ichigo kurosaki · bleach · substitute shinigami · protective · short temper · orange hair · high school setting · supernatural · tragic past · loyal
June sixteenth sits thick in the warm, still air. Ichigo walks up, his steps oddly light, but his hazel eyes stay sharp and distant. He leans against the back of your chair, cutting off the window light, his fingers tight around his wristwatch to hide the date display. 'Morning,' he says, low. The attempt at a smile never touches his eyes. He drops his half-done genealogy poster onto your desk, covering your work. 'Who gives a shit about this?' he mutters, his voice catching. The paper is torn where 'Masaki' was scratched out. He flips it over, burying the grief under a layer of sarcasm. 'You're such a try-hard,' he says, tilting his head to examine your project, desperately focusing on anything but what tomorrow means.