Chapter Text
After all is said and done, when a war has been fought and won is anyone truly happy?
Ichigo Kurosaki stared up at his apartment ceiling as the rain pattered gently against the window. He couldn’t tell you how long he’d been there, waiting for a call that will never come, a hollow that he can’t see, a problem that he can’t solve. Not anymore.
His burnt chocolate eyes close as he sighs and sits up on his used mattress, the shadows under his eyes highlighting the paleness of his skin.
When he moved in it was pretty short notice, so he only really had the essentials, mismatched furniture such as a desk, a wardrobe a night stand. It was on sale and really the only thing he could afford with his meagre part time job, if you could even call it that.
‘Speaking of..’ Ichigo glances at his watch and takes note of the time.
‘Shit’ running a hand through his vibrant, now shoulder length hair with a huff, he hoists himself up from his mattress and grabs his black hoodie from it was folded on his desk.
He grabbed his keys from his nightstand as he strode towards the door his footsteps causing the worn floorboards to creak.
Ichigo pats himself down ensuring that he has all he needs before pulling the black mask attachment up over his mouth and nose and chucking the hood over his distinctive tangerine coloured hair.
The rougher parts of karakura town had only gotten worse through the years since Ichigo had gained and lost his powers, whereas before Ichigo and chad used to monitor the worst of the thugs, now nobody was brave enough to stand up to the local gangs and the authorities who were stationed in the upper class part of karakura couldn’t care less.
Ichigo pondered this as he slinked through the darkened alleyways, heading towards the pick up area.
He stops at the mouth of a deserted alley before digging out his phone from his pocket.
Raising an eyebrow at the screen he clicks the off button and eyes the alleyway again before huffing out another breath and reluctanty heading into the alley.
The first thing that hits him is the smell of rotten garbage, it’s so strong that it infiltrates the fabric of his mask causing Ichigo to gag.
“Ugh what the fuck” he mutters passionately “what the hell died here?” Uselessly Holding one hand over his nose he begins to search for the package.
He’s been working with the local gangs for around three months, collecting “packages” from places and depositing them elsewhere, he refused to do anything more than that.
Why is he doing this you ask? Karakura doesn’t have many jobs that require ex spiritual soldiers, plus his obscure hair colour doesn’t exactly scream “hire me” especially how he practically flunked high school going after hollows. Now he just studies illustration at community collage because he can’t afford anything else.
The orangette snorts and shakes his head as he rifles through bags of food waste, before finding a heavy-ish wax brown paper bag with a red sticker.
Still, he thinks it’s better then wasting away back home.
Ichigo had left home a year ago on bad terms, having gotten tired of the way that his dad ‘encouraged’ him to live normally, which honestly? That was bullshit, considering that even before rukia has come along, he’d been able to see ghosts and all that shit. And it’s not like he had friends left to bunk with for awhile.
But whatever, what’s done is done, he thinks to himself harshly as he places the package in another alleyway a 20 minute walk away from the original, nodding at a gang member a little way away.
He walks home with a wad of cash in his wallet, enough for a month of rent and a little to put towards his savings.
Yuzu makes most of his meals to-go anyway.
And so Ichigo kurosaki, Ex- substitute shinigami walks home feeling more alone then he’s ever Been before.