Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Of Violence ❯ Complaints ( Chapter 5 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Of Violence

Chapter Five: Complaints

Morning came, and nothing had changed in their routine. The children were woken, dressed, and fed, then left in the hands of their nanny. Tohru, a middle-aged woman, had proven to be quite adept at keeping an eye on four kids at once. Ichigo and Rukia had depended on her since Syaoran's birth. Of course, they only required her services when Byakuya was also working and Jyuushiro as well since he often wanted to take the children.

Stony silence continued between Rukia and him. He noticed it and said nothing, a part of him relieved when she left for the office before he did. Besides, he was worried enough, dreading going into work.

It normally didn't take him that long to get to the fifth, especially when he was feeling energetic enough to shunpo. However, the short distance seemed especially long today. He felt as if eyes were watching him, carefully measuring his every move. The sound of barely hushed whispers grated on his nerves, and he knew that the events of yesterday had not been as contained as he had hoped.

The sense of dread inside of him continued to grow, sitting heavy and cold in the pit of his belly. Never once had he wanted to go into the office as little as he currently did.

Worse, those staring were mostly unseated Shinigami, names he would never be able to remember. The incident had sifted down into the lower ranks, likely passing by word of mouth until it seemed everyone would find out.

Even Byakuya.

Ichigo was already apprehensive of that particular conversation, wanting to avoid the look he might see on the other man's face. He wasn't even certain he could anticipate Byakuya's reaction. He only hoped that pity wouldn't be part of it.

By the time he arrived at the office, Ichigo's mood had completely plummeted. While he hadn't exactly woken in good spirits, he hadn't plunged into gloom just yet. Now, he was wallowing in it.

He passed by a few from his own division, a polite “Ohayou gozaimasu, Kurosaki-taichou” emerging from them before they hurried off to their duties. They were acting as if nothing was wrong, smiles on their faces and not a hint of whispers. They had to have known, which meant that they were pretending nothing was wrong.

Ichigo wasn't certain if he was relieved or irritated by that.

He stepped into the main office, closing the door behind him. Yumichika looked up at his entrance, rising to his feet.

“Good morning, Ichigo-kun,” his vice-captain greeted, following him as he opened the door to his personal office and stepped inside.

He couldn't find it in him to offer the pleasantry, only capable of grunting what could vaguely be construed as acknowledgment of Yumichika's presence. Ichigo unstrapped Zangetsu from his back, setting his zanpakutou on the sword stand off to the side, which was well within reaching distance.

“Everyone knows, don't they?”

Behind him, Yumichika nodded. “Well, Matsumoto and those fools were here.” He crossed his arms. “It's not unexpected.”

Plopping behind his desk, Ichigo sighed, rubbing his forehead. He had suspected as much, which was the exact reason he had purposely kept it a secret. No one needed to know. He didn't need help.

Silence swept through the room as Yumichika cast for something to say to his captain.

“For what it's worth, I'm sorry, taichou,” the vice-captain finally said quietly, purple eyes apologetic.

Ichigo looked up, confusion furrowing his brow. He wasn't sure what his subordinate was apologizing for, why he would need to express his regret. He couldn't have known what Yumichika had done. Instead, Ichigo simply inclined his head in acceptance before lowering it back to his hands, burying his face in his palms.

Awkward did not begin to describe the emotions coursing through Yumichika as he cast for something else to say.

“I'd like to be alone if you don't mind.”

Yumichika sucked in his lip before nodding. “Of course.”

He turned and left, careful to softly close the door behind him. The sense of uselessness warred strongly in the vice-captain, increasing his own sorrow. He wished that there was something he was capable of doing to help his captain. The sight of strong Ichigo, usually so determined and confident, looking defeated seemed so very wrong.

Left behind in his office, Ichigo dismally wondered how much worse it was going to get. The stares and the whispers were already more than he was willing to deal with. His division acting way too perfect and unconcerned was strange, and his vice-captain was apologetic for reasons only Yumichika knew. He still hadn't managed to speak to Rukia civilly, not even exchanging any words since the night before.

His life was crashing around him, strained edges cracking and dropping to the floor in broken pieces. His kids were worried, and he knew that people would start asking questions. They would wonder. But he had no excuses or explanations, nothing to offer them.

And then, the ever more pressing worry. What was he going to say to Byakuya?

He dreaded his family finding out, partially worried for Rukia's safety once Karin learned the unspeakable truth. He could just imagine his sisters' reactions, Yuzu's horror and then immediate concern. She was such a kind heart. Isshin's reaction was far beyond his comprehension; his mind wisely strayed away from any sort of hypothesis on that matter.

Mostly, however, he was worried about Rukia and what the knowledge would change for her. He had never once in his mind called her an abuser, but he knew that the term was going to be thrown around constantly now. Everyone would be using it, looking at her, whispering it beneath their breaths.

They would treat her differently now, talking about her behind her back. And it would break her.

Dammit, this was the reason he had never wanted anyone to know. Not only for himself but for her as well. He didn't want anyone to hate Rukia because they had no right to, none at all. If anyone had a right to despise his wife, it was him, but he didn't. He loved her. Yet, Ichigo knew that they would do it anyway.

It was his damn marriage and his damn wife and his damn problem. They weren't hurting anyone, expect perhaps themselves. Ichigo forcefully stayed away from thoughts of the effect it might have on their children. He had been careful, or as much as he thought he could be, making sure they only fought when the kids were asleep or not there. Yet, Kaien's innocent inquiry and Syaoran's offhand comment had proven that he hadn't been successful.

Which made him think that Byakuya's source of information might have been closer to him than he would have thought. If Rukia hadn't told and he hadn't, that left only the servants. Or his children. And Ichigo was more inclined to believe the latter. Children were incredibly honest in their innocence, especially when concerned.

On that note, Ichigo's mind started churning wheels of another sort, recalling what Rukia had said about Byakuya and him. His wife had basically accused them of having an affair, which was utterly ridiculous. She knew better than that. It simply made no sense. Byakuya was his brother-in-law, his best friend, nothing more than that. There wasn't anything between them.

Ichigo sighed, fingers digging painfully into his scalp. He needed to pull himself out of this gut-churning rut. There were things he had to do, work to complete, despite the shitty turn his life had taken. There was no room for slacking off on the job.

Raking a hand through his hair, Ichigo reached for the stack of paperwork Yumichika had left for him. His vice-captain was always prepared and prompt. He knew from the beginning that he had made a good choice.

But his hand froze halfway to the stack, eyes locked on the folded paper decorating the top. Yamamoto-soutaichou's symbol stood out prominently, and he knew without even having to open it, though he did, exactly what it was. The day couldn't possibly get any worse.

Growling under his breath, he snatched the paper and unfolded it, quickly scanning the words. As he had suspected, it was a summons. Officially, it stated that he was invited to share breakfast with the captain-commander, due to start in twenty minutes. Ichigo knew that it was in all honesty a command. Yamamoto expected him to come without argument, no excuses allowed.

Ichigo refolded the paper and left it on his desk as he rose to his feet. Groaning at the thought of sharing breakfast with the crafty old man, he grabbed Zangetsu and strapped his zanpakutou to his back.

He left his office. Yumichika looked up as the door opened, his eyes carefully blank.

“I'll be at the first division,” Ichigo explained gruffly, already dreading the conversation. It didn't take a genius to figure out what exactly Yamamoto wanted to discuss.

His vice-captain inclined his head. “Don't worry. I will keep an eye on things here.”

Ichigo refrained from answering, knowing that much himself. He headed for the door and was out of his division in less than a second. Though it was unnecessary, he used shunpo for his entire trip. He simply didn't want to see the stares he would undoubtedly be given.

*****

Yamamoto Genryuusai Shigekuni was having a rather difficult day, or to be more precise, a difficult morning. He sat back, lighting his pipe, and puffed on it thoughtfully as one of his servants slowly set out food for the breakfast he had ordered Kurosaki-taichou attend.

In all his years of being captain-commander, he had never encountered a situation quite like the one he was about to address. Not to say that complaints hadn't been made before. In the past, he had received comments, one from a lower seat from another division, who had claimed to witness something. And another from Kurosaki's own vice-captain, but there was nothing concrete. And since Kurosaki hadn't made a complaint, his hands had been tied in that regards.

In his heart, he had hoped that the situation would resolve itself, that it was a one-time occurrence and his interference would be unnecessary.

That hope had proven to be fruitless yesterday afternoon. After the event, so carefully described by the numerous visitors he had received, Yamamoto found himself in an awkward position. He now had no choice but to at least question Kurosaki-taichou and discover if the boy really needed aid or not.

Yesterday had started with Matsumoto-fukutaichou's visit, strongly unprecedented. Honestly, he wasn't aware she knew the exact location of his office, which he moved frequently around the first division to avoid unwanted and unnecessary complaints. He had explained it as a need for a change of scenery. In reality, he only wanted to hear the problems of those determined enough to seek him out.

In any case, the jiggling woman's visit had been brief but full of information. She was concerned for Kurosaki-taichou, describing in detail what she had witnessed in his office. Matsumoto-fukutaichou had eventually departed, leaving behind a plea that he do something about the matter, though what exactly she had left purposefully vague. Somehow, he had a migraine by the time she flitted out the doorway.

There were a few other visitors immediately following, most from several unseated Shinigami, whose witnessed accounts would hold no bearing. He could only assure them that he would look into it before sending the quivering few on their way. He honestly couldn't understand their trembling; he'd only let out a little reiatsu.

The old man had then taken an early lunch, having the sneaky suspicion that he would be getting visits similar to those all day. He had been correct. By the time he returned, his dearest children were waiting for him, Jyuushiro's third-seats hiding behind their captain with widened eyes. Again, he couldn't imagine why.

Shunsui and his friend had taken more time to explain the situation, Jyuushiro prompting his third-seats to explain what they had seen. Eyes cast to the floor and mumbling out their tale in a strangely subdued manner, both Kiyone and Sentarou had scampered back to the relative safety behind their captain the moment their tale was through.

Yamamoto had noticed that Shunsui seemed particularly angered, his lips set in a thin line of displeasure that he'd rarely witnessed before. Though that might have been due to the distinct air of sobriety hanging around the man. Yamamoto never could be sure.

Once his third-seats had spoken, Jyuushiro then took the opportunity to describe Kuchiki-taichou's visit and complaint that morning. Although it had been given in confidence, Jyuushiro explained that considering the situation, it was best he pass it on to the captain-commander.

The migraine he had been combating all morning returned full-force. Jyuushiro was both earnest and concerned, obviously locked in a mental war with himself. He didn't know what to do, and Yamamoto knew that probably bothered the younger captain the most. Jyuushiro was so used to being able to handle any situation.

Both Shunsui and Jyuushiro might have continued speaking to him even more extensively, but as it were, they had been interrupted by another visitor for Yamamoto. Ayasegawa-fukutaichou was waiting patiently for a chance to speak with him, undoubtedly about the same topic as all of Yamamoto's other petitioners.

His dear children took that chance to exit, taking the frightened third-seats with them and leaving Ayasegawa and he to their conversation. The vice-captain had apologized for interrupting before repeating the same concerns as before, a fire alit in his eyes. That determination only further highlighted the Kurosaki boy's ability to incite loyalty and love in all who knew him.

It was a Yamamoto trait, the captain-commander imagined, puffing the last bits of tobacco from his pipe. Got it from his great grandfather, though it had somehow skipped over the boy's crazy father.

Honestly, Kurosaki had even managed to capture the heart of the Kuchiki glacier, even if neither of them knew it.

Ayasegawa-fukutaichou refused to depart until he had agreed to at least speak with Kurosaki and address the matter. Not even Yamamoto's careful application of increased reiatsu could sway the vice-captain to leave. Ayasegawa had just continued to stare with that hard glint in his eyes, hands folded delicately in his lap, completely unperturbed.

Dammit, he was one of the few that trick didn't work on.

By the time he convinced Ayasegawa to leave, the day was approaching dusk. Most of his officers had already left, including his own vice-captain. Yamamoto had resolved to solve everything in the morning, thus his current plans of breakfast with Kurosaki.

But before he could escape for the day, he had been nearly frozen in his tracks by a curt and obviously annoyed Hitsugaya-taichou.

“The Kurosaki's are fighting, sir,” he had said very abruptly. “Do something.”

Yamamoto hadn't even had time to blink before the boy was gone, obviously convinced that he had done his civic duty for the day. Well, at least his visit had been incredibly short, remarkably mimicking the icy captain's stature.

With one last puff, Yamamoto extinguished his pipe and dismissed his servants. It was just in time for Kurosaki to arrive, the boy being shown in by the first division's vice-captain. The young captain had a wary scowl firmly in place.

Yamamoto hid his amused grin behind his tea cup. “Kurosaki-taichou, thank you for joining me for breakfast.”

Setting Zangetsu in the stand near the door, Ichigo carefully lowered himself to the floor on the other side of the table. “Yes, soutaichou,” he responded, obviously being as minimalistic as possible.

The food was already laid out between them, steaming and mouth-wateringly delicious, ready for consumption. Yamamoto was the first to pick up his chopsticks, Ichigo following at a more sedate pace. They began eating in absolute silence. The captain-commander was thoroughly enjoying his breakfast, inwardly praising his cook. Kurosaki, however, was picking at his, eating only enough to be polite.

Yamamoto knew he had great stores of patience, wondering if the silence would unnerve Kurosaki enough to speak first. It was plainly obvious that the boy was inwardly stewing, clearly irritated, and resolved to let him continue to simmer. It often worked in the old man's favor when trying to ferret out information.

The entire breakfast was spent in a clear-cut silence, the only sound that of quiet chewing and dishes moving across the table. The servants came in to clear away the remnants of the completed meal without anything having been said.

Kurosaki had completely turned inwards, and it became obvious when he began to think about everything that was impacting his life. His face, usually full of scowls or pinched brows, was starting to flicker with dread and worry. The thoughts were bouncing around in his head repeatedly with nothing to distract him in the silence.

Yamamoto decided it was the perfect time to make his attack.

Setting down his cup, he noisily cleared his throat. “Kurosaki-taichou, is there anything you would like to discuss with me?”

The boy blinked as if coming from a very far place, lifting up his fallen gaze. “Nothing I'd like to discuss, sir.”

Very polite. An oddity for the usually gruff captain. Not that the boy hadn't any manners, just that he chose when and where to use them. And Yamamoto did not fail to catch his stress on the term “like.”

He shifted, fixing the boy with a firm, yet gentle stare. “Are you certain?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

Yamamoto lifted a brow, choosing to go about this at another route. Obviously, direct questions were not going to have an effect. At least, not without a little preparation first.

“I had some very interesting visitors yesterday, Kurosaki-taichou,” he began experimentally, redirecting the conversation as he shifted to get comfortable.

Kurosaki made a non-committal noise, a response unnecessary.

Inwardly, Yamamoto grinned. He hadn't this much fun questioning someone since his last conversation with Urahara. That boy had been a master of double-speak, giving as good as he got.

“They told me some very--” He cleared his throat very loudly. “--Interesting things. Particularly about an incident earlier in the day.”

Brown eyes lowered back to the table as the young captain listened, hands dropping to settle on his knees.

Yamamoto continued, “First, there was Matsumoto-fukutaichou. She seemed especially concerned. And then, shortly thereafter, both Kyouraku-taichou and Ukitake-taichou. And of course, the third-seats from the thirteenth division.” He paused, letting Kurosaki stew on this before continuing, changing the order of his visitors only slightly. “To my utmost surprise, I was then visited by Hitsugaya-taichou, strangely enough.”

Still no reaction. Oh, the boy was good. Yamamoto wondered if he had practiced that stone-faced expression. He had probably been expecting the inquiry. Well, no matter. He had two thousand years on the boy. He wouldn't even see the next one coming.

The captain-commander whipped out the last punch. “And lastly, your very own fukutaichou.”

This seemed to have an effect. Kurosaki-taichou's head jerked up in stunned surprise, clearly not expecting his vice-captain to have said something. Yamamoto knew that the fifth division was drawing together in a loyal net, staunchly refusing to speak. Though he doubted that Kurosaki had ordered them to do so.

Pretending he hadn't noticed the boy's reaction, Yamamoto blithely continued, “Ayasegawa-fukutaichou was especially solicitous and has been for some time. This was not his first visit to my office.”

Eyes widening noticeably, Kurosaki very subtly paled. He only noticed it because he was looking for it, catching the boy as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Yet, no comment was made.

“Are you absolutely certain there is nothing you would like to say?” Yamamoto prompted, certain he had pinned Kurosaki right where he wanted him. “Think carefully, Kurosaki-taichou. I assure you, any issues will be appropriately handled.”

The boy's lips had thinned. It was almost as if he had to force the words out through him, jaw clenched determinedly.

“No, sir. I do not believe that I have any problems at the moment.”

Reluctantly, Yamamoto conceded defeat. There was nothing he could do if Kurosaki was unwilling to file a complaint.

He sighed heavily. “Very well.” He waited a few moments more to see if it would prompt Kurosaki to speak, but the boy remained silent. “Carry on, Kurosaki-taichou.”

“Yes, sir.”

Within seconds, Yamamoto's office was empty of his youngest captain, only the barest hints of his reiatsu lingered.

The old man rubbed his forehead and called for his vice-captain to summon Kuchiki-taichou; after all, the entire mess had started with him. Since Kurosaki was being close-mouthed, he had to rely on other witnesses, and he had learned from Jyuushiro that it was Kuchiki's fault to begin with.

And then, on second thought, he sent a summons for Kurosaki-fukutaichou as well, wanting to hear her side of the story. If indeed, she was willing to give any story at all.

He had the feeling today was going to be a long day.

*****

Ichigo returned to his office, his eyes catching Yumichika's the moment he walked through the door. He understood in that startling second just what his vice-captain had been apologizing for earlier. He couldn't find it in himself to be angry, however, knowing that Yumichika had done it entirely out of concern.

He kept his silence, entering his office and shutting the door behind him. Normally, he would leave it open as was his usual policy. But instead, he closed it, letting everyone know he didn't want to be disturbed. He knew Yumichika would make sure of that.

The moment he sat down, his head found his hands, and he stared at the grainy wood of his desktop. He had understood the purpose of Yamamoto naming names. The old man had wanted him to know that it wasn't just an idle rumor, that he had options. But the captain-commander wouldn't understand.

Ichigo wasn't asking for help, even if it was being offered. It irked him that people thought he needed it.

His fingers clenched against his scalp, his feelings warring between irritation and anger. He was at a loss for what to do now, knowing that everything was going to gradually explode around him.

A commotion outside his door distracted him from wallowing in the situation, making him think he had a visitor. He cursed the shielding in his office. He couldn't sense worth a shit with it in place. He wondered if it was Byakuya.

Ichigo was proven wrong when the door burst open, allowing both Jyuushiro and Shunsui to enter. They were visiting. Oh, joy.

Normally, he was pretty happy to see Ukitake and mostly indifferent about Shunsui. But today, he was apathetic. It couldn't have been a mere coincidence.

Shunsui was the first to barge in, Jyuushiro trailing after with an apology in his eyes.

“Ichigo-kun!” Shunsui declared in a jovial tone, ever-present hat cocked to the side. “It's been a long time since I've seen you.”

Ichigo resisted the urge to roll his eyes, though he was strongly tempted to. “It was two days ago at the captain's meeting.”

“Which you slept through,” Jyuushiro commented, reminding his oldest and dearest friend.

The eighth-division captain waved off the reminder nonchalantly as he plopped down at the table in Ichigo's office. “I just thought I'd come by to share a drink with you,” he said, wriggling his sake jug demonstratively.

Ichigo had risen to his feet, not sure if his intention was to join them or throw them out. But somehow, his feet found themselves moving to the table anyway. He sat down next to Shunsui, Jyuushiro lowering himself on Ichigo's other side until he was trapped between the two senior captains. He sensed a plot.

Humming under his breath, Shunsui magically produced two bowls from seemingly nowhere, setting one down in front of Ichigo. Sake immediately sloshed into the cream-colored porcelain, looking oh-so-inviting. Ichigo could feel the thirst drying out his mouth.

“And how are the kids?” Shunsui began conversationally, pouring his own, but Ichigo noticed it wasn't near as full as his. “Do they miss their favorite grandfather?”

Jyuushiro rolled his eyes.

It felt so damn surreal.

Before Ichigo even realized what he was doing, sarcasm spilled from his lips. “Yes. They miss their Jyuu-chan.” He fingered the bowl in front of him, finger tracing the curve, knowing that he shouldn't but really wanting to. “They keep asking when he'll come over for dinner again.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, probably because he had just cracked something similar to a joke, before Shunsui chuckled and shook his head. He was unsure if he should be offended by the response or not. Jyuushiro was surprised at the younger man's sarcasm, though he recognized the note of tension in Ichigo's voice.

Shunsui looked at his best friend, attempting watery doe-eyes for some sympathy. “Mah. Jyuu-chan's always more popular than me,” he complained, tipping back his drink and swallowing the alcohol in one quick and well-practiced move.

The smile on Jyuushiro's lips was thin at best, obviously strained. “I can't imagine why.”

The temptation had become too much for Ichigo. Fuck it.

He grabbed the bowl and abruptly tossed down the sake, enjoying the almost numbing burn. Shunsui always had the good stuff, smooth as it flowed down his throat. The moment his bowl touched the table top, Shunsui was filling it again, though it didn't stop him from babbling in the background. He probably hoped the sake would get Ichigo uninhibited enough to talk.

He was going to be very surprise.

“It's the hair,” Shunsui was replying on the edge of Ichigo's attention, his lips quirking in amusement. “It has to be the hair.”

The second bowl-full went down as quickly as the first. Shunsui's continuous blather became a drone in the back of Ichigo's conscious. Jyuushiro was noticeably silent, his eyes seemingly locked on the younger captain. Ichigo wondered if the two of them had even noticed that he wasn't speaking anymore, just drinking whatever Shunsui saw fit to pour for him.

Shunsui talked. Ichigo drank.

Then, a hand settled on his arm, stilling his movement in the midst of bringing the bowl up to his lips one more time.

“I think you've had enough.”

Jyuushiro's voice washed gently over him. It should have been soothing, but Ichigo could only find irritation.

He blinked, unsure of how many he had actually had. His eyes fell to the table, where Shunsui was preparing to cork the jug. He couldn't have that. Ichigo gave the older man a look, speaking with his eyes when his lips refused to work.

Uncertain, Shunsui's gaze shifted to the side, and the jug returned to the table. “It was a gift,” he explained with a nervous laugh. “A gift I brought just for you.”

Inclining his head in acceptance, he ignored Jyuushiro's stilling hand on his arm and completed the motion, downing the last of his bowl. It wasn't even burning anymore.

It took him a moment to filter the noise of more commotion outside his door from the uncomfortable silence stretching in the room. He turned towards the entrance, not even noticing when Jyuushiro and Shunsui made quick movements behind him.

In a rush of hurried motion and loud noises, Kenpachi and Ikkaku made their entrance, being trailed at a more sedate pace by Isane-san and Hanatarou. Was he doomed to be visited by countless numbers of Shinigami today?

Ichigo couldn't help but wonder.

His office felt too small as it was filled with Kenpachi and Ikkaku's voices and their very presence.

“Yo, Ichigo!” Kenpachi greeted in a noise that was more like an attempt at a happy grunt. Yachiru was noticeably absent from his shoulder.

The younger captain rolled his eyes. “I don't want to spar today, Kenpachi,” came Ichigo's automatic response as he shoved himself to his feet. His eyes cast towards the table, but the sake bottle had mysteriously disappeared, along with his former visitors.

Those sneaky bastards. Some gift.

Sniffing in disappointment, Ichigo picked his way across the floor to his desk as Kenpachi snorted behind him.

“That's not what I came here for,” he countered, plopping down on the floor in front of the desk in a sprawled, crossed leg position.

“Good afternoon, Ichigo-kun,” Isane greeted much more pleasantly and far politer than her loud husband. She lowered herself gracefully to the floor, her vice-captain taking a seat beside her.

Hanatarou dipped his head towards Ichigo. “Good afternoon, Ichigo-san.”

Even after thirty years and marrying his sister, Ichigo still couldn't convince him to drop the honorific. It was a habit the healer would probably never break.

Awkward couldn't even begin to describe the emotion coursing through Ichigo as he sat down behind his desk, feeling marginally safer. “Can I help you with something?” he asked of his unwanted visitors.

“Nah,” Ikkaku responded as he plopped down on the floor, sprawling over the polished wood and propping his head on his hand. “We just dropped by for a visit.”

They were making themselves pretty comfortable, Ichigo noticed. “I see.”

From the corner of his eyes, he caught Isane and Hanatarou having some sort of mental conversation as they exchanged multiple glances.

“Hadn't seen ya in awhile,” Kenpachi grunted as he moved around to get comfortable, propping his chin on his palm. “I thought somethin' happened to ya.”

Why was everyone saying that? Was it like the national conversation starter in an Awkward Situation?

Ichigo shrugged, repeating the same thing he had told Shunsui. “You saw me at the meeting. I was across from Byakuya and right between Renji and Izuru.”

The other captain gave him a strange look with his one eye gleaming. “I didn't miss ya. I meant outside of meetings.” He grinned ferally. “The brat's been wanting to play with your brats again.”

Ichigo snorted.

Yachiru couldn't find their house on her own, thank goodness. She had to be taken there.

“I don't think Kaien's recovered from her last visit.” He paused, reconsidering the children's Yachiru-nee-san. “Though Syaoran'll be interested.”

Kenpachi rolled the one eye, making him appear slightly less fearsome. “She filled Yachiru's head of worse ideas of pretty princesses and other crap than Yumichika ever did.”

“I heard that, Ken-kun,” Yumichika chimed from the next room over.

The eleventh-division captain shifted his gaze towards the door, shuddering briefly. “Damn prissy bastard,” he muttered under his breath, obviously trying not to be heard. “Still knows whenever we do stuff.”

Ichigo was vaguely amused by this exchange. There was another, more hidden reason he had chosen Yumichika to be his vice-captain. The fluttery man had an amazing ability to scare Kenpachi away on occasion.

Sensing that his other two visitors weren't going to speak on their own, Ichigo chose to address them. “When is Yuzu going to visit Soul Society?”

Hanatarou beamed, brightening instantly at the mention of his wife. “She's planning on coming for Orihime's baby shower.”

“Is Karin-san coming?” Isane chimed in thoughtfully. “Or your other friends from the living world?”

Ichigo rubbed the back of his head. “I honestly don't know,” he responded, wincing as he admitted he was a little out of the loop. “I'd have to ask Byakuya. Or better yet, Renji.”

“Like that moron knows what's going on,” Ikkaku commented with a chuckle. “He only knows he's supposed ta show up at a certain time. That's enough for him.”

Isane shot her husband an exasperated glance. “Ikkaku,” she put in reprovingly.

He returned with an innocent look. “What?”

The female captain shook her head and returned to the conversation. “I've been organizing it with my sister,” she casually explained. “And we had asked Rukia to... help... us...” she trailed off, inadvertently stumbling upon the menos grande in the room, which everyone had been trying to talk about but didn't know how to bring up.

An uncomfortable silence fell.

“Well, that's it then,” Kenpachi interjected. “Might as well talk about it.”

Ichigo clenched his jaw. “Let's not.”

“Ano…” Hanatarou began uneasily, big blue eyes lifting apologetically to Ichigo. “We didn't want to believe just rumors, Ichigo-san. We thought we should ask you.”

Kenpachi snorted at Hanatarou's attempts for steering around the issue. “The kid's trying ta ask if it's true.”

Ichigo immediately attempted to deflect, not particularly wanting to discuss it. “You should know better than to listen to rumors,” he stated, fixing them all with a pointed stare.

As always, it didn't work on Zaraki. “Dammit, Ichigo, just tell us yes or no,” he shot back.

“Yeah,” Ikkaku added, shooting to an upright position and curling his sockless feet towards him, Houzukimaru perched at his side. “You can tell Kuchiki, but you can't tell us.”

Immediately, Ichigo felt himself bristling, now sick of the entire thing. “I haven't told Byakuya anything. Or anyone else. There's nothing to talk about!”

“If there ain't anything, then why're you so defensive?” Kenpachi countered.

In the background, Isane and Hanatarou quietly watched, their eyes ping-ponging between the three men.

Ichigo pursed his lips, clamping down on a furious retort. “It's no one's business,” he bit out, fingers curling around in his knees in an attempt to hold back.

“Come on, Ichigo. Why'd you put up with it?” Ikkaku posed, ever tactless.

Hanatarou inserted meekly but with courage, jumping to his brother-in-law's defense. “He loves her, Ikkaku-san.”

The only voice of reason in an otherwise insane world. Ichigo's affection for the fourth-division vice-captain nearly tripled in that second.

The moment was broken as Kenpachi scoffed. “Love? Makes people fuckin' weak.”

“He's right,” Ikkaku confirmed. “Ya took down Aizen, but ya let your eighty pound wife whale on you? Makes no fuckin' sense.”

Ichigo felt his entire body stiffen.

Isane gasped, her hand pausing mid-air as if planning to strike. But then, she very carefully lowered it behind her back. In any other situation, it would have been comical. Considering the circumstances, it was the worst thing to do. She had wisely caught herself in time, however.

Nostrils flaring and jaw clenching so tightly his mouth ached, Ichigo glared. His eyes flashed with a hint of gold as a trickle of reiatsu escaped. It was tinted with Shirosaki, his desk rattling ominously in response.

“Get out,” he demanded, hands curling into fists. But he hesitated, realizing how harshly that had come out. Ichigo forced himself to suck in a breath through the haze of anger filming his vision.

“Please leave,” he repeated, faintly more calm.

He wasn't surprised when they made their hasty goodbyes, rising and hurrying from his office. Hanatarou bowed apologetically as Kenpachi shoved Ikkaku out ahead of him.

“Dumbass,” Ichigo heard the man say. “I know I taught ya better manners 'n that.”

Furiously rubbing his aching forehead, Ichigo rose with the intention of closing his office door. Possibly even bolting it shut. Sealing it with a kidoh spell. Escaping out the back and flashing as far away as possible.

Before he could manage to follow through with his plan, he was thwarted.

“Kurosaki-kun!” echoed throughout the walls of his division.

He was suddenly glomped, given an armful of pregnant Orihime. He would have been shocked if he weren't already used to her random acts of affection, not unusual for anyone, including Kenpachi.

The anger instantly bled out, leaving him incredibly tired. Just over her shoulder, he caught sight of an uncomfortable looking Toushirou and a waving Matsumoto. And glaring at the busty vice-captain was Yumichika, the frosty set to his shoulders nearly cold enough to rival Hitsugaya.

And Ichigo couldn't help but wonder why the person he most wanted to see had yet to make a visit.

“I came as soon as I heard,” Orihime wibbled once she pulled her face from the folds of his shihakushou. Her eyes had the distinct sheen of yet to be shed tears.

Damn hormones.

In the background, Toushirou face-palmed, clearly wishing he were somewhere else.

Ichigo really just wanted to curl up and die, right then and there. Bury himself beneath a rock eighty feet down and hide from everyone.

“Everything's fine, Orihime.”

She was unconvinced, stolidly embracing him as if he desperately needed her comfort to survive. “You don't look fine,” Orihime argued, face pinched with concern.

“She has a point, Kurosaki-taichou,” Matsumoto chimed in, only to grow silent when the daggers glared at her from Yumichika lengthened into sharp blades.

Ichigo sighed, wiping a hand down his face. Yes, he was seriously considering that whole “curl up and die” option.

“Oh, no! Do you have a headache?” Orihime questioned, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. “Yumichika-san! He needs some ice!”

“I'll get it!” Matsumoto hurriedly volunteered, scurrying away before Ichigo could protest and leaving her captain behind.

Orihime shook her head. “I'd never have thought Rukia would do such a thing,” she murmured, turning that liquidy gaze on him.

Toushirou rolled his eyes, folding his arms as Orihime continued.

“I just don't understand. Maybe she's been abducted by aliens, and they replaced her body with a zombie pod-person. Have you noticed any weird marks?”

“Orihime,” Ichigo began with all the patience he had stored in his body, specifically labeled for encounters with the orange-haired woman. “As much as I wish that-- no. No, she has not been abducted by aliens.”

As with all things concerning Orihime, it was all beginning to resemble some bizarre sort of play. Only someone had thrown away the script and everyone was left to improvise their lines in a desperate attempt to keep the show going for the crowd.

The woman breathed a sigh of relief, finally feeling safe enough to withdraw from the embrace, one hand raised to her lips. “That's good to hear. But oh! It's still so sad. Maybe you should have another baby. That should make Rukia happy.”

He doubted it. In fact, he knew that to be an impossibility. The last time he had touched Rukia like that, they had ended up with twins. All attempts since then had been brushed off with her either too tired or too busy. And then… well, this.

“We have four,” Ichigo reminded her. “Any more at the moment would be a bit much.”

She pursed her lips as she considered this, eyes suddenly brightening with an idea. “If it would help, you could borrow mine! Renji and I can always make more!”

There was a stifled sound coming from both Yumichika and Toushirou, which might have been laughter.

Of course, Orihime completely misinterpreted. “See? Even Toushirou-kun is offering to help!”

The laughter turned to an odd choking sound. But before it could degenerate any further and completely destroy Ichigo's sanity, he felt a rather familiar reiatsu just seconds away. He lifted his gaze to the door of his office, finding Byakuya standing there, surprise barely registering on his face.

“You have visitors?” the older man questioned rhetorically.

“I brought the-- oh! Kuchiki-taichou!” Matsumoto reappeared, only adding to the confusing mÃ©lange of events peppering Ichigo's office.

The look Byakuya gave the gossiping woman put Yumichika's icy glare to shame, making it seem hotter than flowing lava. It was all too quickly replaced by confusion as he noticed the ice in her hand.

“Byakuya-san! Did you come to see Ichigo-kun, too? Were you worried?” Orihime asked, her innocent inquiry piercing the air.

Blinking, the sixth-division captain looked past her, locking eyes with Ichigo. “I believe we were going to have lunch, were we not, Ichigo?”

Ichigo immediately jumped on the lie; anything to escape the madness.

“Ah, I had nearly forgotten. I'm sorry, Orihime. I have to be going now.”

“You don't need the ice?” Matsumoto asked mischievously.

Orihime sagely nodded. “You should at least take it with you.”

“I think I'll be fine,” he assured her, already backing towards the door and trying not to look like he was running away.

“We'll talk when you get back then,” she put in.

Toushirou coughed.

Yumichika knew that his captain wasn't coming back, at least not today, but he still offered, “I'll keep the office together while you're gone, taichou.”

It was said to an empty doorway, Ichigo and Byakuya having already disappeared. Only the faint scent of cherry blossoms now remained.

Huffing, Matsumoto tossed her hair over her shoulder and moved to set the no longer needed ice down on Yumichika's desk.

He glared.

She thought better of it. “Oh. Well, one can never have enough ice. Isn't that right, taichou?” Matsumoto chirped.

Hitsugaya shook his head. “Let's go, Matsumoto.”

“Hai,” both Orihime and Matsumoto chimed.

*****