He had died- honorably, he'd like to think, despite living as a villain and an assassin for over half a century- and that, as far as Xanxus had ever figured, would be the end of that. No heaven. No hell. Just life when you were breathing and nothingness when you stopped. Except that it didn't, quite, turn out that way. Except he came back as the son of the kindest, sometimes saddest father in the world. In both worlds. A father that he knew, without a doubt, to be his flesh and blood. All at once, Xanxus had everything he'd wanted as a child. A home. A family. Stability. And he was going to fight like hell and beat down anyone who tried to take it from him, no matter what his age. (In which Sakumo raises a son who speaks multiple languages from birth, all of them gibberish to the poor single father jounin, spits vulgarity with the same ease as he does his praise and burns with an unshakable determination to build himself a family that will not fall, no matter who or what is thrown against it.)

“Kid, this is Kurosaki Ichigo,” Kūkaku says, and there's something crafty in her expression that makes her look far too much like Urahara for comfort. “Ichigo, this is Uchiha Obito, resident ninja.” “Ninja?” Ichigo repeats, dropping the attempt at politeness in favor of incredulity. “You mean like a ninja ninja?”

Twenty is probably too young to die, even for a shinobi, but if anyone can kill Sakura with sheer attractiveness, it's Kori.

Twenty is probably too young to die, even for a shinobi, but if anyone can kill Sakura with sheer attractiveness, it's Kori.