Maybe It Was Called Useless Old Man

The fury in Ichigo Kurosaki's heart was like a bucket of cold water being dumped over it, instantly extinguishing most of the flames. Even so, he braced himself, stiffened his neck, and argued back.

"Who—who's afraid?!"

He really was afraid.

From childhood to adulthood, the person he feared most had always been Aunt Yuko. In particular, the memories of her chasing him around from elementary school through high school had left a deep impression.

"Anyone can tell at a glance that you're scared, right?" Kisuke Urahara fanned the flames with everyone else. "Don't you agree? Even your voice has gone shrill."

Yuko yawned and stretched. "I think your words are a little too sharp."

Ichigo Kurosaki's movements visibly stiffened when he saw how things were going.

Kisuke Urahara looked at Yuko with amusement. "What do you say? Want to play?"

Yuko waved dismissively. "No thanks. I'm not interested. You all take your time playing."

Kisuke Urahara wasn't surprised by Yuko's straightforward refusal. He merely gave Ichigo a meaningful smile and raised his fan to cover half his face. "Oh my, what a pity~"

"'Ichigo, it looks like your Aunt Yuko isn't interested in you. You can relax now, right?'"

The corner of Ichigo Kurosaki's mouth twitched violently.

What did he mean, "relax now"? Every single one of that guy's words sounded like he was fanning the flames!

Still, he really had breathed a sigh of relief. But after Urahara pointed it out, that breath became stuck in his chest, neither rising nor falling, leaving him with a bellyful of anger and nowhere to vent it.

No, no, no. Wasn't there a perfect punching bag right here?

"Die, you despicable profiteer!"

Borrowing Rukia's way of addressing him, Ichigo tightened his grip on the broken blade, which had almost been reduced to