AN: Hey guys, Vigilant Sempai here with another story, this time a Bleach- Fate/Stay Night crossover. Before we start I feel I should say that, unlike pretty much everything else that I write about, I am not super knowledgeable about the Type Moon Fandom. I've only watched Fate/Stay Night and I know that that is only one of the possible outcomes for the Fifth Grail War.

Honestly that shit is broken.

Now I took several liberties with Bleach, namely Ichigo's age and what school he'd in. While he's still fifteen, initially, and he still lives in Karakura, the story is going to take place right after he exits middle school. Basically, I'm cramming Ichigo's meeting with Rukia to the start of his third year in middle school and letting the series continue normally from there on until after he loses his powers. After that, Xcusion isn't going to wait seventeen months to contact Ichigo, instead it's only going to be one month.

I know it's pretty big changes, but I wanted Ichigo to have time mixing with the elements from the Type-Moon verse, and interact with key people.

Anyway, now that we have my changes out of the way, please read and enjoy. Fair warning though, this story is going to be slow.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or Fate/Stay Night. I do not make any money from this

If I were the rain…

That binds together the Earth and the Sky, whom in all eternity will never mingle…

Would I be able to bind two hearts together?

(-Tite Kubo)

Monday, February 17th, 2014

It was the guitar that caught Ichigo's eye. It wasn't particularly impressive, with a visible tarnish and wear on it even through the display glass, but it still drew his attention. He didn't know much about guitars only a couple of cords that Chad managed to teach him, and the fact that it was actually pretty hard to play, at least initially. It sat in a display case, an old school record player on it's right, and two mannequins dressed in mismatched clothes on it left.

He paused, deftly step siding the woman who had been walking behind him as he glanced up at the sign that hung above the door.

Ricky's Pawn and Parts.

Another sign hung on the glass. 'Out-of-business sale! Buy one, get two free.' It was a square building, made out of grey stone with a single large display windows on either side of the wooden door. After reading the sign Ichigo felt kind of curious about the place, and, once he glanced up at the grey English sky above him, made his way inside.

Ichigo's first though when he stepped inside was that it was warm, significantly warmer than the February winds outside, and immediately started unzipping his jacket. The majority if the shop was taken up by racks of clothes of all shapes and sizes. In the back of the store, from what he could see, was dedicates to random knickknacks, while directly to his right he was an odd assortment of antique pieces of technology, mostly polaroid cameras, that came straight from the early to mid 80's. The middle of the right wall was taken up by a couple of cash registers, though he couldn't see anybody working in the store.

The teen made his way further into the store, glancing at the clothes on the racks as he passed. There was some pretty good things in the store, hidden behind scores of mediocre products that were obviously worn. He had just come across a hat that looked like it had been worn on Sherlock Holmes' head when a voice sounded out behind him.

"Can'na help yah?"

It had been more than two months since Ichigo's last fight, and even longer before then, but he had lived his life constantly fighting the thugs in Karakura and in the surrounding towns, and so, was still constantly primed. Whirling around, the teen clenched his fist, arm muscles tensing as he prepared to throw a punch, but managed to stop himself once he realised that he didn't see anybody behind him.

Confusion quickly overcame his shock and surprise. Was he just hearing things? Or maybe it was a ghost. Probably not, he always saw the ghosts whenever he heard them. Plus he didn't even have his powers and he would have known if he even got a small portion of them back. His eyes slowly roved around the store, checking for any disturbances or anything out of place but couldn't fi-

"Oi!" A voice yelled, causing Ichigo to jump. "Down 'ere ya o're grown weed!" His eyes immediately found the source of the noise, the source causing Ichigo to deadpan at having been scared.

She was short, over five feet tall but by no more than three inches. A nest of curly red hair rested in her head, falling down to her just below her shoulders, though he was sure that it would go well down her back at its full length. Freckles spotted her cheeks and bridged over a small button nose and up onto her forehead. Her lips were set in an indignant line, and her grey eyes were boring into him with barely suppressed anger.

A small silence spread between the two before Ichigo spoke.

"Sorry, I looked right over you," he said in english.

"Ya fuckin' o'er grown bastard!" She shouted as she kicked the teen in the shin, causing Ichigo to hop around on one leg while clutching the other.

"The hell was that for!?" he yelled angrily gingerly letting his leg back down onto the floor.

"Ya joked 'bout me height!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"If I was going to make fun of your height, I'd call you a shorty!" His comment got him another kick in the shin and a front seat to the creation of some colourful curse words. Ichigo was about to retort (making a guess at to what kind of creatures her parents were) but managed to master himself enough to not insult the girl. "I just wanna buy the guitar," he groused out, wondering if he could get away with kicking a midget in the face while in a foreign country.

Surprisingly enough the brute's demeanour changed from fiery anger, to inquisitive. "Ya play?" Ichigo nodded slowly, wary of her quick change. The girl hummed eyeing him. "Ah dunno. It's me ol' guitar. Ah won't give em to jus' anyone."

He didn't real play, but Chad had told him about keeping the instrument in good condition. It wasn't like he was gonna fight super hard to get the guitar, it had been a completely spur of the moment decision and he was already regretting coming into the store. But it was almost a matter of pride now, he wasn't just gonna leave because of some short short-tempered girl decided to kick him in the shins. Kurosaki Ichigo wouldn't be run off that easily.

The redhead looked at him for several seconds before grunting and glancing away. "Fine, ya gonna get anyting else?"

Ichigo shrugged. "I don't know. I'm going to look around." The girl grunted and walked away, and Ichigo took the time to take a watch her make her way to the front of the store before heading deeper into the back. The rear of the store was surprisingly more diverse than he thought it'd be. There was a small section of bookshelves that contained well worn books that Ichigo took a couple minutes perusing before moving to the other and moved to the more interesting part of the back: a weapons section.

Most of the stuff there was old and probably wouldn't work unless they had a major cleaning and maintenance job done. About half of it was firearms: flintlock pistols, repeater rifles, old bayonets, and even a couple of bows that looked that looked like they would break if anyone tries to pull the string. The teen mostly ignored them, instead focusing on the other sections of the weapons part: the swords.

Having been a shinigami, Ichigo developed quite an eye and interest for swords. While he couldn't discern anything in depth like whoever created said sword and what era they lived in and the technique used to make the sword, he could tell the difference between a sword that was mass produced and one that took time to make. Most of the swords that were on display, while sharp and straight (basic qualities necessary in a sword), were flimsy and would undoubtedly chip and break in a fight. And while that was possible for all swords, the probability of it happening was undoubtedly higher just by the sheer mediocrity of the blades. Most of the swords were simple broadswords that the english were known for, though he did spot a single curved sword that the ancient Egyptians were known to use, and even two japanese swords in sheaths.

Naturally, he took a look at those two.

The first was a typical katana with a black sheath with gold designs on it, too small and condensed for Ichigo to get a good idea of what the symbols were without a long and close look. The sword itself lacked a tsuba and the wooden hilt didn't have the typical tsuka-ito that other katana's did, so the sword looked like a long stick when it was sheathed. Grasping the hilt, Ichigo unsheathed the blade slightly, gazing over the surprisingly pristine blade with a newfound respect for it. While the blade wasn't anything overly impressive it still was a better blade than the others he had seen.

The blade was darker in color than the typical light grey of steel, with a slight curve, and wickedly sharp looking edge. He could see part of his reflection on the blade;a small lock of orange hair falling over the bridge of his nose and two light brown eyes that stared back at him. He stared for a bit, before huffing slightly and sheathing the sword again and set it back in his stand. Before picking up the next one, a kodachi.

Unlike the katana, the sheath for the blade was simple, wood dyed black, and the hilt possessed both a tsuba, slightly dulled bronze, and black wrappings for the tsuka-ito. It looked simple, and, at a glance, Ichigo was almost positive that the blade would be of the same quality as the one he'd looked at below, so he had to gasp in surprise when he unsheathed the full blade.

He knew he wasn't an expert on swords, but anybody who took any interest in swords knew about the distinguished ripple pattern of the processes of 'folding' when it came to sword forging. He had once been told that the swords of all captain level shinigami in Soul Society had the distinct pattern as a symbol of reaching the captain level status needed, and apparently symbolised the connection one had to their soul. The blade, while short, was beautiful with grey steel with an almost bluish tint to it, with the tail tell tipple pattern of a high quality blade. As he gazed at it, Ichigo was almost sure that he saw several distinct sections on the blade.

All in all it was the best blade he ever laid eyes on that wasn't from Soul Society and left him curious as to how it was stuck in the back of a pawn shop in England and not in some museum somewhere.

He gazed at the blade for a couple of seconds contemplating whether he should get the blade or not before quickly deciding against it. Not only would he provably not be able to afford it, seeing as it was an awesome sword, but he was probably unable to carry a sword around in a foreign country at the age of fifteen.

Not to mention he'd have to explain why he had a sword to his family while they were packing, and to the airport security as well.

Reluctantly he set the blade back into its slot on the stand before turning and heading back to the small section of books.

'It's a good thing I don't get it,' he told himself as he absentmindedly perused some medical books. 'Swords are for a different time, a different me. It'll just lead to painful memories…' He grasped a book at random, a worn leather bound one, pulling it from the shelf and flipped it open to skim the contents. At first glance, it looked like a journal and Ichigo was about to set it back in its place on the shelf when he saw a roughly drawn diagram of a chemical reaction along with several complicated equation.

He flipped to the front intrigued, skimming the entry and contents, noting several reference to medicine and procedures that he knew were commonplace before modern technology came around. His interest piqued Ichigo started read several lines from the bottom.

'... and while the procedure for Jenkins was a success, the inconsistencies and difficulties that the staff were presented with by Mr. Jenkins person before my timely arrival leaves me curious and almost wonting. I had to use a higher form of understanding of the human body to correctly and accurately, diagnose and isolate the clot that would have killed the mister. The success of the operation leaves me with the desire to complete my own works, for it has only encouraged my beliefs that the answers lies within.

~H.J.

P.s. The voices have stopped for the time being, but only by injections directly to the blood and then only for 48 hours. I theorize dilution to the solution and increase the dosages would increase longevity.'

That was interesting. Ichigo had lived his life in an emergency clinic, and while it was rare that there was an emergency, he wasn't unfamiliar with helping his dad with a client. Something his father had done only because he had expressed his desire to be a doctor. Nothing serious, just a couple of check ups on young patients starting a few years ago, and a couple of bone settings and stitches. Just by reading the end of the entry, Ichigo was sure that he was reading the diary of a long dead doctor. The book could be helpful, seeing as it would give him a firsthand understanding of the life of a doctor, but also knowledge on what he would have to go through, possibly. Not to mention the diagram that he had seen he was sure he could crack by going over his chemistry books.

Tucking the book under his arm, Ichigo made his way to the cash register snagging a white scarf with orange lions on it as he went. Yuzu would like it. The redhead was already behind the counter, reading a thick looking book while she waited for him. She must have heard him approaching, as she looked up before he got close enough to clear his throat polighty.

"Find everyt'ing ya want?" she asked. Ichigo, seeing the guitar off the the side half out of it's case, nodded.

"Yeah," he said placing the book and scarf on the counter. How much do I owe you?"

"25 pounds," she replied, causing Ichigo to wince internally. That would nearly wipe him out of what he had on him, and he'd be forced to ask his dad for money later. His only saving grace was that he was still within walking distance of the hotel that he and his family had been staying at for the last month.

Hesitating only slightly, Ichigo fished out his wallet, and passed over the money. He watched as she counted it, before grunting, this time in satisfaction, and stuffing it in the register. She quickly zipped the guitar case shut and hefted it up by a strap and handed it over to him. "Thank you, please come again, she said blandly.

Ichigo nodded. Right. He grabbed the guitar, zipped up his jacket, slipping the book/journal into an internal pocket, before swinging the instrument onto his back and wrapping the scarf around his neck. "Thanks," he grunted before heading toward the door and outside into the cold English air.

"Ichigo."

The teen started from his position on his temporary bed. It was night now, and it had been several hours since he had any time to himself. Yuzu true to form had bombarded him with questions on his whereabouts as soon as he stepped into the hotel, then had glomped him when he gave her the scarf, talking in the rapid pace that only girls were capable of. Karin, in a moment of uncharacteristic childishness, had pouted slightly and asked where her present was. Having been forced to confess that he didn't have one, Ichigo spent the next several hours helping Karin practice football (soccer for those Americans out there) in a nearby park. When they got back, he hadn't been given a respite, Yuzu convinced him to help her with dinner. He had then been stuck at the table with his man-child father who had taken to attempting to attack him even while eating. After scarfing down his food, Ichigo had begged off to his room for a shower and some time alone. He'd managed to get through the shower unaccosted (thank the gods for small mercies) but had only been reading for five minutes when his name had been called.

The journal that he was reading, the one he picked up from the pawn shop, was actually quite vexing with the older english writing and vague references to a different 'higher' type of understanding Ichigo was actually getting slightly temperamental. It was only the fact that he was so good at english and was use to the older, almost Shakespearean speak from said man's works, that he was able to make heads or tails if anything. And even then he had too constant backtrack and double check his understanding of what was written before. And he hadn't even gotten to any if the medical/ chemical diagrams yet! He'd have to take notes in a notebook to keep it all straight.

His dad stood in the doorway, messy black hair and scrubby goat-chin and all, looking uncharacteristically serious. He squirmed under Ichigo's gaze, something he'd been doing for a month-and-a-half now, fiddling with the hem of his white shirt for a couple of seconds before shoving his hands into his jeans, signing.

A silence stretched between the two, growing longer than necessary. It would have gone on if Ichigo hadn't sighed in exasperation.

"What do you want, goat-chin?" he asked into the silence. He watched as his father flinched and turned his head to look outside the window. A light rain, for England, was falling making the yellow light from the street lamps look like balls of fire from their water-distorted view.

Isshin sighed again. "How was your day, son?"

"Fine," he replied, eyebrow raised. His father had never really taken an interest in Ichigo's everyday life, preferring to check up on him every couple of months, while filling the time in between with flying fists and feet. Something was wrong, and Ichigo was sure he wasn't going to like what he found out.

"Just fine?" Isshin asked a sly smile growing on his face. "It took you awhile to get back to our room, maybe you found a girl…" An image if the angry demon-redhead from the pawn shop flashed into his mind, and Ichigo had to resist the urge to scowl. That would just prove his father right, no matter how wrong he was.

"What do you want, old man?" Ichigo snapped without much heat. "I'm trying to read here."

Isshin's face grew serious again and he pulled out a silver card from his pocket. A credit card, Ichigo realized just before Isshin flicked it at him. The younger Kurosaki caught it on reflex, glaring at his dad.

"The hell is this for?" the teen asked, ready to verbally, and physically, rip his father a new one, but was halted by his next words.

"It's from Soul Society." The room was suddenly deadly still and silent, and Ichigo tunnel-visioned onto Isshin. "It's supposed to be a gift in recognition of your service as a Substitute Shinigami, and all you've done for Soul Society. There's a lot of money on there."

"I don't want money!" Ichigo snapped, this time very much heated. He hadn't done anything for money. All he ever done was fight to protect his friends, his family. It wasn't because he wanted some cash or recognition, but because he didn't actually have a choice in the matter. And now they wanted to say 'thanks' even though they hadn't been there when he needed them? Even when he was there whenever they were in a situation that they couldn't get themselves out of!? He didn't want the money, dammit! He wanted his pow-

An empty, aching pain in his chest resurfaced. A pain that was constantly there; a pain that he was used to ignoring so well that the only time he remembered it was there was when he was forced to look at it as he was now. Forced to stare into the empty gaping hole that was his soul; a hole that represented all that he had lost: his mother, his powers, friends, allies, his powers…

It had always been there, like a hollow-hole that couldn't be seen by anyone, human or shinigami, but now it was growing, and he felt as if he was having his chain-of-fate eaten again, only this time it was constantly, and there was no end within sight.

"I don't want it," the orange haired teen said, moving to throw it back at his father who lifted his hands up in surrender to stop him.

"You don't gotta," he said. "But it up to you to do with it what you will. Keep it, throw it away, cut it up, shit, give it to a homeless person for all I care, but it's your's. You gotta do whatever you want with it, not me." The black haired man turned to leave pausing when his hand touched the handle. "I'm proud of you, just so you know."

He left after that, closing the door soft behind him. Ichigo glared at the door, then at the card in his hands, then at the book on the bed and grunted angrily. Tossing the card onto the nightstand, the teen snapped the book shut; he wouldn't be able to read any more tonight. He stood from the bed and started pacing, crossing from one end of the room to the other, thinking heavily.

He really didn't want to keep the card, not only was it a hollow, impersonal gift, but it wasn't even a gift. Not really. Others might see it as what his father said, a thank you for cleansing hollows and fighting traitorous captains, bounts and a plethora of other enemies, but he knew what it really was.

An apology.

He didn't have to do what he did. After he had defeated Aizen, they (the shinigami) had realized just how much they had been slacking and how much of that slack he was picking up. He didn't have to clean up hollows in Karakura town, there was a shinigami there for that. He didn't have to invade Soul Society to save Rukia and subsequently expose Aizen as a traitor, Rukia probably would have been released once Aizen's manipulations had been revealed, yet still he did. He didn't have to be the vanguard that went to Hueco Mundo, when they could have gotten off their collective asses and done what needed to be done.

And most of all, he didn't have to give up his powers to defeat Aizen. He could have just let the madman make the Soul Key or whatever and be done with it.

If only he hadn't involved Karakura town.

If only he hadn't involved Orihime and his friends.

If only he hadn't involved his sisters.

But, in the end, Aizen had, and he was forced to pick up the slack of the shinigami that had deteriorated since the time of Old Man Yamamoto and Ukitake apparently.

He sighed in frustration, focusing on the irritating emotion to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest whenever he thought about anything Shinigami related. He'd check and see how much money was on the card tomorrow, he decided, but right now he needed something to distract him. His eyes landed on the book again but he quickly discarded that idea. He wasn't in the mood for medical reading/ english deciphering. He could always go to sleep, but the thought was tossed out as soon as it came. Sleep ment dreams, and dreams ment remembering, something he didn't want. His eyes landed on the guitar that rested in the corner, and Ichigo felt his lips twitch upwards.

Why the hell not?

Tuesday, February 18th, 2014

£20,721,674. 21

Ichigo nearly choked on his saliva when he saw the number, probably would have too, if he wasn't so dumbstruck by the absurdly high number. How in the hell did Soul Society even get Human World currency? And why the hell was that number so absurdly high!? There was no way that killing all those hollows were worth that much money!

The orange-haired teen quickly regained his senses, at least for someone in his position, and ejected his card from the ATM machine making sure that the information was wiped off the digital screen before he turned and started walking down the street in a random direction. It was noon, the day after he had gotten his card and Ichigo had been allowed to sleep in. His father had pulled the twins out early to go sight seeing and help Karin, who still had troubles speaking english fluently, perfect her speech. Now he was walking down some street, slightly delirious about the phenomenon he had just witnessed.

He turned into a random shop, thoughts still a whirlwind as he let his feet lead him. What in the hell was he suppose to do with all that money? Presents for Karin and Yuzu were sure to be expensive in the future, but what else? Sure he could use it to get a car or something or save for his inevitable college debt, but that would probably raise some red flags somewhere in the world government, and if not there then definitely to his sisters. If they started asking too many questions and pestering him enough, he'd eventually be found out if he didn't fold under the power of their combined puppy dog eyes (by the gods was that a fearsome technique). He shuddered at the thought.

Karin would be conservative enough about it, exploiting his wealth sparingly but in large quantities.

Yuzu though…

Ichigo shuddered again. The amount of stuffed animals and ice cream he'd be forced to buy would undoubtedly leave him as poor as before.

Idly Ichigo wondered if he could travel the world, causing him to blink in momentary surprise at the stray thought, that actually had some merit to it. Despite how dower he had been over the last month, his time in England had been extremely enjoyable, and Ichigo could honestly say that he would look back on his time on the rainy island fondly, in spite of the dark occurrence that caused this whole vacation in the first place.

"Can I help you sir?"

The orange haired teen snapped back into reality, looking around quickly realizing he was in a café by the earthy smell in the air and warm atmosphere. Turning back to the woman in front of him, a willowy blonde, Ichigo cleared his throat. "Right, could I get some hot chocolate?" he asked.

"What size would you like?" the girl asked, pressing the screen in front of her several times.

"A medium." The girl nodded, pressing some more on the screen before telling him a price, but Ichigo just handed her his new card. One swipe later and Ichigo was standing off to the side waiting for his drink.

He had never really given any thought to traveling the world. Sure, there had been a couple conversations on the roof of his school during lunch where the guys had spoken about all the places they had wanted to go (they had stopped when Keigo said he wanted to go to the nudist beaches in France) and he probably would have given it more thought, but then Rukia had appeared and-

"Oi, move it carrot-top!"

Ichigo instinctively frowned, cursing how everyone seemed to think it was okay to address him by his hair color. Turning to give the offending person a piece of his mind, maybe even throwing in a couple Japanese insults, the teen pulled up short at seeing the empty space. Was he hearing things? Or maybe ghosts? No, he was always able to see ghosts whenever he heard them. A sense of dêja vu hit Ichigo, literally, when a foot connected to his shin.

"Down 'ere ya walkin' fruit!"

Forcing himself to not react to the pain in his leg, Ichigo slowly lowered his gaze until he found himself looking into indignant face of the girl from yesterday. Her hair was just as fiery and untamed and her face was flushed a slight red, either from her time in the cold English air or from high emotions.

"Oh, it's you," he said getting another kick to his shin for his troubles, in the same spot as before.

"Don' 'it's ya' me!" She replied. "Get atta ta way."

Ichigo grit his teeth against the sudden spike in pain. What the hell was with this girl? You don't kick someone you just met, no matter how annoying they are to you. At least he waited a full week before he started clotheslining Keigo for the first time. His mouth opened, ready to deliver a scathing retort but he was cut off before he could even start.

"Stop it, Millie," another voice said, causing both Ichigo and the now named Millie to turn to see the blond server approaching with a cup in her hands. "You're causing a scene. You can wait outside if you want to flirt with your boyfriend."

Ichigo's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the girl's audacious statement. Opening his mouth to deny her statement, the orange-haired teen was cut off again by an angry yell.

"Tis pretty boy ain't my boyfriend," she yelled, kicking Ichigo in his shin again.

In.

The.

Exact.

Same.

Spot.

Ichigo let out a groan, that sounded more like a threatening growl, glaring at the seething demon next to him. Could he get away with killing her? Probably not, but jail didn't sound half as bad as it did before he met the infuriating redhead. No, he couldn't kill her. Not yet at least. There were too many people around… unless he wanted to get rid of all the witnesses as well.

Maybe he could get away with claiming it was self-defense.

"Your drink,sir."

Giving one last scowl to his small attacker, Ichigo grabbed his hot chocolate and left a slight limp in his walk. He didn't even get two sips into his silent seething when an increasingly familiar voice called out to him from behind.

"Oi, mistah Orange!"

Ichigo slowed to a stop, breathing deeply to master himself. This girl really was trying to get on his nerves. Still, the Japanese were a polite people, and no matter how much of a delinquent people thought he was, he still at least listened when people had something to say to him. Sometimes.

He turned fixing the girl with a blank scowl. "Yes?"

Her face showed naked surprise for a second, before quickly morphing into a slight frown. "Yer new to ta area, ain't cha?"

Well that was true enough, so Ichigo nodded, a single eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Ya seen ta sights yet?"

Now Ichigo was really curious. Not only was the monster-child being nice (at least as nice as she could be) to him, but was actually holding a conversation with him that didn't involve her kicking him in the shin. For a second, Ichigo toyed with the thought that it was some type of scam, but quickly discarded it. No scam would start with kicking people in the leg and then gaining their trust.

Actually… that would be a pretty good con.

Still, he couldn't help but doubt that she was trying to pull something over his eyes, just by looking at her. Dressed in a green jacket, jeans ripped on her thighs and shins, and sneakers while standing hands on hip and head cocked to the side slightly. Couple with her demure stature, she was about the most nonthreatening person he probably ever seen. But then again Rukia and Hiyori had been little devils that looked like a fifteen year old girl and a short, angry, blond-haired mop (respectively). What really got him to reply was her stormy grey eyes. They were way too open for there to be anything but sincerity in there.

"A couple," he replied, into the silence that had stretched between them while he had been scrutinising her. "I'm here on vacation with my family."

"Yeh?" She questioned. "Where ya from?"

Ichigo took a sip of his hot chocolate, turning to start walking again. "Japan." He kept walking for a couple of seconds stopping when he didn't hear her footsteps. Turning around he saw her still in the same spot looking at him, a peculiar expression on her face. "You coming?"

He didn't know who was more surprised at the offer, him or her, but he didn't really dwell on it. He was pretty much going to be alone for the whole day, and she had made the effort to stop him, so he might as well take a chance. Sure his shin still throbbed, but she wouldn't be the first temperamental midget he had ever hung around.

The girl, Millie, stared at him for a couple more seconds, before grinning slightly and making her way over. "Japan ya say? Ya speak english pretty good."

He took a sip from his steaming cup to cover up the fact he had opened his mouth to correct her grammar, using that time to formulate a response. "I read a lot of Shakespeare," he said turning once again to walk, before glancing over at the girl again. "I'm Ichigo, by the way."

She nodded. "Millie."

Tuesday, February 25th,2014

Ichigo found himself thoroughly enjoying himself the week he met Millie, marking it as the most fun he'd had in years, not that he ever tell her. She'd either hold it over his head or take it the wrong way and kick him in the shin.

The days following their encounter at the café, Millie had kept true to her offer and had taken him all over London to see the major tourist attractions as well as several smallest ones. The small redhead was surprisingly a wealth of information on history. And not just English, but Middle Eastern, Chinese, and even Japanese. Traveling around the city with her led to Ichigo obtaining several small nuggets of information that were pretty interesting.

She had even taken him out to Glastonbury Abbey, the rumoured resting place of King Arthur, two days ago, which had been a pretty cool experience, despite the several hour long train ride.

They had learned a lot about each other, as was to be expected when meeting new people. Mille was, funnily enough, almost two years older than him (though she refused to tell him her birthday), and was a junior in highschool, the equivalent of his high school second year. She had nearly had a heart attack when he had told her he was still fifteen (and just to spite her a little, he hadn't told her when his birthday was). She was an only child, and her parents had died years ago, leaving her in the custody of her infirm grandfather who was currently rather sick with a mysterious illness.

Apparently they didn't have the money to get him properly diagnosed, and were hoping that he would pull through long enough for Millie to get to her eighteenth birthday. When Ichigo had offered for him or his dad to take a look, Millie had refused, saying that he had made his peace. He had learned early on that she was more stubborn than him on certain things, and so he didn't push too hard.

Ichigo sighed, pulling his thoughts back to the notebook in front of him. He had finally managed to get through a good portion of the journal (that just happened to be frustratingly sparse on the author's name past H.J.), and had finally come across the first scientific equation, or rather a list of ingredients with numbers, presumably amounts needed. It was all rather simple minerals, salts mostly, with a single solvent to act as the base. Next to the journal sat several sheets of paper where he had attempted to figure out the correct equation to see if it would work. Luckily for him, chemistry was something he was rather good at and it only took him five sheets of paper to figure out the correct quantities, that while similar to the ones detailed in the journal, still made a difference. Ichigo knew that if the slightest mistake was made when making any chemical solution could lead to drastic changes, from making an acid to even causing an explosion, which had him worried as the original owner of the journal had been drinking the incorrect solution.

Frowning, the orange-haired teen turned from his own equations and back to H.J.'s journal which had been left open to read the passage again.

'The above listed is the original minerals I first accumulated, as well as the total grams used in each successful concoction creation. The solution still grants me a certain measure of hesitance, as the solvent has been known to be corrosive in impure and unregulated doses. Still, despite my worry, the solution continues to be a successful concoction, and I find my once deep seated concerns rapidly fading away.

The continued success of the concoction, which I now dub the H-1 solution as it would be tedious continuing to scribe concoction, had allowed me valuable time to pursue several other fields of study. I have taken this chance to, first, study and analyze the human body with a higher understanding, and have recently taken a chance to put theory into practice. Significant improvement was immediately recognised. Not only was operation time drastically decreased, but Mr. Thomas shows absolutely zero signs of ever having been sick!

My colleagues managed, rather impressively in fact, to offer congratulations and praise through their jealousy and bewilderment. Lanyon even gone as far to say-'

Ichigo's phone suddenly started ringing, causing him to start a little. Recognising the number after a second, Ichigo carefully set the business card he had been using as a bookmark in place, he picked up the phone swiping the screen quickly.

"Yo, Millie," he started, grinning slightly. "Shouldn't you be-"

"Ichigo."

He stopped, the light glow that had bloomed in his chest dimming as he scowled. She never called him by his name. Whenever she had to talk to him she always called him 'ya o'er grown weed' or something equally insulting, but never had she called him Ichigo. Not only that but her voice had been thick and rough and, dare he say, hesitant.

"Ichigo," she said again, followed by a sniffle, something that made Ichigo frown deepen. "C-" she stopped once again, sniffling.

"Where are you," he asked, making a quick decision.

"... Ta café."

"I'll be right there, don't move."

" 'Kay."

Ending the call, Ichigo stood, placing his phone on his desk and heading over to the dresser. It was one in the afternoon, but he hadn't expected to leave the room for another hour-and-a-half at the earliest so he was still in his sleep wear. Not even five minutes later he was fully dressed, phone and wallet pocketed and his hood pulled over his head. He slipped a keycard off the kitchen counter as he passed before shoving his feet into his shoes and bending over to tie them.

"I'm heading out for a bit," he called to Karin who was the only one in at the moment beside him. "I'll be back before it gets too late."

A distant okay was his reply, but that was all Ichigo needed to hear and he set out.

-斬月-

He found Millie in back of the café, in the booth furthest into the store. Even from a distance Ichigo could tell her hair was more unruly than usual. Scowling harder, Ichigo slipped between the tables intent on getting to his clearly distraught friend. Under similar circumstances in a different time, he would have stopped dead in his tracks, startled and uncomfortable at calling the feisty redhead a friend after only a week of knowing her. But that was before Gingō and Xcution happened. Before his father had started treating him like glass, and before his friends-

She noticed him as he stepped next to the table, and Ichigo quickly noticed how depleted she looked. She was leaning against the wall, hunched slightly into herself, arms wrapped around her midriff, fingers digging into the flesh of her sides through the crease of her school uniform. She turned her head slightly, red rimmed eyes instinctively finding the nearest presence, and Ichigo inwardly cursed when she stiffened like a cornered animal.

When his sisters had gone through their own grieving process, the teen had become rather adept at noticing his females reacted when someone attempted to comfort them. Yuzu was a clingy cryer, holding onto Ichigo or her twin in a vice-like grip until her tears ran their course and she fell asleep where she could snuggle up to the warmest thing in the immediate vicinity. Karin,on the other hand, was a bottle-er. She took everything in, letting it pass her by, never really getting angry or frustrated, until she reacher her limit. Usually, she got angry and started shouting and throwing things until her anger burned away, but on the rare occasions that she broke down and cried, she always tried to stop her tears as soon as possible while shying away from contact but melting as soon as he wrapped her up in his arms.

If Ichigo was a betting man, he would have pegged Millie as a 'Karin,' shying away from contact but internally, desperately craving it. But then again, there were people like Tatsuki, who actually hated people touching them when they broke down. Millie could very well be a person like that, judging just by the way she reacted to seeing him. But then why would she call him? Not to mention all the times she had instinctively grabbed his arm and pulled him somewhere or even kicked him. Should he take the chance? Would their budding friendship if did? What if he didn't?

All this raced through his mind in the second after their eyes meet and Ichigo abruptly came to a decision.

Better to try and fail, than to not try at all.

He quickly slipped into her side of the booth, skidding in about halfway before reaching out and pulling her to his chest. She stiffened even more under his touch, and for a single everlasting instant, Ichigo had assumed he was wrong and she would start screaming at him, but she didn't. She stilled, becoming stiff as a board, before she relaxed and molded herself to him as she buried her face into his shoulder in an attempt to stifle her sobs. She shook in his arms, but he just tightened his arms around her gently rubbing her back, staying silent all the while.

It took a while for Millie to calm down, her tears soaking through his hoodie, but he didn't really care about it, focusing more on the obviously distraught girl in his arms. Something big had happened, and the orange-haired teen had a pretty good guess of what. He was sure that he and Millie were getting odd looks from the customers in the café, but he ignored them, instead he focused on soothing the redhead in his arms and letting her have her time to collect herself.

Slowly, her sobs quieted and her body stopped shaking. He felt her take a deep breath, exhaling shakily, before taking another. The process repeated itself over and over again until she was breathing (relatively) normally. It was several minutes later, when he felt her sigh and press closer to him that he realized she'd fallen asleep. Amused slightly, despite himself, Ichigo let her sleep for a couple of minutes before waving over a waitress.

"How can I help, sir?" She asked her voice politely lowered. Something, Ichigo was grateful for.

"Can I get a glass of warm milk?" He requested, his voice equally lowered. "And some honey?" For some weird reason, the waitress smiled brightly, as if he had paid her a huge compliment, before nodding and heading off. Curious, but not too intrigued, Ichigo watched her for a moment before glancing down at his sleeping friend, who looked admittedly adorable when she wasn't scowling at him.

The drink he requested came soon enough, complete with a bottle of honey, shaped like a bear, and a spoon. Lips twitching slightly, Ichigo, careful not to jostle Millie to consciousness, slid the drink closer to him, popped the tab on the honey and poured a generous amount into the milk. He had learned pretty early that Millie had a sweet tooth that could rival Yuzu on her best (or worse) days. Stirring lightly, he reached out and grabbed a couple of napkins from the dispenser.

"Millie," he said lowly, gently rubbing her back.

She hummed in response.

"Millie," he tried again, smirking slightly. "Millie it's time to get up." She groaned again, but sat up slightly, giving Ichigo room to move. Her grey eyes were staring in incomprehension at the café around her. Gently grasping her chin, Ichigo turned her face to him, using a napkin to wipe away the tears on her still wet cheeks. "Here," he said pulling away and pushing the warm milk into her hands. "Drink."

Millie stared at him more, her eyes slowly wandering to the drink in her hand, before she raised it slowly and sipped lightly. She sighed. He smiled lightly.

A compatible silence fell between them, and even though Ichigo was aware of her side pressed against his, and his arm wrapped around her waist he couldn't bring himself to move. It felt nice, and she hadn't said anything about it. He split his time watching the people through the window on a typical cloudy day, and gazing at Millie. Soon enough, the milk was gone and the sun was setting.

"Grandpa died today."

It was her first words to him since he got there, but he couldn't find it in himself to be surprised. He had known about her infirm guardian, and had come to the conclusion as soon as he heard her voice over the phone. Still he didn't say anything, just gently gave her hip a squeeze, and inhaled deeply, taking in her scent of cinnamon and apples.

Another silence stretched between them.

She broke the silence again. "C-could ya come ta my flat?" She asked hesitantly. "I don't wanna-"

"Yeah."

-斬月-

Ichigo managed to slip inside the hotel room at around two in the morning.

Millie had turned out to be rather clingy when she cried, and as soon as he had gotten her to her flat, she'd broken down again. He didn't fault her for crying; losing anyone, not matter how much time you had in advance to prepare, was hard. He'd cried for days after his mother passed, and Yuzu was inconsolable at the funeral service. Karin had random bouts of depression, and, in spite of his antics, Ichigo had caught his father staring vacantly at the shrine if Kurosaki Masaki on more than a dozen occasions. It had taken years for the Kurosaki family to get to where they were, having their own tears along the way, so Ichigo didn't particularly mind that Millie had left his shirt a wet mess.

He was, admittedly, a little disgruntled when he was forced to leave his hoodie with Millie. She just wouldn't let go of the thing.

Ichigo had spent hours at her loft, conveniently situated above her shop, consoling the redhead before she fell into a fitful sleep only to wake up later and start the process over. Ichigo had taken to cleaning as much of the loft as he could: doing the dishes, sweeping the floor, dusting, organising movies, etc. He didn't pry into anything, not intentionally, but he did notice several journal that had been stuffed into a bookcase next to several trashy romance novels. He remembered thinking Millie didn't seem like one for writing her thoughts down, but then again, she didn't seem like one for teen romance stories.

Surprisingly enough the main room wasn't dark when he entered. Instead it was illuminated by the single light over the oven, casting long dark shadows over the twins who were cuddled together on the couch. His father sat at the table, a mug of something in his hands as he gazed at Ichigo intently. The teen scowled, knowing that if he was back home his dad would have hit him with a flying kick instead, but then again, his father's 'attacks' were becoming more scarce ever since the new year. He was curious as to why Karin and Yuzu weren't in there beds, and why his whole family was out in the main area this late, even if two were asleep.

Movie night, maybe?

"Welcome back, Ichigo," his father said softly, obviously trying not to wake the girls. It was weird hearing his father say the typical Japanese greeting, but Ichigo shrugged it off.

The teen grunted softly in response, placing his keycard on the counter. "Isn't it past your bedtime, goat chin?"

His father made a noise between a huff and a chuckle. "Maybe." He took a sip from his mug. "you were out late." It was a statement, but Ichigo could hear the question in it.

"A friend's grandfather passed," he replied, scowling lightly. "I was helping them out."

His father's expression twisted into something weird; a mixture of amusement, pride and confliction. For some reason, Ichigo didn't like that.

Another sip.

"I… I didn't know you had made friends here in England."

The fifteen year old shrugged. "We met 'bout a week ago, when I got the guitar. We've been hanging out since then."

His father hummed, nodding again as he set the mug on the table and laced his fingers together. His gaze intensified, and Ichigo fought hard to keep his casual, slouched position as he leaned on the counter.

"Are you sure they're safe?" His father's voice was low yet strong in a way Ichigo had only heard once before. "Last time you met new people…"

For a split second, the most fleeting moment in his life, Ichigo was happy, knowing that his father cared about his life and safety. He had known it, his dad was his dad after all, but it was always nice to have confirmation. A warmed flickered in his chest, a remnant of his life with his mother and father when he was younger.

Then, that moment was gone, swept away by the wave of anger Ichigo was hard pressed to suppress.

"I can take care of myself, thanks." His voice was a growl, and a heavy scowl replaced his usual stoic one. Hesitation flashed in his father's eyes but was soon replaced with a steely resolve.

"My son," he started, his voice still low and heavy. He opened his mouth to continue, but visibly stopped himself and sighed. "I know you can, Ichigo, I know you can. But the last time you were out late, and making friends, Xcusion and the fullb-"

"Don't," Ichigo cut his father off, a single hand raised. He knew it was rude to cut off his elders, his parents had drilled that into him and that wasn't even counting for the fact that he had cut off his father, but right now the temporary silence was all that was keeping him from exploding. "Don't bring them into this. This is different and you know that."

"No, I don't!" His father spoke quietly but hotly, betraying his irritation and frustration. "You don't talk to me, Ichigo, and you don't even spend time with your sisters anymore."

The teen nearly growled. Why was the old goat bringing the twins into this? It wasn't like he could go and spill his heart and soul to them! They didn't even know anything about the supernatural other than that ghost exist. Not to mention the fact that their father was some ex-shinigami captain from the afterlife society of the Seireitei, which just so happen to be comprised of super powers shinigami who use swords to purify souls and fight corrupted souls. Oh, and let's not forget that the political structure, or the fact that their older brother fought in a war to preserve the balance of souls!

Yuzu would faint, and Karing would have him sent to an insane asylum.

Ichigo breathed deeply to calm himself, using all his willpower to prevent him from yelling..

"Why," he asked slowly, "would I go to you?" He let the question hang there for a second, taking his his father gobsmack expression. "You let me do everything on my own. I studied by myself. When mom died, I cooked for the family until Yuzu took over. I researched my way through puberty so that when the girls got their first periods I could help them. You left money on the counter and tried to hit me whenever you could. You didn't really help out until we were I'm the fake Karakura town, which, by the way, you still have yet to explain to me."

They sat there in silence for a while, Ichigo seething while his father stared at nothing, pensive and depressed. His father broke the silence first.

"I… I know I haven't been the best father, Ichigo, " he said, his voice choked and heavy. "I try, but… I'm sorry."

Ichigo nearly exploded there.

"You're sorry," he hissed, intent on verbally ripping the man across from him in half, but Karin shifted on the couch from the sudden volume increase. "Sorry doesn't cut it," Ichigo whispered hotly, causing his dad to flinch. "If it was just me, I could overlook it, but do you even know the Twins' hobbies? Did you know Karin's planning on trying out for the football team? Or that Yuzu likes to sing?"

He paused for a second, waiting expectantly. After a second his father shook his head.

"What about their favourite movies? Desserts? Do you know their friends?"

Isshin shook his head again, looking down at the mug on the table for several seconds, before locking eyes with his son's. "You're right, Ichigo. I know you are… and I'm trying to get better. Once we get back home I'll talk to Kisuke, and we can sit down and have a discussion. I'll lay everything out for you."

Ichigo's anger left him, leaving guilt to gnaw at him in it's place. Now it was his turn to glance away and sigh deeply. "Don't bother," he said, shoulders slumping in exhaustion; he suddenly felt very tired.

"W-what?"

"I said don't bother," the teen returned. "I know you're not ready yet, otherwise you would have told me already, and seeing Urahara again would only make me want to punch him in the face." His eyes flickered over to his dad's, seeing the older man give him an uncertain smile. "Besides…"

He trailed off, uncertain of himself, something his father picked up on quickly. "Besides, what, Ichigo?"

The teen averted his eyes again, preoccupying himself with taking in the simple but elegant decor of the hotel room. Should he tell him? It wasn't like it would change anything, and he had been putting off on telling his family for over a month now, and he didn't have much time left to waste. His father really didn't need to know. But on the other hand, he was trying to be a better father, the trip to England and even the talk was proof of that. Plus, no matter how much he disliked certain things about his father's style of parenting, Ichigo's family, Isshin included, had never let him down when needed.

The teen sighed again, running one hand through his orange hair. "I'm not staying in Karakura," he finally stated. A silence stretched between the two again, and before long Ichigo couldn't take it anymore and risked a glance at his father.

Isshin looked hurt and confused, and Ichigo's stomach twisted. "What?" his father asked, his voice hollow. "What do you mean?"

Ichigo shrugged, looking away again. "I graduated from middle school last December, and I had to send out high school applications. After everything that happened, I didn't, I don't, want to stay in Karakura. So I applied to a couple of places, got accepted to a few and decided that I'd like to go to Homurahara Academy in Fuyuki City." Ichigo shrugged again. "Honestly, it has nothing to do with you, just… memories ya'know."

He glanced at Isshin, who was looking at him with the same confused and hurt expression.

"Look," Ichigo said before his father could say anything, "it's been a long day, it's late, and I just dropped a lot on you. Why don't we got to sleep and talk about this in a day or two?"

Isshin's gaze fell to his mug and he grasped it between his two large hands. He nodded sullenly, and Ichigo couldn't help but feel bad at how overwhelmed his father looked.

"I'll take care of the girls," Ichigo said as he pushed himself away from the counter and made his way to the twins. He crouched down, gently untangling their limbs before hoisting Karin into his arms and bringing her to her room she shared with Yuzu. He carefully slide her under the covers, giving her a light kiss on her head before heading back out and repeating the process with Yuzu. With one last glance he closed the door softly behind him.

His father was still at the table, staring absentmindedly into his not-so-steamy mug. The teen made his way to his own room, pausing when he grasped the handle, hesitating only for a second.

"Make sure you get some sleep, old man."

Without looking back he made his way into his room, shutting the door behind him.

Snow was falling heavily, crunching lightly under her feet as she made her way down the street, fiddling with the small card in her pocket. She was in a rather seedy neighborhood, with overly cracked pavement and dimming streetlights. Apartment projects lined the street to her rights, and across the street she could hear the thumping music of a back alley club.

Her destination.

She jogged across the street, taking note of how the group of three smokers on the corner seemed to huddle closer together as she drew near. Not that she could blame them. The buildings lining the street acted as a funnel, guiding the blowing winds down the road to slam into whoever was dumb enough to be outside. She couldn't help but grit her teeth as a particularly hard gust of wind knifed through her jacket, leaching away the small amount of heat she had left. God she hated winter, if only because the wind seemed to make the cold, colder.

She slipped a little as she made her way to the club door, but managed to regain her balance before she broke any teeth on the slush-covered cement. The rain from earlier today had already frozen under the snow, making any walking, or driving, that much more perilous.

The wind gusted harder, making her face and eyes burn. She shoved away the rising feeling of irritation, focusing on her steps to prevent any mishaps from happening on her dangerous journey of twelve more fucking feet to get to the door. She made it, noting the lack of bouncer at the door, but once again couldn't really fault anyone for the decision; it was a bit nippy.

She opened the door, the music increasing dramatically in volume, and came face to back with a muscular giant, who visibly shivered when the cold gust of air hit him. The man turned, a cigarette hanging limply in his mouth as he grasped the open door in one meaty hand before he paused.

"Hoh?" he said, intrigued. "Shouldn't you be at home, drinking tea or something?"

She frowned, twitching as her anger exploded inside her, but she managed, barely, to keep her cool. Instead of responding she pulled the card she had been messing with out of her pocket and presented it to the behemoth. He took it, examining it for several seconds, face twitching, before looking down his nose at her again.

"A new recruit, eh? Well go on then, pipsqueak, I'm sure the boss would like to see you. Top box." He presented the card to her, yanking it back when she reached for it. "Try not to die, yeah?"

Millie swiped the card from his hands faster than he could blink, shoving it into her jacket pocket. "Yeah, whatevah," she said, stepping passed the man the smell of alcohol and tobacco heavy in her nose. The giant gave a rumbling laugh, behind her.

"I like her already," she heard him say, shutting the door behind her.

AN: Whatcha think? Let me know in a comment or PM. Also, I know I didn't put any Type-Moon terminology, but if you do notice that I wrote something incorrectly, on anything, feel free to tell me.

Thanks for reading, and I'll post the next chapter in a bit. ~VS