Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ichigo wakes up with a snap, going from fitfully asleep to sharp and alert between one second and the next.

The pain comes, as it always does these days, in a sharp wave right after that.

Breath hissing out from between his teeth, Ichigo forces himself to ignore it all and to just get up.

Rolling off of his bed Ichigo catches himself on his hands before he face plants on the floor, palms slapping against the cool hardwood as he transitions smoothly into the first of many push-ups.

He’s found, over the past few months, that physical activity is the best way to push through the nightmares that haunt his sleep and the pain that always slams back down on him when he wakes up.

It doesn’t let him forget the memories that eat at him when he closes his eyes or the way his body hurts.

It doesn’t let him forget the soul deep ache of all the things he’s done and all the things that have happened to him.

Doesn’t let him forget the way he’d fought and bled and died only to get back up and do it all over again.

It doesn’t let him forget how he’d ripped himself apart at the very seams.

It doesn’t let Ichigo forget any of that but it does help him ignore most of it for at least a little while.

Lets him have small, blissfully numb bits of time.

Snatches of almost peaceful nothingness that he uses like way-points to keep pressing forwards.

And, by this point, Ichigo is willing to take what he can get.

Especially since it seems to be all he really has these days.

Ichigo shakes the thoughts off with a grimace and focuses back on his push ups instead.

No sense wasting his time thinking about things he can’t fix at the moment.

Even if time seems to be the main thing he has enough of these days.

~~~

A quick hundred plus push ups, a short shower, and two pieces of honey toast eaten mechanically over the sink in the silent kitchen later, Ichigo grabs his bag and heads out for school.

The walk, like the majority of Ichigo’s life, is silent and empty these days.

There’s no one meeting him at the intersection or calling his name out from down the street.  There’s no warm, steady presence at his side or at his back. No laughter or haughty scoffing or good-natured teasing.

Even more telling somehow is the fact that there are no spirits lurking around corners or at lampposts.  There’s no feeling of something other lingering at the edges of his senses like a whisper.

It’s just another thing Ichigo’s slowly began to become accustomed to.

But, despite everything and everyone else he’s lost in the process, his newfound lack of spiritual awareness is one of the things that hurts the most.

Ichigo had never really realized how much of himself was tied up in his extrasensory abilities until the day he lost the ability to see.

Until the day an entire portion of his daily world was carved out of him alongside what feels like the majority of his soul.

Once, even back before Shinigami and Hollows, before would-be gods and Arrancar, Ichigo’s world had been spirits of all ages and sizes and manner of death.

Nowadays Ichigo’s day to day life is just …

Shades of gray.

~~~

Classes pass in a hazy sort of daze for Ichigo.

Surrounded by his classmates and hyper aware of just how hard his former friends are working at ignoring him, Ichigo feels adrift.

Like a ship stranded in the midst of a turbulent sea.

Like a lonely star in an already empty sky.

Like a paper lantern pushed free from the shore with no way back, candle flickering in the breeze and water creeping up the sides.

Ichigo’s life has never been so peaceful and his grades have never been higher, his new free time heralding a new massive jump in class rank.

Ichigo has never been lonelier.

Sometimes Ichigo thinks that it might be only a matter of time before his flame flickers all the way out, before he crashes on the rocks, before the water finally pours in over the sides.

Ichigo doesn’t regret what he did to end the fighting, doesn’t regret it even for a second.

It was worth every single bit of pain and anguish that came before, during, or after.

It was worth every single price he’s had to pay.

So he doesn’t regret it.

But, most days now, Ichigo can’t help but regret the fact that the fighting was all that ended.

Most days Ichigo can’t help but wonder if, maybe just maybe, it would have been better if he had too.

If when Mugetsu ripped through him and then out, when a part of him had been torn away from the whole and the black had closed in around the edges, he’d just … stayed asleep.

If, maybe, he should have just drifted off right there on the blood soaked sands and then just ... never woken up.

A First Protector finally laid to rest, job done, story over.

Ichigo has never been one to give up but a part of him thinks that maybe, just maybe, that would have been a better ending.

Would have been a better fate than this lonely sort of stagnation he’s stuck in now.

Maybe.

~~~

After school Ichigo’s feet lead him to where they so often do these days.

The riverbank.

Bag slung over his shoulder and free hand stuffed deep into his pocket, Ichigo just stares out over the water.

This was the place where so much of his life had changed.  This is where Ichigo’s biggest failure, as a protector, as a son, and as a brother, had taken place.

And maybe that’s why, powerless and numb and no longer whole, he keeps coming back here now, day after day.

A part of him can’t help but wonder if Grand Fisher is still out there somewhere, still luring in women and children.  Still destroying lives.

A part of him wonders if there’s a chance that, if he keeps coming back here, then maybe one day it will too.

A part of him wonders if he'd even care.

Ichigo stands there, eyes on the sky, for the longest time.

No one comes.

~~~

It’s dark, the streets are beginning to fill up with what passes for the night life of Karakura Town, when Ichigo finally leaves for home.

He’s in no big hurry, he’d done most of his homework at school, the rest by the riverbank, and he’s more than aware of what he’ll be going back to, of what’s waiting for him back at the house.

A Yuzu who’ll stay in the kitchen fretting over whatever new recipe she’s experimenting with.  Who’ll flutter around the edges of everything, hands tangled in her apron and teeth chewing anxiously on her lower lip just like their mom used to do when she was anxious, unsure and unhappy in a way Ichigo hasn’t been able to fix this time.

A Karin who’ll run in just before curfew, hair a mess and resolutely avoiding his eyes like Ichigo doesn’t know what she’s been up to.  Like Ichigo didn’t practically raise her and Yuzu both. Like there’s not enough of who, and what, Ichigo had once been still left inside of him that he can’t smell the familiar green tea and sandalwood scent, something he’s always associated with only one man, lingering around her from time to time.

And, last and least like he’s been in so many other areas of Ichigo’s life, there will be Isshin.  Isshin who’ll pretend like nothing has changed at all. Isshin who will be content to switch between dramatically wailing at Masaki’s portrait and lashing out at Ichigo under the guise of training.

So, really, all of that added to the fact that Ichigo only really eats these days out of habit and the knowledge that he has to?

Well there’s not much incentive for Ichigo to get home quickly.

So he doesn’t.

Instead, bag still slung over his shoulder, Ichigo ambles through town, taking a long, winding path back towards the clinic’s direction.

He rounds the corner and passes by a group of guys, all probably a few years older than him.  Ichigo ignores them, moving past where they’re huddled together, some of them leaning up against a wall and others smoking.

He’s a few feet away when he hears it, the same kind of bullshit he’s heard for the majority of his life.

“Oi, Nono,” a slightly high pitched voice calls out, “look at that fuckin' hair.”

“That bleach job’s almost as bad as yours Kawachi,” a raspier voice, obviously the now named Nono, replies.

“Fuck you,” Kawachi jabs back.

“Not with your ma’s dick,” Nono crows before Ichigo hears the scrambling of footsteps behind him.  “Hey carrot top, slow down, we wanna ask you a question.”  

Ichigo, more than a bit unimpressed, keeps walking.

The footsteps get louder, faster, and Ichigo’s unsurprised when someone darts forward and then in front of him.

“I said,” Nono grins at Ichigo, black hair slicked back and loud print shirt unbuttoned to half way down his chest, “we wanna ask you a question.”

“No interested,” Ichigo tells him flatly as he steps to the side, ready to walk around him and directly out of this situation.

“Now you’re being rude,” Nono tells him, eyes narrowed as he moves to block Ichigo’s movement.

“Hey,” someone else speaks up behind Ichigo then, “I know this guy.”

“Oh?” Nono cuts a look in the speaker's direction. “You friends with the carrot top here, Shirai?”

“Hell no,” Shirai moves up and into Ichigo’s line of sight as he answers.  He’s shorter than Nono and Ichigo in turn but wider at the shoulders, black hair buzzed close to his skull.  “That’s Kurosaki, he’s the one who beat the shit out of Udo and his boys a while back.”

The small crowd that’s moved to surround Ichigo, six guys strong as far as he can tell, begins to mutter harshly.

“Bullshit,” Nono barks out with a disbelieving laugh.  “Baby face here? No way in hell he’s the one who beat Udo so bad he took his whole group and left Karakura.”

Ichigo’s pretty sure he remembers what they’re talking about.  He’d beat down a group of thugs that routinely tried to harass him with Chad’s help a handful of months before Rukia had stepped into his life.

Ichigo had been used to ignoring them but that day they’d been harassing Chiyo-baachan’s little bakery.  The shop was the same one that Yuzu still loves so much even now and Chiyo-baachan, a cheerful older woman with strong hands, used to give Ichigo discounts on treats for the girls.

Ichigo hadn’t been able to stand around and just watch her be shaken down for her hard earned money.

It had been one of the more vicious fights Ichigo had been in before the Shinigami had crashed into his life and at least one of those guys had been dragged away with an obviously broken leg.

Ichigo hadn’t seen any of them again after that.

But Chiyo-baachan still gives Ichigo even more free stuff whenever he wanders by the shop so it's a win in his opinion.

“You know,” Nono says then, something almost contemplative in his voice, “Udo was a friend of mine.”

“Look,” Ichigo speaks up again even as he instinctively shifts his weight, “just get out of my way and leave me alone.  I’m not looking for a fight tonight.”

“Doesn’t mean a fight ain’t found you,” Nono’s answering grin is mean, sharp around the edges.  When he brings a hand up Ichigo is unsurprised to see the balisong he’s twirling between his fingers.

“This isn’t going to go the way you think it is,” Ichigo warns him seriously.

“There’s six of us,” Nono reminds him almost playfully as he shifts on his feet, “Pretty sure I know how it’s gonna go.”

Behind and around him, Ichigo feels it when the others shift as well.

“Well,” Ichigo says as he tightens his grip on his school bag, not bothering to take his other hand out of his pocket, “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

~~~

A few minutes later Ichigo twirls his new balisong across his fingers and takes a moment to nod his head at the woman in the goggles and the white and purple shirt that’s been watching him from across the street.

She looks like she wants to say something but Ichigo doesn’t bother to stick around.  They’d attacked him first and they’ll be down for a good while longer so they won’t be bothering anyone else for the rest of the evening.

Whatever else she might want from him Ichigo’s honestly not interested.

But, despite everything, Ichigo’s steps are just a little bit lighter as he heads the rest of the way home.

~~~

That night he actually gets more than an hour of unbroken sleep at a time.

And when he wakes up the next morning he does double his normal amount of push ups with ease.

That afternoon, after another long and tedious day at school, Ichigo only spends an hour or so at the riverbank.

Instead he roams around Karakura Town, avoiding the Shōten’s neighborhood with ease.

He feels as if he’s looking for something.

Something familiar that he still can’t quite seem to name.

~~~

The next day Ichigo steps in between a woman on the street and a weasel looking guy with no respect for her personal space.

Or her vehement no.

The woman thanks Ichigo profusely.

The guy’s too busy bleeding and sobbing about his now missing teeth.

Ichigo wanders off back towards the clinic.

That evening he takes the time to brew a pot of what used to be his favorite tea instead of getting water from the faucet or juice from the fridge.

For the first time in months Ichigo almost enjoys something that he used to love again.

~~~

“You know,” Ichigo says lightly as he prods Kawachi over onto his back and reaches out to pluck yet another knife up off of the ground and another wallet out of a pants pocket, “I’m running out of room to put these things.”

The knife goes in his school bag with the other three he’s collected so far today before Ichigo takes a single bill out of the wallet and then tosses it back down onto Kawachi’s groaning chest.

He’s not looking to rob any of them blind but he’s learned over the past few weeks that a beat down isn’t going to be enough to stop these idiots from messing with him.

Losing yet another knife and a little bit of money though should either piss them off even worse or eventually show them that more than just their pride and the remaining integrity of their limbs is on the line if they don’t leave him alone.

He’s been pretty gentle with them so far after all, more than aware that they’re not even batting in the same league.  Hell after the war, and really everything that had come before it too, Ichigo isn’t even playing the same game as they are.

Kicking their asses might keep him entertained for a few minutes every other day or so, and get him paid at least a little bit, but going all out on them, powers or no powers, would be painting with a shade of cruelty that Ichigo’s never really been inclined towards.

So yeah he’s been careful not to do too much in the way of lasting damage to any of them.  He hasn’t even broken anything more vital than a few fingers and a nose or three. Well except for Shirai’s wrist but that had been more reflex than intent.  Plus Ichigo had splinted it while Shirai was unconscious so he figures that should even things out a bit.

Either way Ichigo’s kicked their asses enough this month that he’s considering the ever growing collection of knives and the extra padding to his personal funds a surcharge of sorts by this point.

“Hopefully I won’t see you tomorrow,” Ichigo finally says as he straightens up, dusts some imaginary lint from his shirt, and then turns on his heel and walks away.

Behind him, laid out on the ground once again, Nono and his boys just groan.

Unseen by anyone, Ichigo can’t help but smile just a bit.

He’s pretty sure he’ll see them again tomorrow.

They don’t seem to know when to stop.

Idiots. 

~~~

Later, alone in his room, Ichigo tosses the new knives into the shoe box with the others and then slides it back underneath his bed.  Then he puts the day’s cash haul in the hollowed out dictionary he’d made years ago.

He’s honestly not sure where Nono and his idiots keep getting all of these blades or how they can afford to keep replacing them every other day or so.

But it’s also not really his problem and, regardless, he’s got to admit that he’s got a pretty impressive collection going on now.

Collapsing back onto his bed, Ichigo folds his arms behind his head and just stares at the ceiling.

The past month has been, not good exactly, but … better somehow.

He feels more alert, more alive, more connected than he’s felt since he woke up after the final fight against Aizen.

Ichigo still hurts, that ache deep inside of him hasn’t changed at all, it’s still soul deep and it still gnaws at his nerve endings like a new kind of Encroachment.

But it’s also been just a bit easier to manage for some reason.

Ichigo thinks it might be all of the fighting he’s been doing recently.

It might not actually take any effort from him and his morning workouts might actually get his heart rate up higher than these little bouts but he doesn’t think that matters.

He’s pretty sure it’s the idea of it all and not how much he physically exerts himself that’s making the difference in this occasion.

He’d been drifting, lonely and isolated with nothing really touching him, before Nono and his little pack of idiots had started harassing him a couple of times a week.

But that first confrontation with them had almost woken something inside of Ichigo up again.

Just a little bit.

It had made the gray fade from the edges of his mind just a tad, had even prompted him to step into the middle of a few less than pleasant situations around town just like he used to on a regular basis.

A small slice of what had once been his own version of normal returned to him.

It isn’t much in the long run but, as Ichigo knows all too well, even a small improvement is better than nothing.

It’s enough to make him feel almost fond of the band of idiots.

Almost.

~~~

Saturday comes and Ichigo wakes with an itch beneath his skin that goes beyond his regular hurts.

He does his workout, doesn’t bother with food, and heads out to school, shoulders tense and eyes watchful.

There’s something in the air today that’s putting him on edge, an instinct honed long before Shinigami became a reality to him flaring in the back of his mind.

Classes pass in a haze and Ichigo makes it out of the building in half the time he normally takes because he feels like something is wrong.

His first stop is Karin and Yuzu’s school, but all Ichigo has to do is pause for a moment outside the gate before he sees both of them already on the way towards their regular clubs.

They don’t see him before he slips away again but that’s more than fine with Ichigo.

His feet take him back into town and, before Ichigo can stop himself, he realizes he’s moving in the direction of the Shōten.

Ichigo bites back a grimace but keeps moving anyways.

Just because h- they don’t want Ichigo around anymore doesn’t mean he’s going to ignore his long earned and refined instincts.

He’s halfway to the Shōten when he hears it.

A bitten off yell followed by loud cursing and pained grunting.

Ichigo’s swerving and moving in that direction without a second thought.

The closer he gets the more he can hear, including the familiar sound of fists hitting flesh.

A fight.

And, from what he can hear, a brutal one.

Ichigo rounds the corner at a run and that’s when he sees it.

It’s a fight alright, a group of fifteen or so packed into the close confines of the alley and attacking each other with a raw and brutal sort of violence.

But what really sticks with Ichigo is that this isn’t just any street fight.

Because of those fifteen guys seemingly determined to destroy each other, Ichigo knows six of them.

Kawachi’s sprawled out on the ground of the alley, obviously unconscious.  Standing protectively in front of him, balled fists raised high despite the way he’s wavering on his feet and bleeding from the head, is Shirai.

Toyokuni, normally so quiet, is letting out a low stream of curses as he kicks out at two guys at once.  Beside him, teeth bared in a snarl, is Morri who seems determined not to let anyone past him and near Siagyo, the smallest and youngest of their group.

And there, off to the side and facing off against three guys at once, is Nono.

They’re all some degree of beat up and bloody while the other nine guys look fine besides a few cuts and already forming bruises.

For a split second Ichigo’s tempted to walk away, to leave them to whatever new bullshit they’ve managed to get tangled up in.

They are, after all, not his responsibility.

But then a glint catches Ichigo’s attention and he’s moving without a thought.

His bag goes flying, knocking the knife that was headed for Nono’s unprotected back away.

The thug who’d been holding it curses and goes to turn, but Ichigo is there before he finishes the movement.

Ichigo’s hands snap out, there’s a loud, splintering sort of crack, and the thug drops, wailing, as he clutches at his freshly shattered arm.

The sleeve of his shiny dress shirt is already growing dark with blood.

Ichigo has no interest in going too easy on him after all.

“Kurosaki,” Nono murmurs, face bloody and eyes wide.

Ichigo doesn’t bother to say anything to him.

“I’m gonna give you one chance to get out of here,” Ichigo warns them, voice low and even, heart beating a steady and calm rhythm in his chest.

He feels like he can breathe again.

“You’re gonna fuckin' regret that,” one of the thugs snarl, a knife flashing in his hand too.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Ichigo shrugs.

The thug scoffs, seven of his friends laugh even as the eighth continues to whimper over his destroyed arm.

Ichigo smiles.

~~~

“You’re a bunch of idiots,” Ichigo tells Nono dryly even as he crouches down beside Shirai to get a better look at the still sluggishly bleeding cut on his head.  “You’d think me kicking your asses on the regular would teach you a lesson about being outclassed in a fight.”

The cut’s long but not too deep.  It won’t need stitches but Shirai and Kawachi both probably have a concussion.

And all of them are going to need bandages and the like Ichigo realizes as he straightens up with a slightly irritated sigh.  He also knows none of them will go to an actual hospital or clinic.

“Here,” Ichigo shoves about half of the money he’d taken off the other thugs into Siagyo’s limp hand.  He seems a bit shaken but he’s in the best shape of all of them. “Go get some first aid supplies, make sure everyone gets home and cleans up.

Siagyo just blinks at him again, expression almost dazed.

“Get to it,” Ichigo orders roughly.

To his surprise Siagyo blinks, shakes his head sharply, and then turns on his heel and sprints out of the alley.

“Well,” Ichigo says as he watches Siagyo turn the corner and disappear from view, “none of you are dying and he’ll be back before too long so I’m going home.  Try not to do anything stupid for a few days alright? Otherwise I’ll have to kick all of your asses even harder than usual.”

Ichigo picks up his bag, tosses a wave in the direction of Nono who’s still staring at him like he’s never seen him before, and then heads out of the alley.

That was an interesting ten minutes although still not much of a challenge.

He’s pretty sure those other guys won’t be a problem again though.  He’d given them a warning and then a demand. And then he’d been nice enough to make sure to leave them with enough intact limbs between them to get everyone out of the alley and then out of Karakura Town before sunset.

Maybe.

Either way, it doesn’t really matter.  If they know what’s good for them they’ll do what he said and get out of Karakura.

Because if he runs into them making trouble again Ichigo already knows he won’t be as nice as he was this time.

But that’s an issue for the future.

For now Ichigo just wants to get home.

He’s got more knives and money to add to his stash after all.

~~~

Monday comes and Ichigo can’t decide if he’s surprised or not to see Nono and the others clustered together across the street from his school once classes let out for the day.

But, for some reason, none of them say anything.

There are no taunts, no calls, no attempts to attack like there normally are.

After a long moment spent locked in some half-assed staring contest with no end in sight, Ichigo shrugs and turns to head towards the riverbank.

Behind him he hears it when the whispers break out.

~~~

The same thing happens the next day.

And then the next.

And the next.

And then, finally, on Friday everything changes.

This time, after their now customary staring contest outside the school, the entire group follows Ichigo to the riverbank instead of staying behind.

Standing there on the riverbanks, bag abandoned on the grass behind him and hands shoved into his pockets, Ichigo just waits.

He never attacks first in these encounters and he has absolutely no desire to change that now.  Especially not here.

For a long moment a thick sort of silence settles in the air around him and the group across from him.

And then Nono steps forward until he’s standing a few feet in front of the others.

“Kurosaki,” Nono’s voice is, to Ichigo’s confusion and slight surprise, almost respectful .  “You’re strong.  Stronger than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

Ichigo doesn’t say anything because he can’t exactly argue that.  He’s pretty sure no one Nono’s ever met has been through half of the shit Ichigo’s experienced since he was fifteen.  And, well, he's always been a bit of a freak.

“Karakura Town is up for grabs,” Nono keeps going.  “We thought we could take it, make it ours. But we know better now.”

Ichigo nods along slowly.  A part of him is glad that they’re rethinking things even as the rest of him wonders if this is supposed to be a goodbye of some sort.

He’ll never admit it but a part of him really hopes it’s not.

They're the closest thing he has to real social interaction and entertainment these days.

Plus, willing to admit it or not, Ichigo is tired of goodbyes of all kinds.

“So I, we, thought about things or a while,” Nono continues, “and we all agree.”

The others move forwards then until they’re just a step or so behind Nono.

And then, as one, they all bow deeply in Ichigo’s direction.

“Please,” Nono entreats, face still pointed towards the ground, “we can’t do this without your help, Kurosaki. Be our Boss!”

“Kurosaki-oyabun!” The others call out sharply.

Stunned, all Ichigo can do is blink just a bit in shock.

“Well,” Ichigo says when he finally manages to gather his wits together enough to speak, "I can honestly say I didn't see that one coming.”

Chapter Text

For a long moment no one says anything.

The riverbank is quiet, only the soft sounds of the river and the distant background hum of Karakura itself breaking through the silence.

Ichigo just keeps staring at the line of bowed heads in front of him, his brain still having a bit of a hard time processing what he’s just been asked.

“Huh,” Ichigo decides to break the silence again since, apparently, no one else is going to speak up, “guess I did more damage than I thought I did.”

Ichigo bends down to pick up his bag, slings it over his shoulder, and then turns on his heel and walks away.

“You idiots go get some rest,” he calls back over his shoulder.  “And stop picking fights.  The head trauma’s obviously getting to all of you.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the sound of harsh whispering and feet scrambling across the grass behind him.

Before Ichigo gets more than a handful of steps away Nono and his gaggle of idiots are in front of him.

But this time, instead of low bows, they take it a step further.

“Please Kurosaki,” Nono practically wails, hands up in a pleading gesture and forehead pressed against the grass so hard Ichigo’s pretty sure he’s gonna have grass stains on his face.  “We’re serious!  Be our Boss!”

“Kurosaki-oyabun! ” The others echo again, all of their hands up and their faces pressed into the dirt as well.

“Stop that,” Ichigo grunts, one hand flexing around the handle of his bag and the other fisting in his pocket.  “Look, sit up, all of you.  If you’re really gonna try and keep selling me this dumbass line then at least actually look at me instead of digging for worms with your noses.”

Having so many full dogeza turned in his direction makes Ichigo want to crawl out of his skin just a little bit.  All he’s really done is beat these guys up a few times over the past couple of months and then stop them from getting curb stomped or knifed once.

Plus if he’s taking his new knife collection and padded cash stash into account he’d basically been paid to do all of that anyways.

Ichigo’s cut down would be gods and tyrants in the past and received less outright groveling than this in thanks.  Not to mention considerably less in the way of actual financial and blade related compensation.

So this entire situation he’s somehow managed to land himself in?

It’s just really fucking weird.

Which, again, coming from him actually means something.

Nono finally sits up some, still on his knees but no longer doing his best imitation of an ostrich.  The others quickly follow suit and Ichigo is almost absently amused to see that there’s smears of dirt on all of their faces.

Especially Siagyo.

Which isn’t really that much of a surprise.  Ichigo had basically immediately had him pegged as the baby of the group not only in age and stature but overall personality as well.  He might be older than Ichigo but he gives off little brother vibes so strong Ichigo’s been biting back the instinctive urge to ruffle his hair like he used to do to Karin for weeks now.

Which has been a bit awkward since Ichigo’s spent the past few weeks kicking the collective shit out of Siagyo along with the rest of these idiots.

“Finally,” Ichigo sighs just a bit as he rocks back on his heels.  “Now, if this isn’t somehow the head trauma speaking, then that just means I really have no actual idea what you all want from me.  Because you idiots just showing up out of the blue to scream about how you want me to be your Boss doesn’t actually explain much.”

Because the idea that their obviously deliberate use of the word oyabu had sparked in his head absolutely cannot be what they’re talking about.

It can’t be.

Except, apparently, it is.

“You drove Udo and his entire gang out of town and Karakura Town’s been up for grabs since then,” Nono tells him earnestly, the mean little half smirk he normally wears completely gone.  It makes him look younger somehow, softer.  “No one gang has been able to keep a hold of it since then.  There’s too much fighting, too many different groups all scratching at each other.  And the larger Clans with the numbers to make a difference don’t come here.”

Ichigo knows he’s right.  There’s been a massive uptick in gang activity over the past few years, which is now apparently at least partially his fault.  But despite the small time Yakuza thugs Ichigo’s had to deal with on and off there’s never actually been a large Clan presence in Karakura as far as Ichigo knows.  Which is more than a bit strange all things considered.

Karakura’s a good sized town in a good location.  There’s a lot of resources in a relatively contained area and a wide range of people of different classes.  All of that should have made it prime real estate for the larger Clans that move in Tokyo and beyond to try and snap up.

The fact that it’s always been low level minions, mainly small time muscle from small time fledgling families and wanna be gangs, that Ichigo’s seen lurking around instead of anyone more official seems like a red flag somehow now that he’s thinking about it.

And while Ichigo admits that he’s been kicking gangster ass for years now he’s pretty sure he would have remembered kicking someone from an actual legitimate Clan of standing’s teeth in.

Probably.

Ichigo’s inclined to blame the Shinigami somehow.  If his own personal history has taught Ichigo anything so far it’s that if something unexpected comes back around to cause him problems then it probably roots back to them somehow in the end anyways.

“We’re not strong enough to run shit around here,” Nono’s voice draws Ichigo back out of his thoughts.  “We know that.  But you?  You could hold the town, Kurosaki.  You could make Karakura Town yours.  We know you could.  We’re asking you to.”

And there it is.  The truth and direction of this entire exchange that Ichigo's been almost forcefully refusing to accept.

“Why in the hell would I want any of that?” Ichigo asks sharply.  “Sounds like I’d just be borrowing trouble if you ask me.  What’s in it for me besides a headache?”

There’s a moment of silence as a few of the others exchange looks.  One foot tapping just a bit on the grass, Ichigo waits.

“You got sisters right?”  Toyokuni is the one to speak up much to Ichigo’s surprise.  Tall and wiry with a lip piercing and sorrowful looking eyes, he’s normally the quietest of the entire group.

He reminds Ichigo so much of Chad that sometimes it’s hard to look at him.  Other times it just makes some small, black tongued part of Ichigo want to hit him harder.

“You’re gonna want to be real careful about what you say next,” Ichigo warns him quietly.  Because, distance or not, Yuzu and Karin are still his baby sisters.  Are still the girls he’d practically raised on his own.  Still his in a way that will never fade.

Tokoyuni just dips his head in a quiet sort of acknowledgement before he continues.

“You’d be making things safer for them,” he says quietly, simply, dark eyes holding Ichigo’s like he just knows, somehow, how much something like that will mean to Ichigo.

“We’d help you.”  Nono cuts in then.  “With anything, everything.  We’d be good at it too.  Or we’d learn to be.  And, and we’d be loyal to you.  Dependable.  So just give us a chance to prove it’d be worth it.  Please.”

“Please, Kurosaki-oyabun! ” the others echo again.

Ichigo’s seriously not sure how they keep managing to do that so smoothly.  He wonders almost absently if they practiced the routine before they hunted him down for this.  Or maybe it’s just a natural sense of timing that comes from all of them obviously sharing one anemic brain cell between them.

It doesn’t matter either way though because Ichigo’s going to say no.  He’s going to tell these idiots to get lost and then he’s either never going to see them again or he’s going to go back to kicking their asses on a semi-regular basis.

He’s absolutely not going to entertain even the thought of taking them up on what they’re proposing.

Ichigo’s got absolutely zero interest in becoming some gang leader or new blooded Yakuza boss or whatever it is they’ve got in mind.

Hand flexing around the strap of his bag, Ichigo opens his mouth to tell them exactly that.

But then he pauses and, after a few seconds, closes it again.

Because as much as he hates it, Ichigo finds that he can’t outright say no to them again.

Not when they’re staring up at him so seriously, such earnest desperation lurking in their faces.

Not when they’re looking at him like he’s the answer to all of their prayers, like he’s the only one who can help them.

The last time people had looked at Ichigo like that, like he mattered, like he was important, like he was necessary, had been …

Well.

It’s been a while since anyone has really bothered to look at Ichigo at all.

“Let me think about it,” Ichigo finally sighs as he steps around Nono’s still kneeling form and heads in the direction that will, eventually, take him home.

Damn it all.

~~~

One hand tucked behind his head and the other idly twisting one of the balisongs he’d recently acquired around, Ichigo stares up at his bedroom ceiling.

Unlike the numb sort of blankness that’s been his life for months now, his thoughts are currently racing.  Tumbling around and over each other like a pebble caught in a rushing river.

A part of Ichigo can’t believe he hadn’t told Nono and the other idiots to go fuck themselves as soon as they opened their mouths.  Can’t believe that he’d bothered to humor them for as long as he had.

But the other part?

The part that’s actively giving Ichigo trouble at the moment?

That part of him is actually giving their crazy suggestion some serious consideration. 

Ichigo has intimate experience with being at war with himself and wanting to kick his own ass but this is kind of ridiculous in his opinion.

And since this time it’s just him and his normal baseline self in his head and his soul, Ichigo can’t even blame feeling conflicted on anyone else.

Because he’s alone now in all of the ways that really matter.

Ichigo shakes that line of thought off sharply.

Those kinds of thoughts only serve to make everything worse.  They only make the yawning sort of agony that lives inside of him now cut even deeper.

But Ichigo can’t deny, no matter how much he wants to, that those idiots have succeeded in planting this ridiculously stupid idea directly into his mind now.

Him, Kurosaki Ichigo, the mixed soul, spiritual mutt, the hybrid that’s outlived his use, some kind of Yakuza boss knockoff.

Ichigo twirls the balisong between and over his fingers, eyes focusing on the flashes of light that glint off the blade as it moves.  He does his best to ignore the way his palms itch and ache to hold a hilt that’s long been lost to him.

Kurosaki-oyabun.

Ridiculous.

~~~

A day passes and then another.

Ichigo sees Nono and the others from a distance, all of them staring in his direction with outright hopeful casts to their faces.

They don’t approach him again though, seemingly content to keep their distance like they had been the week before.  But, space to think of not, Ichigo couldn’t miss the way they all perk up and practically wag their tails when they see him even if he tried.

And yet, no matter how much Ichigo tries to cut it out, the idea just won’t leave Ichigo alone.

He thinks about it in the shower at night before bed and he thinks about it when he’s standing in the kitchen in the morning eating toast he barely even tastes.

It invades his thoughts during classes, chases him to the riverbank in the evening, and then outright haunts him like a hollow when he’s in his room at night, staring at the ceiling and twirling a balisong around as he’s taken to doing.

He can’t get it out of his mind. Can’t cut it out or squash it down.

Not with the way Tokoyuni’s words keep echoing around in his head.

‘You have sisters don’t you?’ Tokoyuni’s voice always seems to be whispering in Ichigo’s ear.  ‘You’d be making things safer for them.’

And out of everything that was said that one statement was, Ichigo is forced to admit, the best argument any of them could have made.

So much of his life has been dedicated to that simple ideal.

Protecting.

Even before Rukia had barreled into his life Ichigo has always been about protecting those precious to him.  It's the ideal that had driven him to both his highest and lowest points over the years.

He’d failed with his mom and had never been able to forgiven himself for it.  And then, years later, he’d been driven to give literal pieces of himself away against Aizen.

And now, bits of him carved out and a hollowness where his powers used to be, Ichigo is helpless to protect the twins or anyone else from any non-human threat that might come to call.

So all that leaves him with is basically what he’d had before his Shinigami powers had been forcefully activated.  For the most part.

The truth is that he's stronger and far more skilled than he'd been back then but in some ways it's balanced out by the fact that there's an entire sense he used to depend on missing.  And in its place there's only a gaping maw of hurt festering in his center.

Not that that's enough to actually stop him of course.

No, Ichigo might not be able to fight hollows anymore, might not be able to see and communicate with spirits or Shinigami either, but that doesn’t make Ichigo useless.

No matter what anyone else says or believes.

He still has his fists, still has his fighting skills and his unwavering determination.

And those are all tools, weapons, he can use to his advantage for the right cause.

Ichigo flips the balisong closed in his hand and brings the knife down to tap against his lower lip.

It seems like Tokoyuni was right after all, he admits to himself with a huffed out little laugh.  Looks like he really did find the right pressure point for Ichigo.

Because it looks like he’s actually going to do this.

If Ichigo can’t keep Yuzu and Karin safe from one direction then it looks like he’ll just have to do what he has to in order to protect them from everything else instead.

First Protector to all he holds dear, just like mom always used to tell him.

And, in the end, it really is as simple as that.

~~~

“You guys know your situational awareness sucks don’t you?” Ichigo speaks up, taking a small and vicious bit of pleasure from the way Nono and the others all flinch and jump, whirling around to face him with surprise on their faces.

They’d been loitering outside the school as they had taken to doing in the past two weeks, obviously waiting for him to come out.

It had been simple enough to exit out the back, hop the fence, and loop around until he could approach them from behind.

“Kurosaki,” Nono, as always the spokesman for the idiot brigade, steps forward.  “What …”

“Your hand to hand and knife skills suck too, but you’ve all got potential.” Ichigo cuts Nono off before he can start.  Ichigo would rather just get down to business because if he’s really going to do this then he wants to do it like he does everything else.

All in and without wasting time on the bullshit.

“We’ll have to work on that,” Ichigo tells them, hands tucked in his pockets and face set in a bland expression.  “You’ll never be on my level but I should be able to get you trained up half decently pretty quickly.  You’ll probably end up hating me at the end but you’ll be stronger, more solid in at least the basics.  If you’re willing to put the work in.”

Nono blinks at him for a moment, eyes wide.  Beside and behind him the others all have the same wide eyed look of confusion.

All of them except, surprisingly enough, Siagyo.  His expression is already beginning to blossom with a small sort of joy and anticipation, like he’s already guessed what Ichigo is getting towards.

“But,” Ichigo straightens from where he’s been leaning against the lamppost, “if we’re going to do this then we’re going to do it my way.  And if any of you aren't willing to do that, then you need to forget about this entire thing before it goes any further.”

Finally the truth of what he’s saying seems to actually dawn on the others.

Not bothering to say anything else, Ichigo turns on his heel and walks away, body already angled towards the riverbank.

He only goes a few feet before he stops walking and instead cuts a look back over his shoulder at the group too busy gaping at him to move.

“Well?” Ichigo huffs out.  “What’re you guys waiting for?  We’ve got training to get started on so let’s go.  I can’t be the Boss of a bunch of idiots who can’t win a fist fight.  I’ve got a reputation.”

There’s silence.

And then the scrambling of feet on pavement as they all quickly move to fall into formation behind him.

Without bothering to wait anymore he faces forwards again and starts back walking.

Ichigo can hear the small, quiet cheers being exchanged behind him.  Can hear the barely muffled but obviously pleased murmurs of “Kurosaki-oyabun” passing back and forth between the group.

He ignores it and just keeps going.

Ichigo’s sure this will likely find some way to backfire on him in some spectacular fashion but he’s not going to worry about it for now.

He’s going to handle this like he does most everything else.

Full steam ahead, full of determination, and with only a sliver of a plan.