“I am a Quincy.” Dark black hair. Cold, angry blue eyes. Glasses and a weird white coat that could have been ripped right out of an illusion-drama featuring an insane wizard-alchemist. “And I… hate shinigami.”
Negative points for the outfit and the melodrama, Ichigo tallied mentally, still gaping at the dissipating energies where a Hollow had been. Huge, glowing longbow made out of shadow magic – big plus.
And instead of starting the classic evildoer’s knock-down drag-out after his declaration of everlasting hatred, Ishida simply turned and walked away. Which gave him a definite bonus for pure class.
So instead of chasing after the guy-
To do what? Fight him? Hey, I go after monsters, not crazy people.
-Or running away from the idiot-
Sure, fine, spirit-killing bow – I’ve got a job to do, and no veiled threats are gonna keep me from doing it.
-Ichigo just stood there on the street corner with an equally shocked Rukia, trying to work out exactly how he’d ended up in this mess.
So far these past weeks: Survived first Hollow attack. That I knew of, Ichigo ticked off. Survived going after first Hollow deliberately. Survived telling Karin I’m hunting said man-eating magic-mutated ghosts….
And that had been a trick and a half all by itself. On the one hand, his little sister had been glad to have an explanation for what had wrecked the living room, why her brother suddenly felt a little funny around the edges of her ghost sense, and where Yuzu’s pajamas had gone. On the other, Karin was pretty much convinced he was going to do something stupid and get himself killed. And worse, make her explain it.
Rukia’s blithe and cheery assurance that nonsense, she was an experienced shinigami, nothing was going to happen, was not helping.
Although when Rukia finally broke down and grumbled that if anyone was going to kill an orange-haired loudmouthed punk of a substitute shinigami, it was going to be her….
Well, after that, Karin grinned. Evilly. And seemed quite willing to leave him to Rukia’s nonexistent mercies.