Chapter 5

Hey guys. It has been awhile. I have no excuse for postponing this story. I was in a car crash soon after I posted the last chapter and I injured my spine and neck. I can no longer sit for longer periods of time without my back locking up. I'll admit that I lost my inspiration to write and I threw myself into my college classes so I wouldn't have to think about it. But recently I got a message from FrostyDew that made me realize that so many people have been waiting and giving me their support. It made me realize that I have a duty to continue this story, both for you guys and myself. So I promise you all that this story will be complete. It may take a while and I don't know how often I'll update but it will be done.

This is for FrostyDew.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or its characters.

Ichigo was tiny for a baby. He thinks.

Toshiro had never been around babies, so he was guessing.

Ichigo was just really, really, small.

And cute. Immensely cute.

Toshiro was on official babysitting duty while Isshin and Masaki were on "date night." It had been a few weeks since Ichigo's birth and life had settled enough that the parents could once again live their lives. So when they discussed going out, Toshiro had graciously offered his abilities in watching Ichigo.

It wasn't like he wanted alone time with the kid. He was just being a good "adopted son."

Really.

He means it.

(He'll never admit it to Isshin though. He'd rather fight Hollows.)

And speaking of Hollows, Toshiro had another reason for wanting Ichigo alone. His reiastu had started to stabilize as he grew older and Toshiro could say with complete certainty that he had some Hollow in him. His reiastu was probably the most convoluted and interesting thing that he had experienced in his afterlife.

Shinigami, Hollow, Quincy. Three things that should be fighting each other for dominance. The opposing forces should have destroyed Ichigo from the inside, and yet they weren't. In fact, they were in complete harmony. It was strange, yet reassuring.

Toshiro didn't know what he'd do if it was the opposite.

He had become close to Ichigo since his birth. He didn't know if it was his chubby face, deep eyes, or his eye-catching hair, but he felt immensely protective of Ichigo. If his reiastu fluctuated, Toshiro was often there before Masaki to calm him or start feeding him a bottle. Isshin and Masaki would often coo at him when they caught him, saying that his big brother instincts were on high alert. Toshiro would agree with them if the thought wasn't so embarrassing.

Also, he would never agree on anything with Isshin. Masaki, maybe. Isshin, never.

"You are so lucky you take after your mother," Toshiro told Ichigo, letting the baby grab onto his fingers and hold onto them. It was either his fingers or hair and he didn't want Ichigo ripping out any more strands. For an infant, he was immensely strong. He didn't know if that was his reiastu or if babies were the strongest beings on Earth.

And Ichigo had certainly taken after Masaki. Besides the physical attributes, Ichigo was a well-mannered child. He only cried when he was hungry or needed a diaper change. Otherwise it was quite easy to get him to laugh.

Speaking of laughter.

Toshiro took back his fingers, smiling when Ichigo gave him a scowl before settling down. He put his hands over his face and waited a few moments.

"Ichigo, where are you?" Toshiro asked, stuffing down his mortification. He was an imperial Shinigami and he was playing games with an infant. But there wasn't anyone to see him, so he thought that it was acceptable.

Ichigo giggled when Toshiro removed his hands, making exaggerated motions as he looked around. When his eyes settled on Ichigo, Toshiro started.

"There you are!" Toshiro exclaimed, smile growing.

Ichigo howled with laughter as Toshiro repeated the game for a while, sometimes walking away to look for Ichigo behind the couch and underneath the table.

Eventually Toshiro returned and picked Ichigo up, making sure to support his back and butt. He carried him into the kitchen, where a prepared bottle was resting near the refrigerator. He retrieved the bottle and sat in a chair, changing Ichigo's position so that he was more comfortable. Once he was settled, he gave the bottle to Ichigo, smiling when he starting eating with gusto. Toshiro let his mind wander.

Life was comfortable.

As a Shinigami, Toshiro expected to live a life of war and battle. He would stain the ground red as he fought Hollow after Hollow. That would continue for hundreds, thousands of years if he was lucky. That was what Toshiro expected his life to be life, accepted it.

He never thought his life would turn out to be like this. In a warm house, with warm people who genuinely loved him. If he wanted to, he could remain in his gigai and retire from the Shinigami life. He would always yield his sword for his family, but besides that he would not have to fight anymore. The fact that this was an option still boggled him to this day.

But a life like that wasn't unappealing.

No longer would he have to be Toshiro of the Seireitei. He could just be Toshiro, adopted son of Isshin and Masaki Kurosaki. Adopted brother of Ichigo and any other children that came along.

He wanted that. He wanted that so badly it hurt.

But a part of him knew that it would be impossible.

He may be able to play that part for decades, but eventually everyone would pass away. He could act as a protector of his family's descendants, but they too would wither with age and move on. And if he ever returned to the afterlife to see them, he would be captured and most likely executed for his transgressions.

No matter what Toshiro decided to choose, he would always be a Shinigami.

That thought left a bitter taste in his mouth and he returned his gaze to Ichigo, who had finished his bottle and was reaching for him. Just seeing him put Toshiro in a better mood.

"Even if you grow old and withered, you will always be my little brother," Toshiro whispered to Ichigo. Even though they were the only ones in the house, Toshiro felt like this should be a secret between the two of them. As if this promise would break if prying ears heard.

Getting up from the chair, Toshiro climbed the stairs to Ichigo's nursery. He placed him down and wrapped him up with his blankets. Toshiro told himself not to worry. Ichigo was just a baby, weeks old. It would be a long time until his death, if Toshiro had a say in it. This was a problem for a much later time.

"Your name means to protect. But until you grow into that role, I will be your protector. For as long as you need me," Toshiro told Ichigo as he backed out of his nursery.

"Good night, Ichigo. Sweet dreams."