20, 99, Ichigo/Xanxus
thefringeperson
(20: Teacher AU, 99: Magical Accidents, Ichigo/Xanxus)
(With apologies to anyone expecting a vaguely IC Xanxus: I’ve read fic with him, but never source material, and it’s been a damn long while XD)
(Also: this AU is predicated on Xanxus escaping ZPB a few years early via a Mist with a magical artifact and more moxy than sense. There is no romance or pairing in Xanxus’ future for at least ten years, during which he gets to experience a Belligerent Crush on Ichigo and.. well.. basically grow tf up.)
Ichigo’s leading his students back to their hotel when it happens.
A great orange-red blur bolts from a nearby alley, pursued by several distinctive men, all wearing identical uniforms and obviously furious; one even has wisps of bluish power trailing from his fingers, clearly intent on doing something to the creature they’re pursuing.
Ichigo doesn’t bother stepping aside. He flickers forward in a tiny burst of shunpo. Scoops up the… cat? Cat. And tucks it against his side even as he lets his reiatsu uncoil from his soul. He keeps it subtle for the moment, just a sense of pressure in the air directed at the men and shielding his students, but he’s ready to act if he needs to.
(He may be a teacher these days, but that doesn’t mean he’s lost his edge.)
(Especially against near-baseline humans.)
“Is there a problem here, gentlemen?” Ichigo asks in careful, precise Italian, even as he adjusts his grip on the cat. It’s struggling, gnawing on his wrist and ripping at his arm in an attempt to escape, but a touch of hierro means the beast’s efforts are in vain.
The men skid to a halt. Glance between him and his gaggle of students. Clearly label him not a threat even as the largest takes a menacing step towards him.
“Hand over the cat,” the man demands.
Ichigo’s students snicker and edge back a bit to give him space, elbowing one another and whispering in Japanese; the clear dismissal seems to bother the men, but Ichigo doesn’t bother to shush them.
(He… might have a reputation still.)
Ichigo hums and glances down at the cat still angrily trying to gnaw his wrist off, then back up at the men. “I don’t think it wants to go with you.”
The man grits his teeth and holds out his — scratched and bleeding — hand in demand. “Its wants are immaterial,” the man says. “Thank you for catching it, but we need to return it home.”
The cat yowls at that, all anger-fury-terror at the option, and Ichigo tucks it more carefully against his side. This close, he can feel the whisper of not-a-cat leaking from the creature; whether it’s a person trapped in a feline form somehow or someone experimenting with a skill like Yoruichi’s, they’re not quite good enough to hide their personhood from him.
All the more reason to refuse to hand the person over, honestly.
“Sorry guys, but I think we’ll have to agree to disagree about that,” Ichigo says with a shrug, and then doesn’t wait for a response. He darts forward. Trips the first bruiser and lays out the second with a sharp jab to the stomach. Ducks away from a grab by the one with blue power and elbows the man in the side of the head. Applies a careful burst of reiatsu to make sure they all stay down, and turns back to his students with the — suddenly very quiet — cat still tucked against his side.
His students clap.
“Don’t tell anyone about this and I’ll buy you all ice cream,” Ichigo bribes them without remorse. Not that he expects this little event to go entirely unreported; one of his students will talk to a friend, the friend will talk to another, and soon enough the whole story will be blown entirely out of proportion and add another tally on his record.
“Yeah!” “Alright!” “I want mango!”
Ichigo snorts and jerks his head in the direction they were headed before their interruption. “Well, come on then. Two scoops for each of you, whatever flavors you want.” The cat in his arms makes a grumpy noise, and Ichigo snorts in amusement as he strokes the cat’s head. “None for you. Ice cream isn’t good for cats, you know.”
The cat growls and tries to gnaw on his wrist again, less like it means it and more like it’s just trying to make a point.
“I’ll get you some tuna and water when we’re back in the hotel,” Ichigo promises as he hitches the feline higher and attempts to make it at least a bit comfortable. Still, he’d rather not give it a chance to escape, so he doesn’t try too hard as he starts moving down the street with his students in tow.
It’ll forgive him eventually, or maybe not.
Honestly, he doesn’t really care.
(Why can’t any of his trips ever be normal?)
(Really.)
*****
“If you alert the hotel staff and get us kicked out, I won’t call my friend who can probably get you out of that shape,” Ichigo hisses into the not-a-cat’s ears as he and his gaggle of students finally approach the hotel. And then to his students he says, “Students, remember your promise. Not a word about our newest friend to anyone here, understood?”
“Hai, Sensei!” comes the ragged chorus of voices, many muffled by ice cream or gelato.
Ichigo hums and carefully positions himself towards the center of his group, letting the bodies of his students obscure the fact that he’s carrying a cat into a hotel that probably has a ‘no pets allowed’ policy. His students are of course entirely up for this harmless bit of rule-breaking, no doubt looking forward to seeing the cat later when he’s checked it over.
(Given the not-a-cat’s rather persistent attempts at mauling his arm, he’s pretty sure he’s also going to need to rescue a perfectly average stray in order to entertain the class.)
At least Not-A-Cat seems to be cooperating. Except for continued half-hearted attempts to chew through his wrist, the little beast is entirely quiet as they pass through the lobby and proceed down the hallway to the elevators. Where they have to wait, because there are only two elevators and he has nearly twenty students — a quick head counts confirms he’s not missing anyone yet — that need to reach the fifth floor.
One eternity later — in which Not-A-Cat graduates from half-hearted chewing to a serious effort to bite through his hierro — and Ichigo has finally managed to usher all his students back to their rooms and washed his hands of active chaperoning duties for the night.
If they need him, they know where he’ll be.
He unceremoniously drops Not-A-Cat on the hotel chair and grabs a washcloth to wipe the smudges of dirt and spit from his arm. “Hope you didn’t chip a tooth on my arm,” Ichigo tells Not-A-Cat as he settles down on the bed next to the chair. “Not sure how that would transfer over to your human form when we get you out of that.”
Not-A-Cat yawns very pointedly in his direction, wide and long and obnoxious, but it’s more than enough for Ichigo to see that nothing’s wrong with Not-A-Cat’s teeth, at least.
Which is a relief, because the more chance he’s getting to look at Not-A-Cat, the more he dislikes what he’s seeing.
Not-A-Cat is hunkered into a defensive loaf, body trembling now that the danger is gone. Its red-orange fur is ratty, with odd patches of white fur scattered all over, one of the largest splashed right across its face. It looks little better than an alley-cat, which… doesn’t bode well for the person the cat originally was.
“Got a name?” Ichigo asks as he sets the washcloth aside and eyes the room, wondering what he’s going to use for a water dish. There really aren’t that many options, but… he’ll figure something out.
Not-A-Cat very pointedly yowls at him, tail lashing and ears back, as if to say ‘I’m a cat, how do you expect me to talk?’
Ichigo huffs a laugh. “Have you even tried to talk yet?”
“Course I fuckin’ h— what the fuck?!” Not-A-Cat practically shrieks, voice softer than Yoruichi’s despite the pitch.
“There you go,” Ichigo says with a smirk, more amused than anything by the profanity after so many years of Shiro in his head. “Try to keep the chatter to a minimum around my students though, hm? They’re just regular kids.”
Not-A-Cat scowls at him, eyes narrowed and ears back, but all it does is make him look like he’s pouting. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get smug, trash. How’d you fucking know…?”
“I have a friend who can.”
“That friend get trapped in another form by a fucking Mist high on superiority?”
“No, but she has a technique that lets her turn into a cat at will,” Ichigo says as he arches an eyebrow, confused by the mention of a ‘mist high on superiority’ but content to leave it be for the moment. Now isn’t the time to poke his nose into another society’s definition of ‘empowered human’, though given his luck…
Well. He’ll deal with the fallout when it comes.
If it comes.
(He’s getting pretty good at stopping issues before they become issues, if he does say so himself.)
“Why the fuck do you think she could help, then?”
Ichigo shrugs. “If she can’t then Hat’n’Clogs can. He’s good at unraveling mysteries.”
Not-A-Cat’s tail thumps against the chair cushion in frustration, and their voice is sullen as they say, “Fuckin’ fine. Whatever. Name’s Xanxus. If you don’t follow through on getting me out of this shape, I will find a way to fucking end you, trash.”
“Nice to meet you, Xanxus,” Ichigo says with all the weaponized pleasantness he’s learned to muster as a teacher. “I’m Ichigo Kurosaki.”
Xanxus scoffs and looks away, hunkering down further into the chair as he mutters, “Yeah whatever… didn’t you fuckin’ promise me food?”
Ichigo inclines his head and rises to his feet. “I did indeed. If you promise to stay put and not make trouble, I’ll see about getting something for you, hm?”
“Whatever, trash. Better not keep me waiting long.”
“I’ll try not to,” Ichigo says in amusement, thoroughly reminded of some of the ‘trouble’ students he’s had in the past. Whoever Xanxus is, Ichigo has no intention of letting him fall back into the hands of the people searching for him.
Even if it means calling Hat’n’Clogs up to work out a way to smuggle a feline back into Karakura.
Well, it’s not like Urahara doesn’t owe him one for the latest round of ‘fix Shinigami fuckups’.
(They’ll figure it out.)
(Just like usual.)