Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Double the giggles and double the grins, and double the trouble if you’re blessed with twins.

That rhyme bounces around in Masaki Kurosaki’s mind like a promise the very second the ultrasound detects a second heartbeat. 

Six months later, there she is; a new mother with two children swaddled against her chest. Two healthy baby boys. Her twins. She loved them with all her heart before they were born. Now she cradles these beautiful fragile treasures in her arms, they hold her heart in their tiny hands. 

Instantly they become the centre of her universe. Two incredible beacons of light shining in the darkness, like her personal sun and moon. 

They're so astoundingly similar with those identical cherubic faces, minus the tiny tuffs of hair. Masaki wonders if they'll remain that way. Or will they grow different, in appearance and personality? She sets those dower thoughts aside for later, lest they ruin the moment.

Masaki names her firstborn Ichigo, crowned with a gorgeous strawberry blond fuzz and brilliant amber eyes exactly like his mother. A darling little protector. And her precious strawberry is already fast asleep, clutching the Quincy cross around her wrist.

The second child, unlike his big brother, has strong lungs and loud opinions from the very first. Born exactly four minutes after Ichigo, wailing like he’d lost the race of a lifetime, he wears a raven scruff and his father’s nose, adorably scrunched up as he announces his displeasure. 

Isshin names him Kaien.

After a late nephew, Isshin explains reluctantly, as if the name were a product of whim he already wishes to recant. 

He offers a rare morsel of his past then. Explaining the name belonged to an elder brother’s son. A promising young soul by shinigami standards whose life was cut tragically short before his prime. Written with the kanji of sea swallow, it's a beautiful name and a beautiful way to honour a fallen loved one. With the way Kaien flails his arms about? Masaki has no doubt he’ll tear up a storm with those little wings.

(A rare cynical voice in the back of her mind wonders if it's cruel to saddle her second child with yet another legacy when the bitter feud between their bloodlines is burden enough.)

Unfortunately, there are times when that same rhyme twists into a bittersweet foreboding promise.

As it did when the bliss of new motherhood fades and the cold harsh reality sets in.

Masaki’s heart sinks like a stone when she finally senses the sheer amount of reiyoku sleeping within her newborns. A titanic power, stunning and terrifying in equal measure, of a magnitude that individually outstrips herself, their father and even that shopkeeper Kisuke Urahara combined.

When they pay a visit to that quaint back alley candy shop two weeks following Masaki's discharge from the hospital, that same fear becomes a blaring klaxion. Ostensibly they visit Urahara to introduce him to the newest additions to their small family. But it all strike a chord with Masaki. Every fiber in her being tells her there's foulness afoot. Exacerbated by glimpses of Isshin’s quiet contemplation and Urahara’s unreadable calculation. For that all that omnipresent genial demeanor, Masaki detects the subtle eager gleam in his eye.

As for Isshin? Well. For a man whose entire repertoire consists of loud proclamations of love and affection, frequently obnoxious bluster and comically inept but oddly charming attempts to function as an ordinary human being, he is an exceptionally private individual. Adept at concealing his true thoughts behind that goofball’s facade, though nowhere near to the degree as enigmatic Kisuke Urahara. 

Boiling it down, Masaki is mildly perturbed to realize that Isshin probably knows enough about her to fill entire volumes, yet she knows barely enough about him to fill in a pamphlet. He's kept things carefully concealed from her. Even his reasons for remaining in the human world rang a false note. 

Isshin sacrificed his powers to preserve her life, that much is true. And Masaki will forever be grateful for that, but that doesn’t change the fact that Isshin wasn’t any front line officer - he was a Captain. As was Urahara in ages past, which Masaki discovers in snatches of conversation she probably isn’t meant to overhear.

Whether it be enforced retirement or exile, Captains are ultimately dangerous individuals. 

Perhaps that’s why it's too easy to conclude the worst whenever she’s left to take care of the twins alone. 

With a subtle look here or an odd turn of phrase there, it's not difficult to believe Isshin and Urahara conspire together about her sons’ futures. To conceive these dangerous men are concocting equally dangerous schemes for her twin sons; hybrids born with the blood of the living and the dead, of a king and usurpers. As a unique synthesis of Shinigami, Quincy and, cursed them, Hollow too, that kind of power would shatter worlds.

Either way, her suspicions grow. 

(Sometimes, at her darkest moments, which she only half-convinces herself are hormones being out of whack from either pregnancy or postpartum depression, Masaki thinks they don’t see them as babies at all. They see weapons. Potential tools and assets to further their agendas).

And Masaki feels a dreadful weight when her fears are all but confirmed when the twins hit two months old.

Isshin returns from a midnight walk, a vain attempt to soothe Kaien through a colic episode while Ichigo mewls quietly in their crib, wearing another inscrutable expression. Whilst settling their second son for sleep, he casually suggests (orders ) that he’d prefer the boys to be raised as humans. As far away from the Shinigami and Quincy mess as possible, as he puts it.

And… 

If they only had one child to worry about, Masaki might’ve even been persuaded to play along. For a short while.

One could argue about preserving their innocence. Their sons should be allowed to be boys. Should enjoy life completely untroubled by the burdens of their lineage before the crushing weight of expectations shatters that innocence forever.

A point Masaki is not unsympathetic towards. She herself is no stranger to being raised for a purpose, or being indicted into other families to serve their purposes. After her tyrannical parents died, the Ishida family took her explicitly to use her as a brood mare, married to their eldest son to 'maintain' their blood purity. Quincy traditions are... summarily put, messed up. 

However, Masaki is no fool. She might be young but she knows the utility of ignorance. It’s a means to protect but also a method of manipulation. In her mind, she already sees the Sword of Damocles looming over her babies’ heads. Ready to plunge down at the precise moment to push the boys in whatever direction Urahara and Isshin need to advance their grand unknown plan. 

Its easy to imagine how that calamity would play out. After being thrust into an unknown, unfamiliar world - or thrown headlong into it, cruelly deprived of knowledge that’s both birthright and requirement for survival - they could be easily maneuvered into less-than-favourable situations or forced down dangerous paths. The kind which would make them desperate enough for any form of assistance to escape. The exact same kind conniving malcontents would gleefully exploit, to exert their insipid influence over her babies for their own twisted ends, with no heed to the cost.

The notion revolts Masaki to her core.

And as soon as that thought cements in her head, it's hard to look at Isshin the same way again. Hard to put on a smile the way he acts like a complete buffoon with those overly dramatic displays of affection towards her, like he isn’t conspiring to throw their sons - her babies - into the jaws of hell.

She will not accept their schemes quietly. 

Masaki will never allow her children to be used like that, not as the Ishida family intended to use her. 

Unfortunately, she’s well aware of her limitations. And the problem is as strong as Masaki is, she is only one person. Confronting Isshin and Urahara outright about their intentions is frankly suicide. Another unfortunate truth is there will be times the boys will be separated by necessity, for school or childhood appointments, and well beyond her protective gaze. Masaki can’t be in two places at once to guard them. 

So with her resolve set in calculated defiance of her husband and one-time saviour, Masaki nods in agreement, smiling to cover her lie.

Her little sun and moon make friends before they can form coherent sentences.

It’s glaringly obvious by the time they’re a year old that Ichigo and Kaien can see spirits. They babble and wave and point at empty air and the ordinary human would dismiss it as typical baby play. Masaki knows better. Can see better. Even the most stubborn and recalcitrant of the dearly departed wave and coo right back at the adorable toddlers, when they finally realise the boys are addressing them.

Of course, Masaki isn't surprised. With their sheer power, how could they not? 

Perhaps naively, she believes this fact might've been enough to change her husband’s mind about how they raised the twins. She subtly broaches the subject on numerous occasions. Offers gentle suggestions about teaching low level techniques, basic skills that can be disguised as average childhood learning games or rudimentary meditation hidden in nap time. If nothing else to help them get a grip on their reiryoku. Very minor things the twins would dismiss as boyhood focusing techniques as they got older.

Its basic safety, thus a prudent course of action. One which ensures Ichigo and Kaien would avoid drawing unnecessary otherworldly dangers they weren’t prepared to face quite yet. 

Masaki offers what she thought were persuasive arguments and pleaded her case; pointing out the fact only one person in their family unit had powers to defend the rest; that Karakura town is a den of hollows on a good day; that Shinigami would likely be patrolling the area and learning to avoid active skirmishes could only be a good thing. They didn't have to tell the children the whole story, Masaki insists, not immediately. Simply explain that seeing spirits was part of a natural part of their lives, it's a mark of their family and something to take pride in. 

Masaki does has her own private hopes, but she keeps those quietly to herself. She would never enforce her family's borderline fanatical pureblood obsession onto the boys (though she takes pride their very existence spits on it), but Masaki does wants her children to know where they came from. To learn from their histories and, much more importantly, learn from the mistakes of their forebears. To rise above the past and grow into better men. It can be argued that by virtue of their existence, Ichigo and Kaien represent a kind of hope for a brighter future. Living breathing proof Quincy and Shinigami could cast aside aeons old enmities and overcome bitter hatreds. They could work together, live together, start families together.

(In a very literal sense, they’re their existence to achieves everything Uncle Souken ever dreamed of for the Shinigami and Quincy.)

For one dizzyingly hopeful moment, Masaki thinks her impassioned plea might’ve swayed Isshin's stance. She could practically hear the gears turning in his brain. But, despite the flagrant dangers and making a compelling argument, Masaki is equally unsurprised and disappointed when Isshin doubles down. The man is nothing if not bull-headed. When his mind is set, he is utterly inflexible, categorically refusing to consider alternatives. Its one of his... less attractive attributes.

No supernatural business. Ichigo and Kaien didn’t need to know their history, they didn’t need to know the potential they wielded. They would have a clean slate. And Isshin walks away from that conversation as if there’s nothing left to say.

If you didn’t want them to be what they are, why did you bother having them in the first place? A resentful thought crosses Masaki’s mind before she could quash it.

They’re fraternal twins. That’s a fact.

But there a times where Masaki marvels at how physically similar Ichigo and Kaien are. If she didn’t know better, she would swear they were identical all along and someone’s been sneaking into their nursery to dye Kaien’s hair or bleach Ichigo’s when she’s not looking. 

Bright side, it makes distinguishing between them easy. Their father’s genes run quite strong, it seems. Although there are times when he thinks he's alone that Isshin stares at them - stares at Kaien, specifically - with haunted eyes, like he’s seeing a ghost come to life.

Another thing she discovers three years in, these boys have exactly two settings: “Go, go, go” and “sleep.”

A couple weeks after their third birthday is when Masaki begins whispering her secrets about their history and legacy. But the aforementioned two settings makes the task particularly challenging to start.

In the middle of that night, Ichigo and Kaien are stubborn about their bedtime (among other things, stubbornness is a trait they’ve inherited and magnified into an artform). Scurrying around their bedroom with inexhaustible energy, fliting between one imagined game to the next, Masaki prays they somehow tire themselves out. 

Despite her considered experience, Masaki has to concede they’re quite the mischievous handful.

Thankfully, she manages to wrangle the twins onto Ichigo’s bed with a few choice words. Unfortunately, they won't pay her any mind. They choose to crawl around Ichigo's mattress, continuing their game of tag and clinging to mummy’s arms loudly proclaiming her as ‘safe’. Giggles bubble up in her throat when they start bickering about it. Before it could devolve into a full-on crying argument, Masaki manages to snatch their full attention with promises of a secret. But only if they settle down.

The boys fidget and fuss but ultimately comply, eager to hear what their beloved mother has to share. 

They watch as she tender cradles their hands in hers. Innocent blue and amber eyes shine bright and wide with awe and wonder, mesmerized by the sparkling blue lights dancing in simple patterns in mummy’s palms. She tells them they have this power too, that she'll teach them about when they wake up in the morning. 

But they must keep it a secret from Daddy. 

After that demonstration, and solemn (positively adorable) promises from her boys, Masaki chooses to spend the rest of the night in their room. 

Isshin sleeps like the dead so her absence isn’t exactly missed. And with him leaving for a three-day medical conference early tomorrow morning it's unlikely he’ll be awake before then anyhow.

It’s a tight squeeze, but they manage on one bed. Masaki plants herself in the middle while the twins cuddle up to her, one on side each, eagerly babbling away until they settle for sleep while she hums a lullaby.

After Isshin is gone, Masaki introduces the twins to the basic concepts, delivering a much simplified lecture on the subject, dumbing things down to a level they could understand over breakfast. There are good spirits. Friendly (mostly) ghosts who await their eternal rest. And the bad spirits that must be avoided at any costs. At least until the boys are big enough to protect each other and themselves. 

“The goodies and the big meanies.” Ichigo adorably coins them. 

Masaki promises to teach them how to distinguish between the two. Then after breakfast is cleared away, she slowly tutors them through the fundamentals; how to gather and mould reishi. 

Stories continue as they grow older, delivered in snatches of privacy away from their father.

As they grow, the more they can understand. Masaki strives to leave nothing out. She tells them the best and the worst of their history. So much as they would tolerate. They understand their inheritance is birthright, pride, tragedy and burden wrapped in one. Though none of that grimness dulls their eagerness to learn, nor those identical delighted grins that beam up at her after mastering yet another technique in record time. 

They learn at their own paces, of course. 

Ichigo demonstrates greater aptitude for gathering pure reishi from the surrounding environs, whereas Kaien leans towards instinctively drawing upon his innate reiryoku. Not a bad habit per se, it’s simply not how a Quincy typically operates. Masaki helps him practice the steps once more, guiding him through the fundamentals skill. It takes an hour of careful explaining before he’s got the gist.

On the flip side, Kaien’s far more naturally gifted in his control and adept at shaping the reishi he commands. Ichigo can gather an abundance of energy until the cows come home but his initial constructs are sloppily made, even for a child. Kaien’s are pristine and, dare Masaki say it, perfect. Solid and unyielding, like he’d been born knowing how to manipulate spirit particles at their most fundamental level.

Fortunately, neither child allows those road bumps to discourage them. 

When one struggles, the other eggs him on in a bout of playful teasing and spirited competition. When they both fall short, Masaki tutors where she can. 

Challenges aside, their talent for the spirit arts is prodigal. It's frightening, borderline terrifying at times. Between reishi training disguised as games, construct creation, histories hidden in nursery rhymes and bedtime stories, the twins soak up everything she has to teach like a sponge. 

Their appetite is positively ravenous and as she continues their clandestine studies, Masaki tries to ignore the growing weight of guilt gnawing her insides as she moves onto the next lesson.

Present Day

A routine mission. 

That's what Rukia Kuchiki’s orders say. That's what Kiyone and Sentaro promise as they jointly briefed her on the details. Following up with a rather heavy-handedly insistence this isn’t a transfer or demerit on Rukia’s record, simply a temporary posting.

The duration is one standard month. Rukia’s task is to patrol a region called Karakura Town with her jurisdiction covering four square kilometers. If all goes according to plan, she will rendezvous with their contact in the world of the living named Urahara (an individual the rumour mill had pegged as a seedy reprobate), set up a base camp and operate from there.

Hardly the most complex thing ever.

Captain Ukitake himself sees her off personally. And, as it happens, the assignment was his proposal. He reassures Rukia that he has every confidence in her abilities and reminds her a bit of field experience looks good on her combat record. Especially with an opportunity for promotion to a seated role is on the horizon. 

Of course, Rukia is honoured that Captain Ukitake would take the time for her, and equally grateful for his faith in her capabilities. 

Though most people would be thrilled to have their first assignment, Rukia is anything but to be perfectly frank. 

In terms of difficulty, it's a task usually reserved for low-ranked shinigami. The kind who barely warrant a second glance in the corridor. Rukia knows how to conduct herself on the battle field, so theoretically speaking the mission should be a breeze. But there's an edginess pawing at the edge of her thoughts she can't quite shake, culminating in an unease weight that gathers in her stomach.

Though Rukia is composed enough to let none of her agitation show outwardly. Years of regimented drill from her training and adopted nobility have long since taught her to hide her personal reservations behind a collected front. Moreover, Shinigami are not creatures of whim. This an order and Rukia will obey, as a good soldier and Kuchiki should. A mantra she repeats over in her mind while a fluttering black jigokucho guides her through the senkaimon. 

Karakura town is... well, like any other in the human world, Rukia expects.

Rukia hasn't heard much about the human world beyond idle gossip in the Seireitei. Those who return from extended patrol duty often give contradictory accounts of the place. Every decade or so - no, closer to every five years, they return home jabbering about a new development or trivia in the human world that completely overshadows or contradicts previous ones. 

Naturally, those conflicting accounts make it difficult to paint a coherent picture of what the human world was actually like. And Rukia did her level best to downplay her expectations, but if she were to sum up her initial impressions in one word, it would be 'different'. 

Not better or worse. Just extraordinarily different. 

Illuminated by a mid-morning sun, this strange backwater town is thrown into sharp relief. Everything from the infrastructure, to the roads, the clothes and the people, the reishi density in the air - even the smell, reinforces the fact Rukia has truly stepped into a foreign world, in its strange and disorientating splendour. 

Indulging in spectacle will have to wait, however.

Barely a half hour into her assignment, Rukia's denrenshinki chirps insistently in her robes, signalling the materialisation of a nearby Hollow. Rukia examines the details and predicted time of emergence and glides through the air in that direction. She arrives at the designated point with under a minute to spare, ambushes and purifies the hollow as it manifests from the netherworld, performs last rites and konsou on the innocent soul nearby and submits her report. The orders are closed. 

Just like that, Rukia slips into that pattern. 

Every day or two, a hollow would emerge. She would purify it, perform last rites on the lost soul it targeted, rinse and repeat. It's a mind-numbing cycle and Rukia embraces the monotony. She allows her mind to drift into nothingness, performing her duties as evenhandedly and dispassionately as possible. As a good shinigami should.

A week into her assignment, she should've known she'd had it too easy.

While patrolling the area, leaping from rooftop to telephone pole, with a weather eye glued to the horizon and awaiting her denrenshinki’s insistent trill of fresh orders, Rukia finds a young departed soul by a local pool. Quite the busy one in fact.

It's a collection of laned pools, circled by stands for crowds to sit and hooded benches to either end for the swimmers. Currently, its playing host to a competition. Spectators fill the stands, shouting support for their preferred teams while teenagers dressed in swimming attire, which Rukia presumes are the competitors, eagerly adding their own voices to the chorus. 

That's one form of entertainment, Rukia supposes. The next race is set to start with eight competitors standing on the raised podiums at one end. When the announcer fires a starter gun, they spear into the water to even louder adulation. 

The child soul is among them. He's a boy,  roughly eight or nine years old, wearing what appears to be a swimming costume. No great mystery how the poor boy passed then. 

Regrettable but no sense allowing him to haunt this place waiting to become a snack for the next hollow to swoop by. Rukia makes her way over to where the boy has his face pressed against the chain link fence, spectating intensely and bouncing with barely restrained excitement. Rukia schools her expression into polite blankness when she accosts the child softly, whose responds with irritation. 

Rukia sticks to her script and introduces herself, promises to usher him to a peaceful hereafter and even had her hand wrapped around Sode no Shirayuki's hilt, preparing to draw her and administer the konsou. But, to no one's surprise, the boy initially resists.  Souls tend to linger on because they can't shake their regrets. Even children as young as this would have their share. 

Rukia persists. She tells him the next world is a peaceful place, one where he may rest eternally. Unfortunately her attempts to coax his compliance are met with more resistance. She's pondering whether or not to simply force the matter, cruel as that sounds, until the the boy clarifies why he's refusing.

Surprisingly enough, its not out of hesitation, fear of the unknown, lingering attachments or any combination of the three, like Rukia initially assumed. Its simply that there's someone he wishes to bid farewell to first. 

That puzzles Rukia greatly. When she’s about to speak again, he clasps his hands together, eyes shining with hope.

“Pretty please, miss?” The young boy pleads so sweetly, “He’s really nice! He plays with me when everyone else ignores me. I’ll go to the other side. I promise. I just wanna say goodbye to my friend first. He’ll get real worry if he can’t find me anymore. I don't want him to think something bad happened.”

That catches her attention. A human who can see spirits? How bizarre.

Rukia frowns to herself. 

When she looks back at soul’s pleading eyes, Rukia feels her heart wavering for a couple seconds. 

For those seconds, her mind throws back to many decades past where she was swept up and adopted by the Kuchiki family. Separated from Renji, the only family she knew until then, without being able to offer a farewell of her own? The loneliness and isolation leaves a mark.

Pulling her focus back to the present, Rukia relents. She won’t deny the boy an opportunity to say goodbye to his only friend. Precious few ever receive that privilege. With a slight smile and a gentle nod, Rukia accepts his request.

“Very well. We may linger for a moment, but just a moment. Long enough to say your farewells.”

The boy beams and bounces on his toes. “For real?! Thanks Miss! I’ll be super quick, I promise! He just finished his race. See? He’s right there!” 

The boy spins back to the race that just concluded, pointing at the teenager who’d just pulled himself out of the pool to the  thunderous applause of spectators. From the almighty ruckus they're causing, and the way other swimmers either clap him on the back or give him sour looks, its obvious he's the victor. Drenched from head to toe and staggering back towards an undercover bleacher near their spot, he’s bombarded by claps on the back, cheering and whoops from his teammates and coach.

Idly Rukia finds her attention drawn to a distinct mark running down the length of his sternum. A long pale line, pearly against his tanned skin. A surgical scar it seems, she wonders what happened to cause such an injury then dismisses it. Its not like she needs to know anyhow. 

Chest heaving, Rukia watches as the teenager all but collapses on a bench with his back towards them, yanking off the sky blue rubber cap and goggles revealing his spiky black hair, lazily shrugging on a button-up shirt and draping a towel over his shoulders, greedily gulping down a water bottle the coach proffers. Even from here, she can hear the words of congratulations from his friends. 

A moment later, the teenager’s teammates and coach leave him in peace, gathering at the pool edge, eagerly anticipating the next race.

Once again, Rukia finds herself lapsing into bittersweet reminiscence. Moments of revelry from ages past come to the forefront of her mind. Ancient days, it feels like. Instead of a swimming pool, her mind’s eye sees the Thirteenth Division’s outdoor training grounds. Instead of teenagers and teachers, she can see her squadmates gathered around for another gruelling yet enthusiastic training session with their beloved Lieutenant Shiba. Oh how he’d goad them on with a mix of well-meaning ribbing and encouragement.

Back when the barracks held a cheer, merriment and warmth - like the sun itself walked among them. There remains a fierce camaraderie and devotion to each other like family, but an ephemeral irreplaceable essence has been lost since those days. Since a heart and soul was tragically torn out that night forty years ago. A heart she murdered.

It's a herculean effort of will for Rukia to pull herself back to the present and quiet the sudden turmoil in her soul. She takes a shuddering breath to steady herself and buries those feelings once more, sealing them back inside the past where they belong. She doesn’t need those emotions interfering with her work. They’re unnecessary. Distractions. 

Rukia chides herself for her lack of control and wonders what on earth’s gotten into her lately?

She watches as the young soul sprints a few metres away, effortlessly slipping through a gate in the chain link fence and climbing onto the bench. He's throwing his arms up wildly and exclaiming happily as he accosts the teenager.

The exchange is brief, as the boy promised. 

Rukia feels her lips turn up in a slight smile when the teenager ruffles the boy’s hair. But when the soul points at her and the teenager follows his directions –

Rukia’s blood turns to ice and she catches a breath.

Before her is a ghost from a blood past. Dark spiky hair, lean frame and bright blue eyes. Her mind superimposes a much taller man, older and more experienced, wearing a black shihakushou and the Thirteenth Division's badge around his left sleeve. Face split with a proud beaming grin.

One blink later, its a mutated vestige of inhuman horror and cruel savagery, humanity torn out until monstrosity and malice was all that remained. Flesh transmuted into a diseased blue-green, black lifeless eyes radiating cruelty and orange ichor staining his cheeks. Another blink, Rukia sees rain soaked skin, pale with death, lifeless green eyes staring off into a realm only the dead can see, and blood flowing from the stab wound in his chest.

Rukia blinks the illusion of horror away and it’s replaced by the exhausted teenager wearing that agonisingly familiar face, who stares right back at her, head tilted to one side as though determining what to make of her. (She ignores the lance in her heart when she sees no recognition in those bright blue not green eyes.)

After a half-minute, the teenager wearing her deceased mentor’s face decides to offer a hauntingly familiar grin and wave. 

Rukia loses. Disappears runs away in a flight of shunpo. 

She runs, bile rising in her throat.

Totally shameless. Rukia's sure she'll chastise herself later when she regains a measure of wits.

Abandoning her duty due to a wildly uncalled for panic attack? What a ridiculous notion. All because she happened upon a boy who shared traits of a man she murdered forty years earlier?

Its not as though he's a reincarnation or anything like that. There's hundreds of millions, no, billions of souls in the worlds - more than that. A truly incalculable number.

And here she was, arrogant enough to presume, even for a split second, that she'd stubbled upon someone she'd known in their prior life? One that happens to have a sufficient amount of reiyoku to see her? No. That's ridiculous.

The more obvious answer is he had similar features by a sheer coincidence. That's all. There's no need to read portents into flukes and random dumb luck. 

Of course, now Rukia feels guilty for that young soul and decides she'll return later, apologise sincerely and perform the konsou properly with due reverence.

As for the lookalike? Well, give it a few days and he might put this whole encounter out of his mind. Or, worse came to worst, if his curiosity gets the better of him, Rukia can always use the memory replacement device. She’ll have to adjust it for someone for higher than average reiyoku but it should work. 

Mercifully, by the time Rukia's manic thoughts calm down and she manages to compose herself, her denrenshinki trills with a new set of orders. A hollow is set to attack the town centre.

Having regained her earlier poise, Rukia sets about her next task.

Chapter Text

As it turns out, Ichigo can purify hollows.

Isn't that a neat trick?

They discover that ability largely by accident when he's six. 

Isshin's busy with the girls' paediatric check-up. Said something about taking them to a water park that afternoon for some 'Daddy-Daughter bonding time'. Similiarly Masaki corrals the elder twins for a trip of their own, intending to test what they had learned under her guidance.

While they walk through town, each son holding one of Masaki's hands, they ask her why they hide their training from their father. A curiosity driven by boredom more than interest. Isshin was, or once served as, a shinigami. It's not like they have to waste time explaining the concept of spirits to him when he was formerly one of their wardens. (Despite the fact he pretends they aren't there.) 

Masaki's pensive silence puzzles them and she remains that way for agonisingly long minutes. Ichigo almost feels compelled to apologise for asking in the first place before she responds cryptically, "Your father and I disagree on many things, little moon. But that's a problem for adults to worry about, all right?"

"But we're as much Shinigami as we are Quincy. Wouldn't he wanna teach us too?" Kaien questions petulantly. 

"You would think, little sun." Masaki signed under her breath, then put on a smile and abruptly changed the subject.

Masaki leads them to the town's outskirts, far far away from scrutinising eyes. There they find and corner a weak hollow digging around for scraps.

Ichigo feels apprehension, standing before a viciously angry hungry Hollow three times his size with nothing more than a conjured pair of reishi daggers in his hands. Kaien is at his side, clutching a thin featureless reishi spear as long as he was tall. To their mother's amused chagrin, neither of them particularly cared for bows.

They weren't afraid. Tense, maybe. Skittish and uneasy, perhaps. But not afraid. Not with Masaki watching over them.

Drawing courage from her strength, they remind themselves to remain calm and focused, to remember her teachings. They employ every skill she painstakingly taught; to read the Hollow's moves through the flow of its reiryoku, regulating their own to strengthen themselves. To avoid and dodge and evade until they found an opportunity to go on the offensive.

Despite an admitted lack of confidence and practical experience, the whole thing is over dizzyingly fast. 

Stupefaction roots Ichigo in place after he plunged those twin reishi daggers into the thing's skull mask. Its strange to see the hollow lose form like that. Their mother taught them that Hollows would dissolve into black-ish reishi mush before fizzingly out like a candle. But this hollow did something different. Strange and unsettling. Its body dissolves into ethereal motes of shimmering white. And like a veil has been torn away, a much more reasonable human-shape remains in its place for a half-second before its, her, fuzzy edges dissipate, transforming into a white and blue butterfly that flutters into the sky.

Ichigo is confused. That wasn't supposed to happen. At least not according to what their mother told them. Perhaps he's too young to realise the implications - the magnitude of what he'd done. Or perhaps it simply doesn't dawn on him until much later. The shock and confusion are swept aside in favour of celebrating his success. Kaien wraps him in a strangling hug, a gesture Ichigo returns instantly while they share joyous laughter. 

If the twins weren't so distracted babbling away and eagerly recounting their own victory, they might've noticed the emotions flashing on their mother's face; a peculiar combination of surprise, pride, contemplation and perhaps sadness and guilt. She hides it well when they beamed up at her for approval, as they always did when they accomplished something important, eyes shining innocently. As always, she ruffles their hair. This time with an odd smile that didn't reach her eyes She buys them ice cream rolls on the way home as a treat.

From that day on, Masaki has Ichigo perform the finishing blow whenever they hunt together. 

Kaien bemoans it once or twice, but their mother deftly placates him almost as effortlessly as he drew smiles from her. Bluntly, despite being the same Quincy-Shinigami hybrid as his brother, Masaki didn't want to risk destroying another soul to test if he shared Ichigo's ability.

Life-threatening danger aside, Ichigo thinks those were the best days. He feels like a superhero fighting back-to-back with Kaien, growing stronger and more confident in their abilities. Strong enough to protect Yuzu and Karin too. Strong enough to make their mama proud. And they do. Masaki applauds them with pride and a growing ruefulness she could never completely mask. She praises them for their strength, their ability to learn, to absorb and master.

Sadly, those days come to a grinding halt when they turn nine.

The day Ichigo purifies his first hollow is the day Ichigo first starts hearing whispers in his head. Whispers that grow louder as he meditates with his mother. He asks her about it once, curious more than concerned. 

His Shinigami side is asserting itself, Masaki reassures him a couple days later. But there's precious few details she could expand upon. Nothing beyond what she's already taught. And it's not like she could pry the answers out of Goat-face without tipping him off to their clandestine actions.

Not long after that discussion, Ichigo find himself falling asleep in his bed one night, only to wake up in a strange sideways world. Skyscrapers fill the void at horizontal angles, stretching on for eternity into a night sky illuminated by a single bright moon.

That's where he meets them face-to-face. His spirits. Because apparently he has two. Isn't he a special snowflake?

One looks exactly like Ichigo. Same age, same haircut, same face. But white like he's been dunked in a vat of bleach. His eyes are golden pin pricks against black sclera and he speaks with Ichigo's voice authored by a rasping static quality. A meanspirited grin that reminds Ichigo of Kaien when he's on his pranking sprees seems to be the spirit's permanent expression. He's rude, abrasive and seems to make sport of goading Ichigo. But it's hardly anything Ichigo hasn't heard before. Maybe he’s just grumpy ‘cause it took Ichigo so long to meet him in the first place.

The other spirit is older. An adult man with a scruffy jaw wearing a pair of sunglasses. His long wavy black hair and black shroud billow in an unseen wind. Unlike his white counterpart, he's stoic and reserved, carrying himself with solemn authority and pose. He greets Ichigo with a reserved warmth, and treats Ichigo with more fatherly regard than his own flesh-and-blood parent.

And if his mother’s guess is correct, these two, or at least the white one, are his zanpakutou spirits.

His white mimick proudly boasts his name is Zangetsu.

Of course that confuses Ichigo a little when he turns to speak to the old man.

“Then what’s your name?” Ichigo asks the old man innocently. “If he’s Zangetsu, what do I call you?”

“I have no name.” the man replies.

“Huh?” Ichigo tilts his head in confusion, “How come you don’t have a name?”

“I am merely the manifestation of your Quincy powers, nothing more.” Ichigo thinks he detects a note of sadness in that response.

“But… I'm a Quincy and a Shinigami, right?” Ichigo points out, “And if part of my power is a zanpakutou, and you’re part of my power too, wouldn’t that just make you another part of my zanpakutou?”

The old man’s eyes widened fractionally. Ichigo turns to his mirror image who folds his arms with a shrug, “Don’t look at me, partner. You’re the King here. Whatever you say goes.”

Smiling at the tacit approval, Ichigo turns that expectant look towards the old spirit.

For a long moment he examines Ichigo with a steady gaze before closing his eyes, allowing his thin lips to curl in the barest hint of a smile. “As you wish.”

“Then it's settled. You’re both Zangetsu!” Ichigo announces brightly with that happy grin, which falters. “But… it’ll get super confusing if I keep calling you two by the same name.” Ichigo crosses his arm and thinks hard, then he points a triumphant finger towards the elder spirit then to the younger in turn, “I’ll give you nicknames! You’ll be Old Man Zan. And you’ll be Shiro!” 

Shiro Zangetsu sputters, “Wha- what the heck?! Why does he still get to be called Zan?! I wanna be called Zan!” 

“You just said what I say goes.” Ichigo chirps cheekily bouncing on his toes, wearing the same grin Kaien wears when Ichigo falls for his pranks and ripping the wind right out of Shiro’s sails. 

Shiro’s mouth flops open and closed like a fish before relenting with a scowl.

“Stupid King.” Shiro mumbles petulantly.

“Settle.” Old man Zan instructs patiently, amused while placing a steady hand on the younger spirit’s shoulder while Ichigo laughs.

Present

Unfortunately, those halcyon days come to an end one fateful July evening. 

Losing their mother… It's a scar that will never heal. 

Despite that, their secret hunts continue. Though those hunts are a solo gig these days. Kaien tags along every now and then but far less frequently than he used to - and definitely less often than he likes - out of unfortunate necessity.

There’s probably healthier safer hobbies in the world but Ichigo’s never really been interested in exploring alternatives. Plus, it's a great way to keep his skills sharp and it appeases Shiro. Keeping the spirit from getting too bored with mundane life means Ichigo gets a full night's sleep. Whenever Shiro decided things are too quiet and he wants to shake things up, Ichigo often finds himself paying another visit to their world for impromptu training - that doesn’t necessarily make for the best night’s sleep.

Thankfully, they have similar thresholds for boredom, so Ichigo has a reasonable model to predict when Shiro starts getting fidgety again.

At least Ichigo can say he manages to moderate himself. He’s useless if he’s dead, so he doesn’t immediately dash around going after every Hollow he sees like a mad lunatic. Only the meddlesome ones that might get in his way. Which is more than he can say for his classmate, Uryuu Ishida. 

Ichigo occasionally spots Uryuu running himself ragged, obsessively fending off Hollows with his bow like he’s a vigilante straight out of an urban fantasy manga. He carries on his whole shtick as though it's a solemn duty he'd been anointed to carry out. Honestly, it looks so damn exhausting. 

(Masaki pointed his family out in the playground when they were children. Mentioned off-handedly they were cousins of some description but never elaborated beyond that. And Ichigo frankly never cared enough to inquire further. On the other hand, Kaien did care quite a bit but even his insatiable curiosity died against the silent pain in their mother’s eyes, so he let the subject drop.)

Setting aside the Quincy shenanigans for a moment, Ichigo also understands the basic premise behind Shinigami. Knows what they're about and knows what role they’re supposed to play in the grand scheme of things, learned from fragmentary information his mother subtly pried from Goat-Face. 

With the amount of Hollows he's seen skulking about, Ichigo already figured it's a matter of time before he met his first Shinigami. One he’s not directly related to and lives with under sufferance, he means. 

Of course, he's extremely irritated when the first one he sees appears in broad daylight, swooping in to slay an insectoid Hollow Ichigo was sizing up, derailing his own gambit to lure it with deliberate fluctuations of reiryoku and purify it.

That’s not frustrating at all.

However, what does take Ichigo by surprise is that his first encounter comes in the form of a young girl with black hair and violet eyes, wearing what looks like a standard black uniform and a red-silk wrapped katana in her grasp. 

She’s far different from the average shinigami he’d pictured in his mind. Ichigo expected hardened combatants, grizzled veterans covered in scars from countless battles against countless hollows. Not someone… dainty. And if Ichigo didn’t already know better, he’d swear she was just a teenager no older than him. 

What he can say is at least she knows how to do her job. She slays his target in two efficient strikes delivered with elegance and practiced ease. First to blunt its teeth, second to cleave the mask in two. 

Impressive display. But Ichigo privately grumbles to himself, not bothering to acknowledge the shinigami when she stoically spares him the meanest glance.

Doesn’t that just royally stuff things up for the foreseeable future? With the violet-eyed girl on the prowl, Ichigo won’t have a chance to play his usual tricks. He’ll have to lay low while she’s here. No one needs a shinigami poking around or asking questions. Which means Ichigo will have to resign himself to more unsolicited visits to his inner world for training for a while. And when she’s gone, Ichigo will pick his routine back up. 

After making sure the ghost girl is okay and resigning himself to mundanity in the immediate future, Ichigo walks the rest of the way to school. 

He just hopes the Shinigami won’t become a nuisance in the coming days.

Damn it. Why is Kaien home? 

In the privacy of his office clinic that evening, Isshin grit his teeth in frustration when he sensed his second son’s reiryoku turn the street corner towards home. He swears under his breath. 

This was not part of the plan. 

Isshin sternly instructed Kisuke Urahara to keep his second son well clear of this whole drama. That was the ironclad condition he laid down from the start. 

And Kisuke Urahara obliged. Especially after the scientist-turned-shopkeeper concluded when the boys were nine that among other things, the state of Kaien’s reiryoku rendered him … unsuitable for the challenges that lay ahead. A detectable instability that wouldn’t affect his human life but would harbour catastrophic consequences if he attempted to access his powers. (Isshin chooses to ignore how profoundly relieved he was to hear that, or how disgusted he was with himself at being so relieved.)

Calculations were made and adjustments implemented to their plans accordingly. The timeline was plotted out perfectly, ensuring that Ichigo would be home alone when they got this show on the road; that Ichigo would be the one manoeuvred into position to receive shinigami powers. 

To that end, Urahara spent the better part of the day corralling a suitable Hollow for the task, discreetly laying a trail to lure the Kuchiki girl into position. All the pieces were in place. 

Naturally, the world picks now of all times to throw a wrench into things. What’s the old saying? No plan survives first contact with the enemy?

Isshin checks his calendar, does a bit of mental maths and yes, Kaien’s supposed to be participating in his swim carnival for another day. 

And it’s too late to call off the Hollow attack. Urahara’s already camping somewhere, set to swoop in for the mop-up and give the Kuchiki girl the gigai.

Isshin chews his lip in thought, absently eavesdropping on the girls cheering and welcoming their elder brother home. 

No. This was salvageable. 

There’s still time to get Kaien out of harm’s way. Especially if the Kuchiki girl spots him, because of course Soul Society sent her of all people to this posting, she might react unpredictably. Possibly quit the field entirely, which would completely derail their own plans.

So Isshin puts his personal irritation under lock and key, and improvises. He scribbles down a hasty list of random items on a scrap of paper, an impromptu shopping list of sorts, and starts towards the main house. 

Is it a flimsy ploy? Yes. Does it matter if it gets Kaien out of danger and off the Hollow’s menu? No.

Isshin finds his three younger children conversing over the living room table. The girls had finished and cleared away dinner, now Yuzu’s cleaning the kitchen while Karin’s finishing her homework.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat, Kai?” Yuzu asks sweetly.

“I’m fine, Yuzu. I promise. I ate on the way home.” Kaien grins reassuringly, giving Yuzu a brief hug and ruffling her hair. 

“You won though, right? If you didn’t bring home the gold I’m disowning you.” Karin threatens without heat. 

“Oh yee of little faith,” Kaien shakes his head at her with an exaggerated sigh, “You’ll be pleased to know I did indeed win. As if there was any doubt. Which means there will be no disowning today. You’re stuck with me. Sorry, not sorry.” He says unrepentantly, crossing into the living room to give Karin a one-arm hug and kissing her crown. “Such a harsh baby sister I have.” 

“I’m just keeping you humble.” Karin shrugs him off, wrinkling her nose with disgust. “Take a shower. You stink.”

Kaien gives an affronted little gasp staring down at her slack jawed, playing up his offence with a hand over his heart. He looks towards Yuzu imploringly, who tries and fails to hide her giggling behind her hand.

“I didn’t want to say anything.” 

“Rude,“ Kaien flashes that characteristically goofy grin of his, “Not to worry. Gonna take care of that real quick. Then I’ve got a pillow with my name on it.” 

“Enjoy yourself. You earned it.” Yuzu chirps happily.

“Oh, but fair warning before you crawl into your cave to hibernate; Ichi’s been stupidly grumpy today.”

Kaien frowns at Karin, seemingly stumped for a solid minute. “You have met our brother, yes?”  

“ Grumpier than usual, Kaien.” Yuzu explains indulgently before her amusement fades into genuine concern, “I think he’s having a hard time lately. With all the… ya know, spirit-y stuff. Do you mind seeing if he’s okay? Maybe convince him to come back down and have something to eat - we’ve saved a dinner plate for him.” She then looks apologetic, “Sorry, we didn’t expect you home this early so I didn’t think to save you one too.”

Kaien gives them an effortless reassuring smile of his own and waves it away, “Don’t you worry about that. Leave Ichigo to me. Can’t make promises about forcing him to eat but I’ll cheer him back up. However… if he doesn’t want it, I’ll gladly sneak down later and nab it for myself later. It won’t go to waste.”

“It's orange chicken, by the way.” Yuzu reveals.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have said that. Now I’m gonna steal it for sure.”

“Assuming you’re even awake enough. You look dead on your feet, Kai.” Karin points out bluntly.

Kaien laughs and shrugs, “Don’t I feel it. I suppose schemes to abscond with delicious food might have to wait another day. For now… the shower beckons .” He announces, gesturing dramatically towards the second floor. 

“Not yet, it doesn’t.” Isshin announces brusquely, stalking into the living room and surprising them all.

“Dad, hey. I was gonna drop in-”

“I need you to run an errand. Right now.” Isshin announces, pushing the folded paper scrap towards his second son.

“Wha- You’re kidding.” Kaien deflats.

“Nope. Right now.”

Kaien looks at him in sheer disbelief, pushing the paper back towards Isshin, then checks his watch briefly. “Dad, you’ve got to be joking. The shops closed an hour ago and the nearest twenty-four hour store is the next town over, an hour’s train ride away. And with those storm clouds brewing on the horizon, there’s no way I’m going at this time of night for a few miscellaneous odds and ends. A school night, I remind you.”

“Kaien, I’m not asking. I’m telling-”

Kaien interrupts with a half-smile, “Dad, listen, if it wasn’t important enough that you didn’t send Ichigo out while the shops were open, it can clearly wait until tomorrow. I’m exhausted, ache all over, positively reek of chlorine and the only thing on my mind right now is a hot shower and sleep.”

“Kaien-!” Isshin booms, thoroughly irritated that he probably should’ve seen this half-assed plan wasn’t going to work. But he still had to try.

“Look,” Kaien takes the scribbled note and demonstratively pins it under a blueberry magnet on the fridge, next to three other-fruit themed magnets in the LEAVE A NOTE corner. “See? It's there for the morning. If we really need them that badly, I’ll do a grocery run on our way home from school.”

Isshin frowns, mentally cursing the stubbornness inherent to their entire family as his son pushes past him to head upstairs.

Kaien brushes it off smoothly, re-emphasising his point. “Sorry Dad, but unless you want me to pass out on the train and wake up god-knows-where in the morning, I’m having that stupid shower and going to bed. Good night.”

“Sleep well Kai~!” Yuzu says happily.

“Hog all the hot water and I’ll kick your butt.” Karin half-threatens.

Isshin watches him go, biting his lip with a frustrated huff. 

The only illumination in Ichigo’s bedroom came from a scattering of intermittent moonlight piercing through a cloudy haze. 

Reclining on his bed, Ichigo idly flips through the assigned reading for this week’s homework. But his eyes glazed over hours ago. The reading is duller than dishwater but even if it hadn’t been, his mind would be anywhere but the book.

The twin brothers share a bedroom. Ichigo’s bed is nested under the larger north facing window. Kaien’s is wedged at an adjacent angle under the smaller east window, the first thing you see as you open the bedroom door. Naturally sharing a room spawned an imaginary divide where half the room is loosely organised with bookshelves mounted on the walls in semi-neat order. The other half of the room has shelves filled with swimming trophies and ocean-themed paraphernalia. 

He steals occasional glances over the top of his novel, watching his younger brother laying face down on his pillow sound asleep. Despite appearance Ichigo’s an expert at reading the signs. As good an actor as Kaien is before the rest of their family, he knows better.

Kaien’s deteriorating again. 

Not that the stubborn ass would ever admit it (but openly complaining about him being a stubborn ass is basically the pot calling the kettle black).

Suspicions confirmed by the way Kaien collapsed on his bed with barely a greeting, in a manner that suggested less falling asleep and more losing consciousness. Didn’t bother pulling the sheets back either. After Ichigo checked on him, he threw a spare warm blanket over him. It's going to be an unseasonably chilly night tonight. The last thing either of them want is for Kaien to catch a cold on top of everything else. For now he seems to be resting peacefully. 

For now.

The next time Ichigo looks over his book to check, he nearly jumps out of his skin. Faint traces of reiryoku gather at his fingertips as a defensive reflex. Then he hisses a curse under his breath. 

First, that Shinigami girl steals his kill. Now she leaps in his bedroom through a black formless portal, standing on top of his desk completely oblivious to Ichigo half-glaring at her for the intrusion. 

Ichigo grits his teeth in anger, scowling at the brat with occasional glances at his younger brother. He’s ready to jump the crazy shinigami but stops short when she mutters cryptic nonsense to herself and leaps out his open window without so much as a ‘how do you do?’. Her lack of self-awareness is staggering, meandering about and blissfully unaware Ichigo is looking right at her.

“I swear that chick is stalking me.” He grouses, sitting upright to observe her gliding towards the street below.

Ichigo winces. Upon reflection he probably should’ve seen it coming. 

On his way home from school, Ichigo scoped out another Hollow and… well, old habits die hard. He’d been fluctuating his reiryoku output all afternoon to draw it in like a lighthouse in the dead of night, hoping to snag a quick kill before it got too close to home. He hadn’t counted on fighting something else for its attention. By the time he got halfway home Ichigo figured it lost interest in their cat and mouse game.

Consequently, the area is now massively saturated with his reiatsu. That’s probably why the shinigami got her wires crossed. And, Ichigo reflects sourly, is the main culprit behind why that damn Hollow gets the drop on her the second she touches down in the street.

“‘ts tha’ girl.” 

Ichigo jolts in surprise at the sluggish murmur coming from behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, Ichigo sees his twin brother, barely awake and pushing himself up on his elbows, peering through the crack in his curtains. 

“You’ve seen her before?” 

Kaien nods, his voice low and groggy. “Yeah. Yeah, I have. Saw her at the pool today. Apparently she wanted to help the boy who haunted the place pass on. But before she could she took one look at me and bolted.”

There’s a joke there but Ichigo graciously ignores it.

“Maybe she freaked out because she’s not used to being seen?” Ichigo muses quietly. “How many humans have the ability to see spirits in the first place? She probably didn’t know what to think.”

“She was definitely spooked. I’ll tell you that much.” Kaien mumbles, “Never figured Shinigami to be skittish.”

They fall into silence, spectating the engagement, wincing when the Hollow’s huge fist smashes the girl into a building wall.

“Wow, she is getting her butt whooped.” Ichigo observes grimly. 

Kaien frowns with an uncharacteristically calculating expression. “No… read the flow of her reiryoku. She should be stomping that thing into the pavement but she’s distracted. Something’s screwing with her focus.” 

Ichigo grimaces. Undoubtedly another unwitting consequence of his baiting tactics. “Whatever’s distracting her, this skirmish is getting too close for comfort.” 

The last thing anyone needed was a dead shinigami on their doorstep. If one dies, more will come and frankly, neither of them are prepared to deal with that headache. 

The shinigami’s reiatsu starts dipping to dangerously low levels, so Ichigo reaches out, slow and deliberate like the old man taught him. It's a new trick he’d been taught recently, a way to manipulate the shadows themselves. Ichigo’s not particularly good yet but he can sense the old man just below the surface, guiding him through it. 

With steading breaths, Ichigo closes his eyes and concentrates. As the shinigami launches upwards, dramatic battle cry and all, tendrils of Ichigo’s power reach out bending the shadows to his will. Tiny threads of shadow comply, just enough to trip it up midcharge final attack. Just a nudge. Like stubbing a toe mid-run, but it's enough to gain the advantage.

Ichigo lingers long enough to see her exhausted expression, disbelief mixed with relief as her zanpakutou plunges deep into the Hollow’s mask and it falls, purified into a pure white butterfly. 

She’s in bad shape herself, but at least she’s alive.

“Somebody saw you.” Kaien reports, keeping to an urgent whisper. 

“What?” Ichigo questions, “Her?”

“I don’t know…” Kaien murmurs, concentrating. Searching. After a couple seconds he finishes. “To the right, three roofs down. He’s covering his tracks but I can make him out. Barely.”

Ichigo readjusts himself, giving the appearance of leaning out his window to inspect the aftermath of the shinigami’s fight. For a brief moment he can make out the edges of a shadowed figure, who vanishes without a trace. “That’s not eerie in the slightest.”

Kaien hums, “Someone she’s working with, you think?” 

“If they are working together, she needs better comrades. Whomever it was seemed distinctly uninterested in rendering assistance.” Ichigo observes sourly. 

“Doesn’t paint a charming image, does it? Should we be worried?”

“Haven’t quite figured that part out yet.” Ichigo says, scowling, “I really don’t like how this day is turning out. A shinigami showed up at your race; the same one that showed up at the town square to pounce on a Hollow; and now she and a second Hollow duked it out on our doorstep.”

Kaien’s expression is blank, “I’d chalk it up to a magnificent coincidence but I don’t believe in coincidences.” 

“Neither do I.” Ichigo agrees, tapping the window seal while he thinks. “Someone or something out there wants to make our lives more eventful than we generally like.” 

Ichigo glances around again. He doesn’t sense anything. “Is the mystery guy still out there or are they  gone?”

Kaien’s brow furrows, “I think they’re gone. I can’t sense anything out there… I’d have an easier time sorting it out if someone hadn’t spilled their reiatsu everywhere.” He quips half-heartedly.

Ichigo rolls his eyes, pushing down his irritation. “Knock it off. We’ll figure out what to do about it tomorrow. In the meantime, You go back to sleep. You’re exhausted.” He instructs sternly. 

“What are we gonna do about her?” Kaien gestures outside.

Ichigo glances out again, considering the collapsed girl for a moment. “We can’t let her bleed out in the middle of the street. I’ll bring her inside. Go find a first aid kit.”

Chapter Text

Well now. Isn't this an fascinating development?

Kisuke Urahara runs through the evening's events in his minds, staring intently at his own reflection in the mug of cold tea on the coffee table.

Cloaked in a web of kido, Kisuke had observed the whole skirmish from afar. Though not so distant he couldn't step in if things turned disastrous.

Ultimately the intended purpose of tonight was to test Ichigo Kurosaki's potential to become a shinigami. To determine if all that raw power could be channeled and focused into something of practical use.

Naturally, no plan survives first contact with the enemy. And its safe to state tonight hadn't transpired remotely like Kisuke had expected.

But not all hope is lost.

Quite the contrary; Kisuke's curiosity is piqued. What he observed presented a host of fascinating variables to consider.

From what Kisuke observed, Ichigo seems to have a decent grasp of rudimentary reiatsu manipulation. Quite a feat given his sporadic reiatsu emissions. It was no kido, but Ichigo managed to provide a sufficient enough distraction. Enough to gain the Kuchiki girl an advantage while the hollow was doing its level best to smash her to pieces. That wasn't the most shocking revelation either. Not long after the Hollow had been dispatched and young Kuchiki collapsed from exhaustion, Kisuke swears he could sense the boys - because young Kaien had evidently returned home - sensing him. Despite the veil he'd conjured around himself.

Intriguing. Most intriguing. And extremely impressive for self-taught novices.

But perhaps, Kisuke reasons with himself, that display shouldn't be unexpected in the scheme of things.

A pair of intelligent young men with the ability to perceive the extraordinary; its natural to assume they'd dabble in that capability. Idle curiosity mixed with tried and true sibling rivalry might've driven them to experiment, to see whether that ability extended beyond perception into interaction.

Despite the initial stage ending in tatters, Kisuke's plan is far from unsalvageable and he's nothing if not adaptable. He merely needs to investigate this unexpected twist further before plotting his next move.

The first order of business will be to seal the hogyoku. Injured as she is, young Kuchiki will require time to recuperate and Kisuke has just the gigai prepared for her. It might be cruel, forcing her to unknowingly bare the weight of their mistakes but needs must.

After that, Kisuke will spend the coming days observing the elder Kurosaki twins. Its been nearly six years since he'd seen either child, albeit from a distance. Which means its long past time to reevaluate his previous assumptions.

For now, he has a phone call to make.

As Rukia regains her wits, the first thing she realises is she's laying down on something hard. A particularly hard mattress of sorts. The second thing she notices is the sound of a pencil scratching on paper followed by a sunbeam washing over her face.

At first Rukia assumes she's in her quarters. But that can't be right. She shouldn't be in the Thirteenth's barracks or in the Kuchiki clan manor. When did she return home? Her mission couldn't have been over that quickly, could it? More over, why didn't she remember? None of this makes any sense. Rukia is positive she would've remembered coming home.

Wracking her brain for the last thing she remembers, Rukia mentally retraces her steps. She was on assignment in the human world. She was hunting a hollow, and-

Rukia's eyes snap open. She catapults up right to a seated position with a sharp gasp, blankets pooling around her waist. Then a wave of dizziness knocks her right back down. She flops back while the room spins for a half minute, closes her eyes and nurses her head with a groan while the symptoms run their course. She breaths through the episode and before long, manages to come to her senses.

"Finally awake, are you?" A male voice comments beside her.

Rukia reacts on impulse, going for her sword but not finding it. Her heart skips a beat, panicked but she pushes that aside. Instead she turns sharply to the boy staring at her, idly spinning a pencil between his fingers with impressive dexterity.

"Do you always wake up like that? Or am I just special?"

Rukia's first instinct is to stare, gobsmacked. She thinks Kaien with orange hair. Then she chides herself. What has the matter with her these last few days? Is she so unbalanced her mind keeps producing the ghost of a dead man everywhere she turns? For that matter, Kaien would never wear such a scowling expression. Bad moods were an entirely foreign concept to the man. Maybe Rukia should've turned down this mission after all. Cited an imagined illness or lack of experience or requested a transfer to a quieter sector. Although she has decided when she returns to the Soul Society, Rukia put in for a long overdue rec leave. She's certainly accrued enough hours. Two weeks off to sort her head out sounds amazing right now.

However...

"Who are you?" Rukia blurts, recovering.

The stranger arches an eyebrow at her, and Rukia took in that shock of ginger hair and distinctly human clothing. A grey uniform of sorts. For a half second, she finds herself struck again but his appearance and finds herself unwittingly thinking of that dark haired boy from the pool, then remembers herself.

This person is human. But that's impossible. Ordinary humans shouldn't see her.

"You can see me?" she asks warily.

"No, I'm talking to my pillow." The human retorts sarcastically rolling his eyes, "Of course I can see you. Considering that's my bed you're hogging right now."

"What?!" Rukia demands, indignantly.

"Hey, don't get antsy at me. We dragged you in here after you collapsed last night." The boy replies, swiveling his chair to face her. "Or would you have preferred to bleed out in the middle of the street?"

What an insolent human! How dare he take that tone with her. Although Rukia bites her tongue. She should be grateful but this human's attitude is beginning to vex her greatly.

"My name is Ichigo Kurosaki, by the way. To answer your other question." He adds on disinterested. "And who in the heck are you?"

Rather than address his answer, Rukia frowns. Distracted.

Wait. What did Ichigo mean by 'we'?

Rukia doesn't have delve into that chestnut. Her brain short circuits, all offense forgotten while frantically trying to call what happened. She'd lost a lot of blood and her injuries were quite severe, that much was obvious but - "The Hollow! W-what happened to it?!"

In the face of her fretting, Ichigo's antagonism diminishes, "You mean that monster from last night? You killed it." he supplies matter-of-factly, pointing to Sode no Shirayuki which is leaning against the foot of the bed. "Rammed that sword through its face. Left behind a white butterfly that fluttered off. I guess that was supposed to happen?"

Rukia's heart soars with relief when she sees the blade. She scrambles to it, in perhaps a slightly undignified fashion, exhaling a deep relieved sigh when the familiar soothing chill flows up her arm. Sode no Shirayuki has weathered the previous night's battle better than she did, thank goodness for that.

Of course, that's when Rukia finally looks directly forwards, seeing the second occupant in the room. She'd been utterly disorientated and hadn't sensed his presence earlier but when she lays eyes on him, her insides drop and her blood turns to ice.

There, leaning over a desk that served as headboard to a second bed and dressed in the exact same grey school uniform as Ichigo, is the lookalike she saw at the pool yesterday. His profile, what little she could see, lined by an intense look of concentration. A pair of headphones blasts music in his ears while he pours over a notebook, fiddling with a small seashell woven into the looping leather bracelet around his left wrist.

The world freezes at the sight of him.

From a distance, the resemblance was already remarkable. But Rukia eventually convinced herself the features were coincidence. Up close, she realizes how delusional she'd been. Age him up a decade and give him a tattoo, he'd be a dead ringer for her old mentor.

"Typical. Hey, idiot!"

Rukia barely hears Ichigo groan. Out of the corner of her eye, she registers him pluck something off his desk and toss it across the room.

The tiny object nails the lookalike square in the temple. He makes a startled sound, jumping in his chair. Then he turns that hauntingly familiar face towards them, pulling his headphones off with a befuddled look. When he spots Rukia staring at him, he flashes that painfully familiar bright grin and with a tiny wave.

"Oh. Hi again! Not dead then." He greets cheerfully.

Part of Rukia knows she should be relieved. Grateful, even. That her mentor has been safely reborn to a new life, unmarred by that night's travesty. Another part of Rukia aches because she can't find a trace of recognition in those blue (not green) eyes. It's a bittersweet ache. Another part again, one bound in duty, screams at her to get the hell out of here immediately.

"You don't have to stare at his ugly mug all day. He's not that pretty." Ichigo grouses.

"Ichigo, we have the same face. You are literally insulting yourself."

"I don't know, man. I don't think there's enough plastic surgery in the world to fix that nose."

The lookalike wrinkles his nose flashing an irritated pout, before scooping up the discarded eraser and chucking it right back. "Behave. We have a house guest."

"Yeah, speaking of. Riddle me this; you're the spirit - why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"

"I just..." Rukia swallows, scrambling to cover her reaction, she shakes her head and tries to sound as composed as possible. "I... confess to being entirely caught off guard. Two humans who possess enough spirit energy to see me is... practically unfathomable. The odds of finding one human who can see me is astronomically small. Two of them together is statistically impossible, but given you're clearly... I want to say brothers, I suppose it shouldn't be too shocking."

"Sounds like you need better statisticians." Ichigo deadpans.

"Or we're just that awesome." The Kaien lookalike suggests teasingly, to his brother's weary chagrin.

"Do not make me come over there."

Rukia's head starts to hurt. This situation is so surreal. "Both of you saw me fighting that hollow, last night?"

"Twelve foot tall skull-faced fish monster, stomping around like it owns the place. Kind of hard to miss." The Kaien lookalike shrugs, unbothered.

"Plus, you jumping into our room and wandering about like a lost soul for a minute." Ichigo says.

"What, you skive off your duties to sneak into handsome boys' rooms while they're was sleeping? You little stalker." The lookalike accuses without heat.

Rukia's face flushes red with indignation and she splutters. A vein bulges on her temple, "Oh. And who was it who thought it was a good idea to drag an unconscious girl into a room shared by two teenaged boys?" She snips right back.

The lookalike opens his mouth to retort, slams it closed as he reconsiders then gives a conciliatory shrug, glancing towards Ichigo, "Okay, yeah. I've gotta give her that one. Out of context, this does look super bad."

Ichigo exhales a long suffering groan, levelling a grumpy scowl at her. "Look. You're the one who intruded first. And if you didn't want first aid, don't pick a fight outside an emergency clinic. There's also the tiny niggling issue that you're a ghost. It's not like we could've put you up in one of the clinic's spare beds."

Rukia's thoughts whirl at a million miles a minute. This situation is incredibly strange. "And neither of you are the least bit curious about what I am?"

"Magical girl ghost samurai?" The lookalike suggests.

"An increasingly obnoxious pain in the ass." Ichigo says.

The lookalike covers his mouth with his fist, biting back a reflexive bark of laughter. "Ichigo!" he scolds.

"Well." Rukia begins with an abrupt haughtily, having finally convinced herself to leave. And because their continued comments were rapidly exhausting her patience.

Rukia rises from the bed, tucking Sode no Shirayuki back in her sash, "It seems I've more than overstayed my welcome. I appreciate your aid, humans," She pointedly emphasizes the word, "And I will apologize for intruding upon your privacy. I wasn't aware either of you had enough reiryoku to see me but I won't tarry here. Though I've been injured, my duties require I be elsewhere. I expect we shan't meet again."

Without another word, Rukia leaps out of the open window. Was that a particularly subtle exit? No. Was she running away? Absolutely.

In the privacy of his office, Isshin pretends like he hadn't been anxiously pacing since he'd woken up this morning. A mega pile of patient reports from hell is stacked high on his desk and he'd promised himself after last night's drama was over, he'd get them done. But his mind's been anywhere but clinic paperwork. Plus the nerve-wracking reality of how close his family came to danger, how defenceless the girls were coupled with Kaien coming home a head of schedule. Even with Kisuke hovering somewhere nearby, Isshin didn't exactly get a good night's sleep either.

Of course, his second son's return wasn't the only thing that went awry. Though on one level, there's sheer relief that the Hollow never made it to his front door. On another, they won't get a golden opportunity like this again.

The only reason Isshin agreed to last night's plan in the first place is because it would've been a relatively controlled environment for Ichigo to finally tap his powers.

Part of Isshin hates himself for subjecting-slash-volunteering his elder son for that scenario, but they didn't have time to be gentle. If Ichigo doesn't awaken to his potential soon, and if Aizen got it into his head to take some initiative and abscond with one or both of Isshin's sons, they'll all be in trouble.

Unfortunately, nothing ever goes smoothly. The whole night was thrown off kilter, but not for the reasons Isshin expected.

"You're absolutely sure it was Ichigo?" Isshin is positively confounded, ear pressed to the phone.

"Unless you have a third son tucked away somewhere that I don't know about, then yes, I'm quite certain." Kisuke answers dryly.

Isshin asks the obvious question, "How?"

"From what I've observed, it appears Ichigo has developed a rudimentary grasp of reiatsu manipulation. He wasn't directly involved in the battle itself but his contribution provided a vital distraction to allow Ms Kuchiki an opening to purify the Hollow. An equally impressive feat worth noting is they've demonstrated above average skill in perception." Kisuke reports.

"They?" Isshin echoes, incredulous. "Both of them could sense you? You must be imagining things in your old age, Kisuke."

"Hardly." The shopkeeper replies. "Shortly after Ms Kuchiki collapsed and while they were working diligently to recover her, they both noticed my presence through my concealment."

A charged silence stretches.

"Where would they have learned that?" Isshin muses out loud, a puzzled frown etched on his face, "I haven't taught them anything."

"It's entirely possible they have experimented with and taught themselves." Kisuke suggests.

"But to that extent?" Isshin idly scratches his stubbled chin while he mulls it over, troubled by the implications. "I'd like to refute that suggestion but it's not exactly out of character where Kaien is concerned... The first one, at any rate. That in itself is a major problem. But Ichigo? He never seemed interested in the spirit world. Or if he did, he's kept it very private. He'd always kept the impression it was a general nuisance more than anything."

"They are brothers. Perhaps a sense of rivalry spurred them on?" Kisuke points out, then continues gravely. "Whatever the brought about this circumstance, they are dabbling in powers most ordinary humans couldn't begin to comprehend in their dizziest daydreams. I think it warrants some gentle investigate on your end. Perhaps you determine to what extent they can tap their latent abilities? Provide some guidance."

Isshin scrubs a hand over his face but otherwise doesn't response. It is the prudent course of action. Isshin did want Ichigo to awaken his powers, but he also didn't want Kaien leering enviously at his brother. How exactly do you explain to your second son, every inch as stubborn as his namesake, that he had the same potential for great power as his elder brother, but couldn't actually do anything with it without ending himself in the process?

"At the risk of sounding presumptuous, have you given any thought to broaching the subject of yourself and their mother?"

"It's..." Isshin hesitates, exhaling a bone-deep sign. "I've never found the right opportunity to tell them. Frankly I haven't figured out how to tell them about it either. Not without opening up whole other can of worms. There are a lot of complexities to consider."

He hears Kisuke make a quiet sound over the phone. "Suit yourself. But you must know they will find out eventually. If not by your mouth, then someone else's. And that will not end well for anyone involved."

"I know, I know." Isshin closes his eyes, rubbing his temple, "Look. By virtue of what they are, those boys will suffer through hell before this over. Allow me to live in the illusion that I'm protecting their innocence for a while longer, won't you?"

Kisuke remains neutral, "Very well. I understand. In the meantime, I will keep you appraised of my findings."

Isshin ends the call, letting the receiver drop to his office desk with a dull thud. He buries his face in his hands with a long, strained sigh. He's not permitted to wallow privately in his thoughts for long before a knock rattles his office door. He'd already figured out which one of his kids is standing at his door, even before spying the dark-hair silhouette in the frosted glass. Almost as if Isshin's mere thoughts summoned him.

Gathering himself, Isshin sets the phone aside and arranges his desk. In a former life, he'd long since perfected the art of appearing busy without actually doing anything. He pulls a patient's file off the top of a stack and flips it open to a random page.

"Come on in." Unsurprisingly, Kaien walks into his office with a mug of steaming hot coffee in his hand. Something Isshin eyes with envy for a split second, only to realise it's for him when Kaien sets it down on his desk.

"Hey. Yuzu mentioned you were looking a bit run down. Figured you could use a pick-me-up after being cramped in here all morning. And there's a fresh pot with more out in the kitchen for you."

"Yes!" Isshin agrees, nodding emphatically, "Your little sister is an absolute angel."

"Yeah, she is. I, um, also noticed that the shopping list on the fridge is gone?" Kaien points a finger over his shoulder.

Isshin has to remember what he's talking about, "Huh? Oh, that. I took care of it before you all woke up."

Kaien wear a smug crooked smirks and shrugs, "Told you it could wait until morning."

"Don't you give me sass, boy. Not until I'm at least half-way through this." Isshin retorts, pointedly scooping up the mug and taking a long, obnoxiously loud sip, wincing as it burnt his tongue. "Ah! H't, h't, h't!"

Kaien rolls his eyes, shaking his head amused. "It's literally steaming. Of course its going to be hot, you idiot. That's how convection works."

"Don't get smart with me." Isshin warns him flippantly.

"Oh, right. I forgot who I'm dealing with. Need to dumb it down for you." Kaien makes a show of pondering it, "Okay, let me know where I lose you: Hot water makes mouth go ouch."

Isshin stares at his son thoroughly unimpressed, clicking his tongue. "Walked into that one."

"You really did." Kaien beams, suppressing a laugh.

Isshin shakes his head again, looking back down at the patient record on his desk.

"Hey Dad, is everything okay?" Kaien asks more seriously.

Isshin glances back up at him, eyebrow raised, "Fine. Why do you ask?"

Kaien doesn't meet his gaze, making a sound in his throat, "Just last night. Got the sense you seemed a bit, uh - I don't want to say high-strung, but..."

"Flustered?"

"Yeah, okay." Kaien agrees reluctantly, "Kind of felt like you weren't keen to see me home. Is, uh... is there anything going on that we should worried about? Anything I should be worried about?"

Boy, is there ever? Extraordinarily perceptive, indeed. Isshin plays it off, though not as smoothly as he would've liked.

"No." Isshin answers quickly, a little too quickly to be convincing. He steadies himself, "No, nothing right now. Yesterday was a, a long frustrating day, kiddo. Had a lot on my mind. I didn't mean imply anything by my tone."

"Okay..." Kaien nods slowly, "Alright then. Well, Ichigo and I are headed to school now. Catch you later."

"Sure." Isshin watches him turn before he remembers something, "Oh, before you head off. Your qualifiers. You won, right?"

Kaien puts on a thoroughly offended expression, hand over his heart, "Father, it wounds me you even had to ask."

"Did you hear that, Masaki?! Our precious son's the top of his league!" Isshin scoops up the framed photo of his wife off his desk, "He'll take the nationals by storm in two weeks! I couldn't be more proud!"

He hears Kaien snort and throw a "See ya tonight, Dad." over his shoulder on the way out.

Chapter Text

Whichever Research and Development Institute researcher made this piece of junk gigai either needs to be fired or have their pay docked. The wounds Rukia sustained two days ago in her skirmish against the Hollow outside Ichigo's and Kaien's lookalike's home were evidently more severe than she realized. When she'd left (ran away) that dwelling, it sapped all her energy to make it to the out-of-the-way shop owned by Urahara, forcing her to inhabit this cramped flesh shell while she recuperated.

Rukia knows that wearing a gigai is an occasional necessity in their line of work but she'd never actually been put in that position herself. Until now. The dismal few classes she'd attended at Shinō Academy covered the theory, providing broad stroke descriptions of what inhabiting a gigai would actually be like and provided clinical instructions on how to interface with one effectively. But no amount of theoretical education ever matched against the real thing.

It's a strange sensation, wearing a body that simultaneously was yet was not her own, and most definitely not comfortable in the slightest.

Whomever calibrated this thing needs to have their eyes examined. She mentally grumbles, flexing and closing her fingers into fists. Minute responses like this are stiff like there's a layer of static between her reiryoku and the gigai's interface, plus the feeling of being smothered, squeezed into clothes a dozen sizes too small for her. Which is saying something, considering her already diminutive frame. She puts it down to simply being unused to the weight and being inexperienced in its operation. With more practice, she's certain it'll become easier to move.

Small mercy then that Rukia hasn't sensed a hollow's presence in the intervening time, nor has she received any orders from the Soul Society requiring her urgent and immediate attention. Solace in that at least. The less she strains her powers, the sooner she can recover her strength. And the sooner she can shed this pseudo flesh, the better she'll feel.

However, Rukia is not so wrapped up in her own irritation that she can't take a moment to appreciate the peace and quiet of a warm summer afternoon. Dressed in a two-toned blue frock and black slip-on shoes that seems to be a common modern fashion, Rukia had found herself a small bench in what seems to be a main town square. Its an open plaza of sorts, lined with shops similar yet completely alien to those back home.

Still, this place have a sense of... normalcy Rukia admires. A sense of the ordinary. She sits back and watches. A young family heading in and out of shops, guided along by the eager child. A faint smile pulls at the corner of her lips while she watches these humans mill about their daily lives.

But an unfortunate downside to this quiet means her mind is free to roam back to the twin brothers.

No dismissing the resemblance as a trick of the mind now. Not when he - not when they appear to be adolescent clones of the late Kaien Shiba, albeit one palette swapped with an expression authored by a permanent scowl.

Now dysfunctional shock has abated, Rukia argued with herself about what she's going to do. Protocol dictates she should report the matter immediately so remedial measures could be undertaken. The research institute would select an representative to conduct a damage assessment, memory modification would undoubtedly follow to erase Rukia's presence entirely. The brothers would go on with their lives, blissfully ignorant that they ever met her. Depending on the research institute's findings, the whole incident may go down as a permanent black spot on Rukia's permanent record and she'd have to endure a probation period, but any potential damage would be mitigated.

Selfishly, there is part of her desperately wants to go back.

Setting aside the unresolved mysteries surrounding the Hollow's behavior the other day, she... simply wants to see him again. Speak with him. To throw every caution and edict to the wind and tease out if there's any traces left of the man that used to be. And, if Rukia was completely honest with herself, to sate a selfish wish for personal absolution, to learn for certain if he would forgive her for what she did. Or if he wouldn't.

The opportunity - the temptation - is so very tantalizing.

Of course acting on those impulses is expressly forbidden. Deliberately inserting oneself into the reborn life of a former loved one, attempting to reawaken old ghosts, is one of the gravest crimes a shinigami could commit. They are wardens of the cycle of reincarnation, their duty is to shepherd the dead into the next realm, not to turn back the hands of time to seek personal restitution.

At the same time, Rukia reluctantly counters herself, she couldn't merely leave them to their own devices either. Those two possessed incredible amounts of reiryoku, both latent and emitting. Enough to see and to physically interact with her spirit body, which means they would draw any Hollow to them like moths to a flame. Any mindless beast who got their claws on the twins' souls would become orders of magnitude stronger, requiring seated officers or Captains to deal with.

Rukia bites her lip in frustration. Duty has completely split her down the middle. To avoid violating edicts against reassociation, Rukia must stay away. However, she has to remain nearby in case hollows decide to target and devour them for their spirit energy, at least until a replacement has arrived and she'd gathered the strength to return to Soul Society.

She wrestle with herself and her own frustration, which leaves her completely distracted. Lost in thought like she is, she doesn't hear the person creeping up behind her. Doesn't sense them looming close until, in the corner of her eye, she glimpses a shock of black spiky hair.

"Boo!"

"Kaien!" Rukia blurts out the name as a startled reflex, practically bounding off the bench to face her intruder.

For a split second there's a tremor, a micro-expression of puzzlement on the lookalike's face. But it's gone before Rukia registers it, replaced by a Cheshire's grin. The lookalike leans on the bench back, chin propped up on his palm.

"Oh, you are gonna be so much fun to mess with." He promises, eyes shining with boyish mischief. He's dressed in more casual clothes today. A pair of jeans and three-quarter grey shirt. That same shell band sits on his left wrist, now joined by a watch.

"Found yourself a new victim, have you, Kaien? Better her than me I suppose." Ichigo drawls, meandering closer at a leisurely pace.

"I still have plenty left in the tank for you, dear brother. Don't you worry about that."

"Oh goodie. I can't wait." Ichigo grumbles sarcastically under his breath.

Like his twin, Ichigo is dressed casually today with his hands shoved in his pockets, wearing an expression of pure disinterest. "So much for 'I expect we shan't meet again.'" he mocks lightly.

Rukia doesn't hear the mockery. Her attention taken by something else.

Kaien.

Even the name is the same.

Rukia swallows down a lump in her throat. That's too much. Too much of a coincidence. She can't decide if fate is being kind or relentlessly cruel. But she compartmentalizes those thoughts for later, instead clinging to her rising indignation at Ichigo's tone.

"What are you doing here?" she half-demands.

"That's our line. We," Ichigo gestures between himself and Kaien, "live here. So I'll throw that question right back at you: what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be off hunting more Hollows or going back to wherever you came from?"

Kaien motions with his free hand towards the people milling around the square, some of whom paused briefly to react to Rukia's earlier shriek, but quickly moved on with their lives. "Yeah. Can't help noticing other people can see you now, plus you're not wearing that black and white get-up anymore. Does that mean you're not a ghost after all? Is the ghost-hunting samurai thing a part-time gig...?" He trails off, shrugging vaguely. "What's the whole situation here because me is confounded."

Ichigo arches an eyebrow at his twin, "Interesting choice in syntax there, Kai."

Rukia takes a second to collect herself. "If you must know."

"We must." Ichigo says.

Rukia's brow twitches again. If he keeps this up Rukia might just smack him. But she takes a steadying breath, "Over the course of our duties, sometimes shinigami are required to mingle with humans, hence this gigai. A temporary fake vessel."

"Okay, so you're a shinigami and you're presently inhabiting a fake human body. That's not creepy in the slightest." Kaien says, then he draws back to muse to himself. "Though I suppose the convenience outweighs the creep factor."

"Back to the original question; what are you doing here?" Ichigo presses.

"My duty." Rukia responds but before she could expand on her answer, Ichigo jumps in.

"And what duty is that? Getting your ass handed to you on a silver platter?" Ichigo shoots back.

"Ichigo, behave." Kaien chastises reflexively.

"Oh please, you were thinking it." Ichigo accuses.

"Yeah but I wasn't gonna come right out and say it."

Rukia shakes her head and heaves a sigh as the twins descend into their childish squabble, "Are you imbeciles quite done with your bickering and mockery or should I leave you two to sort things out and come back later?"

"Right. Sorry." Kaien clears his throat, redirecting his attention to her. "Uh, before you dive too deep into things, would you mind giving us your name?" Kaien prompts, suddenly very awkward. "You know ours but we don't know what to call you? Tis slightly unfair and more than a bit rude."

"Unless you want us to address you as shorty or shrimp. Which I'm perfectly fine with, for the record." Ichigo interjects mildly, "Midget and pipsqueak are also on the table."

"Hey!" Rukia protests.

Kaien sends Ichigo a look, but not bothering to hide his amusement, "Did I not just say behave?"

"To quote a certain twin of mine, where's the fun in that?"

Kaien shakes his head, affecting an air of exasperation when he turns to Rukia, pointing at his brother, "See what I have to put up with?"

Ichigo gaps at him, incredulous. "Excuse me-?"

"You're excused." Kaien chirps, not skipping a beat.

A vein pulses on Ichigo's temple. "Don't make me come over there and kick your ass, twerp."

"Its so adorable you think you could, brat." Kaien taunts smugly.

"Why you little-!"

"As much as I'd like to see how this would play out," Rukia cuts in firmly when Ichigo makes a start for Kaien, interrupting things before the sibling banter escalates to blows in the middle of a public venue (which Rukia privately admits she would've found it hilarious if it were any other circumstance), "My name is Rukia Kuchiki. I've been charged with protecting your town the foreseeable future, from monsters such as the Hollow you saw me fight the other day, and guiding the lost souls to the next world."

"Charged? By whom?" Ichigo ponders to himself, then shrugs as if deciding he didn't care enough to know the answer.

"Neat. A resident psychopomp." Kaien says, nodding to himself. "Does that mean you'll be helping ferry the ghosts hanging around here? 'cause if you need to be pointed in a direction, I can think of at least a dozen restless souls hanging out in this precinct alone. One in particular leaps to mind." Kaien shudders at the thought.

Ichigo pulls a face. Judging from his expression, he both knows whichever spirit Kaien is referring to and clearly judged them to be an unpleasant individual. "You really want her to deal with old man Nakamaru on the far side?"

Kaien shrugs, "I'd rather have the guy move on to the next realm than wallow in misery all day."

Ichigo scoffs, "For real? Rukia's five foot nothing, if that, and that guy's a giant. He'd chew her up and spit her out."

"Rukia's got a sword," Kaien points out defensively, sparing her a quick glance, "Somewhere I think. If Nakamaru gets snippy... I don't know, she can stab him or something."

"Stab him?" Ichigo echoes incredulously.

"Politely." Kaien says as if stating the obvious.

Rukia's mind reels, both from the lack of a reaction to her true nature and the blatant lack for respect for her own capabilities (although in their defense, she hasn't exactly given them the best presentation). "I... okay. Setting aside for the moment you're both idiots, you're taking this extraordinarily well..."

The brothers exchange a look, something intangible passing between them, before they return their attention to her, "Yeah, well, we've been able to see ghosts for as long as we can remember. It doesn't exactly strain credulity to learn there's a subset of monsters to go along with the usual suspects." Ichigo explains casually. Kaien hums in agreement.

Rukia glances between them. She has the impression they're hiding something but considering how this conversation has gone thus far, she seriously doubts she'll get more out of them than they'd be willing to share. Instead she makes a decision.

"I suppose it wouldn't. However there are things that you should be wary off regardless. And I believe its only prudent that I teach you what to look out for and how do avoid them. At least for a time." Rukia declares with finality. "Is there somewhere we could speak more privately? There's other matters I'd like to discuss."

"Well now." Kaien begins, keeping his voice low and curiously neutral. "Ain't that a spot of intrigue?"

He and Ichigo are guiding their new... friend through Karakura town. She's hanging back a few paces and those violet eyes are studying their backs intently, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Intrigue, my foot. With her hanging around, I'll be stuck twiddling my thumbs," Ichigo complains grumpily in an equally low tone, then more concerned. "You think our watcher friend from the other day told her about us?"

"I haven't sensed him nearby." Kaien admits, brow creasing while he expands his sixth sense to seek the individual out. "For however little that counts. Just because they aren't present now doesn't mean they're not acting. Sending Rukia our way might be part of some scheme to probe what we know. Conversely, Rukia's interest is entirely authentic and they might not be working together at all."

"Coincidence upon coincidence." Ichigo murmurs disdainfully. "And you know how I feel about those."

"I know. I think you're right. I think someone really is trying to play us. And I for one do not appreciate it in the slightest." Kaien concurs, "But that's not the only thing I find intriguing."

Ichigo glances away for a second before catching on to Kaien's meaning. "We never told her your name."

"Exactly." Kaien says, wearing that crooked scheming mile of his.

Ichigo closes his eyes with silent exasperation, understanding full-well where his twin's line of thought is headed, "Kai, look. I know what you're thinking. And I don't think this is the way to get the answers you're looking for."

That remark wiped the look of his twin's face. "What else am I supposed to do? We both know prying the answers out of Dad is like pulling teeth, despite all the times I've practically beg him to tell me anything about my namesake." Kaien counters, sounding uncharacteristically bitter, "If I can't get answers out of him, I'll pry them out of her. Think about it; the way she reacted to us like she's the one seeing ghosts and the fact she knew my name unprompted. She knew him. It's obvious."

"Yeah, and if she knew him, that means she probably knows how he died too, Kaien." Ichigo points out brusquely, taking the wind out of his twin's sails. "Depending how close she might or might not have been with the guy, you don't think that might be a memory she'd rather not revisit?"

"So I'm just supposed to sit and stew, am I?" Kaien challenges with a rare scowl.

Ichigo rubs his temple, pushing away a mounting headache. "If what you're guessing is on the mark, that's another coincidence to add to the tally."

"I know." Kaien agrees.

Ichigo spares him a glance, seeing a discoloured mirror of his own determination. He exhales a bone-deep sigh after a long moment's pause. "You know your curiosity is going to get you killed one day."

"Probably." Kaien concludes without hesitation, "And god only knows if I'll like the answers when I find them, but the only way I'll know for sure is if I ask the questions."

"Fine. Just... don't be stupid when you broach the subject with her, alright? You have a habit of being a bit of a handful." Ichigo cautions him.

Kaien is positively amused, "Hi pot, name's kettle. Have we met?"

Ichigo groans, rolling his eyes.

"How much farther?" Rukia prompts, cutting into their conversation.

"Just around the corner. Why? Are you getting hungry?" Ichigo quips.

Rukia flushes red, sputtering. "Wha- No. Of course not! I was just, uh..." the low drawn sound of a growling stomach interrupts her sentence. Ichigo and Kaien stare at her. Ichigo bemused and Kaien hiding a teasing smirk.

"Gez. Only arrived, what, two days ago and you're already acting this bossy?" Kaien drawls, sharing a look with his twin and jabbing a thumb at Rukia, warming up to a routine with his twin. "Can you believe this?"

"I don't know what to tell ya. These tourists, man. What can you do?" Ichigo sighs, shrugging helplessly.

"Hey!" Rukia protests.

Chapter Text

The next Monday arrives. Ichigo and Kaien go to school that morning as usual.

Life goes on as normal.

Or as normal as it gets with your new shinigami friend insisting on shadowing their every step.

For their protection, Rukia explained haughtily in the face of their admittedly feeble attempts to dissuade her otherwise. But her zeal to carry out this self-appointed charge combined with her reasoning, that their latent spiritual emissions painted massive targets on their backs, leads the twins to discover she's at least half as stubborn as they are when her mind's made.

The spirits in Ichigo's head find the proposition positively hysterical. In his mind's eye, Ichigo sees Shiro doubling over in a wheezing fit, practically collapsing in howls of laughter as if it were the funniest joke he'd heard his entire existence. By contrast, Old Man Zan is merely stoically amused and shows that amusement with the barest upturn of his lip. Otherwise he says nothing.

The line of argument is quickly dropped in favour of a different matter.

Its not like the twins could offer much in terms of rebuttal nor were they particularly keen to explain why her protection wasn't necessary. One doesn't confess they've been hollow hunting on-and-off since they were six years old to a total stranger, especially when that stranger happens to be a Shinigami. A category of individuals who by-and-large have a less than stellar track record when it comes to dealing with Quincy. Nor is it a subject that can be broached without raising serious red flags, which would undoubtedly spawn a metric ton of uncomfortable questions the brothers would rather avoid like the plague.

Meaning as far as Rukia is concerned, Ichigo's active powers are an incredibly recent development and nothing more.

On the other hand, Rukia's brilliant idea to protect the elder Kurosaki twins was to… fake enrollment into Karakura High School to help keep her eye on them.

Yeah. Ichigo's eyes rolled so hard they just about bounced out of his skull at the suggestion. On the other hand, Kaien made a flippant, ill-advised remark that earned him a sound lump on the head. Because Rukia whacked him with a sketchpad.

Where did she get the sketchpad? They have no idea.

But when Rukia's not drawing toddler-esque doodles to aid her high handed explanation of Shinigami, Hollows, Pluses and other such concepts she deemed the twins - or specifically Ichigo - needed to know, that damn thing is a lethal weapon!

Not that Ichigo or Kaien needed the dumbed down one-oh-one on how their world works, hearing a bit more about the shinigami's specific role in the cosmic design did help recontextualise the cosmic order a little. Far more than the precious few scraps their mother managed to impart before she'd perished.

On the bright side, if the twins ever slipped up in front of their father and Isshin decides to interrogate them about their 'newfound' knowledge, they now have a scapegoat.

As for the enrollment itself, Ichigo admits he understands the logic. A huge chunk of your average teenager's life is spent in school. What easier way to protect them than togo undercover in that same cohort? Plus, Rukia has the added side benefit of fitting roughly into their age bracket appearance wise, despite hyperbolic insistences that she's over a century old (She probably is, but that indignant outburst was such free teasing fodder they couldn't resist).

Honestly the thing Ichigo finds most groan-worthy about the whole thing is the over-the-top façade Rukia puts on when introducing herself as the latest member of the student body. Such a sickeningly sweet display is tooth-curling. Like she'd found every caricature of eighteenth century noble women and mashed them all together into… whatever she's doing now.

Yet, some-freaking-how, against sanity and reason itself, everyone is falling for the magnificently crappy act.

Either they're dense, dumb, stupid or all three.

"I think it's hilarious." Kaien announces during their lunch break, mouth half-full with the sandwiches Yuzu packed this morning.

They're sitting in their usual spot on the rooftop under a brilliant sunny blue sky. They're presently enjoying the solitude, gives the twins an opportunity to talk unhindered. Though that won't last for long. Any second now the rest of their friends will intrude on their privacy, laden with their cafeteria bought lunches.

Ichigo observes his brother out of the corner of his eye. There's a subtle yet growing paleness in his skin that Ichigo knows all too well. A change made more apparent by his inheriting their father's tanned complexion.

Classmates and teachers have noticed it throughout the day too but they've long since learned to dismiss it. They believe it's his chronic health issues flaring up again. And while Kaien's characteristically chirpy demeanour is flatter and more forced than usual, he'll be back to his old self in a couple days.

Of course, not all members of the student cohort are as understanding. Such as members of the swimming team. They gossip like fishwives behind Kaien's back, unsubtly mocking his flare ups. Which naturally pisses Ichigo off.

Ichigo knows one braggart in particular is named Aoi Saito, the absolute worst kind of entitled, lazy asshole. Saito makes a habit of going behind Kaien's back and undiplomatically suggesting Kaien should be ejected from the team. Ichigo heard rumours that at one point, Saito spouted nonsensical, condescending crap about how Kaien's health is totally unreliable, unpredictable, and how Aoi Saito should be the school's star swimmer. Naturally conveniently ignoring the fact that come race days Kaien is miraculously always in perfect health and performing at his best, and that he placed first in the national qualifiers the other day.

(Ichigo makes sure of that. He knows how important water sports are to his little brother so he does his damnedest to take care of things. Plus, he enjoys watching the schadenfreude play out when Kaien's flawless performances makes Saito eat his words over and over.)

Observing his brother a few seconds longer, Ichigo puts those thoughts out of his mind.

"Which part? The crap-tacular acting or how gullible everyone is for falling for it?" Ichigo prompts.

Kaien pauses for a minute, humming in thought and brushing crumbs off his cheeks.

"Yes." He decides.

"No surprise there. Small things amuse small minds."

Ichigo grunts when Kaien punches his arm hard for that one. Didn't stop the mean-spirited smirk spreading on his lips. "And yet you don't deny it."

"I can hurt you." Kaien says cheerfully.

"Oh your existence is a pain I endure on a daily basis, dear brother, I promise you." Ichigo retorts, allowing himself to be drawn into their usual volley of good-natured insults.

"You severely underestimate how annoying I can be."

"Mmm. No. No, I'm fairly sure I've got a reasonably accurate estimation of how annoying you can be."

"Care to put it to a stress test?" Kaien offers, smiling brightly.

Ichigo stares at him blankly.

Kaien's smile widens.

Their impromptu staring contest lasts half a minute longer before the mask cracks. A treacherous corner of Ichigo's lip betrays him, curling upwards. He breaks and looks away first, shaking his head with a reserved small chuckle and shoving Kaien's shoulder.

"You are such a brat."

"Correction: I'm a brat and damn proud of it." Kaien shoots back gleefully. "But seriously, the drama club would love her."

Ichigo shoots him another look, a half-exasperated half-indulgent sort of expression. Quick as a flash, he snatches the last sandwich from Kaien's lunchbox and chomps it down, ignoring his twin's petulant whine of protest. Ichigo then offers him the last onigiri from his own lunch as recompense, which Kaien grudgingly accepts with a pout.

"She's a supernatural entity beyond mortal comprehension who slays invisible masked monsters to protect helpless human souls."

"Technically speaking, so are we. Doesn't stop us from living our lives like normies anyway." Kaien responds, then tacks on a hesitant afterthought. "For the most part."

"My point is I think she's got better things to occupy her time. She's already wasting enough of it here as it is."

"Doesn't mean she can't enjoy herself on the side." Kaien defends.

The rooftop door squeaking open accompanied by the enthusiastic chattering signals the end of their privacy and a close to that particular line of discussion. The brothers watch Mizuiro and Keigo emerge onto the rooftop, followed closely by Chad. They, in their own ways, were vying for the new girl's attention.

One of the unenviable downsides to Rukia's decision to enroll in their school, which the twins may or may not have deliberately declined to warn her about, she's now the most popular thing by far this week. Since she arrived, everyone's been scrambling to get to know the new girl, attempting to wrangle her into their own little cliques first.

"You decided if you're going to help her out yet?" Kaien asks, keeping his voice low.

"I'm still thinking about it." Ichigo confesses distantly, heaving a sigh and slumping back against the fence.

"I think it's a solid deal." Kaien says, "She gets help with her work and you can go on evening walkies. It's a fair exchange all around."

Ichigo groans, bumping Kaien's leg with his foot much to his younger brother's amusement. "Don't phrase it that way. I'm not a dog."

"That's true. You're more like a skittish cat. You pick your random little cluster of humans and settle there."

A vein pops on Ichigo's temple and he glowers at his win, who grins jovially in response. With some significant effort, Ichigo forces his boiling annoyance down to a simmer with a steady breath. This prick is trying to get under his skin again and Ichigo's refusal to take the bait forces that goading grin to drop at terminal velocity.

Instead Ichigo returns his attention back to their friend group.

"I should probably go save her from Mizuiro and Keigo, huh?" Ichigo muses out loud while they watch Rukia's false cheer become more awkward and strained by the second. (Keigo's a handful on a good day, Ichigo doesn't blame her).

"Mmm." Kaien hums, considering the spectacle. "In a minute."

"Yeah, in a minute."

Rukia can't say Urahara hasn't done her any favours.

He practically tripped over himself in a mad scramble the necessary formalities to assist her enrolment into the Kurosaki brothers' high school. Well, as much as an eccentric hermit like Urahara could scramble over things.

Locating the school was a simple enough task. Urahara quietly arranged things for her after that. Amazing what a few discreet memory modifications can do, isn't it? The teachers and administrators would address her as a new transfer student and accommodate her accordingly.

When Rukia actually arrived at school however, that was certainly a different experience than she expected. In her simpler days at Shin'ou Academy, surrounded by the progeny of Seiteitei's snobbish nobility, stuffed-shirt scions of noble families would almost unanimously look down upon those of supposed lesser stock. Such as those born in Rukongai. An attitude made worse within Soul Society proper by her adoption into the Kuchiki clan.

Frankly Rukia expected much the same here.

Instead everyone enthusiastically welcomed her. Many went out of their way to speak to her for the rest of the day. Although Rukia did detect the subtle weaving of teenaged politics in their words and felt somewhat like a piece of meat being judged.

Some things are the same across the board it seems.

But Rukia put all thoughts of ill intention out of her mind, reminding herself this isn't the cutthroat political arena of Soul Society, nor is she here to stay for a protracted period. They were teenagers. The absolute worst they could do is find her wanting and ignore her. A feeling Rukia knows all too well. When she concludes this assignment, they'll forget they ever met her at all.

On the whole, this is a refreshingly different experience in its own strange way. No real double-speak or honeyed words hiding daggers rasping from their sheathes, just ordinary teenagers trying to figure out their places in the world.

Still, that doesn't change the fact the whole situation is challenging, draining and the students funnelling out with the final school toil brought with an overwhelming sense of relief. (Here Rukia thought Kiyone and Sentaro were a handful when they got going.)

That's washed away quickly enough by a return to action. More important matters were at hand now.

"Ichigo!" She catches the twins turning a street corner, interrupting what appeared to be a quiet yet intense conversation. Even if she weren't actively seeking them out, the orange hair makes Ichigo stick out like a sore thumb.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the new girl." Kaien greets teasingly. "Hey new girl. How was your first day?"

Over the course of the day, she'd been observing the twins but she noticed a progressive decline across the hours. In the afternoon light, Kaien is paler than Ichigo. Unhealthily so. Not that he seems to notice or be affected in the slightest. Or perhaps he is, and has learned to hide it very well. Then her mind traces back to the scar she'd seen on his sternum, clean and surgical, and wonders if there's a connection.

Dismissing those thoughts, Rukia brings her mind back to the present and addresses his question. She deliberately ignores his ribbing tone.

"Not too bad, actually." Rukia admits, allowing a little nostalgia into her tone. "It's... nice. I think. Reminds me of my academy days."

The unguarded confession earns identical raised eyebrows and the twins exchange dumbfounded looks.

"Shinigami have school?" Ichigo questions, absolutely floored by the revelation.

"Of course." Rukia replies haughtily, "I had to learn how to ply my craft somehow. What, did you think we magically sprang forth from logs, fully formed and educated on every single duty shinigami must perform?"

There's a beat of silence.

"I mean..." Kaien trails off, awkwardly scratching the back of his head with a shrug then addresses his brother. "It would explain way too much."

Ichigo nods, making an affirmative sound in his throat.

Rukia aims a sharp glare at him and Kaien raises a hand defensively.

Ichigo jabs a thumb at his twin, "You can hit him if you want. But try not to hit him too hard, he bruises easily."

"Oi!"

"As tempting an offer as that is, I was hoping we could continue our conversation from the other day. That is if you have a moment?" Rukia says, attempting to steer the conversation in a more constructive correction.

The good humour evaporates and Ichigo's lips set in a grim line. He exhales a bone-heavy sigh in the face of her and Kaien's expectant looks.

"Look..." Ichigo starts, scratching the back of his head then holds up one finger, "I've thought about it. And I admit I'm not the kind of guy who'd go out on a limb for just anyone I see. But that being said, I have decided that I'll agree to help you for now. On one condition."

Rukia straightens up, eyes narrowing. "Very well. Name it."

Ichigo points that finger at his younger twin. "Kaien stays out of this. That's not negotiable."

"Done." Rukia answers without hesitation.

Meanwhile, Kaien splutters, "Wait what?! No. Not done. Don't I get a say in this?"

"No." Ichigo shoots back, turning to face him.

"Ichigo!" Kaien protests, furious.

"I said no." Ichigo repeats sternly, emphatically stabbing that finger in Kaien's sternum. "You know damn well why."

Kaien slaps Ichigo's hand away, gearing up for a long haul argument. "To hell with that for a joke. I'm not going to shut up and stand on the sidelines while you risk your life."

"Kaien, this isn't up for discussion." Ichigo pushes the warning out through clenched teeth.

"I beg to differ-!"

"Ichigo is right." Rukia interjects.

When Kaien aims his anger towards her, Rukia has to fight the habitual reaction to back down. He looks more like the Lieutenant Shiba Rukia knew than ever with that expression and the instinct to yield to authority is strong.

She gathers herself and continues. "I mean no offense, but Ichigo does have some active powers that could benefit from a little guidance if he wants to use them properly. And you... don't."

Probably not the most helpful contribution to the conversation but Rukia does want things to remain diplomatic for the most part, and whether he likes it or not those are the facts. Though Rukia does detect something else, a flicker of what might be amusement somewhere in that well of frustrated anger.

"I don't want you fighting. I don't want you anywhere near fighting. If fighting breaks out, you will be running the completely opposite direction-" Ichigo orders.

"-What, to flee like a coward and leave you two to deal with whatever mess you find yourselves in?"

"-End of discussion."

"It is not-!"

Doubtlessly, Kaien would've launched into a new tirade of loud stubborn protests that would've inevitably attracted attention from passers-by in the street, but his opportunity grinds to a honking screeching halt. Literally. The sound of a car horn cuts through the heated argument. Followed by screeching, a heavy impact and someone crying out in pain then more screeching as a vehicle speeds off.

"What was that?" Rukia demands urgently to no one in particular. The twins are already making a mad dash towards the source of the commotion, rushing around the street corner and having having completely forgotten her existence.

Turning that corner, they find a girl collapsed on the sidewalk. One with a long brunette mane, held back by a pair of cyan flower paperclips. She's hissing and groaning in pain, nursing a painful looking wound on her leg.

Ichigo is knelt down by her side, eyes focused on her leg and asking rapid questions. Meanwhile Kaien is frantically searching both directions of the road, chewing his lip with frustrated huff. He quickly jogs off to speak to another group of stranger about something, evidently asking his own questions and dissatisfied when they shake their heads.

Meaniwhile, the world zones out as Rukia's eyes narrow, zeroing in on the rapidly forming bruise on the girl's leg.

Suspicious. Quite suspicious. It's an unusual shape for a blunt force injury and a metal vehicle wouldn't account for the lingering spiritual taint emanating from it like a pulse. She recognizes it immediately as the scent of a Hollow.

"Dickhead." Rukia hears the frustrated hiss under his breath, glaring daggers up and down the road, clutching a phone like none Rukia had ever seen. Abandoning whatever he'd intended with the handheld, he instead slips his phone back into his pocket and reaches down to scoop up Orihime's scattered belongings, replacing them in her school bag.

"No one saw who did it?" Ichigo questions.

"No." Kaien grumbles.

"Or they did and don't want to bother fessing up." They're joined by another classmate. Another girl. Leaner, a touch taller with short dark hair and concerned brown eyes. Kaien hands the school bag off to her.

"Orihime, are you okay?" She asks urgently.

Orihime manages a nod, wincing a little.

"That bruise is coming up fast." Ichigo observes gravely, "Do you want one of us to walk you home?"

"N-no! I'm fine. Really." Orihime insists, levering herself unsteadily to her feet.

"I can take her home. Its on my way." The black-haired girl volunteers, helping Orihime right herself.

"You sure Tatsuki?" Kaien asks, and Rukia observes a certain keenness in his body language that screamed he'd really rather go with them. Obviously out of a sense of duty, if nothing else.

"I'm fine. I promise. You don't have to go out of you way to worry about me. This sort of thing... it's been happening to me a lot lately." Orihime says, offering a bashful smile.

"Getting over by a car?!" Ichigo snaps incredulously. "That's not a laughing matter. That's serious. Aren't you upset about that?"

"It's not like they hit me on purpose..." Orihime defends meekly.

"No, they just sped up and off and let you in the dirt. Instead of doing the decent thing like stopping to check on you, rendering for first aid if required or performing any sort of duty of care." Kaien inserts sarcastically.

Ichigo shakes his head in exasperation before addressing the newcomer, Tatsuki, "Can you promise me you'll take Orihime to a clinic or somewhere to get her checked out on the way home, please, Tatsuki? Make sure she hasn't done anything worse than a scrape?"

"Yeah, I'll make sure she's okay. Don't worry about it-"

Tatsuki is interrupted when Kaien suddenly doubles over into an uncontrollable coughing fit, covering his mouth with his hand. Tatsuki and Orihime both watch on in concern. Meanwhile a barely concealed dread creeps over Ichigo's face, at his brother's side with a grim hand on his back for support.

"You might wanna mind your own, Ichigo." Tatsuki points out sympathetically, addressing the younger Kurosaki brother. "Maybe this is too much excitement for you, Kaien. No offense but you've been lookin' like shit all day."

Kaien manages to straighten up, forcing out a shockingly weak smile and tapping his chest. Rukia notices beads of perspiration dotting his brow. Even his tone is trembling. "Nothing I haven't handled before. Not compared to getting hit by cars. Don't worry about this, I'll shake it off like always. You take care of Orihime, alright?"

"Yeah. Will do."

"We'll see you at school tomorrow." Ichigo bides them farewell with an insistent hand on Kaien's shoulder, guiding him away.

"See you tomorrow."

Rukia watches the whole exchange as the four abruptly go their separate ways after exchanging farewells. She frowns, eying the retreating twins' backs. As she does, she notices Ichigo's hand on his shoulder is less guidance and more physical support. Adding to that, more than a hint of an unsteady sway in Kaien's step and the way his frame shakes with another round of ragged coughs. By the time they turn out of view, Ichigo is practically the only thing holding his brother upright.

Pity, concern and sympathy takes root in her heart over the scene and once again, Rukia found herself torn. She knows its not her business nor place to ask, and she's already walking a fine line as it is but she can't help wondering what sort of malaise has afflicted the younger brother so terribly? Rukia had hoped to arrange times to begin mentoring Ichigo in how to manage his reiryoku but that subject will have to be postponed for latter.

With more questions to add to the pile, Rukia redirects her attention to the most immediate issue.

A Hollow is hounding that Orihime girl. She'll have to hunt and purify it before things turned nasty.

Chapter Text

"I swear it's all true! Every last bit of it!" Orihime Inoue presses, halfway through stuffing her face with a homemade bento box of... questionable composition, "A bigshot sumo wrestler smashed through my apartment wall with an assault rifle and shot up my living room last night!"

"What?" One of her friends says incredulously, rolling her eyes with a groan. "Get real Orihime."

The dismissive incredulity prompts Orihime to launch into another emphatic yet equally fantastical rendition of what she swears honestly, truly, super-duper double-dip, pinkie promises happened the night before. Receiving yet another round of ambivalent responses, Orihime pouts.

"Ignore her Orihime. I like your wild stories." Another girl encourages.

"It's not a story. It really happened!" Orihime swears vehemently, turning to her closest friend for support. "Isn't that right, Tatsuki? You were over last night, tell them about it."

Tatsuki hums, scratching her temple in thought before offering a helpless shrug. "Well, I remember something but…"

The gaggle of gossiping girls descend into youthful bickering, running their mouths over Orihime's protests and insistence.

Ichigo lowers his copy of Fellowship of the Ring to stare in open mouthed incredulity, thoroughly dumbfounded by the whole exchange. He couldn't help overhearing the whole tale, positively bewildered by the frankly whacky recounting of events which sound like they belonged to a Sunday morning comedy act.

Orihime has always been a whimsical and high spirited girl. That much Ichigo knew for certain from the minuscule interactions they'd had over their high school careers. Bit of an airhead, bit of a klutz (especially evident with that unfortunate car business yesterday), possessed of what can only charitably be described as a flexible interpretation of reality at times - but that story takes it to a whole new level.

And here I thought the ditz hurt her legs, not her head. Ya sure that bump didn't give her a concussion or brain damage or somethin' like that? Knock a few extra screws loose? Shiro's caustic tone chimes in the back of Ichigo's mind, as bewildered as his master.

I agree this is inordinate, even for her. I suspect there is something much more involved at play. Old man Zan muses in a rare break in his stoic silence. Perhaps Rukia Kuchiki might have-

"I had to modify her and her friend's memories." Rukia offers conversationally by way of explanation.

Ah.

Ichigo glances up at her approaching him, eating on a sandwich from the cafeteria. (Ichigo loaned her the money after giving her a quick rundown on human exchange rates. Seriously, for an otherworldly organization charged with protecting human souls, they are ridiculously behind the times. Ichigo would laugh at it, if it weren't so tragic.)

Both Zangetsu recede back into silence, as curious as Ichigo. When no further elaboration is forthcoming, he asks, "Okay, I'll bite. What exactly did you do?"

"A Hollow was tailing her." Rukia explains, crossing her arms over her chest. "You remember that accident she had yesterday?"

"Yes. That was yesterday."

Rukia ignores his sarcastic drawl, posing her next question. "Did you happen to notice the unusual pattern the bruise took as it was forming?"

Ichigo doesn't answer for a minute, brows drawing together in concentration. Now that he thinks back on it, something definitely felt off. He'd dismissed the lines as impact marks from the car's bumper. Then Ichigo had been distracted by Kaien's health episode and his focus shifted solely to his brother, ensuring they got home as fast as possible so Kaien could rest.

Whatever bizarre feeling he'd had at the back of his mind was discarded, buried by fraternal concern and duty. But upon reflection those bruises on Orihime's leg weren't uniform. They didn't match any bumper configuration Ichigo could think of. If anything, the lines were weirdly organic. Resembling the fingers of a monstrously large hand.

"That wasn't the car, was it?" Ichigo concludes, regarding the shinigami with a neutral expression. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew what the true culprit was.

"Correct." Satisfied she has his attention, Rukia continues her tutoring albeit in a more subdued tone. "A Hollow was tailing her. During the engagement I'd accidentally uncovered the identity of that Hollow, a careless blunder on my part. It was her brother."

"Damn." Ichigo mumbles in sympathy, slouching against the fence.

Orihime's own brother transformed into a Hollow? Pity wells in the pit of Ichigo's stomach for the poor, lost fool. He can't imagine what Orihime would've gone through if she'd ever discovered the elder brother she loved and idolized so preciously had been condemned to that miserable state in death.

For a fraction of a second, Ichigo's mind turns to his own brother. He wonders how he would react if one day, god forbid, he'd found Kaien had somehow suffered a similar fate. Not merely sharing the unexplained hollow taint Shiro possessed since before the day Ichigo first met the spirit at the tender age of six (or the surface-level dabbling he'd conducted on his own when he thinks Ichigo isn't paying attention), a full blown transformation; body and soul corrupted, mutated beyond recognition and mind buried in the abyss of madness.

If such a thing happened, would it fall to Ichigo to perform the deed? To purify his brother's twisted remnants like the other restless dead, and send him along to the Soul Society?

Stomach churning at the vile thought, Ichigo squeezes his eyes close and physically shakes his head to be free of it, chastising himself for daring to even think such a disgusting thing.

That will never happen. Ichigo swears fervently to himself.

Don't sweat, King. Anyone who wants ta take a bite out of fish boy will have ta get through us first. Ichigo allows a tiny smile at his spirit's reassurances and appreciates the ferocity hidden under the promise which echoes his own. He refocuses on the conversation at hand.

"So what, Sora saved her life just to eat her later? Or did some remnant of his humanity linger and he was still watching out for her?"

"Hard to say." Rukia says. "Hollows are beings who've lost their hearts to despair and act on instinct. We can't know exactly what motivates them individually, but they are driven to devour other souls to fill that empty void where their hearts used to be. It's possible Orihime's brother had two primary instincts; to protect her as a human being and to devour her as a hollow. It's possible the clash of these contradictory impulses allowed him to regain his sanity long enough for their farewell."

"Farewell? Wait a minute..." Ichigo begins as a horrible thought occurs. He turns his head to Rukia, appalled. "Don't tell that Orihime actually saw Sora like that?"

Rukia nods grimly then explains. "She managed to pacify him and I was able to cleanse him but I had to modify her and her friend's memory afterwards. Unfortunately memory modification is a roll of the dice. I had no way of knowing what her memory would be replaced with until she arrived at school this morning."

Ichigo slouches back, taking that in. That's certainly a loaded bit of information.

"Damn." He repeats. Pity wells in Ichigo's heart, feeling a mix of guilt and sympathy for the circumstance. "I guess it's a small mercy then, huh? From a certain point of view, I mean. If she managed to find absolution from her grief, and his too... but it's a shame, and frankly all kinds of messed up, that you had to replace her memory."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ichigo saw Rukia shifting uncomfortably. "That's our code. In order to protect our charges in this world we must ensure ordinary humans can go about their lives as peacefully and undisturbed as possible. Sometimes that requires us to modify certain things to ensure our presence goes unnoticed or erase it entirely if we must." She defends, then hesitates and a twinge of guilt colours her tone when she adds on her words, "Although I... admit I didn't really think about it that way. But you can't deny Orihime is weaving a colourful tale, isn't she?

Ichigo hums then shrugs, returning to his novel. "Nah, not really. Stick around long enough and you'll figure out that whimsy and quirky is Orihime's default. But... maybe she does remember saying goodbye on some subconscious level."

"What makes you say that?" That peaks Rukia's interest.

"Just a gut feeling..." Ichigo explains, he spares a momentary glance to the cluster of girls, pondering his next words. "She seems... lighter, I suppose, like she's carrying less baggage around. Remembered or not, the closure did her good."

"Hmm..." Rukia hums noncommittally. "Do you know her or her brother terribly well? Or did you, I should say."

Ichigo makes a contemplative sound in the back of his throat, looking up at the crystal blue sky for a minute. "Honestly? Not really. More a friend of a friend. What I do know is that a couple years back her brother died at our clinic. A bystander in some sort of motor accident, I think. It crushed Orihime to see him go - that type of thing would destroy anyone. But... I am glad she's managed to find peace with it in one way or another."

"We should all hope to be so lucky." Rukia murmurs under her breath with a curiously morose tone. Ichigo arches an eyebrow. He's half-tempted to enquire about her sudden dour spirit. After a few seconds of internal debate he ultimately decides to let it go.

A brief silence stretches on between the two, punctuated by the occasional page turn after Ichigo returns to his novel.

"Speaking of brothers..." Rukia fails to sound entirely casual when bringing up the elephant in the room.

"He's resting." Ichigo reveals absently. "Don't worry about it. He'll return to school in a couple days and go right back to being a massive pain in our necks like nothing happened."

Rukia absorbs this with a slow nod, chewing the inside of her cheek while she thinks. "Forgive me for asking, I know it's obviously a personal matter, but... does that sort of thing happen to him often?"

"I wouldn't look that far into it if I were you. Yesterday was just a bit too much excitement for him, that's all." Ichigo offers the weary cookie-cutter explanation by habit.

"Too much excitement?" Rukia echoes, leaping to point out the obvious contradiction. "If rendering assistance at an accident was too much excitement, then what do you call his participation in physically exhausting sports?"

"What can I say?" Ichigo shrugs helplessly. He pauses for a minute, mulling over his thoughts before continuing. "I, uh... I don't know if you have a concept of chronic illness in the Soul Society, but-"

"We do. Actually." Rukia interrupts, abruptly somber. "One of my superiors. He has a... similarly debilitating illness. There are times where he'd be unable to perform his duties for days on end."

"Ah." Ichigo nods his understanding. "Then I guess you already know that's how these damned things go. You're not gonna get rid of them any time soon, so you learn to live around them."

The novel falls into Ichigo's lap, he drags frustrated hand down his face with an exasperated side. "Unfortunately, my beloved baby brother is the biggest, most stubborn pain in the ass you'll ever meet when his mind's set, always to the detriment of his own health."

"I have that impression." Rukia admits, then adds a mild jest with a slight teasing smile, "I also have the impression that's an affliction you both share."

"Shut up." Ichigo grumbles.

The clinic is utter pandemonium, filled to bursting with patients in various states of injury. Close to two dozen by Ichigo's count. There's no telling how many more might be coming or if this is all they had to contend with.

Ichigo prays for the latter. They might be an emergency clinic but this is completely beyond their capacity to triage effectively. Poor Yuzu and Karin zooming back and forth like headless chooks in their nursing attire, lugging boxes full of bandages, gauzes, antiseptics and painkillers between makeshift triage stations and groaning patients serves as testament to that.

"What the heck happened here?" Ichigo mutters rhetorically to himself, navigating his way through the absolute mess.

"A car accident around the corner." Yuzu manages to blurt out between runs to the storage room and a huffed out welcome home.

Ichigo takes this on with an absent nod, weaving his way through the busy throng towards his father's office. Mentally cataloguing each and every patient along the way, Ichigo inwardly maps out who would need his help first by the time he manages to check in with his father. Even a half dozen paces away, he can hear Isshin shouting into the phone with that authoritative tone that brooks no argument. Ichigo's sympathies go out to the sorry sap on the other end of the line. Cautiously, he pokes his head inside to eavesdrop.

"We're a small clinic. We're not equipped to deal with a situation like this! Look, tell your boss it's Kurosaki asking! You hear that, Isshin Kurosaki. He'll find beds for me real quick!" Isshin snaps. With a huff, Isshin slams the receiver down, grumbling under his breath.

Hey boss, it's the guy who banged your adopted sister on the line. Got any spare beds?

Ichigo clears his throat to cover his snort from Shiro's words. He also ignores the old man's quiet exasperation at the remark.

Now's not the time to make such wisecracks, Ichigo mentally chastised the more chaotic spirit but otherwise didn't push it further. Especially when Isshin's head whips round at the sound to find Ichigo standing in the doorway.

"Hey dad. Anything I can do to-?"

"No." Isshin cuts off abruptly.

Ichigo winces. He wishes he could say he's surprised by the tone. For his part, Isshin seems to realize his error, stops, collects himself then starts again.

"We've got the situation well handled here. If you want to help, go inside and keep an eye on that idiot brother of yours. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid while he's supposed to be on bed rest."

"Do anything stupid. Pray tell, how am I supposed to stop him from acting like himself?" Ichigo questions sarcastically.

"When you figure that out, let me know." Isshin grumbles something else indecipherable, stalking out of his office to tend to another wounded man.

Ichigo rolls his eyes but honestly doesn't know why he expected anything else. Sighing quietly, he makes his way out of the main clinic and into the adjoining living space.

If there's one credit Ichigo can give to the clinic's construction, it's the insulation. He opens the door into the main living room and closes it behind him.

Immediately the pungent stench of antiseptics and groaning patients is replaced with the scent of cooking rice and seasoned meat sizzling away on the stove.

Ichigo found his twin brother easily enough. He's in the kitchen, dressed in the baggy faded blue shirt and dark knee-length shorts he'd adopted as sleep wear, all his attention on cooking the meal. His phone is set to one side of the counter blasting an album on loud speaker. It's a young pop idol he's been real into lately, Nami Tamaki, Ichigo thinks. A good songstress but his kid brother's on the verge of playing it to death, and Ichigo almost ready to scoop his eardrums out with a rusty spoon every time he hears it.

Obsessive tastes in music aside, Ichigo is pleased to see his skin tone has returned to its healthy tanned hue.

"Sup." Ichigo announces with a raised voice.

Kaien jumps, startled by his presence and reaches over to turn the music off. "Oh, hey. When you'd you get back?"

"Just now. You've been busy." Ichigo inclines his head towards the mess on the stove. He circles around the kitchen, peering into the stew pot where he sees potatoes, carrots and beef simmering away in stock. Admittedly, it smells damned good. "Nikujaga?"

"Yeah. Gone heavy on the beef. Figured with the excitement next door, everyone will be in the mood for something hearty once its over. Whatever isn't eaten tonight, we can portion out and take to lunch over the next couple days." Kaien says. "Why aren't you helping out with things clinic side?"

"I offered. I got shooed away." Ichigo says, folding his arms. "What about you? Wait, no. Don't tell me. Let me guess-"

"What are you doing here. You're a patient. You need your rest, young man. Go back to sleep, nyeh-nyeh-nyeh." Kaien mocks in a high-pitched nasally voice, then in his normal tone, "As if I could sleep with this awful racket going on anyway."

"Now you're making a mess in the kitchen. I thought dad told you to avoid stressful situations." Ichigo observes pointedly then snaps his fingers as an important thought occurs. "Oh hold on. I should go get the fire extinguisher. Need to be prepared in case the whole kitchen spontaneously combusts again."

Kaien's eyes just about roll right out of his skull. "Oh har-har... Since when do you listen to anything the man says anyway?" Kaien challenges with a crooked smirk.

Ichigo shrug nonchalantly. "Only when it's funny."

Kaien scowls at him for a couple seconds before returning to the stew, putting on an air of false offense. "Fine. Screw you then. You're not getting any dinner."

"Oh no. I won't be forced to suffer through your diabolical cooking experiments. What a nightmare. However shall I cope?" Ichigo oozes sarcasm, playing into their typical banter.

"You're a real pain in the butt. You know that, right?"

"Looked in a mirror lately?" Ichigo shoots back easily.

"Can't. Shattered the second after you did."

Ichigo places his hand on his twin's shoulder with exaggerated care, gleefully throwing his words back at him. "Kaien, we have the same face. You're literally insulting yourself."

Kaien eyes him, lips set in a crooked line and shrugs him off to focus on dinner. Ichigo can tell he's trying extraordinarily hard not to grin. "Brat."

"Twerp."

A moment of silence stretches. The mood palpably shifts when Ichigo goes to the dining table and takes a seat, keeping his gaze firmly on his brother's back. "Are you alright?"

"Chest hurts. But what else is new." Kaien reports flippantly.

"Yeah…" Ichigo imagines it would. He heaves another sigh, leaning on the table with his chin propped on his palm. "You know you were cutting it too close this time, right?"

Kaien groans, rolling his eyes and shoulders sagging, "Oh, for crying out loud. Don't you dare start with this garbage again." He warns.

"Why are you being so damn stubborn?" Ichigo presses, equal parts irritated and concerned. "You keep going on often and loudly about how much I'm allowed to rely on you, but when I ask you to do the same you reject it every turn."

"Forgive me for not enjoying the sensation of leeching off my brother like a bottom-feeding parasite." Kaien spits with a rare anger, a tiny fraction of the bitterness and vitriol he keeps well concealed bubbling to the surface. "I'd like to pretend I have some dignity in my life."

Ichigo pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a familiar frustration of his own. It seems they're due to have this age-old argument again. It only happens nearly every other week. "Kaien. We're brothers. It's our job to take care of each other. Yeah, the scales are tilted right now but-"

"I wanted to see if I could last longer this time." Kaien blurts out in a fit. "There. I said it. I figured if I was careful not exert myself too much, I could stretch things out. Why else do you think I haven't been using my powers lately?"

Ichigo's head drops to his chest, exasperated. "We've tried this before. Nothing changes. Using your powers or not, you still deteriorate." Ichigo counters, lips set in a grim line, "And it's getting worse."

Kaien looks like he's about to refute Ichigo but his words die on his tongue. Instead he focuses on dinner. He putters around for a few minutes, moving the stew pot to a backburner and clearing away the worst of the mess. Utensils and chopping boards get rinsed under running water. Its a distraction, a way to avoid actually addressing the cold hard truth of the matter at hand.

Satisfied with the kitchen (or unable to find anything else to fiddle with), Kaien makes his way to the living room table. He sits down next to Ichigo, looking more fatigued than ever. Not physical exhaustion, but emotional. His brother puts on a brave face for the benefit of their family, but those chinks in his armour are getting far easier to spot these days. Elbows on the table, Kaien closes his eyes and rests his forehead against his clasped hands.

"It'd been years. I thought I could…" Kaien trails off, shaking his head and lamenting quietly to himself, "But apparently not."

Ichigo glances to the table, feeling pathetically, woefully ill-equipped to help his brother through this turmoil. "Have you thought about talking to Rukia about it?"

"Exactly how do you imagine that conversation going, dear brother?" Kaien slumps back in the chair, no trace of his typical jocularity as he launches into the rhetorical discussion. "Hi Rukia, through a series of species-exclusive shenanigans, I had the Quincy part of my soul ripped out. By the way, Ichigo and I are Quincy, please ignore the fact we're technically racial enemies with an eon's old blood feud, the rest of me is fraying at the seams. Do you happen to know any quick fixes, cures or antidotes?"

Ichigo meets his twin's unimpressed expression and hesitantly nods. Yeah, it does sound incredibly stupid saying it out loud. "Just floating the idea. You're the one who wanted to ask her questions."

"Yeah, about my namesake. Not how to treat the aftermath of some narcissistic asshole's soul-sucking bullshit."

More uncomfortable silence stretches on. Ichigo reaches out, resting his arm over his brother's shoulder and draws him close in a half-hug, leaning his head against his brother's. A gesture Kaien returns. "We'll figure something out, little sun. I promise."

"I'm gonna hold you to that, little moon."

The childhood nicknames, given by their mother, is a comforting sentiment both given and returned. They remain in that half-lean, half-hug for a minute before parting. A much more companionable silence falls between the elder Kurosaki twins.

Unfortunately, the mutual comfort is short lived. Despite Ichigo's reassurance, they both know his promise is hollow.

They had seven years to think of a solution, a different method to staunch the wound in Kaien's spirit. The best they managed is a stopgap. One that's rapidly losing its effectiveness each time its employed.

The sad truth of the matter is neither of them really know where to start. Their mother taught them well enough, taught them to control their power and harness their capabilities to a degree for the little time she had to teach. But she mentioned nothing of treating spiritual aliments.

Their only living source of knowledge, their father, would staunchly deny anything to do with the spirit world. And to be completely frank, for all their father's talents as a human doctor, Kaien's affliction seems utterly beyond him. He probably thinks it's an exclusively human problem, a congenital heart defect as the hospital specialists diagnosed, an unfortunate genetic quirk inherited from their mortal lineage that Ichigo and the girls were fortunate enough to miss.

Well. Isshin's half-right there.

Maybe, their father believes Kaien might shed that particular human fragility when his powers come in earnest. A naïve hope, that. Provably false, too. But if that's what helps the old man sleep at night, who are they to shatter that illusion?

"Did I miss anything fun today?" Kaien asks, stepping right back into that mask of youthful cheer with great effort.

"Mm..." Ichigo muses quietly for a minute. "Chad headbutt a construction beam to protect a possessed parrot."

"Say what now?"

Chapter Text

Sado Yasutora wishes he could've offered apologies for his abrupt departure. Ichigo is his friend. His best friend, Chad would say. Kaien, too, to a lesser degree. Their family owned the clinic that tended him and Doctor Kurosaki treated him well, but Sado couldn't afford to stay.

Sado knows he's in terrible shape and should remain in bed a day or two longer but he can't afford to linger in one place.

Not with that spectral... thing on his heels. And it's not just Sado getting anymore either. Now others are being dragged into this twisted hunt, whomever crossing his path - or more specifically Shitaba's path - winds up getting hurt. The first time with the construction beam Sado dismissed as an accident. Some tired worker did a clumsy job of handling materials and the restraining harnesses came loose. When a second accident occurred yesterday morning with a motorbike, Sado started to sense something... off while carrying the poor man to hospital for treatment. He didn't know how he knew but he knew some malicious force was responsible. Something otherworldly, strange at that is to say out loud.

The third accident last evening cemented the theory. He's overheard that no one got killed in the accident on the corner but that's probably sheer fluke, one unlikely to repeat itself.

As soon as Sado regained consciousness in that dark patient room, he already decided to move on. In the wwee hours of the morning, he snatched up Yuichi Shitaba's bird cage and slipped out through the back door. He's been to Ichigo and Kaien's house enough times to know how to sneak out unseen. Admittedly his plan doesn't extend beyond getting away from densely populated area. Thankfully, Sado is intimately familiar with this part of town. After ten minutes investigating, he manages to find an out-of-the-way warehouse and take refuge there. It's chilly and cold. He finds a bit of construction tarp to throw over his shoulders to keep in the warmth. Shibata's cage is set down right next to him.

"Mister. You're in danger. Are you sure you'll be okay?" His companion asks not for the first time, full of worry and doubt.

"Don't worry, I'm fine." Sado reassures. "I promise I'm nothing if not sturdy, so... don't-"

A distinct creak sound cuts his words off. A second later, Sado has Shitaba's cage and dives out of the way, avoiding a collapsed section of roofing. It jars the wound on his back but Sado ignores it.

"It found us. We're leaving." Sado clutches the cage close to his chest and sprints through the warehouse, out the door and into the street.

"I'm sorry, Mister." Shitaba's tiny voice chirps.

"Don't worry." Sado repeats. "I promise I'll help you. And I promise I'll help save your mother too."

"Morning Ichigo. Morning Kaien." Yuzu's perky voice greets them as the brothers come down the stairs for breakfast, Ichigo dressed in his school uniform and Kaien in a casual shirt and pants. "Whoa, you're looking much better today! You've got your colour back."

"I feel heaps better, thanks." Kaien takes his usual seat, says quick grace and happily digs into his breakfast. He continues speaking with his mouth half full. "Dad's still keeping me home for another day in case I relapse. You know how paranoid he gets after my episodes."

Yuzu puffs out her cheeks in that too-adorable angry pout, fists on her hips. "You know dad's only trying to look out for you, you stubborn boy. Maybe if you took better care of yourself from time to time, and learned to take it easy once in a while, you wouldn't wind up having to spend a few extra days recovering in bed."

Kaien pauses halfway through inhaling his breakfast like its his last meal, rice bits stuck to his cheeks, staring at Yuzu for a good ten seconds before swallowing deliberately and giving his brother a sidelong glance, "Our baby sister is scolding me. Are you going to do anything to help me out here?"

"No, of course not. Do I look stupid to you?" Instantly regretting his poor choice of words, Ichigo snatches a bread roll at lightening speed and shoves it in his twin's open mouth before he could utter another word. "Don't you dare answer that."

The aforementioned twin's blue eyes sparkle with delightfully meanspirited mirth, huffing out a laugh.

"Suc' a f'ee tar'et." Ichigo manages to make out in between his twin's chewing. Seriously, one has to wonder where he got these atrocious table manners from because it sure as hell wasn't mum. Then again, by some small fortune, his lack of etiquette is nowhere near as bad as their father's.

Yuzu's erupting giggles cuts off any bickering before it really starts. That's when Ichigo finally cottons onto a certain absence.

"Hey, where's Karin?" Ichigo asks, glancing at her usual seat. He doesn't bother asking about their father. Isshin's probably got his nose buried in stacks upon stacks of medical charts, what with last night's influx of emergency patients. Odds are he's still negotiating transport to Karakura hospital for more thorough treatment, or arguing with supplies to restock their inventory.

A wave of concern creeps on Yuzu's face, "She didn't want to eat anything this morning. She's not feeling well. I'm actually kind of worried. She said she's not going to go to school either."

"Karin's sick? That's weird." Ichigo is floored. Karin's tough as nails, she rarely got sick, if ever. That girl had to have three of four limbs hanging by a thread before she ever considered admitting she needed to see a doctor.

"I'll keep an eye on her." Kaien volunteers.

"Are you sure?" Yuzu asks, eyes full of worry.

"Yeah." Kaien reassures with a kind smile. "Easier to keep an eye on the sick kids if they're hanging out in the same room."

Breakfast is interrupted when Isshin bursts into the room, exclaiming Chad escaped his room. Ichigo launches to his feet and is out the door with a phone pressed to his ear before any of them could spit.

Somewhere around midday Karin wakes with a ragged gasp, heart thudding against the wall of her chest and her clothes stuck to her skin with sweat. She barely manages to gain her bearings before her stomach churns violently. Bile rises in her throat and she almost trips, tangled by her own bedsheets, in her desperate dash to the bathroom and barely registering her big brother call after her.

Feverishly she barges into the bathroom, barely making it the toilet and slamming open the lid before throwing up into the bowl. Choking and shuddering and trying to block out the horror burned into her brain. The thing she sensed last night, the horror and sadness and tragedy and loneliness rolling off that poor boy trapped in the parakeet like tsunamis that would swallow her whole.

Karin retches some more, choking out ragged gasps between fits that sound closer to sobs, trying and failing to regain control of herself, trying to forget those horrid memories burning in her brain like a branding iron.

"Easy now," a gentle voice tells her while a warm hand rubs settles on her back, rubbing soothing circles and another gathers her hair out of her face. "Easy now. You'll be okay, big brother's got you. Take a deep breath when you can."

More half-chokes, half-sobs follow while Karin struggles to control herself, clinging to her brother's presence like a lifeline. It could've been an eternity or it could've been two minutes, but eventually Karin feels like she's done.

Kaien gently helps her sit against the wall and flushes the toilet. He fills up the plastic water cup by the sink and helps Karin rinse her mouth out, after that he dampens a hand towel under cold water to clean her face.

Then Kaien sits next down next to her, hands clasped around one raised knee. On impulse, Karin curls up to his side with her face buried in his side.

"Didn't think my cooking last night was that bad." He comments wryly.

Karin lets out a strained huff, quirking an equally strained smile that comes across more like a grimace. The thought of food right now is revolting.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Kaien offers gently, arm over her shoulder to hold her close.

Words failed her. How could she give voice to the nebulous and miasmic collection of thoughts whirling in her head right now? But Karin knows he'd understand. Kaien and Ichigo, they were both special in same yet unique ways. They could see things, they had the sight. Karin knows that it affects Kaien more than Ichigo; no matter what their dad says, no matter how hard they tried to cover it, her big brothers aren't anywhere near as subtle as they think. Karin knows that's why Kaien gets sick all the time.

It's just bad luck she inherited the same crappy 'feeling spirits makes me physically ill' version of their sight as Kaien, not the 'oh great, another buzzing fly' kind as Ichigo. Maybe that's why she's glad that between her two brothers he's here right now instead of Ichigo. The elder Kurosaki twins are nothing if not endlessly devoted to their younger sisters but Karin feels like with Kaien's own... unique circumstances, he'd empathize more.

"I... I saw it." As soon as Karin let those words slip, the first crack in a dam that shatters only seconds after, pent up pain and sorrow spills out in rushing waves. "I saw it all. It was a memory. A terrible horrible memory from the soul of that little boy in the parakeet yesterday. M-maybe its because we're close in age or something, but I could see it clear as day. Felt it flowing into my mind, like hot wires stabbing into my brain."

Somewhere in between her feverish deluge, Kaien pulled her into his lap and embraced her. "He - he saw his mother getting murdered. Right in front of him." The strong arms around tightening fractionally. Tears formed in the corner of Karin'ss eyes, spilling down her cheeks, her fists ball his shirt and she's pleading like a child, "Please Kaien. Please. You and Ichigo. You have to help him."

One of the hands on her back goes to her hair soothingly, Karin is openly weeping into his chest now. "He's so alone. Please, I'm begging you. You've got to help! You need to save him from that... that thing, that monster chasing him. You need to tell him if he goes to the other side, he can be with his mother again. Tell him he won't be alone anymore."

"Okay." Her elder brother leans down to kiss her crown. "I'll take care of it. I promise."

Karin doesn't remember much after that fit. She doesn't remember crying herself to sleep curled into her brother's side like a child, doesn't remember being carried back to a bed with a clean blanket drown over it. She doesn't know when her brother left her room with that cold look in eyes and his hands balled into fists, nor does she see the way a faint silvery light seems to gather of its own accord to the leather and seashell bracelet around his left wrist.

Shitaba hates this.

He hates how many people got hurt because of him. Hates that now it's Mr Sado and his classmates getting hurt trying to protect him. Now he's being held hostage to keep Mr Sado from helping the nice short lady with dark hair against the masked monster. That monster who used to be the human that killed his mummy.

Shitaba's trapped in his cage, surrounded by the blue-grey mutant frog which explode when the big monster wiggles his tongue. One wrong move and the cage and the poor bird Shitaba's sharing a body with will be blown to bits. Then the monster will come back after eating the nice lady, eat Mr Sado and shove Shitaba's spirit into yet another poor bird.

It wouldn't be the first time.

Shitaba wants to stop, truly he does. This twisted game has gone on long enough. But when he says as much to the monster, begging and pleading, another month is added to the time limit Shitaba has to endure before he can see mummy again. Tears fill his borrowed eyes at the thought. But he has to go on. Some part of him buried deep and wrapped in layers of denial knows that he's being tricked, that the promises are empty. But he has to keep going, if for a ghost of a chance that the monster might bring his mummy back after all.

They could've been stuck in the street for an hour, or maybe it was just five minutes. Mr Sado is stalwart, no doubt thinking of a way to help Shitaba out of this predicament despite literally being unable to see the things keeping him hostage.

"Chad! Man, I've been looking absolutely everywhere for you!" A jovial voice scolds teasingly, shattering the tension like glass.

The young man approaches from behind Mr Sado, dressed in a baggy navy shirt, jeans and sneakers. He saunters up to Mr Sado, casually as he pleased like he'd happened on a friend at the town plaza. "What made you think it was a good idea to run off in your condition? You know my dad's gonna give you an earful for that next time he sees you, right?"

"Kaien, what are you-?" Mr Sado blurts then shakes his head. "Nevermind, you have to leave. Right now." the giant presses.

"Leave? What the heck are you...?" The boy, Kaien, trails off when he glimpses the cage. Shitaba doesn't know how but he knows this new teenager, this Kaien, isn't looking at him. He's looking at the exploding frogs wrapped around the cage. Shitaba... senses it.

"Mister, please! You have to listen to Mr Sado. Get away! They're dangerous!" Shitaba chirps desperately, frantically flapping his possessed wings.

To his horror, Kaiendidn't move an inch. He merely cocks his head on side quizzically, like he couldn't understand what he was seeing.

"Chad, by any chance, do you... see those?" Kaien questions skeptically, circling a finger towards Shitaba's cage.

"I can see... something." Sado admits, his eye narrowing in concentration. "It's like a... a faint smear of shadow around Shitaba's cage. Three of them."

"Hmm." The boy hums, "And you're standing here by yourself because...?"

"The new girl said those... shadows would blow up the cage if I moved."

"Ah. Yeah, I can see how that'd be a problem."

"No, mister! Please, you have to leave! We'll be okay. I promise, just go! I don't want you to get hurt too." Shitaba screeches desperately but the teenager who looked so much Mr Sado's orange-haired twin from school simply offers a gentle smile. A disarming, reassuring expression that promised everything was going to be okay.

That's when something really weird happens. The beaded leather and seashell bracelet around his left wrist starts to glow faintly. The fingers of that hand flex and relax. Then there's his eyes. Kaien's eyes are, but for half a second Shitaba swears the whites of his eyes turn black with a sliver of haunting searing gold waiving through his irises. The mutant frogs tense, anticipating a threat, their muscles coil and Shitaba feels a core of dread. He knows what's coming. These foul things will spew their exploding leeches. Kaien will be killed by their attack and Shitaba will have another death on his young conscience.

Then he makes a sharp motion, like skipping a pebble across water.

One second the frogs lunge.

The next they're dead.

When Shitaba turns his tiny avian head to see, the trio of mutated frog monsters lay a distance away, crystal-like corkscrews skewering through their skulls. The frogs twitch but don't explode, laying there as impotently as damp firecrackers before disintegrating harmlessly into black dust. Those corkscrews linger for a couple seconds then lose their integrity, collapsing into harmless puddles of water.

"There. That's better." Kaien says, pointing back to the cage. "You can collect him now. It's safe."

"What did you do?" Sado questions, thoroughly bewildered, lifting Shitaba into his arms. His visible eye examined the puddles evaporating in the sun. "The water. Where did it come from? And the way it moved just now..."

Kaien shrugs, wearing that easy smile while fishing a phone out from his pocket and handing it to Sado. "You left this at the clinic, by the way. Be warned, Ichigo's been blowing you up with calls and texts for the last hour. Odds are he's probably gonna rake you over the coals for giving him a heart attack too. Can I trust you to keep Shitaba safe until I call?"

As if mere mention of the man was enough, Mr Sado's phone vibrates insistently with another call showing the name Ichigo on het caller ID. He ignores it, one arm clutched protectively around Shitaba's cage, "Yes, but... where are you going?"

Kaien throws a thumb over his shoulder, walking back the way he came. "I'm going to find Rukia. Make sure that adorable moron isn't getting herself into too much trouble."

Pain explodes across Rukia's back. More of those parasitic leeches slipping past her guard and detonating in a small cluster across her right leg and hip. Red blood weeps from the wounds, gluing the tattered remnants of her shihakushou to her skin. Rukia stumbles back right into a telephone pool that's serving as much as a trap as it is support right now.

A hand leaves Sode no Shirayuki's hilt to nurse her wounded side. She's breathing heavily, favouring her left leg while she considers her options. Every prospect is grim and she curses under her breath. It feels like she hasn't recovered any strength at all since her last face-off against a hollow..

This one, Shrieker, is as frustratingly cunning as he is vile with a vexing ability to generate small frog creatures with a penchant for exploding to the beat of that trilling tongue. The bombs should have been trivial for someone of Rukia's skill. Sode no Shirayuki could've easily frozen them into harmless icicles, but Rukia scarce had the power to remain in her shinigami form, let alone release her blade, she'd resorted to playing the most dangerous game of hopscotch of her career.

At the start of their twisted game of cat and mouse, Shrieker boasted that he'd already killed two shinigami attempting to guide the boy in the parakeet to Soul Society. After falling pray to the seemingly infinite amount of mobile bombs cunningly concealed in the terrain, Rukia can unfortunately believe it.

Vile, cruel and sadistic to the core. Hollows are known for these traits but Shrieker elevates them to a whole new level. Worse still, the arrogant bastard is still proud of it. And Rukia is certain she sustained cranial damage because at one point during their skirmish, she was distracted by another signature, sensing another hollow right where she'd left Chad. One that totally eclipsed her current opponent by orders of magnitude. But the feeling vanished almost as quick as it arose.

"My, my, my. Look at you, pretty little shinigami. So pretty covered in all that red. It becomes you." Shrieker cooed, its malice-filled yellow eyes narrowing into gleeful slits.

Rukia grits her teeth. She tastes blood on her mouth and barely has the strength to keep her grip on her sword. "Tell me," she sucks in more air, trying to buy herself time to think her way out of this situation, "What did you do to that boy?"

"That brat in the bird? Oh, did he never tell you about our little deal?" Shrieker howls out a vicious mocking laugh, "Did he never tell you about how I promised I'd bring his precious mummy back to life if he played along?"

Rukia's mind whirls in a mix of horror and incredulity, "You did what?!" she whispers, disgusted, "You claimed to bring his mother back to life if he followed your sick and twisted little game? How could he have believed yo-?"

"He wanted to believe me, you idiot!" Shrieker gloats gleefully, spreading his mutated limbs wide to encompass everything around them, mask tilted to the sky as reminisces.

"I killed the brat's mother back when I was still alive. I used to be famous serial killer. Had my name plastered every; TV, radio, newspapers - I was glorious. Never would've caught me either. Too quick, too smart and twenty steps ahead. I'd still be hunting today but turns out that kid's mother was my last score. Oh, she was a sweet tenacious thing. Stabbed her a dozen times - in the stomach, the arms, the legs - but she ran and ran, bleeding and grasping for life. Oh, she had spirit, that one. That spunk got the nethers all a-tinglin'. Even when she couldn't move anymore she still tried to protect that damn kid. I gave her a red smile, right here." Shrieker languidly, demonstratively, drags a single finger across his own throat.

"But that kid, that damned kid. I chased him onto the balcony but the little bastard set a trap. Managed trip me over the railing, twenty stories down. Really killed my moment. Suddenly I was dead, I was pissed and I wanted payback. So I sucked out that kid's soul and stuck it in the bird and made a bargain. Run for three months from me and I'd bring darling mama back to life."

Rukia feels white hot anger enveloping her soul, almost enough to override her sense of pain. "You promised the impossible." She sneers.

"Of course I did! I just said that to get the little chump to play along. And girl, did it work like a charm. I get the thrill of the hunt and the added bonus of chomping down on hapless souls like you. They die and the kid squeals like a pig 'Don't hurt them!' but then I sell the party line."

Rukia's gorge rises, listening to this disgusting tale,

"Mummy's waiting for you to save her. Don't forget her." Shrieker affects a faux sincerity that makes Rukia sick.

"And he's off, running again! Mama! Mama!" Shrieker mocks the boy's tone in a cruel laugh.

Rukia grits her teeth, desperate to dig down deep somewhere for a fresh wellspring of strength, to make this monster pay for his horrific deeds.

Shrieker looms closer, its haughty laughter rings like a mocking bell. Is this how she's going to die, then? The third ignoble victim to this sadist who-?

Rukia's thoughts and Shrieker's laughter are simultaneously cut off by a sickening sound, like a water skin bursting wide open.

Shrieker freezes, emitting a collection of tiny wet sounds like a finger slipping against glass. His disbelieving eyes tilt down to the claw sticking out of his stomach. It's... human in outline and size at least, but the skin is pitch black. The fingers are claw-like, tipped by razors made of an opalescent blue so bright they almost glow. Similarly coloured scales grow out of the black hide. The hand flexes once, twice, closes into a fist and wretches itself out.

Shrieker howls in pain, one hand pressed to his stomach, the other swinging wildly behind him. The owner of those claws catches it deftly, nails digging into the flesh. Rukia see exactly who her mysterious interloper is but she realises the hollow signature she felt earlier was no figment of her imagination.

An opportunistic attack, then? Does she have another foe to contend with in this condition? Or perhaps she could take this opportunity to escape and recuperate. Maybe find Ichigo for back-up to handle this new unidentified threat.

The wet sound of flesh tearing tells Rukia she's rapidly running out of time to flee. There's a snap of bones and Shrieker stumbles back in agony, blood splashing down the monster's side as he clutches his new stump, revealing the identity of his new aggressor.

Rukia's horror is obvious and her heart seizes. Kaien is standing there but markedly different. The clawed hand belongs to him. Both his arms are transformed from finger tip to elbow. But its his eyes that haunt Rukia and the reiatsu signature. Searing yellow on black, narrowed like a predator sizing up his pray.

When he spares her a glance, the sightless eyes of forty years ago superimposes itself on her vision and her heart thuds in her chest. Her adrenaline spikes, pushing her damaged body into fight or flight.

"Focus on healing yourself, Rukia. This won't take long." Kaien instructs casually, pulling Rukia from that spiralling path. He walks past her with no hint of hostility, those searing yellow eyes never once leaving Shrieker's mewling form.

However absently, Rukia can't help noting the dissimilarities. Clings to them like a lifeline. This isn't a monster attacking her, mocking her affections or twisting her mentor's body into an aberration to devour her. This is a... a person defending her. There's no malice. No twisted cruelty like any other being radiating that foul aura. Despite those haunting eyes, despite those mutated limbs, all Rukia sees is cool logic and silent human focus. Despite the abnormality of his flesh, the way his reiatsu has suddenly twisted, he's still acting... human. Impossibly, despite tapping into a hollow's somehow, he's retained a sense of self.

(Part of Rukia wonders if the events of that night chased him between lives, permanently altering the composition of his soul with a hollow taint. That his death at her hands wasn't a liberation as she'd selfishly hoped, but the final step to binding that corruption to him forever. Her hatred and self-loathing intensifies all over again.)

What follows after isn't a dual so much as a beatdown. Sheer stupefaction on all sides at the audacity of a seemingly ordinary human pummelling a Hollow senseless played a huge part in that, Rukia things. The disassembly is as swift as it is systematically ruthless. Shrieker is quite literally torn limb from limb with as much ease and disinterest as one would dismantle a simple woodblock puzzle. His other arm is the first to go, torn off in a wild retaliatory strike while the hollow spews strings of nonsensical curses. Then he's relieved of his legs one swipe at a time.

In no time at all Shrieker is on his back, bleeding from all four stumps, having been summarily relieved of his extremities. In a desperate late attempt to salvage his position, Shrieker thrust out his tongue. That trill would detonate any minions nearby, or he could swing it around like a flail or a whip. With a luck shot, he could -

Shrieker doesn't get a chance to consider his next move. Swift as lightening, Kaien seizes the tip of the tuning fork tongue in an iron grip, stretching the appendage taunt. His other hand, straight and knifelike, chops it in half.

Shrieker recoils back, writhing on the ground. Blood spilling from his damaged tongue like water from a hose. "Ah, you little bastard!"

"Actually my parents were quite happily married before they had me, thank you."

"Don't screw with me, you little punk! No human could physically move as fast as you just did! What the hell are you?!" Shrieker, well, shrieks through the howls of pain.

Kaien ignores the question, circling the hollow's body until he's standing over the beast's head and lists off.

"Stomach. Arms. Legs. Didn't go for the throat but your tongue will do." Kaien stares down Shrieker with those searing eyes, half-hooded by disinterest. "It's not usually my style to pick wings off gnats, but congrats. You pissed me off just enough to become the exception."

Shrieker attempts to roll on his back, but that's a difficult feat to accomplish without any limbs to use for leverage. "Y-You can't be human - You smell like one of us."

"You have no bombs, you can't move. You're completely at my mercy. Having fun, are we? Does this 'get the nethers tingling'?" Kaien asks conversationally.

"M-mercy! Please!" Shrieker flails frantically, helpless to do much more. He sounds pathetic as he begs. "Have a heart. Have mercy! I'll change. I promise! I won't hunt the kid anymore. I swear it on my life, just let me go!"

"Mmm. Nah."

Kaien's claws plunge into the hollow's mask at lightening speed, his fingers curl and with a swift jerk and grunt of effort, he splits the mask in twain. Shrieker huffs and screams in pain, like the top layer of his skin had been flayed off. In a sense it had.

That's when the ground rumbled.

Rukia's heard the stories about the gates of Hell, but did nothing compared to seeing them up close. Large obsidan gates, framed by two skeletal figures wrapped in chains emerged from the void.

To his credit (and further evidence of his very human sanity) Kaien practically leaps away, rushing toward Rukia to stand guard, in an ill-informed by well meaning gesture to protect her from whatever fiends lie beyond that gate.

Shrieker's howls of agony are abruptly cut short by the sword of a grand guardian of hell skewering his prone form through the abdomen like a diner stabbing a fork in a particularly juicy bit of meat, dragging the limb body into the demonic red realm beyond. The skeletal doors close with a resounding boom. Cracks crawl up its face, fracturing like a glass pane.

A few seconds silence pass, Kaien scans around before relaxing his combat stance. His lips purse and rests hands rest on his hips, seeming oblivious to his own claws.

"Okay. I'll bite. What the hell was that?"

Rukia can sense her eyes on him. She avoids looking at Kaien, avoids meeting that hollow (pun intended) gaze, squeezing her eyes shut from the intrusive memories of that horrific night decades ago. If Kaien had noticed her reaction, he didn't say anything. Or he dismissed her grimace as pain from her many wounds.

"Hell."

"As in-?"

"Hell."

"Kaien!" Kaien squeaks in fright, hastily hiding his claws behind his back when Ichigo shouts his name from across the street.

Rukia turns to find the elder Kurosaki brother marching towards them, absolutely thunderous. An equally bewildered looking Chad walking a more measured distance behind them. "Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Taking a walk." Kaien responds, Ichigo scowls at him. "An enthusiastic walk."

Ichigo's scowl deepens.

"In my defense, I was left unsupervised."

"Do I look like I'm in the mood for one of your stupid jokes?" Ichigo growls.

Kaien raises his hands helplessly, "Okay, enlighten me. What was I supposed to do? Let that piece of crap keep trying to blow Rukia to bits? You weren't here so I took matters into my own hands."

Ichigo scowls at him. Kaien challenges right back with a silent rebellious glare of his own. A few seconds stretch on and Ichigo breaks eye contact first.

"Put those away, won't you?" Ichigo orders, gesturing to his twin's scales.

Kaien flexes his fingers, closing his eyes while he inhales and exhales slowly, two heartbeats each. Then he shakes his hands out, like he's flicking off excess water. The claws are gone, fading into nothingness. The skin on his forearms returns to its normal tanned hue. Kaien exhales heavily once more, eyes closed and a hand pressed on his chest while he counts to steady his breathing.

"You good?"

"In a few minutes."

Rukia watches on, utterly bewildered by what she'd just witnessed. She was under the impression that Ichigo had request Kaien's absence in their bargain due to a lack of any power and his own generally poor health. Now, she's beginning to realise it wasn't a lack of power, so much as the kind of power he wields and the physical toil it appears to take on him. There's a lot there she needs to unpack.

"I didn't destroy it permanently, did I? The Hollow?" Kaien's tone conveys a kind of morbid curiosity. The remnants of the gates of hell recede into a pitch black void until nothing remains and the murky sky clears to reveal normal daylight. He continues to stare where the portal once stood.

"No." Rukia manages to collect herself, shaking off the discomfort from what she'd just witnessed and stumbling to her feet. "When a Hollow is purified, the sins of their afterlife are washed away. However we can do nothing for sins committed in life. That's for the Wardens of Hell to decide. He's a sinner now, condemned to spent eternity suffering in penance."

Rukia neglects to mention the act of purifying hollows requires a Zanpakutou and pointedly refuses to unpack those implications right now. Along with the implication of everything else she'd just witnessed in the last ten minutes. Nope. Absolutely not. Instead she's merely going to bury and repress real hard.

"Hmm."

"Would you have cared if you did?" Ichigo questions.

Kaien's gaze lowers, brows furrowed for a minute. He looks at his brother, shakes his head once. "Not really. He didn't confess to his crimes, he was boasting about what a monster he is. Was. Although if I'd destroyed him outright, that'd be the end of the road. On the other hand, if he's suffering in torment for all eternity, that's a cosmic retribution I can get behind."

Ichigo snorts. "You're a mean person when you want to be, you know that?"

Kaien shrugs again, unrepentant as he lists his reason off. "He made Karin cry, hurt Rukia and killed that poor kid and his mum. He deserves to rot in hell for any of those facts alone."

Ichigo recoils, eyes widening. "Karin?" He echoes then his expression hardens with a hum, nodding to himself. "Then I don't have to ask if you made it hurt."

Ichigo turns address to Rukia, moving to help her up. "That little boy in the parakeet, you can send his spirit on his way now, right?"

Rukia nods once. "Of course." She says.

"Are you going to be okay?" Kaien asks with genuine concern, but when Rukia flitches away in impulse from his attempt to help, she fails to ignore the hurt and the understanding on his face. "You're in pretty rough shape."

"I'll need a few days to recuperate, but I have enough energy to perform a konsou at least. Don't worry about that."

"Covered in blood and telling us not to worry. Something tells me you're a chronically terrible patient." Ichigo mutters.

Chapter Text

"The results are exactly the same as last time Miss Kuchiki. Everything's functioning in perfect working order." Kisuke Urahara announces, scrutinizing a handheld instrument.

Rukia bites her lip in barely concealed frustration. So much for that avenue. She'd he'd find something, anything to point to for her gigai's fluctuating performance. A logical point of failure she could identify and fix so that maybe, just maybe, it might actually do its job and assist in her healing.

Unfortunately, luck is in perilously short supply these days. Making matters worse, this cheap knock-off model is carrying an undetected defect that not even an exiled scientist can identify.

Right now, it feels like Rukia the punchline of a cosmic joke. Wasn't that the definitive summary of this assignment?

Displeased, Rukia exhales a sigh then returns to Urahara, rummaging around her borrowed light blue sundress pockets to withdraw a silver palm-sized dispenser of somafixer tablets. "If that's the case, I'll need these replenished too."

"I'll add it to your tab."

Slight hesitation creeps across Urahara's face while he stabs a few keys on his gadget. "Look, I know it's none of my business but you might want to take it easy on those soul boosters. Too much of that stuff gets toxic. You'll wind up doing more damage to yourself than any Hollow will. That's without getting into the risks of over-syncing with the interface. Keep this up and shedding that gigai's gonna feel like flaying yourself alive when you finally jump ship."

"Yes I'm aware." Rukia huffs out her annoyance, "But there aren't many options. I don't care what your instruments say, I swear this thing's hindering my recovery. Plus with the increased frequency of Hollow attacks, I barely have enough time to recuperate as it is. Each fight exacerbates my existing wounds and adds more to the tally. I've been actively healing myself with kaido when I have the surplus to spare but between attacks and overexerting myself, the life support system on this wretched flesh puppet is struggling to keep up. Eventually leaving it behind permanently might be my only resort."

"Maybe you're simply not used to it?" Urahara suggests. "Gigais are temperamental devices on a good day. Mastering one's use is purely a matter of time and patience."

"I don't intend to be here long enough to require mastering its use."

Rukia looks at her hand, flexing and closing her fingers experimentally. That subtle layer of static between her mental commands and the gigai is expanding. Before long it'll grow into an insurmountable gulf.

The boosters she's been taking have helped but its a band aid on a bullet wound. Plus, as Urahara rightly pointed out, too many of them makes it difficult for her to part from the thing easily when she needs to perform her duties. Like squeezing in and out of a uniform two sizes too small.

"I'd put forward an emergency request to the Research Institute but I'd be long gone before that request reaches anyone to approve it."

Urahara hums thoughtfully, the rim of his hat concealing his calculating eyes.

"That is a knotty problem. If I may be so bold to suggest a potential compromise; perhaps you should allow yourself time to recuperate. It's disadvantageous and I understand your desire for swift action, but why not make the most of the situation by leaning on those twins you've employed as, shall we say, local guides?" Urahara muses offhandedly.

Rukia shoots a hard look his way.

Urahara raises his hands in a placating manner, unbothered. "Or not. Merely a thought."

Rukia paces the shop floor, weighing her options. Eventually she laments none of her prospects look good. Guess she's stuck enduring this damned inconvenience with basic remedials.

"If I had my way they would've never been involved in the first place." Rukia grouses under her breath, folding her arms across her chest, "It shouldn't have happened. But I was distracted, careless outside their clinic."

"Be that as it may. I'm afraid that ship has well and truly sailed, Ms Kuchiki." Urahara reminds her, not unsympathetically. "I understand your reluctance to endanger the lives you've swore to protect but that die has been cast. The situation being what it is, you may as well use what help you have at your disposal."

Rukia ruminates on her thoughts. Her silence stretches on for a minute before not-so-idle curiosity gets the better of her. "What do you know of them? The twins, I mean."

"The Kurosaki brothers?" Urahara unfurls his fan with a soft clack and starts airing himself gently while he thinks, "Hmm. Nothing beyond what I hear on the streets I'm afraid. Attentive students, top 5% in their cohort. I know the younger one's a skilled athlete in the making, dedicated and eager. A bright friendly young man by all accounts. Prime Olympics material were it not for his unpredictable health."

Urahara's fan clacks shut and he taps it thoughtfully against his open palm thoughtfully, "As for the elder one; from what I gather he takes great pains to be the total opposite. I believe the best term to describe his temperament would be gloomy. Keeps to himself. Prefers to avoid being center stage and strikes me as being perfectly content allowing his brother to hold the spotlight. No great aspirations beyond taking care of his family and quietly living life one day at a time."

Rukia accepts this with a nod. That measures up relatively to her own impressions of the twins. Urahara goes on.

"Of course there's whispers. Rumour has it they occasionally attract their fair share of trouble from local delinquents and gangs. Nothing they haven't been able to handle on their own." Urahara leans forward, speaking with an exaggerated conspiratorial whisper. "Between the two of us, I doubt any ordinary human could give them much trouble."

Rukia's brows furrow, she demurs with a shake of her head. "No, that's not what I meant."

Urahara actually looks disappointed Rukia hadn't played along.

Rukia chews her lip while she collects her thoughts.

"Before I met them officially, they could see me. They could interact with me, carry me, tended to my wounds. I know on rare occasions a human can possess enough reiyoku to see spirits. Two of them together I could comfortably dismiss by the fact they're siblings. I've heard reiryoku can have a sympathetic resonance between family members but I'm noticing a peculiar trend in this town's inhabitants. Seems like a lot of people in this tone have a higher-than-average spiritual awareness."

"You've noticed that, have you? And you're curious to know if I have an explanation why that might be the case." Urahara accurately surmises.

"If you'd be willing to share." Rukia says, leaving him an opportunity to decline.

She'd prefer the old shopkeeper acquiesce. She has too many questions. Too many unknowns are piling up about this supposedly standard assignment and answers are in maddeningly short supply.

Urahara contemplates the matter.

"One plausible explanation does readily leap to mind." Urahara begins softly, gathering himself as though delivering a much simplified lecture. "As you may be aware, or you may not, Karakura town sits on what is effectively a burgeoning spiritual fault line. You might have come across the term jūreichi?"

"I remember that mentioned in my briefing packet." Rukia confirms.

Part of that addendum warned the density of ambient spirit particles would lead to a minor spike in Hollow activity compared to other regions. With the number of Hollows Rukia's seen over these past weeks and the rapidly growing frequency of emergences? Well, she doesn't have much experience in the world of the living but Rukia wonders her veteran colleagues would consider this level of activity minor. If so, she dreads to discover what's considered major.

Urahara proceeds with his explanation, "Places of high spiritual concentration such as this town don't just attract Hollows, it attracts all kinds of powerful individuals. Human or otherwise. Coinciding, humans born here and in similarly saturated regions absorb those burgeoning energies. It permeates their souls as a result, allowing them to develop heightened spiritual awareness at a much faster pace than humans born elsewhere."

Rukia nods slowly along, absorbing the information with a studious expression on her face.

"If it assists your understanding, think of this accelerated development as akin to an immune response, a body would naturally produce antibodies to fight off a foreign infection. Obviously, some humans are fortunate enough - or unfortunate, depending on your point of view - to develop a greater spiritual potentiality than others. In extremis, perhaps manifesting their own abilities."

"Carapace claws, shadow flames, enhanced strength and durability. Things of that nature?" Rukia lists in a not-so-rhetorical fashion.

"Any of those are possible. And more." Urahara concedes. "It's only natural, isn't it? A shinigami's power is unique to the individual. Similar in aspect to others, yes, but their abilities are entirely their own. When human souls with a significant amount of power crossover to the next realm, they have the potential to become shinigami themselves. Perhaps the powers they manifest in life are a minute precursor to what they'll gain in death if or when they're presented an asauchi to imprint on."

Urahara gets a knowing look in his eye, "Take the Kurosaki brothers for instance, to a lesser extent their sisters. Even without proper training, you can see the enormous potential they possess, can't you?"

"Hmm..." Rukia hums absently. She witnessed part of that 'potential' first hand.

Rukia forces herself not to think too much about that fight against Shrieker. Looking back on it only served to dredge up old, bitter memories by association. The kind she'd much prefer kept under lock and key.

(Rukia especially doesn't want to think about the implications of a living human can tap into hollow-adjacent powers; that it was this human in particular using those powers; that Ichigo was irritated more than surprised or perturbed by the demonstration; or that said human sent a Hollow to hell after tearing open its mask as easily as pulling apart wet tissue paper. Nope. Not at all. Nor does she want to consider how such a thing could be possible in he first place.)

Rukia frowns, wrestling a stray thought. Would it be appropriate to give voice to the thoughts plaguing her since the first day she laid eyes on the twins? Part of her says to air out the nebulous collection of worries and fears, to ease the burden. The other half is warning her off investigating the matter, reasoning it may lead her down road as uncomfortable as it is damning.

Musing a few seconds longer, and given the subject matter at hand, Rukia decides to throw caution to the wind. Perhaps now would be the perfect opportunity to vent some of her private misgivings. Nothing better than a hypothetical discussion on the nature of souls to provide plausible deniability?

"What about instances of reincarnation?"

Urahara arches an intrigued eyebrow.

When he says nothing else, Rukia elaborates.

"You said that spiritual fault lines like Karakura town naturally attract Hollows. Human souls born here express unique or enhanced qualities. What about departed souls, from either this world or the Soul Society?"

Urahara is silent for a long moment, choosing his next words carefully. "Without exception, we're all products of the cycle of reincarnation Ms Kuchiki. I'm certain you were taught that by rote during your days at the academy. However I believe I can ascertain true meaning. I'm quite curious. Pray tell, what prompted this sudden interest? And..." He hesitates briefly, "Before we pursue this conversation path any further, I trust you understand this topic veers into incredibly dangerous waters?"

"I'm aware. Consider it a matter of professional curiosity." Rukia says, working a quick, slightly exaggerated lie to cover herself, "I don't know the full extent of this phenomenon or how much it'll affect my duties beyond increased Hollow attacks. I want to know all I can, what dangers may emerge to properly prepare for it. Moreover, I don't want unnecessary harm to come to the brothers if they choose to continue helping me."

Urahara studies her intently. His expression unreadable.

For a half second there, Rukia thought he would reject her lie and send her on her way.

"First, allow me to offer reassurance in that the knowledge you're inquiring about isn't affected by the formation of a jūreichi. Hypothetically speaking, if that type of incident had occurred, it would be an example of correlation not causation."

"Unrelated then." Rukia confirms quietly to herself. "Please. Continue."

"Another thing you must understand is my own knowledge on the subject is limited. Nor is it a matter readily discussed for good reason. It is forbidden knowledge. Knowing it has very little impact on the challenges you'll face during the rest of your tenure, do you still wish to know?" Urahara offers gravely.

Rukia considers dropping the subject briefly, but ultimately shrugs a shoulder. "I've asked. I might as well listen to the answer, no matter how unpalatable."

"Unpalatable. That is a term for it I suppose." Urahara hums thoughtfully. "From my understanding and my own personal research; reincarnation as humans romanticise it - where the entity is reborn in a fresh life, the personality and memory of their former selves intact - is as rare as it is artificial in this world."

"Artificial?" Rukia echoes, flabbergasted. She hadn't been expecting that. "Someone actually manufactures it?"

"Exactly as I said, Ms Kuchiki. Of course it goes without saying it's highly illegal and extremely dangerous." Urahara tells her, he folds his fingers together in his lap with his eyes lowered to the ground as though speaking directly to it than Rukia. "The process have been considered taboo since ancient times. One so severe, requiring a character of such depravity, if Central 46 catches so much as a whiff of rumour about it, they will round up and execute all they perceive involved - no matter how tangentially related."

Rukia is aghast, failing to quash the core of anxiety in her stomach. "That bad?"

Urahara makes an affirming sound in his throat. "The process trespasses upon the sanctity of the soul. It's a perversion of the natural cycle of life and death that shinigami are oath sworn to uphold. Would you not feel the need to set an example if someone were attempting to disrupt the very premise upon which your whole existence is built? I shouldn't need to remind you that historically speaking the Seireitei has gone to war for far less."

"In that sense, I suppose I understand." Rukia reluctantly concurs, pointedly sets aside thoughts of the Gotei 13's unsavoury aspects.

"In the perilously rare occurrences I've discovered in my research, the ritual fails more often than not. As a result, the soul is utterly destroyed during or shortly after. A final end."

It's revolting to imagine. Rukia's stomach twists into horrifying knots. "To think people would actually do that."

Urahara tilts his head. "You're surprised? Even the gods of death fear death. You think there aren't countless individuals within the Seireitei alone who'd gleefully leap at the opportunity to extend their life, had they the guarantee of success?"

Rukia doesn't refute the point. She admits to being cordoned off from the worst the nobility, but the uproar her adoption by the Kuchiki generated was enough to know exactly how depraved these people are.

"How does it violate the sanctity of the soul?"

"Because it requires one to sunder their own soul and the mutilation of their zanpakutou." Urahara reveals neutrally. "That sundered fragment is subsequently sent off to the reincarnation cycle with enough energy to sustain itself for one life. Which is my delicate way of saying it's slaughtered by its donor. Whether that action is required for the ritual or something else entirely, I cannot say."

Rukia's mouth drops in open horror. She regrets asking but a terrible fascination keeps her rapt attention.

Urahara shifts uncomfortably. For all his below board dealings, its a subject even he is disinclined to expand on too much. "The term for such a misfortunate creature is hakkyō. Think of them as a clone. No, a castoff. A bit of flotsam sent down the river. Security for when the inevitable occurs."

Rukia arches an eyebrow, "The phenomenon is rare enough that you couldn't find much information on it, but not so rare it hasn't been given a name?"

Urahara waves a dismissive hand. "It's not an official term. More a loosely agreed upon descriptor coined by those who would denounce the practice and punish those who'd perform it."

Rukia's stomach turns, she swallows a lump in her throat. "You said the zanpakutou is mutilated as well?"

"Mmm. There's precious little details about that aspect I'm afraid. Perhaps that's for the best. The only evidence I could find indicates whatever's done to the zanpakutou spirit being a critical component to success."

Urahara heaves a wary sigh. A tone that would've surprised Rukia had she not been distracted. "A hakkyō is reborn and matures, but a tenuous connection remains between the severed halves through the mutilated zanpakutou spirit. When the donor's physical body dies, the rest of their soul snaps back to the hakkyō like an elastic band, subsequently overpowering the fragment's weaker persona to assume control of that new vessel, effectively cheating death."

"That's..."

"Dreadful, yes?"

Rukia shakes her head, struggling to digest that information. "What becomes of the hakkyō then? You said it lives its own life. What becomes of them when the... original takes over?"

"Erased, I would imagine. Consumed by the former personality." Urahara reveals clinically to disguise his own discomfort on the matter, "Which, as I'm sure you can understand, is yet another reason why the ritual is so reviled. Why only the most morally repugnant individuals dare attempt it, despite great risk to their own souls. Imagine a man of unspeakable cruelty succeeding in this profane process, but the hakkyō he creates is raised in a nurturing environment, in-turn becoming a great contributor to society. The cruel man's body dies and his soul inhabits his hakkyō's vessel, erasing the personality entirely and destroying everything his cast-off built."

"That's an atrocity."

"Indeed." Urahara shakes his head slightly. Rukia even detects a hint of pity in his tone. "The sad truth is, no matter how you look at it, a hakkyō is doomed existence. If not erased by their former personality in the course of fulfilling their purpose, they live to twenty, perhaps twenty-five years at most, by my estimates. After that, their spiritual composition breaks down."

The expression Urahara wears is grim, "The soul fragment will be unable to sustain itself past that point and disintegrate. Unstable and volatile, there wouldn't be enough left to so much as return to the reincarnation cycle. In practical terms, it would be a final end. Further cementing why this concept runs fundamentally counter to what the shinigami creed stands for in the preservation of souls."

"Who would-" Rukia shakes her head uncomprehendingly, feeling sick. "How - what kind of person would even discover how to perform something like this?"

"The kind who wouldn't bat an eye at the most abhorrent of deeds." Urahara replies.

Rukia's shadowed eyes lower.

"I almost regret asking." She murmurs.

"As you said before, Mr Kuchiki. It is an unpalatable subject." Urahara concedes, "But if you might indulge me with a question in turn; what brought this subject up? Do you suspect some foul hands at work?"

Rukia doesn't answer for a long time. Eventually she shakes her head.

"No. After what you just told me, it's impossible." She clears her throat loudly, forcefully composing herself with a deep breath and quashing her palpable discomfort.

"I'll take my shopping items, if you please." She announces abruptly, haughtily.

Urahara says nothing further, climbing to his feet and heading to the back room to retrieve Rukia's articles. He returns two minutes later with a small plastic bag to hand to her with a thin paper receipt. "If that's all, Miss Kuchiki."

Rukia turns abruptly to head out, eager to be alone with her thoughts. But she stops, distracting herself by picking at the shopping bag in her hand.

"One last question if you're be willing." She's surprised by the sound of her own voice.

"Ask and we'll see what I'm willing to share." Urahara answers.

Rukia wavers. She thinks, then before blurts it out. "Do you know if its possible for someone to create a hakkyō from a person whose already dead?"

Urahara ponders the query, brow furrowing in thought then gives a single shake of his head. "No. For a hakkyō to serve its purpose correctly requires the donor soul to be alive, or at the very least preserved in some fashion. Otherwise the soul fragments will either be destroyed or the two pieces would snap back together and enter the reincarnation cycle as normal - both possibilities render the whole process moot."

"Is that so." Rukia mumbles.

Urahara studies her carefully. "Are there any other questions, Ms Kuchiki?"

Rukia shakes her head slowly. "I think you've been more than generous with your answers already."

Urahara bows his head politely in farewell. "Until next time, Ms Kuchiki."

Chapter Text

"Don't waste your time daydreaming, you silly girl." Tatsuki cajoles, hands on her hips with brightness in her eyes.

Orihime blinking as though knocked out of trance, smiling at her best friend. "Oh, I'm sorry Tatsuki. Just thinking."

"Thinking, you say?" Tatsuki repeats, continuing their stroll to school with a belly full of breakfast.

They're met up early to try out this cute new breakfast café that opened just around the corner, about two block's walk from school. For the price, the food and service were excellent! Even after unplanned second helpings, Tatsuki and Orihime still have plenty of time to get to homeroom before the morning bell.

Tatsuki leans close as though sharing a private conspiracy, "Thinking about Ichigo again, are we?"

She suppresses her urge to grin when Orihime splutters. Right on the money as usual. Tatsuki loves Orihime to bits but she'd be terrible at cards with that poker face.

"Uuh! No, I'm not!"

"Uh huh." Tatsuki answers, unconvinced. Then her smile falters and her lips press in a line.

"What's so great about him anyway?" Tatsuki drawls. She has to admit she doesn't know what Orihime would find in him. To Tatsuki, Ichigo will always be that little crybaby who clings to his mother's dress every time Tatsuki knocked him on his butt at the dojo. "His hair looks like he shoved a fork in an electrical socket, he's rude, immature, short-tempered-"

"His face is funny." Orihime supplies cheerfully, interrupting Tatsuki mid-rant.

Orihime beams as though this were the most obvious answer in the whole world, her eyes stare off into the distance and Tatsuki knows that look too well. Whatever kooky thoughts run through that brain of hers makes Orihime dissolve into a fit of giggling.

Tatsuki pulls a dismayed face, "You couldn't have lit a candle for Kaien instead? You know, the normal twin?"

Which is probably the burning question everyone in their clique wants to ask.

The Kurosaki brothers are about as opposite as night and day. Kaien's always been the friendly brother, the approachable brother. All bright smiles and beaming grins, jovial and in perpetually high spirits. Tatsuki thinks he enjoys being the life of the party in spite, or perhaps because of his illness.

Though Tatsuki wouldn't go so far as to describe Kaien as particularly sane by any normal definition. She's been over the Kurosaki household enough times growing up to know Kaien inherited some of Doctor Kurosaki's eccentric proclivities. He's probably best described as the comfortable middle step between Doctor Kurosaki's madness and Ichigo's straight-laced sufferance. Enough of that mischievous spark to fit right in but enough self-awareness to avoid taking the jokes to cringe-inducing extremes.

By contrast, Ichigo's a crate of sour grapes and with all the humour of a plank. Foul tempered and moody, abrupt to the point of rude, stubborn, prickly with an expression locked in a permanent scowl, and - well, Tatsuki could go on and on about Ichigo's flaws. Yeah, he's got some good points or two. No one can doubt he cares for his sibling, no matter how much they drive each other up the wall.

Though when Kaien's health flares, Tatsuki always notices the threads of anger weaving its way through the concern and worry in Ichigo's expression.

No one enjoys seeing a family member sick, especially not when it's one so close to the heart and you know there's nothing you can do to help, but sometimes Tatsuki wonders if Ichigo resents Kaien for his condition. Or at the very least, feels frustrated by his younger twin's frequent episodes forcing Ichigo to put his own life on hold. He would never complain, of course. Ichigo's just not the type. He bares the duty as grimly as a guy like him can and nothing owns the Kurosaki brothers' devotion as much as each other, but still... Tatsuki wonders.

In their long drifting friendship, Tatsuki can pinpoint exactly when those episodes started. They were barely scraping nine, the three of them were as rambunctious as any child their age. Ichigo had still been a crybaby whose grin could light up the room and Kaien was the same... well, if you replaced the cry baby stuff with a reckless abandon coupled to an astonishing lack of self-preservation instincts.

All of that changed the day Masaki Kurosaki died. The brothers loved and adored the woman, and Tatsuki had heard of people dying of broken hearts. How grief could manifest as a physical condition. Maybe Kaien took the death of their mother just as hard as Ichigo did, albeit manifested in a different way.

Tatsuki shakes her head, liberating herself from that runaway spiral.

"At least we know that water-loving doofus knows how to smile and crack a joke once in a while." Tatsuki points out.

"Ichigo smiles too. Sometimes." Orihime observes pointedly.

Sometimes. Tatsuki mentally concedes.

Those aren't genuine smiles, filled with a happiness that reaches his eyes. Those tend to be mean-spirited, usually in service to some sort of revenge prank against his younger twin, or enjoying a particularly juicy bit of schadenfreude happening to some idiot who well and truly deserves it.

Ichigo's smiles - his true smiles - died seven years ago.

"I suppose I could fall for Kaien. They do have the same face..." Orihime puts a musing finger to her lip while she thinks, then flashes a smile that Tatsuki thinks is a bit too conniving for her sweet disposition. "But from what I hear, I think he has a crush on someone else Tatsuki."

Tatsuki huffs, a light blush colouring her cheeks. She grumbling low under her breath. "Maybe if he grew a pair and actually asked me out."

Orihime jerks back in shock. "I was talking about Rukia."

"Huh?" Tatsuki blurts wrong-footed and embarrassed, and a bizarre protectiveness curling in her gut. "What about Rukia?"

Orihime holds up a finger.

"Haven't you noticed those two spending a lot of time with her lately? It's not just in class. I've seen them hanging around outside school too." Orihime leans in, adopted that conspiratorial tone again while weaving into her whimsical tale, "If you ask me, I say the twins are in rampant competition trying to win her love and affection! It makes perfect sense! Their brotherly rivalry extends beyond mere academics and sports, they seek the same fair maiden's heart. They're not just rivals, they're love rivals! Livels!"

Tatsuki look at her triumphant expression like she's grown a second head, then exhales a heavy sigh. Overactive imaginations strike again. Tatsuki demurs with a shake of the head.

Then Orihime perks up, seemingly cottoning on, "Wait, what was that you said earlier?"

"Nothing." Tatsuki dismisses too loudly and too hastily to be entirely convincing, heaving her schoolbag over her shoulder and her other hand on Orihime's back to hurry her along. "Come on. Lets go. We'll be late for class if we don't hurry up."

"Wait, no - Tatsuki! I want to talk about this-!" Orihime protests.

Tatsuki regrets she ever said anything. "Later! We'll be late for class."

"What?!" Keigo slams his hands down on Kaien's desk, playing up his dismay for comic effect and leaning far too close for Kaien's comfort. "You came second?! What the hell?! I believed in you man!"

"What can I say? The other guy just wanted it more." Kaien offers.

"No, no, no, no!" Keigo rapid fires, shaking his head and wagging his finger like scolding a misbehaving child. Once again, he slams his hands down on Kaien's desk. "I demand a do-over! There's no way on this planet that you would've lost!" Keigo explodes, half-ready to march right up to the nearest officiant he could find to badger until their ears bled.

Mizuiro glances up from his phone to shoot Kaien a quiet 'now you've done it' look. Ichigo on the other hand is perfectly content watching the spectacle play out over the edge of his novel.

"Keigo, as much as I appreciate the gesture I wasn't sick. Just plain human error." Kaien shrugs with a benign 'what can you do' smile. "I made my last turn about a second too early. Couldn't kick off the wall hard enough to make up the difference and the other guy got ahead of me."

"Oh." Keigo deflates.

"Amateur hour." Mizuiro chips in.

"Someone got greedy." Ichigo admonishes lightly. "You saw the finish line and thought you had it in the bag. Then you mucked it up."

Kaien heaves a sigh, sparing his brother an unamused glance. Ichigo's mocking smirk grew wider and Kaien shakes his head, idly fiddling with leather band around his left wrist. "Yeah, yeah. I mucked it up. Does it suck I lost? Yes. Did the other guy won fair and square? Also yes. Sure it stings but you can't say I didn't give him a good run for his money either."

"I guess so." Keigo pouts, slumping back in his own chair.

"Of course, good luck trying to get that fact through Saito's thick skull." Ichigo chimes in. Kaien groans, head dropping to his chest.

"Saito? Aoi Saito from Class 1-2?" Mizuiro arches an eyebrow. "Come to think of it, when I saw him this morning he did seem a bit more-"

"Asshole-ish?" Ichigo supplies grumpily.

"Ichigo, drop it." Kaien orders but he goes ignored.

"I would've chosen a less colourful turn of phrase." Mizuiro agrees.

"Ugh. You think his prissy attitude's bad today, should've heard the colourful crap he was spewing yesterday," Ichigo complains bitter, "There's poor sportsmanship and there's being a colossal douchebag. I was all the way up in the rafters with Dad and our sisters, and we heard his tirade from there. Even the old man was getting ready to throw hands."

Kaien winces, shooting his elder twin an apologetic look. "Yeah, he's like that sometimes. Unfortunately. Guy's got issues. Sticks and stones, Ichigo."

"And one of these days, I might just use sticks and stones to beat that spoilt brat's ass." Ichigo grouses.

"And I keep telling you he's a bag of hot air, nothing more. Saito whines because he's in love with the sound of his own voice." Kaien dismisses with a wave of his hand, "If you give the guy a briefcase full of money, he'd complain about the weight. That's just the personality type he has. Besides, there's a million better things to waste your energy on."

Keigo pulls a face. "You might not have won the gold but you still broke the national record by a whole two seconds. You're not just the second fastest swimmer in the country! You're the second fastest swimmer in history. He can't be happy about that?"

"Recorded history." Mizuiro interjects breezily, "Which, for that competition, dates back about twenty two years."

Keigo waves his arms around dismissively, "Who cares about the minor details. Besides, twenty two years is still longer than we've been alive! It deserves all the boasting in the world!"

"Yeah, Dad was crowing about that the entire train trip back home." Kaien mutters.

Mizuiro arches an eyebrow at the abrupt change in tone.

"Why do I detect a mild hint of annoyance?" Mizuiro interjects wryly, a thin smile on his lips.

"Don't mind him. He's still mad I managed to prank him after dinner last night." Ichigo confesses smugly.

"That wasn't funny." Kaien scolds his twin, shaking his head admonishingly even as a smile lights up his face and trickle of laughter enters his tone.

"It was from where I was sitting." Ichigo remains completely flippant and unrepentant.

"What did you do?" Keigo asks.

Ichigo puts his book down. "Last night, after the medals were all handed out and someone took a shower, Dad decided to take us to some restaurant to celebrate. Can't remember the name of the place, some seafood joint with a comic octopus mascot."

"Which I ignored because it was all-you-can-eat buffet, soda was free-flow and after a big day I was starving." Kaien interjects, pouting.

"Why would you need to ignore that?" Kegio questions dumbly.

"Because, Keigo, my darling baby brother-" Ichigo exaggerates the word- "-is chapodiphobic."

"Ah." Mizuiro says knowingly.

Keigo stares blankly, confused.

Kaien grumbles, pointedly looking away to avoid anyone seeing that embarrassed flush on his cheeks. "Must you?"

"Yes, I must." Ichigo clearly enjoys having his younger twin on the backfoot for once. "And when we finally ordered dessert, I convinced Kaien to order the house special. What he neglected to read was the homemade chocolate ice-cream and cake would be presented in the shape of the resturant mascot."

Ichigo snickers meanly when Kaien, still looking away, flips him off. "I ordered dessert, you butthead. Not a fright."

"So what? You're allergic or something." Keigo questions.

"I'm not allergic. I just freaking hate octopi. I despise the concept of their existence with the fiery passion of a thousand sons."

"Lyrical turn of phrase." Mizuiro teases.

"Only a thousand?" Ichigo mocks. Having had enough, Kaien finally reaches over and thumps Ichigo's arm for that one.

Keigo on the other hand starts cracking up. "Y-you're kidding! You, practically a fish yourself, are scared of little old octopus?"

"Look, listen to me. Okay? Evolution does not have a plan; it makes frequent and catastrophic mistakes. And the octopus is one of its most horrible botch jobs." Kaien declares emphatically.

Keigo finally barks out a laugh. Even Mizuiro couldn't resist a smirk of his own.

"Oh god, here he goes." Ichigo smirks, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Kaien ignores his brother. "You couldn't pay me all the money on this planet, or any other, to eat anything even vaguely shaped like one of those god-forsaken bottom feeders. They are vile, repellent belches of nature that should be snuffed out from existence."

Keigo grins, laughter still in his voice. "Gez buddy. Don't hold back; tell us how you really feel."

Kaien looks at him with the utmost gravity. "There are not enough hours in the day nor words in the spoken lexicon."

"Don't use big words, Kaien. I doubt Keigo even knows what they mean." Mizuiro mocks.

That promptly knocks the wind out of Keigo's sails. "Oh har-har, Mizuiro."

Kaien snickers but someone skipping cheerily past the classroom door catching his attention.

It's Rukia... but chirpy. Horribly, creepily chirpy.

"Hmm. Looks like Rukia's in a good mood today. Wonder what happened?" Keigo comments offhandedly before launching into his next miscellaneous line of conversation.

The Kurosaki brothers exchange perturbed glances, equally as disturbed by the uncharacteristically cheery demeanour and the way Rukia's humming childishly to herself. Ichigo quickly excuses himself and walks out the classroom.

Kaien waits maybe two minutes, worry etched on his face, before hurrying after them.

Imbeciles. Total, utter imbeciles.

Rukia couldn't believe. First a lousy gigai, now its her gikon causing her problems.

Chappy is adorable and cute and Rukia absolutely loves the thing to bits. But somehow, leaving the gikon to take her place in school today ended with Ichigo, Kaien and her gigai in the nurse's office. Ichigo sports a ripe new black eye while Kaien is sitting in a chair, icebag on his lap. Both of them glare murderously at the proud, beaming Chappy while Rukia explains the situation. Then with some trepidation, Rukia enters the gigai again.

That cramped static-y sensation is back with a vengeance, but Rukia isn't able to dwell on it for long.

"First fake bodies. Now fake souls." Kaien is pushes out through pain-gritted teeth. "Congrats Soul Society. You've graduated from super creepy to downright morally repugnant."

"At this point why not just admit they're plagiarizing Mary Shelley's Frankenstein." Ichigo mutters.

"Hah!" Kaien bark peevishly, "Or Lovecraft."

Rukia folds her arms, "Look, I'm sorry for what happened. Regardless, It's standard procedure for Shinigami to use gikon to take care of their gigai while they're on hunting hollows. It's perfectly safe. No one was hurt."

Ichigo glowers at her, gesturing emphatically to his black eye.

"No one was hurt badly." Rukia amends awkwardly.

"She kicked me in the nuts!" Kaien half-screeches from his chair.

"No one was maimed." Rukia corrects hastily.

"Why is that even a bar?!" Ichigo demands incredulously.

"You could've told us what you'd planned. Instead of letting your little pet fake soul thing go all psycho on us." Kaien grouses, shifting then wincing at the pain. Rukia thinks she can spot the tears from here.

She grimaces. "Okay, yes. In hindsight, I could've informed you about what I was doing. But my orders were urgent and I didn't have time to tell you I was going. I'd asked Chappy to keep you two occupied while I'd completed my investigation."

"And what part of keeping us occupied involved a seventy pound runt beating the crap out of us?" Ichigo snaps.

Rukia raises her hands defensively, "I should've been more specific in my instructions. Unfortunately, it seems gikon may take orders a bit too literally. That's a fact I legitimately didn't know."

"A bit?!" Kaien echoes.

"Look," Ichigo pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling and exhaling through tightly clenched teeth in an attempt to maintain his calm. "If you're going to pull this kind of nonsense, could you please tell us first. That way we know we'll have to cover for a bunny-obsessed toddler on a sugar high?"

Rukia folds her arms and gives Ichigo a displeased look.

"That's different from usual how, exactly?"

THWACK! THWACK!

Rukia turns about face and stalks off with her head held high, parting with a stiff regal, "I'll see you both at school tomorrow."

The twins glare after her, identical lumps forming on their heads. Ichigo's fingers curl into fist while his eye twitches. Kaien inhales sharply through his nose.

"Can I strangle her?"

"Not in public."

Chapter Text

"But I wanna go with you."

Masaki exhales a quiet sigh of fond exasperation, turning to address the shadow that's been trailing her the last five minutes. There's a karate tournament at Ichigo's dojo today and the skies decided to grace Karakura with their displeasure in the form of an unseasonable rainstorm. That inconvenient tidbit did not seem to dissuade her second son in the slightest.

Kaien's pleading blue eyes would've been irresistibly adorable, doubtless his father would crumbled like a house of cards under that gaze, had it not been for the bleariness and the irritated red nose of a cold painting a totally miserable image.

The poor boy's shivering, snuffling, trying extremely hard not to cough up half a lung every few minutes and generally looking like death warmed over. Plus the fact he's wearing a winter weight jumper in the middle of July and has the lounge's throw rug pulled extra tight around his shoulders.

One or both of the girls brought home a childhood cold from pre-school, which promptly burned through the Kurosaki household like a wild fire. Just when they thought Kaien had escaped their fate, the cold hit him last and by far the worst of the entire family. Masaki knows Ichigo teases him about it behind closed doors.

"Kaien, no. I won't repeat myself again." Masaki remains firm but not unkind. "You're not well and it's bucketing rain outside. We don't want this stubborn bug turning into pneumonia now, do we?"

Kaien's visibly slumps, wearing a defeated pout. "No, mama."

"That's what I thought." Masaki steers her sick boy back to the living room and parks him on the lounge. Without prompting, Kaien lays his head down on the cushion and curls into a ball, hugging his old manta ray plushie close to his chest. Masaki tucks the throw rug under his chin.

"Oh, poor sweet thing." Masaki runs her fingers through his hair soothingly. Kaien struggles between pouting sourly and weak giggles. The twins visited the barber last week and the new growth is still soft, fluffy and quite ticklish. "A nice steamy shower and early bed for you tonight, I think."

Kaien sneezes, swinging right back to drowning in misery. Eventually he croaks out a pathetic "Uh huh."

Masaki holds a tissue to his face, helping him blow his nose.

"Hate being sick." Kaien murmurs.

"I know, love. I know." Masaki retreats to the kitchen. A minute later she returns with a plastic measuring cup filled with cough syrup. Kaien grimaces but obediently drinks the bitter medicine. "Look on the bright side, you're over the hill. Come the weekend, you'll be right back to your grinning self and satisfying those itchy feet of yours in no time. And keeping your big brother on his toes, of course."

Masaki gives a conspiratorial wink. Kaien cackles weakly in response.

"But I do have a surprise for you if that'll help you feel better."

Kaien perks up curiously. Masaki flashes a quick smile, walking around the corner to the small office space beyond. More a cupboard really but its hers. She plucks up a braided band of tanned and blue leathers from her desk, threaded with azure glass beads and cowrie shells.

A fortnight ago, her family surprised her with a beach picnic-turn-barbeque for her birthday. They let her sleep in, only for her wake up a little past 9:30 to two picnic hampers packed full of snacks, sandwiches and fresh meat to go on the public barbeque. When the twins, the elder pair, weren't busy challenging each other to dive headlong into the biggest wave or helping their baby sisters build sandcastles, they collected seashells together.

Masaki is a jeweler by trade. So when the boys eagerly rushed back to her, their hands overladen with shells of all shapes and sizes, Masaki offered to turn them into accessories. It took a week, most of it spent sterilizing the materials, but she'd finished Kaien's bracelet first. Ichigo's still deciding what he wants Masaki to make.

(It's no Quincy cross but Masaki plans to surprise the twins on their tenth birthday by gifting them Quincy crosses of their own, as per the preciously few Kurosaki family traditions she intends to keep. She's a few long chats away from convincing Isshin to allow it. And thanks to Ryuken, two ingots of consecrated silver sit in her toolbox, ready and waiting for the task. She thinks she'll let the boys help her design them, adding their own personal flourishes. Then surprise them with the finished products on the day.)

When Masaki returns and presents it to Kaien, his face lights up like a Christmas tree. He cradles the bracelet in both hands like its spun from gold.

"Its a bit big now but you'll to grow into it." Masaki reassures.

Kaien launches from the lounge, wrapping her waist in a big hug. Masaki holds her boy close, cheek resting on his crown. Unfortunately the sweet moment is broken by a string of wracking coughs. Masaki rubs his back gently, letting Kaien hack it out. "Oh dear. Time for a nap."

It might sound patronizing to a nine year old but Kaien quietly nods and lays back down on the lounge, clutching his new bracelet in his fist like a precious talisman.

A series of thumping down the stairs pulls Masaki's attention away from her sick son. She has to stop herself from laughing when Ichigo bursts into the living room in his sneakers, gi and raincoat, practically lost in Kaien's stingray patterned duvet. A bundle he prompts dumps on his twin brother, burying Kaien in linens.

Kaien pokes his head out, an enraged pout aimed at Ichigo. Meanwhile, Ichigo is bouncing on his toes and grinning. Masaki coughs, clearing her throat to cover her laugh while she straightens out the blankets.

"Wasn't funny." Kaien whines.

"Yeah it was!" Ichigo rebuffs, unrepentant.

"Ichigo, don't be mean to your brother." Masaki admonishes.

Ichigo crosses his arms with a pout. "He was teasing me when I was sick."

"Yes," Masaki agrees patiently, "And you'll remember I told him off for that. Now I'm telling you off."

Ichigo wilts with a huff, chastised. "Okay."

Masaki smiles, poking Ichigo's nose, laughing when he scrubs it on the back of his hand. Then turns her attention back to Kaien. "And you, young man. Close those eyes and get some rest. We'll be back home before you know it. I'll whip up sea bream miso soup for dinner."

A spark of life returned to those bleary blue eyes at the mention of one of his favourite meals. Kaien flashes a tired smile then obeys, burrowing into the blankets.

"Rest well, sweetheart." Masaki gently strokes his hair.

"I love you, mama."

Masaki leans down kissing his forehead. "I love you too, little sun."

Kaien stares at his darkened bedroom ceiling, toying with the well-worn leather band around his left wrist, contemplating his last memory of his mother.

The last time he saw her alive was a day like any other. Routine even. He was already out of it thanks to a head cold but he doesn't remember much in the two weeks after that morning. Barely even remembers the funeral. All he remembers is lingering weakness from the cold, a fainting spell, distant shouts and urgent voices.

His next clearest memory is waking up in a hospital bed two weeks later, his remaining family weeping over him, and a whole new pain in his chest to serve as companion to his grief.

As much as Kaien avoids thinking about it, the one image he can't get out of his head is the heart-breaking expression on his brother's face.

Ichigo who wasn't so fortunate to have such a pleasant final memory of Masaki. Who had a front row seat to watching some foul hollow beast murder their mother. Ichigo who almost lost a mother and his twin in one fortnight.

Kaien inhales as deeply as he can, suppressing the urge to wince as that familiar pain in his chest catches. Absently his fingers trace the pearly surgical scar on his sternum. The worst part was discovering his helplessness a short while after coming home.

When Kaien finally felt strong enough to train again, he'd discovered the lion's share of his Quincy power was gone. Even his ability to see spirits dramatically dulled. Where they were once clear as a bell, he could only see vague impressions.

He couldn't figure it out. But something tickled at the back of his brain. A hymn their late mother taught them as toddlers came to the forefront of his mind. The Kaiser Gesang.

Once that clicked in his head, everything else fell into place. In his infinite greed, the carrion emperor decided that, as a hollow-tainted Quincy and a Quincy-Shinigami half-breed, Kaien and his mother were nothing more than food. Two of countless precious lives reduced to tasty little soul nuggets for a selfish hateful corpse to slurp down.

Of course he'd managed to gain some measure of power back, using his mother's last gift as a focus the way Quincy use their crosses or shinigami channel their zanpakutou, but its paltry and vastly more unstable compared to the abilities he used to possess. Least of all because he's slave to the mercurial whims of the feral spirit within. A hollow-tainted thing like Ichigo's spirit, but barely coherent and damaged in ways Kaien couldn't begin to understand. (Doesn't stop him from trying though.)

His fingers scrunch his shirt into a tight, trembling fist. His teeth grind together in a bitter snarl.

"You okay?" Ichigo's voice floats from his bed, where he'd huddled up on his side, facing the window.

Kaien glances over, the burning embers of anger simmering down. Smoothing out his shirt, he breaths out a heavy sigh.

"Honestly, I'd rather be in school tomorrow." He admits, utterly devoid of his typical cheer, "But I'm not enough of a selfish brat to say that out loud. Especially not in front of the girls."

"Yeah. I know." Ichigo mutters.

A short silence passes, save for a gentle rustling of leaves outside their bedroom window.

"Want to talk about it?" Ichigo offers.

"Nothing I haven't already said every other year." Kaien rolls onto his side, away from his brother.

"Mmm."

A minute later, Kaien hears the rustle of bedclothes and looks over his shoulder. Ichigo had bunched open close to the wall and pulled his blanket aside, leaving an open space on the other side of the mattress.

It takes Kaien about two seconds to accept the invitation. As soon as he lies down back-to-back with his twin Ichigo throws the blanket over him.

"Kick me and I kick you off."

"Tempting."

"Tch. Shut up and go to sleep, twerp."

"Brat."

Isshin waits until all his children are asleep before he shoves on his jacket and heads out. His expression is altogether dour when he turned the last corner towards Urahara's back alley shop. He finds the shopkeeper sitting expectantly in the backroom by the small table. A pair of lukewarm teas wait for them.

"The latest sample." Isshin skips the usual pleasantries, producing a small cannister-like object the size of his thumb, filled with erratic silver-y blue reiatsu.

Urahara holds the tiny glass cylinder between his thumb and finger, examining it with a critical eye Isshin's grown to hate over these past seven years.

"Thank you. The analysis won't take too long." Urahara says, inserting it into a handheld device.

Isshin sits down on a cushion across the table, chin propped up on a fist while he waits to the tell-tale click and chime for the result. He doesn't expect any change from the last time they did this.

The twitch downwards on Urahara's face tells him the new is grim as ever.

"No change, I take it?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, I'm afraid." Urahara reports.

Isshin is not comforted. Unfortunately in this context, 'ordinary' means turbulent, chaotic and self-destructive.

"And there's nothing you can do?" Isshin asks, probably for the millionth time.

Urahara looks at him with some mix of exasperation and sympathy, which irritates Isshin even more. "I won't mince words. Practically speaking, there really isn't anything I can do. I can confirm that Kaien able to produce Quincy reiyoku and Hollow reiyoku in abundance, but there's not enough shinigami to force an equilibrium like Ichigo. Between the two contradicting forces, his reiatsu won't stabilise. It decays faster than he can regenerate it. The end result is effectively a poison that's corroding his soul on a foundational level, manifesting as his physical symptoms."

"I already know that." Isshin says, hiding his frustration.

"At the rate of decay I've been observing, realistically speaking he should have died in that hospital seven years ago." Urahara considers the device in his palm, carefully. "Until very recently I hadn't the faintest clue why he's still alive."

Isshin threw him a dirty look. "But you have a theory. You always do."

"I do." Urahara agrees. "At first, I wasn't certain but I've concluded that Ichigo's presence has something to do with why Kaien's reiyoku emissions spike as drastically as they do. I've noticed that every time the latter's reiyoku temporarily stabilises after his episodes coincides with his proximity to Ichigo."

Isshin frowns. "You think Kaien is instinctually drawing on Ichigo's ambient reiyoku to keep himself alive?"

"I don't believe there's anything instinctual about it." Urahara dismisses, "Knowing now that Ichigo has a distinct grasp of rudimentary abilities, I would go as far to suggest Ichigo is actively contributing to keeping his brother alive."

Isshin's frown deepens. "Wait. You're telling me he's been donating reiatsu to Kaien every other week? Right under my nose?"

"That is what my data suggests, yes."

Isshin leans back, processing this.

He knew his boys were secretive when they wanted to be, but this? Has he really become so blind? Has playing human these past twenty years dulled his senses that much?

He knew what it was like to deal with an ailing sibling. Having your life revolve around them and their needs. He loved his brother, the first Kaien's father, dearly but he was a palling man. And as much as Isshin loved him, part of him resented the man a bit. That quiet resentment loomed like a shadow over all their conversations, particularly in Inei's final years.

He never wanted that same kind of resentment brewing between his boys.

That's why Isshin encouraged them to pursue their separate interests, encouraged them to live different lives as much as they could. Many challenges loomed on the horizon simply because of what they are; be it Aizen's schemes or Kaien's own failing health reaching its inevitable conclusion. He wanted to remind them that life existed outside each other, pushed them accordingly.

But in doing that, has Isshin inadvertently making things worse?

He closes his eyes and pushes that unpleasant thought side with a shake of his head.

"A hakkyō has a donor soul. There's gotta be something left of the original Kaien, otherwise mine wouldn't have existed in the first place. Can you, I don't know, search for the original and use the leftovers to heal my son?" Isshin bargains, masking the desperation lying just under the surface.

He knows what he's asking is horrific by any standard of decency, digging up his nephew's grave for a chance that his son might be saved. But he knows Urahara's the kind of person to to do what's necessary no matter his personal scruples. In fact, Isshin's quite sure the man's done worse in his former career as an omnitsukidou operative without batting an eye.

Urahara exhales a tired sigh, shaking his head. "I've been searching for that very thing since the day my suspicions were confirmed. Unfortunately, between this world, Soul Society, Hueco Mundo and anywhere in between, I'm searching for a needle in a haystack of infinite size. I doubt I would be able to find the original if I were afforded another two hundred years."

"There's got to be something you can do." Isshin half-demands.

"Not without studying Kaien more closely." Urahara says. "The samples you've provided me over the years have given me a broad framework to extrapolate from, but I would need to see for myself if my theory is correct. And if so, I would like to know exactly what mechanism Ichigo uses to keep his brother alive. Perhaps from that example I can derive a temporary measure."

The shopkeeper fixes Isshin with a hard stare from under his hat, "But you must understand any solution I come up with is not permanent. Short of completing the hakkyō process, anything I offer is a stopgap solution at best. And nothing I can do will repair the damage already done."

Isshin contemplates this with a scowl, shifting edgily in his seat. He hated that. He wanted something practice to do now. Instead he's helpless to do anything of practical use. He's learned human medicine well enough, can take care of his son's human symptoms but he hates he can't do anything to treat the cause.

"Do what you have to do." Isshin says eventually.

Urahara arches an eyebrow. "Even if that risks regrettably dragging him into the very war you demanded I keep him away from?"

Isshin glares harshly at him.

Urahara is unperturbed. "You know as well as I do he'd inevitably follow Ichigo anyhow. Where one of them goes, the other is quick to follow."

"Don't have to tell me twice. They could be trying to tear each other's throats out with their teeth one moment, then gladly jump headlong into hell for each other the next." Isshin heaves out a sigh then grudgingly concedes. "Do whatever it takes. But don't come complaining to me if my boys become too much of a handfull."

Urahara shrugs. "If I cannot convince a pair of teenagers to work with me, then I need to seriously reassess my own capabilities. I'm quite sure we can come to an equitable working arrangement." 

Isshin snorts. "You say that now. Just you wait; those boys redefine the term immovable object."

"Duly noted."

"I need to head home. We've got a challenging day tomorrow."

"Of course." Urahara inclines his head sympathetically, waving his friend out. "My best wishes to Masaki."