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Just like most things in Ichigo’s life, he doesn’t really plan for it to happen. He’s still living at home after the war, but the normalcy or four walls and a ceiling chafes at him in a way that never used to happen. He sees enemies where there aren’t any and more often than not, he wakes up biting back screams.
Tonight is one of those nights. Ichigo startles awake, a thin layer of sweat on his skin. He feels cold and warm at the same time, and the thin cotton sheet of his bed sticks against his skin uncomfortably. There’s a tear where his fingers have gripped it too tightly, struggling against the fabric like he was struggling against something else. It’s just as annoying as every other time this has happened, and Ichigo mentally adds new bedsheets onto his list of purchases for the week. It’s the third time this month.
Glancing over at his alarm clock, it blinks 1:59 at him, the red numbers too bright in the dark room. Covering his eyes with his arm, Ichigo groans. He could try to go back to sleep but it probably won’t go that well. Even so, he breathes deeply, trying to get his still rapidly beating heart to calm down enough for him to get a couple more hours of rest.
Ichigo’s not sure how long he lays there like that, trying desperately to fall back to sleep before he gives it up as a long cause.
Dragging himself from his bed, Ichigo heads for the shower in the hopes that it’ll help him feel better. He’s no stranger to this routine by now, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating.
Stepping from the shower, Ichigo throws on a pair of well-worn jeans and a hoodie. The soft fabric is grounding and more importantly, it isn’t the shihakushou of his shinigami form.
He’s not really thinking as he leaves the house. Karakura is never truly dark. Between the streetlights, the stars and the moon, it’s well-lit enough as Ichigo wanders the familiar streets. If he wasn’t so used to ghosts, the quiet of the neighbourhood might have been eerie to Ichigo.
His shoulders droop slightly the longer he walks for. By the time he’s starting to feel like himself again, Ichigo is standing in front of Urahara’s Shoten. He hadn’t meant to walk here—hadn’t even realised the direction he was walking in.
And because it’s Urahara’s Shoten and he’s no better than Ichigo when it comes to getting some actual sleep, it’s only moments later that the man appears in front of the building. Urahara’s signature fan is in his hand, but he doesn’t open it. There’s understanding in those grey eyes and Ichigo relaxes just a little bit more.
“Ara, Ichi-chan! Don’t stand out in the cold like that, come inside.”
Ichigo shrugs but doesn’t resist the order-like request. “Haven’t been here that long,” he defends himself, trudging inside. He slips off his shoes and into the pair of house slippers that he knows Urahara keeps for him.
They end up sitting in the small living room under the kotatsu that Urahara has set up even though it’s only early autumn. Ichigo hadn’t noticed that he was cold but that must’ve been the numbness because he can tell the difference now. His hands defrost on a warm cup of tea. The aroma is comforting, even though he knows from experience that tea made by Urahara isn’t the best.
“A nice night for a walk?” Urahara asks.
Ichigo shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.” Not like it was some kind of secret. None of them really slept the same, so he’s hardly the only one, even if there are times where he feels like he’s adjusting to the changes worse than everyone else.
Humming into his tea, Urahara doesn’t offer any judgement and just silently refills Ichigo’s tea when he runs out. It’s… nice. The restricting feeling of walls pressing in rescinds with Urahara, even if Ichigo’s not quite sure why.
A couple hours later, Tessai wakes up as Ichigo is leaving the shoten. He needs to get home for breakfast and then make the trip to university. The gentle giant doesn’t ask any questions, just offers a nod and lets Ichigo go on his way.
Ichigo doesn’t mean for it to become a habit, but that one time becomes a second time and then that second time quickly becomes several times a week. Ichigo’s stopped waiting to be invited in.
They don’t always sit in contemplative silence. Sometimes they both read books, simply enjoying each other’s company, and other times they end up in the basement, testing their skills against each other like they’re trying to make sure they’re prepared for the next war.
Urahara becomes Kisuke, and soon Ichigo spends the same amount of time at the shoten that he does at home. No-one comments on it. Ichigo’s not sure whether that’s better or worse than the alternative—that no-one has even noticed it’s happening.
Of course, Ichigo still has all of his close friends. There’s a level of understanding between everyone from the wars that Ichigo thinks they’ll always have, even if they don’t speak for years on end. But they’re all also becoming adults. After leaving high school behind, they’re all focusing on university and their careers, just like Ichigo is. Which is to say nothing for the various shinigami friends that still reside in Seireitei, far from Ichigo’s regular reach.
The girls are also well into their teen years and they’re acting the part. Yuzu is still cooking for them, but she needs to make time for cram school and club activities and living her life. She can’t feed them all forever and none of the Kurosaki household blames her for only cooking a few times a week.
All that is to say, the house is so quiet they might not have noticed at all when he stopped being home for four out of seven breakfasts a week, or that his bed is often empty at night because he can’t sleep for more than a couple of hours in that room before the cold seeps into his bones and he wakes biting back a shout that he knows would wake the entire house.
Maybe it’s easier this way, Ichigo thinks as he slips inside the shoten for the third time this week alone. At least if they don’t realise it’s happening, they won’t look at him with pity. Ichigo’s not sure he could handle that.
He finds Kisuke in the basement, already training with Benihime. He grins when Ichigo catches his eye and Ichigo fights against the warmth in his cheeks.
This was another new thing that had happened over the however many weeks Ichigo has been coming to the shoten. Kisuke was a good-looking man and Ichigo has become hyperaware of that fact, along with a reminder that he’s never been entirely straight. It doesn’t help that Kisuke, in all his teasing jibes and infuriating manner, just works with Ichigo. He gives Ichigo exactly what he needs without blinking because under all his flamboyance and ruthlessness, Ichigo knows without a doubt that Kisuke is a caring man.
“Ara Ichi-chan, if you’re just going to stare at me then I might start blushing,” Kisuke teases from across the room.
Shaking away those thoughts, Ichigo rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance even as his lips twitch. “I don’t think you’re capable of blushing,” he says.
Kisuke flutters open his fan, hiding the smirk he’s probably wearing as he bats his eyelashes. “What a mean thing to say.”
Ichigo snorts and doesn’t bother replying. It’s not like there really needs to be words between the two of them.
The weight of Zangetsu and Ossan in either of his hands is comfortable—familiar. Right.
He doesn’t wait for Kisuke to do something as stupid as “ready up” before he leaps into shunpo and launches his attack.
If anything, Kisuke grins wider. He’d been the one to teach Ichigo after all, he knows that even in a mock battle like this, Ichigo won’t give him an inch unless Kisuke pries it from his hands. Similarly, as Kisuke falls into the rhythm of their fight, dancing around the room Shihouin-fast, Benihime masterfully wielded, Ichigo fights for every inch he can take, using every tactic he can think of to win this spar.
It ends with Ichigo’s loss, but he feels no irritation as he stares at a lightly panting Kisuke. That had been a close match, but in the end if they’re not using bankai, Kisuke just has more experience with the blade.
Running a hand through his hair, Ichigo cringes at the sweat.
Kisuke chuckles. “How about a shower?” he offers. “I think you left clothes here last time.”
Ichigo hums.
It’s not until he’s looking at drawers in the guest room that has several sets of his clothes that he realises he might be here more than even he realised. Ichigo considers how hard he wants to think about that before sliding the drawer closed. If it isn’t broke, he supposes. Though he does resolve to finally speak with his family about this.
Gradually that drawer became several drawers until most of his clothes live out of the guest room. His favourite blanket had migrated here sometime in the past month, and he has his own cup with a toothbrush and preferred hygiene in the bathroom at this point. He’s even added to the Shoten’s chore roster, though Ichigo suspects Kisuke had been joking more than anything.
Still, he does the dishes without complaint and cooks dinner twice a meal because he’s not going to freeload when he’s eating their food and drinking their tea, and it’s not like they’re hard tasks for him to do.
“You know, you can move in officially,” Kisuke says one night. They’re playing shogi in the sitting room with the AC blasting, cooling down the obnoxiously humid room.
Ichigo frowns, looking up from the move he’d been planning. “What do you mean?”
Kisuke almost looks hesitant for a second before he straightens his back. He goes to hide his face behind his fan before he must think better of it. “You know that most of your stuff is here, right? You could tell your family that you’re moving out and just live here full-time,” he offers.
Ichigo blinks at Kisuke before he snorts. It shouldn’t be funny, but it was such an uncharacteristic offer. “Kisuke, do you really think my family doesn’t know where I spend all of my time?” he asks.
It’s silent so Ichigo rolls his eyes. For a genius, Kisuke is sometimes so dense. “Kisuke, they stopped expecting me to be home for meals three months ago. I already announced that I’d be practically moving out then,” Ichigo says.
Kisuke’s eyes are wide like he can’t believe that this had happened, and he had no idea the entire time. Though in Ichigo’s defence, he thought that they were on the same page. Still, perhaps this is one of the few times when actually communicating might have benefitted them both. Ichigo lets Kisuke have his moment, finally moving a piece on the shogi board.
Clearing his throat, Kisuke looks vaguely embarrassed. It’s a cute look, and Ichigo memorises it. He can’t imagine that this is a side of Kisuke that he’ll be getting to see often, so he relishes in having caught the older man off guard.
“Right, well I’m glad that’s all sorted,” Kisuke says, going for bright with his tone.
Ichigo hums. “Anything else we need to actually talk about that you’ve been thinking about in that brain of yours?” he asks.
“Well I was also thinking of asking you on a date after you’d agreed to move in, so there is that,” Kisuke muses.
It would have caught Ichigo unawares if they hadn’t been practically dancing around each other for several months. He’s pretty sure that Jinta, Ururu and Tessai have had a bet going for at least half of that time. “Aren’t you doing things a little backwards there? Aren’t we meant to date first and then move in together?”
Shrugging, Kisuke grins brightly, any reservations he had fading into the background. “Well, we’ve never been known for doing things by the book,” he says, unrepentant.
Shaking his head fondly, Ichigo can’t help but grin a little. “No, no we aren’t.”
“I win by the way.”
Ichigo curses, but the laughter in Kisuke’s eyes is worth losing yet again.
There’s no profound confessions of love between them, and maybe there never would be, but Ichigo was okay with that.
This right here, is all he needs.