“Um. Dad, this is Ishida Uryuu. He’s in my class, and Orihime’s handcrafts club….” And what else could he say, that wouldn’t get them in even more hot water?
“Ryuuken’s little sprout? Gods, it’s been ages. Should have known you two would find each other eventually.” Moving fast, Isshin wrapped Ishida in a bone-cracking hug. “Relax. After dinner I’ll head out and stand your dad a few rounds, let him yell at me ’til he stops wanting to shoot you.”
“…You know my father?” Ishida managed.
“You know his dad?” Ichigo echoed in disbelief.
“Hey, there aren’t that many doctors in Karakura,” Isshin grinned, stepping back. “Besides, I tend to remember guys who kill Hollows out to eat me.”
Dead silence. Karin was staring. Ishida was white. Yuzu was looking at them all, bewildered.
Slightly more immune to the utter insanity his Dad spread in his wake, Ichigo glared. “Are you telling me you’ve known what Hollows are all this time?!?”
“After dinner,” Isshin said expansively. “Ah! Yuzu! It smells delicious!”
This household, Ishida thought, mutely accepting a second serving of rice from Yuzu as Ichigo and his father went at it again, is ground zero for a mass confusion curse. It’s the only logical explanation.
Which actually explained a lot about the orange-haired shinigami. Compared to this ruckus, hunting Hollows might be a peaceful change of pace.
Not like my Father’s house was. Not at all.
Ishida snuck another glance at the massive memorial poster blazoned across one wall. The Kurosaki offspring might find Isshin’s dramatic exclamations to his dead wife embarrassing. Ishida felt… touched. And a little jealous.
Father doesn’t have anything of Mother’s around. Not a picture, not a memorial knot of hair, barely even a mention in the family shrine.
He’d give up dignity willingly, to have his mother made as present as Isshin made Masaki.