The Pendulum Swings with the Cradle

A Bleach fanfiction

Notice: This story is a what-if future scenario, written like an omake, so it may not be accurate to current events of the manga. Also, this story has trace amounts of IchiRuki. If this paring does not suit your tastes (or if you are deathly allergic to it) you read this story at your own risk. My insurance does not cover you. Furthermore, this story uses some Japanese, if only because the author likes the sound of the words/titles used in the manga's original language. If there are any errors in grammar or spelling please contact the author and proper edits will be made. Thank you for your time.

o-o-o

Ichigo Kurosaki sat at his desk glaring at the towering pile of paperwork before him. Slowly, his narrowed eyes shifted to the subordinate shingami who brought said pile.

"Is that all?" asked the orange haired man in his usual gruff manner.

"Yes, fifth division captain Kurosaki-sama, sir!" the sandy blonde haired shinigami stood straight and tense in the presence of the famous war hero.

"A simple Kurosaki-taicho will do, kid, and no need to shout."

"Yes, Kurosaki-taicho!"

Ichigo let out a small sigh as he pulled a document off the top of the pile. Right before he read the first line of text however, he noticed that the junior shinigami was still standing in front of his desk sweating bullets.

"You can leave now you know…"

"Thank you Kurosaki-taicho!"

The young shinigami, fresh from the academy, bowed and hurried for the door before he could faint in front of his superior, but before he could get one foot out the doorway he froze in mid step when he caught sight of an orange haired baby asleep in one of those mechanical cradle swings.

"Uh, K-Kurosaki-taicho…"

"Yes?" Ichigo asked without looking up from his paperwork.

"There…there is an infant in your office."

Ichigo lazily glanced up to look at the sleeping baby in the corner and then back at the confused shinigami at the door.

"Yeah… there is." Ichigo calmly signed the document he was reading before moving on to another.

The blond shinigami almost fell over at the captain's casual acknowledgement.

"I-If you don't mind me asking sir…Why?"

"Because," Ichigo said, not looking up from his papers, "if I had left her at home chances are she would have ended up in the possession of six different divisions by noon," Ichigo's reatsu began to flare up as his voice got tenser, "and then I would be the one in trouble with my wife's brother for being an 'irresponsible parent,'" The courier shinigami began to inch back towards the door, regretting his question, as his superior continued on his tirade, "when it was obviously the responsibility of the servants he gave us as a wedding present to make sure she wasn't kidnapped several times!" The air around Ichigo was pulsating with reatsu as his grip on the document he was holding tightened.

When Ichigo was finished venting his frustration on the innocent piece of paper, he noticed that the young shinigami had already left. He let out an exhausted sigh as he rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably.

"I really need to work on my temper."

Ichigo remembered being told somewhere that being a parent would mellow him out.

He let out a snort of disbelief at the idea.

But before the fifth division captain could return to the joys of paper work, he heard grunting noises coming from where his daughter was stirring from her sleep. Sure enough, the small grunts started turning into faint cries.

Ichigo let out a low grunt himself as he got up from his chair and went to go comfort the squirming child in her rocker.

"Alright, I'm here," Ichigo reassured the fussing child as he turned off the swing function on the chair.

Ichigo lifted the baby into his arms making sure to support her head as he held her close to his broad chest. He carefully placed an index finger in one of his daughter's outstretched hands and smiled as her tinny fingers wrapped around his own. Ichigo always found it funny when his daughter's scrunched up face would soften into an open mouthed and drowsy one. In fact his daughter's face was similar to some of the faces he had seen her mother make in the morning, though he would never tell Rukia that to her face.

Ichigo chuckled at the all too appropriate comparison. She was much like her mother in many ways even when barely at the age of one.

They were both demanding, they were both short tempered, and they were both dearly loved by him, although the last one Ichigo does not admit out loud as much as the other two points. Not like he would need to tell his girls how much he loved them anyways. Another trait that both mother and daughter seemed to share was the unexplainable ability to understand Ichigo without the need for an excessive exchange of words.

Others might see the abrupt (and mostly heated) conversations and the prolonged silences between husband and wife as a sign of hostility. Those who actually had a brain and a working pair of eyes, according to Ichigo at least, would be able to see how much they truly cared for each other and (in accordance with his temper) Ichigo had little patience for people who would question how much he cared for his wife.

If he heard people call him a bad husband or a poor parent -fine-, but if any one was caught running their mouth saying that did not love his wife and child with every fiber of his being he would personally make sure that mouth did not function properly afterwards. In short, he would break their faces (and perhaps every other bone in their body), even if Rukia would scold him for it later.

Ichigo's violent train of thought was broken however, due to a pungent sent emanating from the child in his arms. Despite having experienced the familiar stench many times during the past six months of child rearing, Ichigo still gagged openly whenever he was caught in the presence of the all powerful dirty diaper.

"What the heck is Rukia feeding you?!" Ichigo held his daughter at arm's length, trying to air out the smell.

Ichigo glanced at the mountain of paperwork behind him and then back at the infant in his hands. He could always force one of his subordinates to change her for him.

"Paperwork or poop," Ichigo thought to himself, weighing out all of his options. But as his daughter began to squirm and cry again he knew then what he had to do.

With enough resolve to execute a hundred Mugetsus, Ichigo marched to his desk, baby in hand, and withdrew Zangetsu from its wrappings. With one sweep of his arm, he used the blade's side to push the pile of documents off his desk into a heap on the floor.

The baby laughed and clapped her hands at the sight of the mess her daddy made. She had just learned the Kurosaki method of disposing unwanted paperwork.

Ichigo laid his daughter carefully on the cleared wooden surface and reached for the rucksack of fresh diapers and other baby things that sat at his desks side. The paperwork could wait. Ichigo had a more pressing matter that required his full attention: taking care of his kid.

While Ichigo reached into the diaper bag hiding in the hallway, watching the hero and father work diligently in secret, was the blond haired shinigami from earlier looking on with moved tears in his eyes.

"Such dedication," the young shinigami whispered in awe from his hiding place behind the hallway door as the respected captain of the fifth division struggled to get the squirming and giggling child clean.

o-o-o

(A/N)

Now for some story back-story: This little number has been sitting in my computer for a while now (since last year's Father's Day if I recall correctly) and considering Bleach is perhaps the single anime/manga I will ever follow so closely (I'm that one guest who watches the forums get riled up for every chapter release 0v0) I figured, "Hey why not post it?"

Being an aunt three-times over now I have seen how adorable dads and their newborns can be, I couldn't help but imagine Ichigo being the proud papa one day, silly fan girl that I am. Ichigo's own father's super exaggerated sentimentality has to rub off even a little bit, right?

Anyways, thanks for reading!