Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Of Violence ❯ Ch 15 Confrontations (Part One) ( Chapter 16 )

Of Violence

Chapter Fifteen: Confrontations (Part One)

 

Another month came and passed, moving with the same tedious pace as the one before it. Life continued as it had before, leaving Ichigo little room to breathe and even less room to think. Less time to adapt and change, to accept the decisions he had already made and confirmed. Papers, important documents, sat on his desk, gathering dust as they impatiently waited his signature.

 

He saw them every day. He held a brush in his hand and contemplated the number of strokes it would take to pen his name. He considered his reasons why. And then, he would get distracted. One of the twins would cry. Someone was hungry. There was an emergency at the division. He was late for a meeting.

 

In the end, they were merely excuses and even he knew it. But that didn't get the papers signed any faster. If it were any other situation, a battle or something similar, he could make a split-second choice and stick by it. He could jump in, swing his zanpakutou, and defeat his opponent by sheer will alone. He wouldn't regret the outcome. But this... this wasn't so simple, and Ichigo was fully aware of that point.

 

It was frustrating that he couldn't make this simple decision, even if he had in effect already made the choice. The papers were there in front of him, all he had to do was sign. And yet, he lingered. He ignored them. He found excuse after excuse.

 

Maybe it was a trace of bitterness. A part of him had hoped to the sorrowful end that Rukia would protest to the divorce in some small way. That she would fight for their marriage and for their love. And when she hadn't, it had hurt even more. As if she was saying that the years they spent together didn't matter. That had hurt far worse than any of the violence he had suffered at her hand. He just wanted to believe that she still loved him, that there was something to save.

 

That damn Kurosaki stubbornness. That defeat didn't exist and he could claim victory by sheer stubborn will.

 

It was that frustration with both himself and the rest of Seireitei that encouraged Ichigo to seek an outlet of some kind. Leaving Yumichika in control of the division, something he found himself doing more and more lately and subsequently feeling guilty for it, he fled the understanding gazes of his subordinates in search of a little aggression. There was plenty to be found in other Shinigami, but he wanted something of a challenge, and he didn't want to end up a bloodied, barely breathing mess. Which left out Kenpachi and by proxy anyone in the eleventh division that brought him anywhere close to the eyepatch-wearing psychopath.

 

Turning on his heel, Ichigo headed towards the seventh division. Renji was always up for a bit of sparring, especially now that he needed something to distract himself from his anxiety. Orihime was getting closer and closer to the end of her pregnancy, prompting a worry fest in her husband that put Hanatarou to shame. Not that Renji was normally composed and completely in control of himself. But still, Ichigo had the feeling that the sight of the tattooed man on the day of the birth was not going to be pretty. A vision of tranquilizers and hysterics danced on the back of his mind.

 

Therefore, Renji was the perfect choice. Besides, he also knew the location of Urahara's still somehow secret training grounds. This way, they wouldn't have any unwanted onlookers.

 

He opted not to shunpo, wanting to save his energy for the spar to come. He could already feel the anticipation trickling in his bones and sinew, Ossan and Shirosaki stirring in the back of his skull. It had been too long since he had done anything remotely battle-like, and it was beginning to show. Maybe Kenpachi was right; perhaps he was getting soft.

 

Ichigo snorted.

 

The day he actually listened to Zaraki Kenpachi was the day he turned in his haori and became crazy Kanonji's apprentice. And that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

 

He passed by the sixth division and thought briefly of stopping by to visit Byakuya. It was just as quickly dismissed when he remembered that they had maneuvers out on the practice field this afternoon. The Kuchiki heir wouldn't even be in the office. Not that it was a good idea to talk to Byakuya in his current state of agitation. He would just snap at the man again, and while Byakuya never appeared affronted, Ichigo would feel guilty anyway.

 

“And he's still married to her?”

 

The querying whisper, likely meant to be furtive but failing miserably, floated to Ichigo's conscious. His ears twitched, and he slowed his walk, a knot of something beginning to wind its way in his belly. Ahead of him, three Shinigami were speaking to each other in a side corridor, looking as if they had paused in the midst of their duties. One woman clutched paperwork to her chest, while the two men carried a stack of bokken. From the distance, Ichigo couldn't tell which division they belonged to.

 

One male, a brunet with a weird scar, cocked his head to the side. “That's what Yobun-kun told me. And he heard it from Ootori, who heard it from Yagami-chan's brother,” he answered in an equally not-stealthy manner. “Still married. And probably will stay that way.” He shook his head and made a dismissive sound.

 

They were in broad daylight in the middle of the road. If they expected no one to overhear them, then they were either stupid or didn't actually care. Eyes narrowing of their own accord, Ichigo drew his reiatsu tighter about himself, a sense of masochistic curiosity attacking him.

 

Ichigo knew without having to ask what they were discussing. He wasn't unaware of the rumors, but to their actual material, he had no interest. He hadn't tried to find out, knowing that it was all false anyway. And knowing that it would make him angry regardless. He didn't understand why he suddenly had the burning desire to learn.

 

The other man, looking just a bit younger with his wide green eyes, scoffed. “He needs to go on and dump that bitch. Kurosaki-taichou shouldn't have to put up with that.”

 

“Yeah.” The response was followed by an all too eager nod of agreement from the female and then disgust laced the loud whisper. “I heard that the twins aren't Kurosaki-taichou's. But that she was… you know… with someone else.” The woman made a vague motion with her hand.

 

The coiling in Ichigo's belly turned into a burn, a fire that made his hands clench at his sides. His reiatsu snapped at his restraint, fighting to be free, and he barely denied the request.

 

One pair of male eyes rounded, almost eagerly. “Oh, yeah? Who?” the younger of the two males asked as he shifted the bokken in his arms.

 

The brunet shrugged nonchalantly. “Not sure. And Yobun-kun didn't know either. Could be just about anyone knowing her.” His face pulled into a grimace.

 

His female companion added, “She's already whored herself out to the Kuchiki. Doesn't surprise me a bit.”

 

“True enough,” the older man replied, shifting his weight to his other foot. “Still, I think it was Seiran-fukutaichou. He's got those same eyes. And he was in the thirteenth during the war. Fifth-seat or something.”

 

Steadily burning, the anger grew into full force, and Ichigo found himself moving before he entirely realized what he was doing. It was more than Ichigo was willing to hear. Superficial resemblance or not, Seiran was dark-haired and teal-eyed, Ichigo knew that Rukia hadn't been seeing someone else behind his back. No matter what anyone said, she wouldn't do that to him.

 

The female gasped. “Seiran-fukutaichou? From the second? Really? It would make so much sense.” She sighed in an almost dreamy fashion. “And he's so handsome, too.”

 

“Not hardly,” older man was scoffing as he rolled his eyes. “Just you who thinks that.”

 

The other male snorted. “Apparently, so does that Kurosaki bitch.” He corrected with a falsetto tone, “Oh, excuse me. Kurosaki-fukutaichou. Wonder what she had to do to get that pos--”

 

His words abruptly cut off as he noticed the simmering reiatsu of the captain standing just behind his two companions, face a mask of fury. It was surging from Ichigo in paralyzing waves, though he couldn't do much but glare at them, the anger rendering him temporarily speechless.

 

“K-Kurosaki-taichou...” the woman stuttered, barely able to turn and stare with wide eyes. A white-knuckled grip clutched to the papers in her hand.

 

Ichigo clenched his teeth, fighting the fierce scream building in his throat. He bit his lip hard, drawing blood that only trickled down his throat in a slithering manner. Somewhere inside of him, Shirosaki stirred and awakened fully under the pull of his reiatsu. And Ichigo knew without a doubt that his eyes had taken on a distinctly golden hue.

 

Somehow, he managed a smile. But it was a fierce and cruel thing. An Aizen-smile. One given just as he plunged in the sword or set the world on fire.

 

“T-tai... chou?” one of the men managed to gasp as he sank to his knees. “Ple... ase... tai... chou. Can't…”

 

His friend beside him was already on the ground, head having impacted with the street without Ichigo noticing. He was miraculously still conscious, still alive, but it was debatable how long that would last. Especially as the lone woman was in her not-so-slow descent to join him, now on her hands and knees. Papers scattered everywhere.

 

Inside him, Shirosaki just laughed.

 

And like Kyouka Suigetsu sheathed, the spell was broken. Ichigo snapped back to himself and pulled in as much reiatsu as he could, trying his hardest not to see the scorch marks on the nearby walls.

 

He tilted his head then, staring down at them dispassionately. “If you've got something to say about my wife, I suggest you say it to me.” He paused waiting for a response, but none of them were in any shape to answer. “No?” he allowed after a moment. “Then, keep your damn mouths shut.”

 

With that he turned and stepped away, stopping a few heartbeats later.

 

“I suggest,” Ichigo added in a cold tone, one that would have done Byakuya proud, “that you be very careful what you say in the future. You never who might be listening.”

 

The faint gasp of relief behind him might have been a noise of assent, but he didn't spare them another glance, already stalking away. He knew that it was irrational to take out his anger over rumors on just a few who were spreading them, but he couldn't stand there and listen to them say such things anymore. Especially since they regarded Rukia.

 

Eyebrows twitching, Ichigo altered his course. He couldn't spar with Renji now, not to just blow some steam. He was far too angry and would likely end up hurting the other captain. Either that or Shirosaki might want to play, and he was just a tad too furious to put up an effort to stop him. Nor could he go home, not with the way his reiatsu was swirling around him, fighting against his control.

 

He ended up at the sixth division, after all, sneaking in through a hidden entrance that Byakuya had shown him not too long ago. It had amused him, the refined and dignified Kuchiki noble needing an escape route from his division office. But he supposed that the Shinigami Women's Association was a scary thing indeed.

 

He ghosted through the hallways, easily avoiding any others, and managed to get into Byakuya's office completely unnoticed. Ichigo felt drained, tired and stretched to the breaking point, as he shut and locked the door behind him. His body was unbelievably heavy as he rested against the doorframe. But somehow, he managed to push himself up and shuffle over to Byakuya's desk, easing himself into the seat.

 

`Better than sitting on the floor,' Ichigo decided, knowing that Byakuya wouldn't care. It wasn't like he hadn't done this before.

 

He sat for a little while, head resting on one hand as he toyed with edge of his haori with his fingertips, noticing that he would probably need to get a new one soon; the dark blue lining was starting to come loose in several places. Ichigo huffed as he let go and made a sound the back of his throat, hunching over. His eyes strayed over the desktop and the unsigned papers resting just in front of him. Byakuya's stamp sat tantalizingly on the corner of the desk, just three feet away.

 

Ichigo frowned. It wasn't like he had anything else better to do now, and if paperwork was good for anything, it was making the mind go numb. Which was exactly what he needed. With the anger still a simmer inside of him, he needed the distraction.

 

Sighing, he reached for the stamp, snagging ink and a brush as well.

 

Some indeterminable amount of time later, Ichigo set the last page in the completed stack. His lips pulled into a scowl when he noticed that there was no more left for him to do, and a quick check of the desk drawers confirmed it. Though he did find a few other odds and ends. A stray bag of candy, probably a bribe for Yachiru. Some unopened and neatly-pressed envelopes on very expensive paper, most likely more marriage proposals. A well-perused copy of Othello, Byakuya's favorite. And a photograph of Ichigo's children with their father and uncle standing off to one side.

 

Ichigo paused and took the picture out to take a better look, noting that it had to be rather recent since the twins were in it. And he ran a thumb over each of their faces. Kaien and then Syaoran followed by Ryuu and Mikan. They all looked so happy. So carefree.

 

Ichigo just sighed and stared for several long minutes. He rubbed a tired hand over his face and closed his eyes.

 

Of course, someone chose that moment to forcefully knock on the door, disturbing him from the small measure of peace he had managed to acquire. Ichigo furrowed his brow but kept his silence. There wasn't supposed to be anyone in the office, after all. Especially since most of the division was gone.

 

“Ichigo-kun!” A voice called, or sang rather, to him through the door, sounding suspiciously like his vice-captain. “Open the door, please.”

 

“We would hate to break it down,” another voice chimed in far too cheerily and bearing some resemblance to Shunsui. “Byakuya-bo might get angry, and we all know the consequences of that.”

 

Ichigo very softly put the picture back and closed the drawer. With the speed of an old man, he stood and returned Byakuya's chair to its proper place, lips pulling into a frown. How had they known he was there? And why, for that matter, had they sought him out?

 

He wrenched the door open and was treated to their beaming faces, far too happy for his taste. Ichigo returned their sunny dispositions with a scowl.

 

“What are you doing here?” he demanded like they had invaded his bedroom and not Byakuya's office.

 

Yumichika practically sparkled at him, making Ichigo's suspicions rise even higher. “We're taking you out, of course,” he answered and reached forward to loop one arm around his captain and tug him towards the door. “You've been cooping yourself up too much.”

 

One eye twitched in a gesture very reminiscent of Toushirou. “How did you know I was here?”

 

A knowing, almost accusing look, glinted in brown eyes as Shunsui chuckled. “A little butterfly informed us, also mentioning that you had become a bit of a social outcast. What could we do but oblige his highness?”

 

His attention swiveled to the older captain, having the sneaky suspicion he knew the identity of their little butterfly. “Shouldn't you be annoying Jyuushiro or something?” Ichigo asked and then winced inwardly. He was about as prickly as a grumpy Yama-jii at the moment.

 

Shunsui didn't seem offended in the slightest, in fact taking his other arm in the same manner as Yumichika. “Jyuu-chan wanted some alone time with little Izuru,” he responded cheerily as he and Ichigo's traitorous vice-captain began directing the younger man towards the door. “And I was all too happy to oblige.”

 

“Somehow, I'm not surprised,” Ichigo mumbled, knowing far better than to put up any sort of protest. He had been neglecting his friends as of late, Byakuya notwithstanding.

 

“Now, don't sound like that Ichigo,” Shunsui chided, far too cheerfully. “It's not like we're kidnapping you or anything.”

 

A skeptical look was turned on the eighth-division captain, Ichigo's eyes narrowed. “That's exactly what you're doing,” he retorted.

 

“And yet, not an ounce of resistance from you, taichou,” Yumichika twittered, sounding far too pleased with himself. “You need this, I know.”

 

Ichigo had long learned that arguing with his vice-captain was pointless. When Yumichika set his mind on something, come Aizen-attack or Seireitei-invasion, he was going to get it. Which explained the frilly touches to his office and the fancy stamp that he had to use on all his important documents. Ichigo was certain that there more changes his vice-captain had effected, but a part of him didn't want to know. So long as his division ran smoothly and no one was dissatisfied, he was content to let Yumichika do as he wished.

 

Even so, he felt he had to protest, because he was a captain and a father both; Ichigo had responsibilities. “Yumichika, I promised Tohru that I would be home after work today. I can't leave my children alone.”

 

Completely unfazed, Yumichika waved a hand. “Please, Ichigo-kun, when have I ever executed an incomplete plan? The children are already being taken care of. Nothing to worry about there.”

 

No escape now.

 

Another sigh escaped him before he could stop it. “Where are we going?” he asked, wearily conceding to his fate.

 

Patting him on the arm, Yumichika finally eased his grip so that they weren't so close and stumbling along like a trio of drunken fools. “Where else?” he asked brightly.

 

Internally, he groaned. He had a pretty good idea. To the ninth district where the favorite bar of the higher seats of the eleventh division was located. He had the feeling that there were probably others waiting.

 

Yumichika and Shunsui chattered over him from then on, both men deftly steering him in the proper direction. Soon, they were passing through the gates and into Rukongai, the buildings shifting from cozy homes to establishments. Above them, the sky rapidly went from an endless blue to the ominous overcast of a pending thunderstorm. It was sheer luck that they arrived at the bar before the clouds burst, dropping buckets of water down on the unsuspecting masses.

 

He was immediately ushered inside, thrust ahead of Yumichika and Shunsui, and plunged into the dim interior of the building. A wet and humid air followed his entrance, the scent of rain strong. Ichigo gave himself a minute to adjust to the change in light before he started looking. But it turned out that a search wasn't necessary. His arrival had been immediately noticed.

 

“Yo, Ichigo!”

 

It became pretty obvious, at that point, that all chance for escape had come and gone. Perched at a large table and waving one large hand in the air to gesture them over, Ikkaku was cradling his very own sake jug. Scattered in various positions around him were Kenpachi and Nanao-san, oddly enough.

 

His two captors abandoned his side, taking up their seats at the table, Shunsui next to Nanao and Yumichika lowering himself beautifully beside Ikkaku. With everyone looking up at him expectantly, Ichigo didn't even think to turn around and leave. Instead, he plopped down between his own vice-captain and Kenpachi. The safest position, he figured, and it had the added bonus of saving the eleventh division captain from his former fifth-seat.

 

The alcohol was already flowing rather steadily, and Ichigo accepted the bowl passed his direction.

 

“Been awhile since I've seen ya,” Ikkaku commented with a waving hand, looking two steps from sprawling over the floor and perching in his usual fashion. A bald head glinted in the light.

 

Ichigo shot the third-seat a look. “I've been busy,” he responded, taking a sip of the strong and clear sake that was poured into his bowl.

 

“Too busy to fight with me even.” Kenpachi grunted, took a gulp of his sake, and then added, “Gettin' boring around here.”

 

“I fail to see how that's a bad thing,” Nanao inserted solidly, glasses glinting in the dim light of the bar. Ichigo wasn't quite sure how that was possible, but somehow, she managed it. “Excitement usually means danger of some kind.”

 

Kenpachi waved a dismissing hand. “What good is a soldier without a war to fight in?” he countered and grinned ferally. “Peace ain't bad, but it's borin'.”

 

“I don't know,” Shunsui began with a shrug. “I'm kind of partial to it myself. It beats fighting those hordes of insane Hollow Aizen kept tossing at us.”

 

His words had the unfortunate dampening effect of reminding everyone at the table of a battle forty or so years past. A moment was spent in recollection, silence descending, until it was finally broken by a relatively simple query.

 

“Where is Yachiru?” Nanao asked with a pointed look around the table.

 

It was a well-known fact that the small lieutenant often crashed their drinking parties, even if she was technically too young. There was little the establishment could do to kick her out, especially when Zaraki glared.

 

Ikkaku shrugged and snorted, looking far more interested in his alcohol. “Prolly off at Ukitake-taichou's, stalking Kira.”

 

Nanao lifted one elegant brow, her captain guffawing beside her. “Pardon?” she encouraged, sheer effort keeping her from blinking in confusion.

 

Shaking his head, Kenpachi reached for a sake bottle, wanting to pour it himself rather than wait for someone else. “Girl's got a damn fool crush on a married man,” he grunted. “I can't talk any sense into her.”

 

“Honestly,” Yumichika added with a prim sniff. “And with the two of them looking to adopt...”

 

“Looking? Hah.” Shunsui chuckled, obliging Nanao by topping off her bowl before swirling his own alcohol and sipping at it. “They've already found. They're just waiting on the paperwork.”

 

Nanao inclined her head. “Which, in Seireitei, could take weeks. If not months. Though Yamamoto-soutaichou is trying to encourage it to move through the system faster.”

 

Their conversation washed over Ichigo with him only catching bits and pieces. No one seemed to notice that he wasn't contributing, nor did they seem to care. Which was fine with him. He could think in peace with the lovely burn of alcohol in his belly.

 

He knew his limits and wasn't going to get anywhere near them. He didn't need another night like the disaster before his vacation. But it was nice to simply enjoy the flavors. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, being there with his friends discussing everything but Ichigo's issues was encouraging.

 

“Akon-taichou has finally selected a fukutaichou, I hear,” Nanao inserted and calmly sipped at her drink.

 

When they had switched to a new topic, Ichigo wasn't entirely sure. But he let their words swirl around him anyway.

 

“Oh?” Shunsui lifted an interested brow and patted her on the shoulder. “Nanao-chan, you have to tell me these things, or I don't know them.”

 

She squared her shoulders. “It was in the paperwork I put on your desk, sir,” Nanao replied with one of her famous reprimanding stares that Shunsui had long grown immune to.

 

“Eh heh...” Shunsui scratched his chin as he let out a slightly nervous laugh. “So... who is it?” The quick change of subject did not go unnoticed.

 

“Tsubokura Rin,” Nanao answered and returned her attention to the others at the table.

 

In return, she received a series of confused blinking. The name wasn't ringing familiar to anyone present.

 

“Who?” Ikkaku asked, fingers rubbing over his head.

 

Beside him, Yumichika suddenly sparkled in remembrance. “Ah! That adorable little boy who is friends with Hanatarou-kun.”

 

Kenpachi squinted his one eye in evident confusion. “I thought that was a girl,” he responded. “Sure looks like one.”

 

Drawing up straight, Yumichika shot his former captain a warning look that nearly mimicked the one Nanao had given Shunsui. “He is male, I assure you.”

 

Shunsui shook his head. “Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah,” Ikkaku thought fit to chime in. “I mean, take one look at yerself. How can anyone tell these days?”

 

His jaw dropped for several seconds before Yumichika swelled up indignantly. “There is nothing wrong with being beautiful.”

 

“Alright,” Kenpachi interrupted, shaking his bowl for more sake and stopping the potential blustering outrage that his former subordinate was about to release. “Enough of that. The kid's a boy. We got it. Movin' on.”

 

Huffing, Yumichika shot Ikkaku a glare and shifted to get comfortable. Shunsui, knowing full well what an irate Yumichika was capable of, hurriedly began a new conversation.

 

“I hear that Ki-kun's coming back for a visit,” he declared cheerfully, cheeks reddening with a bit of a flush. “Isn't that right, Nanao-chan?”

 

Her brow twitched, and she reached up, adjusting her glasses with one pointed finger. “He has sent word that he will be using a Seikaimon soon.”

 

“Why?” Yumichika asked, interest stirring and prior grievance immediately flitting away. “I seem to remember him expressing no interest to return.”

 

Shunsui tipped up his hat and looked to Nanao, something amusing flittering in his dark eyes. Seeming to sense whatever silent conversation was going between them, she returned the look with a glare.

 

“I suppose that you will have to ask him,” she responded with a dismissive shrug.

 

The staring contest between captain and vice-captain continued, a faint blush beginning to creep into Nanao's cheeks at his insinuations.

 

“Well, it's about damn time,” Kenpachi muttered, oblivious to their staring. He scratched one finger under the band of his eye patch; the damn thing itched all the time. “Seems ta me a lot of people need ta light a fire under their asses.” That single glare turned towards Ichigo, but the fifth-division captain didn't even notice.

 

As one, everyone at the table turned their attention to Ichigo, but his gaze was turned inwards, thoughts completely in another world. He had long stopped listening to their conversation, only mindlessly drinking the sake as it was poured for him.

 

Until a hand stopped his bowl mid-way to his lips. Ichigo started and blinked in surprise, following the grip and connecting it to Ikkaku.

 

“So now ya notice that we're here, too,” the bald man said, finally releasing the bowl and letting Ichigo finish his drink.

 

The younger man scowled. “It wasn't like I had a choice in coming here.” He made a faint gesture towards the entire group. “Besides, I have more important things to think about than... who's sleeping with whom or which division has the softest toilet paper.”

 

His words managed to effectively kill the mood. The table lost most of its joviality, which had seemed forced anyway. Frowning, at himself more than the others, Ichigo burrowed down into his corner of the table. He felt trapped by all the sympathy and pity suddenly radiating towards him.

 

“Forget it,” he mumbled, knowing that they were just his friends and therefore concerned for him. “What were you talking about?”

 

Rather than pick up their prior conversation, however, Kenpachi thunked his jug on the table and pinned Ichigo down with a firm stare.

 

“Kami, I'm tired of this shit,” he said after a moment, ignoring the widened eyes of the people around him. “All this avoidance shit. Just gonna talk about it anyway.”

 

Nanao looked ready to cut in, but Shunsui put a hand on her arm, effectively silencing her. Yumichika put down his drink, face unreadable.

 

“Yeah,” Ikkaku inserted and took another drink. “So what're ya gonna do?”

 

“Do?” Ichigo blinked. His insides squirmed, Shirosaki teasing the edge of his mind.

 

Kenpachi scratched under his eyepatch again. “Yeah. `bout Rukia?”

 

Ichigo eyes swiveled to him, and he bit his lip.

 

Ikkaku rubbed his chin, slick fingers sneaking in and stealing the sake jug right from under his captain's nose. “Ya ever think that maybe ya just need to let her go?” he suggested and prepared to tip more into Ichigo's bowl.

 

Brown eyes narrowed. “Let go?” Ichigo repeated, anger curling around him like the enclosing folds of a blanket. It spiked into his reiatsu, making the table rattle. “If I had just let go back then, we wouldn't even be here now. If I had let go when Orihime was taken, we never would have gotten her back. If I had let go when Rukia was taken, she'd be dead. If I had let go during the war, then Aizen would be king. So don't fucking talk about letting go.”

 

Silence immediately followed his words.

 

Working his jaw, Ichigo thrust himself into his feet. “I'm going home,” he muttered, and without another word, he left the bar.

 

Left behind, the stunned sort of silence reigned until Kenpachi slammed his hand onto the table. “Dammit, every fuckin' time, Ikkaku. Learn to shut yer mouth, you tactless moron.”

 

“Yeah, nice one,” Shunsui added.

 

“You utter fool.” Yumichika sniffed, sliding away from his best friend as though worried he would be infected by the tactless stupidity. “So unbeautiful.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Ikkaku snorted. “Look. I was just sayin' what all of you are thinkin'.”

 

“That is no excuse,” Nanao retorted with another adjustment of her glasses, her stare far more intimidating than the others being leveled his direction. “None at all.”

 

“Whatever.” He flicked his wrist in a dismissive wave. “Ichigo needed to hear it from someone. So pass the damn sake.”

 

- - - - -