Like Father, Like Frown || Ichigo Kurosaki ||
A/n: Small little blurb cause I can only write small things at the moment cause I feel like shit.
It started at the grocery store.
You were holding your son’s hand as he trudged beside you, tiny face set in a dead-serious scowl that mirrored Ichigo’s so perfectly that people actually moved out of the way.
The clerk whispered to her coworker, “Is… is that his kid or his clone?”
Your son didn’t answer , just squinted harder, like he was judging the entire produce aisle.
You sighed, grabbing a bag of apples and tossing them into the cart. “Sweetheart, can you try smiling?”
He looked up at you, brow furrowed. “Papa says smiling makes people suspicious.”
“Of course he does.” You sigh dropping your shoulders as you then turned to look for Ichigo who was on the other side of the store, crossing his arms and glaring at the price of cereal.
Two identical scowling gingers. One tall, one pocket-sized.And the poor manager tripped over himself trying not to make eye contact.
By the time you got home, Ichigo was lugging the bags in while your son followed behind him, copying every single move.
When Ichigo grunted, your son grunted.
When Ichigo crossed his arms, so did he.
When Ichigo sighed and muttered, “I can’t believe milk costs that much,” the boy repeated it, same tone, same irritation, just… squeakier.
You leaned against the counter, arms folded. “I live with two angry strawberries.”
Ichigo frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Your son, still scowling, nodded seriously. “We’re angry strawberries, Papa.”
Ichigo’s jaw twitched. “Don’t encourage her.”
“I didn’t!” you laughed, covering your mouth.
That evening, Isshin dropped by — dramatically kicking open the door, as usual. “MY BEAUTIFUL GRANDSON! WHERE IS HE?!”
Your son ran out from behind the couch. “Grandpa!”
Isshin scooped him up and twirled him in circles, both of them laughing until the little boy abruptly stopped and gave his grandfather the patented Kurosaki death-glare.
Isshin froze. “Wha—hey, what’s with the angry eyes?!”
“I’m practicing my Papa face,” your son said proudly.
Ichigo walked in at that exact moment, same frown, same posture, same tone. “What’s going on in here?”
The resemblance was painfully perfect.
Isshin fell to his knees, hands clasped dramatically. “KARMA! SWEET, BEAUTIFUL KARMA! The universe has punished you, my son!”
“You tormented me for years with that scowl, and now you’ve been blessed with a tiny version who looks at you like you’re a disappointment!”
“I WILL NOT! THIS IS JUSTICE!”
Your son crossed his arms just like his father. “Grandpa, Papa says when you talk too much, everyone gets a headache.”
Isshin gasped in mock horror. “He really is your son.”
You laughed so hard you had to sit down. “Oh, it’s definitely karma.”
Later that night, Ichigo was brushing his teeth beside your son. You leaned against the doorframe, watching them in the mirror — identical frowns, identical movements, identical grumbles about “too much toothpaste.”
It was eerie. And adorable.
You smiled softly. “You know, the world’s not ready for two of you.”
Ichigo rinsed his mouth, looking down at the boy. “Guess it’ll have to deal with us.”
Your son grinned up at him for the first time that day and for just a moment, the scowl disappeared.
Isshin peeked around the corner, pretending to sob. “He smiled! That’s my grandson, not a tiny demon!”
Ichigo threw the towel at him. “GET OUT!”
Isshin ducked away, cackling, “KARMAAAA!”
Later, as you tucked your son into bed, he yawned and mumbled, “Mama… do you like Papa’s frown?”
You brushed his hair back. “I love it. But I love your smile even more.”
“Even when I frown like Papa?”
“Especially then,” you said softly. “Because both of my angry strawberries are still the sweetest things in the world.”
Ichigo leaned on the doorway, arms folded, fighting a smile. “You calling me sweet?”
You looked over your shoulder, smirking. “Maybe I’m calling you predictable.”
He grinned finally, a real one. “Guess karma’s not all bad.”
From down the hall, Isshin’s voice echoed again, because of course the man was still here. “IT’S BEAUTIFUL KARMA, MY SON! BEAUTIFU—”
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