Chapter Text
It isn’t often that Toshiro finds himself visiting the World of the Living of his own accord, but those occurrences have begun to increase since his former captain’s identity and location was revealed to the Seireitei. He couldn’t deny that Isshin’s sudden disappearance was somewhat difficult for the Tenth Division to deal with, including himself; insufferable as the man may have been at times, he’s always had a certain charm about him. Oddly enough, Isshin had somehow managed to become a father figure of sorts during their shared time in the office. Though Toshiro was the protégé of his class, people often forgot that beneath his work ethic, dismissive attitude and honed skill, he was still only a child, even if he would scowl at the admittance. The former noble had remained the only one to understand that kind of internal dynamic and conflict within himself, and while he may have brushed it off with annoyance at the time, he had grown to miss the lingering comfort from late night conversations on the rooftops, or moments of silence shared between a cup of tea and a sunset. Isshin never could steep it without it tasting burnt, but the effort was always appreciated.
As of late, that was his motivation for returning so frequently — or, as frequently as his abysmal pile of paperwork would allow. The desire to make up for lost time is mutual between them, which he’d been told on their first proper reunion, and age has made it easier to talk with Isshin properly. It’s never exactly important, what they speak of, but it fills a small hole in both of their lives to be able to exist in one another’s company and respect as they once had. Toshiro may not have a proper family, but beyond his lieutenant and Hinamori, his bond with the Shiba relative is just about as close as it could come.
Isshin likes talking about his children, and Toshiro learns much about them from his perspective. Karin is his little spitfire, never backing down from a challenge, and Yuzu reminds him greatly of his wife, gracing everyone with a smile and lighthearted presence. He never fails to give the acting captain updates on sports games won or successful dishes made. Yuzu’s taken an interest in art, and her father was proud enough of everything to plaster them on their fridge with outdated magnets. Apparently she finds it more than a little embarrassing, but Isshin knows it’s encouraging for her. Karin, on the other hand, has joined the volleyball team, and not a single practice meeting goes missed. While yet to be spoken in words, Toshiro can tell that the older man found purpose in being there for his family. He can’t relate personally, but the sincerity and joy of being in their lives is conveyed well enough through eager updates and detailed stories.
Toshiro is typically intrigued enough to inquire, sometimes, what Yuzu’s latest drawing was, or the score of Karin’s game, without needing to be told first.
There’s Ichigo, too, of course, who tends to take up a portion of nearly every conversation. On one hand, the ice user never misses an opportunity to learn something embarrassing about the substitute Shinigami, but most of the discussions are of his own telling. Isshin, having missed many battles that his son took part in, remains eager to hear what Toshiro could retell of certain stories, even if some were only second hand. Some come from the source itself, when the redhead deems it fit to join their conversations; he can be civil when he wants to be, Toshiro determines, though the recurring comments about his height having recently changed (for the better, he might add) are about as annoying as he’d expect from both parties.
A small part of the young captain looks forward to seeing the other Shinigami just as much as his father, thought he wouldn’t dare confess such a thing. When Isshin was running late, Ichigo was the one who found company in him, and he within the other. Bewildering to the version of himself from years ago, who thought little of a supposed ally beyond the need for an extra blade in battle, but he’s come a long way since then; to others, Toshiro likely seems the same, but there’s a sharpness to his former self that has since been sanded down into something more mellow... according to Matsumoto, at least, and her words didn’t appear to be of any insult. He sees it in fractions, the calmness that replaces what once would’ve been anger, the patience that blankets him as opposed to the heat of a tantrum. He sees things differently — Ichigo included. He’s not so bad, really, when he begins to open up about the way he thinks, or how he views the world. He’s surprisingly insightful when he so desires, possessing a strong mind and an even stronger resolve. It’s what has always made him a leader to others, a trait he undoubtedly gets from his father. In that sense, the two are identical, and he’d be a liar if he denied that it’s inspiring.
He’s learned that Ichigo, while he isn’t protecting the city from lingering threats, is pursuing a degree in psychology. Apparently medicine had never been up his alley, but he’s passionate about learning — surprising, for someone so painfully hardheaded, but it’s respectable that he wants to put passion to good use. Toshiro knows very little about the functions of the brain, but he’s obtained a fairly decent teacher, one could say. He’s unexpectedly easy to listen to, just as his father, because there’s passion behind what he says. Toshiro thinks people who speak from the heart will always be the most impactful in what they do, but he keeps this to himself.
Following one of their meetings, the distant thoughts scurrying around his mind as sleep slowly pulls him under piece together the realization that he’s become just as fond of Ichigo as he is Isshin, but that he sees the two very differently. Upon waking, he thankfully chooses not to read into whether or not their growing connection is why Isshin is beginning to show up less and less.
-
Today, Toshiro is early to the Kurosaki household. Yuzu and Karin are likely still involved in after school activities, and Isshin’s started picking up more hours at his clinic. As for Ichigo, there’s no initial sign of his presence as the captain enters through one of their windows, as was usual for him at this point. Someone had left a note on the counter — Yuzu, he suspects — about there being no plans for dinner, but the atmosphere surrounding him is stale. No one’s been around since morning. He’ll wait in Ichigo’s room, he supposes. Perhaps there’s an interesting novel or two on his shelf.
Upon sliding the door to the younger’s room open, he’s surprised to find the very person in question snoozing peacefully. His jacket’s been draped carelessly over his chair, and his backpack is sagging against the floor as though it had been dropped without a care in the world. Moreover, Ichigo’s still wearing his slacks and corresponding belt, and he’d failed to crawl under the covers before nodding off. Either way, he looks relatively comfortable, if not just a little cold.
With a soft sigh, Toshiro makes a careful effort as he pulls a blanket from the foot of the other’s bed to drape it over his figure. It’s unfortunately just enough to disturb him into making a noise of complaint, and he rolls sluggishly onto his back before squinting open an eye. He fails the first time, needing to lift a hand to rub the sleep from his eyelids before he’s able to see properly. Cute, the word rings in the ice user’s mind, before it’s quickly replaced with, don’t think about that right now.
“’Shiro,” Ichigo mumbles sleepily, arm proceeding to flop above his head and against his pillow. He’s still blinking rapidly, bothered by the light flooding in from the window.
“You would be correct. Do you feel better, Sleeping Beauty?”
Toshiro can’t be sure when, exactly, their relationship had become so casual. Time creates countless images, and they bleed together in his mind until he’s unable to recall when his final ‘it’s Hitsugaya-san’ was last, or when satire no longer felt so foreign leaving his own lips.
“Mmmn, not long enough.” It emits him as a grumble, and Toshiro watches as he rolls over until they’re properly facing one another. He’s aware that he may look a little silly, standing over Ichigo’s bed with a pair of chestnut eyes watching him. Whatever’s on the college student’s mind, he’s certainly unable to read it — and it’s beginning to feel a little awkward, with his own lack of response and an opposing silence creating a gap between them. Azure hues fall down to the young Kurosaki’s lips just as his ears tune back in from his thoughts to pick up a very blatant, “Goin’ back to sleep if you wanna join.”
Toshiro didn’t feel tired, but he’s more focused on the fact that Ichigo had just offered to sleep next to him. With him, if you will. A small, quiet voice in the back of his mind tells him that it’s that very same fondness that produces the small smile soon present on his lips, and keeps the embarrassment at such a proposal for another day.
“You do look cold,” he murmurs after a moment, earning a chuckle from the strawberry’s lips. A blink later and the blanket is being held open for him to slip beneath, so he does so with less grace than he would’ve had he not grown so tall. Ichigo isn’t wasting any time, it seems, because there’s a gentle but secure arm around his waist, and their proximity allows him to take note of a faint flush dusting the other’s cheeks. He fails to bite back a look of amusement, and the gentle chuckle that leaves him strengthens into a proper laugh as sharp features bury themselves in the groove of his neck. A cool limb is curled around his back to secure Ichigo there, much to the shock and relief of both of them, but he hears no gripe in response, likely the result of sleep still fogging his train of thought.
“...Didn’t really think this would work,” comes a faint mumble against his neck, drawing Toshiro from the daze he’d slipped into as fingertips began to draw soothing patterns against Ichigo’s back.
“What do you mean?”
“Y’know, askin’ you to get in bed with me. Figured you’d say no.”
“Ah... I had no desire to decline your request.”
“Oh.”
“Mmm. Quit thinking so much, and go back to sleep.”
“...Right.”
It’s stiff between them, both at a loss for a proper explanation of feelings, but nothing needs to be said. It’s enough of a step to be there, bodies pressed together for warmth and comfort as they are now, warm breaths tickling Toshiro’s neck and a sweet touch against Ichigo’s shirt lulling him back to sleep.
-
Isshin knew that his son would likely be asleep around this time, given the lack of response he’d received to the smell of dinner wafting through the house. He’s been learning more recipes now that Yuzu’s busy, and while they may not be the best, he’s trying, alright? It can’t be bad enough for Ichigo to lock himself in his room for the next ten hours, so he’s definitely asleep.
He keeps light on his toes as he creeps towards the rom in question, and gently begins to slide the door open — he wholeheartedly intends on slamming it open as yet another unavoidable jump scare, but a flash of the sleeping figures on Ichigo’s bed causes him to halt. A smile spreads over his lips at the sight of his two sons cuddling, of all things, much sooner than he’d originally anticipated. (Because, yes, he knew their getting together was only a matter of time, and yes, it was exactly why he’d been giving them space to bond. Ichigo needed it as much as Toshiro did, and neither of them would admit it, so he was forced to play the matchmaker with perfect success!)
“I knew it,” he announces smugly to himself, and chooses to give them space to be intimate for now. There was always time to tease them for it over dinner, after all.