#ichihitsu

Quiet Minds

Chapter 1

‘…there she stood in the doorway,

I heard the mission bell,

And I was thinking to myself,

This could be heaven or this could be hell…’

“Sir? Is that all?”

The cashier behind the counter looked at Ichigo expectantly. Ichigo couldn’t hear her thoughts but there was definitely disapproval in her eyes, probably due to the fact that he had not removed the headphones from his ears when he had come up to the counter, and his music was so loud that she could undoubtedly hear some of it. Ichigo was unbothered by this. He was already used to receiving this look.

He nodded. “Sure.”

“That’ll be four-hundred yen, then.”

Ichigo watched the way her lips formed the words and withdrew the correct amount of cash. Waving off her proffered plastic bag, he pocketed the cigarettes and gum and stepped out of the convenience store to the sound of Don Felder’s electric guitar.

When he was a bit away from the store he retrieved a cigarette and lit it, trying to relax himself.

Standing on a street corner, he watched the other people milling about. Some of them were also freshmen and would be his peers for the next year, and perhaps even the next four years. He considered, briefly, if he should remove his headphones and listen for a bit. Three years ago, he had similarly stood before the front gates of Karakura High School and thought the same thing. Back then, he hadn’t started smoking yet.

Ichigo put the cigarette out, stuffed a piece of minty fresh gum in his mouth and headed off to the Student Accommodations office.

&&&

“I’m sorry, Kurosaki-kun, there’s nothing we can do.”

The bespectacled woman, Ise Nanao, her staff badge read, shuffled through his papers like there might appear information there she hadn’t already been through.

“Though your circumstances do seem somewhat special, it’s not enough to warrant any special kind of accommodation.”

Though Ichigo still hadn’t removed his headphones, he had turned the volume down, so he could hear her voice a little. She sounded genuinely regretful.

“I understand,” he said. “Thank you, though.”

He got up, accepting the file of his documents from the woman. She gave him a sympathetic look.

“Although,” she said suddenly, “If there is a short number of lodgers this semester, I can make sure that you get a room to yourself. However, I don’t want to get your hopes up for this. Admissions this year has already reached capacity, so it’s unlikely it will happen.”

“Thank you,” Ichigo said sincerely before he left.

When he had been applying for universities far away from his hometown, he had known that this would be an issue. The dorms didn’t allow for single rooms, not for freshmen at least. To be by himself, he would have to rent outside the campus, something the rich kids did with ease but which was too expensive for Ichigo, considering he would be paying for it himself given that his scholarship only covered tuition and books. He had expected, with his luck, he would end up rooming with someone. Despite this expectation, he hadn’t quite figured out how he was going to survive that yet.

Outside Ise Nanao’s office was a small reception room. Walk-in meetings took place here, with more staff members seated behind small wooden desks with a few chairs before them. One meeting caught his attention.

It was a small family, what looked like a grandmother and two grandchildren.

The grandmother and her granddaughter, a pretty young woman, were seated before the staff member. Behind them stood the grandson, a boy about a head shorter than Ichigo but probably around the same age. He stood out by his rather stark white hair.

At first, Ichigo just gave them a passing glance. But as he did this, his eyes caught the movement of the young woman’s lips and he stopped short.

Able to read lips.

That was what she was saying. It struck Ichigo as funny that the thing she was talking about was what he was doing to her right then. Intrigued, Ichigo continued to observe her, basically eavesdropping. From his angle, he could only see the face of the young woman and the staff member.

From what he could gather, the young woman was describing a person who could at least be able to read lips, while the staff member was, regretfully, informing them that that was a skill they had no way of knowing if other students possessed, as it wasn’t usually mentioned on any official documents.

The staff member could only suggest that they put out some sort of advertisement for such a roommate.

This caught Ichigo’s attention. So, one of the grandkids was a student then, and they needed a roommate who could at least read lips. Though he couldn’t hear her, it seemed like the granddaughter could speak and hear just fine, so it probably wasn’t for her. It had to be for the boy then.

Ichigo lingered longer. At this point, the granddaughter shifted her body and Ichigo could no longer see her face. He hesitated for a moment and then did something he hadn’t done in public in years—

He took off his headphones.

Hanging them around his neck, he was immediately assaulted with the sudden influx of noises—a copier somewhere nearby whirring, the squeaky wheels of an office chair being rolled across the floor, and of course, the indistinct sounds of people chatting. Worse than that, though, were the sounds of thinking.

Lucky for Ichigo, there weren’t many people around. Behind him, he thought he heard Ise Nanao think about whether she should have lunch with her uncle or not. A maintenance man working on an elevator nearby was wondering where his screwdriver was. And of course, there was the family before him.

Ichigo focused in on the granddaughter, just in time for him to hear, quite distinctly, Poor Tōshirō.

Tōshirō, he assumed, was the white-haired boy.

The staff member: I wish I could help, but I can’t do anything for you.

The grandmother: Tōshirō, this school is so big, will you be okay here?

The granddaughter: Don’t worry, Shiro-chan, it won’t be so bad. We’ll put a message up on the freshman Facebook page and work something out.

Ichigo couldn’t pick up anything from the boy himself, so he tried to focus on him, almost burning a hole into the back of his head.

But there was nothing. Not even white noise.

But then the granddaughter thought something that lit a lightbulb in Ichigo’s head.

Shiro-chan’s been deaf since he was born, he’ll have to get use to things like this sooner or later.

As Ichigo watched, the girl turned to the boy and signed this to him.

So he was deaf, and had been since he was born. Was this why Ichigo couldn’t hear his thoughts? Because he had never learned how to verbalize them?

Ichigo would have continued to listen, but then the door behind him opened and Ise Nanao stepped out. Ichigo became aware of her presence because he distinctly heard her think Oh, Kurosaki-kun’s still here, and he swung around.

“Kurosaki-kun? Was there something else?”

Ichigo quickly returned his headphones to his ears, to which she raised her eyebrows.

“Is there a freshman Facebook group?” he asked.

“There is,” she replied, surprised. “There’s a flyer in my office of all the social groups, give me a moment.”

She quickly retrieved the flyer and handed it to Ichigo. By this time, Tōshirō and his family were leaving the office. Ichigo watched them go, catching sight of the other boy’s face for the first time.

He had a very young face, one that hadn’t yet lost the last of its childish roundness. His frown made him seem very serious though, thin white brows furrowed over rather large green eyes. He was signing something to who Ichigo guessed was his sister, though they didn’t look alike, so quickly that Ichigo was only able to discern Don’t bother.

“Will that be all, Kurosaki-kun?”

Ichigo turned his attention back to Ise and nodded.

“Yes, thank you.”

Ichigo didn’t see the small family when he walked out of the building, but he took the flyer with him back to his aunt’s car, slipping it into the folder with his other documents.

When he was safely inside the car, he finally took his headphones off and tossed them in the passenger seat. It was a long drive back to his aunt’s house and he was looking forward to relieving his ears of the headphones. Instead, he turned the radio on.

Adele’s Rolling in the Deep was just getting into its first chorus. He turned the volume up to a level he knew couldn’t be heard outside the closed windows and pulled out from the parking lot.

When Ichigo turned into his aunt’s driveway, his uncle Ganju was waiting for him.

This uncle of his was born too late for Ichigo to call him uncle—he was only a few years older, after all, though when the man wanted to be a special pain, he’d harass Ichigo about his lack of respect for his elders.

Ichigo quickly put his headphones back on, clicking the little Bluetooth button to connect to his phone.

The heavily synthesized beats of Cher’s Believe slowly built up in his ears, effectively deafening him to the sounds around him. Ichigo retrieved his things from the car and stepped out.

“About time you got back,” Ganju greeted him, holding a hand out for the keys. “I’m late for a movie with the boys!”

Ichigo dropped the keys into his palm. “You sound like a girl,” he said flatly.

“What was that, you punk? What part of boys sounds like a girl?”

“Whatever.” Ichigo walked away from him. It didn’t look like his aunt was home yet, so if Ganju was going out then he’d be alone for a few hours.

Behind the wheel, Ganju laid on the horn for a moment, the only way to get Ichigo’s attention when he wasn’t facing him.

“What?” Ichigo yelled at him over his shoulder.

“Give. Bonnie. A. Bath.” Ganju enunciated to him.

Ichigo rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure his Aunt Kukaku had told Ganju to bathe Bonnie this morning.

Bonnie, the little pink pig, was in her playpen in the living room. Neither Kukaku nor Ganju had children, but they did have a pig.

Bonnie squealed and bounded up to Ichigo when he came in. He reached down to pet her head, smiling.

Animals couldn’t think, at least not in a way Ichigo could pick up on, so he removed his headphones and set about filling the bathtub with water. While Bonnie happily splashed around, chewing on some squeaky rubber toy, Ichigo pulled out his phone.

He had been staying with his aunt and uncle for a week and had been mostly ignoring the texts and messages from back home during that time. He had only replied to the ones in the family chat, since it was usually Yuzu checking up on him and it wouldn’t be in his best interest to needlessly worry her.

But his friends had been sending him messages too, and Ichigo had left those unread.

The most recent was from Tatsuki in the group chat: Let us know what time you get back into town, we’re having dinner at Orihime’s.

Ichigo hesitated, but the message had already been open so, at least in a group chat, they would be able to see that he had read it.

Not sure, might be very late, he replied and then quickly put his phone away.

While Bonnie was rolling around on the towels Ichigo had laid out for her on Ganju’s bed, he opened up his laptop. He wasn’t much of a Facebook person, preferring platforms like Reddit and Discord for his online socializing, mostly because he didn’t know another person who used them. But he kept the account around because his friends and family were very much active on it. Bypassing the unchecked notifications, updates, and game requests, he retrieved the flyer and searched for the university’s freshman Facebook group.

It was a very active page, mostly stylized, preppy posts by the admins welcoming the new students and advertising the freshman orientation events that would be running for the next week or so, and also people asking questions.

It seemed like Tōshirō’s sister had wasted no time putting a post up on the page. Her name was Hinamori Momo and her post was asking for a male roommate who knew sign language or lip reading who could room with a deaf person for the next semester. If they were interested, they could contact her via her Facebook profile.

There wasn’t much engagement on the post, a few likes and reactions, but no replies. Ichigo figured anyone serious about it would message Hinamori-san directly. Clicking into her profile, he found pictures of the young woman he had seen at the office before. He had to trawl her page for a moment before he found one with the white-haired Tōshirō.

The picture had been posted only a year ago but had been clearly taken long before. Momo and Tōshirō were much younger, probably in their early teens. They were sitting behind a Harry Potter themed birthday cake, dressed in Harry Potter robes (complete with the pointed hats and all), with Harry Potter decorations in the background. Tōshirō was wearing the iconic round glasses and he was holding a wand. His face was serious even back then but one side of his mouth was tilted up in a little half smile.

Hinamori-san’s caption was:

‘Spent my day celebrating with this guy. Don’t blame me for the picture guys, this is the only one I have. Yes, really.’

And then she followed up with a line of smiling, laughing, and birthday-themed emojis.

Unfortunately, Tōshirō wasn’t tagged in the photo, and a search of Tōshirō Hinamori didn’t yield any results.

Nevertheless, Ichigo opened up a chat with Hinamori-san and quickly typed up a message, letting her know that he knew sign language and lip reading, and was looking for a roommate himself.

He left it at that and closed the laptop.

Bonnie had taken up chewing on the edge of the magazine Ganju kept hidden under his pillow. Ichigo picked her up and brought her back downstairs. The front door was opening, and Ichigo scrambled to get his headphones on while balancing a squeaky pig.

His Aunt Kukaku stepped inside, toting in a few shopping bags.

“Ah, Ichigo, come help me with this.”

Ichigo deposited Bonnie on the couch and went over to her.

“How was registration?” she asked.

“Fine, mostly hassle-free. My move in day is next Wednesday.”

Kukaku leaned a hip against the kitchen counter. “That doesn’t give you much time to spend at home,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe you should leave today. I don’t mind driving you tonight.”

“No, it’s alright,” Ichigo quickly said. “It’s already late and you just got home from work. Plus, there’s an issue with my roommate I want to sort out here first before I go back.”

“You didn’t get through with the administration then?” his aunt asked, frowning.

He shook his head. “It won’t be so bad though,” he reassured her. “I think my roommate is a quiet guy. I’ll manage.”

Aunt Kukaku looked like she wanted to say more but Ichigo turned away from her, putting away the groceries.

After they had eaten dinner and Ichigo had showered, he opened up his laptop again. There was a message from Hinamori-san.

‘Hello, Kurosaki-kun! Thank you for messaging me! We’ll be on campus tomorrow…how about we have lunch together at the café in the Student Building? Around 12? Let me know. Looking forward to seeing you!’

Hanging his towel over his shoulders to catch the rest of the water dripping from his hair, he quickly typed out a reply:

‘Sure. See you then.’

&&&

Overworked. 

A simple word to his ears, with a familiar swirl of lethargic waves sweeping through his bones at just the thought. For the hard-working tenth division captain, Toshiro Hitsugaya, it was a recurring trend in his busy lifestyle; he’d fallen into that category so often with his workload. To him it was merely a monthly irritant that plagues him, or a momentary downfall every other week, he couldn’t quite tell. He’d even began to believe it was his persistent state of being, made normal just for him.

Headaches, dizziness, nausea and tumbling over with each fainting spell. With the loss of vision as words swam and disappear off his pages. Yes. It was so normal for him to reach his limits and nosedive off the cliff of self-care to the bottomless pit of no return. Yet each time he learnt to climb out halfway, making an effort only for his work to continue before inevitably falling back down again. 

What a joke.  

Which only made his current endeavour all the more hypocritical.

“Shit sake, Kurosaki,” a grumble comes from the Captain as he ambles down the hallway, plastic bag shuffling noisily by his side. As the number 15 comes into view he sighs, already worn out by Ichigo’s usual rebellious attitude towards help before even seeing him. 

“Crap!” A voice almost howls from behind the door, but Toshiro only rolls his eyes at the assumed idiocy of his orange moron. He knocks lazily on the door and an array of banging follows before someone speaks hesitantly, “Who is it?”

“Open the door Kurosaki, I won’t ask again.” He receives silence, which only causes his eye to twitch. Of course, this idiot would hide away in his bedroom, embarrassed and unwilling to face the Captain in his current state. It had previously taken him a solid twenty minutes of arguing the first time he’d arrived, and of course, he was to face those same struggles yet again with his sickly boyfriend.

Overworked is Hitsugaya’s speciality, yes, but it is just so ironic that he had fallen for the one person who mirrored him perfectly. Why did the only person he like have to be as useless as him with self-care? How brilliant. Hitsugaya often wondered if this was payback for his horrible inability to care for himself, a battle of hypocrisy he had to butt heads with. 

Toshiro groans loudly, and without even giving Ichigo a second chance the Captain barges into the room without a second thought. With the bag of goods in hand, the Captain is ready to scold the other for his childish ways. Lecturing him to death would be a fun option, perhaps.

“I told you I wouldn’t ask-“ Hitsugaya stops dead in his tracks, frozen halfway over the threshold, his angry gaze morphed into utter embarrassment. His pale cheeks burn and eyes gape. The bare form of his boyfriend stands before him, cowering over as hands cover his—oh god. 

“Toshiro! I didn’t say to come in!” The teen's voice squeaks as he stumbles to his bed, though the captain couldn’t tell why as he instantly averted his gaze moments earlier. Nothing was seen, thank Christ, yet Toshiro can’t settle the fire in his cheeks. Rosy blush makes his teal irises pop, the innocence in his face becoming apparent. He is a bit of a prude in all honesty, and he didn’t even try to fight that fact, well, unless it was one of those idiot subordinates Ikkaku or Renji or whatnot. 

“I-“ He starts, clearing his throat as he tries to compose himself once more. “Shut up, dressed or not you would have ignored me.” Toshiro justifies pathetically, hands bawling up with unease. He holds out the bag of medication and huffs. “For your head.” The bag gets thrown at his boyfriend, not caring as it hits him. 

Even Toshiro has to admit his way of showing he cares is rather, ah, difficult to handle. Whether it’s inexperience or general denial, Hitsugaya is one to resort to grumpy growling and profusely using the word ‘idiot’ in the most endearing way he can—kind of.  

“Ah! Hey! Why so-“ Ichigo barely finishes his sentence before he groans in pain. Toshiro peaks over cautiously, thankful that Ichigo is now at least clad in his pants. Ichigo holds a hand to his head as he doubles over in pain, sitting heavily on his bed, skin melting of the colour he usually glowed with. He looked thin and frail, weak and rather sick. 

“Are you alright?” With true sincerity Hitsugaya reaches out in worry, stepping forward to try to place a hand on Ichigo’s shoulder as his attitude washes away for a moment, but the teen simply chuckles weakly as he straightens. It makes Toshiro wince when Ichigo lifts his head to reassure him of his well being, the dark circles hung heavy below his eyes: a horrible sight. 

“See, fine!” He says with a lopsided smile, swaying dangerously as he tries to stand straight. Scratching his neck sheepishly, Ichigo tries to play down his weakness, much to Toshiro’s irritation. 

“Oh? Really?” Comes the Captain’s deadpanned response. A dull look takes over the once worried expression, without hesitation, he reaches out and pushes on Kurosaki’s chest with little effort. He rolls his eyes comically as the lanky teen falls backwards onto the bed like a stiff board. 

“Moron.” 

“Ouch, that wasn’t nice.”

“Oh, bite me.”

“Kink- ah!” 

The elbow to the gut Toshiro gives Ichigo as he sits beside him was a low blow but Hitsugaya doesn’t care. He can’t quite tell how the substitute could manage such stupid comments even when burnt out; did he have an extra energy source just to be annoying? More so to the point, Toshiro often wonders why he did actually find those god awful comments amusing.

“Look, take these for your headache and rest. You can’t get better by messing around, now sleep.” He picks up the bag and proceeds to pop the pills into his hand, shoving it in Ichigo’s face. The ginger screws his face up at the sight of the small white tablets, turning away and sighing. 

“Ugh, but I need water though.” Ichigo surrenders—after the icy glare that pierces through him. Hitsugaya gives a smug look as he pulls out a water bottle, much to Ichigo’s dismay. 

Finally, he gives in, sitting up as he takes the pills and unscrews the bottle, slipping them down his throat with a foul look on his face. 

“Your bedside manner is disgraceful,” Ichigo mutters, earning an eye roll, before chuckling lightly. 

“Now rest. That’s an order.” The captain states firmly. He can’t stand to see Ichigo any longer, not in the state he is in. It makes his stomach spin, and not in a good way. The sight of the one he loves like this makes his chest hurt and teeth grind in frustration. He feels useless and hypocritical to all hell, and that’s what drove him to do his best to help. 

With headache sorted there is nothing more he can do but convince Ichigo to sleep. Rest is the one thing Toshiro swears by, even if it is something he struggles with at night—hard. But naps are a godsend and his favoured afternoon activity, maybe that is why his boyfriend’s sister and also Ichigo often call him an old man at heart. 

He stands to leave when suddenly a hand graced his, hot, sticky, and rather boney. 

“Wait,” Ichigo starts, a yawn tearing through his sentence. Toshiro looks back at the gloomy teen, worn out and pale, a sight he doesn’t want to focus on too much. “Stay with me?”

“What for? You need to rest, Kurosaki.” The hold on Toshiro’s wrist tightens, Ichigo’s face softening as he averts his gaze. He seems almost uneasy whilst his fingers mess with the sheets. Toshiro frowns, growing somewhat impatient and confused with his boyfriend's actions. 

“I have to go, Rangiku is hiding out downtown probably spending our budget on useless crap,”

“Stay with me, please,” Ichigo repeats his words with a hint of hesitation. He almost seems scared and cautious of his question, which only serves to make Hitsugaya’s frown deepen with confusion. “I can’t sleep alone lately. Or maybe I don’t want to.” 

“I-“ his words take Toshiro by surprise, eyes widening as he stutters slightly with shock. He isn’t sure how to respond, nor did he know whether to stay or not. Toshiro didn't need to do any work right now, his subordinates are manning the patrols, and Rangiku, well, she is a matter of her own.

“I’m sorry,” The Captain jolts from his train of thought, blinking pathetically at Kurosaki. He can’t understand what Ichigo is asking for and neither did he know what garnered the apology. For a moment the genius feels utterly stupid. 

“I didn’t mean to push boundaries I just wanted to have you by my side. Not just a visit but more...well, close.” The crimson glow of Ichigo’s face is mirrored on Toshiro’s puzzled features as Hitsugaya’s cheeks are once again set alight. 

He swallows thickly as he stares at Kurosaki for a few moments more, weighing his options. 

Was it so bad? To stay and rest with his boyfriend? It should be a simple decision, they are dating after all. Yet the thought of being so close almost made him feel uneasy, body fidgeting at the thought of even a hug. Hugging isn’t his favoured thing, not by a mile. And yet…

Ichigo’s hand releases Toshiro, falling lazily as he turns away and flops down onto the mattress, muttering another apology and somewhat dismissing the question. An arm sling over his eyes and a sigh huffs past his lips, and Toshiro watches with a soft look. Ichigo looks like a sad lost puppy, and that should make the captain roll his eyes — well it does — yet he mostly feels an amusing bubble rise in his chest at the sight. The big, strong saviour of soul society wants the icy genius of all people to cuddle with him. Who would have ever thought?

“You’re such a baby when worn down.” The grumble stirs Ichigo out of his sulking attitude for a moment, but Toshiro has already moved closer, flicking his shoes off before laying down next to him. 

Honey orbs widen at Hitsugaya, shock written all over blanched features.

A brow raises at him, and he tries hard to hide his blush as he rolls his eyes. “What? You wanted me to stay?” He mutters, not letting his eyes meet Ichigo’s. 

“I…I am just surprised,” Ichigo mumbled into his pillow, half hiding the smile and faint blush also dusting upon his features. 

“Shut up and rest now.” The captain orders, though tone soft and void of the usual demanding ring. He rolls over to escape Ichigo’s adorable face, the regrettable denial of his feelings for the idiot still strong in his stubborn attitude. A glare fixes on the wood nightstand, fussing to himself about his situation when a strong arm snakes over his waist, hugging him close to warmth and sturdy chest. 

“I appreciate you, Toshiro.” The sleepy whisper aids in heating up the captains blush by tenfold, hesitant hands clasping over the arm around him. He sighs, oddly comfortable in the hold. 

“So do I, Ichigo,” Hitsugaya’s words were barely audible to even himself, let alone the now snoozing ginger behind him. Yet he smiled at the nuzzle he received into his hair, eyes fluttering shut soon after. 

‘I appreciate you more than anything.’