Chapter Text
Chapter 1 - Setting the Board
Ichigo Kurosaki was fifteen years old when he learned that any plan concocted by Kisuke Urahara was going to be sketchy, have a high chance of death, and would somehow end up working perfectly. The first two reasons were why Ichigo had a tendency to be hesitant anytime Urahara asked for a favor with a feigned expression of innocence on his face; the last reason was why Ichigo tended to agree anyway.
Well, there was also the fact that Urahara was a master manipulator and knew just how to twist the screws to get the orange-haired teenager to do what he wanted him to.
The eccentric candy shop owner was Ichigo’s mentor and friend, and he’d come through any time Ichigo had needed him. He knew he could always depend on Urahara. Trust , however, was a completely different matter. Which was why Ichigo was more than a bit reluctant when Urahara told him that they would be hosting an interdimensional gathering in the World of the Living to “promote healthy relations between all three worlds.”
When Urahara had added that the Head Captain of the Gotei 13 thought it was a “splendid idea,” Ichigo had actually become vaguely terrified. If Yamamoto had still been commander of the Shinigami, Ichigo doubted he would have felt such fear. Even if the old man had tried to imprison or execute several of Ichigo’s friends and family members.
Head Captain Kyoraku, on the other hand, was just as fierce and ruthless in battle as his predecessor, but outside of it was rather laid-back and relaxed, probably because he was usually some level of inebriated. Which was part of the reason he got along so well with both Urahara and Yoruichi Shihouin since they appreciated their alcohol as much as Kyoraku did. After the fourth meeting he’d had with three of them, Ichigo had given up on trying to figure out who was the bad influence in their friendship.
“You’ve been meeting the Captains and Halibel at least once a week for the last couple of months,” Ichigo pointed out. “Why now? Why here?”
“ Ah, I’m so glad you asked!” Urahara exclaimed, which was never a good thing, in Ichigo’s opinion. Especially since the damn fan made an appearance for the first time in the conversation. “Those meetings — as I’m sure you know, having had to sit through a few of them yourself — are all about politics . They tend to be either extremely heated or quite dull. They do little to foster friendship or trust.”
“And you think if they meet here that’ll change?” Ichigo asked, his incredulous expression not hiding the fact that he considered this one of Urahara’s less well-thought-out plans.
“Not at all!” Urahara said cheerfully. “But this meeting won’t be for the Captains. It will be for the Lieutenants. If we can encourage good relationships between them and some of the remaining Arrancar, perhaps they will be able to persuade their Captains to be more lenient during negotiations. I’m sure you understand, Ichigo, that I am doing this more to benefit Hueco Mundo than I am Soul Society.”
And there it was: the guilt. Several of Ichigo’s dearest friends were Shinigami, but something about the plight of the Arrancar tugged at his heartstrings and urged him to help. Maybe it was because they had been created by Aizen just to be used , then they had been discarded after the Winter War. He’d thought of them as enemies, at one point, and then they had fought the Quincy as his allies. Still, they were barely tolerated by some of the Shinigami and actually reviled by most.
“What would I have to do?” Ichigo asked, still hesitant about the idea.
“Oh, nothing strenuous!” Urahara promised. “Just a chance to meet each other without the risk of battle. To talk and see that we aren’t all that different from each other. Perhaps some trust exercises!”
“Trust exercises,” Ichigo repeated dully. He couldn’t help but imagine company retreats where employees were forced to do three-legged races or trust falls and snickered at how poorly that would go over with a bunch of Shinigami and Arrancar.
“Trust exercises!” Urahara said again, way too chipper for Ichigo to be at ease with whatever the man had planned. Still, if it could somehow help the negotiations between the three worlds, Ichigo could hardly refuse.
“Fine,” he agreed sullenly.
“Excellent!” Urahara said happily. “I will be in touch with the details, Ichigo!”
His excitement did little to help Ichigo’s unease. If anything, it made it worse.
*************
Ichigo had expected Urahara to text him the information about the gathering like a normal person, forgetting that this was Kisuke Urahara, who was definitely not a normal person. While the invitation Urahara sent this time was better than writing in blood on Ichigo’s bedroom wall, the metric shit-ton of confetti that the envelope exploded onto him was actually harder to clean up. Yuzu was going to kill Ichigo for it, because his little sister was too sweet to understand what an annoying asshole the candy shop owner was.
The invitation mentioned that gigai and human world identification would be required, and a handwritten note at the bottom of the invite told Ichigo to stop by the shop sometime before the meeting. Hopefully, it was so that Urahara could give Ichigo his own fake ID because the meeting was at a bar, which Ichigo shouldn’t really be surprised about if Kyoraku was involved. The Head Captain tended to forget that Ichigo couldn’t legally drink in the World of the Living yet, probably because he had saved the world twice before even finishing high school.
But what the hell was Urahara thinking unleashing a bunch of Shinigami and Arrancar onto a human bar!?
“Oh, I’m sure you will have no problem keeping everybody civil, Ichigo,” Urahara had assured him when Ichigo had asked him that very question. He’d seemed completely unaffected by the teen’s incredulous glare.
“You know Grimmjow is going to be there, right?” Ichigo asked. “He’s not even civil when he’s sober and isn't in a room with a bunch of Shinigami!”
The last was actually speculation; the only time he’d had much interaction with the blue-haired Arrancar when not surrounded by Shinigami was when Grimmjow was actively trying to kill him. They'd spent some time together, after the war, mainly because Grimmjow had been stuck in a gigai living at Urahara's shop. They'd even fought a time or two, though they'd been reduced to fisticuffs on account of Grimmjow's gigai. The Arrancar hadn't found the fights at all satisfactory as far as rematches went, probably because Ichigo was much more used to fighting in a human body and had kicked his ass every time.
“I’m sure Halibel has made certain Grimmjow will be on his best behavior, and Nelliel will be here as well to ensure he is.”
Ichigo snorted softly. “I doubt anybody could make Grimmjow behave.”
“ Really, Ichigo?” Urahara said, and there was something even shadier than normal in his tone that caused Ichigo’s hackles to rise. “Well, I’m sure it will be interesting to find out if you are right.”
Interesting. Not potentially life-threatening or war-inducing. Interesting . For a moment there, Ichigo had forgotten that Urahara was a madman who only vaguely pretended at sanity.
Freaking interesting.
On the plus side, Ichigo now had a fake ID and he enjoyed being able to pick up beer before going to meet his friends from school. Unfortunately, that had the side effect of making Keigo think he was even cooler and his classmate’s level of hero-worship had already hit an annoying extreme.
*************
The night of the meeting arrived, and Ichigo was making his way toward the bar with more than a hint of trepidation. His anxiety began to ease a bit when he saw two familiar figures walking down the street towards him. The tall redhead had his hair down, which was a rarity, and for once he wasn’t dressed like a reject from the 1970s. He wore faded jeans that fit his long legs like a glove and a mauve button-up that was almost too close to pink for Ichigo’s tastes but somehow didn’t look bad on him. Perhaps because he had the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and the collar open, showing hints of the dark lines of his tattoos. More likely, it was because the tight material stretched across broad shoulders left no doubts about Renji Abarai’s masculinity, but Ichigo tried not to look at his friend that way.
Tried being the optimal word, since the lieutenant of the Sixth Division really was a gorgeous specimen of a man. Still, Ichigo might have finally admitted he was attracted to guys, but he didn’t like perving on his friends.
The girl with him was his opposite in nearly every way. Petite to the point of absurdity, Rukia Kuchiki was dressed in a bright blue dress that flared delicately above her knee. She looked sweet and fragile and all of twelve years old. Looks, though, could be deceiving, since the Shinigami was over a century and a half, could probably kick Ichigo’s ass, and was definitely not sweet.
“Renji, Rukia,” Ichigo greeted, his normal scowl twisting up to a smile.
Rukia called his name with an excited wave that somehow made her look even younger, and Ichigo wondered how the hell she was going to get in the bar even with Urahara’s fake identification.
Renji gave a wide grin, a mock salute, and said, “Yo, strawberry!” which quickly made Ichigo’s scowl return.
“Shut it, pineapple!” Ichigo shot back, but really the insult didn’t work without Renji’s hair in its normally spiked ponytail.
“Ah, you know you’re still my favorite fruit,” Renji said, grabbing Ichigo in a loose headlock and rubbing his knuckles roughly against the top of Ichigo’s orange head.
“I will punch you so hard your gigai rejects you,” Ichigo grumbled, causing Renji’s hand to freeze on top of his head for a moment.
“Can he do that?” the redhead asked Rukia with a mix of curiosity and fear.
“It’s Ichigo,” Rukia answered, more than a bit amused. “I’ve stopped doubting anything.”
Ichigo simply shook his head and huffed out a laugh. Renji’s arm stayed around his shoulders as they resumed their walk across Karakura toward the bar where everyone was supposed to be meeting. His friend had become oddly more tactile since Ichigo’s sexual preferences had become public knowledge. He didn’t mean anything by it. But it was comfortable, nice, and left Ichigo with a bit of a semi that he had to ignore. He was still a teenager, after all, and physical contact outside of a fight wasn't something he'd had much of in his life. So even if it made him a bit uncomfortable, he didn’t shrug the arm off. He told himself it was just because he didn't want to hurt Renji’s feelings, but he knew that for the lie it was.
Ichigo had never actually meant to come out of the closet as homosexual. Shortly after the war, he’d told his friend Tatsuki he was attracted to guys. She was his oldest friend — and he’d kept so many secrets from her over the past few years — that it had seemed only right to tell her first. Not to mention, he knew she wouldn't judge considering her own preferences. Unfortunately, Tatsuki had suggested — or, rather, threatened to beat him bloody if he didn’t — that Ichigo needed to tell Orihime, considering the crush she’d had on him for years. Ichigo had spent just as long hoping Orihime’s crush would go away, but it had proven persistent. He’d talked to her, and being the sweet girl that she was, Orihime had accepted that was his preference with a smile on her face.
Unfortunately, Orihime had waited until she’d gotten home to her apartment to break down about it, and Rangiku Matsumoto had been staying with her at the time.
Rangiku couldn’t keep a secret to save her life, especially not a juicy piece of gossip like that, so by the next week the entire Seireitei had known about Ichigo Kurosaki’s sexual preference. Literally all of the Seireitei. There had been a special edition of the Seireitei Bulletin and everything. Orihime had been horrified and apologetic, but Ichigo had simply shrugged it off. He’d already accepted that he didn’t have much control over his life. It was just one more example of how true that was.
However, his unintentional outing was also how Ichigo found out that for all of its traditional leanings, Soul Society didn’t seem to care who you fucked. Apparently, experimentation was a thing when you lived for hundreds of years, and most Shinigami were bisexual, at least, without thinking much about it. Same-sex couples were common in the Seireitei. The only ones who seemed to have an issue with it were the Noble Houses. Of the nobles Ichigo knew, not even they seemed to care. Kyoraku had been in a relationship with Jushiro Ukitake for years until his passing, Yoruichi was indiscriminate in who she slept with, and Rukia couldn’t swear that Byakuya was completely straight even though he’d been married to her sister. Renji swore he wasn’t with a certainty that caused both his girlfriend and Ichigo to glance at him and made Ichigo doubt that his friend was as heterosexual as he thought. Rukia’s vague look of horror suggested she’d come to the same conclusion.
Neither of them asked. Neither of them had wanted to know. There were some truths that were better left unspoken.
Unfortunately for them, not only was Urahara a mastermind at planning odd schemes, he was also a complete asshole. Secrets were not something they’d have many of by the end of the night.
*************
Ichigo had never been in the bar that the meeting was held in — or any bar, really, since he was underage — so he was surprised to learn it served a variety of different food and that dinner was part of the meeting agenda. If he’d known that, he might not have fought his dad so hard for seconds of the curry Yuzu had made.
Nanao Ise met them when they entered, somehow still looking like a Shinigami despite the black pencil skirt and button-down blouse that she wore. Perhaps because she still wore the same hairstyle and glasses, and the same prim look as she checked something off on her clipboard when she saw them. “Excellent work in finding our wayward Substitute,” she complimented Rukia and Renji.
“I wasn’t even late!” Ichigo argued.
“Other than the Hueco Mundo contingent, you are the last to arrive,” Nanao informed him, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose in a manner that reminded him remarkably of Ishida.
It explained why they were worried about Ichigo not being there yet. He wasn’t stupid enough not to realize he was supposed to be some sort of mediator between the Shinigami and the Arrancar present, which might have worked if the blue-haired Sexta hadn’t been on the list attending. He butted heads with Grimmjow constantly even when they weren’t trying to actively kill each other!
Nanao led them to a back room that Urahara had rented for the private party. It had a large round table in it, each place set with empty dishes, a brightly colored zabuton cushion, and a small name placard. “Please find your assigned seat,” she ordered them.
Ichigo frowned upon hearing that. “We have assigned seats?! What is this, grade school?”
“Captain Kyoraku was insistent,” the somber woman told him. “He even gave me a seating chart, so I will know if you change places.”
Ichigo almost groaned when she flipped the clipboard around to show him the chart. It was drawn on a cocktail napkin and he was pretty certain it was Yoruichi’s handwriting. The purple-haired exile was even more twisted and easily amused than Urahara, and twice as pervy, which was saying something. She also took particular delight in tormenting Ichigo.
There were five empty seat placings around the table — for the three of them and the two Hollows once they showed up — and they were all placed together. When Renji took a seat beside Shuhei Hisagi, and Rukia took the seat next to him, Ichigo began to pray that Yoruichi had been in a good mood and sat him beside the petite Shinigami.
Of course, Yoruichi in a good mood was sometimes even more sadistic than normal, which is how Ichigo found himself seated between Ikkaku Madarame and Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. The only two people at the table who were adamant about wanting to fight him again. Ikkaku, at least, was patient, even if it stemmed from his Captain having first dibs on a rematch with Ichigo.
Ichigo glanced around the table at all the other inhabitants as he took his seat. Not all of the thirteen divisions were represented. The Lieutenants for the Fourth and the Seventh were acting Captains at the moment since both Captain Unohana and Captain Komamura had died during the war. Rukia also was acting Captain, following Jushiro Ukitake’s death, though Ichigo suspected she was included in this anyway because of her connection to Karakura.
The Eighth Division was absent as well, since Nanao had moved to the First with Captain Kyoraku and his other lieutenant, Lisa Yadomaru, had taken over the Eighth. Nemu Kurotsuchi, the Lieutenant of the Twelfth, had died during the war. Akon had been named as her replacement, but the Vice-President of the Shinigami Research and Development Institute claimed to be too busy at the moment for socialization. Soi Fon’s Lieutenant in the Second Division had also chosen not to come, saying it was far too plebeian for his status. Knowing nobody actually wanted Omaeda there, his Captain had not insisted.
While Ikkaku and Yumichika Ayasegawa weren’t actually Lieutenants, they’d been doing the job for years. Not to mention, they were Eleventh Division; in that division, the first five ranks were somewhat arbitrary. They would have, undoubtedly, still been in attendance even if Yachiru Kusajishi hadn’t disappeared during the war. Ichigo had heard several Shinigami speculating about what happened to the pink-haired girl right after the battle, though nobody spoke about it around Kenpachi. Not unless they had a death wish. Since Ikkaku and Yumichika had practically been running the division anyway, Ichigo figured that was how it would remain. At least as long as Zaraki was the Kenpachi.
Instead of focusing on who was missing, Ichigo tried to pay attention to who was there. Rangiku Matsumoto was seated beside what would be Nanao’s seat once she’d greeted the last of the guests, wearing a dress that was so low cut it was one sneeze away from an indecent exposure arrest. She was chatting happily with Momo Hinamori, who looked so sweet and demur it was hard to imagine she was one of Rangiku’s closest friends.
Beside Momo was Izuru Kira, who looked too healthy in his gigai to be a dead man, though that’s technically what Ichigo had heard he now was. Or several dead men. Nobody was too clear on any of it except that his body and soul had been put back together by a madman in a battlefield triage attempt to save him. It had, more or less, worked; in his gigai, it was impossible to tell what had been done to him.
Shuhei Hisagi was on his other side, the tattooed Shinigami smiling at Renji in greeting. Ichigo took a moment to notice how gorgeous both men were before sliding his gaze past Rukia and the two empty seats next to her. Ikkaku and Yumichika sat on the other side of him, completing the circle.
Ichigo had barely had a chance to greet Ikkaku before his name was called from the other side of the table. Hisagi was staring at him with a rather pleading expression in his dark eyes. It was a good look for the dark-haired Shinigami, and Ichigo was still trying to decide how long to make him suffer.
“I am so sorry about that article, Ichigo,” he apologized, yet again. At least this time there was an audience for it. “If I’d known it was such a big deal in the World of the Living, I never would have printed it.”
Rangiku spoke up before Ichigo even got a chance. Considering she was half as guilty, she could have sounded at least a bit remorseful. Except, of course, that she was Rangiku, and she had very little shame about anything. “I don’t see why you are so upset about it, Ichigo,” she announced. “Half the Seireitei still wants to have sex with you; at least now it’s the right half.”
“W-what!?” Ichigo spluttered, but he was summarily ignored.
“Rangiku is just happy that she won the bet,” Yumichika declared somewhat irritably.
“Bet!?” Ichigo shouted. “You made a bet on my sexual preferences?!” He tried to yell that bit more quietly, the words coming out a dangerous growl. Unfortunately, despite the fact that he could probably beat every single one of them in a fight, none of the people at the table had any fear of him. Well, maybe Hinamori, but Ichigo hadn’t had much interaction with the quiet woman, and her experiences during the war against Aizen made her a bit fearful of everything.
“I wasn’t the only one,” Rangiku justified with a pout. “Almost all of us here were in on it.”
“I wasn’t!” Momo denied quickly. “I was still in the hospital when it started.”
“Nor was I,” Nanao said primly. “It is unprofessional to bet on the sex lives of your colleagues.” A moment later she added, “Plus, I was not informed of it.”
“Who the hell started a betting pool about my sex life?!” Ichigo demanded, directing the question at Yumichika, since at least he’d been willing to tell him there was a bet in the first place.
“It’s so ugly to point fingers,” Yumichika sighed. He rolled his head, though, so his feathered gaze landed on Rukia and Renji.
Ichigo turned towards his two best friends with a scowl. Both of them were leaning away from him, guilt written all over their faces.
“Rukia started it,” Renji blurted out, having absolutely no problem throwing his girlfriend under the bus.
Rukia gasped, seeming truly offended that he would. At least, that’s what Ichigo thought until she rounded on the redhead. “You are such a liar, Renji Abarai!” she yelled. “All I said that was Ichigo was less bothered than I thought a teenage boy would be about a girl living in his closet. You were the one to open your big mouth and say, ‘I bet Ichigo just likes guys.’ I did not start the bet!”
“In my defense, it was the only way I could imagine him not going crazy being around you,” Renji argued, and Ichigo was a little annoyed that he was sucking up to Rukia but not to him.
Instead of trying to push his indignation, Ichigo just buried his blushing face in his hands. “I hate all of you assholes,” he declared from behind them.
“Good,” a familiar, gruff voice declared. “That means I’m in the right fucking place.”
Ichigo groaned inwardly as he peaked through his fingers at the speaker, knowing who he was going to see even before he did. The voice, really, was unmistakable, and it featured in far too many of his fantasies for Ichigo to admit. Seeing him standing there in a gigai, looking like sin personified instead of the incarnation of destruction that he truly was, did nothing to quell the massive fucking crush he had on the Hollow.
On the plus side, he could lower his hands now since all the blood had drained from his face upon seeing the former Espada there. He gave the blue-haired man a subtle once over, checking out how he looked in the straight-cut jeans that hugged muscular thighs and the tight, white v-neck shirt.
Good, was the answer, unfortunately. He looked too damned good.
“Grimmjow,” Ichigo greeted in a low snarl. The rest of the conversation in the room seemed to stop as the two locked eyes. It lasted all of two seconds before Ichigo was tackled out of his seat by a sea-foam blur.
“Itsygo!” Nelliel cried as she hugged him to her ample bosom, uncaring that his face was squished uncomfortably in her cleavage. After a few moments of struggling to breathe, he started patting the Arrancar on the shoulder, trying to get her to let up.
“How certain were you of your sources, Shuhei?” he heard Yumichika ask with amusement.
“He tapped out too quickly,” Rangiku argued. “It’s definitely true.”
“I think I have to go with Rangiku on this one,” the journalist replied, no doubt because he wouldn’t mind death by mammary suffocation himself, considering his crush on the other Lieutenant.
Ichigo let his arms flop to the floor, going completely limp as he accepted his fate. Death was bound to be preferable to whatever embarrassment the rest of the night had in store for him.
“Calm your tits, Nelliel,” Grimmjow ordered as he physically lifted the girl off of Ichigo. “The only one allowed to kill Kurosaki is me.”
And fuck his life if that didn’t just make him horny.
*************