Fate: Shattered part 2

The first chp of this quest was too long like some other work I posted before so this is part 2 of it enjoy

Orihime

Saturday, July 29th, 2006

The sun was shining, the airport busy, and the need to feed growing with every moment passed.

There was also a tiny curse in her hands, contained by Shun Shun Rikka.

"Kanpai!" it garbled, the cheery word mostly indistinct.

The negative creature was a cute thing made entirely of fuzz the colour of spicy mocha jello, with a trio of bleary eyes and a noodly limb that functioned as arm and leg both.

Orihime pouted, somewhat saddened by present circumstances. "Too bad you tried eating Keigo-san's tongue. We could've been friends." She would've gotten them a nametag and fishbowl, and plenty of beer. Alas…

"Tsubaki," she whispered.

"Yeah, yeah. I got it," her fairy scoffed, zipping inside her barrier to split the curse in half. As the negative energy disappeared by her will, Orihime looked to where her friends were congregated.

Situated inside one of a few lounges, they were - one and all - dressed for the beach. Chad was fully restored from his recent battle, Keigo was lazing, Mizuiro was texting, Uryu was typing, and Tatsuki…

Glaring at the variety of little curses which were being carted around on shoulders and bags, Orihime's best friend grimaced from where she was seated at her side.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I miss Karakura. At least there we don't have to deal with spirits trying to crawl up our asses."

Keigo flinched, and his voice quivered, "Does that actually happen? Did that happen to you?!"

"No!" Tatsuki returned, scandalized. "I was being hyperbolic!" Crossing her arms, she huffed. Uryu sighed in unison with the sound, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"As crudely as Arisawa-san put it, her point is well made." He cast a withering glance in the direction of the passersby, eliciting more than a few flinches. Sniffing in disdain, he then said, "The world outside of Karakura is odious. If not for the omnipresent Hollows, I might label our hometown a paradise."

"Don't be mean, Ishida-kun," Orihime chided, her voice soft but assertive. Uryu acceded with a contrite nod, while Chad grunted, grabbing everyone's attention.

"Ichigo is here," he shared, his earthy baritone filling the otherwise empty lounge with ease.

Six pairs of eyes blinked, and Orihime found herself perking up as she recognized the same; her friend's signature was no beacon in the night, but he was inbound. Adjusting his glasses, Uryu hummed.

"And with him Rukia," he said, his gaze momentarily shooting to Orihime.

For her part, the lover of all things baking offered him a smile. She'd talked with Rukia, both before and after the Shinigami became intimate with Ichigo. There was some hurt, but it was a distant ache overpowered by her happiness for the blossoming couple. There was also a subdued hope Rukia's maddened plan could come to fruition, but such was little more than kindling.

Mostly, Orihime was excited.

"Let's go greet them!" she cheered, pumping a fist as she jumped to her feet.

The others followed, all of them smiling at her enthusiasm.

…minutes later, Orihime was embracing Rukia. Tightly.

"You're here!" Swinging the Shinigami around, the taller of them laughed.

"Ophihime," was her friend's garbled response. Doe eyes looked down as the Fullbringer slowed to a stop. Face red, gaze hazed, Rukia conveyed a need for breath. Orihime set her down, apologetically.

"Sorry, Rukia-chan," she whispered. Heaving for oxygen, far from offended by the chesty suffocation, Rukia offered her friend a smile.

"It's alright. I'm happy to you too, Orihime." Then, swivelling her head about to make sure the others were fully invested in their own conversation, Rukia leaned into the Fullbringer's space and hushed, "Are you ready?"

Orihime startled in place. "Now?" she whispered, and Rukia nodded. "It's only been a few weeks. I thought you were going to take things slow."

"I was," Rukia acknowledged, kissing her teeth. "Now I'm not. Do you still want to wait?"

"No, no," Orihime shook her head. "Now works. I'm just… nervous."

"Well don't be," Rukia assured her. "Ichigo will love it. All of us will, I'm sure. I trust you, Orihime."

"I just hope I don't have any regrets," Orihime admitted, thinking on her friend's initial proposal of months ago and how it had since evolved.

"You won't," Rukia declared, sounding certain to the younger woman's ears. "I'll make sure of it. After you helped settle my doubts, it's the least I can do."

Clasping hands with one another, the two of them shared a determined stare.

Operation: 'Satisfy Rukia's Cuckquean Fetish' was a go.

Ichigo

Concurrently

"Here," Uryu said, unloading a small package into Ichigo's arms. No larger than his hand and wrapped in brown paper, it was heavy all the same.

Orange brows knit. "The hell is this?"

Uryu clicked his tongue. "We talked about this before university started, Ichigo. Remember?"

Amber eyes stared, uncomprehending.

"Living up to your mother's legacy? Fulfilling your potential? Mastering the powers Yhwach almost stole?" Uryu sighed. "Did you really forget?"

"Ohhh," Ichigo breathed out, nodding, "Yeah, that." He cocked his head at the Quincy before blithing, "What took you so long? It's been months."

"Surprisingly enough, it takes a while to collect disparate texts and accounts from a destroyed people, to say nothing of compiling that information into a singular book whose every lesson is distilled from centuries of prior learning." Sarcasm oozed from Uryu's every word as he stood amongst his friends, hacking at Ichigo's smug countenance until the Substitute was grimacing. They both knew the Quincy population's ongoing difficulties were a sore spot. Being integrated into a dimension filled with souls dyed by antipathy, at the dubious mercy of the victors; it was an uncomfortable set of circumstances neither of them were equipped to handle. Not without waging another war.

"Sorry… and thanks."

"Apology accepted."

Ichigo traded a curt nod with Uryu, putting the matter behind them as he stored the gift. To his right, Keigo glanced behind their crescent collective, nudging Chad.

"Think they're done?" he asked, earning a shrug from the quiet giant.

Mizuiro spoke up, "Whether or not they are, we should be going." He pointed outside the lobby, where an expensive SUV was pulling in. "Our ride is here."

The nondescript driver of said vehicle brought them to the expansive mansion Rukia had - by way of mysteriously acquired Kuchiki funds - rented. Therein, alcohol flowed and stories were told in between debated activities. And Ichigo wasn't ignorant of the furtive glances his girlfriend was throwing between him and Orihime, even if her faint guilt was overshadowed by an ardour which sparked with increasing frequency; one which had her all but sitting in his lap as Keigo recounted a run in with the yakuza.

Running a hand through his hair and humming in stoic delight at the overgrown locks, it seemed to Ichigo that the Shinigami's tolerance for spirits wasn't the greatest. Her face was flushed and her spiritual pressure slipping loose to rattle the air every ten beats of his heart.

Seeing Mizuiro and Chad preparing an early supper, Ichigo wondered if Rukia wasn't going to burn out before the evening was through. They'd never drank with one another before, and she'd never confessed to having alcohol in Soul Society. She was also in a gigai, meaning she was subject to quite a few human limitations…

Ichigo's brow furrowed as he made to stand up, a glass of water on his mind - violently protesting his thinking, Rukia thrust her hips backwards. Hard. The love seat they were on tipped backwards, slamming against the floor, momentarily dazing the pair. Most of their friends laughed, of course. Rukia herself was no different.

For his part, Ichigo had a sinking feeling made worse as Rukia proceeded to take a pull at Tatsuki's insistence.

Days later, Ichigo lay on a grassy knoll just above the beach. The sunrise was bleeding shades of red and gold across the sky, and the ocean's spray a distant source of cool.

Okinawa, he thought, was beautiful. Warm instead of blazing in the early morning, and private enough for his purposes too. After a hectic ninety or so hours, this was just what he needed. No hungover Rukia or overly competitive Tatsuki, just a little bit of learning.

Quincy were strongest when their minds and bodies were in order, and the first step to accomplishing that state was evenly paced breathing. Like jinzen. So:

'Breathe,' he thought to himself, the text in his hand weighted by his intentions - Uryu's gift was clear on that much. Then, with that accomplished… Ichigo grinned to himself.

After months of idly playing with his Fullbring, it was easy for him to shape and affect small quantities of matter. Sensing the 'core' of existence and then tugging on it was child's play, really. The same couldn't be said for the particulates which existed just outside that central strata.

Back before Uryu promised to deliver a lesson plan, Ichigo had played around with his Quincy abilities; and because of that, he knew it was legitimately difficult to grab the even smaller bits of spiritual stuff. If he was forced to write out just why, the Substitute would have compared liquids to gases. The latter refused to be wholly shaped by fleshly hands, while the form simply conformed.

Put simply, he'd failed. Badly.

Not so anymore.

Held in Ichigo's hand was a blue stick. It was fizzling, shifting in length and breadth, but the rough shape was holding true to his intentions. Moving on with confidence, he sat up and injected a bit of his spiritual power into the flimsy creation, looking to-

The reishi construct exploded.

…thankfully, Ichigo was quick to contain the untoward violence, smothering the eruption with his body. Unfortunately, his Blut wasn't perfect - he was bleeding profusely from a gut wound when his friends found him, his groin and hands having protected themselves out of instinct where his abdomen failed.

It wasn't the end of the world by any means, but it was embarrassing. Especially since Zangetsu was laughing uproariously inside his soul as his hurts were undone; a caustic tide of mirth cut short by Rukia.

Inside their shared space - located at the end of a hidden hallway, well above the other rooms - he froze in the midst of changing his restored trunks out for something more relaxed. As always, his girlfriend managed to surprise him.

"Did you think I was joking?"

Righting himself, Ichigo donned a pair of sweats in full and leveled Rukia with a look. "You were drunk, just like the last two nights. So was I, for that matter." He grimaced in remembrance. "Am I supposed to believe everything that comes out of your mouth when we're like that?"

"Point," Rukia conceded unashamedly, rolling over in bed to lie on her stomach. "That aside, I'm serious: I want you-"

Choice: Ichigo's Interruption -Voting closed - 80 voters

VOTES

"To fuck you and Orihime at the same time."

43/563

"To sleep with Orihime while you're in the closet."

18/25

"To have 'lovey dovey' sex with Orihime while you're gone."

9/12

"To fuck you and Orihime at the same time. I know," Ichigo interrupted. "I'm still conflicted, by the way. I know she had-"

"Has," Rukia corrected, wagging a finger. "Orihime has feelings for you. And she agreed to this, so there's no need to feel like it's a betrayal of us."

Ichigo snorted, then plopped down beside his lover. "That's not the issue," otherwise Orihime would be bouncing in his lap - instead, "It'll feel like I'm leading her on. She's one of my best friends, Rukia. I don't want to hurt her. Ever."

He'd done so enough already. Having sex with her… chances were somebody's feelings were going to be damaged. Badly.

"Well…" Rukia swallowed. "Would it be so bad? If you weren't leading her on," she clarified. "She's smart and beautiful, funny, kind, and perfectly capable of giving you a family. I've never seen her be anything less than generous, and she's always looking for the best in people. Orihime is the perfect package." Her brow furrowed, and her impassioned voice grew that much stronger as she furrowed her brow, fixing Ichigo with a mildly reproving look. "Really, you should be honoured. There's a whole dimension of men who would kill for the opportunity to have her, let alone two perfectly willing women."

Cracking a smile, Ichigo ran his fingers along Rukia's spine. "Setting aside the insanity you just spouted, it sounds like you want her more than I do… do you, Rukia? Love her, that is." She froze, and the curve of his lips softened.

Looking down at the ground, Rukia sucked in a slow and weighty breath, her power curling in on itself to hide away from the world.

"...Hypothetically speaking, if I did - and I do mean hypothetically - what would you say?"

Choice: Ichigo's Response -Voting closed - 16 voters

VOTES

"Hypothetically speaking, I'd say, 'This sounds like a conversation we should be having with Orihime.'"

10/111

"I'd ask how long you've been in love with Orihime. Then I'd ask how you want us to proceed."

4/5

Ichigo clicked his tongue in thought. "Hypothetically speaking, I'd say, 'This sounds like a conversation we should be having with Orihime.'"

Rukia rolled over so that she was pressed against his thigh. "So…" Purple eyes blinked up at Ichigo, hope venturing near their surface.

"Yes," Ichigo answered the unspoken question, because he loved and cherished Rukia, and if this had a chance of making her happy…

"Great!" she sprung to her feet, fist clenched by determination. "I'll bring Orihime here after everyone has gone to bed."

Lying on his back, Ichigo took hold of her calf. Attention thus grabbed, the Shinigami glanced down at him.

"What?" she asked.

"That's going to be really late." Too late for a conversation they needed their mental faculties for. "We're dropping Tatsuki, Keigo and Uryu off at the airport after midnight, remember?"

"Oh."

Ichigo pulled Rukia down and smirked at her yelp. "Call her up right now," he said, and soon enough she was doing so.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, Orihime and Rukia were tonguing for Ichigo's 'benefit' atop their bed - which was just another way of saying, 'Collectively, they wanted to know how the sight made him feel.'

Watching Rukia dominate the kiss, lips greedy but tender, blissful sounds moaning past her lips as the curvy Fullbringer gasped and mewled, each noise a needy plea for oxygen; both smelling and tasting their mutual excitement, and feeling for himself their suppressed power surging just beneath their skin - altogether, it made Ichigo hard. But ardour wasn't his focus as they pulled away from one another, though it sat prominently in his mind. Instead, he turned to his other emotions while they regarded him, gazes glazed with shock, mouths wet.

Breathing slowly, Ichigo mused… and thought… and ruminated… and finally swore, "Fuck," because he couldn't rightfully speak on what he was feeling beyond base attraction.

"What?" Rukia blinked.

"That was hot," Ichigo admitted, somewhat helplessly shrugging, "That's all I've got."

Rukia cleared her throat. Orihime coloured.

"In that case," the former said, "I think it's time we moved on. Orihime," she gestured, and the younger woman stood. Ichigo looked to Rukia and found a permissive light in her eyes; a wealth of excitement too.

"Ichigo," she swallowed, his name barely a breath. 'Go on,' she mouthed, nodding at Orihime, who was facing him with closed eyes.

Their womanly friend was red in the face and willing, lips parted by expectation.

Mind a fractured slurry of lust and love and worry, and a thousand more shades of feelings unnamed, Ichigo acquiesced. Cradling Orihime's face, he leaned down to press a lingering kiss against her lips - and as he tasted bittersweet chocolate and sweetest fruits, he heard Rukia's breathing grow laboured.

"Continue," she whispered over shuffling fabrics.

Ichigo did so haltingly at first, but with increasing vigour as Orihime matched his passion without fail, tongues explorative. After the ten second mark, they ceased as everyone previously agreed.

His subsequent kiss with Rukia was similar to the one he'd only just shared - and yet, it was different in every way that counted.

Orihime was an enjoyable experience, there was no doubting that . But her lips didn't sear their softness into the banks of his memory, or make his soul sing like the dawn arisen. He didn't love her like he did Rukia, and she must have detected as much, because she offered him a sad but acceptant smile as Rukia gathered herself.

"So…"

"So…"

Ichigo's gaze flickered between Rukia and Orihime, neither of whom could look him in the eyes.

Rather fearlessly, he cut to the meat of the matter: Orihime was in love with him, Rukia was in love with them both, and he was in love with Rukia. Saying as much, he earned a squeak and glare both.

"I'm in love with you alone, fool!" Rukia shouted, before immediately sagging into a whisper: "I just also love Orihime… there's a difference."

Ichigo nodded, the motion slow and kind. "That being said, this," he motioned between them all, "needs to be addressed. So," he clapped, echoing their earlier bemusement.

"What do you two want?"

Pressing palms to cheeks and so squishing her face, Orihime took a deep breath. Then, with naked resolve, she said, "I don't want to intrude. Ever." She offered Rukia an apologetic smile before turning back to Ichigo. "But, um, I would like to have sex… if that's alright."

"What?"

In response to Ichigio's flabbergasted utterance, her smile brightened. "Well, we don't live together. And I don't want to make things harder between you two. But I would like to share my first time with someone I trust." Taking hold of Rukia's hand, she giggled, "Or someones, in this case. It's a little scary, but it's also exciting. Like a rollercoaster!"

Ichigo grabbed Rukia's other hand, surprised but welcoming in the face of Orihime's feelings. Mostly because he was winging everything, and she was sounding sensible.

Stunned by the turn in events, Rukia managed a thoughtless nod.

Orihime fiddled with the hem of her shorts. "Does now work?"

Rukia's top promptly hit the ground alongside her pants, and Ichigo rediscovered that sex with a virgin wasn't anything to celebrate. In fact, it kind of sucked.

The times afterward were increasingly enjoyable, though. Orihime was pliable, flexible, and all too willing to contort her body in ways that benefited their respective peaks. Still, integrating a third person wasn't seamless. It was awkward and messy for long minutes, and involved potential bruising, but they made things work.

Ichigo was greatly enjoying having Orihime bent over, with the majority of his cock capable of fitting inside her cunt. It was novel and tight, and her folds were begging to milk him dry while he fingerfucked Rukia into oblivion. Soaked by sweat, his friend was muffling her cries with the bedsheets as she creamed over and over again.

"The closet, Rukia!" Orihime suddenly gasped, getting Rukia to disengage with rushed alacrity.

"The closet?" Ichigo ventured, as his girlfriend invaded their room's storage space.

Orihime giggled breathily, voice shuddering alongside her limbs. "Rukia wants to watch. It's part two of Operation: Satisfy Rukia's Cuckquean Fetish."

Ichigo was certain the consequential confusion he felt perfectly summed up his morning.

Elsewhere, lacking the sexual gratification Soul Society's saviour was partaking in, foes moved forward.

~

Ichigo: Luck

Roll: bo3 1d100

71, 73, 44 (DC: 95/100), Failure

~

Choice: 'Villainous' Interlude -Voting closed - 42 voters

VOTES

Aizen: Within Muken

22/27

Kenjaku: Aligning the Stars

12/14

Bansui: Crossing Boundaries

7/7

Tokinada: A Noble's Right

5/6

Arturo: Echoes of the Ur

3/4

Aizen

Concurrently

Located underneath the First Division's barracks, Muken was the eighth and final floor of the Central Great Underground Prison. Dimensionally out of phase with Soul Society, it was suffused with a darkness unknown to light. It was also cold and sterile, and home to true immortals; seven criminals with a combined sentencing of one-hundred thirty thousand years for crimes against Soul Society.

Composed of folded space and forcefully inflicted time which kept the prisoners from interacting, the rarely visited locale was tangentially connected to the worlds beyond by a lonely tower; a secret beacon disguised by spellcraft and ancient toolsets.

It was there, wrapped in black, perforated by bindings wrought through the work of dozens, that Sosuke Aizen - traitor, 'madman' and revolutionary - considered the ongoings of the Living World and Soul Society.

Such knowledge should have been unattainable, considering all that lay between him and freedom. But Aizen was nothing if not valuable, and Urahara Kisuke - his sole contemporary where intelligence was concerned - was nothing if not pragmatic. The former Captain smiled to himself in defiance of his confinement.

His old enemy was truly daring.

To consider him a wild card and potential ally, risking the trust and compliance of a great many warriors - it was tactically sound, because Aizen knew himself to be greater than the Gotei Thirteen. However, if he actively fought against Kurosaki Ichigo's side out of spite…

Beneath his seals, the traitorous Shinigami's smile transformed into a smirk, because Urahara was no fool. Like him, the once banished scientist understood that a reckoning was on the horizon. Within the next century, his rival's protege would find himself embroiled in conflict with Soul Society - whether because the throne required a new occupant, or because certain truths were unearthed, such was guaranteed by the circumstances of Yhwach's defeat. The chance to rewrite that which he despised was nigh.

Aizen hummed, testing his bonds.

'Kurosaki roaming amongst the cursed, a human on the verge of ascending, and the Memory Rosary extant - truly, the world never ceases to amuse.' Had he the ability, the Shinigami would have drummed his fingers.

'Alas…'

Mind turning to possibilities unborn, Aizen quietly absorbed the rest of Urahara's information through the surreptitiously planted spell which allowed for their monthly interactions: Tsunayashiro was attempting to reinstate the Shiba as a Great Noble House, the Zero Division was blessedly silent, and the Rukongai districts were being affected by the Seireitei's lengthy list of renovations.

Aizen wondered which would play the part of axis for the coming war; upon which issue would the world burn?

He sincerely hoped it was entirely divorced from his fellow inmates.

'Imbeciles, all.'

Aizen set aside his disdain to consider his own plans. More specifically, the spell that was even now winding down to recharge.

Perhaps Urahara intended for him to utilize their means of communication as a makeshift key, that he might get hacked into a thousand pieces and placed upon the throne for the crime of escaping. Perhaps he meant for it to satiate his desire for knowledge until such a time he was needed.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Whatever the case, Aizen intended on taking advantage of present circumstances; a notion mirrored by a former foe.

Ichigo

Friday, August 11th, 2006

Lying next to a feverish Orihime, Ichigo stared at the ceiling with an utterly blank look.

'Holy shit, my girlfriend is a deviant.'

It sounded like a low quality light novel's title, but it was true. The mansion was emptied of everyone but himself, her, and Orihime due to previous obligations - and in the twenty or so hours since their friends departed, she'd revealed a lot.

For one, Rukia loved closets. Closed or ever so slightly open, she wanted to be inside them as another woman got her rocks off. Secondly, she was a massive fan of porn starring her boyfriend, but only so long as it starred a woman not herself. Thirdly, she was really, really into-

Choice: Rukia's Secondary Kink -Voting closed - 9 voters

VOTES

-secretive sex.

6/7

-breeding.

2/4

-anal.

0

-secretive sex. Which played a bit strangely with the Shinigami's love of cuckoldry at times (specifically when she wanted Orihime and him to fuck with her in the same room without her knowledge), but it made her happy. Not that Ichigo or Orihime minded playing out Rukia's fantasies. Neither wanted anything but the best for their friend, and the two of them were growing increasingly comfortable with one another in bed, the bath, the shower, and so on.

Thus, their current state and Rukia's ongoing masturbation in a different room.

Orgasmic high ridden out, Orihime offered him a faint smile. She didn't kiss him, but she did thump her head against his chest while her shoulders shook with laughter.

Ichigo felt her smile against his skin as she said, "You know, life really is hilarious. A few months ago, I'd have never guessed this sort of thing was on the table. But here we are." He grunted his agreement. She huffed in mirth.

"Did you know Rukia-chan has a list of people she wants you to sleep with?"

"No," Ichigo returned, surprised. "But that sounds like her."

Orihime nodded, exhaling contentment through her nose, breathing slowed.

"There's Yoruichi-san, of course. And Riruka-chan, Rangiku-chan, Lisa-san, and a lot of others. Hah~" she yawned, eyes growing sleepy.

…Ichigo tucked her into bed not long afterwards. His thoughts, of course, circled the unveiled information.

When confronted, Rukia smiled unashamedly.

In response, Ichigo fucked her into a metaphorical oblivion.

Such was the end of their vacation.

That wasn't to say Todai's allocated break was over. Rather, there was business to take care of.

For Ichigo, his involved scrimmages and practices, and a whole lot of lifting.

Lots and lots of lifting. Not all of it physical.

August 26th, 2006

It was the bottom of the ninth, and the score between Todai and Rikkyo was tied at zero. Thousands of fans were chanting or booing, makeshift signs distracting from present scouts. With the dark of latest day disturbed by floodlights, Meiji Stadium looked as if the autumnal season was in full swing - all because a small bout between distant schools had since evolved into a full blown broadcast, complete with an electric atmosphere and illegal wagers.

Baking beneath the artificial luminance, the Tiger of Todai was on the mound, frowning as the epithet he'd been saddled with boomed:

"Tora! Tora! Tora! Tora!"

Tokyo was livened by their 'hometown' hero, whose streak of no-hitters was becoming legend. Women and girls, boys and men - all and sundry were interested in seeing if today was the day his run of games came to an end.

Unconcerned, Ichigo considered the batter at his fore: Todoroki something - thick with muscle and possessed of a fiery will, he was guaranteed a spot in the professional league if hearsay was at all accurate. There was a wild delight in his fellow freshman's eyes

Ichigo couldn't remember his name, but he recognized that this moment meant a lot for the shorter student. More than it did for him. Certainly, the weight of the ball in his hand was different than usual, layered by the breadth of Tokyo's expectations, but that was just the atmosphere dragging at his limbs. Or rather, he could hear his old man chanting alongside his sisters, and could plainly see that Rukia's attention was divided between him and the unofficial mascots brawling near his team's dugout. Like the aforementioned family members, she was wearing his jersey – and she looked damn good in the oversized piece of clothing, or so the Substitute thought. Having never played with them behind home plate before, he wasn't entirely divorced from the proceedings.

Exhaling, the Substitute refocused on his opponent. Fully so. He could think on Goat-chin's stupid face later.

Thus determined, he threw a twisted slider.

~

Raichi: Luck

Roll: bo1 1d100

71 (DC: 15/55/95), Foul/Pop Up/First Base

~

Earning a vast chorus of gasps, Todoroki connected with the nearly cinematic throw. Poorly, yes. But he touched where dozens had failed. So he ran. To the sound of utmost surprise, he sprinted for all that he was worth, pumping his arms like a man possessed – and then he was out as the flyball was caught. The game was over. Todoroki had cemented his status as a batter with great potential.

In the hours to come, there were celebrations, newly borne debts, and a host of talking points for fans of Japanese baseball.

…and none of it mattered to Ichigo.

Inside a Mos Burger not far from Meiji Stadium, said student sat with his loved ones. He was only somewhat regretting his decision to stay behind.

"Fuck me," he complained, huffing at the reproving look being shot by Yuzu.

'Language,' she mouthed, frowning when Karin smirked in the direction their brother was looking.

"What, you don't like being scouted? Poor, Ichi-nii," she teased, seeing a number of clipboard-bearing men making conversation outside the eatery. The dark-haired twin rolled her eyes.

Ichigo tossed a napkin in her face and grunted. "I don't like being harassed. Especially since I've told everyone and their grandma that I'm not committing until I'm done with my schooling."

"But you're okay with the idea of going professional?"

Ichigo looked at his father, brow furrowing in bemusement. 'Am I?' he wondered. It was years into the future that he'd have to make a legitimately impactful decision. And he was far more interested in studying languages. But money was nice, and baseball was fun. The sport consumed time, though - and that was a hectic mess Ichigo was not a fan of.

"Hmm," he hummed, drawing the table's attention.

Choice: Narrative Bent -Voting closed - 77 voters

VOTES

Languages > Baseball

37/541

Baseball > Languages

14/19

N/A > N/A (Whatever)

8/11

"I think… I think baseball isn't something I'm interested in, beyond guaranteeing my scholarship." Offering the table a shrug, Ichigo clicked his tongue. "It's just not enjoyable enough to justify ignoring my actual interests."

"Fair enough." Goat-chin returned his shrug with a lackadaisical grin, while Karin voiced her disappointment. Yuzu chided her for those words, of course – and Rukia teased them both, a sly note hidden by her Lieutenant tone.

It was a familial end to a mildly taxing day; a sequence which would find itself repeated in the months to come, as days crawled into weeks, and weeks sprinted into changing seasons - Mos Burger became the Kurosaki 'spot' for post-game relaxation, while Ichigo sought to further his understanding of language, going so far as to ask Kisuke for aid.

In the aftermath of Todai's first ever Big Six sweep and semi-final run to Japan's most acclaimed collegiate championship, he was made to pay back that favour.

Thursday, December 28th, 2006

"Urahara wants you to what?"

Walking hand in hand with Rukia to a nearby station instead of her favourite cafe as planned, Ichigo yawned. The early hour was something of a killer, in the wake of reading Kisuke's primer on the connections between the spiritual aspects of existence and the development of language in the Living World. But the lethargy was worthwhile.

The Substitute was confident he could pass his upcoming tests with flying colours, and not only because he could now use his Fullbring to better communicate. There was something to be said about having a polymath's handwritten notes on a subject which once held their interest; it made breaking down previously difficult concepts child's play.

Huffing at her boyfriend's silence, Rukia poked his side. "You can sleep on the train."

"Right," Ichigo yawned again, jolted back into the present. "I, uh… crap, where's the text." Scrolling through his phone, the Substitute paused on the shopkeeper's last message and read out: "I have a package that needs picking up. It will be waiting for you under the slide of Asahide Kids Playground. Deliver it before the day's end, pretty please."

Rukia tapped her chin, dark brows knitting together. "Asahide… that's in Toshima City, isn't it? Urahara could get there and back to Karakura in the time it takes us to reach the next train stop."

"Kisuke can be a lazy bastard when he wants to be," Ichigo said, earning a snort from his disgruntled lover as they neared the station. "In any case, we're on break," he continued. "This just means I get to see my sisters a day early."

"It also means enduring your father's antics."

"He's mellowed out… a little," Ichigo defended, feeling a liar by half.

"Mellowed out. Mhm." Rukia smiled sweetly. "Last week, he made half a dozen children faint when he dove off the rooftop of your old middle school."

'Goddamnit, Goat-chin,' Ichigo swore inwardly, mindful of the passersby. It was all too easy to imagine his old man doing just that for some batshit insane reason.

Shortly thereafter, he had far fewer fucks to give; and with good reason.

"Fucking Kisuke," he cursed under his breath.

Staring at him and Rukia with shock writ across her face was a friend of Karin's he knew through hearsay alone. She was under a slide as promised, albeit curled into a ball; and she wasn't an it, which was an issue as far as he was concerned. Orange eyes, dark hair, a soft face, with enough cursed energy to suffocate a Menos. Kisuke was up to his usual shady shit.

Gripings aside, though…

"Senna, right?"

"What's it to you?" the girl returned, her mouth twisting in an approximation of Karin's scowl; a purposefully fierce expression Ichigo had unknowingly influenced his youngest sister into adopting.

Said Kurosaki waved in response to the girl's hostility.

"The name's Ichigo, Karin's brother; and this is Rukia. Kisuke sent us." Falling into a crouch, he eyed the decorated choker Senna was wearing; it was pulling the girl's cursed energy back into her body, explaining why he hadn't detected her from the next town over when, this close, she was impossible to ignore; a wildfire of negativity instead of a simple candle.

"Oh." Senna deflated, taut shoulders losing their strength. "Kisuke did?"

Rukia nodded. "Yes. But he called you a package." Her voice took on an exasperated note. "There was no mention of a middle schooler."

"Hmmph!" Senna crossed her arms, mood doing a one-eighty as she clambered out from underneath the slide, standing tall for the second it took Ichigo to get upright. Ignoring their difference in stature, she looked to Rukia.

"Kisuke's being overprotective. I just came here to think, not to run away. Go back and-"

Chop

"Owie!"

Ichigo snorted at Senna's exaggeration, hand falling flat on her head. Ruffling her hair, he said, "We're not gonna leave you in the middle of nowhere when you're supposed to be in Karakura. Now, come on." Motioning for her to follow, he gestured to the nearby sidewalk. "Let's talk."

Hours later, Ichigo was marching into Kisuke's lab with a mind for murder.

The decision to be proactive in addressing Senna's temporary abandonment of Karakura resulted in him and Rukia learning quite a lot. Such as her current place of stay (the Urahara Shop), orphan status (as of a few months ago), and the entirety of those circumstances surrounding Chad's summertime injury (which was a much more volatile situation than purported), among deadlier details. Consequently, the 'Jujutsu higher-ups' were officially on the Kurosaki's shitlist.

"Oi, Kisuke!"

The addressed Shinigami spun around in his chair, turning away from a set of beakers. "Ichigo, what a wonderful surprise!" he cheered, cloak flapping from the suddenness of his motion.

"Surprise my ass," Ichigo growled, pacing. "What the hell is up with a little girl being sentenced to death for defending her friend?!"

"Ah, that. I assure you, the Chamber Elders will not touch Senna." Grey eyes grew flinty as a cold smile stretched across the scientist's face. "I made sure they rescinded their order."

Ichigo huffed, then seated himself across from the Shinigami. "And her best friend, Riko?"

"In similar straits." Leaning back in his chair, Kisuke let the less than kind mien fall away in favour of his usual geniality. "They're safe in Karakura, Ichigo."

"That doesn't change the fact some old fucks want her dead."

"My, my, so attached – and it's only been a few hours." Favouring the amber-eyed youth with one of his softer smiles, Kisuke shook his head. "Still every bit the firebrand."

Mirroring Kisuke's posture, Ichigo snorted. "I like to think most people have a problem when a bunch of nameless pricks try to execute an innocent kid."

"You'd be surprised, Ichigo," said a familiar baritone.

Following the utterance, a tiny spot of warmth settled across the student's shoulders; a black cat whose identity was well known to the seated spiritualists.

"Yoruichi?"

"Who else?" A dainty paw pushed against Ichigo's cheek, cushioning the flesh. "I wanted to see what the trouble was." Going slack, her smoker's voice took a muted quality as she said, "Innocent kids are dying all the time to deafening silence. It was Senna's luck that the Six Eyes listened to Sado and let her get a headstart to Karakura. Doesn't make an execution right, of course. But then, righteousness isn't worth much without power."

Frowning, Ichigo stewed in the shapeshifted Shinigami's spoken truth while Kisuke hummed musingly.

"You're bothered by this. Well and truly so." Steepling his fingers, he asked, "Do you want to do something about Japan's society of sorcerers?" The scientist grinned, "It's within your power to try, being human."

Ichigo scoffed, reaching up to run a hand along Yoruichi's spine. "'Do something,'" he parroted. "I'm not looking to start a fight, let alone a revolution. I just… Kids shouldn't die because of misguided fears. Riko and Senna…"

"You see your sisters," Kisuke observed.

Ichigo nodded, grunting wordlessly. It was all too easy to picture Yuzu and Karin outside of Karakura, hunted because some assholes were ignorant of their heritage.

"Well, in that case, you should stay off the Chamber Council's radar. Ignore them as best you can."

"Too right," Yoruichi agreed, playfully patting Ichigo's chest. "Letting go is for the best." Preemptively shushing him with a bright-eyed look, she explained, "Unless you're prepared to carry out some truly bloody threats, antagonizing Japan's sorcerers is a great way to get your bloodline put on a kill list. Worse, the Central Forty Six has you under surveillance, waiting for an excuse to bring you into the fold."

"Oh no, my badge is monitoring me… and Rukia's reports are being read." Ichigo rolled his eyes in dismissal, only for Yoruichi to lash his head with her tail, properly thumping the Substitute.

"It's much more serious than some idle information gathering. It's why I'm here, actually. To warn you: T