Rights to Bleach belong to Tite Kubo. I do not make any money off of this. Also, Ossan's flashback in this is a line of his from the series.

You guys are awesome! I'm so glad Cute But Creepy (chapter 5) went over so well! _ Your comments make me smile and give me the courage to continue putting my heart and soul out here for you to read.

Also! LB1324 thank you for the situation request! I had an idea for one and thought that your idea would go along swimmingly with the setup! I hope I did it some justice here, let me know what you thought! Everyone stay safe and try to have some fun in your homes!

Also, this fic inspired me to write a one-shot based as some background on one of Ichigo's passions mentioned here. Check out Strings of Remembrance after this chapter if you want some more context!

—ΘΦΘ—

Speech Key:

"Speaking Normal"

'Thinking Normal'

'Flashback'

"Ossan Speaking"

"Shiro Speaking"

—ΘΦΘ—

"…"

"Ossan?"

"Hmm?"

"Aren't you going to stop him?"

"Nope."

"… why not?"

"I've given up trying. Besides, its kind of amusing. If he's trying yoga, he's failing spectacularly."

Sigh. Ichigo pinches his nose and begins massaging the increasing number of frown lines forming on his forehead. "Can you try again? For my sanity's sake?"

Sigh. "SHIRO!"

"What!?"

"Why are you crawling around on buildings?"

"There are things in there!"

"Wait, what kind of things?" Ichigo asked as he walked over. Shiro was bent over in a downward dog pose looking in the window of a building. The esteemed strawberry crouched down and looked into the window, with his hands cupped around his face, along side his albino twin.

After a moment, Ossan walked up behind the two and raised his brow. Curiously, he leaned over and peeked into the window over Ichigo's shoulder.

"What's that in there?"

Shiro grinned widely. "Let's find out!" He yelled as he used his khyber blade to bash open the side of the building. Glass flew everywhere.

"SHIRO!" "SHIRO!"

Both of the saner members of the soul turned around and braced themselves as a rush of air and shards of glass flew out in a spray of chaos. Shiro's cackling could be heard over the roar of the offended building, belching out air and debris in one last act of retaliation before revealing it's hidden treasures.

"Woah"

"What? How? How long has this been here?"

"Wow…"

The room was a huge old fashioned dojo. There were bamboo walls, interlocking tatami mat flooring, sliding paper doors painted with images of their glorious battles, along with the Shiba and Quincy symbols featured frequently throughout the illustrious scenes.

Along the walls were various wall scrolls displaying the family names to pay homage to the King's roots. Weapon racks filled with hundreds of melee weapons lined the outer frame. An inner area was sectioned off by a step-down to the middle of the room, clearly set aside for sparring purposes.

"Just woah"

"My sentiments exactly."

"What else is in these buildings…?"

"Let's find out!" Shiro cackled like mad as he leapt out of the dojo back onto the glass of the skyscraper. Leaping to another building, he began bashing in the windows at, what seemed to be, random ado.

Ichigo sighed at his zanpakuto's antics, well used to the unnecessary chaos he seemed to marvel in. Looking to Ossan, they departed to follow the battle crazed spirit, albeit at a more subdued pace.

—After Following Shiro For A While—

So far, the hunt for interesting rooms revealed many new things for them to do. The most interesting things that they have found are an arcade, a bar (which Ossan had to drag Shiro away from, but not without looking back at the mahogany bar for himself), a heated swimming pool (with a spa on the next floor!), and even an entire mall! But that's not what holds the trio's attention currently. No, that privilege belongs to the room in front of them right now.

"Is this…"

"An art studio."

Ichigo scratched the back of his head. "Looks like it." After shrugging, he turned back towards the way that they came. "I'm gonna head back towards that dojo and see what I can find. You both can stay here and keep checking out more rooms."

"King, we know you want to go back to that theatre."

Ichigo flushed the color if his ~berry sweet~ namesake.

"Never be ashamed of your talents, Ichigo. Your skill with the violin is well earned through your hard work and is a leftover memory from your time spent with your mother. Be proud."

With a sheepish smile and nod towards his spirits, the hero shunpoed off towards his destination. The two spirits smiled at their wielder's unexpected (by others' standards) passion.

"Aren't art studios supposed to be… I don't know, artsy?" Shiro asked as he walked into the building. He picked up a white/silver can and tossed it up in the air repeatedly.

The room is white. White walls, white floors, white lights, white canvases, white- well, you get the idea.

"Reminds me of someone I know." Ossan tilted his head with a smirk.

"Oh you wanna go Old Man?" Shiro growled as he reached for the longer of his blades. However, he stopped short of grabbing it before smirking deviously. Changing the course of his hand to the trench knife on his black obi, he slammed the butt of it into the can's lid and threw the can at Ossan.

An indignant squeal (Ossan will forever vehemently deny ever making such a high pitch noise) tears its way through said Old Man's lips. Why? Because he is now splattered in neon orange paint.

Insane cackles permeate the air in bounds of colorful madness.

*Twitch… Twitch…*

"Shiro…"

*Shhhhhhiiiiiiiink!*

Ossan draws his blade and slices at Shiro…

*SSSHHHRIIPLAAAT*

Only for Shiro to dodge and the blade to pass through a multitude of paints.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHa-*wheeze*HAHAHAHAHAHHA*wheeze*HAAAAAAA! OH *gasp* MY *gasp* GOSH! You look *wheeze* like a Jackson *gasp* Polluck painting!"

Ossan growled, as he looked down at his ruined cloak. He truly looked like one of those abstract rainbow paintings. His blade seemed as if it has taken a dunk in tie dye. And what's worse? The infuriating albino was pristine. His lips quirked, that had to be fixed.

Sheathing his blade, Ossan surveys his surroundings. Hundreds of paint cans lined the shelves, all without labels (or if they had them, he didn't care at the time). He quickly whipped out a bow, and took aim. The bleached spirit ducked to avoid the barrage of arrows, but that was all to Ossan's plan. After all, he is a true marksman, and he never misses his target. The shelves came tumbling down. And with his arrows having pierced through each of the paint cans, well, like a line he heard from one of Karin's games: Justice Rains From Above.

"NOooOoOoOOoOOOoOOoOOOOooOOoOO! My porcelain skin! My white clothes! Do you have any idea how much Bleach I'll need to get this out!? We haven't even found a laundry mat yet!"

"Don't dish it out if you can't take it."

Shiro reached over to a drawer and pulled out a pair of paint brushes.

"It's on, you Old Coot!"

Ossan dismissed his bow and did the same.

"Don't go crying to Ichigo when you become a living tie dyed shirt for the rest of eternity!"

They each dipped their brushes in a couple of the paint cans laying around…

"Heh, King won't even recognize you when I'm done. In fact, I think Van Gogh will be proud!"

*WHOOSH*

And then they both took off.

*SPLAT*

This? This was war.

Ossan dodged a feint right hook and deftly blocked the left low jab aiming for his sternum. He swiftly retaliated with his own brush, flinging a glob of blue paint at the (previously) white doppelgänger of this world's king. After splattering the azure paint all over his opponent, Ossan readied his other brush to do the same, but was interrupted by a surprise tactic from the other.

Shiro began to sling his brush around on a string, helicoptering it like he would his blade. Bright yellow paint flung everywhere, polka dotting all of his surroundings, including Ossan. Cackling, he reeled in his brush and began to prepare the other side for the same treatment.

Ossan darted away from the crazed spirit and ran into a bin. Before sprinting off, he noticed it was filled with tubes. Grinning to himself, the Quincy grabbed a bunch of them and dove for cover behind a standing shelf. He managed to avoid most of the wild spray in time, but his left leg and right foot weren't so lucky, now sporting neon purple dots. As he came up from his roll, he bit the caps off of the tubes. Peaking from behind his shelter, he surveyed the area. Shiro stalked over to a row of paint cans and began reloading. Perfect. Ossan darted out from the shelf and squeezed.

In a matter of seconds, Shiro was coated in goopy strands of pastel colored paints. Snickering, Ossan threw the empty-ish tubes to the side and prepared to grab some more. When Shiro began to prepare for another Hail Mary, this time flinging both of his brushes at once, Ossan changed course. The mush of paint that came flying at him made for a difficult time dodging. Yet dodge he did…

*Crash – Poof!*

Right into a shelf of glitter.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HOLY *gasp* COW YOU LOOK *gasp* LIKE Α DISCO BALL! *huff* Or a Fairy God Mother! *gasp* GAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Shiro hit the ground, clutching his sides and laughing at the Old Man.

"Says the *pfft* one who looks *ack* one who looks like they got into a fight *bleufh* with an Easter egg and lost." A bit of Ossan's taunt was lost to choking on glitter, but it's the thought that counts!

… Right?

As Shiro made to dive at Ossan with some glow in the dark, neon yellow paint, he was interrupted by a noise coming from the impromptu entrance of the art studio. Whipping around towards the source of the noise, Shiro dropped the paint onto his own head in the process.

"Oh come on!" Shiro whined out at the accident.

Standing in the entrance was Ichigo. The orangette being clean and thoroughly confused.

"…"

"…"

Shiro glanced at Ossan as Ossan did the same to him.

"He started it."

"Blasphemy. Your claims are unfounded."

"Riiiiiiiiight. I'm gonna head back to the theater now…"

It was then that they noticed the slightly puffy areas around his eyes and put two and two together.

"Ichigo, you know you can talk to us. We will always be here for you." Ossan stated as he stood up, his voice calming and far gentler than he used with anyone other than their king. And even then, only specific moments.

The sun was still shining, and if he hadn't caught sight of the droplets cascading down the lengths of Ichigo's hair, he wouldn't have noticed the drizzling rain outside.

Ossan frowned. This… won't do. Despite outward appearances, he remembers his promise.

'Can You understand?'

"Ichigo."

Said substitutes turned back to him with a questioning gaze.

'How horrible it is to get rained on when you are all alone in an empty world?'

"You are not alone."

'I'll lend you whatever power you need! To prevent that from happening… I won't let one drop of rain fall from that sky!'

"I…We are here. Whatever it is, we will not leave you. We are your power…"

'If you can trust me… Trust me… You are not alone in battle… Ichigo!'

"We have a bond; an unbreakable trust. You have not ever, and will never be alone, Ichigo."

With this said, Ossan had a light smile on his face. Recalling the first real talk he ever had with his wielder- no. His partner.

The mist outside began to thicken, but no rain fell any longer. Ichigo smiled, one he reserved for only those close enough to discern the difference. Turning back full to Ossan, he began to speak once more.

"I know. I-"

"Well this is depressing."

"SHIRO!"

"I'm sorry. I-"

"Blah blah blah! Can't hear you over all this self deprivation!"

"I think you mean self deprecation." Ossan pointed with a sweat drop.

Ichigo frowned.

"Oi! Don't go getting all mopey on me now, King!"

"Shiro."

"AHA! I know exactly what you need!"

Sigh. "And what is that, Shiro?"

Shiro grinned and spread his arms wide.

"A HUG!"

"NO!"

Cackles rung throughout the room as Shiro (still colorful) chased after Ichigo with arms spread wide. He was determined to catch-up to the Strawberry King and thoroughly cover him paint as well.

Once they left the building, Ossan smiled. Shiro was brash, crude, angry, crazy, sarcastic and less than subtle. But deep down he meant well. After all, it was his colorful personality that made him who he was.