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It’s hard to say whether Kisuke ever expected to see Ichigo-san again. Part of him longed to see the man. Far too many of his dreams have included bright orange hair and Ichigo-san’s low chuckle for him to be content with never seeing the not-Shiba again. The extra mysteries that the man seemed to be composed of were even more of a reason for Kisuke to want to see Ichigo-san. Still, he hadn’t expected to see Ichigo-san at the top of the hill they’d met on a few weeks prior. That feels like an oversight on his part. He’s not entirely sure where else he’d be more likely to find Ichigo-san again other than the place they first met. Still, that’s neither here nor there now.
Kisuke is silent as he approaches, but just like last time, Ichigo-san seems to sense him somehow. His lips are pulled into a slight smile as he looks up from the thick book in his lap.
“Kaede,” he greets.
“Ichigo-san. I didn’t expect to see you here again,” Kisuke says.
Ichigo-san raises an eyebrow. “Am I not allowed to be here?” he asks.
Heat rushes to Kisuke’s cheeks as he considers how his comment must have sounded. “That’s not what I meant. You’re allowed to be here of course. I didn’t mean to make it sound otherwise. I’m just… surprised.” Kisuke bites on his lip before he can continue to ramble and embarrasses himself further, even as he sees amusement dance in Ichigo’s eyes—something that shouldn’t be possible! It makes no scientific sense for someone’s eyes to dance like that. But Ichigo-san’s are.
“You’re too generous, shinigami-sama,” Ichigo-san says, and Kisuke fights the urge to pout at being teased.
Ichigo pats the ground next to him. “Come sit with me?” he offers.
Out of spite, Kisuke considers refusing. He entertains the idea of just turning around and shunpoing elsewhere for some more time alone. But he casts the idea way as soon as it occurs to him. Even if he hadn’t come here seeking Ichigo-san out, he’s happy to see him again. With a sigh, he allows himself to sit just a little further away than where Ichigo has patted the ground, determined to keep some extra distance between them.
Ichigo-san doesn’t comment on it.
“What brings you here today, Kaede?” Ichigo-san prompts, after they’ve sat in silence for a few minutes, nothing but the sound of leaves rustling and the occasional page being flipped.
Kisuke winces at the memory of Sarugaki-fukutaichou shouting at him for blowing up one of the labs and for not having his paperwork done and in general being useless. “I just wanted some time to breathe,” he says, instead of listing off everything that’s weighing on him.
“You’re a murderer. I’ll never respect you.”
There’s a dull thud as Ichigo-san flips his book shut, giving Kisuke his full attention. Just like last time, it feels almost like Ichigo-san can see right through his thoughts—as if he can tell what’s happened and what’s running through Kisuke’s mind. It’s impossible, but it doesn’t stop Kisuke from feeling off kilter from it.
“…Did my advice from last time help?” Ichigo-san asks. It’s not what Kisuke expects him to ask.
“I’m not sure,” Kisuke admits, thinking back on Sarugaki-fukutaichou. “My subordinates seem to be working at an adequate rate with minimal issues.”
Ichigo-san snorts. “That’s such a bullshit answer.”
Blinking, Kisuke tilts his head.
Shaking his head, Ichigo offers a wry half-smile. “You don’t need to treat me like some corporate report. I’m not going to tell anyone if you let out your frustration and anger at your subordinates or rant about their terrible habits or anything else. You don’t need to be so positive.”
“I’m not being overly positive,” Kisuke argues, frowning when Ichigo-san shakes his head.
“Kaede, if things were going that adequately, you wouldn’t be all the way out here looking lost and unsure again,” Ichigo-san points out, which is a fair point, but Kisuke bristles at the implication.
“I’m fine,” he says.
Sarugaki-fukutaichou’s words echo in his mind. “Can’t you do anything without my help?” He can. He’s capable of doing this. Yoruichi-san recommended him for this position and he’s going to prove that he can do this.
There’s concern in Ichigo-san’s eyes now, and Kisuke turns away to watch the horizon instead, unable to meet those eyes.
“Okay,” Ichigo-san says finally. Somehow, his acceptance makes Kisuke feel worse. Still, he doesn’t take back his words. He barely knows Ichigo-san. This might even be the last time they speak. There’s no reason for him to apologise for setting a boundary.
It’s awkward between them as they sit in silence. The ease of every other moment they’ve shared is gone and Kisuke fights back the hatred welling towards himself for causing this.
“You know, I once had a friend who used to say that all the time too,” Ichigo-san says, breaking the silence.
Kisuke makes a noise of confusion.
“He used to always say that he was fine. Wouldn’t accept any help. Wouldn’t talk to anyone about things before they blew up in his face. Wouldn’t trust anyone."
Turning to look over at Ichigo-san, Kisuke is surprised to see the other man is standing up. Orange hair covers his eyes, but Kisuke doesn’t need to see the brown orbs to see the sadness in them. He can feel it in Ichigo’s voice.
“I’m just a stranger, Kaede,” Ichigo-san continues, and for the first time since he gave it, Kisuke’s false name rings hollow, as if Ichigo-san doesn’t believe it any more than Kisuke believes this man isn’t a Shiba. It hurts more than it has any right to.
“But,” Ichigo-san continues, “even if I am just a stranger, I hope you won’t be like him. That friend of yours who got you this promotion, or even another person you can trust—I hope you’ll speak to them. Rely on them. For your own sake as much as the people around you.”
Ichigo-san doesn’t disappear in the blink of an eye this time. But he doesn’t offer anything more than a slight wave as he begins to descend the hill. It’s not hard for Kisuke to spot the slight tremor in Ichigo-san’s hand.
Everything about this moment feels wrong. Something screams in Kisuke to stop him, to prevent him from walking away. As if allowing Ichigo-san to walk away now will mean never seeing the man ever again. There’s no logic in it. Still, the panic sets in and Kisuke is calling out before he can really think of what to say. “Wait.”
To Kisuke’s surprise, Ichigo-san pauses. He doesn’t turn around, but Kisuke gets the distinct impression he’s listening.
“What happened to your friend?” Kisuke asks.
It’s silent for a moment and he almost thinks Ichigo-san won’t answer him. It would make sense. This is crossing the lines of what is acceptable to ask someone you’ve just called a stranger. Still, there’s a desperate clawing in him and Kisuke needs to know.
“He died,” Ichigo-san says, finally.
Ichigo-san’s answer isn’t really a surprise, but Kisuke isn’t sure how to respond to that. Should he apologise? And should his apology be for prying or for Ichigo-san’s loss? Both? He’s not used to this sort of thing.
Kisuke feels Ichigo-san’s eyes on him, and he meets them. There’s something indescribable in those eyes and it feels like Kisuke’s drowning in the multitude of emotions in those eyes. He can almost feel Ichigo-san begging him to not be like whoever this friend was even when the man refuses to say as much. Probably feels like it’s not his place to say anything, after Kisuke’s blow up from earlier.
“I won’t be like your friend,” Kisuke promises.
He can barely hear the chuckle from Ichigo-san but the sardonic edge to it sends a chill down his spine.
“I hope not,” Ichigo-san whispers, and then he’s gone, leaving Kisuke staring into blank air.
Turning to look up at the red maple tree, it almost feels like it’s disapproving of him, even though there’s no way for a tree to judge someone. Even still, Kisuke sighs. Perhaps Ukitake-taichou would be willing to lend him an ear.
Kisuke sighs again. There’s only one way to know for sure.
He vanishes towards Seireitei in a moment. In the back of his mind, he hopes that this will be enough for Ichigo-san to be willing to see him again.