Chapter Text
Kurosaki Ichigo is born with a head of hair the color of fresh apricots and eyes that glow orange when the light hits them at just the right angle.
For a newborn, he is surprisingly quiet. He cries just as loud as any other baby when he wants something—milk, attention, Mom, a diaper change—but he is otherwise quiet when swaddled in his baby blankets or simply content to lay on his back and stare up at the gently spinning mobile above his crib.
The first time he is brought to Urahara Shouten by the happy parents, Kisuke sees the glow of potential power in the babe, something far beyond the realms of Shinigami, Quincies, and Hollows, something that should not have been born of an amalgamation of all three and yet still exists. He chooses not to mention it to the couple who are now cooing over their son as he fusses in his mother’s arms.
Masaki asks if he would like to hold Ichigo; Kisuke almost says no. Almost. He is responsible for ruining so many lives, and this one too is just another of his many machinations. But as the young mother holds him out and a single chubby hand reaches out and grabs Kisuke’s sleeve, he doesn’t have the heart to decline.
Holding Ichigo is… an interesting experience. The baby is unusually warm to the touch, and that same warmth seems to spread to Kisuke when he touches the infant’s skin. It’s calming. Kisuke can feel something within him settle at the contact, and he wonders.
When the family leaves, Kisuke returns to his lab to test something, and the strange warmth stays with him for days afterwards.
Ichigo is five the first time his flames physically manifest.
Masaki goes outside to check on her five-year old son after putting the twins down for a nap, and nearly has a heart attack when she catches him setting himself on fire.
“Ichigo!” She runs over to him and attempts to extinguish the flames burning merrily on his head and his hands.
He just stares at her in confusion and asks what she’s doing. Masaki pauses and actually looks at him. He isn’t screaming. He isn’t rolling around on the ground in pain. If anything, the flames seem to just be there. Cautiously she reaches out, expecting it to burn, and finds nothing more than a gentle caress of warmth.
“Ichigo, what is going on?” she asks haltingly. The tendrils of fire in her son’s hair leap and flicker like actual flames, but she can also feel them curl lovingly around her fingers. It’s the same warmth that she feels inside of her whenever she holds him close. She doesn’t understand: neither she nor Isshin possesses such powers, so how on Earth…?
Ichigo shrugs. “Don’t know. But they’re pretty, right? Do you like them?” he enquires bashfully, peering up at her. His eyes glow orange, the same color as his flames.
Now that she knows that her son isn’t in any immediate danger, she relaxes. “Yes, honey, they are very pretty,” she says, ruffling his hair. Ichigo giggles, and the flames fade away. “Now, why don’t I make something for lunch?”
Her son lights up at the mention of food, as he always does, and it’s a relief to know that the flames haven’t changed Ichigo in some way. Perhaps they are simply an intrinsic part of him, the way Quincy powers are a part of her or the way that Isshin is—was— a Shinigami.
Later, when Ichigo and the twins are long asleep and she and Isshin are readying for bed themselves, that is when she brings it up to him, “Darling, do you know why Ichigo’s powers have manifested as flames?”
“Flames?” he repeats, looking about as confused as she feels about this whole subject. “Ichigo’s?”
“I saw them, and they didn’t burn him. Or me,” she adds. “That’s not a Shinigami power, is it?”
He shakes his head. “Not without a zanpakutou, no.”
“I see.”
“You’re positive that’s what you saw?”
“Yes, I’m sure. They can’t be anything else.”
Isshin looks contemplative. Silently they both agree to keep a closer eye on their son to observe his mysterious powers. Isshin will ask Kisuke about them when he gets the chance.
Masaki pulls Ichigo to the side in the morning and tells him not to show off his new powers at school.
“Why not?” he asks around a mouthful of grilled fish.
“Listen, Ichigo. There are very bad people out there who will come after you if you use those flames in public. Your father and I, we don’t want you to be hurt. So please, Ichigo, don’t use your powers unless you’re at home or we say it’s okay,” Masaki pleads.
Seeing how serious his mom is about this, Ichigo can only nod and promise.
Kisuke doesn’t understand the strange phenomenon either, when Isshin asks about it. The scientist has seen much in his few centuries of life, but nothing like this. He asks if he can have a day to study them.
Isshin says yes, but Masaki…
Says no.
Kisuke respects her wishes and stays out of the way. Little Ichigo is only five after all; it may be more fruitful to wait until he’s older and possibly has more control over the mysterious flames.
Another point of contention is that despite Ichigo’s manifestation of unknown powers, his twin sisters show no signs of it at all. Karin can see spirits the same as her older brother while Yuzu can only see vague outlines, but neither of them feel an intrinsic ‘warmth’ inside of them like Ichigo can feel. Perhaps that’s why they cling to him every chance they get, to feel that warmth pass through his skin and into them, filling them up, relaxing them with the promise of being safeguarded.
Sometimes, when they’re in the safety of their own yard and they’re sure no one is looking, Ichigo will summon his flames and do little tricks with them, shaping them into small light balls that he can juggle, dancing pegasi for Yuzu, or fighting ninjas for Karin.
All the while either Masaki or Isshin will watch from the doorway, equal parts fascinated and bewildered.
But it fits. Young Ichigo with his bright orange hair and eyes that glow with power, his small fists wreathed in flames and hair alight with fire. He is their little protector, and if the flames will help him live up to that, they have no wish to take that away from him.
Then comes the rain and a devastating trap laid by a Hollow. Young Ichigo hadn’t yet learned to completely differentiate between ghosts and human beings. He is nine when he discovers for the first time that his flames can’t always protect the things closest to his heart.
Masaki dies on top of him, and Ichigo can do nothing but scream.
The funeral is a blur in his mind, dark and rainy and devoid of warmth. His flames don’t come back, so he feels cold and numb even when Isshin gathers him and the twins into a crushing hug, tears leaking down his face.
He has just lost the sun in his sky, and he doesn’t understand why it hurts far more than it should.
It's so cold.
A year later, Isshin takes to randomly surprise-attacking him out of nowhere, in hopes of seeing Ichigo move on from the hollow shell he’s become since Masaki passed on. Not once in that entire year has Ichigo used his flames. His hair remains short and orange, his eyes like fragile glass in his face, and Isshin can’t stand it. Masaki would scold him to hell and back for letting Ichigo remain in this sorry state.
Isshin can’t claim to be the best father, but he cares. He was raised in the Shiba clan, where exuberance knows no bounds, and that’s all he knows how to do, how to be. Even if his children become fed up with him, or call him useless, or outright dismiss him, any reaction is better than one on the verge of death without even dying.
So he attacks, again and again, sends his son flying out the window if he isn’t fast enough, punches him slowly enough to counter if he tries, and hopes desperately to rekindle the dead embers of Ichigo’s heart, hopes to see the flames of life rise within him once more.
When Ichigo turns eleven, for the first time, he punches back.
And if there’s orange flames trailing behind his magical fire-enhanced fists, Isshin doesn’t care how stupid he looks when he openly cries.
Ichigo is fifteen the first time a Shinigami phases through his window and lands on his floor.
After going through the usual ‘you can see me?!’ introductions, he learns that her name is Rukia and she’s the Shinigami in charge of patrolling Karakura Town. In turn, she learns that his name is Ichigo and he’s been able to see ghosts since he was born.
The Hollow that breaks down the front wall interrupts any further conversation as they both hurry down the stairs to confront the threat.
Rukia leaps into action as soon as the Hollow is within her range, striking out with a blade as deadly as it is beautiful. Ichigo hurries to attend to his sisters and his father, who has been knocked out cold and slumped against the wall.
Karin is shivering with fright and Yuzu is faint with terror, but they both bravely tell him to help the person who is fighting the monster for them.
Ichigo turns around just in time to see the masked creature throw the petite Shinigami off its arm like she’s nothing more than a pest. It then turns to them, its eerie white mask shining in the moonlight, mouth split wide in a horrible grin. Ichigo can see Rukia in the distance, preparing to dash to their aid, to possibly even shield them with her own body, but he’s not about that. He is, first and foremost, a protector.
Fire blasts out of his hands and he shoots forward with all the force of a bullet, flames burning in his eyes and his hair, and crushes the Hollow’s mask with a single, flame-enhanced punch.
It rears back with a scream of rage and disintegrates into the wind.
When he lands, he sees Rukia staring at him open-mouthed, eyes as wide as dinner plates. “What… what did you just do?” she breathes. “You’re a human, and—and you just—!”
Ichigo shoves his hands into his pockets as he dismisses his flames. “And?” he asks calmly. “My name means ‘first protector.’ Even though I’m human, if I have the power to protect the things in front of me, why shouldn’t I use it?”
Rukia sputters at the answer, but doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. Satisfied, Ichigo turns to walk back into his ruined home.
Later on, when the mess has been suitably cleaned up and memories have been conveniently altered to replace the Hollow attack with a truck attack, Rukia pays a visit to the one person in town who she feels may have answers for her.
“Why, hello, Kuchiki-san! What can I do for you today?” the annoying shopkeeper all but purrs, his usual white fan fluttering in front of his face.
Rukia looks him straight in the eyes (well, as close as she can get to that when she can’t even see his eyes under the brim of his stupid bucket hat) and demands, “Tell me everything you know about this Kurosaki Ichigo.”