kurosakilchigo

[kurosakilchigo]

Peers down at him in full adjuchas form, his golden eye dilating visibly and a crackly purr moiling out of his jaws in short puffs of steam. Behind him, his tail slaps up and down against the shattered concrete. Nevermind the carcass rapidly rotting to nothing underneath him- Ichigo's come back from his own little patrol a lot sooner than expected. Dinner can wait.

@killerinstincts || accepting

Ichigo lands at the edge of the building, shihakusho snapping in the wind as he passes a final glance over the city below. It was a busy night, but now there’s nothing left but silence blanketing the city as densely as the humidity. He settles the weight of Zangetsu back across his shoulders, hand falling as he turns. 

In spirit form, his eyes cut better through the dark. Nowhere near as sharp as when he’s merged with Zangetsu, but enough to catch the gleam of those familiar eyes from across the rooftop. One exposed, one under the mask.

The hollow sword perches over his kill, almost unmoving, cloaked in gore and darkness, the hollow’s body crumbling beneath him, entrails already breaking apart. The air vibrates with the sound shaking in his chest.

Ichigo doubts he even realizes his tail is twitching behind him, ruining what might otherwise be a terrifying image.

He exhales, coming closer. “Some monster you are.”

It’s a fucking lie. Even now. Even when the sight of Zangetsu sends a familiar, fond thrill buzzing through the low parts of his stomach, there’s a spark of fear hiding somewhere deep in his hindbrain, slipping through his awareness and raising his skin into bumps.

He counters it by reaching up, ignoring that steam seeping from between sharp jaws, gripping Zangetsu on either side of his head to pull him down. Forehead to mask, he exhales again. This time deeper. Everything in him loosens and stills. Just for a second. Just long enough for the world to become a small point anchored between them. 

Then he presses a flat palm to the mask and pushes him away with a huff. 

“Better finish your food before it’s gone. You’re not gonna find anything else out there tonight.”

[kurosakilchigo]

*shoves his cold hands under Ichigo's shirt* (Technically, I write Zangetsu too, enjoy cold hands McGee!)

anonymous || accepting

The room’s been silent since he fell back asleep. Peaceful. Still. Ichigo’s breathing shallow against his pillow, face turned away from the window, sweat-damp hair stuck to his temple. And then. ICE. Two freezing hands shimmy up under his shirt like someone trying to gut a fish barehanded and Ichigo screams murder. 

He flails with the violence of a man under siege, jerking upright with a snarl, instantly awake. “WHAT THE HELL—?!” is all he manages before instinct takes over and he rage kicks Zangetsu square in the chest, sending the bastard flying backwards with all the shivering, righteous fury of an alley cat that’s just been dunked in a bath.

Ichigo slumps back into the blankets, collapsing, gasping, scowling, hand clutching the covers to his chest like he’s been mortally wounded. “I swear to fuck,” he growls, hoarse with fever, pointing one trembling, accusatory finger over the top, “when I’m better, I’m taking you back to Oetsu to have you forged into a coatrack.” 

He curls back into himself with another shiver, muttering dark curses under his breath, something about ‘coldblooded freaks’ and ‘fridge dwelling lizard bastards’

[kurosakilchigo]

"Not that I'm complaining, but... you're a lot warmer than usual." Uncomfortably warm, burning hot the way an infection does. Zangetsu rests a pale, cold hand against his hairline and feels the heat that radiates out against his palm, bleeding into him with more intensity than usual, and he frowns. "You running a fever?"

@killerinstincts || accepting

The first touch is so cold and unexpected, he flinches back, sucking in a breath, eyes fluttering open. 

His brows furrow.

“No.” Obviously. “Got class.” He can’t be sick. Test. “Times…” No, not right. “Timed.” The words are slurred, and he leans back into that cool touch that’s far better once the shock of it’s worn off.

His skin prickles with the contrast of Zangetsu’s palm resting at his forehead like a block of ice, making him shiver. The pulse behind his eyes pounds harder for a second, and he blinks up at him like that might stop the room from tilting a little too far left.

“M’ fine,” Ichigo mutters, because saying it out loud is the only way to keep the lie from unraveling. “Been worse.” He just needs a second. Maybe two. He exhales, slow and tight, and closes his eyes again like that might settle the aching chill under his skin as he pushes deeper into the blankets.

Ichigo leans in a little harder against the steadiness of that hand with a sigh. Even though he’s pretty sure if Zangetsu touches anywhere else he might screech like a girl. Or murder him. Whichever comes first.

[kurosakilchigo]

Sits there and watches Ichigo cook. When Ichigo looks up at him, he smiles and his tail gives a slight wag.

@killerinstincts || accepting

At the sight of that quiver in Zangetsu’s tail, the edge of Ichigo’s mouth quirks up in a similar involuntary action. He pushes it back down to concentrate.

“Stop that. If I mess this up, I’m blaming it on you this time.” 

Ichigo gives the vegetables a stir, but his eyes go back to the hollow. “We need to get you a hobby. You look like this is the best thing you’ve seen all day, and I’m pretty sure it rates a two out of ten at best.”

[kurosakilchigo]

An intense throb of jealousy stabs through Ichigo as the two of them stare at a lizard exhibit through the same pair of eyes, where a juvenile tegu is sitting underneath a heat lamp with its eyes shut. If Zangetsu has noticed that Ichigo has noticed exactly where that emotion has come from, he says nothing to address it.

@killerinstincts || accepting

Ichigo isn’t even trying to think of anything specific. It’s been a relaxed day, if a little quiet. Too quiet. He called home last night. Late here, but early for his family. His friends have looser schedules, but even so, their conversations have dwindled to scattered messages exchanged between classes.

It’s fine. That’s just how it is.

He gently pulls his mind away before it can spiral, letting his gaze drift to the enclosure in front of him. A lizard lounges along a rock ledge, black and white markings stark against the muted substrate. Ichigo watches it idly, eyes tracking the slow flick of its tail, and thinks without meaning to of another tail entirely.

A stab of something dark slips through his thoughts. It’s not a physical sensation, but it’s so close, it might as well be. 

Ichigo pauses. 

It takes him a second to blink away his haze. But when he does, when he puzzles out what’s happening, he nearly chokes on a snort. Ichigo glances beside him to see that the person ahead of him has moved on. He looks back to the lizard then reads the sign. Black and White Tegu

“Friend of yours?”

He reads on.

Black and White Tegu (Salvator merianae)

Native to South America, this intelligent lizard is known for its calm nature, high prey drive, and striking black-and-white pattern. Unusually for reptiles, tegus can raise their body temperature during mating season. This trait is called seasonal endothermy.

Ichigo’s eyebrows lift. He reads the next line and barely stifles a snort.

Keepers say they’re clever enough to recognize their names and always know when it’s feeding time!

“Well…” There’s a smirk fighting to take up residence at one side of his mouth. “He doesn’t have horns though, so he’s a pretty second rate lizard.” Then, quieter, scanning that one line again. “Are you sure you’ve tried everything to get warm when you’re cold?”

[kurosakilchigo]

Whatever the hell he was expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. Ichigo blinks, and his thoughts stall. His breath sticks.

What the fuck?

“…He’s alive, right?”

It’s not even a real question. Of course Grimmjow is alive. Zangetsu knows better… He wouldn’t.

Still. He wants to hear it out loud.

His gaze drags lower, briefly, against his better judgment. A heap of wrecked clothes already half-forgotten on the floor. Even as he’s sure words like ‘got a hold of each other’ and ‘all-out fight’ are where his focus should be.

His breath hisses out. He tries not to fidget. Not to picture anything. Ichigo should be glad Zangetsu has a friend to go fuck off with. He just wishes it was someone less likely to toss metaphorical napalm into a firestorm and consider it a good time. Zangetsu doesn’t need any encouragement in that area.

He glances back toward the door, almost certain he should go check the state of things. Only he turns back at that tug, not because he isn’t concerned, but because the trust is there too, heavy and dependable, under everything else.

“You really think you’ve earned a reward after all that?” he mutters, tone dry. Except… he’s pretty sure if Zangetsu is out giving Grimmjow a good run, it’ll be that much longer before the arrancar shows up looking for a fight from Ichigo.

It only takes him another moment before Ichigo gives in with a low curse and reaches up to tug his shirt over his head, lets it drop somewhere behind him. “Can’t believe you have the energy left to even think about sharing a shower.”

He toes his shoes off and everything else follows. Belt slipped free, jeans, boxers. Then he steps under the spray behind him, warm water catching his shoulders, and without hesitation, plants a palm between Zangetsu’s shoulders and pushes him toward the wall.

“Idiot.” His voice is rough as steam curls around them. “Let me see your back.”

Because he’s feeling prickly suddenly, seeing all that damage. Because he’s curious. Because, even now, he wants his hands on him.

@kurosakilchigo / continued from here.

There's the hand at his back, stripping the fabric away from all the parts of him that haven't fully healed. Zangetsu tenses when he feels the air hit all his exposed and fleshy viscera, but doesn't so much as turn his head at Ichigo as he opens the bathroom door and struts inside. His wielder is exhaustingly fussy; it's no surprise that he'd come fretting after him.

Not that he minds. A small affectionate smile finds its way on his face as he starts stripping himself down, starting with the tattered belt holding up his pants.

"Grimmjow and I got a hold of each other. Went to Hueco Mundo on a whim, then found him and provoked him into an all-out fight. We went the full mile- Resurrection, horns, all the works. Then when we ran out of reiatsu, we thrashed each other in the sand until we couldn't move. It was a lot of fun!" Fun. The word takes a savage shape in his mouth, gleams in the sharps of his teeth as he smiles. He fondly remembers the sensation of reaming Grimmjow with his horns like a bull, feeling the way the bone punctured through the gristle before it snapped off the stem. The arrancar will be digging that little present out of himself for days, he thinks to himself with glee.

The sash drops to the floor. There isn't much left of his shihakusho left to take off after that. He lets the rest of it pool around his feet, exposing all the wounds he hadn't bothered to heal, wincing at the way stray bits of sand scrape at his flesh when his movement jostles them. Then he turns to Ichigo, giving his shirt a tug.

His eyebrows raise suggestively. "Gonna join me in the shower with all of this on?"

[kurosakilchigo]

"Nooooo, you can't eat the dragons! They're protected here! Tch. Fuckin' stupid." He pats the soot off of the charred ends of his shihakusho where a witch's warning shot had landed, scowling. "What are they, National Geographic? Trying to turn England into their own little Hueco Mundo? Boring. It's not like the population is gonna collapse if I eat one or two of their lizards anyway."

@killerinstincts || accepting

Ichigo hums, noncommittal.

He’d probably care more if the stakes weren’t scraping rock bottom.

Unsurprisingly, Zangetsu tried to stick something in his mouth, failed, and is now bitching about it at full volume.

Ichigo snorts.

Sometimes he’s like a toddler. Or an especially curious shark. Everything new has to be explored mouth first.

Looks like another item for the list. No dragons.

He pulls the cap off his highlighter with his teeth, dragging it down a paragraph with the steady patience of someone trying determinedly to ignore impending chaos. His book’s propped on one knee, his open notes balanced across the other, pen tucked between fingers, coffee wedged between his side and elbow. He hasn’t looked up once.

The cap clicks back into place, freeing his mouth.

“Why don’t you just follow them and eat the dragons they exterminate? Or better idea. Don’t go near them at all. I’d rather not get kicked out of this place because you decided to mouth another lizard.” 

[kurosakilchigo]

Like a mouth, the Garganta parts, the teeth sliding up like panes. Zangetsu steps into Ichigo's room, hale and whole but clearly roughened up, with the front of his shihakusho in tatters and blue blood splattered all over him, stiffening hair and fabric in spots where his wounds had wept before they healed shut.

Zangetsu blinks as he regards him, idly making the Garganta shut behind him with a flick of his wrist. "Huh, didn't think you'd be back in your room so soon." He starts ambling towards the bathroom. "Gonna borrow your shower."

@killerinstincts || accepting

He’s too busy frowning to answer. Eyes scan down all those places where wounds clearly were before they healed and he doesn’t like what he finds. 

“You don’t have to ask to use the shower...” It’s distracted and he’s already up, following him, finding new wounds at his back, which sets something uncomfortable and loud going off inside his head.

Ichigo’s close enough to pull a ragged piece of fabric out to gauge the size of the hole.

“What the hell did you get hold of?” 

Or what go hold of him…

He follows Zangetsu inside, knowing better. He should back off, it’s clearly fine. He's not necessarily worried about Zangetsu causing too much trouble… Maybe. Only it is his business. And ultimately his responsibility. 

[kurosakilchigo]

Lies there blissed out under the kotatsu. His head is sticking out from one end, his wagging tail sticking out from the other.

@killerinstincts || accepting

It’s a toss up.

Heads or tails.

Which part does he most feel like getting his hands on? Laying out in the open that way makes both sides seem like an invitation.  

Ichigo smirks at that tail, drops his takeout onto the low table, and then sits on the edge by Zangetsu’s head, nudging the cover out from under his feet so he doesn’t accidentally let out the heat. “So much for those heated blankets I was looking at. Guess you’ll be sleeping here?”

Ichigo on the other hand, definitely won’t. If that tail is any indication, there probably wouldn’t be room for him anyway. “Hm.” 

He squints then opens the bag, pulls his food out and takes a bite.

He holds a piece of meat between his fingers, dangling it over Zangetsu. His tongue clicks which is the only warning Zangetsu is going to get before he drops it. Though he’s fairly confident Zangetsu doesn’t actually need it. 

“I’ve seen you make yourself bigger. Why didn’t you make yourself small enough to fit all of you under there?”

[kurosakilchigo]

"Y'know, Hollow instincts are mostly if not exclusively about violence and hunger. Sex? Not so much. Reproduction isn't in our biology." He presses close from behind, a hand snaking around to press against his groin. Zangetsu smiles against his shoulder. "So when I get the urge to bend you over the nearest flat surface and rail you... is that your influence?"

@killerinstincts || accepting

Every part of him freezes. His body. His breath. His thoughts. Just for a second. Just long enough to feel heat rush down his spine, molten and sudden, curling low in his gut like something intent on devouring him from the inside out.

He exhales around the hitch of it.

Ichigo doesn't even know what he'd been expecting. He's so relaxed around Zangetsu these days, he hadn't thought anything about that hold. Had barely pulled his thoughts from an upcoming project before the word sex derails him utterly.

The fine hair lifts at the back of his neck.

Zangetsu’s voice is close enough to feel, lips brushing skin, and Ichigo’s grip on his composure shudders and slips. That tone is so reasonable, he'd be an idiot to trust it.

The flare in his stomach catches and spreads, his thoughts stumbling over themselves, fracturing under the throb of his pulse under Zangetsu’s hand. How the hell does he do this? Unwind Ichigo so completely. So quickly.

"Dunno." Ichigo licks his lips, struggling to get himself back into order with a body more interested in finding out exactly where Zangetsu is going with that logic. He turns his head toward him. The barest hint of a shudder slipping past his grip. “When I have the urge to wrestle you to the floor and leave marks on every inch of you, is that yours?”

That mouth is so close. Too dangerous. It leaves every part of him taut and aching and wanting.

It’s not even protest. More like let’s try it and see who rails who. 

[kurosakilchigo]

"A hot spring sounds good as hell right now." He's wrapped up in three different layers of blankets, sighing wistfully. "I wanna be like one of those capybaras. The ones that sit there with mini-oranges on their heads."

@killerinstincts || accepting

He’s not sure how Zangetsu knows anything about capybaras when Ichigo barely does himself, but he’s long since stopped trying to figure that kind of thing out.

“Little whats? On what?” he mutters, frowning as he tugs his tshirt the rest of the way down. The floor is cool underfoot, and the room smells faintly of clean sheets and the cold air seeping in around the windows. All the buildings in this country seem old and drafty. 

He peels back the edge of the blankets, slipping beneath them with a sigh, prepared to be a living space heater.

A sharp shiver runs through him as bare skin meets Zangetsu’s 

“Shit, you’re freezing.” He settles anyway, already warming fast. “I don’t even know if they have those here. And I’m half afraid if I found you one, you’d never leave it.”

[kurosakilchigo]

The alleyway is too narrow. Maybe not to fight, but to properly defend the quavering spirits that cower behind Ichigo, their backs to the wall and their hands above their heads, as if their feeble wrists will shield them from the hulking threat that towers above all of them.

Even without being nestled within Ichigo's soul, Zangetsu can already guess what thoughts are going through his mind right now. It's too narrow to swing, and the buildings are so high that unleashing any reiatsu and destabilizing the architecture here could easily result in a cave-in. But these spirits are in need of protection, and so he intends to risk himself.

Zangetsu won't allow it.

He manifests himself in a whirl of black and red, then in a heaving mass of muscle and spikes, and roars. An ear-piercing, sky-splitting scream that dares the Hollows that crowd them to challenge them.

Hollow instincts trend towards hierarchy, and none of the Gillians peering at them are so foolish to think that they could usurp him. They flee immediately, disappearing into the road, and then further away, running as far as possible from his perceived 'territory' in an attempt to escape being eaten.

It's only him now. His massive lizard form twists at them, his singular gold eye looking down to Ichigo meaningfully, before he shuts it and dissolves before their eyes. Flakes away into nothing, like cinders peeling off of the fuselage.

@killerinstincts || accepting

Ichigo’s breath catches sharp in his throat.

He hadn’t called Zangetsu. Hadn’t even thought of calling him. He’d been too busy with what’s in front of him, trying to pull some half formed plan out of nowhere, his mind adding up angles, force, fallout—all of it—and getting nowhere. He’s too busy trying to get everyone out alive without getting them buried in rubble.

And then Zangetsu is there.

All spikes and muscle and fury, swallowing the alley in presence alone. The force of his roar slams into Ichigo’s chest like a shockwave, rattling bone, silencing thought, making the spirits behind him vibrate like pebbles before a bulldozer. 

Ichigo watches the Gillians scatter like ashes in the wind, not a single one daring to test the line Zangetsu drew with sound and blood and hunger.

It’s only then, in the sudden quiet, that Ichigo realizes how tightly he’s been gripping his blade.

And then Zangetsu looks at him. Just one eye, burning bright, catching his. There’s no question in it. No scolding. Just a quiet reminder. He’s never fighting alone. 

And then he’s gone. Dissolving mid-breath, curling into flakes of red and black that drift upward like embers, fading before they touch the sky.

Ichigo exhales, slow and rough, tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

Thanks.

Behind him, the spirits haven’t moved. He glances back, rolls his stiff shoulders, and jerks his chin. “Come on. You’re good now.” He turns with an exhale. “Alright. Whoever wants to get out of here, and on to the next place, line up.”

They’re still quivering as they move. He doubts they understand what saved them.

But Ichigo does.

Ichigo doesn’t even think Zangetsu cares about them. Not really. But he came anyway. It makes his chest tight, even as he moves to finish.

[kurosakilchigo]

"I have dreams of my past life from time to time, you know." There is no mourning in his voice as he says it. He's a placid pool that reflects no emotion, giving voice to only thought as he continues. "It's usually the same scenes. I'm either in a test tube being leered at by some scientists on the other side of the glass, or I'm fighting your dad. Or I'm dying."

Zangetsu glances down at his reflection on the glass pane he sits on. Reaches out to it. "Guess that makes sense, though. My previous life was so short-lived, and now I know that it was hardly meant to be a life at all. I was a means to an end, and I detonated myself as soon as my purpose was over." He traces a line with his finger. Imagines that there's a tip of a black blade gleaming there instead of a hand.

"Not sure why I still have those dreams from time to time. Is there a reason why my soul is still hanging on to who I was before? If there is, I haven't figured it out yet."

@killerinstincts || accepting

He lays on his back, catching his breath, letting his gaze drift over the cloudless sideways skyline, finished for now with training. 

He looks toward Zangetsu, taking the words in before frowning. “You do?” His eyes flit over Zangetsu’s face, his eyes, brows, mouth, looking for any emotion. He doesn’t find any. Though… it’s not indifference. Not really. It’s more like resignation. Like he already accepted a long time ago that it didn’t matter because no one else cared.

Ichigo takes a tight breath as the spirit continues. His fingers curl, but he doesn’t interrupt. 

Created to be used. Discarded. The way Ichigo had tried to discard him. 

Ichigo lets his head rest back against the concrete and glass under him and just listens. Listens until those words cinch tight around his chest like a garroting wire. Until it’s impossible not to recall how deeply entwined they are. 

Zangetsu, who has never once asked for concern or pity. He doesn’t ask now. And Ichigo knows the scale of what he gives far outweighs what he receives. 

His gaze moves to gold eyes when those colorless fingers reach out and Zangetsu peers into the glass.

For a moment they are a three way mirror. 

But as Ichigo studies him, he thinks they can’t be seeing the same things. 

He doesn’t see a test subject. Not an experiment. Not an expendable weapon.

He’s his. His reflection. His partner. 

Ichigo reaches out, hand around a cool wrist, and pulls those fingers to his own face. 

Trace this. Us. Stop reaching backward.

“Maybe because you’re stubborn as hell."

The words are rough, but he says them quiet. Tries to lessen the impact. Full of things to say without knowing if any of it is welcome.

"Maybe you were meant to be a means to an end, but if that’s all you were, you wouldn’t still be here. Part of you refused to disappear. Guess it still does.” If those dreams are anything to go by. But, “It’s not a bad thing you’re not so easy to be rid of. "I—" He takes a breath. "I need you.”

To fight, yeah, but… that’s not even what he means.

“That was a shitty way to treat you, whether you knew what was going on or not. But I can’t even be angry. Because you’re here— I want you here. With me. And I’d want you if you couldn’t help me fight at all.”

[kurosakilchigo]

"Why go to the UK to study, of all places?" Zangetsu sounds miserable. The faintest shiver wracks his body, injecting a tremor in his voice even as he hugs himself and fights to keep still. "It's too damn cold and gloomy here. You should've picked somewhere warmer."

@killerinstincts || accepting

Ichigo tugs his collar higher against the chill. Beside him, Zangetsu looks like he’s geared up for an expedition to the South Pole. Buried in layers of fur and down, he’s managing to look both frumpy and dismal.

Ichigo smirks, sliding his freezing fingers back into his pockets. “Don’t whine. It’s not that bad.”

Okay. It is that bad. The sky is gray, the streets are gray, the buildings are gray, and he could’ve picked a better day to stare at what might’ve been an impressive stone fountain—if the water had been on... Even the horse and rider look cold. It’s bleak. And yeah, it’s really fucking cold.

“Language immersion. Sink or swim. You want to get fluent, you go where they speak it. Figured you, of all people, would appreciate an approach like that.” His english is actually pretty damn good. But there’s a lot they can’t teach in a classroom.

He glances sideways again. Zangetsu’s hunched like a miserable lizard left out in the rain. “Not exactly beach weather, huh? Maybe we should’ve gotten you gloves instead of walking all the way here.”

There’s no apology in his tone, just faint amusement, maybe a little smug for someone who’s also half frozen.

“Guess all those hollow abilities you like to brag about don’t stack up against sweater weather.” He nudges him so it’s clear he’s joking. “Come on. What about something warm to drink? Might have to get you a heated jacket at this point. Too bad you didn't end up a fire breathing lizard like some of these weird things here.” 

[kurosakilchigo]

Clamps down on his hand. Hard. Hard enough to draw blood. His touch is already cold, but this time he's even colder because of all of the seawater dripping off of him, making his teeth feel like juts of ice digging into Ichigo's warm flesh. Nothing brings clarity like pain does, after all, and Zangetsu intends to use it to bring Ichigo out of his funk- even if he has to maul him to do it.

@killerinstincts || accepting

Ichigo jerks. Almost slow, almost delayed, like his body isn’t sure what it’s reacting to at first. The cold or the pain.

The pain wins.

“Hey!”

The snarl bursts from him as he yanks his arm back with force, but Zangetsu doesn’t let go. His teeth stay clamped down, unforgiving. The bite sharpens, twists into something frigid and searing, chilling and white-hot beneath the skin. Ichigo’s breath catches. Blood wells fast. The heat of it is stark against the cold soaking Zangetsu’s form, dripping seawater down his wrist.

It hurts.

Clean and red. 

And it works.

The fog in his head splits down the middle. The spiral breaks. The numbness burns out in a wash of adrenaline that flares hot through his chest. "I said hey!" Tugged out of his stewing, his temper spikes and before he can stop himself, Ichigo moves. He shoves forward with raw force, crashing them both down with a thud to the floor. Zangetsu hits the ground first, teeth slipping free at last—allowed to slip free, more like—but Ichigo doesn’t let up. Doesn’t retreat.

He ends up straddling him, breath heaving, the smell of blood still fresh at the back of his nose. His hand, bitten and bloodied, presses against Zangetsu’s chest while the other buries itself into the mess of white hair, fingers pressing in rough. Not punishing. Just… gripping.

His head dips. Their faces closer now. And those light-on-dark eyes look pissed, but frayed. Torn at the edges with something that might be concern.

Ichigo stares. His jaw clenches. Then loosens with a long breath.

“Flooding you out?” he mutters, breath still ragged against Zangetsu’s cheek. His hand braces beside Zangetsu’s head. He looks away. “Sorry.”

The word lands softer than the rest.

Ichigo stays where he is, weight balanced above him, not to dominate, not to subdue any more, just to stay still for a second.

He lets the silence stretch.

“…You’re such an asshole.” His voice is hoarse, edged with something raw that wasn’t there before but his fingers ease their grip on Zangetsu’s white hair. 

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t climb off. Just soaks in the spirit’s presence and the chill coming off him. His mouth opens slower this time. “I can’t be everywhere at once. Something’s going on back home and everyone wants me to stay here. I'm just going to stay here while they fight. Doing classwork, drinking overpriced coffee, while they might be--” He takes a sharp breath. He won't say it. But he thinks it. Constantly. "Don't look at me. I already know what you'll say."

[kurosakilchigo]

                         ZANGETSU’S “DO NOT EAT” LIST 

ANTIFREEZE It is NOT a dessert. It is NOT “just a little sweet.” It is POISON. STOP.

Candle Wax Just because it smells like vanilla cake doesn’t mean it IS vanilla cake. Smells good ≠ edible. 

Decorative Soap See above. Also, stop calling it “flavored.” That’s not what that word means.

Batteries No, they do not “buzz nicely”. You almost bit a car battery once. I have PTSD.

Koi fish They’re expensive. NO.

Expired meat / Unknown alley meat / “Meat-adjacent materials” / Things that used to be meat Also NO.

FIREWORKS OF ANY KIND

Glow Sticks If it glows, it goes. BACK. ON. THE. SHELF. Not in your mouth.

My written assignments / Notes / Messages This is not how you get my attention. 

Hallucinogenic mushrooms Where did you find them. Why do you have them.

Chalk / Drywall / Plaster You are not a goat.

Random bones you find on walks If you didn’t kill it yourself, it’s not a snack!!

My toothbrush You have your own. Don't eat that one, either.

Glue (hot or cold)

Decorative rocks

Potted plants / Cactus / Indoor living things that grow

PeopleThis includes but is not limited to: -Rude cashiers -Smug shopkeepers -People who “looked at me wrong” -Anyone with a clipboard -Definitely not that one barista who winked at me

Me (Ichigo)  UNDERLINED FOR EMPHASIS.

LIGHTBULBS 

Emergency Addendum: If you’re not sure if it’s food—ASK!!  Asking does not mean making eye contact while licking it.

ZANGETSU’S “ALLOWED TO EAT (BUT PROBABLY SHOULDN’T)” LIST

(Also compiled by Ichigo, who has clearly lost this war. This list is not encouragement. This list is surrender.)

Un-cracked eggs

Frozen food

Canned whipped cream

Entire rotisserie chickens

My cooking, when I explicitly tell you it’s bad

Expired meat

Cactus (without spines)

Those little desiccant packets labeled “DO NOT EAT”

Food in the packaging

[kurosakilchigo]

"You're getting better at cooking, king." Zangetsu nods at him approvingly through a mouthful of chicken. None of his usual smugness colors his voice, because even if the food is still far from perfect- the chicken too bland, the vegetables too mushy- the teasing only comes with teeth when it truly counts. When survival hinges on it. Here, no one will die if Ichigo missed a few extra grains of salt on his meat.

He polishes off the bone, idly listening to Ichigo murmuring something about leveling up to 'passable for human consumption' while he eats from his own bowl. Then he licks his lips and clamps his teeth around the length of the bone, and bites down. Bone shards splinter off in his mouth, and the sickening crack that follows split any illusion that this would be a normal dinner. Like a rotten log, just like the chicken bone. Right down the middle.

"Look at that," Zangetsu says admiringly. "You cooked it properly down to the marrow! Made it nice and easy to strip off, just the way I like it." He gets to work, enthusiastically nibbling at the spongy mesh of tissues within before he finally notices Ichigo's staring, and he pauses. Tilts his head at him. "What? It's the best part. If you're curious, I can split a bone open for you to try."

@killerinstincts || accepting

Ichigo looks up. He’d just been poking at that meat, muttering while thinking it was far from the tender, delicate bites of spicy chicken Yuzu makes without apparent effort. So when Zangetsu compliments him, it lands like a stray elbow, unexpected and off balance. 

“Think it’s a fluke. Screw something up enough times, odds are you’ll eventually fuck it up in the right direction.” It’s a theory he knows well.

But he perks some, chopsticking the next bite into his mouth and chewing with more thoughtfulness. 

Zangetsu doesn’t really lie to him, so what choice does he have except to believe him?

He shifts to lean back against the counter, close enough that Zangetsu’s knee brushes against his hip. It’s comfortable. Nice. Which is probably why the sharp snap that follows makes him flinch. His head cants sideways.

He wishes he could say he wasn’t used to Zangetsu putting weird things in his mouth. “You’re gonna perforate your guts.” 

His gaze follows those shards when they’re offered. 

Ichigo stares. Opens his mouth. Squints. Then he eyes the bone again. 

“You like that?”

He knows people do. Some people. But Zangetsu? Ichigo’s already had to build a 'Do Not Eat' list for him, and half the time it gets ignored anyway.

“I don’t know what’s worse, that you eat like a damn ghoul or that I’m getting used to it.”

He wavers, then sets his bowl down and reaches out, catching Zangetsu’s wrist to pull it closer. The bone’s still slightly warm, polished in places with teethmarks and split, jagged in spots. He hesitates. Then leans forward and scrapes a small bite of reddish marrow free with his teeth.

The texture is weird, like cartilage and gelatin had a baby, and something about that realization makes him wrinkle his nose. The taste hits second. He releases Zangetsu’s wrist with a sigh that feels too much like defeat.

It’s not bad. Which is the problem.

“Goddammit,” he mutters. “It’s better than the meat.” 

He pushes the hand away with disgust and turns back to the counter.

“If you need me, I’ll be up on the roof getting ready to jump.”

He doesn’t move, just starts stacking bowls with a quiet grumble, pretending like that didn’t just happen.