Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Of Violence ❯ Chapter 10: Of Reunions ( Chapter 11 )

Of Violence

Chapter Ten: Of Reunions

 

Orihime's baby shower was the day after Ichigo's return to Soul Society, held after most of the captains would be off duty. Taking place in the seventh division, Ichigo had been surprised by the cheery décor within. It had to have taken someone several hours to turn the plain room into a startling display of happiness, Orihime-style.

 

Streamers, balloons, and glitter sparkled in every corner. There were tables piled high with food, some of them an interesting concoction of flavors that Ichigo didn't dare try. Another table was collecting an impressive stack of presents, growing higher as more guests trickled in. The main hall was literally packed with regular citizens and Shinigami, some that Ichigo knew, some that he didn't. The latter were probably those hoping to get in good graces with the captains, desiring a high position.

 

Not that Orihime really cared. She was always willing to have more friends.

 

Ichigo had been one of the first to arrive, luckily with Byakuya at his side. He had four kids, after all; he really needed four hands and eight eyes to keep them all under control. He had debated at first on actually bringing them. He didn't know if Rukia would be there, blowing the cover she had given.

 

In the end, he decided to risk it. He didn't want to leave them behind with Tohru because many people were looking forward to seeing them. If push came to shove, he could always find some way to distract them or leave early. Or something. If necessary, he would complete the difficult task of telling them the truth.

 

In any case, after his arrival, he was promptly swamped by Jyuushiro and Shunsui, the two of them taking a twin and escaping before he could even make a protest. Kaien slipped out from under his grasp like some sort of sneaky ninja and went running for his supposedly favorite uncle. Seconds later, a cry of surprise rose up as Kaien nearly attacked Renji's leg. No worries there.

 

Syaoran was the only one who hovered close, clinging to Byakuya's side. Ichigo noticed she had been doing that a lot lately. Either staying near to him or wanting to spend time with her uncle. She had always been more intuitive than her older brother.

 

Ichigo swept his gaze over the rapidly growing crowd, all dressed in their casual clothing. He idly wondered why Orihime hadn't come to greet him yet. Admittedly, she had been busy making sure things were set up properly and flitting around like a butterfly. He half-contemplated finding her and letting her know--

 

“Ichigo-kun!”

 

There was a flash of reddish-orange hair, his only warning before he was tackled around the mid-section by Orihime. Only his great reflexes kept the both of them from falling to the floor as she wrapped her arms around him in greeting, a first-class attack of affection if he ever saw one. He would have been annoyed if he weren't already used to it.

 

“You came!” she announced, tears shimmering in her eyes as she gave him a quick squeeze.

 

He gingerly returned the hug, patting her gently on the back. “You didn't think I would?”

 

She looked up at him, face pinched with a mixture of worry and relief. “I thought you would still be on vacation.”

 

“Didn't Renji tell you I was at the captain's meeting?”

 

Her arms briefly tightened around his waist as she chewed on her lip, obviously trying to recall something to that effect. There was a muffled noise just behind him, coming from Byakuya. It had better not have been laughter, or he was siccing Orihime on him next. The look on Byakuya's face when he was hugged was absolutely priceless, though Orihime attacked him far less than she did Ichigo.

 

“He might have mentioned something,” the woman finally conceded before releasing her lip and looking up at him with a stern expression. “But that doesn't mean I wasn't worried. You didn't tell anyone you were leaving.”

 

He had the feeling of being scolded when she took that tone with him. And honestly, Renji would attempt to rip him a new one if he upset the man's pregnant wife.

 

Ichigo sought to quickly diffuse her worry. “I'm sorry, but it was doctor's orders. I didn't really plan for it.” He rubbed the back of his head, carefully extricating himself from her arms.

 

Instantly, the worry was wiped away, and she nodded in understanding, tucking her arms over a barely noticeable bump. “That's okay. You still made it for my party.” Orihime tilted her head to the side, grey eyes searching. “You look better.”

 

He wasn't sure if he should take that as a compliment or a slight to his appearance earlier. But it was Orihime, so he let it slide. She was always uniquely honest, and no matter what, he could count on her. She meant well, despite being half off her rocker most of the time.

 

“Thanks, Orihime. That means a lot.”

 

She looked on the verge of something else, until her wandering gaze caught sight of his daughter. “You're welc-- Syaoran-chan!” she squealed in excitement, gushing happily. “Wow. You look so pretty.”

 

His daughter ever-so-gracefully and demurely looked at the floor. “Thank you, Hime-oba-san.” Trim fingers patted down her brand new kimono, elegantly stitched sakura tree branches and pink blossoms curling up the sides. She was ridiculously spoiled, much like all his children. “Byakuya-oji-san picked it out for me.”

 

Orihime wasted no time in hugging Syaoran, nearly smothering his daughter in her enthusiastic embrace. “Awww. I hope my daughter is just like you.”

 

“Don't pick her up, Hime.” Renji's voice cut their conversation as he wandered over, hand tucked into a plain black yukata. “You know what Isane said.”

 

She pouted but drew back, straightening until she stood. Orihime's eyes flickered back to Ichigo.

 

“I forgot to ask. How was your vacation?” she queried as her husband moved to stand beside her, towering over her shorter frame.

 

A hand settled gently on her shoulder, and she habitually stepped back into the affectionate touch. A pang of longing stabbed through Ichigo at the sight. He and Rukia used to be like that, unconsciously exchanging endearments, giving into any excuse to touch each other, even if it was purely innocent.

 

He could clearly remember cornering her in places, surprising her with a brief kiss to the sensitive spot on her neck, just below her ears. She would always playfully yell at him to stop, but her eyes would sparkle. It was almost like a game.

 

Those days seemed like so long ago, sending a painful stab of reminiscence through his heart. He ferociously fought down the echoes of yearning, forcing himself to appear as if nothing was wrong. He didn't want either Renji or Orihime to become uncomfortable or think they needed to hold back in his presence. His life turning to shit around him had nothing to do with them.

 

He executed a nonchalant shrug. “Goat-Face is still alive and kicking. Tatsuki wants you to call her or something.”

 

Even as he spoke however, his eyes had flickered over Renji. The other captain was looking a bit embarrassed, as if remembering their last conversation. Good. The bastard. He should have known better than the things he had said. Ichigo was all for letting the man stew in his humiliation.

 

Orihime shook her head, looking a tad ashamed of herself. “I've just been so busy that I nearly forgot to tell her I'm pregnant.”

 

“Hime,” Renji inserted patiently, squeezing his hand briefly on her shoulder, and Ichigo tried not to give them an envious look. “Kiyone's been looking for you. She mumbled something about pickles and strawberry frosting.”

 

A look of complete hunger stole over Orihime's expression. “Thank, kami,” she breathed, rubbing her stomach in appreciation. “I just had this craving.” She turned and swept her gaze over the gathered crowd, spying Kiyone and immediately hurrying up without so much as a by-your-leave.

 

Renji shook his head, watching his wife's departure with a fond expression on his face. “I can't keep up with her strange cravings.”

 

“You've still got a long way to go,” Ichigo responded curtly, all politeness gone now that Orihime had left. He wasn't going to upset her.

 

Nearby, Byakuya stirred, perhaps sensing the strange tension filling the air. Ichigo heard him murmur something to Syaoran, which sounded like a suggestion for cookies before deftly steering her away from the other two men. His daughter was quick to comply, the prospect of one of her favorite sweets too intriguing to ignore.

 

Once they left, Renji sighed and visibly fidgeted. “Dammit, Ichigo,” he cursed. “Don't be like that.”

 

“And how do you want me to be,” Ichigo put in shortly, still annoyed over what had happened a week ago. “She's my wife.”

 

Renji shifted position, sandals tapping against the tile. “I know.” His fingers raked through his hair, an action Ichigo recognized as a nervous twitch. “And I was just a bit shocked. I wasn't thinkin' straight.”

 

“Obviously,” Ichigo snorted. “You're supposed to be her friend, Renji. Not like all these other bastards around here that are judging her.”

 

“And I'm your friend, too,” Renji insisted a bit forcefully. “I don't know who I'm supposed ta side with.”

 

Ichigo rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest defensively. “Try no one,” he bit back. “It's none of your business. There aren't any fucking sides.”

 

Silence pulsed between them, awkward and heavy. Ichigo sucked in a deep breath, trying to force himself into something similar to calm. His reiatsu was attempting to swirl wildly around him and a nearby table of drinks rattled. Before anyone grew concerned, he abruptly reined it in.

 

Renji watched him for a moment, face unreadable. “Aren't ya angry at all?” he questioned, as if clearly confused as to why Ichigo was the only one who wasn't pissed off at the situation.

 

“Right now, I'm pretty pissed at you,” Ichigo muttered, turning on his heels and focusing his stare at the refreshments though he didn't actually see any of them.

 

He was doing his utmost best to pretend he wasn't having an argument with Orihime's husband at her baby shower. People were already glancing their way, a few moving aside as if expecting a zanpakutou battle to suddenly occur. He didn't want to see them, didn't want to hear them. Everything. The voices and the stares. He was only back for a couple days, and he was already sick of them.

 

“Well, forgive me for fuckin' caring,” Renji snapped back, losing his own patience. A thread of hurt wormed its way into his words, however, and Ichigo did not fail to notice it. “Next time, I ought not ta bother.”

 

Sighing, Ichigo scrubbed a hand down his face. He knew that Renji was probably just as confused as most of his and Rukia's friends. No one could seem to figure out just where to stand, regardless of the fact that there was not a side to choose. They were going to draw their own lines, forgoing anything Ichigo might have to say. He didn't want anyone to turn on Rukia, but they were doing it anyway. The whispers weren't only about himself, after all, but her as well. And what they said about Rukia was far more vicious and painful than the humiliating rumors about himself.

 

Dammit. This was the reason why he never wanted anyone to know. Outside of the fact he could solve his own fucking problems, he hadn't wanted this to happen. It was something they could solve themselves. Her pain was just as much his pain. In more ways than one.

 

Ichigo sucked in a deep breath, forcing out the irritation and anger, leaving him feeling strangely wrung out and fatigued. It was no use taking out his feelings on Renji.

 

“It's no one's business but our own,” he finally said, mindlessly scooping something up from the delicately baked goodies on the table. Frosted sugar crunched beneath his fingers.

 

“Yer right,” Renji rumbled. “And I know that yer right.” He hesitated, struggling to find the proper words for something he probably should have said from the beginning. “I... uh… I didn't mean what I said `bout her. I know that she wouldn't ever hurt the kids.”

 

Ichigo sniffed. “Don't apologize to me.”

 

The emotion was rapidly bleeding out of him, leaving him with nothing else. He couldn't be angry at Renji anymore, the man more of a convenient target. And he knew that Renji did care for Rukia and had likely been speaking out of concern. He supposed that he couldn't blame his friend for that much.

 

Nor could he blame Renji for the question. He had to admit, although very grudgingly, that it was a logical progression of thought.

 

“Right.” Crimson eyes looked around them as the crackling tension slowly dissipated, though their friendship hadn't been entirely soothed. He rubbed the back of his neck. “So... we cool?”

 

Ichigo rolled his eyes. Renji was such an idiot sometimes.

 

“Whatever. Go help your wife.”

 

The awkward tension gone, Renji grinned. It didn't come as easily as it might have before, but it was there. That was good enough for Ichigo. He jerked his head into a nod and waded into the crowd.

 

A surge of relief washed through Ichigo, glad to find that particular confrontation over. He only hoped Renji's visit was not indicative of the path the rest of his afternoon would take. Glancing only briefly at the dessert he had picked up, Ichigo tossed it into his mouth and gravitated towards the drinks.

 

Selecting one of the strange fruit mixes, he washed down the overly sweet cookie. He wished that the liquid had contained alcohol. He had a feeling he would need to be a bit numb to properly survive this. Looking around, Ichigo realized that he might as well find Byakuya or one of his children. There was no use in standing by and being stared at.

 

Ichigo merged into the crowd, greeting what few people saw fit to recognize him. His eyes passed over Hanatarou, the healer giving him a smile from where he was deep in conversation with his captain. More people began to pour in the room, surprising Ichigo by the sheer numbers. He didn't even know that many people knew Orihime.

 

Then again, it was a political event. Another captain having a child. That was something to be celebrated in Seireitei. The baby shower was almost as important as a captain's meeting in terms of politics. Rukia's had been much the same, now that he thought about it.

 

In the background, soft music started playing, but Ichigo barely noticed. As he pretended to mingle, a few people stopped to talk to him like Jyuushiro, Izuru, and Yumichika. But otherwise, he was cleverly avoided. Eyes falling to the floor as if they hadn't seen him or joining other conversations quickly.

 

Everyone was avoiding discussing the gigantic Espada cackling over Ichigo's head like a certain blue-haired bastard. No one knew what to say, how to act, so they would rather not attempt conversation. It was easier to look away hurriedly, whisper rumors, mutter under their breaths than actually learn the truth.

 

Ichigo didn't know which he preferred.

 

He eventually found Byakuya, one hand clasped firmly on Syaoran, who was munching on a plain cookie, and in the midst of a discussion with his new vice-captain. Rikichi, who had never truly gotten over his hero worship of Renji, had been appointed to the second-seat a few years after the war. Not long after Renji had been given the seventh division. He had shown remarkable courage during the war. If only he hadn't adopted Renji's propensity for tattoos. Dark black lines were already starting to make their way down the boy's face.

 

As Ichigo approached, Rikichi executed a hasty bow towards his captain and hurried away, passing directly by Ichigo. He tipped his head at the Vizard and continued on.

 

Ichigo raised a brow, drawing up to his brother-in-law. “What was that about?” he asked, bending to pick up his daughter and hitch her on his hip. “What are you eating?”

 

“Cookie,” she answered, holding it out to him. “Want some?”

 

He shook his head. “No thanks. I had one of my own.”

 

She shrugged and bit into the baked item with a crunch, dribbling some sprinkles on his clothes. He hardly noticed. Ichigo turned his attention towards Byakuya, who was brushing crumbs from his sleeve.

 

“One of my lower seats was involved with an altercation after I had left for the day,” Byakuya answered absentmindedly before deciding that he was satisfied with the state of his attire and looked up. “It involved someone from another division.”

 

Ichigo furrowed his brow, idly fixing one of the barrettes in his daughter's hair. “And he needs your approval to handle it?”

 

A slight sigh escaped from the Kuchiki heir. “I believe this particular Shinigami may have been assigned to the wrong division. He is more suited to Zaraki's ruffians. Rikichi wanted permission to request a transfer.”

 

Ichigo's lips twitched into a grin. “My vice-captain was one of those `ruffians,'” he countered. “And so was Renji.”

 

“Exactly,” Byakuya responded with a hint of that humor that was oh-so-carefully hidden from the others.

 

“Kurosaki.”

 

Ichigo and Byakuya turned in tandem to see Toushirou approaching, the crowd parting for him as he made his way towards them. Suspended in the air by the harsh grip on the back of his kimono, Kaien shot his father an almost sheepish look. Toushirou did not appear the least bit amused.

 

“I believe this belongs to you,” Toushirou stated blandly, one eyebrow twitching in faint annoyance.

 

He deposited Kaien on his feet in front of his father, one hand lightly patting the unruly black strands. Toushirou gave no explanation as he turned on his heels and strode away, an annoyed clip to his step. Yet, the pat had been affectionate.

 

“Bye, Shirou-oji-san!” Kaien called out gamely, waving at his departing uncle.

 

Ichigo cleared his throat. His son started, glancing at him with an almost shame-faced expression. Amusement and mischief altered the look, however, making him appear not the least bit sorry.

 

Brown eyes pinned down his errant child. “What did you do?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

The answer was far too quick to be believed.

 

Ichigo took another look. What appeared to be powdered sugar dusted his son's nose, and he had acquired as streak of dirt on his hakama somehow. One cheek looked reddened, likely a result from continued pinching. He stood with his hands behind his back, unrepentant in the slightest.

 

His father sighed, resisting the urge to pinch his nose. “Did you break anything?”

 

The stifled sound just behind him better not have been muffled laughter. He was going to catch Byakuya for that later. Including what might have been a chuckle during his conversation with Orihime.

 

Kaien lowered his eyes, toeing the ground. “No one liked that vase anyway,” he mumbled barely loud enough for his father to hear. “And Renji-oji-san thanked me.”

 

Syaoran sniffed elegantly as she looked at her brother. “Otou-chan? Is Kaien-nii-chan in trouble?” she asked in a tone of voice that clearly stated she knew for a fact he was and would delight in whatever punishment he was given.

 

Such rivalry between his children. He didn't quite understand it.

 

Ichigo exchanged a look with Byakuya, though he wasn't quite certain why. He knew a certain amount of punishment was in order and wondered just what he could inflict on his son. The boy never responded to verbal chastisement.

 

He never really got the chance.

 

Ikkaku appeared out of the crowd, Yumichika sparkling at his side. He had two bokken with him, both propped up over his shoulder. He sauntered towards Ichigo and Byakuya with a swagger, having obviously dismissed the last conversation he had with the former. It was a perfect Ikkaku response to tension; forget it had ever happened.

 

“Yo, squirt!” the perpetual third-seat greeted with a faint salute. “I thought we were going to work on some moves.”

 

Kaien started as if remembering this and immediately turned sparkling, hopeful eyes onto his father. “Can I? Please?” He looked on the verge of groveling if necessary.

 

As much as Ichigo wanted to tell him no as punishment, he also didn't want to deal with Kaien's sulking for the rest of the afternoon. And Kaien would definitely pout. He wouldn't speak but would stand around, hands folded over his chest and bottom lip poked out. Everyone would know that he was very displeased. Ichigo couldn't figure out where the hell he had gotten that damn behavior from.

 

Sighing, Ichigo inclined his head. “Just be careful.” It should alarm him that he felt safe sending his child with Ikkaku and two swords, but it didn't.

 

His son completely missed the warning. He was already scampering away, excitement adding an extra bounce to his steps. One hand was reaching for one of Ikkaku's bokken, grinning gleefully. Ichigo realized that he should probably just give up and let his son be the Shinigami that he wanted to be.

 

“Don't worry, Ichigo-kun,” Yumichika consoled as he lingered a bit longer than his bald friend. Purple eyes were searching his captain's expression. “I'll keep an eye on them.”

 

“Thanks, Yumichika.”

 

The flirty vice-captain waved a hand of dismissal. “I've spent years looking after muscle-brained oafs. No need to stop now.”

 

He moved away and melded back into the crowd, a sway and a sparkle in his step designed to attract any admiring eye, male or female. Yumichika always liked to keep his options open.

 

Ichigo shook his head, looking at his daughter. “Please tell me you don't want to be a Shinigami.”

 

She smiled up at him sweetly, a few crumbs dotting her cheeks. “Of course not, tou-chan,” she responded, her childish voice almost chiding. “I'm going to be a princess. Yumi-oji-san said so.”

 

His friends were corrupting his kids. Every last one of them. Soon, Ryuu would be giving everyone frosty stares, and Mikan would be inventing strange things and building huge, rocky training areas.

 

“That could be arranged,” Byakuya inserted with a fond look, studying Syaoran's hair.

 

Ichigo could practically see him imagining the Kenseikan.

 

The younger man turned, teasingly blocking her from his direct sight. “Oy. No making an heir of my daughter. No Kuchiki bullsh-- junk for her.”

 

From the corner of his eye, he caught Byakuya folding his arms over his chest. “Someone has to be my heir,” he stated simply, as if implying that it was Ichigo's responsibility to produce one.

 

“Or,” Ichigo countered. “You could get married and have one of your own instead of trying to steal mine.”

 

Byakuya sniffed elegantly. “Why bother?” he asked with an arched brow, reaching forward and soothing down Syaoran's hair. “You'll be my heir, won't you?”

 

She nodded beneath his hand, smiling amiably. “Will I be a princess?”

 

Shooting her father a smug look, Byakuya responded, “Of course, hime-sama.”

 

Syaoran grinned and sat up in her father's arms, moving to look at him. “Can I be his heir, tou-chan?”

 

“Corrupting my children,” Ichigo grumbled under his breath, recognizing when he had been beaten. “Between you and Renji, it's a wonder they respect me at all.”

 

“I respect you tou-chan,” his daughter replied. “I love you, too.”

 

Despite himself, Ichigo warmed at the innocent statement. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he responded, kissing her on the cheek. “At least someone does.”

 

Syaoran giggled and squirmed in his hold. “Then, can I have some cake?

 

He should have known better, and Ichigo rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Yes. Let's go get some.” He started towards the table, then paused and glanced over his shoulder at Byakuya. “Cake?”

 

“Come on, Byakushi-oji-san. We're getting cake.”

 

Byakuya sighed as though it were a great concession and moved to join them, glanced around the crowd pointedly. “I might as well. If I do not, these strangers will consume it all.”

 

They slipped into the gathered mass of Shinigami, officials, and general residents of Seireitei.

 

“I don't know half these people.” Ichigo shook his head. “And I'm pretty sure Orihime doesn't either.”

 

“It is the way of these things. I am sure Hitsugaya knows as well.”

 

“I'm just waiting to hear that he and Karin have eloped,” Ichigo countered, knowing full well that neither his sister nor the surly captain were that amenable to crowds or social events.

 

They particularly didn't like playing the political game, not that he did either. But when he had married Rukia, he couldn't just elope. She was a Kuchiki, after all. And Byakuya wouldn't have allowed it.

 

As they approached the long line of tables piled with refreshments and surrounded by smaller clusters of tables and chairs, Ichigo handed his daughter over to Byakuya. “I'll get the cake,” he explained as his brother-in-law easily took her in hand. “Will you grab a table?”

 

Byakuya nodded.

 

Several minutes later, Ichigo found the two of them tucked away from the main crowd. He was carefully balancing three plates and two cups, finding it a miracle that he had managed not to drop or spill anything.

 

Syaoran was sitting at the table, kicking her feet beneath the elegant, white tablecloth. “It's so pretty,” she admired as he set the dainty plate in front of her, a small piece of lacy and delicate cake upon it.

 

Ichigo set the small cup of juice he had brought for her off to the side. Brown eyes tracked his movement, and almost immediately, she wrinkled her nose. He was already expecting it.

 

“Does it have cherry in it?” his daughter asked with evident distaste.

 

Ichigo shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe.”

 

Looking up at him as though demanding that he magically alter the juice to something more suitable to her tastes, Syaoran whined, “Tou-chan, I don't like cherry.”

 

“You can hardly taste it,” Byakuya inserted, taking a faint sip of his own. “It's fruit punch, Syaoran. It is a mixture of everything.”

 

She remained skeptical, sniffing delicately at the drink before setting it aside. She pushed it away with her finger and picked up her fork, starting in on the cake.

 

Ichigo rolled his eyes at his daughter's behavior. Picking up his own plate, he took a small bite. He chewed thoughtfully, watching as Byakuya and Syaoran ate in the same demure and careful manner. Was she emulating him in everything?

 

Something twinged at his memory, reminding him that he hadn't had a chance to corner Byakuya about the incident at the captain's meeting. He hastily swallowed.

 

“So what was that about?”

 

Grey eyes flickered to him in surprise and confusion.

 

Ichigo gestured with a fist, miming the attack. “You know. Kenpachi?”

 

For the first time in quite a while, he caught a hint of embarrassment staining Byakuya's cheeks. The Kuchiki heir lowered his eyes to the table, obviously searching for the right words.

 

“A simple disagreement. Nothing more.”

 

Ichigo didn't believe that for a second. “I've never seen you physically hit anyone.”

 

“Perhaps Zaraki inspires that in me,” Byakuya replied, cutting into his cake with an air of finality.

 

'Or you just don't want to tell me,' Ichigo amended in his mind, ignoring the stab of hurt that sliced through him. He pushed the event away along with any further questions. Byakuya obviously didn't want to talk about it.

 

They fell into a complacent silence, eating and watching the people around them. Ichigo was glad for the last few inches he put on all those years ago as he was able to see over a good bit of the crowd. He caught sight of Orihime flitting among her visitors, Renji trailing along after her. He had a pained expression on his face.

 

Che. Served him right for making fun of Ichigo all those years.

 

Then, from the corner of his vision, Ichigo noticed Kenpachi walk by. He trailed the man's motion until he took seat at one of the frilly tables nearby, practically throwing himself into the chair.

 

Ichigo's fork missed his mouth. “Byakuya?”

 

“Hmm?” In the midst of wiping at the frosting on Syaoran's face, some pink streaks having made it onto her cheek, Byakuya was hardly paying attention.

 

“Is that Kenpachi holding my child?”

 

The Kuchiki heir paused and peered over. “It would appear so.” One brow rose in surprise.

 

Ichigo looked again, just to be certain. Ryuunosuke was fast asleep, snuggled firmly in the crook of Kenpachi's left arm. He didn't seem too disturbed by his proximity to the battle-hungry man. But wasn't his son last with Shunsui?

 

Confused, Ichigo searched the sea of faces. He found the elder captain with a sake bottle where there had once been a baby. Ah, that explained it. Ichigo should have known.

 

On instinct, he searched for Mikan as well. But she was safely being cooed over by Jyuushiro and Izuru. Nothing to worry about there.

 

“Well, it pains me to say this, but Kenpachi might be an improvement over Shunsui.” Ichigo exhaled slowly.

 

At least the eleventh-division captain had some baby experience. He watched as several women fluttered over to his side, as if he were somehow less fearsome and dangerous with an infant in his arms. The pained look on Kenpachi's face was well worth it. His eye darted about as if looking for an escape, trapped by the cooing around him.

 

Yachiru hovered over one shoulder, pink hair easily distinguishable from the rest of the crowd. Her face held something close to awe as she stared at Ryuu, remarkably making no attempts to play. It was the quietest Ichigo had ever seen her.

 

“Okay, everyone!”

 

Orihime's voice pierced through the music and the loud talking. She clapped her hands to further show she wanted attention, and a wave of quiet swept through the room. The entire crowd turned towards her expectantly.

 

She grinned with the happy glow of an expectant mother. “It's present time!”

 

Clearly excited by the prospect of opening the verifiable mountain of gifts, Orihime seated herself at the head of the table like a princess. Renji hovered just behind her, content to let his wife tear through the wrapping paper with child-like glee. Ichigo and Byakuya remained where they were, though others pressed to get closer, fine with keeping their seats. He was certain Orihime would show him all her favorites at a later time anyway.

 

It wasn't long before she was surrounded by wonderful presents. Baby clothes, another homemade crib from Ikkaku, various bathing supplies and perfumes, and any number of objects that a woman could use during her pregnancy. She even received several fine yukata and kimono, most fitted for the later months.

 

“Ooooh,” Orihime breathed, pulling out a beautifully knit blanket from one of the gift boxes. She was obviously impressed by the design.

 

Ichigo blanched at the sight. It was a swirl of random colors and symbols that made his eyes hurt, one even a bright red pineapple. Shuuhei's amused stab at Renji he supposed. He remembered getting one for each child at Rukia's baby shower from the tattooed man, a skill that Shuuhei did not advertise.

 

“Any plans for names?” a voice called out from the crowd.

 

Orihime grinned, looking the happiest Ichigo had ever seen her. “Not yet.” She turned her head, sharing a warm look with her husband. “We can't decide if we want to know if our baby's a boy or girl.”

 

“A boy,” Renji coughed into his hand without any subtlety.

 

Rolling her eyes, she dropped the subject. “Next present!”

 

And so it continued for a good hour. The sound of ripping paper and unfolding cloth filled the air until every last one of the stack had been opened, contents laid bare before everyone's eyes. Ichigo severely doubted there was any necessity the Abarai couple was missing.

 

“Thank you, everyone!” Orihime gushed, her eyes sparkling with appreciative happiness. “Enjoy my party!”

 

A short burst of applause rose up as her guests began to do just that, though some were leaving now that the main event was over. There was a slight but steady trickle out the door. Soon, no one but true family and friends would remain.

 

Ichigo was about to turn back to Byakuya, making some amusing comment about Renji. He stalled, however, when he caught sight of Rukia. She must have slipped in during the noise and bustle of present opening and now approached Orihime.

 

A measure of panic flashed through him, and he quickly scanned the room for Kaien. His son was nowhere in sight. He must still be outside with Ikkaku. Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief. Syaoran was suitably distracted by Byakuya. With any luck, he wouldn't have to worry about either of them catching sight of their mother.

 

Still, that didn't stop him from watching from afar. It had been more than a week since he had last seen Rukia, and to say that he was glad for the chance was an understatement. While they had been spending less and less time together thanks to her job before, her sudden and complete absence from his life was unsettling. He could honestly say that he missed her. More than he doubted anyone could understand.

 

*****

 

“Orihime?”

 

Turning at the familiar voice, the soon-to-be new mother was surprised to find Rukia behind her. An almost hesitant look was in those dark blue eyes as she glanced nervously around, a beautifully wrapped package clutched in delicate hands.

 

“Rukia!” Orihime exclaimed. “I didn't know if you were going to make it or not.”

 

“I apologize,” Rukia responded, handing over the wrapped gift. “I've been really busy. Congratulations.”

 

Beaming at the pretty wrapping, the younger woman nodded. “It's okay. I understand.” Fingers absentmindedly plucked at the ribbon wrapped around the box as she watched her friend from under a fall of auburn bangs.

 

Orihime wasn't entirely certain of the true situation behind everything. She wasn't certain she understood everything. But she could definitely see that Rukia was sad, her eyes constantly on the floor and her fingers fidgeting.

 

“I can't stay long,” Rukia added, moving her head slightly and scanning the crowd as if looking for someone, half-hoping and half-dreading. “But I couldn't miss your baby shower.”

 

A smile flitted onto the other woman's lips, and Orihime momentarily set the gift on the table behind her. To Rukia's astonishment, she took her hands and squeezed them warmly. Shock spread across Rukia's face as she jerked her eyes back towards her friend.

 

“I don't really know anything,” Orihime said in earnest. She hadn't been able to figure out what side she was supposed to take. She wasn't sure there was one. But she did know that she would be an awful friend if she abandoned either one of them.

 

“And I don't like you hurting Ichigo-kun.”

 

Rukia visibly flinched, trying to draw back. But Orihime's hold was firm and unrelenting. In lieu of physically escaping, the vice-captain shifted her gaze to the side, trying to avoid Orihime's eyes.

 

“Orihime, I--”

 

“But,” she inserted, neatly clipping Rukia's words off. “I do know that you're my friend. You went into Hueco Mundo with Ichigo-kun to rescue me, and you fought at my side during the war. Besides, Ichigo-kun still loves you, and… it's none of my business. If he's not mad, how can I be?”

 

Blinking, the former Kuchiki felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude, enough that her eyes shimmered. “I...” She blinked again and sucked in a deep breath. “You don't know how much that means to me.”

 

“Of course I do, silly,” Orihime responded, finally releasing her hands and reaching for the present once more with an excited grin. She paused, turning to shake a finger at Rukia. “But don't you ever hurt Ichigo-kun again, or I'll have to set Tsubaki on you.”

 

A very tight grin edged onto Rukia's lips, though it didn't reach her eyes. “Don't worry. I swear that I won't.”

 

“Good.” Orihime nodded sagely and started to unravel the ribbon, peeling back the wrapping. “It's so soft,” she murmured as she withdrew an elegant full-length kimono from the box, a soft blue with gold trim and design. “Ah, but it... won't fit.”

 

Rukia shook her head. “Of course not. This is for afterwards.”

 

The pregnant woman's lower lip wobbled in appreciation. “It's beautiful. Thank you.”

 

“You're welcome.” Rukia's eyes flicked around, registering the multitudes of people who were probably going to start staring soon. “I hate to be brief, but I have to go before--”

 

“I know,” Orihime interjected. She reached forward and pulled Rukia into a brief hug before releasing her. “Come and talk to me sometime, okay?”

 

Rukia nodded. “I will. And you can come to me if you need advice. I'll talk to you later, Orihime.”

 

The pregnant woman smiled and waved as Rukia turned to leave, slipping out the same way she had slipped in with the few the wiser to her presence. But when Orihime turned her attention to her guests, she caught a glimpse of Ichigo looking her way. She sighed inwardly. He looked so very hurt and lonely, despite the fact Byakuya was with him. It made her own heart ache for him.

 

This was one thing her Souten Kisshun could not fix.

 

*****

 

From his vantage point, Ichigo could watch them interact but not hear what they were saying. Whatever Orihime just said, however, made Rukia smile, and his heart ached at the sight. Recently, he had only seen her tired and worn, maybe even angry. She left not soon after arriving.

 

Something twisted in his gut as she slipped out of his sight, along with the urge to go after her. Talk to her even. Figure out what they were going to do, what he was supposed to do. She said they needed distance. Was he supposed to wait until she came to her senses? Or was that merely futile? Did she mean for them to be over? Was it that easy for her to walk away?

 

There were so many questions surging up in him. He needed to talk to her again.

 

He was tired of sleeping alone, even if he had to suffer it for only a week. His children missed their mother. And he wanted his wife back. He didn't care what anyone else thought. It was his damn life and his damn heart.

 

“Kurosaki.”

 

The rumbled voice startled him, and Ichigo nearly jumped at the sound of it, barely catching himself from dropping his half-finished cake. Forcing himself to tear his eyes away from where Rukia had last been, he turned and pretended to be concentrating on eating. He came face to face with his youngest son.

 

“It stinks,” the voice announced from just beyond.

 

Ichigo tipped his head to the side, catching sight of Zaraki. Yachiru had mysteriously disappeared from his shoulder, probably off to terrorize some innocent.

 

And then, his nose caught a whiff. Indeed, Ryuu was quite smelly. He needed to be changed.

 

“He's a baby. They smell,” Ichigo retorted, placing his plate to the table and reaching for his son.

 

Ryuu raised his arms to his father as Ichigo took him from Kenpachi, fingers grasping for Ichigo's hair. He seemed to delight in touching the orange strands.

 

Ichigo ignored his grasping, smirking at the other man. “Surely, you haven't forgotten how to change a diaper, have you?”

 

“I'm wipin' that from my memory. Never happened.” Kenpachi practically shuddered.

 

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo began the search for the bag he knew he had brought with him and stashed somewhere. Maybe Byakuya had it. Or Jyuushiro. It was somewhere; he just couldn't quite remember where. Ryuunosuke was rather foul, squirming in discomfort. He would have to find it soon.

 

“Where's the squirt?” Kenpachi asked after a second.

 

“With Ikkaku,” Ichigo answered absentmindedly, desperately trying to recall what he had done with the bag when he arrived. He had stashed it somewhere. At a table maybe? Or had he given it to someone?

 

The other captain shot him a skeptical, disbelieving look. “Ya left him with that idiot?”

 

“Yumichika's there,” Ichigo replied, slipping Ryuu into one hand as he poked around a few tables that had already been abandoned by guests. The room was slowly emptying.

 

“I'm sure Ayasegawa-fukutaichou is capable of reining in your third-seat,” Byakuya inserted as though offended by Kenpachi questioning Ichigo's parenting abilities.

 

Ichigo nodded. “Exactly.” He paused, frowning. “Oy, Byakuya. Where's that bag I brought? You know, the one with the baby stuff in it.”

 

“I put it under your chair.”

 

Kenpachi's eye flickered between them. He grinned knowingly, though Ichigo wasn't paying any attention to him, and gave Byakuya a look.

 

The Kuchiki heir stiffened, eyes widening marginally, and suddenly drew to his feet. “Shall we see if we can convince Hisagi-fukutaichou to knit you a scarf, Syaoran?” he asked, pretending as if he wasn't aware of Kenpachi's presence.

 

She beamed, looking longingly at her uncle's own very expensive scarf. “Really?”

 

Byakuya nodded, shoving his nose into the air and taking her hand. “Your birthday is soon. Perhaps you can convince him.”

 

He completely ignored Zaraki as he led his niece past the towering man. Until Kenpachi snickered.

“Denial,” he muttered under his breath before Byakuya could get out of hearing range.

 

The look the Kuchiki heir gave him could have frozen an entire lake and then promptly set it on fire, only for it to burn for days. Kenpachi was unbothered, merely grinning in victory as Byakuya continued on his way.

 

Bag in hand, Ichigo returned from his brief search, catching sight of their departure. “Where's Byakuya going?”

 

Kenpachi shrugged. “Somethin' about a scarf. Pansy shit. Hell if I know.” He turned and walked away but called back, “Spar with me sometime, Ichigo. I swear yer getting' soft.”

 

“What do you know?” Ichigo retorted with some irritation. “You only had one!”

 

A hand was flicked at him dismissively. It was the only response he received.

 

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo looked at Ryuunosuke, who returned his stare unblinking with a silent request for his father to change his uncomfortable diaper.

 

“I think that you're the only sane one,” he said and left to look for a good place to take his son out of the public eye.

 

*****