Kaito/Ishida/Ichigo/Orihime/Chad/Tatsuki: Platonic Soulmate AU & Curses

anonymous

It’s barely a month after being named Kaito that he notices it. Fresh from a shower and just barely comfortable with his new looks, he pauses to glance at maybe-himself and—

Leans forward, staring into the mirror — into the face of an almost-stranger — and carefully brushes a thumb across his collarbones. Just to see. Just to make sure…

(His soulmark has changed.)

(He’d only just accepted it before everything happened, and now… now…)

(It’s different, strange like the face that meets his gaze, strange like the buzz of Hollow reiatsu under his skin, strange like the name he has to accept—)

He swallows. Runs a thumb over the prominent orange-blue-white-black feather that curves along his collarbones. Brushes his fingers over the five colorful feathers that trail down his sternum. Wets dried lips and tries to rationalize, tries to understand…

(*For us,*) Ichigo murmurs as Kaito rubs at the feather along his collarbones again. (*I think.*)

(*For all of us,*) Kaito agrees after a moment, tracing the orange-and-blue banding thoughtfully. (*Is this… common amongst Shinigami?*)

(*I… I don’t know. I… Rukia never mentioned it, and I never asked,*) Ichigo admits ruefully. (*But I always had a small tricolor mark near to our group’s mark, which got bigger as I started interacting with Zangetsu more. I just… assumed that Shinigami didn’t speak of it much, or that it was one of those… things. You know, something that everyone obviously knows, so there’s no need to talk about it.*)

Kaito hums in agreement, then flattens his palm over the other five feathers, hiding them from sight. (*These though… I… can’t. I’m not… I only just accepted you and now… now I’m getting shoved into an entirely different group?! I’d… I’d rather have only our new mark than this!*)

Ichigo presses closer, strength-confidence-reassurance, and says, (*That’s alright. You don’t have to push yourself. Maybe Hat’n’Clogs has an answer?*)

The idea has merit. Urahara had provided him with an entirely new look already, so… maybe hiding soulmarks isn’t too strange an ask.

Kaito glances one last time at the almost-stranger with their entirely strange soulmarks and nods sharply.

He’ll ask.

---

“Pardon?” Urahara asks, eyes wide and fan dangling from his fingers.

“Can you hide soulmarks?” Kaito repeats, barely remembering to meet the man’s eyes as he asks.

(This… this isn’t done.)

(No one purposely hides their soulmarks.)

(But he can’t… he can’t…)

(These aren’t his marks…)

“Maa, you know these things have a way of getting out, right…?” Urahara asks gently, even as he gestures for Kaito to follow him. “A bit of trial and error and I can hide almost anything, but soulmarks… those aren’t stable. The more you try to hide them—”

“I know!” Kaito snaps, then flinches and looks away, breathing through the flash of panic-fury-hate until he has himself under control again. “I know,” he repeats, running a hand through his hair. “But I… my marks are gone. I don’t… I don’t want these. If… if they’re for who I suspect they are, I just… I can’t. I can’t, Urahara-san, because they’re just… they’re not my people! And who ever heard of… of being your own damn soulmate?!”

Urahara’s hand settles on his shoulder, warm-firm-grounding. “I understand,” he murmurs. “And I’ll do my best. But you’ll have to come to me the moment to notice a hint of color showing through, so I can adjust it again.”

“I will, I promise.” Kaito hesitates a moment, then tugs open the kimono he’d thrown on and brushes a finger across the prominent mark on his collarbones. “This one stays, if possible.”

“Alright, I can do that. Shall we?”

Kaito nods. Steps through the door of Urahara’s lab.

Hides himself from his soulmates.

(Victory tastes like ash.)

(But that’s fine.)

(He’s fine.)

(Just fine.)

---

He keeps up the deception.

Through combat and training and basic interactions, he keeps himself to himself, lest any of the teens begin to suspect.

He lets them catch sight of the brilliant, prominent feather he’d kept. Lets them believe that that is his only soulmark. Lets them make their own assumptions about it.

(He goes to Urahara to update the concealment often.)

(Too much interaction makes the marks… eager.)

The invasion is difficult. Too much interaction, too much stress, and no one who can adjust the concealment in return.

When Ishida carries him away from Kyoraku, the shock of connection is enough to freeze him in place as Ishida only falters, which is enough to give his past self the advantage—

Shiro has no such compunctions.

Kaito lets him rage for the both of them.

Ishida watches them, thoughtful-considering-apologetic, and Kaito ducks further behind Shiro’s rage.

(He can’t… he can’t…)

(He still wakes with his head in Ishida’s lap, wakes with connection beginning to settle deep into his bones, and it’s all he can do to tear himself away before they are truly bound.)

(The irony of Ishida being his first and firmest connection does not escape him.)

Kaito shoves the jangle of discordant feelings aside. Locks the growing want away deep in his soul. Sets his sights on his goal and refuses to be swayed.

Aizen is still out there.

He needs to kill Aizen before anything else can happen.

(The night at the Eleventh is an exercise in restraint.)

(Two of his five soulmates are right there, sleeping just within reach, curled into each other’s arms and he… he wants.)

(But at the same time he doesn’t.)

He wakes to a warm body in his arms and no new connection humming in his head.

(Hanataro knows.)

(Hanataro knows and says nothing.)

(Sometimes he wishes Hanataro was his soulmate, platonic or not.)

When Kurosaki manages to pull him into a hug after the invasion is over, Kaito almost stabs him.

It feels good, the discontented hum of another unrealized connection beginning to settle at last, leaving him limp with relief—

He pulls away before he can give himself away, dusting off his sleeves and doing his best to laugh his reaction off.

The teens don’t try again.

He can’t tell if he’s pleased or disappointed.

(He’s pleased.)

(He has to be.)

---

Everything is going fine — he isn’t left to his own devices like he’d prefer, but no one is trying to touch him at least — until several months after Aizen’s death. Another malcontent from Seireitei’s past shows up, causes some chaos, and drags Kaito and the others into a battle they have no responsibility to clean up.

(He still takes the bastard down, of course.)

(He doesn’t trust Seireitei to not fuck it up somehow.)

But in the aftermath…

In the aftermath, he collapses without warning, reiryoku slipping through his fingers like water.

(At least Hanataro reaches him first.)

Kaito wakes up in the Fourth, Hanataro hovering nearby, feeling like he’s been run over by a truck. He forces himself upright on shaking limbs, trying to assess what exactly is wrong with him, and… finding nothing obvious; no bandages, no bruises, no obvious wounds of any sort… just a pervasive weakness in his limbs and a feeling like he’s being drained by something invisible.

“I’m s-sorry, Kaito-san,” Hanataro murmurs as he helps Kaito sit up. “This… th-this isn’t… I can’t…”

“It’s alright.” Kaito sighs and swings his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the way his head spins and his eyesight blurs. He’ll push through it. He’s pushed through worse. “Thank you for trying.”

Hanataro grimaces and catches Kaito’s shoulder, easily holding him in place. “K-Kaito-san… Kaito-san sh-shouldn’t move,” he says softly, concern in his eyes as he meets Kaito’s gaze. “Th-this… Kaito-san w-was cursed, a-and we… we can’t… fix it un-unless Kaito-san fulfills the uhm… th-the clause.”

“Cursed,” Kaito repeats dryly, reaching up to lay his hand over Hanataro’s. “You really think curses exist?”

“Kaito-san doesn’t?” Hanataro asks in shock, then huffs a sigh and presses Kaito back into bed, barely needing to exert effort to do so. “It’s a, uhm… it’s a soulmate curse,” he explains as he arranges pillows to help Kaito remain sitting up. His nose wrinkles and he shoots Kaito a deadpan look as he continues, “O-or, I s-suppose, uhm… it’s… a targeted kido th-that latch-latches onto, well…” He gestures vaguely at Kaito’s chest.

“Unsealed connections,” Kaito finishes with a growing feeling of dread, one trembling hand rising to press against his chest and the five hidden marks there. “It’s a… power drain?” he asks, trying to make sense of whatever the hell this kido is.

Hanataro hums in agreement and drags a stool over to perch on. “U-usually, uhm… usually there’s s-someone connected t-to the kido. T-to, uhm… con-control the drain a-and gain th-the power, but…”

“I killed him before he could finish, didn’t I?”

“Y-yes. S-so now…”

“It’s just draining with no one to control it.”

Hanataro nods. “It’s… n-not common anymore, a-and if there w-was a way t-to break it beyond f-finalizing th-the connections we uhm… we d-don’t know, anymore…”

Kaito rubs at his temple, already knowing what his answer will be; with three fully unsealed connections, one barely better, and the last just shy of sealed, there isn’t time for anyone to try to find a second option. Not when he knows who all his soulmates are.

(When they all know who his soulmates are.)

(Why else would the teens be so careful about not touching him?)

(They aren’t fools, after all.)

“Fine,” Kaito says with a sigh, glancing away from Hanataro’s sad-sad-sad expression as he does. “It’s… fine.”

Hanataro scowls at him. “I-it’s not,” he mutters unhappily, even as he slides from the stool and stands up. “But if Kaito-san insists…”

“I do.”

The look Hanataro shoots him is filled with disbelief-resignation-sadness, but his friend makes no further comment, just stalks from the room with a steel-straight spine and stiff shoulders.

Kaito almost pities the teens.

Almost.

---

It’s Ishida who steps into the room first, though Kaito can feel the other four lingering in the hallway.

“Senpai,” Ishida greets him as he settles on the stool Hanataro left behind. He hesitates then, chewing on his lower lip, clearly at a loss for words.

“I’m surprised Kurosaki’s still outside the door,” Kaito says with an arched eyebrow, trying to prod some words free from the tangle Ishida is no doubt trying to deal with. “Surprised all of them are outside, actually,” he admits after a moment, because… because…

He’d been certain he’d known what their reaction would be, and… sending just Ishida in to talk with him…

This isn’t what he’d expected.

Ishida scowls at him, the expression a very passable imitation of Kurosaki’s best disappointed-scowl, and says, “Senpai, we’re not blind. We asked Unohana about soulmarks after the invasion, and she said that this… that our situation isn’t unknown. That it meant you’d lost your soulmates and that your soul latched onto ours as the nearest set that could fill the gap left behind.”

Kaito blinks at Ishida in surprise; he’d never actually questioned if there was precedent or if this is yet another thing he’s an outlier in, and to hear that it’s normal, that Shinigami know about it…

(All he can feel is relief…)

“You never even asked about it, did you,” Ishida says in exasperation, then shakes his head. “No, never mind, I know the answer already. It doesn’t matter.” He bites his lip again, clearly gathering his words, and says, “I apologize for not warning Kurosaki sooner. I should have.”

“Warning him…?”

“About your reaction to me touching you,” Ishida clarifies, then scowls and holds up a hand when Kaito opens his mouth to protest. “No. Unohana was clear on that; if you didn’t want the connections, then we shouldn’t pressure you about it. Potential connections aren’t usually dangerous, just… a bit annoying at times.”

Kaito grimaces at Ishida’s words and rubs at the bridge of his nose, scrambling to find his own words. The irony of his past self being the one to talk to him about their current mess is… painful, really.

(Has he changed that, too?)

(Did Ishida accept the others sooner, easier, because of how he’d dragged the teen into the group?)

(If he’d just… in his own reality… would things have… turned out differently…?)

“Senpai,” Ishida prompts, concern-worry-care in his voice as he leans forward, hands tucked against his thighs and body tense. “Senpai, please let us help you. I know you probably don’t want us—”

“Shut up,” Kaito growls, infuriated by the sheer certainty in Ishida’s voice that Kaito doesn’t want them, when sometimes it’s all he can do to not just… reach out and take…

It hurts.

And so does the way Ishida flinches back, eyes wide and body tense, one wrong move away from fleeing and—

Kaito leans over. Snatches one of Ishida’s wrists. Digs careful, trembling fingers into Ishida’s skin and revels in the snap of a fully realized connection, intent sealing the link the way casual touch had not. It doesn’t change much, doesn’t stop the drain on his reiryoku, but it… it feels like finally coming home.

(He knows what that is now, knows what that feels like, and he… he…)

(Why had he waited so long…?)

“I lost my soulmates right after I accepted them,” Kaito forces out, ignoring the awe-warmth-care coming from Ishida’s presence, ignoring the way Ishida’s free hand settles over his, gentle-calloused-strong like a reassurance, like a promise. “I accepted them, and then we went our own ways, and then they were gone.”

(All except Ichigo, trapped inside his soul, a different type of soulmate but still his, still the last trace of what he’d had before it was all torn away…)

“That won’t happen to us,” Ishida says softly, firmly, like he has any right to promise such a thing when it was his fault — Kaito’s fault — that everything fell apart—

Ichigo’s sharp denial-anger-rejection carves a jagged line through Kaito’s mind and he flinches, breathes through the sensation until Ichigo’s emotions finally settle, and directs his next words at both Ishida and Ichigo when he says, “You can’t promise that. You don’t know—”

“And neither do you,” Ishida insists, hand tightening on Kaito’s like he can somehow press his surety into Kaito’s skin. “No one does, but… aren’t we different? Didn’t you spend time teaching us to work together? Haven’t we learned— haven’t we changed?”

Kaito grimaces and looks away, knowing the truth of Ishida’s words and part of him hating it as much as he appreciates it.

(This should have been him, should have been how his soulmates ended up, not… not scattered-shattered-dead—)

Fingertips brush across the back of his neck and he shivers at the touch. Leans into it even as Ishida’s hand settles, tightening to press grounding-reassurance-strength into his skin and—

“Come on, Senpai, up you come,” Ishida murmurs as he stands, looping Kaito’s arm over his shoulder and then letting go of his hand in order to—

Kaito squawks as Ishida lifts him up. Scrambles for a handhold, for security, even as Ishida laughs warm-bright-soft and hoists him higher.

“You should probably eat more,” Ishida teases as he nudges the door open with a foot and steps out into the hallway where the other teens are waiting. “Maybe it would be harder for me to do this, then.”

Kaito scowls at Ishida. Sweeps his scowl to the others as they begin to laugh as well. “And where, exactly, do you think you’re taking me?”

“Our room,” Ishida answers breezily. “So we can all curl up and so you can sleep.”

“I just woke up,” Kaito feels the need to point out. “What makes you think I’ll fall asleep so easily?”

Kurosaki coughs, barely hiding a smirk behind his hand, and answers, “Hanataro says you will, as soon as the drain on your reiryoku stops. Something about your body overcompensating for the drain, and needing rest as soon as it stops.”

“This is ridiculous,” Kaito grumbles, resisting the urge to tuck his face into Ishida’s chest in embarrassment. “You could have just… just let me sleep where I was. You don’t need to cart me around like… like some sort of invalid…”

Ishida’s steps falter and he softly asks, “Would you have preferred that, Senpai? Sorry… it… seemed like you wanted us around…”

Kaito flinches and lets go of Ishida’s shoulder with one hand in order to rub at his eyes. Sometimes he hates how well Ishida can read him, for all its almost to be expected given they were once the same person. “It’s… fine,” he answers, unable to give voice to the tangle of need-want-crave that he’s slowly giving in to the longer Ishida holds him.

(It’s… not his father’s hugs, but… it’s still nice.)

(He could… he could grow to like this.)

(Though perhaps with a bit less being carted around like a damsel in distress involved!)

Question-concern-uncertainty prods at him through their new connection, and Kaito sighs softly even as he sends back acceptance-certainty-contentment.

Ishida relaxes even as his arms tighten around Kaito. “Thank you, Senpai,” he says, so many emotions tangled in his words that Kaito can’t pick them apart. “We won’t let you down, I promise.”

“You’d better let me down. I’m not about to be carried around for the rest of my life,” Kaito mock-snarls, purposely missing Ishida’s point in favor of getting a laugh out of the rest of the teens. The soft huff he feels from Ishida tells him he’s escaped that topic of conversation for the moment, which is… certainly a relief.

“Oh, but why not?” Inoue asks, all innocence and cheer as she skips up to Ishida’s side and halfway extends her hand towards Kaito’s. “Don’t you want to be carried?”

Kaito wrinkles his nose at her. “Inoue-san, with all due respect, I’m nearly a foot taller than you and—”

“Yes?” she asks leadingly, a very Unohana-esque smile on her face even as she wriggles her hand at him.

“…never mind,” he mutters as he carefully takes her hand and focuses on that instead of on her face.

(Maybe introducing her to Unohana wasn’t the wisest of decisions after all…)

Their connection hums to life, warm-fierce-protective in a way he never expected to feel from her.

(His connection to his Inoue had been a thing of peace and gentle warmth, but never so protective, never so fierce as this Inoue is.)

(The difference is… staggering.)

(Had he… had he done this?)

Inoue makes a pleased noise and squeezes his hand, her power filtering through their connection, pressing like water against a dam and—

Something snaps as her power ripples into his body, flooding his senses and easing the strain he’s been ignoring. It feels almost like being able to breathe again, but it also makes it obvious how much strength is still being pulled from him.

(Kami… if he’d missed… if that bastard had managed to succeed…)

(No.)

(It’s over.)

(He won.)

Inoue squeezes his hand again, then slips her hand free and darts ahead to open a door just down the hallway. Ishida carries him in, toeing off his slippers and stepping onto the tatami mats—

And instead of setting him down, they both go down, with Ishida kneeling and then tipping backwards into a small pile of pillows.

The teens laugh as Kaito yelps and grips Ishida’s shirt tighter, unused to being manhandled quite so thoroughly. “A bit of warning if you plan to do that again!” he snaps as he slowly releases his grip.

“Sorry, Senpai,” Ishida responds, sounding not at all apologetic. He tugs at Kaito a bit, rearranging their limbs with Kaito’s reluctant assistance, until they’re both reclining and Kaito’s head is resting on Ishida’s chest. “But you have to admit, this is more comfortable than other options.”

Kaito scowls and pinches Ishida’s side. “I don’t have to admit anything,” he mutters sullenly, even as he tips his head slightly to better hear Ishida’s strong-steady-even heartbeat. A hand settles in his hair, tentative and soft, then begins to move when he doesn’t shake it free.

His eyes… maybe close a little, at the feeling.

(Only maybe.)

“You look like a contented cat,” Arisawa says as she drops to sit next to him.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, hoping in vain that his cheeks aren’t turning red from embarrassment. He’d never really known Arisawa in the before, even though she was part of his soul-group, but… he likes this version. She’s a better balance for Kurosaki than Ishida — than any version of himself — will ever be, and it always feels like things are… more steady when she’s around.  

“Hand up, kitty cat,” she teases, though her hands are kind-firm-steady as she takes his hand in hers, her strong grip a reassurance even as her link snaps into vibrant-strong-steady life. She feels like bedrock under his feet, immovable, implacable, but no less caring than Inoue or Ishida.

And then she flops down, plastering herself against Ishida’s side, one arm thrown over Kaito’s waist, and… it should feel constricting, should feel like confinement, but…

It just feels safe.

Kurosaki is next, his hand both foreign and familiar as his fingers curl around Kaito’s hand in place of Arisawa’s. Their half-realized connection settles into place slowly, tentatively, like Kurosaki’s afraid that Kaito will once more reject him and—

Kaito huffs. Tightens his grip. Wills the connection sealed with a snap that jars his teeth and makes the breath catch in his throat.

(It’s so familiar.)

(It’s so familiar!)

(He can’t— he can’t…!)

Arisawa’s presence roars to the fore, shielding him from the sense of almost-Ichigo in his head. He can’t suppress the jagged sob of relief when she does so, but he also refuses to let go when Kurosaki tries to pull away.

(He wants… he wants, but he can’t—)

“I really am like your friend, aren’t I?” Kurosaki murmurs, sad-pained-weary as he tries once again to pull his hand free. “Sorry… I’ll do my best to keep from intruding—”

“You’re not,” Kaito hisses, tightening his grip on Kurosaki’s hand, fingers digging deep into his almost-friend’s skin. Kurosaki isn’t Ichigo, but… but he’s a version of Ichigo, and… and if he lets go, if he looks away, if Kurosaki leaves him again—

A calloused thumb brushes under his eye and across his cheek, dampness trailing behind and—

He’s crying.

He’s crying in front of them.

“You’re crying because of me, I certainly think that’s an indication—”

“Of nothing!” Kaito snaps, accompanying his words with a strong jerk at their joined hands.

Kurosaki yelps and tumbles forward, landing awkwardly across all three of them and driving the breath from both Kaito’s and Ishida’s lungs in the process. Arisawa bites back a curse and tugs her arm free of the pile, and Kurosaki yelps again, indignant-wounded-offended, and wriggles closer to Kaito and Ishida as if to escape her.

Kaito swallows once. Twice. Gathers his confidence and whispers, “I don’t want you to leave.”

Still can’t bring himself to admit that Kurosaki leaving is one of his worst fears, is one of his nightmares—

Kurosaki huffs a laugh, more fond than amused, and twists around to wedge his body between Ishida’s and Arisawa’s. He rests his — pointy! — chin on Kaito’s shoulder and settles his arm across Kaito’s chest, even as Arisawa grumbles and readjusts her own position, arm draping across all of them in something almost like possession, almost like protection.

(It… helps.)

The drain is less now, a tiny fraction of what it was, and Kaito can already feel the exhaustion creeping in. Or rather, he can feel his body acknowledging the exhaustion at last, the razor-thin edge of survival finally dulling and giving him a moment to breathe. It’s a familiar sensation, though usually not so drastic, and he knows that Hanataro was right.

(He can already feel himself starting to drift.)

The only one who hasn’t affirmed their connection with him is Sado, which… doesn’t entirely surprise him.

(That Sado and Inoue can stand his presence at all is—)

(No.)

(Breathe.)

Kaito cracks an eye open and blinks away the blur of unshed tears, trying to focus beyond them where—

Sado sits by Ishida’s side, his presence calm-patient-steady as he watches over them. The minute he spots Kaito’s attention on him, he leans forward and offers his hand, waiting for Kaito to take it. It’s a pointed gesture, just like all the others; it’s his choice, the teens all try to convey, even when they all know it’s a lie.

He takes Sado’s hand anyway.

(Maybe he’ll mind later, or maybe he won’t.)

(But for now… for now… the feeling of belonging is worth more than the shame of giving in.)

Sado’s connection is… steady. Poised. Like Arisawa’s own bedrock-steady confidence but… quieter. Sado isn’t the sort to draw attention to himself until he needs to, and that’s reflected in their connection. It feels like the ocean, nominally peaceful but quiet-deadly-vast beneath the surface, ready to roar to life at a moment’s notice.

And with that, the final thread of binding snaps like a brittle twig.  

“Kaito-kun should rest,” Inoue says firmly, even as she tucks herself in next to Sado. Her small hand settles on his shoulder again, and her reiatsu filters into his body, a steady trickle slowly filling his reserves.

“Don’t exhaust yourself,” Kaito mutters as he tucks his head more firmly against Ishida’s chest and closes his eyes. “We aren’t fighting again anytime soon. I can rest until I’ve recovered.”

Inoue hums softly but doesn’t stop her kido. “Trust me to know my limits, Kaito-kun.”

Kaito huffs a sigh but doesn’t argue further, just lets the press of everyone’s power quiet his mind.

He breathes.

Drifts.

Sleeps.