Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Of Violence ❯ Of Distance ( Chapter 2 )

Of Violence

Chapter Two: Of Distance

 

It came as no surprise that Rukia wasn't home by the time Ichigo arrived with his brood. She had been leaving work later and later recently, nearly overwhelmed with the amount of duties that were necessary for a vice-captain. It didn't bother him as much as it bothered her. She had less and less time to spend with the children, which was putting a strain on everyone.

 

But Ichigo was certain that it would all return to a semblance of normality given time.

 

Nami, his housekeeper and a kind old woman with a much cheerier disposition than Kuina, met him at the door, thankfully taking Mikan off his hands. He loved the twins, but one in each hand grew heavy after a while, even given his strength. It was a different kind of weight than wielding Zangetsu for hours on end.

 

The perks of being a captain were far more than Ichigo ever anticipated, including the servants that came with the position. He never considered himself the type for hired help, but he admitted that he was glad since he was often alone with four children. To be expected to handle his job effectively, take care of his brood, clean the house, and cook would be a bit too much without them.

 

“Evening, Ichigo-san,” Nami greeted as Syaoran and Kaien stepped in past her, both trying to take off their sandals with marginal success.

 

“Hello, Nami. Has Rukia sent by anything?” Ichigo asked, reaching with one hand to remove Zangetsu from his back, placing his zanpakutou in the stand against the wall. He would retrieve the sword later, moving Zangetsu to his room within easy reach.

 

She shook her head. “No. I expect she'll be home around the usual time.”

 

“I assumed as much.”

 

He managed to get Kaien's sandals off and pushed them over to the side, helping Syaoran remove hers. She was unsurprisingly defter than her brother.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Kaien yawning. “Tired?”

 

The boy nodded, one fist rubbing at his face. “Renji-oji-san said he would start to spar with me, if I wanted,” Kaien responded, obviously fighting with his fatigue in an attempt to stay alert and energetic.

 

Ichigo straightened, shifting Ryuu in his hold. His youngest son barely stirred.

 

“Did he now?” the man posed, and Kaien walked alongside him as they began to head into the dining room, Nami trailing after.

 

Seconds later, it came as no surprise when Syaoran moved to his other side. “Byakuya-oji-san chuckled when Renji-oji-san said that, too,” she whispered conspiratorially, causing Ichigo to grin.

 

Kaien shot his sister an irritated look, as if annoyed that she would interrupt him. “He said if I practice hard enough, I might be as good as him someday. And then, I'll be able to beat you.”

 

It was a long standing and already expressed desire of Kaien's to become a Shinigami just like his parents. He was already making plans to enter the Academy as soon as he matured. And like his father, he was already showing signs of spiritual power, had since his birth. His greatest goal so far was to beat Ichigo in a duel.

 

They stepped into the dining room as Ichigo chuckled again, inwardly rolling his eyes. Renji was already trying to corrupt his children.

 

“Did Renji happen to mention that he has never once defeated me?” Ichigo asked, glancing down at his son.

 

The boy pouted. “No.”

 

Ichigo didn't think so. He reveled only briefly in his victory before remembering that he was taunting his own son and that it was a rather juvenile action.

 

“Still, Renji's not entirely useless. If he wants to teach you, he can.”

 

Kaien brightened immediately. It never took much make him happy, which Ichigo was glad for. Sometimes, he worried that he didn't have enough time to give enough attention to all of his children. But he would never give any of them up either. Even if the twins had been a very unexpected surprise.

 

“Dinner is ready, Ichigo-san,” Sanji announced as he poked his head out of the kitchen, having heard their entrance.

 

The younger man, seeming scarcely older than Rukia herself, was a direct contrast to Byakuya's own stern cook. He offered a smile to the children, Kaien already sinking into his usual seat with practiced movements.

 

“Thanks, Sanji,” Ichigo replied, offering a hand to his daughter so that she could lower into her seat. Her cushion was thankfully high enough that she could easily reach the table, though it took some effort to situate her.

 

Nami helped him strap the twins into the small baby-chairs made especially by Ikkaku, strangely enough, and Ichigo sat between them, already preparing himself for a mess. Thank goodness Syaoran and Kaien could eat on their own, if a bit untidily in the end. He had finally grown adept at feeding both twins at the same time once Rukia's absences had become a little more common. Still, a part of him wished that she were here to help him, especially to keep an eye on their elder two and the level of messiness Kaien was sure to accrue.

 

He let the babble of Syaoran and Kaien wash over him, interjecting when necessary and appropriate. Sanji brought out the dishes in record time, causing Kaien's eyes to light up at the sight of his favorite food. The boy was so ridiculously easy to please. His eldest dug in with little grace, eagerly shoveling food into his mouth.

 

Syaoran, on the other hand, ate delicately and with great care. Every movement was unwasted as she made every effort to keep from becoming dirty, and Ichigo inwardly sighed at the sight. She had been spending too much time with Yumichika, his vice-captain encouraging her to do things beautifully. Then again, that same elegant grace could also be attributed to Byakuya, who she took after more than either of her parents.

 

Oh, the amused jokes that had spawned from Renji.

 

Ichigo fed the twins, not even flitting an eye when they ended up with more food on their bodies than in. Ryuu, unsurprisingly, was neater than his sister. Mikan kept trying to grind the food into the table and move it around with her fingers, as if attempting to paint. It was amusing, if not a bit messy.

 

Kaien and Syaoran babbled about their day, his son continually expressing his interest in becoming a Shinigami. Syaoran described the picture she had been coloring, while fending off her brother's attempts to steal something off her plate. Ichigo had the feeling that she might end up being slightly more powerful than him in the future. She was certainly able to defeat him whenever Ichigo caught them mock-wrestling, which was few and far between. Syaoran thought fighting beneath her because it was unbeautiful.

 

Ichigo was never leaving them alone with Yumichika again.

 

All in all, they managed to get through dinner unscathed but slightly dirty, and Ichigo was unsuccessfully at wiping away food that was smeared on Ryuunosuke's cheek by the time the table was cleared.

 

Rukia still had not returned.

 

He glanced at the clock. It was after dark but still rather early considering. She would probably show up in the next hour or so, when Ukitake-taichou returned to kick her out of the office.

 

“I think you managed to get more on you than in you,” Ichigo commented with a faint exhale, casting his gaze over all his children.

 

The twins grinned at him as if really understanding his words, pretending complete and total innocence. Somehow, Kaien had gotten rice in his hair. Only Syaoran seemed relatively clean, a few sauce marks on her clothing and fingers. Mikan giggled, one finger dropping down to the table where she smeared it in leftover vegetable mash.

 

“I need three pairs of hands,” their father remarked to himself, wondering how he was going to bathe all four of them, including the twins, at once.

 

“I can take the twins, Ichigo-san,” Nami offered, somehow sensing his predicament as she swirled into the room, snapping a clean towel over one shoulder. “I just finished drawing the baths.”

 

Gratitude didn't even begin to describe the feelings racing through him. “Thank you, Nami,” he replied, rising to his feet and raking a hand through his hair. He made a face, realizing that he'd had food on his fingers and had inadvertently just gotten it into his hair as well. The price paid by a father. He would need a bath, too, though his would be much later.

 

He sighed.

 

From Aizen-killing badass to Seireitei soccer mom. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

 

“That would help out a lot.”

 

Brown eyes swept over his other children as Nami cooed to the twins, not minding their mess and scooping them into her arms. They gurgled happily.

 

“Come on, brats. Time for your bath.” He hoped he didn't sound as tired as he felt.

 

Syaoran obediently slid from her chair, much easier getting up than sitting down. Kaien however, predictably began to whine. He already claimed that he was growing too old for much of everything. Ichigo wondered if he had been that difficult when he was his son's age. Frankly, he couldn't remember that far back.

 

“Tou-san,” Kaien complained, sounding younger than his sister in that moment, “I'm too old to bathe with her.”

 

The stern father glare immediately came to his eyes. “When you can take a bath by yourself than it won't matter. But for now, you'll have to deal with it,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument.

 

Kaien squirmed, obviously prepared to pout. “Awwww.”

 

Always ready to outdo her brother, Syaoran sweetly offered, “I can wait, if you want, tou-chan. I'm not too messy.”

 

Ichigo circled the table, nearing both of them. “No,” he denied with a shake of his head. “Then, you'll be late for bed. No arguments, Kaien. Not tonight.”

 

That bottom lip immediately came out as his eldest began to pout, sliding sullenly from his seat with obvious displeasure. In that moment, his resemblance to yet another one of his uncles was unimaginable. Though Ichigo doubted Toushirou would appreciate the comparison. Besides, that pout only worked on his mother.

 

The door to the kitchen opened at this point, Sanji emerging. “I can take him if you'd like, Ichigo-san,” the cook offered.

 

“Really?” Kaien immediately perked, the pout disappearing as if had never been there at all.

 

“It's no trouble,” Sanji assured.

 

“Spoiled,” Ichigo muttered, though he wasn't really irritated; Kaien got his way more often than not. “Fine. But tomorrow, you're bathing when and where I tell you to.”

 

His rebuke fell on deaf ears. Kaien was already sprinting across the floor to Sanji, taking the cook's hand and happily babbling. Watching his son go, Ichigo shook his head and offered his fingers to his daughter.

 

“Shall we?”

 

She nodded, taking his hand, and the two of them headed to the master bath. It served Kaien right. He would still have to share the other bathing room with Nami and the twins. And it was much smaller than the one he and Rukia shared.

 

Luckily, cleaning Syaoran was much easier than it would have been to bathe his son. She was content to help him strip her, and she sat patiently in the water. Kaien would have splashed all over the place, soaking Ichigo's shihakushou simply because it amused him. He wasn't necessarily a bad child, just overly energetic. Ichigo was determined to find him an output for all that energy soon, especially since Kaien wasn't attending school with the other children.

 

No, he and Byakuya had already had the discussion on that particular matter. Ichigo preferred that they attend the schools in Seireitei. Byakuya believed that they should have private tutors, like himself. Rukia had no opinion on the matter, content to let them duke it out. In the end, Ichigo had conceded. Only because Byakuya insisted on paying for everything and took it upon himself to make certain Kaien was properly learning his lessons.

 

It was a small concession. Besides, Byakuya meant well.

 

Still, Kaien's energy only served to remind Ichigo that he needed an outlet, whether it be playing with children close to his age or a hobby. A part of him thought about enrolling his son in a dojo, especially considering his interest in becoming a Shinigami. If they were in Karakura, he would have let Kaien attend Tatsuki's. But they weren't, and he would have to look around for other options if he was seriously going to consider it.

 

Syaoran was content to quietly talk to him as he washed her hair, the long strands more difficult than Kaien's short locks and the twins' head full of fuzz. But she was proud of her hair and refused to have it cut, having adopted a Byakuya-hair-flip when she was annoyed. Part of him was amused by this and the other part... well, most of him was amused by this.

 

Between Yumichika and Byakuya, he was pretty sure his oldest daughter was going to be a fine lady, if a bit bossy, by the time she grew up.

 

Hell, most of Seireitei was doing a pretty good job of helping him raise his kids. They were all excited by the prospect of children, especially since they were rather rare. It had been a long time since any of the captains or vice-captains had children. Excluding Yachiru, of course. Everyone had been ecstatic, and now, his children had a hefty collection of uncles, aunts, and grandparents, most not blood-related. And all of whom spoiled them rotten.

 

By the time Ichigo pulled Syaoran out of the water and wrapped her in a towel, Rukia still hadn't returned. A part of him wished that he felt more surprised by this fact. Instead, he was more or less resigned. It was strange. He was the captain, and yet, she required far more overtime than he.

 

“What about you, tou-chan?” Syaoran asked as he carried her into her room, setting her down on his lap.

 

He ran the towel over her, wiping up the lingering droplets and carefully scrunching it in her hair. “How was my day?” he questioned back.

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

Ichigo shrugged, musing over what had been a typical day for him. “Lots of paperwork,” he said, dropping the towel once he was convinced her hair was dry. A stretch of his arm, and he had snagged her pajamas. “The same boring stuff.”

 

She scrunched up her nose at the thought. His children had witnessed the stacks gracing his desk top.

 

“Yumi-oji-san didn't have any funny stories to tell?”

 

He lifted an eyebrow, wondering just what kind of stories his vice-captain had been telling his daughter. “None that he shared with me.”

 

Syaoran was thoughtful as she giggled, slipping her arms into the plain white nemaki as he tied the obi for her. “Ask him to tell you about Yachiru-nee-san and the pony. That one's funny.”

 

'Pony?' Ichigo wondered, trying to figure out how they'd gotten it into Soul Society.

 

“I'll do that,” he assured Syaoran, shifting position and reaching again for the hairbrush on her nightstand. “Tell me if it hurts.”

 

“Hai.”

 

She sat absolutely still as he carefully ran the brush through her hair, trying not to pull too roughly on her tangles. He was glad for all the practice he had gotten brushing Karin and Yuzu's hair, though he would never admit it to anyone aloud.

 

“Are you going to read to us tonight?” Syaoran inquired as he ran the brush through a few more times, until it lay perfectly flat against her back.

 

“Of course,” he answered, reaching to set the brush back down. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against the crown of her head. “Why don't you pick out a book while I go take care of your brother and the twins.”

 

She slid from his lap. “Anything I want?” she asked, already trotting over to her bookcase and the rapidly growing collection. Everyone knew that she was becoming an avid reader.

 

“Anything you want,” he confirmed, rising to his feet and ignoring the creak in his back. Ichigo hesitated a moment, watching her purse her lips in intent decision-making before heading towards the door.

 

“Is okaa-san coming home tonight?”

The query made him pause, and he looked back at her with a smile. “Of course. She'll be here to tuck you in.”

 

Syaoran was clearly pleased by this, giving him back a beaming grin before returning to her perusal. “Okay.”

 

And that was that.

 

Ichigo left, convinced that his daughter would be fine for the ten minutes or so he would need to take care of the other three. He peeked into Kaien's room as he passed. His son wasn't finished yet, so he continued towards the twins' shared room.

 

Nami was chuckling as she ran towels over both of them, carefully drying the fuzz on the top of their heads.

 

“Need a hand?” Ichigo asked, stepping into the room.

 

She looked over her shoulder at him with a smile. “It was easy enough getting them wet,” the housekeeper responded with some amusement.

 

On closer inspection, it was revealed that Mikan kept grabbing the towel, trying to drag it nearer to examine. His youngest daughter was inquisitive about everything it seemed.

 

Ichigo chuckled fondly, reaching for Ryuu and grabbing his towel. Wanting to mimic his sister, Ichigo found himself occasionally extracting the folds of the cloth from his son's surprisingly strong grip. Still, getting the twins dried and clothed was inevitably going to be much easier than preparing Kaien for bed.

 

“She is so much more energetic than her brother,” Nami remarked, deftly dodging a playfully kicking foot.

 

Mikan gurgled happily, eyes sparkling as if she knew she was teasing the older woman.

 

Ichigo, meanwhile, was setting Ryuu into bed with relative ease. “Rukia is convinced Mikan takes after her grandfather, kami help us all.”

 

He shuddered, thinking of Isshin. His father loved them dearly, but the man was insane. He was terrified that the insanity might have passed to his children.

 

Nami's arm brushed his as she finally managed to coax a gurgling Mikan in next to her brother. Twin sets of teal eyes looked up at Ichigo adoringly, though Ryuu's were already fluttering tiredly.

 

“They are beautiful,” Nami said with a wistful sigh. “Will you need my help with anything else, Ichigo-san?”

 

He shook his head, slipping one hand down and watching Mikan curl her fingers around it, squeezing faintly. “Just keep an ear out for them while I save Sanji from Kaien. Syaoran's in her room, too.”

 

His housekeeper nodded, watching as he leaned over and kissed his children on the forehead. It seemed to soothe Mikan's frustrated coos, and she quieted as Ichigo pulled the blankets over them. After a brief moment of wrestling where Ryuu submitted to his sister's feisty demands, they calmed, eventually curling together.

 

One small fist reached out and popped Ryuu on the shoulder, the boy squinting his face in annoyance. Ichigo chuckled, brushing his fingers over Mikan's forehead.

 

“Stop teasing your brother,” he chastised as if she could truly understand him.

 

Whether she did or not, Mikan finally settled down and closed her eyes.

 

Ichigo straightened, the fond look still on his face. “Good night, little ones.”

 

In the background, Nami busied herself with tidying the mess from their bath, gathering up dirtied clothes and towels.

 

The sound of laughter floated to Ichigo's ears. Kaien's.

 

“You're still wet, Kaien-kun,” Ichigo heard Sanji's voice chastise. “What would your otou-san say?”

 

He looked up, watching as the two passed by the doorway. Sanji was visibly wrestling with a squirming Kaien, the boy dripping water all over the wooden floor. It would have to be mopped later.

 

Shaking his head, Ichigo moved to follow. “He would say that his son had better not be misbehaving,” the captain inserted as he slipped into the room after them.

 

He caught sight of a blue-eyed mischievous look as Sanji set Kaien on the ground, still wrapped up in the fluffy towel. The boy knew very well what he was doing and seemed to delight in making things difficult for his father.

 

“Thanks, Sanji. I know that's outside your realm,” Ichigo said, strolling over.

 

The cook shrugged, the few spots of water on his shirt proving that he hadn't emerged completely unscathed. “Easy enough. I have younger siblings.” He patted Kaien on the head. “I'll just clean up the kitchen, and then, I'll be done, Ichigo-san.”

 

Ichigo inclined his head. “See you in the morning,” he responded then turned his attention to his son, looking down at the boy. “Did you at least attempt to behave?”

 

Kaien nodded, his father kneeling beside him and tugging him closer by the towel. “Sanji's funny,” the boy began as Ichigo grabbed the cotton and tried to remove the rest of the water. “He was telling me about his littlest brother.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah. He said we should play together sometime.”

 

Ichigo smiled, liking the idea of that. If anything, it might help disperse some of Kaien's extra energy.

 

“Maybe. If you're good. Sanji doesn't want to watch someone who misbehaves.”

 

“I'm always good,” Kaien grumbled as his father rubbed the towel over his hair, sending it sticking it up in all directions. “I'm dry enough, tou-san.”

 

“Water is still on your back,” Ichigo countered with some amusement as he rose to his feet, dropping the towel on his son's head. He moved to the closet to gather Kaien's nemaki, bracing himself for the difficult task of wrestling his son into it.

 

The pitter-patter of bare feet on polished wood floated to his ears. He looked over his shoulder, only to find that Kaien was gone. A small puddle on the floor was the only indication that the boy had ever been there. That and the dropped towel.

 

Ichigo sighed, grabbing the nemaki with one hand and slinging it over his shoulders. Every night. Kaien did this nearly every night. He would almost feel sorry for Isshin after enduring this if it weren't for the truth of the matter. Isshin was ten times worse as a father than Ichigo had ever been as a child.

 

Leaving the room, Ichigo prepared to start the hunt, wondering if he should cheat by following the boy's reiatsu. He passed by Syaoran's room, a quick peek ensuring him that she was fine and patiently waiting.

 

“He went towards the kitchen, tou-chan,” she called as he passed.

 

And thus, the chase began, following the sounds of his son's giggling as he ran naked through the house. Ichigo was already storing this nightly event for future embarrassment, something to remind a grown-up Kaien of how unruly he had been.

 

He knew that Nami was watching, had passed her a few times, but she never once offered to help. Her eyes merely sparkled with amusement as she continued cleaning, sometimes gesturing with a look the last direction Kaien had taken.

 

Ichigo wasn't really angry to be honest. He was tired after working all day, but this had almost become a game between he and his son. Kaien would never do this to Rukia... or Byakuya, for that matter. He seemed to derive great pleasure in making things difficult for his father alone.

 

With a flit of shunpo and admittedly a bit of cheating, he grabbed Kaien by the midsection just as the boy darted across the hall that led to the front door. The boy squirmed and laughed in his grasp.

 

“You cheated!” he accused, lightly tapping his father with his fist.

 

“Parent,” Ichigo reminded him.

 

It was then that the door opened. Rukia stepped through, not even surprised to see father and son wrestling in the hallway, even if said son was naked and still dripping somewhat.

 

“Welcome home,” Ichigo greeted, his smile tired as he scooped up his son and rose to his feet. He stepped forward, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.

 

She made a noncommittal noise in her throat, accepting the affection, but her gaze cast away from him. “Finally,” she agreed with a faint exhale, the dark circles beneath her eyes seemingly emphasized with the light of the hallway.

 

Stepping forward briefly, Rukia pressed her lips to her son's forehead. He didn't squirm away, which Ichigo noticed with some amusement.

 

“Hey, sweetie.”

 

“Long day?” Ichigo asked as he joggled Kaien in his arms, one hand running over the wet hair and idly wiping the excess water on his hakama.

 

Rukia nodded, slipping out of her waraji with fatigued movements. “As always.”

 

“Sanji left something for you,” Ichigo informed her as he turned down the hall, preparing to carry Kaien back towards his bedroom.

 

“I'm sorry,” Rukia apologized, setting her waraji off to the side and stepping up beside him. “I didn't mean to be so late.”

 

The captain shrugged. It stopped bothering him after the first week. As they walked, Nami passed by them, tipping her head in farewell.

 

“The twins are fast asleep, and Syaoran-chan patiently awaits her bedtime story, Ichigo-san,” Nami informed him, fondly patting Kaien on the head. “Oyasumi.”

 

Ichigo smiled. “Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

 

Dark brown eyes flickered to Rukia, and Nami dipped her head. “Oyasumi, Kurosaki-fukutaichou.”

 

“Oyasumi.”

 

Nami slipped past them and continued down the corridor, her duties for the evening completed. Rukia watched her exit for all of a minute before drawing up beside her husband, giving her eldest son a fond smile.

 

“Giving your tou-san trouble again, Kaien?” she asked, reaching out and patting down his wet hair. She, too, was well-used to nightly Kurosaki chases.

 

Kaien squirmed in Ichigo's arms, making it difficult for his father to carry him. “Nope,” he lied good-naturedly, obviously expressing a desire to get down or be transferred to his mother. “Tou-saaaaan.”

 

Ichigo firmly shook his head. “Let okaa-san have her dinner. I'm going to read you and your sister a story.”

 

The boy pouted, giving his father a stare of annoyance that was pure, scowling Ichigo. Rukia grinned despite her fatigue and laughed quietly. Kaien might have been energetic, but he took after his father more than both of them realized.

 

“Are you sure?” she asked Ichigo, not wanting him to have to do it all himself.

 

He nodded. “I can do it. Go on before it gets any colder, love.”

 

Visibly relieved, Rukia squeezed his arm warmly and moved the other direction, heading for the kitchen. As she walked, she loosened the straps of the vice-captain's badge on her upper arm. Though they had fallen out of use before the war with Aizen, in an effort to promote unity and keep order, Yamamoto-soutaichou had commanded that they be worn at all times.

 

In his arms, Kaien shifted, visibly sulking. “I wanted to see okaa-san,” he moaned disconsolately.

 

Despite knowing it would irritate his son, Ichigo pressed a kiss to the boy's forehead. “She'll come in to see you before you sleep,” he assured.

 

“It's not the same.”

 

A child's conclusion.

 

Ichigo chuckled at his son. “Okaa-san's busier than I am. You know that.”

 

Unfortunately, his explanation did not sit well with his son. Kaien sulked the entire time Ichigo managed to get him dressed in his nemaki. Even the prospect of a bedtime story didn't perk him up, which might have partly been due to the fact that his sister had selected the story for the night.

 

Sleeping Beauty was far from one of Kaien's favorites, though he did enjoy hearing about the strong and brave prince who fought off the evil witch. Syaoran liked it because it had “beauty” in the title. Yumichika's influence once more.

 

With Syaoran propped up in his lap, holding the book, and Kaien sitting against his side, Ichigo enjoyed the calm quiet of his evening. He read aloud, occasionally letting Syaoran take over when there were words she had come to recognize. By the time he turned the last page, he realized Rukia was standing in the doorway, listening to him read.

 

“My turn,” she announced, sounding a bit less tired than before. It was likely due to having a full meal rather than whatever she had hastily grabbed at work.

 

Kaien immediately stopped sulking, brightening considerably. Ichigo guided a sleepy Syaoran off his lap and onto her bed.

 

“We were waiting for you,” the boy thought it fit to announce.

 

Ichigo bent down and kissed Syaoran and ruffled Kaien's hair, which stuck in all directions now that it had dried. “Goodnight, guys. Sweet dreams,” he murmured, rising and heading for the door, and Rukia looked at him as he approached. “I leave them in your hands,” Ichigo explained before raking fingers through his hair and grimacing at the food remnants. “I need a bath.”

 

Her eyes flickered to the bits of vegetable mash. “Mikan again?”

 

“Guilty as charged.” He stepped past her as his children chorused a good night to him before turning their eager attention on their mother.

 

Heh. Traitors.

 

Ichigo peeked into the twin's room as he went by, glad to find that they were sleeping peacefully as Nami had claimed, and then continued to his own bedroom. Once within, he gratefully stripped off his shihakushou, leaving it in a pile on the floor. The captain's haori was carefully hung on the rack; he had only two, after all. Unlike some rich bastards.

 

The warmth of steam hit him in the face as he opened the door to the bath, and he was again grateful for Nami. She knew enough to draw a fresh bath for him before she left, perfectly judging the right temperature so that it would still be hot by the time he was able to get to it.

 

Ichigo settled into the water with a relieved sigh. A minute of peace stole over him, surprising him with its silence and lack of movement. After becoming a father, moments like these became few and far in between. So he relished what relaxation he could get.

 

He let his mind drift away, refusing to think of the office or the recommendations and evaluations he was required to fill out the next morning. He washed automatically, ducking his head under the water several times, and idly wishing that there was something still left to fight.

 

It was almost absurdly peaceful now with only the Hollows in the real world to worry about. Not even a rogue Espada had been left behind after the war and the subsequent clean up. A part of him missed those days, fighting so ingrained into him from the moment he had become a Shinigami. He knew he was getting out of practice. The last he had found time to spar must have been a month ago. It was so bad even Kenpachi had stopped asking him. The only sword-work he did was when he went out into the field or when he was helping to train those in his division. He did the bare minimum needed to retain his own skills.

 

Ichigo was ashamed to admit that a part of him wished for a battle of some kind.

 

Those thoughts bounced around in his head. When he finally emerged from the water some time later, his fingers were pruny. He toweled off quickly, leaving the cotton on his head, as he dressed in his own nemaki and stepped into the bedroom.

 

Rukia was already there, clothed in her pale blue nemaki. She usually took her baths in the morning. It was another one of the reasons she woke up earlier than he.

 

“They already asleep?”

 

She nodded where she at the small desk, legs tucked beneath her and eyes running over a few stacks of paperwork she had brought home with her. “Kaien seems tired.”

 

Ichigo ran the towel over his hair. “I think he was sparring with Renji a bit today,” he responded, wondering how the thirteenth could accrue that much work.

 

“Aspirations to being a Shinigami already,” Rukia replied thoughtfully, a light chuckle escaping her before she returned her full attention back to her papers.

 

The towel joined the pile of dirty clothes on the floor as he glanced at her stack. “Those two not doing their share again?” he questioned, referring to Kiyone and Sentarou.

 

Rukia didn't even look up at him. “We're in the process of getting and incorporating new officers, Ichigo. I've mentioned this already.” She paused, a faint frown marring her pretty features as the brush continued to swipe over the parchment. “I have to pick up the slack.”

 

Brown eyes watched her for a moment before Ichigo lowered himself into the seat next to her, leaning in with the intention of kissing her on the neck. She ever-so-subtly leaned away, however, and he stopped in his tracks. The moment stretched into eternity as Ichigo pulled back and abruptly grabbed half the stack of papers.

 

She looked up, startled. “What are you doing?”

 

“Isn't it obvious?” he asked as he pulled out a spare brush and dipped it into the inkwell. He bent his head and began to work.

 

Silence descended, the only sound that of papers rustling and brushes sweeping over them. They didn't speak. Whether it was awkward or not wasn't Ichigo's concern. It was the distance that was so obvious. They were near enough that their elbows occasionally brushed, but it couldn't have felt any farther part. He would have reached through their soul-bond, but it was just as distant as they were. Tired and muted, if still there.

 

It was both frustrating and saddening.

 

The minutes ticked by, the clock in the hall a constant and steady beat to his ears.

 

A cry of displeasure disturbed the uneasy quiet, one of the twins waking up and seeking out attention from either parent. Rukia set down her brush, fully intending to rise, but she wasn't quick enough. Ichigo was already on his feet, moving from the room and adjusting his clothing from where it had shifted.

 

Rukia listened to the sounds of her husband moving through the house, making his way to the twins' room. She couldn't make out the words, but she heard the timber of his voice, speaking softly. It was likely Mikan he was soothing. Ryuunosuke rarely cried.

 

The vice-captain shook her head and finished the last of her work. Thanks to Ichigo, she had only a few pages left, and they were completed in a matter of minutes. Rising from her desk, she flipped off the main light, preparing for bed. It was early, far earlier than she usually laid down, but the thought of staying up was not appealing either. Her body was tired; her mind was tired. Her heart was tired.

 

Sometime later, she felt Ichigo return to the room. He extinguished the light she had left on for him, his movements quiet with the intent not to disturb her. He couldn't have known that she was pretending to be asleep, just listening to the sound of him.

 

The futon dipped briefly as he crawled into bed beside her, hesitating before remaining on his side. They used to curl rather close together, sharing each other's warm. The very thought caused something to clench inside her, along with the sobering truth.

 

Now, they fell asleep in silence.

 

In the morning, when Ichigo woke, Rukia had already left for work.

 

*****

 

Translator's notes:

 

nemaki: a light cotton kimono for sleeping

waraji: the sandals the shinigami wear