[ A/N: Hi, and thanks for reading! ]

[ United States Air Force A1C Ichigo Kurosaki wanted to get away. Against all odds he's assigned to Security Forces at Yokota Air Base, under an hour from home. Seirei-gumi Yakuza family "Older Sister" Rukia Kuchiki wanted to fit in. Dispatched to Karakura, she discovers a plot to overturn Japan's criminal underworld. Their chance meeting is anything but, and they'll only survive the web of lies cast over Tokyo's concrete jungle by sticking together. ]

[ As you might guess from the summary, this fic occurs in an alternate universe, modern day, no-powers setting. It's basically a retelling of Bleach in a "realistic" scenario. ]

[ This fic is rated M for adult themes and situations, and will contain depictions of intimacy. The chapters containing it will be labeled as such, as will chapters featuring sauciness. If you're not okay with that, I advise you don't continue. ]

[ I started writing this for IRBB (IchiRuki Big Bang) 2016–2017 and was able to work with the wonderful juujishou on some art for it! Also, a special shout-out to synoshian, sequencefairy, and duckiesteasmiles for beta-reading the first three chapters! It's also available on AO3, and there's a link to the art post there. ]

[ Bleach is copyright to Tite Kubo, Shueisha, et al. I make no claim of ownership of it and this story is intended purely for non-commercial purposes. ]

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

Neon rain fell in sporadic sheets, always hot. Asphalt steamed, glowing with rippling prismatic bands. Every color of the rainbow coruscated, glinting off umbrellas—mostly clear plastic—that hurried to and fro.

A white and lilac wagasa parasol advanced steadily through the bustle. It bore an unseasonable lunar crescent of snowflakes and was lit from below by carefully concealed soft white LEDs.

Rukia strode beneath it with poise and grace, immune to the heat and humidity. Civilians flowed by her on instinct, like schools of fish about a predator. She wore a Western-style two-piece suit—a black jacket and slacks—and the collar of her white blouse rested open above the former's lapels.

To all appearances she made for a plausible—if rather short—office lady, yet her bearing alone suggested something was off. If one looked carefully, her dress shoes hinted at the story. However, the wagasa, and especially the oversized pink pair of almost-oval shades she had on, really advertised what she was—the street was lit up, but the sun had set almost two hours before.

It wasn't long before she passed yet another nondescript alleyway leading off the thoroughfare. Her shoes splashed in a puddle that echoed in optical riot as she halted. She turned and trekked into the gloom, taking off her sunglasses and letting her parasol light the way. It was soon the only source of illumination, silhouetting her as she disappeared around a corner and vanished from the night.

Rukia looked directly at Kiyone. "A... transfer order?" But, she had her crew to attend to, and...

Kiyone gave a small laugh and took on a bemused expression, waving a hand in front of her to dismiss the idea. "No, no, no! It's nothing as big as a transfer! It's only a temporary mission. Like the one you did when you first came here! Only that!"

Rukia blinked and shifted back against the leather couch as she looked down in thought. "Ehhh..."

Kiyone leaned forward incredulously. "How can you not remember?!"

"You probably got her into something where she got hit on the head and forgot, right, Kuchiki!?" Sentarō jibed.

"What?! Shut up!" Kiyone roared, "Just get out of here and go walk off the Sumitomo Building or something!"

"The place you're being dispatched to is a Western Tokyo town named Karakura..." a new voice interrupted. Ukitake entered the room with a smile. "With your abilities, it shouldn't be difficult at all."

Rukia promptly stood in surprise and so did Kiyone, while Sentarō whirled. "Aniki!" they each proclaimed.

Kiyone made it the farthest, holding out her hands as if to usher Ukitake back out. "You ought to be resting!"

"Oh, no, I feel good today," Ukitake explained. "Besides, although it's only temporary, I thought Kuchiki would be worried, so I came here to send her off myself."

Rukia's eyes widened. She dropped, her hands thumping on the floor in front of her as she bowed low. "Thank you very much!"

Ukitake gave her a friendly, if chagrined, look. "You don't have to be so formal. Have you told Byakuya?" He knew she'd been informed of the fact of the mission a week prior, but not about its nature.

Rukia looked up. "Ah... no, not yet—hmm..." She trailed off as she thought of her brother's usual reaction to her news.

Ukitake's expression sobered as he saw the light in her eyes dim.

"I think... aniki would tell me not to inform him of such insignificant things. So, I'd rather go... without telling him," Rukia stated, casting her gaze down.

"Well," Ukitake began, advancing toward her and dropping into a crouch, "that's okay."

Rukia blinked at him.

He forced a smile. "If that's what you want, it's alright. Let me tell Byakuya instead. Don't worry about it!"

Kiyone and Sentarō put on a show of looking elsewhere in deference while still discretely listening.

Rukia stared for a moment before nodding. "Yes!"

Ukitake's smile grew wider as it turned genuine. He reached forward to clasp Rukia's shoulder, then stood.

She followed and respectfully bowed again before making her way out of the room. The orders in her jacket's breast pocket seemed oddly heavy—she decided it was just her imagination.

Rukia hastily retraced her path through the periodic rain. She only slowed once she was in the concrete depths of the parking garage that sheltered her customized 2003 Nissan Fairlady Z33 Touring—her baby—and finally caught sight of it gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

It had a full wide body kit, an aftermarket hood, a wing spoiler, and snowflake-patterned rims—the top was a stark titanium white that faded in a wavy hamon pattern to a pearlescent white below the beltline.

Rukia made her way toward it, pulling out her keys and using the remote to unlock it. Her fingers stroked along the roof as she opened the driver's side door and slid down into the cabin, sinking into the plush leather seat and sighing as she tipped her head back against it. She shut the door and locked it. Long moments passed as she steadied her breathing.

Finally, she fished her orders out of her suit jacket and tore the letter open. She blinked as she read and scanned back over the words several times. The missive was from Ukitake himself and warned of 'recent efforts by another syndicate to expand narcotics trafficking into our territory, using a new type of drug'. She kept returning to one line in particular: 'These efforts are believed to originate from Karakura; you are to determine whether this is accurate and you are to eliminate the source, if possible.'

Her gaze hardened and she mentally reviewed her state of readiness. She had a travel bag of clothes and sundries already packed in the trunk, along with Sode no Shirayuki and her handgun. She opened the glove box and slipped the note inside. Once she shut it again she was in motion, smoothly turning the ignition. The engine rumbled to life as she programmed the GPS, starting to work the stick and pedals as she pulled out of the parking space.

Rukia was soon thundering down the Chūō Expressway to the strobe of street lights and the throaty purr of a V6, her focus laser-like, her grip certain. She precisely wove in and out of slower traffic, bearing due east just slightly off-center from Mt. Fuji—not that it was visible given the cloud cover and the continuing rain showers.

The keen of the engine revved up a notch as she shifted gears and continued to accelerate. Karakura was a half-hour away, but it'd only take her twenty two minutes to make it there.

Rukia smoothly braked as the light in front of her turned red. She cast her attention from side to side as she took in the idling thrum of the engine. It was strange how much space there was in Karakura. Something about it set her teeth on edge. She was increasingly aware of how much her car stood out and realized she was going to have to find somewhere to put it that was not only safe, but inconspicuous.

Half an hour later, she stood atop one of the taller buildings that made up what passed for Karakura's shopping district. She considered the town from beneath her parasol in darkness, its lights off. It was a quaint but stagnant town.

Rukia shut her eyes as she considered that the peace was a lie. Her sigh was audible over the patter of the rainfall. How was she going to find the source of the rot that had taken hold in this place?

Ichigo was the last person to shuffle out of the boarding gate. He stopped and flinched at how clammy the terminal's air conditioned atmosphere was, then stretched and yawned. His fleeting catnaps hadn't done much. He surveyed the space as he lowered his arms.

Terminal 1 of Narita International Airport was the same as when he'd left and still looked like it'd been designed by a 90s desktop fetishist. Every surface was flat, boring, and some color on the spectrum from beige to grey. The place was spottily lit and deserted.

Ichigo grimaced. With effort, he recalled the landing announcements—it was little more than an hour until the airport closed. As he turned to the large floor-to-ceiling windows he remembered it had to do with noise pollution.

The sky was raven-dark and all he could see were raindrop-blurred constellations of runway and aircraft lights. He studied them to try and divine some meaning from their patterns before turning away and shouldering his backpack.

Artificially chill, rainy, and devoid of life: the perfect welcome home greeting. It was a circumstance at least partially of his own making: he'd insisted his family not show up to greet him—it wasn't like they had a car, and it wasn't worth the expense to get there. He'd also turned down his sponsor's offer to do the same, and she'd acquiesced.

Ichigo soon entered the south wing of the terminal proper, making his way down to the second floor. He had no business with quarantine and forced himself on to immigration processing. There was no queue, so he went straight to the counter.

The woman staffing it gave him an appraising look before asking, "Hello, your passport and boarding pass, please?" in Japanese.

For a moment, Ichigo was tempted to just hand her his Japanese passport, but that might cause complications. Stick to the script, stupid. With a repressed sigh he placed his travel orders, active duty ID, American passport, and boarding pass on the counter, sliding them forward.

She blinked and reviewed the documents, glancing at him curiously as she did so. They were all in order and after stamping his passport she switched to English: "Thank you, Mr. Kurosaki. Welcome to Japan!"

"Yeah, thanks," he replied in Japanese.

She blinked again and smiled. "Your Japanese is very good!"

Ichigo didn't have the heart to even bother. He just nodded, taking his documentation back and heading downstairs to baggage claim.

Finding his duffel bag on the carousel was a mercifully straight-forward and short-lived experience—it was the only item still going around on the conveyer belt.

Clearing customs was uneventful. The only things he had of note beyond his clothing and uniforms were gifts for his family; their nature and value meant they were duty-free.

It was as Ichigo processed through that his mind turned to transportation. He was too tired to try and drive and it didn't matter since all the rental car services had already closed. The buses had more or less finished running too. That left taxis and the trains.

He forced himself to try and consider the cost of cab fare: it'd probably be somewhere around ¥35,000 for the fare, with a 30% late night fee... that was somewhere around $400. He scrunched up his face at the number—he hadn't spent a lot of cash during his three months in Texas, but the idea of paying that much hurt his wallet and pride alike.

Ichigo headed downstairs to Terminal 1's underground station to try his luck and found there was still one more train for the night—the last Skyliner. He managed to get the ticketing booth to tell him what other connections he needed to make along the way.

He spent his time waiting on the platform somewhere else in his mind.

When the train showed, he was one of only five people to board. He found a seat and leaned his head against the window, slipping away back to that other place.

His day had started over twenty four hours and more than ten thousand kilometers away. The whole thing had been something of a mess. He hadn't been able to secure space on the Rotator out of Seattle, so he'd taken a three and a half hour United Airlines hop from San Antonio to Los Angeles, and another twelve hour one from there to Narita, with a lot of wait time in between.

He'd been granted thirty days' leave to complete his permanent change of station, and also had his travel days. He was willing to use a few of them to see his family, so he'd gotten his sponsor to agree to meet him on Friday as his official "arrival." It wasn't a vacation, but he'd felt since he was only using a week of the allocated time, he wasn't doing anything wrong. It was just as well, as his flight had shown up too late for any of the shuttles to Yokota Air Base anyway.

Ichigo briefly focused as the train began to move, and again when it came to a brief halt at Terminal 2. Then they were away, and he was gone. He faded in and out of awareness as they shot through the countryside, sometimes catching fleeting glimpses of the lights dotting the countryside towns. They grew in number every time he saw them again. His thoughts—when he had them—stayed elsewhere or drifted to San Antonio.

Some part of him wondered if that was normal, but he'd spent three months at Lackland Air Force Base. He'd hated the place with a certainty that was vast and cool, and nursing that scorn was the only thing keeping him half-awake. His thoughts sluggishly turned to whether it was better or worse than where he was headed. The comparison lingered unfinished in his thoughts for some strange infinity before his attention was simply nowhere again.

He saw another brief snapshot as a curve jarred him: city lights, much denser, glittering like diamonds.

Ichigo jerked alert to a chime and a too-helpful voice telling him they'd arrived at Nippori Station. He blinked his eyes and ran a hand over his face before picking up his bags and getting off the train.

The station's air was neither the dank environment of Narita nor the aggressively dull room temperature of the Skyliner, but the proper stifling humidity of the Greater Tokyo Area in summertime. It instantly clung to him and seeped into his clothes in a way that was at once both more familiar and more contemptible than the Texan equivalent.

He scowled and trudged through it to the nearest ticketing booth, then on to his next train. He had to go around the core of Tokyo proper to Shinjuku Station, and from there to Naruki.

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

It was a quarter-hour after midnight—hour 26—when Ichigo emerged from Nagayama Station in Naruki. He considered the light drizzle from beneath the walkway before stretching his calves. What was it that MTI Hastings had said every time he'd made them drop and do push-ups? 'Into every life a little rain must fall.' Yeah, something like that—sir.

While everyone else had needed to kick using titles like a bad habit at Tech School, he'd dropped using them for everyone other than proper officers like a hot rock. The abuses of Basic had been trivial; they'd never broken him. It was only when they'd started to turn the rest of his Flight against him by punishing them for his routine defiance that he'd begun to toe the line. He'd been able to take the heat, but he wouldn't make others endure it. It'd been a neat trick and he'd learned something from it—and that was why MTI Hastings, alone among all non-commissioned officers, remained 'sir.'

His lips twitched into something halfway between a sneer and a smirk as he shouldered the duffel bag and started forward into the downpour. Sometimes you've just got to keep putting one foot in front of the other...

Ichigo paused at the front door long enough to take a breath. He withdrew his keys and carefully unlocked it, quietly stepping inside without announcing himself. As he slipped his shoes off, he took in the flickering of the television in the living room, noticing two heads poking up from above the back of the couch. He set his bag down and slid off his backpack.

One of them turned toward the door despite his attempt at stealth.

He could tell from the scattered light it was Karin.

Her eyes immediately went wide and she glanced to Yuzu, shaking her before hopping over the back of the couch. She sprinted up to him and hugged him around the waist, burying her face against his shirt.

Yuzu wasn't far behind and latched onto him the same way. She sniffled out, "Onii-chan..."

Ichigo brought a hand onto the back of each of their heads and knelt down so he was at their level. "Hey."

Karin got her arms up under his while Yuzu shifted and got hers around his neck. Both brought a cheek to one of his.

"You're all wet," Yuzu murmured, trying to bring her voice under control.

"Did you walk in the rain?" Karin added.

He cast his gaze down to the floor and drew them both tighter. "Yeah."

"You could have at least called to let us know you'd landed," Isshin stated.

Ichigo looked up to find his dad regarding them all with his arms crossed and a neutral expression. He smirked internally at how reserved he was being—apparently he was being treated as a man, as if he hadn't been one before.

Karin grudgingly released him and turned to face their father, planting her hands on her hips. She wasn't in the mood to see them fight.

Ichigo lightly ruffled her hair. When he spoke his tone was measured. "I would've missed my connecting trains." It wasn't really a lie.

Isshin narrowed his eyes but uncrossed his arms.

Yuzu reluctantly let go of Ichigo and turned, sniffling again and wiping at her eyes as she headed to the kitchen. "Go shower and change, I'll heat something up for you."

He stood and tracked her her progress to the kitchen. "You don't have to—"

"I'm not letting you go to bed with just airplane food in your stomach," she declared. It was clearly the last word on the matter.

Ichigo frowned before noticing Karin was already dragging his bags toward the stairs. "Oi, Karin, those are heavy!"

"No, they're not," she stated.

He followed after her and plucked the duffel bag away. "At least let me carry one."

Karin let out a "Hmph!" but continued on upstairs with his backpack.

A faint smile cracked Ichigo's expression. Maybe... maybe this wasn't the worst after all.

Ichigo picked up the office phone, peering at the number he'd written down before tapping in the keys.

It rang four times.

"It's after midnight, so this had better be important," Technical Sergeant Lisa Yadōmaru stated.

"Sorry, I thought I'd get your voice mail," Ichigo replied.

"Oh, it's you. Don't worry about it, you're my responsibility. So you made it in fine?"

"Yeah. It wasn't a problem."

There was a long pause before Lisa sighed. "You know, the lone wolf attitude doesn't impress anybody. You're too old for it to be cool."

He frowned and brushed a hand through his hair. "Who was trying to impress anyone? I just didn't want you to have to drive for hours to drop me off at my family's place!"

"Sure," she countered. "So, you're still wanting to meet at the gate on Friday morning?"

"0800 hours," he affirmed.

"I could pick you up."

"I'm telling you, it's not necessary!" he groused.

"Don't want your family getting the wrong idea?"

He frowned as his cheeks went a bit pink. He'd never seen her, but she sounded attractive. "That's not it at all!"

Lisa laughed at his obvious frustration. "Fine. I'll meet you there. We have a lot to do, so don't be late. Have a good night."

Ichigo was about to wish her the same when she hung up. He glared at the phone before resting it back on the receiver and heading back into the residential part of the building. He made a mental note that he'd probably have to pick up a cell phone.

Rukia powered off her portable printer, then did the same to her laptop, shutting it. She leaned over it and used it as a steady surface to finish assembling the fake ID she'd put together, attaching her photo to the card and then laminating it all. She studied the finished product critically before setting it on the nightstand and moving the electronics over to the same.

She gave her phone another glance to make sure she hadn't missed any messages, then flopped back onto the bed, letting out a long, resigned sigh and closing her eyes. Impersonating one of the Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare's Narcotics Control Department agents was distasteful to her for a variety of reasons, but that sort of thing was her role and it'd let her ask the questions she needed to without raising too many eyebrows.

If she was lucky, it might also draw the attention of her quarry. In such an event they wouldn't be expecting something rather more vicious than law enforcement.

Eventually she rolled onto one side and pulled the covers down, crawled under them, and turned off the light.

Ichigo considered the ceiling of his room through half-open eyes. It was almost possible to forget everything that'd happened, as though he'd stayed at home the whole time. Almost. He turned his head to look out the window.

He'd been surprised—yet pleased—that Karin and Yuzu had made no effort to try and stay in his room. They were 14, after all. He closed his eyes and listened to the regular tapping of the rain. I guess we're all getting older.

He resolved to hand out the gifts he'd brought after breakfast, then promptly passed out from exhaustion.

Karin turned the blue Texas Rangers jersey she'd been handed over in her hands. It was emblazoned with the state's name on the front and hers on the back. "A baseball team?"

Ichigo smiled. "Yeah."

"Never heard of them," she replied, looking at him dubiously.

He rolled his eyes and produced a navy blue NASA baseball cap he'd picked up on a weekend trip to the Johnson Space Center. "Maybe you'll like this more then."

She blinked and took it, taking a moment to place the logo.

Ichigo glanced to Yuzu. She'd set aside the large bottle of barbecue sauce he'd given her and was studying her new Tex-Mex cookbook.

She noticed his attention. "Um, onii-chan, I don't know that we can get a lot of the things needed for these recipes," she conjectured.

"Just think of it as a source of inspiration," he offered. He turned focus toward their dad. "Oi, old man."

Isshin lowered his newspaper slightly to look over it. "Hmm—" he began, only to barely catch something flung at his face. "Careful!" he proclaimed, then blinked and looked at what he'd caught. It was a silvered lighter emblazoned with the badge of the Texas Ranger Division.

"You'll have to refill it with lighter fluid," Ichigo advised.

Isshin looked up at him only to narrowly snag the next item with his other hand, his newspaper spilling onto the floor. He found himself holding a black felt cowboy hat.

Ichigo pushed his chair back and stood, stretching. He felt he could probably have done with some more sleep but that wasn't going to happen and would come back to bite him if he tried. "Yeah, well. I'm going out for a walk. Do you need anything?" he asked Yuzu. He might as well pick things up while he was out.

"Uh, Ichi-nii, don't you have to... go to work?" Karin interjected.

"I go in on Friday." He didn't feel like explaining it all right then.

"Well, if you could pick some things up that'd be great! There's a list on the counter," Yuzu replied.

Ichigo found it. "Oh," he began as he looked it over, "is Tatsuki around?" On the flight in he'd thought about hanging out with her while he could, but it'd slipped his mind until just then.

She'd started college in early April before he'd left. He knew she was staying at home while commuting to the University of Tokyo's Komaba campus, but didn't have any idea whether she'd had summer vacation plans. He was pretty sure they wouldn't know anything about what Chad might be doing.

"She was supposed to be at a beach down south for a week but should be back already. We're going to meet up on Friday," Karin stated.

Ichigo grunted both in acknowledgement and thanks, pocketing the shopping list.

Isshin finally stopped contemplating the cowboy hat and put it on. "Hey, Karin-chan, how does Daddy look?"

"Even lamer than usual," she groaned, refusing to even consider him.

Ichigo didn't stick around to take in Isshin's crestfallen expression.

Rukia squinted at the sign she spied from across the lot. Sure enough, it read 'Urahara Shop'. Her brows drew together above her dark sunglasses at the two kids sweeping in front of it. She'd never heard anything about them before.

She pushed her shades up her nose and strode across the lot toward them, halting at a conversational distance. She could see their shirts were emblazoned with the store's name.

Ururu and Jinta stopped and silently considered her. Her suit and demeanor made it clear what sort of business she was there on.

"Is the manager in?" Rukia asked.

Jinta looked from her to Ururu and back again a few times.

Rukia waited, expressionless behind glass.

Finally, Jinta turned and slid open the shop door.

Tessai stopped in his tracks, carrying a stack of boxes. "Hmph? Hey, Jinta, it's still too early for opening!"

"We had no choice! She was insistent!"

Tessai set the boxes down and considered the figure behind them with a squint, then advanced to meet her. "Kuchiki-san, is it not? Please wait just a moment, I shall go and wake the manager right away."

"That's too bad. I've already woken up," Kisuke announced. He yawned mightily and rubbed at his face. "Good morning, Tessai, Jinta, Ururu." When he withdrew his hand, he wore a wry look. "And welcome, Kuchiki-san. What can I do for you today?"

Ichigo rubbed the back of his head. This was awkward. Karin might have told Tatsuki he was coming home as soon as she'd found out, right after he'd left that morning, at any point in between, or not at all. The last possibility was the worst of all.

As he thought about it he wondered if the fact she hadn't mentioned whether she'd told Tatsuki or not was deliberate. He probably should've asked. He also should've told her himself. Karin would probably say it was his just desserts. Shit.

He blew out a breath before ringing the doorbell. He forced himself not to shuffle in the interim.

After a short while the door unlocked and opened to reveal Tatsuki. She'd changed her hair and had it styled in a wavy, chin-length layered bob. She'd also gotten a modest but notable tan and was wearing her usual sort of clothes—a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. The moment she saw him, she openly stared.

As the seconds dragged out he tried a sheepish smile. "Uh, hey."

She blinked before stepping forward and hugging him.

Ichigo was still hesitating about returning it when she socked him in the solar plexus and pushed herself back using the leverage her fist afforded her.

"Ass," she muttered, turning away from him. The last she'd heard, she might not see him for years, or ever if something happened. Finding him standing there was like seeing a ghost.

Ichigo brushed the creases out of his t-shirt. The punch had almost hurt. "I should've called," he admitted. It had definitely been deliberate on Karin's part.

She crossed her arms under her chest. "No, really?"

"You look good," he offered.

Tatsuki tilted her head fractionally and surveyed him out of the corner of her eyes. His hair was a bit shorter than it had been, particularly his sideburns and the sides in general, but it was still his quintessentially spiky cut. He had something of a tan himself and seemed stronger—still wiry, but sturdier. "You still look more like a yankii than a Yankee," she observed. "Did you wash out?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Tch... I got posted to the base here."

She rotated to study him properly. "Yokota? Over in Fussa?"

"Yeah."

She blinked and narrowed her eyes. "You almost sound disappointed."

His only response was a twinge at the corners of his mouth. He turned and rubbed the back of his neck. He was still working out how he felt about it. "So, you busy?"

Tatsuki leaned against the door frame. "I was planning on trying to meet up with Orihime and some of her friends."

"She's going to the university too, huh?" He didn't know much of anything about her situation, but she and Tatsuki had always been inseparable.

"Yeah."

Ichigo thought over what she'd said. It wasn't like he really knew better, but... "I didn't think she had many friends besides you and the other girls," he mused.

"She still doesn't, really, but I don't think you'd remember who I was talking about." Tatsuki noted. With a sigh she pushed off the door frame and walked back inside, waving him in after her. "You can wait in here while I go get dressed. It's already getting miserable out there."

He turned on a heel and followed, shutting the door behind him and slipping his shoes off in the genkan entryway.

It wasn't much later when they were situated across a table from one another on a café patio in Karakura's shopping district.

Tatsuki reclined in her chair, eating ice cream off a cone.

Ichigo finally paid attention to what she was having. "Isn't it kinda early in the day for that?"

"You're paying," she reminded him.

He drummed his fingers on the table and let out a huff. "So, have you seen Chad recently?"

She blinked and leaned forward in surprise. "You haven't told him either?"

Ichigo crossed his arms and turned his head to one side in a clear admission of guilt.

"You're the worst," she admonished, taking a bite before settling back again. "I haven't seen him since the vacation started, but he wasn't gonna go anywhere over break and I was thinking of inviting him to come along with the rest of us later."

He looked back at her. "You guys hang out?"

She made an exasperated face. "We've all got the same classes and mostly the same schedule. Since we all kind of knew each other already, it just... happened." The University of Tokyo's system of keeping freshmen and sophomores on a general education focus had ensured they wound up together—they weren't going to split up into their desired fields of study until junior year.

Ichigo grunted an ambivalent acknowledgement. "So, who else were you going to hang out with? Chizuru and them?"

Tatsuki scowled faintly at the presumption there. "You're awfully interested all of a sudden."

"Somebody keeps implying I should try harder."

"I told you that you wouldn't remember him."

"Try me," he insisted, curious at the reveal of the person in question being a he.

"Ishida Uryū," she stated.

Ichigo slowly frowned as he tried to place the name to a face, and then to place the name at all. He tilted his head to one side.

"Tch! You really are hopeless! He was the top-ranked guy in our class and the class president!"

Ichigo looked down as if to search the table for answers before shrugging and clasping his hands behind his head. He leaned back. "You're right, I don't remember him."

Tatsuki just shook her head and rolled her eyes.

They sat in familiar silence for a time before Ichigo exhaled and sat up again. He was about to keep bantering when something in the background behind her drew his gaze—someone.

Across the street from them was a woman in conservative business dress—she was short, rather imperial in bearing, and his training set off quiet alarms in his head at the way her jacket hung—ones that warned 'weapon'—but none of that was what arrested his attention. It was that she was looking directly at him—scrutinizing him.

Her eyes were the most striking shade of ultramarine. He'd never seen someone with eyes that color, and he'd encountered his fair share of shades in Texas. They were so deep and haughty, even at a distance, and something told him there was no way those were contacts—

"Ichigo," Tatsuki repeated, "Earth to Ichigo."

He blinked and refocused on her before glancing back toward the mystery woman, but she'd already turned and begun to walk off. He tracked her for a second before hesitantly returning his attention to Tatsuki.

She raised an eyebrow. "What's with you all of a sudden?"

"... Nothing," he said with a scowl. "What were you saying?"

"I said we should go see Chad and let him know you're here."

"... Yeah," Ichigo replied, looking into the distance again. The woman was nowhere to be seen. He dismissed the matter with a huff and sank back into his chair again.

[ A/N: This chapter was last edited on March 5, 2018. ]

[ Americans will have their names in Western format. Japanese will have their names in Eastern format. ]

[ The Visored are canonically Americans in this. For the sake of the reader's clarity, their names have been left as normal, although the order for their names has been rendered in Western format to indicate this. Their actual names within this setting are as follows: ]

[ • Hirako Shinji - Shaun Hirning ]
[ • Ōtoribashi Rōjūrō (Rose) - Roger "Rose" Ottaviani ]
[ • Kuna Mashiro - Margaret "Maggie" Kuna ]
[ • Aikawa Love - Daryl "Love" Acker ]
[ • Sarugaki Hiyori - Holly Saragosa ]
[ • Yadōmaru Lisa - Lisa Yaeger ]
[ • Ushōda Hachigen - Hector Usherwood ]
[ • Muguruma Kensei - Kenneth Muguerza ]

[ Transliterated foreign words are going to be italicized, as is common practice in English. ]

[ Italics will also sometimes be used for emphasis of a single word, but are usually used for thoughts. ]

[ Particular words considered in dialogue, quotes in dialogue, and dialogue that is being recalled will all be in single rather than the normal double quotes to indicate they're not being spoken aloud in the present moment. ]