[Log] Ichigo, Ukitake
Title: Uh... Are you all right?
Characters: Ichigo (
akaadji ), Ukitake (
lcpdragonslayer )
Timeline: July 5, 2007
Rating: PG
Summary: Ichigo meets Soul Society's archivist... and it's not a great first impression.
Ichigo sighed to himself. Why had he let himself be talked into being an errand boy? All he'd done was stop by to talk to Isshin for a few minutes about those plans the man had made for the two of them. But, of course, when he went to leave his father had conveniently remembered that he needed to have some papers dropped off at Ukitake's desk. He'd never met the man, but Isshin's insistence that he was a great guy did little to raise his enthusiasm. Isshin liked everyone.
Okay, so the guy was in the back corner of the office...his dad assured him that he'd recognize Ukitake on sight. As though the filing room would be absolutely bustling with people. ...it was neater down here than he'd expected, but...was that a garbage can filled with nothing but candy wrappers and a few crumpled papers? Who ate that much candy past the age of ten? He glanced over the desk it sat beside. It figured that the guy wouldn't be at his desk, assuming that was it...
"Hey, is anyone here?"
He stared blankly at the empty folder. He closed the folder, reading the sticker on its cover. "1998 - Meeting Minutes 4/2". He flipped the folder open again. And sure enough - he hadn't been hallucinating - the folder was. Empty.
He turned the folder upside down and shook it, hoping that the minutes would magically appear and drop down to the floor.
No such luck.
Sighing, he closed the manila folder and slotted it back into place. Just when he thought he had almost everything sorted out, too.
A small voice outside of the storage area caught his attention, and he began making his way back out of the storage room, careful to step around or over boxes and other artefacts.
He had made it to the doorway when he started coughing again, probably triggered from the mustiness and dust that plagued the Archives room. He caught a glimpse of bright orange lingering near his desk before lowering his head, coughing into his curled hand. He gripped onto the doorframe for support, the cough which wracked his body taking over.
And for the first time in months, his coughing involved blood.
He'd almost given up, planning to go and hand the paperwork back to Isshin saying that Ukitake wasn't there, when he heard faint coughing and footsteps. He looked in the direction they seemed to be coming from, catching sight of a white-haired man who quickly doubled over, apparently in the throws of a severe coughing fit. Fine, he'd just wait until he was done-was that blood? Shit. He set the papers down on the desk, hurrying over to the man's side.
"Um, should I call someone?" He asked, realizing only after the words left his mouth that it was an incredibly stupid thing to ask. Even if the guy could talk through his coughing, why the hell would he say no? What should he do? Help the guy stand, help him sit down?
He was gasping inbetween the coughs, blood rivuleting down between his fingers. As the person approached, he turned away slightly, coughing away from the orange-haired man.
He wasn't trying to be rude, or anything, but the last thing he wanted to do was to be responsible for passing tuberculosis and his other diseases on to torment someone else.
He slumped down to the ground slowly as the coughing fits subsided, breathing short but quick breaths of air, panting. It was not exactly the best first impression he could give, but it was nothing he could control.
"Could you..." his voice was reduced to a mere raspy whisper. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Could you pass me... a tissue?" He would be fine - he should be fine, anyway. The last thing he wanted to do was worry Mr. Kurosaki about his insistence of returning to work two days before his medical leave was due.
Ichigo's heart began to pound harder as more blood flowed from between the man's fingers and dripped onto the ground. Was the man actually dying right here in front of him? No, he couldn't be. Wouldn't he be asking for help of some kind?
The way the white-haired man turned away unnerved him a bit...it might just be that he didn't want to cough blood on him, but what if it's because it was something catching? He couldn't just stand there and watch even if it was, though, right?
Good job...he'd stood there uselessly throughout the whole thing. Seemed like the coughing has subsided now, and the man had sunk to the ground. He had to think for a moment before he understood the man's request, but hurried over to the desk and brought some as soon as it sunk in what he'd said.
"Uh...are you...going to be okay?" He muttered as he handed the tissues over, asking more to fill in the silence than because he actually expected an answer.
The white porous material soaked up the blood from his hand, and he used up more tissues as he wiped his hand off, then dabbed it over his lips. He glanced down at the mess he had made, and thanked silently that the storage area was cold, hard floor and not carpet.
Dropping the pile of tissues over the spot on the floor, his gaze wandered over to the orange-haired stranger, and he smiled. "I'm sorry," he began, eyes sparkling a little from the glossy film as well as the lighting from the area. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"It. Happens all the time." Well, no, not really. He coughed all the time - yes - but not blood. Maybe he should have rested out his medical leave. But so far this year he had already used up enough sick leave to cover the entire floor's worth of workers, and he felt bad about it.
"So long as Mr. Kurosaki doesn't find out, anyway." There was nothing worse - or rather, scarier - than a blood-coughing fit; nothing except Mr. Kurosaki - or, heaven forbid, Mr. Ishida - angry over his 'mistreatment of his body'. He managed a cheesy grin as he moved to stand, slowly.
"I'll have to go to the washroom first, if you don't mind... Wait for me for a few minutes?"
Well, it seemed like the man was going to be all right...as all right as you could be and cough blood, anyway...he watched awkwardly as the man cleaned himself up before putting the tissues over the blood on the floor. How on earth could the guy be so calm after that? And wow, he was a lot younger than he'd figured he would be...the guy looked middle-aged, but with the hair he'd naturally expected something else.
How could that happen all the time if he was still alive? Coughing blood was usually a sign of imminent death, wasn't it? Well, whatever. The man was trying to brush off the incident, and Ichigo wasn't exactly too eager to dwell on it either.
So he didn't want Isshin to find out about it...he could understand that. Isshin wasn't likely to be quiet about the idea that one of his employees was sick like that. Had to be telling the truth about it being something chronic, though, if the biggest thing he was worried about was his boss's reaction.
"Um, sure..." He could have just said that Isshin wanted him to have the papers and left, but he couldn't help but worry about the guy. Last thing he needed to do was leave then have the guy break out in another fit and aspirate blood or something...
He scrubbed away at his hands with the soap, letting the water run over his hands. The water was foamy, with a tinge of red, and with that almost all the traces of his coughing fit had disappeared.
Almost.
He dabbed some water on the edges of his lips, then on the inside, and he spat a little into the sink. The sickening taste of metallic blood still lingered in his mouth. He was going to need some water to wash it down.
Drying his hands off, he emerged from the bathroom and returned to the orange-haired young adult's company, smiling. It was as if nothing had happened. "I'm sorry for scaring you..." he started, laughing nervously as he slipped his hands into his pockets. His purple box of gobstoppers were conveniently in his pockets, and he pulled it out. Shaking two from the box into his hand, he slipped the box back into his pocket and stuck one globe into his mouth, offering the other to the kid.
"So... What can I do for you?"
Ichigo fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to keep his eyes from the small pile of white and red laying on the floor. He should just take the guy's word, but...that had freaked the hell out of him.
He took another look around the basement to distract himself. From the looks of things, there were a few other people who worked down here too...it wasn't the tidiest place, which sort of surprised him. His dad had said that Ukitake was an archivist...he would have expected the man to be a neat freak and make sure everyone else was too. But then, nothing about this was much like he'd expected.
He was relieved when the white-haired man returned, smiling at him. Put him at ease a bit. And his curiosity about the large amount of brightly-colored wrappers was satisfied as well when the man pulled a box of candy out of his pocket and ate one. Taking the candy more out of politeness than anything else, he gestured to the desk.
"My dad wanted me to bring some stuff down to you...uh, assuming you're Ukitake?"
He quirked his eyebrow and directed his gaze to the papers on his desk. Picking them up, he scanned through them briefly, and his eyes which widened ever so slightly were obscured behind the papers.
Dad?
Well he certainly wasn't Mr. Ishida's son... To his recollection, Mr. Ishida had mentioned once or twice in passing that he had 'a son', and that was Uryuu, the journalist.
So, with these kinds of papers... that could only mean...
"Ah! You're Mr. Kurosaki's son?" Well, now that he mentioned it, he could see a vague resemblance... although, personality wise, they seemed to be a little... different. He didn't know the kid very well to make a proper judgement, but he came off as a rather serious type.
...Which is more than he can say for Mr. Kurosaki. "Uh. It's nice to meet you..." he extended a hand in greeting, smiling warmly. "I am, indeed, Jyuushirou Ukitake..."
There it was...the usual surprise that accompanied his mentioning that yes, he was indeed Isshin's son. He was used to the odd looks and questions, and while he didn't like them he was good at deflecting them. After about the twentieth time, it had gotten annoying to agree that no, he wasn't anything like his father, and that yes, he was aware of it...thankfully, there was probably going to be no need for that in this case.
"Yeah, I am..it's nice to meet you too." Ichigo almost held out his hand still holding the now slightly sticky candy, but quickly switched it to his other hand and wiped his hand on his jeans before taking the older man's hand.
"Were the papers anything useful? Or is he sending out random pointless stuff?"
Useful? Well, he was an archivist. Everything Mr. Kurosaki gave him was 'useful' - to an extent. Most of the documents he received were filed away and left there, never to be uncovered ever again. Ironically, it is the documents that aren't filed way that are often requested from him.
Like those minutes back from the meeting in 1998...
"Ah, yes. Well, it is my job to file things away, so. He couldn't give me something that isn't useful." He grinned.
"So, Mr. Kurosaki... Junior," he started, tilting his head. He never got the man's name. "I don't suppose you work in publishing as well?" It was the first time seeing him, and he was sure he knew, in general, what all the staff looked like, so. He wasn't a Soul Society employee.
Couldn't give him something that wasn't useful, huh? Apparently Isshin was more normal to his staff than his family...of course, they weren't related to him, either. Probably reined in the crazy at work so that he could unleash it all at home.
Mr. Kurosaki Jr.? That was a first...Ichigo shook his head.
"No, I don't. Ichigo Kurosaki, of the Vaizard." It was actually a bit nice that Ukitake didn't recognize him; meant that there wasn't going to be any demands made of him. He didn't really get it here much, but every once in a while an intern or someone would corner him during one of his visits.
Filing all day had to be an ungodly boring job...Ichigo tried to think of something to keep the conversation going, since he couldn't really be rude to the man after just standing there while he put on a good show of dying and given him candy...which was still melting in his hand...Ichigo reluctantly popped it in his mouth, not wanting his hand to get even stickier and definitely not wanting to put the thing in his pocket.
"So, uh...have you been here a long time?"
Ah - the Vaizard. It was a very popular band - he remembered the fuss the office kicked up when they released their last album. That was quite a while ago... Perhaps they were taking a break from CD making.
He himself was more into classical music, but everyone had their own tastes, and the music seemed to settle well with many people.
"Guitarist, right? I've heard your music. You're very good," he said, smiling. He remembered how distinct each of the band members looked like, seeing as they were on one of the Soul Society magazine covers - a magazine issue he had helped Shunsui out a little bit with.
"Me?" he asked, in regard to the question. "I've been here... for about... a decade or so. It's a nice job - not the same as what I used to do, but it's different - and not in a bad way."
"Mr. Kurosaki must be very proud, having such a capable son."
Ichigo nodded his acknowledgment at the praise, giving a well-practiced smile to the man standing in front of him. From the looks of things, Ukitake wasn't going to be asking anything more about the band, which took pressure off him.
So he'd been here a long time...a decade seemed a long time to work at something as dull as filing, but Isshin probably really needed the help, so...probably a good thing that the man had the patience for that.
Oh, his dad was proud of him, all right...he'd heard that fact more than enough times. Hoping to steer the conversation away from his dad, he focused on what Ukitake had said.
"So, um...what did you do before?"
What did he do before? Hm. Well he could go into the mundane details of his life, but Ichigo was probably not interested.
"The job - I got the job as soon as I moved to New York. I was in Canada before," he started, reminiscing down memory lane. "I taught... Preservation and archival work, at the University of British Columbia." He smiled, recalling those days - when he was younger, when he was handling brittle fragments of columns, parchments, vases and whatnot thousands of years old.
That was probably the only part of his old job that he missed - handling artifacts, putting his real expertise to work, and sharing that information, that knowledge - that passion, to budding students.
But work here was good too - it was great. He loved his job - sure, it could be stressful sometimes, sorting out the mess here, looking for and shelving away missing documents. He liked the people he worked with, too. So much was great about his job - he couldn't ask for anything more.
"It was a great job - but I wouldn't give up this one to go back there. I love this job too."
So Ukitake was Canadian? And used to be a teacher? Odd that he ended up tidying up records for Isshin here in New York...maybe it was because of his health that he stopped teaching? Whatever the reason, it was probably a good thing for his dad, considering he probably wasn't exactly the most organized person. Having someone who could last a decade tidying up things around here and love it...Isshin was lucky.
"That's good..." Ichigo nodded, rolling the jawbreaker around in his mouth as he thought.
"I should get going...it was nice to meet you."
Ah, yes. He should probably not hold up the kid any longer. Had had come to deliver the documents, after all. He nodded, extending his hand. "The pleasure is all mine..." He was not too sure how to address the kid yet, so he let his voice trail off, smiling.
"Oh and uh..." He gazed over to the pile of ensanguined tissues on the floor, scratching the back of his head. "I would appreciate it if... You could..." He averted his gaze, trying to formulate the words for it.
"Mm." He returned his gaze to Ichigo, smiling again. "It wasn't serious, and I don't want Mr. Kurosaki to worry, so... It would be nice... if you could, y'know... Keep it - to yourself." He hoped the request did not come off as too rude.
Again with saying that coughing blood wasn't serious...how could it not be? His dad would worry, a lot. But maybe this time it would be a good thing. Even with all the smiling and sharing candy, Ukitake had to be seriously sick to have something like that happen at all, let alone at work.
"Uh...I hope you feel better soon..." Ichigo muttered awkwardly, shaking hands and forcing a weak smile once again before turning and exiting the room. That had not gone anything like he'd expected, and he made a mental note not to get talked into running errands again anytime soon.
Characters: Ichigo (
akaadji ), Ukitake (
lcpdragonslayer )
Timeline: July 5, 2007
Rating: PG
Summary: Ichigo meets Soul Society's archivist... and it's not a great first impression.
Ichigo sighed to himself. Why had he let himself be talked into being an errand boy? All he'd done was stop by to talk to Isshin for a few minutes about those plans the man had made for the two of them. But, of course, when he went to leave his father had conveniently remembered that he needed to have some papers dropped off at Ukitake's desk. He'd never met the man, but Isshin's insistence that he was a great guy did little to raise his enthusiasm. Isshin liked everyone.
Okay, so the guy was in the back corner of the office...his dad assured him that he'd recognize Ukitake on sight. As though the filing room would be absolutely bustling with people. ...it was neater down here than he'd expected, but...was that a garbage can filled with nothing but candy wrappers and a few crumpled papers? Who ate that much candy past the age of ten? He glanced over the desk it sat beside. It figured that the guy wouldn't be at his desk, assuming that was it...
"Hey, is anyone here?"
He stared blankly at the empty folder. He closed the folder, reading the sticker on its cover. "1998 - Meeting Minutes 4/2". He flipped the folder open again. And sure enough - he hadn't been hallucinating - the folder was. Empty.
He turned the folder upside down and shook it, hoping that the minutes would magically appear and drop down to the floor.
No such luck.
Sighing, he closed the manila folder and slotted it back into place. Just when he thought he had almost everything sorted out, too.
A small voice outside of the storage area caught his attention, and he began making his way back out of the storage room, careful to step around or over boxes and other artefacts.
He had made it to the doorway when he started coughing again, probably triggered from the mustiness and dust that plagued the Archives room. He caught a glimpse of bright orange lingering near his desk before lowering his head, coughing into his curled hand. He gripped onto the doorframe for support, the cough which wracked his body taking over.
And for the first time in months, his coughing involved blood.
He'd almost given up, planning to go and hand the paperwork back to Isshin saying that Ukitake wasn't there, when he heard faint coughing and footsteps. He looked in the direction they seemed to be coming from, catching sight of a white-haired man who quickly doubled over, apparently in the throws of a severe coughing fit. Fine, he'd just wait until he was done-was that blood? Shit. He set the papers down on the desk, hurrying over to the man's side.
"Um, should I call someone?" He asked, realizing only after the words left his mouth that it was an incredibly stupid thing to ask. Even if the guy could talk through his coughing, why the hell would he say no? What should he do? Help the guy stand, help him sit down?
He was gasping inbetween the coughs, blood rivuleting down between his fingers. As the person approached, he turned away slightly, coughing away from the orange-haired man.
He wasn't trying to be rude, or anything, but the last thing he wanted to do was to be responsible for passing tuberculosis and his other diseases on to torment someone else.
He slumped down to the ground slowly as the coughing fits subsided, breathing short but quick breaths of air, panting. It was not exactly the best first impression he could give, but it was nothing he could control.
"Could you..." his voice was reduced to a mere raspy whisper. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Could you pass me... a tissue?" He would be fine - he should be fine, anyway. The last thing he wanted to do was worry Mr. Kurosaki about his insistence of returning to work two days before his medical leave was due.
Ichigo's heart began to pound harder as more blood flowed from between the man's fingers and dripped onto the ground. Was the man actually dying right here in front of him? No, he couldn't be. Wouldn't he be asking for help of some kind?
The way the white-haired man turned away unnerved him a bit...it might just be that he didn't want to cough blood on him, but what if it's because it was something catching? He couldn't just stand there and watch even if it was, though, right?
Good job...he'd stood there uselessly throughout the whole thing. Seemed like the coughing has subsided now, and the man had sunk to the ground. He had to think for a moment before he understood the man's request, but hurried over to the desk and brought some as soon as it sunk in what he'd said.
"Uh...are you...going to be okay?" He muttered as he handed the tissues over, asking more to fill in the silence than because he actually expected an answer.
The white porous material soaked up the blood from his hand, and he used up more tissues as he wiped his hand off, then dabbed it over his lips. He glanced down at the mess he had made, and thanked silently that the storage area was cold, hard floor and not carpet.
Dropping the pile of tissues over the spot on the floor, his gaze wandered over to the orange-haired stranger, and he smiled. "I'm sorry," he began, eyes sparkling a little from the glossy film as well as the lighting from the area. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"It. Happens all the time." Well, no, not really. He coughed all the time - yes - but not blood. Maybe he should have rested out his medical leave. But so far this year he had already used up enough sick leave to cover the entire floor's worth of workers, and he felt bad about it.
"So long as Mr. Kurosaki doesn't find out, anyway." There was nothing worse - or rather, scarier - than a blood-coughing fit; nothing except Mr. Kurosaki - or, heaven forbid, Mr. Ishida - angry over his 'mistreatment of his body'. He managed a cheesy grin as he moved to stand, slowly.
"I'll have to go to the washroom first, if you don't mind... Wait for me for a few minutes?"
Well, it seemed like the man was going to be all right...as all right as you could be and cough blood, anyway...he watched awkwardly as the man cleaned himself up before putting the tissues over the blood on the floor. How on earth could the guy be so calm after that? And wow, he was a lot younger than he'd figured he would be...the guy looked middle-aged, but with the hair he'd naturally expected something else.
How could that happen all the time if he was still alive? Coughing blood was usually a sign of imminent death, wasn't it? Well, whatever. The man was trying to brush off the incident, and Ichigo wasn't exactly too eager to dwell on it either.
So he didn't want Isshin to find out about it...he could understand that. Isshin wasn't likely to be quiet about the idea that one of his employees was sick like that. Had to be telling the truth about it being something chronic, though, if the biggest thing he was worried about was his boss's reaction.
"Um, sure..." He could have just said that Isshin wanted him to have the papers and left, but he couldn't help but worry about the guy. Last thing he needed to do was leave then have the guy break out in another fit and aspirate blood or something...
He scrubbed away at his hands with the soap, letting the water run over his hands. The water was foamy, with a tinge of red, and with that almost all the traces of his coughing fit had disappeared.
Almost.
He dabbed some water on the edges of his lips, then on the inside, and he spat a little into the sink. The sickening taste of metallic blood still lingered in his mouth. He was going to need some water to wash it down.
Drying his hands off, he emerged from the bathroom and returned to the orange-haired young adult's company, smiling. It was as if nothing had happened. "I'm sorry for scaring you..." he started, laughing nervously as he slipped his hands into his pockets. His purple box of gobstoppers were conveniently in his pockets, and he pulled it out. Shaking two from the box into his hand, he slipped the box back into his pocket and stuck one globe into his mouth, offering the other to the kid.
"So... What can I do for you?"
Ichigo fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to keep his eyes from the small pile of white and red laying on the floor. He should just take the guy's word, but...that had freaked the hell out of him.
He took another look around the basement to distract himself. From the looks of things, there were a few other people who worked down here too...it wasn't the tidiest place, which sort of surprised him. His dad had said that Ukitake was an archivist...he would have expected the man to be a neat freak and make sure everyone else was too. But then, nothing about this was much like he'd expected.
He was relieved when the white-haired man returned, smiling at him. Put him at ease a bit. And his curiosity about the large amount of brightly-colored wrappers was satisfied as well when the man pulled a box of candy out of his pocket and ate one. Taking the candy more out of politeness than anything else, he gestured to the desk.
"My dad wanted me to bring some stuff down to you...uh, assuming you're Ukitake?"
He quirked his eyebrow and directed his gaze to the papers on his desk. Picking them up, he scanned through them briefly, and his eyes which widened ever so slightly were obscured behind the papers.
Dad?
Well he certainly wasn't Mr. Ishida's son... To his recollection, Mr. Ishida had mentioned once or twice in passing that he had 'a son', and that was Uryuu, the journalist.
So, with these kinds of papers... that could only mean...
"Ah! You're Mr. Kurosaki's son?" Well, now that he mentioned it, he could see a vague resemblance... although, personality wise, they seemed to be a little... different. He didn't know the kid very well to make a proper judgement, but he came off as a rather serious type.
...Which is more than he can say for Mr. Kurosaki. "Uh. It's nice to meet you..." he extended a hand in greeting, smiling warmly. "I am, indeed, Jyuushirou Ukitake..."
There it was...the usual surprise that accompanied his mentioning that yes, he was indeed Isshin's son. He was used to the odd looks and questions, and while he didn't like them he was good at deflecting them. After about the twentieth time, it had gotten annoying to agree that no, he wasn't anything like his father, and that yes, he was aware of it...thankfully, there was probably going to be no need for that in this case.
"Yeah, I am..it's nice to meet you too." Ichigo almost held out his hand still holding the now slightly sticky candy, but quickly switched it to his other hand and wiped his hand on his jeans before taking the older man's hand.
"Were the papers anything useful? Or is he sending out random pointless stuff?"
Useful? Well, he was an archivist. Everything Mr. Kurosaki gave him was 'useful' - to an extent. Most of the documents he received were filed away and left there, never to be uncovered ever again. Ironically, it is the documents that aren't filed way that are often requested from him.
Like those minutes back from the meeting in 1998...
"Ah, yes. Well, it is my job to file things away, so. He couldn't give me something that isn't useful." He grinned.
"So, Mr. Kurosaki... Junior," he started, tilting his head. He never got the man's name. "I don't suppose you work in publishing as well?" It was the first time seeing him, and he was sure he knew, in general, what all the staff looked like, so. He wasn't a Soul Society employee.
Couldn't give him something that wasn't useful, huh? Apparently Isshin was more normal to his staff than his family...of course, they weren't related to him, either. Probably reined in the crazy at work so that he could unleash it all at home.
Mr. Kurosaki Jr.? That was a first...Ichigo shook his head.
"No, I don't. Ichigo Kurosaki, of the Vaizard." It was actually a bit nice that Ukitake didn't recognize him; meant that there wasn't going to be any demands made of him. He didn't really get it here much, but every once in a while an intern or someone would corner him during one of his visits.
Filing all day had to be an ungodly boring job...Ichigo tried to think of something to keep the conversation going, since he couldn't really be rude to the man after just standing there while he put on a good show of dying and given him candy...which was still melting in his hand...Ichigo reluctantly popped it in his mouth, not wanting his hand to get even stickier and definitely not wanting to put the thing in his pocket.
"So, uh...have you been here a long time?"
Ah - the Vaizard. It was a very popular band - he remembered the fuss the office kicked up when they released their last album. That was quite a while ago... Perhaps they were taking a break from CD making.
He himself was more into classical music, but everyone had their own tastes, and the music seemed to settle well with many people.
"Guitarist, right? I've heard your music. You're very good," he said, smiling. He remembered how distinct each of the band members looked like, seeing as they were on one of the Soul Society magazine covers - a magazine issue he had helped Shunsui out a little bit with.
"Me?" he asked, in regard to the question. "I've been here... for about... a decade or so. It's a nice job - not the same as what I used to do, but it's different - and not in a bad way."
"Mr. Kurosaki must be very proud, having such a capable son."
Ichigo nodded his acknowledgment at the praise, giving a well-practiced smile to the man standing in front of him. From the looks of things, Ukitake wasn't going to be asking anything more about the band, which took pressure off him.
So he'd been here a long time...a decade seemed a long time to work at something as dull as filing, but Isshin probably really needed the help, so...probably a good thing that the man had the patience for that.
Oh, his dad was proud of him, all right...he'd heard that fact more than enough times. Hoping to steer the conversation away from his dad, he focused on what Ukitake had said.
"So, um...what did you do before?"
What did he do before? Hm. Well he could go into the mundane details of his life, but Ichigo was probably not interested.
"The job - I got the job as soon as I moved to New York. I was in Canada before," he started, reminiscing down memory lane. "I taught... Preservation and archival work, at the University of British Columbia." He smiled, recalling those days - when he was younger, when he was handling brittle fragments of columns, parchments, vases and whatnot thousands of years old.
That was probably the only part of his old job that he missed - handling artifacts, putting his real expertise to work, and sharing that information, that knowledge - that passion, to budding students.
But work here was good too - it was great. He loved his job - sure, it could be stressful sometimes, sorting out the mess here, looking for and shelving away missing documents. He liked the people he worked with, too. So much was great about his job - he couldn't ask for anything more.
"It was a great job - but I wouldn't give up this one to go back there. I love this job too."
So Ukitake was Canadian? And used to be a teacher? Odd that he ended up tidying up records for Isshin here in New York...maybe it was because of his health that he stopped teaching? Whatever the reason, it was probably a good thing for his dad, considering he probably wasn't exactly the most organized person. Having someone who could last a decade tidying up things around here and love it...Isshin was lucky.
"That's good..." Ichigo nodded, rolling the jawbreaker around in his mouth as he thought.
"I should get going...it was nice to meet you."
Ah, yes. He should probably not hold up the kid any longer. Had had come to deliver the documents, after all. He nodded, extending his hand. "The pleasure is all mine..." He was not too sure how to address the kid yet, so he let his voice trail off, smiling.
"Oh and uh..." He gazed over to the pile of ensanguined tissues on the floor, scratching the back of his head. "I would appreciate it if... You could..." He averted his gaze, trying to formulate the words for it.
"Mm." He returned his gaze to Ichigo, smiling again. "It wasn't serious, and I don't want Mr. Kurosaki to worry, so... It would be nice... if you could, y'know... Keep it - to yourself." He hoped the request did not come off as too rude.
Again with saying that coughing blood wasn't serious...how could it not be? His dad would worry, a lot. But maybe this time it would be a good thing. Even with all the smiling and sharing candy, Ukitake had to be seriously sick to have something like that happen at all, let alone at work.
"Uh...I hope you feel better soon..." Ichigo muttered awkwardly, shaking hands and forcing a weak smile once again before turning and exiting the room. That had not gone anything like he'd expected, and he made a mental note not to get talked into running errands again anytime soon.