stop other people having choices, it makes them feel more powerful.”

Xiao Jiu wrinkled his nose. From his angle, Ichigo could see every line and eyelash. He laughed gently.

“But don’t worry, Xiao Jiu. I'll come back every time.”

“Even if you’re dead? Even if you get turned into a – a shinigami again?”

“Yes, Xiao Jiu. Even then.”

Chapter Text

The air was thick with the smell of incense and gold with the glow of a thousand lanterns. Far above the bustling crowd were the gathered slaves – scattered across the rooftop like they were, their tattered and stained robes blended in well with the brown tiles. Ichigo sat at the front of the small group, Xiao Jiu curled in his lap as always, tracing his smaller fingers over the scars and calluses of Ichigo's and watching the many couples down on the street below avidly. The sound of some faint music drifted over to them on the warm late afternoon wind. From their position, he could see the sun just beginning to sink, casting the clouds the slightest pinks and blues.

“Six, you saw the slavers leaving?” he confirmed, not turning around.

“En. They were heading for the red light district, just like ya said.”

“That's exactly what we want. Good idea, Four, they’ll be there all night. We've got until the sun is next over the roofs before they return. Until then –” he stood up then, Jiu spilling only mostly pliantly from his lap, “– this is the Double Seventh festival, my brothers and sisters, and that means there’s chocolate and tangulu and sweet meats everywhere. Everyone will be out and about and wrapped up in each other in their fanciest clothes. And you know what that means!”

“Food!”

There was a ripple of laughter.

“Haha, yes, Xiao Jiu, and a thousand targets to pick blind! The festivals are gold mines for us street kids, and we have to make the most of it! Everyone's letting their guards down, the vendors, the guards, the rich masters and mistresses. This is one of the few times we have to ourselves and we have to make the most of it – and so the mission, my men –”

“And women!” Five piped up.

“– And women, is one of the utmost importance. We have until the dawn to get ourselves full and sated, to gather as much money and trinkets we can get our hands on. But! It isn’t truly a festival unless everyone has fun! So I expect each one of you to enjoy yourselves to the maximum! Those are your orders!”

More laughter, and the group tossed salutes, eyes bright with glee and anticipation.

“Gather your teammate and go! I refuse to see any of you again until the dawn unless there’s a problem! Go wild and have fun! Shoo!”

“Aye, captain!” They chanted, scrambling to their feet and grabbing the hands of the partner that Ichigo had assigned long ago, one older with a younger. Six and Eight darted off the roof, giggling together. Five and Twelve bounded across to the next roof and into the fading light. Ten and Eleven skittered together over the other side of the wall and away. Four, partnerless, gave another jaunty salute and jumped backward after their youngest pair with a cackle.

Nine beamed up at him, hands already reaching for his own, and he gave a wide grin in response, ruffling his hair and tucking his own scarf tight before scooping him up and running west, towards the setting sun, jumping from roof to roof with bright laughter vanishing behind.

“Qi-ge, Qi-ge, look!” Xiao Jiu jumped forward, dragging Ichigo towards another stall. He followed obediently, lifting another few pennies from a young couple as Xiao Jiu shoved past them.

“Ooh, what's this?” he asked. The vendor grinned down at them, a man with a magnificent moustache that normally snarled and swiped at them whenever they tried to approach his stall. Perhaps his intricate little tea sets, painted in rich reds and decorated with song birds and haitangs for the occasion, were suddenly affordable for little urchin brats.

Maybe it was something to do with the plump and smiling woman working the stall next to him with her beautiful bundles of poppies and the fact that he had one in his hair.

The normally irritable man let Seven and Nine investigate his wares with wide eyes and loudly waxed on about the details and myths behind the flowers and animals on the teacups and pots when Jiu asked, and their suitability for the night's theme. Ichigo shook his head indulgently and only pried his Xiao Jiu away when the kid looked like he was about to try and touch one of the plates. That wouldn’t have ended well, no matter the uncharacteristically good mood.

“Qi-ge! I wanted ta' see!”

“We wouldn’t have been allowed to stay there any longer, Xiao Jiu, better to go before he gets mad at us.”

“But he was really weird and happy! He totally would'a let us stay!”

“Ah, he was beginning to look a little annoyed again, did you see that little furrow on his brows? And that his fingers stopped tapping?”

“... En. So was he mad, Qi-ge?”

“No, not yet, but better to head it off before we had to deal with it. You understand?”

Xiao Jiu frowned, sulky but thoughtful again, his eyes settling on Ichigo's sleeve as he fiddled with it. Ichigo looked around, and spotted a little table selling bright paper windmills. Its owner was busy on the other side, handing them out to a large family and chatting easily with the parents as they counted out coin.

With a quick glance, Ichigo drifted past, close to the table, and only when they were round the corner and out of sight did he jostle Jiu.

“Jiu-di, look what I found.”

Shaken out of his thoughts, Xiao Jiu looked up, and saw the little blue and green pin-wheel held in a thin and scarred hand. Mouth forming a little 'o' he reached out, and Ichigo handed it to him gladly.

“Wazz'it?”

“What is it? It's a little paper windmill, like the ones across the river you can see above the trees. When the wind blows it makes the blades spin, see?” He leaned down and gave it a gentle puff, and Jiu made delighted noises as it spun on its stick, the middle blurring into a soft sea green. He copied his brother and gave a mighty blow, spraying spittle and puffing his cheeks, and again the little thing whirled.

“Qi-ge, Qi-ge, look!”

Ichigo gave a laugh.

“I can see, isn’t it pretty?”

“En!”

They continued through the crowd, Ichigo making better progress now that Xiao Jiu was so utterly enthralled, slipping between strangers and dodging between stalls to take coin and trinkets with a skill and ease, even encumbered, that his past self would never have seen in himself. He raised no alarm, caught no eye, just another impoverished child enjoying the festival. Up above the crowd, he caught a glimpse of Ten, bounding along a fence and a great cape of stolen bunting flapping behind, shrieks of laughter following. Ah, but he didn’t want to know.

Soon, the many hidden folds and crooks of his clothes were almost bulging with pennies, and Xiao Jiu had puffed himself dizzy on the little propeller. They had exchanged a few coins for a steaming meat bun each, and Ichigo had liberated a few sticks of tangulu for a decadent dessert, small ribbons tied around the handle. With no hands free, it was a trick to keep Xiao Jiu from licking one of the fruits by his ear.

Weaving through the other festival goers, they followed the sound of strumming instruments and a muffled, thrumming voice to a large plaza.

Treats suddenly forgotten, Xiao Jiu stared out of his arms. Night had truly fallen, and the street was almost unrecognisable, hung every inch with red lanterns and bunting. The walls were lined with freshly picked branches and gossiping stall owners on blankets, their wares carelessly at their feet. Along one side a wooden stage had been built and painted, gold and red and green and hung with candles, casting everything in a warm red glow. Upon it were performers, singers, musicians, with elegant instruments and ringing drums, and a lilting chorus that ebbed and flowed high above the dancing, twirling crowd, dressed in their finest hanfu and tang suits. As a colourful sea, they crashed and spun as one, some vibrant dance they all seemed to recognise.

“Woah...” Xiao Jiu whispered.

They tucked away just round the corner, out of sight of the main crowd. Jiu settled easily next to him on the steps of some dark house, making grabby hands for the bun and trying to fit it whole into his mouth before Ichigo had even let go.

“You did so well waiting,” Ichigo praised, digging his teeth into his own and trying not to groan at the sweet sauce and hot, tender meat. Xiao Jiu made a noise that could have been pleased agreement if not for the fact that in trying to fit the whole bun at once, he'd gotten some of the sauce even on his nose. Ichigo wiped it off and shoved the finger into his mouth to capture even the last few smears of the sauce, and grinned around it at Jiu's sound of complete disgust.

Their bare feet kicked against the wooden slats in time, neither tall enough to reach the ground. The chatter and songs and the muffled stomp of feet drifted over them, the red lanterns providing enough light, even as far away as they were, to see the other in the dark. Licking the last of the flaky crumbs and sauce off his fingers, Ichigo began to hum along. They sat in perfect, content silence as Xiao Jiu finished eating, swinging their heels into each others ankles and staring up at the clear night sky. A few soft words might have been said between them, but looking back, he couldn’t remember.

Then he revealed the tanghulu he'd hidden, and Xiao Jiu's face lit up.

“Really?” he asked, wide eyed staring at them, as if Ichigo had successfully stolen them and then carried them around for the better part of half an hour for Xiao Jiu to not have one. Ah, it would be a quarter shichen here, wouldn’t it?

“En,” Ichigo handed one over in favour of saying anything more, and Xiao Jiu took it like it was made of the finest gold leaf. “Your first tangulu. We'll try it together, yeah? I've never had one either.”

“Never?” he whispered, and Ichigo nodded. “But Qi-ge's done everything!”

“There's a lot of things I haven’t done, Xiao Jiu.” Ichigo grinned despite himself. “But I'll share them with you, won't I? So we can do them together.”

Xiao Jiu's mouth opened in a tiny, perfect circle, and he nodded furiously, fist clenching around the thin stick. Ichigo gently tapped the tangulu with his own in a toast.

“Clink.”

“Clink!”

And they both shoved the first chunk of apple into their mouths. Xiao Jiu's eyes widened again, as the sugars and fruit burst on his own tongue.

That night, they feasted, silent apart from chewing and licking, and then when they were finished they pretended to be cultivators and duelled with the sticky prongs. And as their food went in Jiu demanded to tie the ribbons in Ichigo's hair, despite its length, so Ichigo obligingly bent forwards and had sticky red ribbons tied in his fringe, and the last one went around his little brother's longer bangs, because they'd gotten covered in tangulu sugar as well somehow. He licked his thumb and scrubbed their faces thoroughly as Xiao Jiu squirmed.

A new song started up as they listened, something a little more fast paced and louder, and Ichigo lifted Xiao Jiu down to tug him back towards the busy plaza.

“Do you want to join in?” he asked, finger already tapping on the smaller palm.

“With tha' music?”

“With the dancing! Do you want to dance, Xiao Jiu?”

“Oah, en! I wanna dance with Qi-ge!”

They stepped around the corner and were hit with a wall of noise. Stamping, voices, drums, pipas, guqins, the hustle and bustle of a festival still in full swing. Skirts and ribbons twirled and flashed, metal glinted red and gold in the fire light of the lanterns, hair spun and bounced. Dancers resting on the sidelines cheered and clapped in time to the music, the air was vibrant.

Ichigo knew they wouldn’t be let into the depths of the throng, not with their small bodies and dirty clothes, but Xiao Jiu didn’t need to know that, if he hadn’t already noticed. He was a sharp kid.

Instead, he took leant down to take both of Xiao Jiu's hands in his, in the corner of the plaza, a red lantern bobbing above them from a dark wooden beam, and began to swing them side to side to the beat of the drum.

“Ready? Move your feet back a bit, just like mine – one, two, three, four!”

Bouncing on his feet, the utmost concentration on his face, Xiao Jiu clumsily copied his movements. “Well done! And again! One two three four, and lift your arms up, ready?”

They spun on the spot, barefoot on the cobbles, bobbing from side to side. Jiu wore a massive smile, squinting his whole face to grin up at him, and Ichigo beamed openly back, leading them through another spin with the decorated dancers behind him, mirroring the leaps and twirls as best they could.

“Spin~! Spin~!”

“Now, when I say, jump really really high, Xiao Jiu!”

The chorus reached a crescendo, and as the song reached its peak, all the following dancers leapt into the air, carried by their leads. Ichigo hoisted Xiao Jiu as high as he could and spun again, bringing shrieks of laughter from him until he hit the floor.

“Qi-ge! Again, again!”

Ichigo laughed openly, warm and light.

“When the music says, Xiao Jiu.”

“Yeah!”

It seemed like hours later that they slowed to a stop, the celebrations winding down as the children of the town began to leave for their warm beds, the half moon high in the sky. Slipping away from the plaza now swaying along to a slower love song, Ichigo cradled a tuckered out Xiao Jiu against his chest and hid his own yawns in black hair as they stepped between happy and tipsy adults.

Limbs all warm and tired from all their dancing, he plodded along, back home to the basement room, the night air chilling his heated skin.

Xiao Jiu yawned widely into his collarbone and snuggled closer, head lolling further. Ichigo cupped it gently to prevent him from tipping out of his arms and hummed.

“Just a little longer, didi, and then we can get you to bed.”

“Mn.” Xiao Jiu murmured sleepily. “Love you, Ichi-nii.”

Oh.

Something caught in his lungs.

“... I love you too, Jiu-chan.”

It was a slower day, a lazy time as summer began to draw to a close and light rains began to fall across the streets before the harvests started, and few people were out on the streets, preferring to tuck themselves away and rest in the dying heat of summer. Keeping themselves occupied whatever way people in this era did without internet. Having grown and lived the first time around where the whole world was essentially at his fingertips, even eventually with its counterpart in Seireitei, the idea was faintly surreal to Ichigo. Still, raising his group of brats was plenty occupation enough – frankly, the slavers should be paying him, not the other way round.

Unfortunately, with the slower days there were less people to trick, steal and beg money from, and the slavers had recently upped their demands again, despite the larger group and the minimal drain on resources the cruel men were willing to use on their stock.

To this end, Ichigo and Xiao Jiu were branching out their territory, Xiao Jiu clinging tightly to one hand and a small bulb of half crushed onion in the other – despite having had roughly eight years and a return to childhood to practice, Ichigo still couldn’t cry on demand. Unlike Nine, who could cry at the drop of a hat and whom Ichigo was beginning to suspect was learning to weaponize it, because even after three years he was still weak to it.

“Do you think we should go right or left?” he asked him as they reached an intersection, pausing under an overhang to give their lightly sodden clothes a break. Ichigo was quite grateful for his old hood, threadbare as it was. Jiu scrubbed the little goosebumps on his arm as he pondered, a little frown on his face.

“Left?” he guessed, looking up at Ichigo, who shook his head.

“Left goes towards the fancier estates, don’t they? And they’re getting busier this time of year, as the lords and ladies prepare for the autumn season, and host guests and stuff, yeah?”

“Yeah... so we should go?”

“No, Xiao Jiu, because when there’s lots of nobles, what does that mean?”

Jiu frowned deeply again, staring out into the drizzle as he rubbed his thumb against the scars on Ichigo's hand. Ichigo patiently waited for the light bulb, and the kid didn’t disappoint.

“Guards!” he yanked on his hand. “Loads a' guards!”

“Well done!” Ichigo praised, pushing aside the old feeling of discomfort. “Where there's lots of nobles and their visitors, there’s lots of guards, and they don’t like us, so we have to avoid them. If we visit the richer areas when it's quieter, there’s much less guards to try and make us go away, so we might be able to get more money from passing travellers then, yeah?”

He'd never imagined one day he’d be facing it from this side. You don’t become a staple of society for three thousand years without earning some serious dough. Though he’d never seen any beggars outside his doors or even in the town proper – in his later years, poverty was all but eradicated. Not for the first time he wished he could just bundle up these kids and take them back to Seireitei.

Xiao Jiu mulled it over for a while, still rubbing Ichigo's hand, before giving a firm nod.

“So, what happens when we go right? What’s down there?” Ichigo prompted.

“Uh... river?”

“That's a bit further along, but yes. What do we pass through to get to the river?”

With his spare hand, Xiao Jiu traced an imaginary path with his finger. Ichigo couldn’t imagine where it led, watching it take corners and paths that certainly weren’t there in the original route.

“Clothes?” he guessed uncertainly, and it earned him a ruffle in his soaked bangs. “Qi-ge...”

“That's right! The clothing district! There’s lots of dye merchants and washerwomen and tailors there, and they’re all very easy to beg money from – there’s a lot of poor to working class women there, and they are often quite kind.”

Ichigo watched Xiao Jiu add that to his little world view for a moment.

“So... women people are kinder than the men people?”

Ah, best to nip any possible evolutions of that idea in the bud.

“As a general rule, men and women are very very similar, Xiao Jiu, you mustn't forget that. Anyone who tells you that they’re completely different are lying and mean, and you mustn't listen to their opinion. Especially if they start talking about what the other group is supposed to do.” A very oversimplified overview, but it would do for now.

He watched his eyes narrow again.

“So... men people aren't different to women people... but... not exactly?”

“Pretty much.”

“So...” The little cogs in his brother's head were working furiously. “So.. you have to be different with men and women? To get good food?”

Clever kid!

“That's exactly it, Xiao Jiu!” Ichigo ruffled his hair again, which he took with slightly more grace, pleased. In another world, he wouldn't have to be teaching something like that, but in this divided one it would go a long way to keeping the kid safe. “So, let's go right, and we'll see what we can get, yeah?”

“En.”

The rain didn't let up during their walk, so they were even more soaked by the time they reached the clothing district proper. The way was quieter than usual, the vendors and washing women and merchants hiding themselves and their wares from the constant drizzle. It was just warm enough that Ichigo wasn't too worried about Xiao Jiu catching something, thank goodness, but it did make the two orphans look even more pathetic than before.

There were already beggars on the streets, curled in doorways and under eaves, but they were all older than the pair, and gave no more trouble than watchful glares as they passed. Jiu pressed himself into Ichigo's side, lips thin, and Ichigo ran a hand down his bony shoulder.

They found a spot where the water didn't quite reach, and far enough from any windows, and tucked themselves in, Xiao Jiu curling up in his lap and reaching out with his hand of onion. Ichigo pushed it away.

“With the rain, it won't be as obvious,” he denied. “And we can just use the water from it too.”

“But you won't be all red and sniffly,” Xiao Jiu countered, shoving the vegetable further into his face. Ichigo leaned further back.

“Yes, but it won't make as much of a difference, will it? We only have limited uses of the juice.”

His nose wrinkled in haughty disagreement, but Xiao Jiu dropped back with a huff, digging his elbows in Ichigo's gut.

“If you're good, I'll let you have another nibble of it,” Ichigo bribed. And apparently that was good enough for him to be forgiven. He reached for a patch of gritty mud beside them, and swiped his hand over his and Xiao Jiu's faces in a practised motion. Mud always helped tug at heartstrings of the poorer people.

A few seconds later, Xiao Jiu started up a soft sniffle, low but just enough to reach the entirety of the quiet street. Ichigo's own heart clenched, as it always did, but he rubbed and kneaded at his eyes, forcing them to turn red and watery. The show must go on, and already there was an old woman in an enormous scarf glancing worriedly in their direction.

They kept at it until sundown, the skies never clearing, the hems and folds of their threadbare clothes slowly hiding copper coins.

Ichigo heaved a sigh as the shadows finally slipped over his foot, and the street emptied in the dusk.

“Time to go before the lamplighters come,” he decided, and unfolded his legs as Xiao Jiu scrambled up, groaning as they protested the movement. “You did really well today, kid.”

“I always did really well, Qi-ge!” he complained.

“Well, you do,” Ichigo told him, and levered himself to his feet, taking his wet and wrinkled hands to his faces, finally clearing off the mud that had been on for hours. Xiao Jiu squirmed, but Ichigo held him still. “There. Let's start heading back, hm? Get back under a roof and dry off.”

Xiao Jiu took his hand again as he led them out of their corner and onto the cobble

The air was quiet, sound muffled by the drizzle that had been falling all day, and even the animals were quiet, tucked up in their nests or burrows.

Too quiet.

“Qi-ge?”

“Nothing. Let's get back.”

An almighty roar erupted through the stillness.

Xiao Jiu plastered himself to Ichigo with a muffled scream, hiding his face in his hip. Ichigo clutched him with white knuckled fingers, every muscle tense and straining. They didn't move.

Silence fell again.

He felt like an exposed nerve, head twisting back and forth. Where was it? Where was it?

He peeled a very unwilling Xiao Jiu off him and dragged him back to their corner.

The peace of the evening was suddenly stifling.

“Qi-ge?” Ichigo didn't answer. “Qi-ge, what's going on?”

He shushed him, running a hand through his sopping hair.

“Qi-ge,” Xiao Jiu begged, clamped to his side.

“We've got to be quiet,” Ichigo breathed, where was it?

The smell of hollow was faint in the air, but he couldn't pin its presence down. If they ran now they had every chance of rushing right into it.

“Qi-ge...”

“It's bad monsters, Xiao Jiu, we have to be quiet.” He scrubbed the back of the child's head, a soothing motion just as much for him as Nine. “You can do that, yeah? Pretend it's the slavers back.”

A tiny sob hiccupped out of Xiao Jiu, but he pressed his mouth tightly into Ichigo's side and didn't make another sound. Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut again the surge of tears, and stared out into the street, pressing down on his reiatsu as much as he possibly could.

There was another heavy silence, and a flicker of something appeared above him. He lurched into the wall, Xiao Jiu crushed into his side with white knuckles. He cupped the back of his head, pressed his little face into the fabric, shoved down his own reiatsu until he nearly choked on its weight.

And in that state of stillness he found a trailing wisp.

Something cold, faintly green, soft with disuse.

Ice flooded his veins.

And there was-

Barely daring to breathe, he tipped his head back, slowly, slowly.

It was slung between the roofs, meaty yellow arms holding a great horned bulk aloft, staring.

His control snapped – burnt charcoal filling the wet air –

Xiao Jiu cried as he was harshly yanked, bare feet stubbing the slippery cobbles, Ichigo ran.

Behind them, the hollow bellowed its hunting cry. Jiu sobbed. Ichigo pressed on. There was – smoke drowning everything else out, he had to find – keep Xiao Jiu safe, hunter, hunter.

There!

A covered cart, half filled with crates. No one around. Ichigo threw them out with abandon, slapped its rim to help Xiao Jiu in, he could hear thudding – he dived in, tossed the cover back over.

It was dark and dry in there, though the wood was rough and unsanded. Their gasping was loud in the small space. The hollow was prowling past, behind his back, scenting the air throatily. Wood smoke filled the back of his throat, a heavy blanket across the senses. It wouldn't find Xiao Jiu under that.

Xiao Jiu was whimpering, a tiny fist pressed into his mouth, desperately trying to stopper any noises. His eyes were round and glassy with tears, and his chest was hitching and heaving.

Ichigo stared back, not daring to move, not to get any closer as his own wild reiatsu crushed at the flickering wisp. He couldn't risk pulling it back any further with the hollow snuffling up ahead. Any skin contact right now could be crippling.

He closed his eyes to curse the situation, and the hollow screeched in blind fury – good.

Xiao Jiu sank his teeth into his thumb, worrying the thin flesh. He didn't make a sound.

His reiatsu guttered like a candle in the wind.

He was shaking like a leaf, Ichigo saw. He felt like crying. He couldn't – he pulled the energy back in. Inch by inch, he couldn't let the hollow find them.

It screeched again.

Ichigo had heard that cry for thousands of years – it had found prey.

Biting his lip against the vitriol flooding his brain alongside the adrenaline, he scrambled from the cart, dodging Xiao Jiu's desperate lunge as much as he wanted to reach back. The hollow sighted him and screamed in triumph, that awful grating warble.

Ichigo didn't look back, though it ached at his heart.

He ran.

He could only beg Xiao Jiu knew not to move, because the monster followed him.

Alone, he could put on more speed, but his legs were only eight years old, he couldn't –

Eyes were on him and he nearly tripped. A homeless man, curled against the wall in the fading light, staring after the child running from nothing.

The hollow crashed into the sign above him, a loud screech of scales on metal. The man did not blink.

He couldn't – he needed to go farther, out of town, there were innocent people here he couldn't risk them –

He tripped over a curb. His elbows caught his fall and his momentum wrenched him sideways, frail body tumbling round like a leaf. He landed hard on the slick, unforgiving stone with a pained cry.

The hollow was on him in seconds, he scrambled away from a hoof that cracked the street, body aching. He scrambled frantically to his feet, breath coming in wet gasps, blinking the tears from his vision.

They were already on the edge of town, there was – bridge nearby. Farm. Empty space.

Hollow coming for him.

He knew the way. He ran, trailing charcoal and wood smoke.

People were staring. Which path, he couldn't hesitate for even a moment – left.

The hollow was slower than its hooves suggested, over-muscled and ungainly for it. It had more stamina than a starved, over worked child.

He saw the bridge through the mist off the river.

He was almost across it and a shadow covered the floor – he dived, and the beast crashed down millimetres from his burning legs. Run.

Farmland – muddy fields, no one in sight.

His lungs were heaving. Ichigo didn't slow despite it, but his feet dragged and caught in the thick mud, the ground clutching at his heels and stinging his scratches.

The hollow reared up behind him –

And Ichigo threw his spirit energy.

Three thousand years of fury and fire and devotion crashed into the earth, scalding heat and scouring light and smothering darkness all, an ascended being kicking down the doors of mortality to pierce the moon.

The hollow crumbled.

Ichigo came back to himself half buried in dirt, collapsed in an empty field pressed flat and solid to the treeline, and the trees beyond it blackened and torn. A perfect circle surrounded him, and he dug himself up with his fumes. Every cell in his body ached, physical as it was in front of his own divine energies. He didn't have this problem in his own body.

His old body.

Xiao Jiu...

He must have scared him so much. He had been terrified.

He trudged back to town, tiredly scraping the thick mud from his arms and legs. Tomorrow he would have to take them down to the river for a wash. Passing mortals threw disgusted glances as he passed, and ah. His hood had fallen down, the rain rinsing the worst of the dirt from it. He pulled it back up. It didn't help. There were bright red streaks trailing down the gritty brown on his legs. He sighed, long and stressed.

The cart was just where he had left it, and he knocked twice on the side before pulling it open.

Xiao Jiu was thin and shivering, his thumb red and raw with bite marks. He stared up at Ichigo with dripping eyes that had soaked into the wood under his head. Ichigo exhaustedly raised his arms, and he bolted into them with enough force to make him hiss in pain as his foot shifted. He curled up with his head in Ichigo's filthy shoulder, pressing into every bruise he had and making new ones.

Ichigo ran a mostly clean hand through his hair, prying a few splinters from it. He dropped his head onto the fluff, taking a single moment before he wearily started the trip back to the basement. If any of his coins were still on him he would be grateful, but Xiao Jiu carried some of them anyway.

“You've done so well,” he murmured into the small head. “We're safe now, it's gone. It's all over.”

The rigid tension drained from Nine then, and Ichigo grunted wearily as he took the extra weight.

“Qi-ge...”

Ichigo made a shushing noise, rubbing his cheek over the top because he was too tired to move his arms from where they were supporting him.

“It's alright now. We're safe. You can let it all out.”

Xiao Jiu cried all the way back home.

They were curled up again that night, the little one pressed into his shoulder and the blanket wrapped around them tight, when Ichigo spoke up in a whisper.

“Four?”

The older boy grunted quietly, careful not to disturb the light sleepers around them. Ichigo took a breath.

“Have – has anyone been seeing anything strange, recently?”

“Like wha'? Cus there's been some weirdos showing up in the market in –”

“Like, mirages. Heat waves or something, I don't know. Screeching.”

“Oh.” Four fell silent, staring up at the wooden ceiling. “Not that I've noticed. Wouldn't the kids come to you first for somethin' like that, Qi? You're good at that kinda stuff.”

“Thanks,” Ichigo huffed humourlessly. Six stirred, and they both hushed until he settled again.

“Is that what you saw, earlier? You and Jiu. Was it a monster?”

It was pitch black, but Ichigo shook his head anyway.

“It was nothing. Just some – it wasn't anything. You don't need to worry.”

“Xiao Qi, Jiu was crying.” Four's voice was flat. “He never cries unless he's on the job.”

“He's four years old,” Ichigo protested quietly.

“And he's a slave in training, same as the rest of us,” Four returned harshly. “He needs to learn how when to knock it off.”

“Four...”

“You're too soft, Qi.” He heard the rustle of blankets, and when Four next spoke, his voice was muffled. “You're going to get him killed.”

Ichigo felt the small body in his arms, curled up so trustingly with a knee strewn across his hip, head of black hair tucked under his chin.

He'd known that. Known since he convinced the slavers to take the child in, that he wouldn't be bringing him to a happy life. Knew the risks of letting a living thing stay so close to his great power – knew that there was every chance of Xiao Jiu one day growing his own spirit energy, and becoming hollow prey in the process. And if they didn't get him, the rough circumstances and treatment might instead, no matter what Ichigo did. He just didn't have any more to give.

But it was one thing to lie awake worrying about future possibilities, and another entirely to feel the tear tracks wiped across his arm, to hold a child who had bitten themselves red trying not to make a sound and being just as defenceless as them.

Starting tomorrow, he'd need to start teaching Xiao Jiu properly about the monsters that lurked in the dark, and how to stop them from hunting him.

Once again he'd dragged an innocent bystander into his messes.

“I know,” he said. “I know.”