Operation: Big Brother Ch 2

Ichigo sat in the classroom, trying to keep his jaws from cracking as he yawned. One thing hadn't changed in hundreds of years: teachers were still boring. He peeked out the window. The late fall sky topped the buildings of the Shinigami Academy, hazy blue streaked with thin wispy clouds. Across the courtyard, a row of trees whipped back and forth in a stiff breeze.

He rested his chin on one palm, trying to keep his eyes open. Maybe if he closed them just for a moment…

"Ichigo," said a gravelly voice, and Ichigo's eyes jerked open. His jaw dropped. In front of him stood Chad, Orihime, and Renji, all wearing Shinigami Academy uniforms.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Renji rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. "What do you expect from Hat-and-Clogs? It was an accident. We were all helping the mad scientist in his lab when Yoruichi, in cat form, jumped up onto his laptop. She stepped on a sequence of keys that activated the time machine, and, before we knew what had happened, we were all sent back here."

"But don't worry, Ichigo," continued Chad. "We're glad to be here. We can help you by giving you advice on your mission. I don't think giving Aizen a hug is necessary. You don't even need to talk to him much, just stand quietly by his side and offer him loyalty."

Orihime piped up cheerfully, "No, Kurosaki-kun, I think a much better idea is to make him something homemade to eat. Remember, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach!" She brought an elaborate concoction out from behind her back. "Ta-da! My special pickle, rutabaga and chicken ice cream pie!" She grinned proudly.

"Uhhh, chicken ice cream?" groaned Ichigo. "Inoue, are you sure…?"

"Don't worry, Kurosaki-kun," she announced cheerfully, "I remembered to remove the feathers this time!" She peered at a small protuberance sticking out of the crust and her face fell a little. "Although… I may have forgotten to remove all the claws." She poked at the pie crust with one finger and then her face lit up. "But it's okay because it'll just add a crunchy surprise to the texture!"

There was a thud. Chad had gagged, passed out, and now lay sprawled full-length on the floor.

Renji looked like a Christmas tree, his face bright green under his equally bright red hair.

Ichigo swallowed. "Uh, Inoue, maybe this isn't…"

She was beaming, holding out the pie. "Give Aizen-san some of this, and I guarantee he won't betray Soul Society!"

"Yeah," muttered Renji, "because he'll have died from food poisoning first." He shook his head resolutely and stomped forward, shoving his face up close to Ichigo's. "No, what you need to do is whip his ass in a fight! That's the primary rule from the most authoritative reference ever – manga. First you fight with someone, then you become their best friend." He scratched under his red ponytail. "Well – unless you kill them, that is. Or unless they're the villain." A look of confusion crossed his face. "Wait…"

"You idiots!" shouted a voice from the window. Ichigo spun around. Rukia was perched on the windowsill, arms folded, a very cross expression on her face. "Don't you understand? Ichigo is the only one who can save the world by befriending Aizen. And Ichigo, you need to get off your ass and start doing something instead of just sleeping in class."

She stopped abruptly and put a finger to her mouth. "Although... I just thought of the best idea! Let's get Aizen a Chappy plushie! That's it!" She grinned triumphantly. "It's proven clinically impossible to make evil plots to take over the world if you sleep with a Chappy plushie in your bed every night!"

Ichigo gaped at her, ignoring the Chappy comments. "What you mean by doing something?" he asked. "What am I supposed to be doing?"

Rukia rolled her eyes in exasperation. "This!" she shouted, and without warning her fist had slammed into his face, along with a healthy dollop of spirit pressure that felt almost solid. "Wake up, Ichigo!"

Ichigo jerked upright in his seat, his eyes snapping open. His friends were gone, and the entire class had turned around in their seats and were staring at him, including Sousuke, sitting one row over watching him with a very faint smirk on his face. Bewildered, Ichigo rubbed his eyes. It must have been a dream. He must have fallen asleep in class and dreamed that his friends showed up in the Shinigami Academy.

The teacher was glaring at him. "Detention for you, Kurosaki." His lip curled in vicious satisfaction. "Report to the sergeant for latrine duty this afternoon."

Ichigo groaned under his breath and tried to scrub the sleep out of his eyes. He had to focus on what was going on in class, but it was hard.

He missed his friends. Seeing them had brought back a rush of emotions. Being thrown so far back outside of his own time made him feel like an alien, like everything his instincts normally told him had been turned upside down, and being sent on a mission to somehow befriend the most evil criminal Soul Society had ever known did not make for restful nights. It would have been great to talk with them again, even if their advice sucked. He still felt a little sick to his stomach after seeing Orihime's pie, but that, too, was a familiar feeling.

The bell rang, and everyone started to get up. Students slammed books into bags and a hubbub of conversation arose. Ichigo sighed and bent to get his bag out from under his seat. As Sousuke stood up from his chair, two of the larger first-year students chose that moment to walk by. They bumped into him "accidentally." One knocked off his glasses and then the other stepped on them. There was a loud crunching sound.

"Oops!" sniggered the bigger of the two boys.

"Sorry," said the other one insincerely.

They shouldered their way out of the class, snickering.

Alone in the classroom, Ichigo watched Sousuke glance down at the shattered frames and bits of glass. The boy's face appeared even younger and more vulnerable without his glasses, his eyes a little unfocused and vague. He gave a soft sigh and then started searching for something in his book bag. After a while he pulled out a threadbare handkerchief and laid it on the floor. Kneeling, he began picking up bits of broken lenses and twisted frames with his thin fingers and placing them carefully in the ragged square of cloth.

Without a word, Ichigo slid to his knees and began helping him collect the pieces. Sousuke met his eyes expressionlessly, and returned to his task.

"Is there a shop or somewhere you can get those repaired or replaced?" Ichigo asked.

The boy looked away, his bangs falling over his face. "Yes," he said quietly, "there is a lens grinder in town. But it is expensive." He glanced at Ichigo, tilting his head. "Surely there must be a kidou to return objects to their original state. However, I haven't been able to find a spell like that in any of the books in the library."

"Uh, yeah," said Ichigo, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't think that's on any of the lists."

Sousuke peered at him, his eyes large and dark. "There must surely be kidou beyond what we are taught." His eyes lit. "The Academy limits us, you know," he whispered, lowering his gaze again. "I've heard about forbidden kidou, techniques that only some are allowed to practice."

Ichigo frowned, thinking of what he had heard about Tessai and the use of forbidden kidou. "Surely repairing objects wouldn't be forbidden?"

Sousuke shrugged, placing the handkerchief containing the wrapped remnants of his glasses carefully in his book bag.

"Look, why don't the two of us go after those guys?" Ichigo said. "We shouldn't let them get away with that."

"Go after them?" Sousuke turned on him and the air crackled with spiritual pressure. "Didn't you know? Takeo and Mitsuru come from noble families. If we fight them we'll both be expelled."

Ichigo scowled. "But you can't just let them get away with stuff like that! Otherwise they'll keep on bullying you!"

Sousuke stared up at him, his eyes bare and suddenly burning. His bangs fell to one side and Ichigo could see two small red marks on either side of his nose left by his glasses. "Let them get away with it?" His eyes narrowed. "Do you think that I would let–"

Then his face shuttered and he turned away. "I can't do anything about it, and it doesn't really matter," he said softly. "Let it go."

He got to his feet and left the classroom, leaving Ichigo staring after him.

What was it he had been about to say?

                                              XxXxXxX

Ichigo took a step out into the training yard for what had become their daily practice session. Sousuke was standing there, motionless, his sword unsheathed, his face in shadow.

"Ouch!" Ichigo yelled. A lash of reiatsu had suddenly struck his face. He raised an arm defensively, a little too late, and Sousuke sighed.

"No," came the soft voice from across the yard. "Use your energy to form a shield, not your body."

"Shit," Ichigo muttered, feeling blood trickling down his face. He healed it and raised his mental shields. "You enjoyed that," he accused. "You're a sadistic son of a bitch."

The only response was a quiet chuckle. "But you can't deny it makes for effective training."

Ichigo growled, but then he thought back to how Urahara had trained him, and his dad, and said nothing.

Sousuke had moved forward into the light. "Besides, it seems to me that you enjoy pain in some ways."

"What? Of course not," Ichigo retorted. No, he had thoroughly cussed out Urahara after Hat-and-Clogs had nearly killed him. Not to mention the way he put his goat-faced father in his place after his "wake-up calls." He hated the way they treated him.

The boy was studying his expression carefully, a subtle smile on his face. "I saw you defending that trainee the other day. You have something of a hero complex, Ichigo, charging into a group of at least half a dozen bullies."

Ichigo frowned. "I just needed to protect her. What was it, six against one?" His face darkened. "Unacceptable. And the way the Academy looks the other way when nobles are involved? It has to be stopped."

Sousuke gave a light laugh. "Stopped by whom? Us? Don't be ridiculous. We have no power in the system. Actions such as you propose could only lead to exile or even death. Don't you know what happened to Nakamura Minori?"

When Ichigo shook his head, he continued, "He was a student here, a peasant from Inuzuri, who attacked a noble last year. He was expelled. They found him in the forest, dismembered. His killers were never found. They never even searched very hard. The word was that he got what he deserved."

"Well, what else can we do?" Ichigo challenged, watching Sousuke closely.

There was a momentary glint in his eyes, and then the boy shrugged. "Wait. Go through the process, work our way up the ranks. One day we will be the people making the rules."

Ichigo shook his head. "I just don't have that kind of patience. That girl could have been killed while I waited. I had to save her now."

"My point exactly. What you do is not rational, so I've come to believe that there surely must be some deep underlying need in you for self-immolation, to charge into a crowd of fists and swords that will surely inflict pain upon you." He tilted his head. "Why? Do you feel you did something wrong in your life, something that deserves punishment, to make you such a masochist?"

"Of course not," Ichigo yelled, pushing away the thought of when he had failed to save his mother. "It's just the right thing to do, dammit. You should consider thinking about doing the right thing yourself." He glared at the boy who one day was going to cause so many deaths in pursuit of his own selfish desires for power.

Sousuke laughed gently. "You're protesting quite a bit, Ichigo. That's usually the sign that I'm hitting a little close to home."

As he left the training area later, Ichigo scowled. Why did so many of their discussions seem to turn out this way? He was five years older than Sousuke; the boy had admitted he was barely twelve years old. And yet, it seemed the younger boy always got the better of him. It wasn't just that his reiatsu was powerful; with his intellect, he could think rings around everybody around him.

Somehow, Ichigo had to figure out how to get through to him. He shook his head as he hurried to his next class. He didn't seem to be making much progress. And he had a feeling that the younger boy was up to something. Exactly what, he couldn't put his finger on. He scowled, again wishing he had a friend to talk things over with.

He ran into the classroom and grabbed the last seat. Their teacher was sick, and supposedly they had a substitute today. He saw a sandaled foot appear on the other side of the door.

Then their substitute teacher came into view and turned to face the class.

Ichigo's jaw hit the floor.