South of Reality

For the UraIchi event this week. There aren't nearly enough stories with this particular trope for Bleach.

May 26: Day 7 - Writer's/Artist's Choice

He isn't sure where it starts exactly. There's a weary respect at first. Plenty of annoyance. Lies and deceit that slowly give way to trust and the knowledge that no matter how crazy things get, Urahara will always have his back. Ichigo supposes that if he had to pick a moment, it's just after his powers return. It begins as a trickle down his spine as he turns to look, even as Kugo lies dead at his feet.

There's the usual Shinigami gang – Rukia, Renji, even Byakuya and Toshiro, too! However, his eyes keep tracking, and there he is. Stupid hat and all. They just look at each other for a moment that stretches on.

It's only interrupted when Rukia runs to him and throws her arms around his waist. Renji's there a second later, practically tackling them to the ground. When Ichigo recovers enough to look again, Urahara has moved to speak with Byakuya, and Ichigo can only see the line of his face now, but he's aware of being watched.

It's a blur afterwards, and he's back at the shop, surrounded by all the friends he'd thought lost to him. All the friends who he'd thought had abandoned him. As Rukia dries her tears, she tells him everything.

The plan. The sword. More than that even.

Naturally, it's all Urahara's scheme. He'd come up with the entire thing. Had gotten everyone to go along with it. Even Yama-jii. Urahara had begged for him. Had gotten on his knees.

If there's a beginning, Ichigo supposes this is truly it. Even more so in the moment when he's finally heading home and they pause by the door. Everyone else is already gone or in bed. It's just the two of them in the early dawn light.

"It's good to have you back, Kurosaki-san," Urahara says, and for once, he's looking at Ichigo outright. No fan in sight and hat tipped back. His smile is a small thing, but it's soft at the edges.

There are a thousand things Ichigo could say here. Quips. Gratitude. Recriminations.

He grins instead. "You know, my friends call me Ichigo."

Urahara actually blinks then. His eyes are temporarily wide with surprise.

"So they do." His tone is far too pleased as he inclines his head. "Dinner is usually at seven, Ichigo. We'd be happy to have you."

Ichigo laughs. It's a light and happy sound.

"I'll see you then," he states, and it's a fact.

Grey eyes don't look away.

"Yes, you will."

-O.o.O-

The Second Quincy War happens, and there are a lot of dinners leading up to it. Even more afterwards. A lot of them unfortunately turn into strategy meetings as one enemy after another keeps popping out of the woodwork, but that seems to be how life goes.

Somewhere along the lines, Urahara becomes Kisuke. The steady presence at his side. The favored sparring partner. The hand on his shoulder during the bad moments.

Ichigo somehow manages to finishes high school in the top five – take that Ishida! He has a standing offer to join the Gotei but decides that education is more his style for now. Fighting is something he's good at, but healing is less a necessity and more a deep feeling of satisfaction. Human medicine mixed with all the kidoh Tessai-san teaches him, it just soothes his soul in a way nothing else has. It gives him focus, a new drive, footing in a world that keeps changing.

Kisuke finds it fascinating. He delights in leafing through textbooks as they litter the table while Ichigo studies. Of course, he's also taken to making off with Ichigo's tablet and forgetting to charge it when he's done. Not to mention his phone, computer, and just about every piece of technology Ichigo owns.

Like now for instance.

His computer is dead, which just makes Ichigo sigh as he shoves it in his bag. Kisuke has naturally skipped out for the morning. Off to terrorize his shop suppliers, while Tessai-san does all the real work.

"Going home?" the aforementioned man asks as he pauses in the hallway, and he honestly sounds surprised Ichigo isn't spending the night.

After all, the quest room practically has his name on it. Not to mention that most of his clothes and books have already drifted here in the last several years. His dorm-room is only truly used for convenience and a quiet place to study.

"Got a group project," Ichigo replies as he shoulders his bag, "and Ishida asked me to meet for dinner. I'll be back tomorrow evening unless something comes up."

Tessai-san gives him an unreadable look behind his glasses. He's silent for a long moment as Ichigo moves to the main room and searches for his charger. Which is mysteriously absent and undoubtedly has already suffered a terrible fate. Guess he'll just have to use the spare.

"I thought you usually sparred with tencho on Wednesday mornings," Tessai-san comments then, eyes hidden by his lenses.

Ichigo gives a half-shrug. "Raincheck, I guess. I have a feeling that Ishida will want me to spend then night to catch up, and I don't have class until ten."

Tessai-san doesn't have anything to say to that, and he only inclines his head when Ichigo gives a parting wave.

The air is already humid outside, and the flowers are blooming early this year. Ichigo coughs then. Just once. There's a prickle in the back of this throat though and the threat of more to come. That's what annoys him more than anything.

"Damn allergies," Ichigo mumbles and wipes his mouth. He slips into shunpo in the hope to avoid all the pollen.

It doesn't work.

-O.o.O-

He's still coughing over a week later. It's just a dry thing. Mostly irritating and distracting as he tries to study.

"Surprised to find you here," Yoruichi-san murmurs offhandedly from behind him. "Thought for sure you'd be at the shop."

Ichigo looks up from where he's been hunched at his desk, but he isn't shocked to see her sitting on his bed in cat-from. Cooperation with his Hollow has done wonders for his senses, hearing included. Not to mention that she tends to check up on him the times he doesn't sleep over. Of course, spending Saturday night studying isn't exactly his idea of fun, but Ichigo is nothing if not dedicated once he decides on something.

"Exams start on Monday, and the whole crew is over," he reminds her and stretches his arms over his head. He glances at the clock, but it's actually earlier than he figured. She usually doesn't come by until after dark, and that won't be for a while.

"Kisuke was hoping you'd be by for dinner," she offers as if explaining his unasked question. "He hasn't seen you much recently. Wanted to know if you'd stop by."

Ichigo snorts. "He could've just called me. Oh, wait… He walked off with my phone and never gave it back."

Yoruichi-san rolls her eyes at that. A feat with her feline face.

"You know that you can't show him anything new or shiny without consequences," she adds with her own meowing laugh.

She hops from the bed to the floor then and saunters over on silent paws. The wind rustles the trees outside the window just as she comes to a stop by his feet. Ichigo feels the tickle in seconds, but it quickly turns to a burn in this throat.

The cough is harsher than usual. Deeper, too. Like even his chest is rebelling.

Or maybe it's just a hint that he should get off his ass and take something, but that always makes him feel strange since his spirit-form never seems to have these troubles. Not to mention that taking anything always makes all his Shinigami friends bizarrely paranoid, and the last time Shinji practically knocked the bottle of antihistamines from his hand like he was some kind of junkie.

His cough ends several heartbeats after starting, but there's a lingering flutter that only eases when he sips the water bottle from his desk.

Golden eyes gleam up at him when he finishes.

"You've been doing that a lot lately," she comments, and it isn't quite an accusation. There's also more concern than expected for a simple coughing fit.

Damn, the Shinigami always get weird about stuff like this.

"Pollen counts are high already; it's an early spring this year," Ichigo replies and excuses himself to the bathroom to splash water on his face.

Yoruichi-san is on the windowsill when he returns. Her tail flicks almost lazily, but there's something not quite natural to the movement. Almost like she's trying to be too casual. That's when he notices that not only are his books and computer closed, but they're also packed away in the bag that's now in his seat.

"Time to go," she says cheerfully as he scowls at her. "Dinner's at seven, and we don't want to be late."

"Yeah, yeah." He waves but pulls his coat from the back of his chair. "I hear you."

"That's the spirit," she calls and then turns to leap out the window.

She pauses for a second as Ichigo again coughs into his hand. However, he's already moved to turn off the light. Yoruichi-san watches him, and he can feel her feline eyes burning between his shoulder blades.

At least, she's thoughtful enough to close the window on her way out though.

-O.o.O-

Tea on Thursday afternoon is a welcome break from his exams. It's unseasonably hot outside, and the cool dark of the shop is a great relief compared to the stickiness of the class he'd just escaped an hour before. Not to mention all the pollen cascading down on his head the second he'd left the building. And, yes, he completely ignores the lingering scratch in his throat that even his new tea blend can't dislodge.

"Just one more, and I'm done. Finished!" Ichigo states with something almost like cheerfulness. "Released from classroom captivity."

Kisuke chuckles and not-so-subtly pushes a full plate his direction with a single finger. Ichigo takes the hint before exchanging it for a cup. The tea is cool and suited to the weather, light with a hint of citrus. A blend that Ichigo had picked up on his trip a few weeks before. He'd immediately snagged it at the teashop down the street from Ishida's apartment. Even going inside had earned him an eyeroll, but he always stops there. It's the best place he's found for unusual blends, and it's become the secret weapon in his war to get Kisuke to stop drinking that oversteeped green sludge he calls tea.

Genius and former assassin the man may be, but he's especially deadly in the kitchen. Ichigo's pretty sure without Tessai-san and takeout, he would've long ago starved.

Not to mention it's a winning set-up. Kisuke offers the advice and critiques. Ichigo brings the tea and sarcasm. Well, and he usually makes the rice and sandwiches. After all, he wants to run the hospital. Not be a patient there.

"I told Ryuuken that I'd be coming for his job one day," Ichigo says then, tone very wicked.

"Oh?" the blond questions with a little laugh and reaches over to pour more tea. "Do tell. I imagine his reaction was beautiful."

"He threw me out of his office." Ichigo smirks. "But not before telling me to be there in exactly two weeks to start my clinicals."

That earns him a lifted eyebrow. "A little bit early, isn't it?"

Ichigo shrugs. He fiddles with his empty cup until Kisuke snatches it away to refill.

"I have a feeling he wants to put me through my paces as soon as possible," he responds and rests his chin on his hand. "I guess a nephew is just as good as a son to pass the reins to. Especially since Ishida's made it very clear he has no intention of studying medicine."

Ryuuken hasn't said as much, but Ichigo's pretty sure that's his plan. And really, he still isn't anywhere near ready to join the Gotei on a fulltime basis. Ichigo likes the Living World too much, and Soul Society is still way too backwards.

Of course, being at the hospital will also pull him back to Karakura more or less fulltime.

Which Kisuke has clearly figured out as he sips his tea too languidly. The room is a little dark, and that trademark hat shades his face. Still, Ichigo sees the pleased gleam of grey eyes drift to his face and then back to the teacup.

"Going to be moving back home, I suppose," the older man comments airily.

Yeah, no way in hell is Ichigo living under the same roof as Goat-Face ever again. He doesn't miss the early morning combat at all.

Ichigo gives him a look. "I've already found an apartment a mile from the hospital, I have you know. It's within my budget, too."

Especially since Shunsui is actually paying him for the substitute work. That included hazard pay and even more for all that shit he'd gone through from age fifteen. It's a nice nest egg that keeps him from taking out loans.

"You could stay here," Kisuke offers then; he's is far too satisfied and smug. "You're far better than our last freeloader."

Ichigo pauses, considering. It would certainly be cheaper, and with shunpo the distance doesn't even matter. He already uses garganta to get back to his university most days.

"You practically live here," the blond adds as if reading his mind. His voice is breezy and unconcerned, but there's a stiffness to his spine, and his hands curl around his cup a bit too much.

Ichigo studies him for a long moment. Everything from the ever-present hat to the fan by his left hand to handkerchief poking out of his pocket. That last one has actually become a new addition in the last three months or so, but Ichigo isn't entirely sure why since he never sees Kisuke using it. He knows better than to ask though; Kisuke will tell him eventually or it will simply disappear and never been seen again.

"I'll consider it," Ichigo finally allows but feels his phone buzz in his pocket just then. He already knows which reminder it is without even checking and curses the poor timing. His tea is downed in a single gulp, and he's actually sad to see it go as he waves off another refill. His knee brushes Kisuke's as he moves to stand.

"Going somewhere?" the older man questions. His tone is even and easy, but there's an undercurrent. A glimmer of something to his reiryoku. A shadow across his eyes that flickers for a split second and smooths out.

"Back to the dorms," Ichigo returns and rolls his head on his shoulders. "Got to be there for my exam at eight, and I need a few hours to study."

The blond waves his fan in front of his face, handkerchief in the other hand. "I'm offended that you think it's not quiet enough here for your delicate sensibilities."

Ichigo snorts before he can stop himself, and the edge of tension unravels.

"I'm sure you can live without me for another day or two," he retorts, rising to his feet.

Grey eyes follow him out.

"I'll see you then," Kisuke calls after.

Ichigo is already in the hallway, however. Shinji passes him at the entrance, and Ichigo deftly slides out from the arm aiming to drape around his shoulder. He catches a pout before he's off in a flit of shunpo, not wanting to be dragged back.

The outside air is still heavy and humid. If Ichigo coughs one too many times on the way back to his university, it only earns the blooming trees a dirty look and nothing more.

-O.o.O-

The next day is rainy and overcast, but Ichigo doesn't care in the slightest as he makes his great and final escape from the classroom. His good mood lasts all of five minutes, however, when he walks into his dorm room to find Rukia sitting in his desk chair with her hands twisted in her lap. She's wearing the most solemn expression he's seen since the Quincy War.

His heart sinks into his stomach, and he halts in the doorway.

"Who died?" Ichigo questions immediately.

Is it Byakuya? Renji? No, she's not crying, so neither of them. He'd know if anything happened to Kisuke or his sisters, and they would've called him if it's his human friends or anyone at the shop or even the Vizard. Toshiro maybe? Shunsui? Halibel?

His mind draws a blank, even as Rukia starts.

"Nobody died," she replies and seems momentarily surprised at even the suggestion.

He breathes out heavily. Ichigo walks the rest of the way inside. He slings his bag off his shoulder and drops down on his bed.

"Then, don't give me that look." He waves a dismissive hand at her. "You nearly gave me heart failure."

Rukia sighs, and her fingers clench in her lap. Ichigo feels his heart thump almost painfully at icy bite to the air.

Shit. Still not good. No deaths but perhaps a new enemy? A old enemy? Both? Zombies? Aliens? Something?

"Just spit it out," Ichigo half-demands, more anxious than he'd ever admit.

"Ichigo…"

She falters though. Her mouth purses for a second, and Rukia shakes her head. She squares her shoulders.

"Ichigo… I know."

There's a particular emphasis. It brings him up short.

"Know what?" Ichigo asks, and he's actually more confused on this one. Since really, he has no huge secrets at current time. At least, none that anyone with a lick of sense couldn't guess anyway, and it isn't a secret per se. Just something unspoken until the right moment comes along.

"I know," she repeats and gives him a look. Her voice sounds like she's trying too hard to be nice.

That more than anything raises his hackles.

Rukia is many things, but nice isn't one of them. At least not to him. They are way too far beyond that point.

"Know what?" he tries again.

"About…" She makes a vague gesture at his chest.

Whatever she means flies right over his head to land somewhere in outer space. However, the look on her face is so serious that he thinks she might strain something.

"The coughing," Rukia explains slowly, as if she's talking to a particularly dumb goldfish.

"Coughing?" he echoes over the jumbled thoughts in his head. "My allergies?"

Damn, Shinigami really are weird about this stuff. What exactly has Shinji been telling them this time?

She shakes her head a second time. "Don't deny it, Ichigo. We figured it out. You just need to tell us who it is, and we'll help you." Rukia reaches out to touch his wrist. "Nii-sama said I should be the one to break it to you, but we all support you. It doesn't have to be this way."

"Byakuya's in on this farce, too!" He all but smacks his free-hand over his face. "It was just an allergy pill! I'm not a drug addict! I don't care what Shinji says!"

He feels frost where her fingers lay on his skin.

"It's not a joke!" she declares and resembles an enraged blizzard in that moment.

Ichigo slides farther away on his bed. For his own safety if nothing else.

"I don't even know what we're talking about!"

"The coughing. The flowers," Rukia bites out, and there's a flicker of anger to her voice that's a stark contrast to the chill of her reiatsu. "The Hanahaki."

She says it like he should know what that means, and he stares at her for a full minute before telling her he doesn't. The fact that she doesn't immediately punch him is a very bad sign.

What follows is one of the most ridiculous things he has ever heard. Truly! And considering that he is a half-Shinigami, half-Quincy, half-Hollow hybrid who regularly pops out of his body to fight monsters and help the spirits of the dead crossover… well, it's really saying something.

"You're serious?" Ichigo asks for the eighth time in as many moments. His temper is fully deflated to lay somewhere near his feet. "I mean, you're really serious."

The conversation is completely derailed by this point. It's gone from an intervention to an explanation to a parody.

Rukia's left eye twitches. A sure sign she has reached the end of her already limited patience.

"Yes!" She looks like she wants nothing more than to punt him into tomorrow. "You think I'd lie about something like this."

He holds up both hands protectively. His expression says everything that Ichigo doesn't. It obviously explains better than he does, too.

"You idiot!" she shrieks a second later, and instead of hitting him, she just balls her hands into shaky fists. "You were coughing all over the place. What were we supposed to think?"

"I have allergies!" he defends staunchly. "And it only happens when I'm in my body anyway. And what the hell?! Flowers exploding out of you because you love somebody! That sounds like a bad shojo manga!" He rubs his forehead to relieve the building ache. "Geez…" he mutters more to himself, "you guys are so weird."

And really, anything strange is possible with the Shinigami. He's honestly surprised it hasn't gotten odder before this point.

If it's not twice-dead enemies popping up, it's yet another person with grudge. Or resurrected Arrancar. Or Aizen creepily just hanging out. Chair and all.

"I can't deal with this," Ichigo decides then, already standing.

"Where are you going? Rukia demands and jumps to her feet.

Ichigo dodges around her. "To speak with someone sane."

He doesn't slam the door behind him but it's a near thing.

-O.o.O-

"Kisuke!" Ichigo practically shouts as he enters the shop.

He's through the front and to the living area in an instant. His steps are assured and fast, but inside, he's buzzing. It isn't truly agitation, but the longer he stews on what Rukia told him, the more ridiculous and surreal it becomes.

Honestly! Hacking up flower petals?

He feels more than sees Kisuke in their usual spot. Ichigo's there in a shingle step of shunpo.

"You've no idea what Rukia just-"

He stops abruptly in the doorway as his brain short-circuits.

Kisuke is on his knees, hunched over with his right hand to his face. His coughs are harsh and wet. Breathtaking in the worst sort of way. His hand is bloody and full of petals along with a single perfect flower. A white Chrysanthemum tinged with red.

'Oh,' Ichigo thinks blankly.

Oh!

This… Explains a lot actually. All those meaningful looks he's been getting from everyone – Yoruichi-san, Tessai-san… fuck, even Shinji. Especially Shinji!

He's down and kneeling by the blond in an instant. Feels those wracking coughs beneath the palms of this hands as they settle on Kisuke's arms.

Kisuke pulls away a few seconds later, but he doesn't go far. Just enough to put some inches between them. The line of his back is tense and ramrod straight. His grey eyes are fixed on some distant point as he uses the handkerchief to wipe his face.

The quiet is deafening. Echoing between them as all the little moments suddenly shift in this new context. He'd seen and felt the change but hadn't known enough to connect the dots. And he knows Kisuke well enough to understand he'd never say anything unless he was absolutely sure of his welcome.

Which should be – painfully – obvious at this point.

Ichigo sighs.

His hand is lightning fast, but the flick to Kisuke's head is gentle. He rests his fingers in soft blond hair afterwards. The look Kisuke gives him is indescribable. Something like amazement tinged with hope that's very swiftly shuttered away. He doesn't move though, which Ichigo counts as a win. Especially as Ichigo shifts to gently trail down his face and trace his chin.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asks, voice soft.

Kisuke swallows. "Why didn't you?"

Fingertips stroke over stubble, and Ichigo feels him lean into the touch. The silence stretches between them, but there's a sense of anticipation.

Despite what people think and the disaster of a conversation he just had not an hour before, Ichigo has become very self-aware in the last few years. He knows that he's an adult by human standards but very young to the Shinigami. He also knows that Kisuke carries more baggage than a train car, and that even though Ichigo long ago forgave, Kisuke still hasn't forgiven himself.

"I was waiting for you to be ready," Ichigo admits then.

Kisuke stills. His eyes are very grey as they study Ichigo's face.

"I'm not nearly so naïve as everyone seems to think," the younger man says, and his hand goes over stubble again and then ghosts up to an ear. "The age difference alone is intimidating, not to mention everything else that happened. I know that you needed more time, and I can be patient when it counts."

"I'm not a delicate flower," the blond protests, but he coughs out another petal just after saying that.

"No," Ichigo acknowledges, "but you tend to internalize everything and beat yourself up for decades afterwards." His second hand rubs over Kisuke's back. "There's a difference in being wounded and being broken."

Silence again. Seconds stretching out as they look at each other.

"Did Yoruichi-san say that?" Kisuke manages after a moment.

"Tessai-san actually." Ichigo says, and it's a little too fond, "He told me to be gentle."

That earns him a snort. It's quickly followed by another coughing spell, but no more petals appear.

"I didn't want it to be this way," the blond murmurs, and his mouth is tinged with red before he wipes it away.

"You're not a hardship," Ichigo counters, and his fingers are as soft as his voice as he tips Kisuke's face up.

The kiss is tender, a bare brush of lips for just a moment. Kisuke sighs into his mouth, but he doesn't cough.

This isn't how Ichigo imagined things would happen the first time, but he'll take it.

He kisses Kisuke again but more firmly. There's an aftertaste of copper, and he half-expects a magic light to shoot out between them now that the Hanahaki is cured. Reality, isn't a let down though as Kisuke rests his forehead on Ichigo's shoulder.

They stay like that for a very long time before pulling back.

"I guess this means you're staying then," the blond says, almost for a lack of anything else.

Ichigo chuckles. Since really, this is how his life goes.

"I don't think I'll need the guestroom though."

Kisuke's laugh is beautiful and cough-free.

Ever Hopeful,

Azar