Chapter 50: Friends and Family

A/N: The day after my last update post, I learned my nephew had passed away. He was 17, and he died due to a completely avoidable accident. Suffice it to say, my family is quite devestated.

To reiterate what I said in the public update from last night: Far be it for me to tell you how to live your lives, but I would encourage you to spend time with your loved ones. You never know how suddenly they'll be gone.

Thank you everyone for your patience, and to all the people who sent me kind words on Discord, I appreciate you more than you know.

The restaurant was quiet, its paper-paneled walls muffling the clink of ceramic cups and the muted scrape of chopsticks. Ichigo sat in one of the low private rooms, back straight, knees folded under the table, his hands loosely clasped. He let his eyes wander the subdued décor, the brush-painted scroll on the far wall depicting a field of flowers. From the odd flower arrangement lessons Yasaka and Kunou had teasingly dragged him to, he recognized the painted flowers as asphodels. He then took note of the lanterns above, decorated with images of the full moon.

All of it reminded him of evenings spent with his family at the rare times Isshin had insisted on a proper dinner out, though this place was far more refined than Karakura’s little corner shops. He wondered if Rukia had chosen it deliberately: somewhere neutral, proper, and quiet enough that no one would overhear.

When his gaze flicked to her, he couldn’t help a nostalgic smile tugging at the corner of his lips at the warmth and familiarity in her violet eyes.

“How have you been?” she asked gently.

Ichigo shifted comfortably, scratching the side of his jaw. “Surprisingly good,” he admitted. “It’s actually been a pleasant day, all things considered. How about you?”

Rukia’s smile flickered, then dimmed. She lowered her gaze to the table, her voice quieter. “I wish I could say the same. I’ve been… troubled.”

Ichigo straightened slightly, concern pulling at his brow. “I’m assuming it has something to do with the changes happening in Soul Society?”

Her head snapped up, violet eyes narrowing in surprise. “You know?”

He held up a steady hand in face of her hope-filled tone. “Nothing concrete. Just tidbits of information through the grapevine of what’s going on in the other side of the living. Reishi changes and what not, or so I’ve heard.”

His eyes slid to her hands, watching as she gripped her teacup a little too tightly. Her composure cracked and her words spilled out, sharp with frustration.

“These aren’t just simple changes in the Reishi of the environment. It’s more, Ichigo,” she said through gritted teeth. “All the new souls coming in, they feel… muted. Cold. Regardless of the district, Rukongai has always had an energy about it, a noise of life, ironic though it may sound. But nevertheless, people were always striving for something. But these recently dead… there’s something inherently missing in them. And it’s spreading through Soul Society.”

Ichigo frowned, leaning back in his seat. A fundamental change in the Shinto afterlife would ripple across every soul bound to it. If what she said was true, then the dead themselves were being reshaped. And Ichigo couldn’t help but recall his phone call with Hats-n-Clogs, certain suspicions of his growing stronger with Rukia’s words.

Rukia’s eyes searched his face, desperate for an answer. “What do you know about the wound in the fabric of reality that appeared in Kuoh? Do you know anything about what could be causing these changes in Soul Society? If they’re related? Anything at all.”

For a moment, Ichigo stayed silent, hesitating about what and how much he should reveal to his old friend. And just as the words formed on his lips, he felt it - the weight of Amaterasu’s immortal presence threading through Fate itself, the faint but unyielding touch of her disapproval pressing against his soul. A subtle warning, and Ichigo couldn’t help sighing silently to himself. Though his hesitation made Rukia lean forward, her voice almost pleading.

“Ichigo, please. If you know something, tell me.”

He let out a long breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “…the tear in the boundaries was caused by a conflict, specifically a magical weapon that has powers that are practically conceptually impossible.”

Rukia’s eyes widened. “A weapon? What kind of weapon could do that? And how in the world did it end up in Japan?”

Amaterasu’s presence sharpened like a blade through his senses, and Ichigo immediately understood - Rhongomyniad’s existence wasn’t meant for Shinigami ears. As far as Ichigo was concerned, knowledge of the Slaying Spear wasn’t meant for any ears. The damn thing was too dangerous; it should never have even been made. A testament to King Arthur’s character and strength of will that the magical superweapon actually obeyed him.

“I can’t tell you what it was,” Ichigo said finally, his tone steady but firm. “But what I can tell you is this: the conflicts of the Three Great Factions spilled over into Japan. A mad Fallen thought he could use the weapon to merge the living and the dead. To force himself into godhood. He’s dead now, and the weapon is sealed away again. That’s all I can give you.”

Rukia stared at him, her face pale. “And the veil repairing itself? Was that something from your side of the universe?”

Ichigo shook his head. “Not mine. If I had to guess, divine intervention.”

Her voice caught. “Divine?” She blinked rapidly, then whispered, “Do you – do you mean the Soul King?” Her hands trembled around her cup. “But that can’t be. He’s been inactive for nearly all our history. Nothing but an observer, a… wait… the last he was active was… was when he sent out an edict… an edict about you.”

Ichigo didn’t respond aloud, though his thoughts twisted grimly. That was as much Amaterasu’s doing; with the Soul King acting out of self-preservation as Soul Society and the broken cycle of soul was not prepared to make contact with Sirzechs and the Devil Empire.

The silence between them stretched long, broken only by the faint clatter of dishes from the hall. Ichigo didn’t need to be a mind-reader to see the cogs turning in Rukia’s head. She was putting two and two together, realizing that he did have something deeper to do with all of this. The problem was, not even Ichigo knew for sure what.

He was certain, absolutely certain, it was related to Amaterasu’s declaration of her intent for him to inherit the Soul King’s position and fix the broken afterlife, so that Izanami’s curse may finally be dispelled and the consequence of Hollows purged from the afterlife. But the seismic shifts in Soul Society and Hueco Mundo, and his odd dreams and moments of unwarranted visits into the Fourth-Dimension… Ichigo remained uncertain how he fit into everything.

Finally, Rukia set her jaw. “Come back with me. To Soul Society. Ichigo, maybe with you there we can figu-.”

Ichigo’s instantly cut her off, resolute. “No.”

Her eyes widened at his steel-like tone. “What? Why not?”

“Rukia, I told you last time, I’m a Demon,” Ichigo said, voice set firm. “Look, I get that you might not fully understand what that entails, but there’s a reason we’re banned from entering any afterlife. We corrupt human souls just by being near them. And it’s not something I can turn off, it’s automatic. Even here, on Earth, with me holding back as much as possible, my power is seeping into Time and Space. But in Soul Society? Where the spirit density is exponentially higher? That effect would be multiplied a thousand-fold.

“And I’m not just a Demon, Rukia - I’m a Crown Prince of Hell. I’m the third most powerful Demon in existence, and I’m quickly approaching the two ahead of me. If I so much as set a single foot in Soul Society… it would be cataclysmic. Yeah, the Soul King forbade you all from approaching me. To make sure the entire system doesn’t collapse because of me.”

Rukia deflated in her seat, her lips trembling. “I… then what can I do? I’ve trained and I’ve trained over the years. So much time, so much effort. So that I wouldn’t ever have to rely on a friend or a brother to come in and save me from a danger I couldn’t protect myself from.” Her eyes quivered as she added softly, “So that I could be the one to protect others for once. I hate feeling powerless, Ichigo…”

He looked at her, sympathy softening his features. He knew the feeling all too well, having shared similar insecurities and doubts himself many times in the past. Which why he also knew what he was about to say would only hurt her more. “I’m sorry. And I wish I could do something to help. And I know this is going to piss you off, but the best thing you can do for now is nothing.”

Her head snapped up, eyes reflecting shock before quickly morphing in fury. “Nothing? Nothing?! How can you say that? I’m a lieutenant of the Gotei 13, I have responsibilities. And even if I didn’t, Soul Society is my home! If you were in my shoes, would you do nothing?”

As her small hand came down, there was sharp crack that brought the room to a still silence as the wooden table fractured under her fist.

His sigh was heavy, shoulders sagging. Yeah, once upon a time Ichigo would have run headfirst, recklessly into the problem, doing his best to solve the issue without giving it a second thought. But this wasn’t something she, or anyone, could simply swing their sword at and make it go away. There was something intangible here at play, something unseen.

His gaze softened considerably. “I’m sorry.,” he said apologetically. “But this is something beyond you, beyond any Shinigami.”

She blinked, and then her anger hardened. “You know something. You know something Ichigo, and you’re hiding it from me.”

Fuck.

Ichigo’s jaw tightened. What was he supposed to tell her? That the Shinto afterlife, everything she ever knew was potentially being rearranged. Potentially with numerous True Immortal entities? That somehow, it all ended with him taking the Soul King’s place?

He couldn’t send her down a path that would lead to her death. He couldn’t risk her suddenly asking the wrong question and gaining the attention of forces that wouldn’t appreciate her poking and prodding. The last thing he needed on his conscience was Central 46, or worse Amaterasu, suddenly deciding an inquisitive Shinigami had to be silenced.

And yet… this was Rukia. The first friend he ever made beyond the confines of humanity.

Ah, fuck it.

“Have you spoken to Urahara recently?” he asked suddenly.

The abrupt shift caught her off guard and she was about to say something in anger, but slowly, she caught herself. Her gaze sharpened, suspicious. Then she exhaled, calming. “…No. I haven’t.”

“You should go see Hats-n-Clogs for old time’s sake. He’s redecorated the shop, you know?” he said rather casually.

She studied him, eyes narrowing, but after a long pause she nodded. “Maybe, I’ll stop by after this.”

The tension in the air remained heavy, but it became less suffocating as Rukia’s shoulders relaxed. Though her gaze remained suspicious. And Ichigo couldn’t help but silently admired her perceptiveness. She obviously knew he was hiding something, and Rukia was smart enough to figure out that there were reasons he couldn’t outright say what it was. But he could point her in a certain direction.

At the very least, Urahara would ensure Rukia wouldn’t go and stir the hornet’s nest too much.

Again, he could feel Amaterasu’s stark disapproval, but Ichigo swatted away the Solar Matron’s austere presence from around them and subtly pushed back with his own aura, though not too much. Again, Demon – corruption. It wouldn’t do well for the humans to start mutating into monsters because of him.

Rukia leaned back, exhaling. Then, after a pause, she asked, “Have you been to Karakura recently? Seen your family?”

Ichigo nodded, a light smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. A few weeks ago.” His lips quirked faintly. “I had fun.”

Her expression softened. “I’m glad. What did you do.”

He tilted his head. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you: ever heard of Fullbringers?”

She shook her head. “No, what is that?”

“Well,” Ichigo said, shifting comfortable in his seat with the faintest of smiles, “I’ve got a story for you.”

And for the first time that evening, the weight between them eased. For a while, at least, Ichigo let himself just sit across from an old friend, relaxed in the simple act of conversation.

-----

Ichigo hovered in the sky, arms folded loosely as the breeze tugged at his coat. Karakura sprawled below, lights glittering like scattered jewels. His gaze, however, was fixed inward, replaying his conversation with Rukia. On one hand, whatever was going on with the Soul King and Soul Society deeply disturbed him on a personal and professional level.

On the other hand, he really had way too much on his plate already. Igniting a second civil war amongst Devils, managing Infernity, plotting to put the Pillars in their place, hunting Sinners on the side, dealing with the antics of his fellow Crown Princes, and the far too many responsibilities that came with the position of Satan…

Ichigo needed another vacation. Maybe this time he and Tiamat should just go to another reality? That dimension where shrimp didn’t exist wasn’t too bad.

With a heavy sigh, Ichigo craned his neck and stared into the dark of the night sky.

“You know,” he said offhandedly, “most people have the decency not to hover and listen in on private conversations. Pretty sure eavesdropping is some sort of sin.”

The effect was immediate, Amaterasu’s aura lightly dipped back into the mortal plane, and he could feel her miffed presence ripple with exasperation.

“Excuse the blasphemy, but imagine what all your believers would think?” he continued bemused. “The August Illumination of the Cosmos, the Queen of Heaven, the Rising Sun – indulging in sin so brazenly. Oh wait, is that the plan? A foreign exchange program? I take the Soul King’s spot, you take mine?”

But Ichigo’s amusement was short-lived as a twist of invisible force seized his ear, sharp and insistent, like a stern mother’s hand disciplining a disobedient child. A small pain flared, and Ichigo instinctively reached up and grabbed his ear soothingly.

“Ow! It was a joke, sheesh!” He rubbed the ear as the pressure faded. “Lucifer, you have no sense of humor.”

Again, he could feel her presence twist through the world, sensations of haughty pride wrapped around edges of childish petulance, with an almost girlish huff of ‘you should know better.’ And slowly Amaterasu’s presence withdrew, the threads of her attention dissolving back into the ebb and flow of Fate.

Ichigo winced, still massaging his ear, and muttered to himself. While he could never imagine Amaterasu’s firm and dignified mien ever making the expression, he was distinctively reminded of when Yasaka would puff her cheeks in a childish pout. His lips twitched in bemused recognition - yeah, his wife must have inherited that particular habit from her Holy Matron.

And on that thought, Ichigo swiftly decided he would take advantage of his brief incursion into the human world and go visit his wife.

He easily slipped through space. A blink, and the world itself folded for him, and he reappeared inside Yasaka’s palace, directly in her office.

She sat occupied at her desk, fully immersed in the scroll between her delicate and soft hands.

“You could at least have the decency to teleport outside my door and then knock,” she said absently, not even bothering to look up from her administrative work.

Ichigo shrugged carelessly. “Demon, rude. Comes with the package.”

She shook her head, but as she looked up from the scroll, she had a warm smile playing across her lips. “Hello, dear.”

“Hey there, princess,” he greeted affectionately. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by.”

She rose from her seat, kimono shimmering in the light of the crystal lanterns, and Ichigo couldn’t help but think just how damn beautiful she was. Political and metaphysical machinations aside, he really did owe Amaterasu for setting him up with Yasaka.

As she came around the desk, Ichigo took one long stride and met her halfway. His arms encircling her waist as he leaned down to press his lips against hers in a firm kiss. Her own hands went around his back, and he felt the warmth of her body seep into his. Her scent of fresh jasmine surrounded him and instantly brought a serene calm to his mind. The conversation with Rukia slipping away from the forefront of his mind as he allowed himself to immerse himself in his love for the woman in his arms. Yeah, there were few things in the world better than cuddling content with one’s wife.

But the moment of calm ended as quickly as it began. He pulled back slightly, studying her face. A frown etched into his brow.  “Why are you upset?”

Yasaka blinked, caught off guard. “Upset? I’m not upset at all.”

Ichigo fixed her with a flat and disbelieving look. He wasn’t buying it one bit. “Yasaka. I’m the literal demonic embodiment of anger. You think I can’t feel your displeasure? It’s radiating off you.”

A moment of stillness passed, where she just stared at him, but then her face quickly twisted sourly. She then quietly muttered, “Most men have the good sense to just agree when their wives say they’re fine.”

“Most men are idiots,” Ichigo said dryly. “If my wife’s upset, I’m not about to play dumb and ignore it. I’m going to try and cheer her up.”

Her eyes softened, though she tried to hide it by fussing with his jacket. Slim fingers smoothed over the fabric, tugging at edges that were already perfectly neat. Ichigo arched a brow. “Yasaka,” he said softly, bringing up a hand and pushing a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. “What’s the matter?”

She sighed, exasperated, and finally admitted, “I saw Akihiko today.”

Ichigo’s expression hardened at once at the mention of her ex. Actually, no. Could that asshole even be considered an ex? Just a glorified one-night-stand.

Nevertheless, he forced himself to exhale slowly before his Sin could drag itself to the surface. No matter what, Yasaka mattered more than his own jealous anger, so he pushed down the tide of volcanic fury back into the depths of his Soul. Though he held her a little tighter in his arms. “I assume it didn’t go well?”

Her expression cracked, golden eyes flaring with anger. “No. It did not go well at all.” Her voice rose, sharp and furious. “He said things - outrageous things!” And Ichigo had to admit; he was both impressed and a little wary with the amount of venom she had managed to instill in her words.

“So,” he immediately began to rub her shoulders comfortingly, “lay it on me.”

-----

The throne room of Kyoto’s palace was a quiet, gilded expanse. The floor polished to a mirror’s sheen reflected the light of enchanted lanterns, while tapestries woven with images of a golden sun shimmered faintly in the air. At the far end, Yasaka sat high upon her throne, nine golden tails draped like a mantle of authority. Her bearing was calm, regal, and coldly composed.

And in the simple act of being seated on her throne, she was making it abundantly clear in what capacity this meeting was taking place: a sovereign granting audience to her subject.

Not a meeting of friends.

Below her, Akihiko stood in the shadows between the pillars, the picture of humility in posture yet wearing an expression that betrayed something else. Hope, yes, but also an unmistakable glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes, as if he had already won a victory. Yasaka noted it with tightening lips and a faint rise of irritation. For all the years she had once considered him a friend, that smug look made it clear why she had chosen to meet him in this setting.

Yasaka was no little girl burdened with majesty and purpose. She was the Empress, and she would draw lines without mercy.

“I’ve made my decision” Yasaka’s voice rang sharp and measured, echoing down the hall, “I will not allow you to meet with Kunou.”

His head snapped up, the color draining from his stunned expression.

“Not now. Not ever.”

His lips moved, trembled even, but no sound came out as he stared at her baffled and dumbfounded. And before he could speak, Yasaka continued, pitiless. “Furthermore, you are hereby banned from Kyoto. Until I decide otherwise, you will not set foot in my city again.”

Akihiko stammered, his composure cracking. “W–what? Hime, wait, that’s—”

Her eyes narrowed as her aura projected outward, smothering and oppressive. “I did not give you permission to speak.” The air dropped cold as she leveled her gaze at him. “You disrespected my husband, and in so doing, you disrespected me.”

And no matter the despair and hurt in his eyes, she did not waver. She was well accustomed to making decisions that hurt others, such was the burden of those who would shoulder empires.

“Y-your husband?” He stammered in disbelief. “Hime, Kunou is our daughter, she’s my blo-”

“Enough,” Yasaka cut him off with another wave of holy might, causing him to flinch back down to his knees. “Kunou is my daughter. Mine, and mine alone.” Her voice was iron, her eyes gleaming with righteous Sunfire. “That day, I was perfectly honest with you. I explained to you clearly what siring a child with me would entail. And you agreed. Readily. Whole-heartedly. You relinquished any and all claim to the daughter I birthed willingly.” As she watched his eyes glisten in anguish with every word she spoke, Yasaka softened her tone. “For the sake of four centuries of friendship, please, do not go back on your word now. Let go.”

For a moment Akihiko faltered, he just stared up at her in disbelief, but then his expression twisted in furor. “Let go? Yasaka, listen to yourself! Do you even hear what you’re saying? How cold you sound? How unfeeling? You sound just like your mother!”

Yasaka froze, and though her face remained a mask of perfect composure, she could feel her nails beginning to sharpen into claws.

“The very same mother who made your life miserable! The one who bludgeoned happiness out of every person she ever laid eyes on with her heartless and cruel words!”

How dare you.

Fury seared within her veins, a rage as deep and personal as any demonic ire her husband could dredge forth from the abyss. He had no right, no right at all, to speak of her mother. No right to use words she had spoken to him in confidence centuries ago against her now. “Insulting me will not change my decision,” she said, her voice tight with a deep undercurrent of seething anger.

“I’m not insulting you!” Akihiko cried, stepping forward, desperation mounting. “I’m trying to make you see the truth! Ancestors, Yasaka! Can’t you see? Amaterasu has taken all the kindness and warmth you had and made you an unfeeling puppet! She’s hollowed out your heart and-and she’s filled it with that… that monster you’ve been brainwashed into accepting as a husband!”

Her tails began to flicker, their edges igniting with holy embers, betraying her simmering rage. But Akihiko barreled on, blinded in his zeal.

“Look around you, Hime!” His arms flung wide as if to encompass the palace itself. “This isn’t yours! None of it is! This palace, the servants, the holy aura cultivated, even your so-called empire, all of it built by Takamagahara as a gilded cage! And that Demon? That-that abomination? He’s just another chain they’ve wrapped around your neck!

“Every ounce of your life has been decided for you, every moment planned out to keep you in servitude to the Celestial Heavens. Think about it, no, seriously, think! The only choice, the only real choice you’ve ever made, the only freedom you’ve ever known, was with me! Four hundred years, Yasaka,” he pleaded desperately. “Four hundred years of us that led to you asking me – me,” and he emphasized by pounding his chest, “to father your child.”

And Yasaka stared, stunned. Her rage and words were muted, but not by his passion… but by his sheer, utter, delusion.

“Is this how you’ve seen me?” she whispered disturbed. “A damsel in distress? A fairy tale princess with no agency awaiting some prince?” Revulsion and disgust rose like bile in her throat. Was this what their friendship had been? Akihiko… he had pitied her? Her?

And he believed – no, he was deluded in thinking himself her one ‘freedom’ in life?

And still, with a manic gleam in his eye, he continued on. So wretched and blind.

“Our daughter, Kunou, is the only thing that’s truly yours. I can help you, Yasaka. Let me free you from all of this. I’ve found the power that will let the three of us live together, away from the manipulations of a cruel and uncaring immortal! We can finally be a family!”

In all her centuries, she had never felt so insulted! For Amaterasu-sama. For Ichigo. But most of all, for herself! She was not a fool! She was not some little girl; no pawn shuffled across the board for a higher power’s amusement! She was an Empress! The most powerful Kitsune on the planet! The most influential Yōkai across numerous dimensions! She had built, maintained, and defended her power for centuries!

She was power. She was dread. And she would not stand for Akihiko daring to suggest otherwise.

Her rage returned with the fury of a nova.

She rose from her throne in a single, fluid motion; face warped in vulpine rage and all nine tails unfurled like searing banners of sunlight. Her aura flared outward, shaking the palace to its foundations. The prefecture trembled under her divine might. Waves of holy power rolled like thunder, crashing across Kyoto, rattling windows and sending flocks of birds shrieking into the night.

Oceans of chakra churned with such intensity that the gold in her palace began to drip molten and all around for a hundred miles water began to boil and evaporate to the alarm of humans and supernatural alike.

Akihiko collapsed to his knees, crushed under her power. His voice broke in terror. “Yasaka! W-wait! Calm yourself! Think this throu-!”

“You dare to presume to lecture me on freedom? On happiness? I need no one to tell me what joy is, least of all your miserable fantasies to dictate the life I lead.” Her voice thundered, no longer soft or regal but the roar of the Holy Empress. “

I Am Yasaka

I Am Empress of Kyoto and Nihon in Myth

I Wield the Sun and the Holy Earth

I Slew the Imugi at the Battle of Tsushima

I Repelled the Nightwatchers That Crept in the Shadows of Mortal Wars

And I Need No Lesser Fox to Teach Me

You Are Banished

And with a wave of her hand, golden light surged forth and Akihiko let out a cry as he was expunged from her domain. But at the last second, barely visible to her eyes, a black haze protected the weaker Kitsune as he was forced away.

-----

Ichigo leaned against the carved wood of the chamber door, arms crossed loosely, as Yasaka paced back and forth across the polished floor of her office. Her tails lashed behind her like a storm, the faint shimmer of her aura bleeding through in jagged pulses that prickled against his skin.

He wisely kept his mouth shut. Yasaka was beautiful when she was calm, but when she was angry? Well, to be honest, she was just as beautiful, but in a different way. His inner Sin gleefully soaking in her mounting furor as each furious step echoed her disbelief, her outrage at Akihiko’s words.

“The audacity!” she hissed. “The sheer insolence to tell me nothing I have is truly mine! Centuries of building, of bleeding, of clawing my way through politics and war, and he dares speak like it was all handed over to me?”

Ichigo didn’t interrupt. He had learned long ago that his wife didn’t need reassurance when she was venting - she just needed space and a silent audience. Still, he felt a petty spark of satisfaction each time she tore into Akihiko with venomous scorn. A part of him relished it, hearing her dismantle the other man’s fantasies with every furious word.

But beneath that satisfaction lay something darker. He knew Akihiko wasn’t finished. At this point he understood that Akihiko was essentially an obsessed stalker unable to grasp the reality that Yasaka had clearly rejected him. And obsession rarely, if ever, stopped at rejection; it twisted, fermented, and grew into something monstrous. His gut whispered trouble, and Ichigo trusted his instincts. Akihiko would be back, and when he returned, he’d be more dangerous.

But his thoughts on the other Kitsune rapidly evaporated the moment Yasaka stopped pacing and turned on him.

Her golden eyes glowed, feral and sharp, and her aura rolled across the room like wildfire. There was something primal in it, animalistic, with her Yōkai nature breaking through the careful priestess’s composure she usually wore like fine silk. For the first time in years, Ichigo felt a twinge of wariness at his own wife.

Then she was on him. Her hands fisted into his coat, dragging him down, and her lips crashed against his for a brutal, belligerent kiss. It stole his breath, left him dazed, stunned… and undeniably aroused.

When she tore herself back, strands of her hair clung to his cheek, and he had just enough time to take a gasping breath before her hand shot down between his legs. Fingers closed possessively around his genitals, and Ichigo stiffened, eyes wide.

Suddenly, he was very, very scared.

“I don’t have anything of my own?” she snarled, voice low and feral, speaking to no one but the shadows of her memory. And Ichigo hadn’t felt this much fear since Ulquiorra had beaten him senseless at the summit of Las Noches. “This!” her eyes blazed with a savage light, her grip tightening on his dick. “This is mine!”

…was it wrong he was kind of getting into it?

Before he could muster a response, she shoved him. He braced for the floor, but instead the world twisted. Space folded around him, and he landed hard against silken sheets of Yasaka’s bedchamber.

She stood over him, aura burning, the predator’s edge unmistakable. Her beauty was molten, dangerous, and entirely consuming. Ichigo swallowed thickly, realizing two things at once: one, he was very turned on, and two, he was not in control of what came next.

Kitsune were notoriously aggressive lovers, their instincts sharpened by natures that were naturally seductive and bestial. Yasaka, normally so composed, so regal, had let the mask slip. And the raw force of her instincts was enough to make his pulse thunder in his ears.

“Clothes. Off. Now.” she commanded, voice like steel wrapped in velvet.

 “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled.

The air between them was charged, heavy with fury and hunger both. Usually, when it came to bedroom activities, he was the one taking charge. His Devilish and Demonic nature giving him the edge when it came to setting the pace of their lovemaking. Yasaka had been so inexperienced, so chaste and innocent when they first started having sex. He had taken great pride and delight in molding his wife’s body to his touch, teaching her pleasures of the flesh.

But as he moved to obey, Ichigo thought, not without a flicker of admiration, that letting Yasaka lead the pace for once was both thrilling and novel.

With one mesmerizing motion, Yasaka undid her kimono, letting the fine fabric pool around her feet and reveal his wife’s splendor as she stood nude. He could feel his eyes begin to burn red with demonic power as want and need slammed into him. Hard.

Again, Yasaka shoved him none too gently, and with an amused smile he fell back down to the bed, sitting on the edge.

With delight dancing across his face, he watched as his wife lowered herself to her knees and quickly put his length into her mouth. The softness of her lips and the velvet wetness of her tongue were only further accentuated by the sensual moan she gave. And quickly, very, very quickly, Ichigo found himself hardening in full.

He reached out and threaded his fingers through her golden hair, pulling out her pins and letting her long locks fall heavy and wild all around her. As he felt Yasaka take him down into her throat, he let out a content hum.

Though she quickly pulled back and let him out of her mouth with a pop. As their eyes met, Ichigo could plainly see the red haze of arousal coloring her cheeks, and even more tantalizing, the affronted anger from her earlier rant was still plainly there.

Yasaka stood up with a treacherous grace and easily slid both her hands across his shoulders and around his neck as she planted both knees on the bed. Eyes still clouded with lust and ire, she bit her lower lip as she lowered herself. Ichigo inched forward, sliding through her folds until he hit the entrance of her womb, and Yasaka threw back her head and groaned, “Mine!”

Which would be her mantra for the rest of their night as she rode him to multiple climaxes.

-----

Yasaka awoke slowly, blearily, surfacing from a long, warm dream. Her golden ears twitched at the faint morning light streaming through windows and she let out a deeply satisfied hum. For a moment, she was content to simply remain still, her body heavy, her mind drowsy. But then she slowly realized exactly where she was lying.

Or rather, on who.

Her eyes slowly trailed to the serene expression of her husband, and then slowly dragged back to her own form. Her starkly nude self sprawled across Ichigo’s chest while his arm looped lazily around her waist, firmly keeping them locked together as his demonic heat seeped into her body.

Her drowsy blink turned into a wide-eyed stare as the memories of last night came dripping in one after another; arduous and fierce kisses, scratching and clawing at him till she drew blood with her nails, screaming and moaning his name and reducing him to a mere possession as she degradingly tossed him about the bedroom.

Almost fretfully, Yasaka strained her neck to look around the room. Her vanity mirror was shattered, vases and lamps lay knocked off shelves, and the walls and floors were riddled with holes and deep dents.

Uh-oh.

Yasaka painstakingly tried to move off of Ichigo, but as she slowly maneuvered herself, her eyes went wide as she felt a faint pulse of her husband’s girth still deeply embedded between her walls.

She closed her eyes in a silent sigh of frustration. Moving Ichigo’s arm and sliding him out without waking him was going to be a challenge. She gave an experimental twist of her hips, only for his length to pulse again and begin to harden.

She nearly banged her head against his chest in aggravation. No, no, that’s the exact opposite of what I’m trying to do!

“Morning, princess.”

“Kyaa!”

Yasaka let out a shocked shriek before she could stop herself. She scrambled, grabbing at the sheets in a mad panic to cover herself, tails lashing in every direction. Two of them snapped reflexively up to cover Ichigo’s eyes as if the man hadn’t been utterly devoured by her last night.

Ichigo didn’t even protest. He just laughed. Full, rich, utterly delighted laughter that vibrated through his chest beneath her.

“You were amazing last night. I had no idea you could be such a beast in bed,” he teased, his voice husky with sleep.

Yasaka’s face went crimson. “Th-that wasn’t me!” she sputtered, clutching the sheets tighter and trying to disappear into her tails. “I don’t know what came over me!”

“Pretty sure it was all in you and not over you last night.” He slid his arm tighter around her waist and pulled her flush against him, pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek. “And I liked it. We need to bring out your wild side some more.”

Her entire body burned mortified. “It-it wasn’t me!” she repeated desperately, her hands clenching tight. “You—you must have used your evil Demon magic! Twisted my mind, or-or-you used your Sin on me, didn’t you!”

Ichigo rubbed his nose in her hair, laying kisses across her skull. “Wrong Sin, sweetheart. Mine is the punch you kind, not the fuck you kind.”

She let out a deep groan of exasperation at his joke, even as she shut her eyes tight, as if her embarrassment would simply go away. She was well aware it wasn’t anything he did, as she was just grasping at straws for an excuse. Because of course he hadn’t literally bewitched. Her husband would never do something so heinous like that to her, never mind she would have sensed it instantly. But by the High Heavens, it was easier to accuse him of sorcery than admit she’d essentially lowered herself into acting like some eager whore!

She had spent centuries cultivating discipline, teaching herself restraint, never once forgetting the legacy stamped on her kind.

Throughout history, Kitsune were feared and despised as deceivers; lustful seductresses who devastated families and toppled dynasties with whispered temptations. Folklore painted them as harbingers of shame and ruin. From the moment she inherited her mother’s throne, Yasaka had been the opposite, a shining beacon of cultivated regality and grace amongst Kitsune. A role model for generations, including her own daughter.

And yet… last night she had been nothing more than a beast. A moaning vixen in heat drowning in lust.

Her one saving grace from the ignominy of it all being that she was with her husband. Even if he was proving to be a bit of a jackass about all of it…

Said husband’s chuckle rumbled through her again as he sat up and cradled her to his chest. “Lucifer, you were so hot last night. My pretty, spoiled princess – all demanding and dominating.” He leaned in, lips brushing her ear, and whispered, “And so perverted.”

Yasaka froze, wide-eyed, as a hot shiver darted down her spine. The echo of last night’s heat threatened to rise again, and she shoved it down with a mortified groan. “I am not a pervert!” she declared loudly, more to herself than him.

Ichigo laughed again, the sound infuriatingly affectionate. “Oh, you definitely are. Don’t even try to deny it. You screamed my name to the skies and let everyone in hearing distance know who this dick belongs to. It’s a good thing you have the whole floor to yourself.”

Her hands flew to her face. May Amaterasu cleanse her sinful soul.

“You’re just so used to me leading,” Ichigo continued mercilessly, “that you forget that you love everything I do to you. But last night? That was all you. You took the reins, princess. You’ve got to face it: you’re as big of a pervert as Satan.”

Yasaka peeked out from between her fingers, cheeks burning hotter than any summer sun. “No I’m not!” she squeaked, promptly hiding herself behind the safety of her tails again.

Ichigo only grinned wider. “What’s better than one pervert? Two married ones. Admit it, Yasaka. We’re perfect for each other.”

“Idiot!” she shouted, smacking his chest with her small hands. It didn’t even budge him. His broad grin only grew as he rocked her gently in his arms, his laughter warm against her skin.

Despite herself, her heart softened. But dammit if he wasn’t so incorrigible.

Then her gaze flicked to the window, and the sun’s position in the sky made her heart plummet.

“Oh no. No, no, no, no!” She shoved away from him, scrambling to her feet and clutching the sheets around her. “I’ve missed all my morning appointments!”

She barely made it two steps before Ichigo caught her wrist and tugged her back down onto the bed, pinning her beneath him with infuriating ease. His lips pressed a trail of kisses up her neck, making her breath catch.

“Y-you can’t! Not now!” she protested breathlessly, squirming against his weight. “Ichigo, I have responsibilities!”

“Mmm,” he hummed, ignoring her, lips brushing the curve of her jaw.

“And you-you need to return to the Underworld! You can’t just – anh!” Her protest melted into a moan as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot beneath her ear.

She knew. She knew if he kept this up she’d lose the entire day to him, swallowed in bed under his carnal touch.

But then a sharp knock on the bedroom door saved her, making her look up with hope. “

“Okaa-sama!” Kunou’s bright voice rang out. “You’re late for tea!”

Yasaka froze in horror, Ichigo freezing with her.

“Get off me!” she hissed furiously, shoving at his chest. Then, raising her voice with feigned calm, she called back, “I’ll be ready in a few minutes, dear!”

But much to her horror, Ichigo then shouted cheerfully after her. “Sorry, Kunou! We might be a little late, we’re in the middle of something!”

Yasaka’s blood ran cold. “What are you doing?” she whispered fiercely, as she glared at him hotly. He grinned down wickedly at her and they nearly began to wrestle, until Kunou’s delighted squeal interrupted them. “Onii-sama! You’re back! Will you join us for tea?”

“Of course!” Ichigo replied, grinning down at her, daring her to protest. “Just give us ten - no, fifteen minutes!”

Yasaka glared daggers at him, tails puffing in fury. “What are you up to?” she hissed.

Still grinning mischievously, Ichigo gathered her up in his arms and promptly stood up. Yasaka let out a startled yelp and immediately clapped a hand over her mouth in the hopes that Kunou hadn’t heard her.

 “Okaa-sama? What happened?”

Oh, but of course she did! Damn her own species supernaturally enhanced hearing!

“Your mother tripped over her own tails,” Ichigo answered loudly, his grin positively wicked. “She can be so clumsy, right?”

Yasaka’s glare could have melted iron.

“Anyways, you go on ahead, Kunou,” Ichigo called. “We’ll be right there.”

Then, carrying his furious, flustered, and very much naked wife toward the master bath, he leaned down and whispered into her ear, “We’ve got fifteen minutes, princess. Plenty of time for some fun in the shower.”

“Idiot!” Yasaka hissed, hiding her burning face in his shoulder.

But her heart and body betrayed her, already aching in anticipation.

-----

Ichigo sat stiff-backed on the cushion, hands resting on his knees, staring at the delicate porcelain bowl of tea before him as though it were an opponent he had to defeat. Kunou, sitting across from him in a perfectly proper seiza posture, was turning out to be quite the little tyrant princess.

“No, no, Onii-san,” she said with an exaggerated sigh, her golden tails flicking behind her. “When you lift the cup, you have to turn it twice like this.” She demonstrated with flawless care, her little fingers precise. “And then bow slightly, like you’re thanking the tea itself.”

Ichigo dutifully copied her, if a bit clumsily, only for Yasaka’s voice to float gently over his shoulder.

“You’re both too stiff,” she chided lightly, kneeling beside them in her own perfect grace. “Kunou, your elbows are a touch too high, and Ichigo, don’t grip the cup like you’re about to crush it in a fist.”

Kunou puffed out her cheeks in protest. “Okaa-sama! You’re supposed to be correcting him, not me!”

“And you’re supposed to be teaching him properly,” Yasaka replied smoothly, a fine golden eyebrow raised, daring the young girl to challenge her mother.

Ichigo held back a chuckle. Truthfully, the ceremony itself didn’t capture much of his interest. The precise turns, the too frequent bowing, the reverence for what was essentially powdered leaves in hot water, it all seemed pointless to his iconoclast and impenitent nature. But seeing Yasaka and Kunou so deeply immersed in their focus, so earnest in their corrections, it made it worth every second in his eyes. And he soaked up the sight of his wife and daughter exceling in their element.

He could endure any amount of tea etiquette if it meant sitting here, watching these two alight with delight and passion.

But as the minutes ticked by and by the time their cups were empty, the formality of the lesson had slipped into something more relaxed. Yasaka leaned lightly against his side, her shoulder brushing his arm, while Kunou sprawled forward, her tails flickering with little bursts of foxfire as she practiced elemental conjuration.

“Careful,” Ichigo warned when one burst sputtered a bit too close to the tatami mat. “We don’t want a repeat of you setting another tower on fire again, do we?”

Kunou childishly stuck her tongue out but obeyed, the golden glow of her foxfire on her tails flickered out.

Ichigo held up his own hand. With a faint pulse of will, ordinary orange and yellow flames flickered into life across his fingertips. Kunou’s eyes went round as he began shaping the fire, first into the twirl of a ballerina, delicate legs kicking out in perfect pirouette, then into the form of a playful kitten batting at its tail, and finally, with a sweep of his hand, a long serpentine dragon that wound through the air before dissipating.

“Whoa!” Kunou gasped, her tails waving about with delight. “Onii-san, that was so cool! Teach me!”

Ichigo gave her an expectant look and the young Kitsune immediately straitened herself and sat politely before him with an apologetic look. “Please?”

Better, he thought.

With his and Yasaka’s attention so often consumed with their hefty duties, Kunou had become a little accustomed to bossing and ordering servants around. Nothing a stern look didn’t fix, but still, Ichigo couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d bully her peers into submission if this kept up. And if her playdates with Millicas were anything to go by…

Ichigo withheld a heavy sigh.

The foolish young Devil-boy was proving to be a near carbon copy of his father when it came to matters of the heart. Given that Millicas was the surest candidate to succeed any of the Satans should they decide to retire in the next several centuries, there was a not insignificant chance his daughter would end up in control of not one, but two Empires.

He really needed to have a long conversation with the kid one day.

As for pre-teen heart breaker before him, Ichigo gave her a neutral look as he raised his hand and let his magic flow. “You remember your lessons on the Godai, the Five Elements?” At her energetic nod, he continued, “Fire, in its most primal form, is simply power. Energy made manifest. But power without direction is inert. You must move the power, you must be the impetus that gives it direction. And power given direction leads to manifestation. Infuse your Will, your very desire, to give it shape and form. Make it obey.”

Kunou furrowed her brows, chewing her lip. “I don’t get it.”

“Then try it like this,” Ichigo said, extending his arm. “Hold my wrist.”

She hesitated only a second before wrapping her small fingers just below his palm. Immediately, her eyes widened. “Huh? Your energy is…” She put a finger to her lips in contemplation, but then her little nose scrunched, and she looked at him weird “Onii-san, you feel so creepy!”

Ichigo snorted, low and amused. “Yeah, part of being a Demon.” He let his aura seep gently from his skin, fire blooming across his palm in a slow curl of heat.

“Waaa!” Kunou yelped and snatched her hand back, sure she’d be burned, but Ichigo just chuckled and held the flame out toward her. “You were supposed to be observing my energy,” he said dryly.

She rubbed the back of her head, and had Ichigo been able to read Yasaka’s mind, he’d realize that her nervous movement was she had picked up from him.

With an indulgent smile, he reached out and presented the ball of fire to her. “Here. Take it.”

Tentatively, Kunou cupped her hands beneath his. When the flame dropped into her palms, she gasped. It licked across her skin harmlessly, warm but not scorching.

“It doesn’t hurt!”

“Because I don’t want it to,” Ichigo explained simply. “I told you, it’s about Will. You must want it to obey.”

She furrowed her small brows. “How?”

“Focus, pour your desires into the fire, and make it understand what you want. Think on what you want it to burn, what you don’t want it burn.”

He blinked twice before nodding in determination. Her concentration grew fierce, and as she focused, the fire shimmered from red to gold, then wavered and reshaped itself into the form of a tiny fox. Kunou squealed with delight… right before the flame flickered and vanished into smoke.

“I got this!” she declared, immediately summoning her own foxfire to try once more while getting up to pace around as she focused better on her feet.

Ichigo leaned back, watching her determination with quiet pride. Beside him, Yasaka threaded her fingers through his and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered softly. “It’s moments like these that are worth living for.”

He squeezed her hand gently, turning to nuzzle against her hair. “No need to thank me. I love being here, being part of her life. Giving her a little guidance when I can. Not that she needs much of it. Her instincts are damn sharp. But, speaking from similar experience, it’s good to have someone to point the way sometimes.”

Yasaka’s eyes softened, her smile touched with quiet reverence. “It is a wise father that knows his own child,” she murmured lovingly.

Ichigo chuckled faintly, recognizing the Shakespearean quote. “It’s been a while since we’ve the Merchant of Venice. Actually, been a while since we’ve seen anything. We should make sometime.”

She didn’t answer right away. When he glanced down, he found her gazing at him with something deep, something vulnerable. Her lips parted, and she whispered, “I love you.”

Warmth spread through his chest. He leaned down, forehead brushing hers, and whispered back, “Love you too, princess.”

Their kiss was brief, chaste, but no less profound for its simplicity. And around them, the room glowed with foxfire and soft sunlight, Kunou’s laughter bubbling as she tried again and again to shape her flame.

And for a fleeting moment, Ichigo forgot the wider world.

-----

A/N: I would be lying if I said I had fun writing this chapter. Fun is something that's been far from my mind this week. But I did end up putting a lot of thought into it. Rukia and Ichigo's friendship (chiefly their mutual trust through a shared tension) juxtaposed with the utter collapse of Yasaka and Akihiko's friendship. A sprinkle of a distant mother who's desires obedience over honest communication and an irreverant son who has convinced himself there no longer a chance for honesty.

A wife willing to share her frustrations over a broken bond and a husband who can push past his insecure jealous vindication and give his wife's emotion's priority. The use of sex, not as an expression of love and intimacy, but as an outlet of anger, resentment and selfishness. The morning after where the realization hits, the clarity of having degraded and demeaned yourself and/or your partner through your uncontrolled desires (had not one of them been a Demon who's kind of into that.)

And of course, the culmination of everything where through good and bad, it's the choices you make (as an individual, as a family) that ultimately leads you to willing your wants into shape and form. Family is tough, family is complicated. But if everyone just wills that shared want, it's damn worth it.

All my love to you and your families. See you next week.