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Ichigo should’ve known something was up the moment the Squad 1 officer showed up.
He’s walking back from the training grounds after a session with the rookies, when the officer approaches him, standing so straight that Ichigo’s back almost hurts just looking at him. He’s awkward in the way he’s carrying himself, as if it’s taking conscious effort to maintain that overtly formal stature. His long bony fingers are gripping some kind of correspondence.
Nothing about his features—high cheekbones, narrow nose, and short dark hair—sparks recognition in Ichigo, even though he has been getting better at putting names to faces— shut up, Zangetsu, I’m not faceblind.
Probably hasn’t spoken to the guy before, then.
"Kurosaki-fukutaichō,” the officer calls out, when he’s about five feet away from him. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
“Uh, hey,” Ichigo greets back with a casual wave. “You need me for something?”
A small nod. “I am here to deliver the official summons for you," he says, holding out a sealed envelope. "Kyōraku-sōtaichō requests your presence. Both of you."
"Both of who?" He frowns, giving his surroundings a quick once-over—did he miss someone?
The officer’s eyes flick to the envelope. "You and your zanpakutō spirit."
Oh? Zangetsu’s presence stirs at his mention, a spark of his curiosity brushing more closely with the forefront of their consciousness. He’s only been half-listening to Ichigo’s exchange with the officer up until now.
Ichigo schools his expression into something more composed. "Zangetsu? What for?” The hell does Kyōraku want with him?
The officer’s jaw tightens, as he extends the envelope further. "Everything is written in the summons, Kurosaki-fukutaichō."
Ichigo eyes the letter with suspicion, but he takes it from the Shinigami and turns it over. His gaze lands on the careful handwriting.
Then he notices the names.
Kurosaki Ichigo.
That’s to be expected. But right underneath it—
Kurosaki Zangetsu.
His breath hitches. "What the—" His eyes widen. "Are you kidding me?" Why give Zangetsu a surname?
The Squad 1 officer just stands there, stone-faced. "Kyōraku-sōtaichō requests both of you for an official meeting."
Ichigo opens his mouth, then closes it again. He hates everything about where this is going.
Zangetsu snorts, clearly amused by Ichigo’s inner turmoil. Don’t remember tying the knot with you, King.
Ichigo’s grip on the letter tightens. Come on, be serious. Something is clearly up, and Ichigo doesn’t like it one bit. Or I’ll tie a knot around your neck.
How kinky.
He groans, dragging his hand down his face.
Focus, and he’s not sure if he’s telling that to himself or Zangetsu, or both. He must have sounded desperate, he thinks, because Zangetsu only hums in response and does something with their reiatsu that helps Ichigo redirect his attention outwards.
Huh. Convenient.
The Shinigami is still looking at the envelope expectantly—right. That.
He opens it and skims the contents, eyes narrowing as he reads the date of the appointment—today at 3 PM—and the reason for the meeting.
Formal appointment, Squad 13 Lieutenant position. His stomach drops.
Are they getting rid of him?
His gaze lingers on the words longer than necessary, as if they’re going to change if he stares hard enough. They don’t.
If this is how they’re letting him go, he’ll deal with it. Go back to Karakura, bug Hat’n’Clogs at his candy store. Keep an eye out on Karin and Yuzu again. Try to keep his head down.
It wouldn’t be the first time Soul Society made it clear he doesn’t belong. Just feels different—bitter—now that he actually let himself think that maybe things have changed enough to make space for someone like him.
A steady warmth brushes through the bond. A heartbeat later, he feels a faint sensation of fingers threading through his own, a faint squeeze that steadies the edge of his thoughts.
Don’t overthink it, King, Zangetsu murmurs, it’ll be fine.
Before he can reply, a feather-light touch grazes his cheek—it’s soft, lingering, the barest hint of lips against skin. His face flushes immediately.
Stop that, Ichigo mutters as the edges of his ears burn. We’re in public.
Hm, no, Zangetsu hums. Gotta keep you on your toes, or you’d start spiraling.
He doesn’t dignify that with a response, mostly because they both know Zangetsu is correct. Ichigo knows how to pick his battles, after all.
He looks back at the messenger. “Fine, fine,” he says, stuffing the letter back into the envelope with more force than necessary. “You can tell him I’ll be there.”
The officer gives him a quick nod. “Understood,” he says, “I will inform Kyōraku-sōtaichō shortly. Now, if you'll excuse me,” and struts away in the direction of Squad 1 barracks. Ichigo watches him go, the letter crinkling slightly in his tightening grip.
“Great,” he mutters to himself. “Just great.”
They arrive in Squad 1 headquarters in the afternoon. Ichigo stands in front of Kyōraku’s desk, arms crossed, with Zangetsu materialized right next to him. The spirit looks relaxed, but Ichigo can feel where he’s keenly directing his attention. He follows it, gaze settling on Kyōraku.
The man looks relaxed—in a good mood, even. That surely can’t be a bad sign, can it?
“So,” Ichigo says instead of greeting, “why are we here? What’s this about?” Right to the point—no need to waste time on pleasantries and small talk.
The Captain Commander grins cheekily. “Oh, just tying up some loose ends.”
“You mean us?” Ichigo asks flatly. His gaze flicks toward Zangetsu, who returns him a quick look, before turning to Kyōraku once more. “You officially listed him under my surname.”
“Well,” Kyōraku says, “he needs a full name for what’s gonna happen next, and he is your zanpaktuō spirit, isn’t he? So, I went with the obvious choice.”
“He,” Zangetsu mutters under his breath, just loud enough for both of them to hear it, “also bothered to materialize because someone requested his presence.” He crosses his arms over his chest, now mirroring Ichigo’s stance.
“My apologies,” says Kyōraku, but he doesn't look remorseful in the slightest. “You do see, though, you stepping into Lieutenant duties unofficially affects… let's say, work morale among my officers, right?”
Work morale? Ichigo mouths to Zangetsu, who just shakes his head and replies, “Not particularly.”
“Hmm. Shame,” he sighs. “Regardless, it cannot continue as it is now.”
“So what do you want us to do?” Ichigo asks, mind going back to the envelope. “Is that why you're demoting me?” Or kicking me out, he doesn’t say, because he’s not gonna be the first one to say it.
Kyōraku looks up at him in surprise. “Demoting?” he laughs, and waves his right hand. “No, no, nothing of the sort, Kurosaki-fukutaichō.”
“Then what?"
Kyōraku props his chin on his hand. “Let’s see… We have an unofficial Lieutenant handling squad business.” His wrist flicks vaguely in Zangetsu’s direction. “Assisting with paperwork. Running drills. Sparring demonstrations.” He pauses. “We need to take the next logical step.”
Ichigo groans, but doesn’t say anything.. Come on, just say it already. The stupid old bastard is gonna drag it out as much as he can, huh?
Kyōraku lifts a sheet of paper from the pile on his desk and slides it toward Zangetsu. “To make it official.”
“You’re—”
“Appointing Zangetsu-san as Squad 13’s Lieutenant,” Kyōraku says, voice light. “Or should I say… Co-Lieutenant."
Ichigo’s brain stalls. His gaze snaps toward Zangetsu, whose smile dangerously widens.
Oh, no.
Oh, yes, Zangetsu pushes through their bond, which makes Ichigo want to repeatedly bash his head against Kyōraku’s desk.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Ichigo says.
“Does it look like I’m kidding?”
Ichigo squints, taking in his expression. He looks mildly amused by the situation, but he doesn’t seem to be playing a joke on them. Unfortunately.
“Can’t say I expected that,” Zangetsu says cheerfully, “but it sounds like fun. I’m in.”
Kyōraku raises one eyebrow. “I appreciate your sentiment, Zangetsu-fukutaichō, but that’s not exactly your call, is it?”
"Please." Zangetsu, the absolute bastard, has the audacity to roll his eyes at the most powerful man in Soul Society like it’s nothing. Ichigo fucking loves him for that. “If I wanted, I could just stay dematerialized the whole time and not you, nor any of your little lackeys, would be able to do shit to make me go along with this.”
He's pushing boundaries—Ichigo realizes—as if saying, Remember Central?
But Soul Society's leader remains unfazed, simply tilting his head slightly, as if to consider Zangetsu’s bold claim. “I feel like you may be underestimating the creative genius of our beloved Squad 12, but let’s agree to disagree.”
Ichigo’s mouth opens—and then closes again. He shakes his head, because no. “You wouldn’t.”
“Maybe I would—maybe not,” Kyōraku hums. “Doesn’t matter now.”
He doesn’t bother correcting Kyōraku that no, I was not questioning your willingness to engage in morally dubious scientific experimentation. I was telling you not to, because he would be damned if he let anyone try to touch Zangetsu ever again, and that should be obvious by now, after the whole debacle with Central. But if they’re stupid enough to believe he wouldn’t go ballistic when Zangetsu is actually threatened, he figures it’s better to not show his entire hand.
Ichigo’s eyes narrow, as another thought pops into his head. “Does Rukia know about this?” Because she has to know, right? It is her squad, after all.
As expected, Kyōraku nods. “Yes, your Captain has been informed. She has okayed the appointment, of course.”
Yeah. “She thinks it’s funny, doesn’t she.”
A corner of Kyōraku’s mouth twitches in amusement. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”
Ichigo grits his teeth. “Great.”
Kyōraku graciously ignores Ichigo’s disagreeable disposition. Instead, he gestures toward the paper. “It’s mostly a formality. Same duties, same expectations—”
Ichigo’s gaze lands on Kyōraku’s face, studying the Captain Commander’s expression more closely. “How the hell did you even know about that? Zangetsu helping me out—about people in my squad calling him Lieutenant?”
“Well, I would be a very lousy Captain Commander if I didn’t even know what happens in the very organization I’m supposed to lead, wouldn’t I?”
“Yeah, but—”
Kyōraku’s gaze darkens. “It’s also about making sure, in the light of recent events with Central, that if certain… people got into power again and decided they didn’t like Zangetsu’s existence,” he says mildly—too calm and casual for the weight of his words, “they’d have to go through me first.”
Huh.
He didn’t consider that. Not for the first time, Ichigo realizes how lucky he is to have this man standing behind him.
“Call it insurance,” Kyōraku says finally.
Damn. He got some balls, Zangetsu calls out to him through their bond, voice dripping with reluctant appreciation.
Ichigo exhales slowly through his nose. He hates how much sense it makes.
“You’re the one putting this whole new system together,” he says, brow furrowing. “You really think it’s gonna end up like Central?”
Kyōraku’s smile remains steady. “I’d like to think not,” he says lightly. “But Soul Society has been… resistant to change. I expect the nobles will fight me every step of the way.”
His jaw tightens. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”
“It’s not meant to be.” Kyōraku shrugs. “But it’s better to cover your bases early, because—”
“Hang on,” he interrupts. “I work for you.” A flash of memory—Kyōraku’s voice, amused but firm, ringing through his mind, Through Rukia. “And Zangetsu is my zanpakutō spirit. Wouldn’t he fall under your jurisdiction already?”
Kyōraku sighs. “Ordinarily, yes. But the old laws are still in place—full of loopholes if you know where to look. There are historical cases of Central stepping in to seal a Shinigami’s zanpakutō, or in the most extreme cases… destroy it.”
“Well, they can fucking try," he mutters under his breath.
He catches Zangetsu’s gaze and feels something warm and reassuring bleeding through his side of the bond. Zangetsu looks calm, like he always does when Ichigo’s losing it.
It’s so annoying.
It also helps.
“Indeed. We can’t afford that with your delicate sensibilities.” Kyōraku’s tone is light, but the weight beneath it presses like a blade. “Of course, the privileges of protection do come with certain expectations. You’re halfway there—overseeing most duties already, but there’s one more.”
Ah, he knows that tone.
“Lieutenants are expected to attend the official meetings. No exceptions.”
And there it is—the other shoe dropping. He groans, already picturing Zangetsu wreaking havoc, just to make a point—and Kyōraku’s stupid smug expression as he lets it happen.
"Awesome," Zangetsu drawls, eyes sparkling with mischief that Ichigo recognizes all too well.
You’re enjoying this too much.
Maybe.
I suppose it’s pointless to tell you that you’re not supposed to talk out of turn in these, Ichigo says dryly.
I’m not supposed to do a lot of things, Zangetsu says it like he’s explaining why the sky is blue to a toddler. That’s what makes it so fun.
“You have no idea what you’ve just done,” Ichigo says to Kyōraku. “The absolute chaos you just unleashed on Soul Society.”
“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea,” Kyōraku says, sounding far too pleased with himself.
Ichigo rubs his face instead of giving the Captain Commander a response, already regretting half of this. He’s gonna be hearing about this from everyone else for weeks—assuming it doesn’t implode even before then.
Kyōraku’s gaze drops to the form on the desk. “Any questions?”
“Nope,” Zangetsu says, stepping forward to pick up the brush. His handwriting is quick and efficient. Surprisingly neat.
Kyōraku hums as Zangetsu slides the form back across the desk. “Excellent.”
“Is that all?” Zangetsu asks, looking up at him expectantly.
At that, Kyōraku’s demeanor changes, gaze growing more attentive. “Not entirely. The official business is done, but I want to address one more thing off record.”
Ichigo stills. Just slightly—but it’s enough. The shift in Kyōraku’s tone is not hostile, but the difference is stark enough to send warning bells ringing in his mind. Every muscle in his face pulls tighter, as the Captain Commander continues, “You two are… unusually close.”
The words hang in the air. Ichigo doesn’t answer. Not right away. He’s too busy tracking the rigor with which Kyōraku watches him—or rather, both of them. Like he’s picking them apart one piece at a time.
He grits his teeth. “What about it?” His voice is probably a bit more defensive than it should be. “Isn’t a Shinigami supposed to be close with their blade?” He forces his expression into something neutral. Or at least something approaching it.
“Supposed to?” Kyōraku’s brow arches as he repeats. “Perhaps to a degree. But we all know that’s not what I’m asking.”
“Then what are you asking?”
Kyōraku’s gaze glints, his smile—previously warm and assuring—growing wider now. “Are you really going to make me spell it out, Kurosaki-fukutaichō?”
“Sure,” he says with all the confidence he doesn’t have. “I’m not a mind reader.” Please let it be something else.
“I see,” Kyōraku hums. He pauses for a moment, as if mulling something in his head. “I’m asking if the two of you are… involved.”
Fuck.
“No,” he says abruptly—and at the exact same moment Zangetsu growls, “None of your goddamn business!”
Cause how the hell does he know? What did they do to make him suspect?
They’ve been careful, in a public setting—only restraining their interactions to sparring and paperwork. Lieutenant duties. Professional. Ichigo is fairly confident that none of his subordinates suspect. None of his Shinigami friends, either—save for Rukia, who was there for the whole mess with Urahara’s experiments. After all, being in a relationship with your zanpakutō spirit—let alone one that’s also Hollow in nature—would be unthinkable to your regular Shinigami. So yeah, Ichigo kind of just… assumed that would be the last thing on anyone’s list.
And the only time that Ichigo remembers Kyōraku meeting Zangetsu face to face, was during Central’s trial. Surely the Captain Commander didn’t start suspecting then, right?
His mind quickly goes over the memory. Zangetsu was protective of him, yes, but Zangetsu’s actions were primarily serving their self-preservation. Surely keeping their wielder alive isn’t outside the realm of “normal” zanpakutō responsibilities?
A tense silence stretches between them. Kyōraku blinks twice, otherwise unfazed by the outburst, eye flicking from Ichigo to Zangetsu and back to Ichigo. The attention makes his stomach twist.
“Shame,” Kyōraku says, lips twitching like he’s enjoying every second of Ichigo’s descent to despair. “Because if you happened to be involved, then I would have told you I can… relate to certain aspects of your situation.”
His brain crash-stops, eyes widening. Relate? Huh.
Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
With his entire chest, Zangetsu supplies through the bond, just as stunned. Neither of them expected this, when Kyōraku started digging around their relationship. Zangetsu recovers quickly, though, his lips curling into his signature grin. “Cute.”
Kyōraku chuckles, his tone growing fonder, warmer. It’s a good look on him, Ichigo decides. “You wouldn’t think so if you actually met Katen. She’s a force of nature, that woman.”
Ichigo blinks. “Seriously?”
Kyōraku gives him a subtle shrug. “Stranger things have happened.”
“How long?”
Kyōraku’s brow lifts. “Oh… centuries.” He tilts his head thoughtfully. “Perhaps longer. It’s hard to measure time on that scale.”
Ichigo exhales. “Huh.” His mind spins, trying to process it—the implications, the history, the sheer amount of time Kyōraku and Katen have been… something. Some of the tension bleeds from his chest, and his breathing comes to him a little easier.
See? Zangetsu hums through the bond. We’re not so strange after all.
Mhm, he agrees and thinks of spending that much time with Zangetsu, and it’s simultaneously overwhelming and comforting. They’ve only gotten together four months ago—he cannot even fathom how strong their bond will be after centuries.
“How did you know about us?” Ichigo asks, because he has to know if something they did tipped them off, or if it was just Kyōraku being annoyingly perceptive.
“Let’s just say… personal insight.” Then, as if reading his mind, “Don’t worry, most people won’t look too closely. Your secret is still safe.”
Ichigo exhales, I guess that makes sense. “Takes one to know one, huh?”
“Precisely,” the tone of his voice sounds conclusive. “Now, if you don’t have any other requests or inquiries for me, I think that should settle our business for now.”
Zangetsu shifts closer, his shoulder bumping into Ichigo’s. “Are we dismissed?”
“Of course.” Kyōraku gestures toward the door. “After all, I have a stack of paperwork to return to.”
“Ever the paperwork, huh?” Ichigo jokes, because yeah, he feels for the guy. His own pile is growing larger by the day. He is so making Zangetsu deal with it this time. “Good luck with that.”
“Thank you, Kurosaki-fukutaichō. Enjoy the rest of your day. Try not to cause too much trouble.”
“Can’t promise that,” Ichigo lets out a small chuckle.
“What he said,” Zangetsu adds with a roll of his eyes, before they both step out of the office and into the hall. Ichigo’s shoulders relax slightly as the door slides shut behind them.
Well? Zangetsu quirks a pale eyebrow at Ichigo like he’s expecting him to lose all his marbles any moment now—
—which he promptly proceeds to do. Holy fucking shit! Him too!
Mhm. Get it out of your system, King.
Unbelievable. The weight of it settles in his chest and calms his insides. It shouldn’t make a difference—but somehow, it does. Damn.
They’re not alone.
They’re not alone.
Feel better?
Yeah, I guess, he swallows, then repeats, Yeah. I never would have guessed.
Right? Can’t believe the bastard approves, Zangetsu sends him through the bond, then audibly snorts under his own breath. He practically gave us his blessings, King! His giggles start turning into a full blown laugh.
Ichigo’s lips twitch, then stretch into a wide grin, because the sound of Zangetsu’s laughter is nothing if not contagious. Beautiful sound—Ichigo can’t get enough of it.
Still not an excuse to get us kicked out of official meetings.
No promises.
Ichigo groans audibly, then sends Zangetsu a silent, You’re the worst.
He’s not annoyed, though, not really. And Zangetsu can read him like an open book, because instead of arguing, he just points at the color-inverted Lieutenant badge strapped to his shoulder. And now I’m officially the worst.
Shut up, you’ve had that stupid badge since I got the job.
But it wasn’t official till now~! To which Ichigo really doesn’t have a valid retort.
God, he’s so annoying, he thinks to himself, and, He’s so lucky I love him anyways.
Zangetsu catches the feeling and reflects it back at Ichigo—like moonlight borrowing the sun’s warmth. I know.