Bleach: Shunsui's 24/7 job as Father (Gone wrong)
A/n: i was watching return of superman witht he triplets and i decides....
''yes''
This has bene in my drafts long enough
@shayinstarlight
Morning in the Seireitei was usually gentle.
The sunlight filtered through the thin shoji screens in soft gold bands, the breeze carried the distant chatter of shinigami beginning their duties, and the courtyard outside the Kyōraku residence rustled quietly with bamboo leaves.
It should have been peaceful.
Instead, it was the sound of tiny, determined footsteps.
Three of them.
The youngest arrived first.
Saburo, only a year old and round in the way babies often are, waddled unsteadily across the tatami floor with both hands out for balance. His cheeks were still puffy with sleep, his hair sticking up in soft black tufts. Each step landed with a soft pat, pat, pat as he made his slow but very committed journey toward the porch.
Behind him came the real trouble.
Jiro,two years old, fast, and entirely lacking any sense of caution, hurried along with the reckless confidence only toddlers possessed. He nearly tripped over Saburo twice, laughed about it both times, and continued forward with a grin that promised mischief.
Then came the eldest.
Three-year-old Taro moved with the calm certainty of someone who believed he was the commander of this entire expedition. His little arms were folded behind his back in what he clearly believed was a very serious pose.
They had a mission.
And the mission was sleeping on the porch.
Outside, stretched lazily across the wooden floorboards with his straw hat tilted over his face, lay Shunsui Kyōraku.
The captain of the Eighth Division looked as if he had simply collapsed where he sat the night before. One arm was draped loosely over his chest, his pink haori spilling around him in a careless heap. A small sake bottle sat beside him, and judging by the way he was breathing,deep and slow,he had absolutely no intention of waking up any time soon.
The boys gathered around him like tiny conspirators.
Taro crouched first, peeking beneath the brim of the straw hat.
Their father was definitely asleep.
The boy leaned closer and whispered with the seriousness of a general issuing orders.
“Daddy sleeping.”
Jiro gasped like this was the most exciting discovery imaginable.
“Daddy sleep!”
Saburo, who had no interest in whispering at all, raised both hands enthusiastically.
“DA!”
And just like that, the attack began.
Taro climbed onto his father’s stomach with the determined effort of a tiny mountain climber. Jiro grabbed hold of the captain’s loose sleeve and tugged it like he was trying to ring a bell. Saburo simply leaned forward and planted both hands directly on Shunsui’s face.
Shunsui groaned.
It was a long, theatrical sound, the sort of groan a man made when fate itself had personally betrayed him.
Slowly, the straw hat slid down his face.
He opened one eye.
Three small faces hovered above him.
For a long moment, the captain of one of the most powerful military divisions in the Soul Society stared up at them in complete silence.
Then he sighed.
“Ah,” he murmured hoarsely, his voice still thick with sleep. “Ambushed before breakfast. How merciless.”
Saburo immediately grabbed his nose.
“Da!”
“Yes, yes,” Shunsui replied tiredly. “I recognize you, little Ryoka.”
Jiro bounced happily on his chest.
“Horsey!”
Taro, who was clearly proud of their success, crossed his arms again.
“Daddy awake.”
Shunsui blinked at the bright morning sky above him and muttered to himself.
“Three against one… hardly a fair fight.”
By late morning, the captain had made a strategic decision.
If he stayed inside the house any longer, they would absolutely dismantle it piece by piece. So he did what any responsible father would do. He strapped two of the children directly to his body.
Saburo rode comfortably on his back, wrapped snugly in cloth and chewing contentedly on the edge of Shunsui’s hat. Jiro sat against his chest, kicking his legs happily with every step.Taro walked beside them, clutching the loose sleeve of his father’s haori like it was a safety rope.
Together they strolled through the Seireitei.
The sight caused quite a stir.
Shinigami paused mid-conversation. A few younger officers nearly walked into walls while staring.
One brave soldier whispered to another.
“…Are those children attached to Captain Kyōraku?”
Shunsui raised a hand lazily in greeting.
“Morning, boys.”
Jiro waved enthusiastically.
“CAPTAIN!”
The soldiers froze.
Shunsui chuckled quietly.
Later, the four of them settled near a small pond in a quiet park.
Taro had taken it upon himself to throw rocks into the water with intense concentration, each splash treated like a major scientific achievement. Jiro chased butterflies with wild, zigzagging energy, shouting something incomprehensible every time one escaped him. Saburo remained on Shunsui’s back, drooling peacefully onto his shoulder.
The captain watched them all with a quiet smile. For a man known for his laziness, he had been surprisingly busy that day.
Taro suddenly ran over.
“Daddy! Watch!”
The boy leapt dramatically off a small rock that barely reached Shunsui’s knee.
Shunsui clapped slowly.
“Incredible,” he said solemnly. “A natural talent.”
Jiro ran back moments later, tears threatening because the butterfly he had been chasing had flown away.
Shunsui lifted him easily into his arms.
“Ah,” he murmured, patting the boy’s back. “First heartbreak already? Life can be cruel.”
Saburo giggled from behind his shoulder.
Shunsui laughed softly.
Three little storms.
Somehow, they had completely taken over his life.
By afternoon, all three boys had collapsed in exhaustion.
Holy hour
Nap time.
The room was quiet again.
Taro lay curled beside his father, one small hand clutching the edge of Shunsui’s sleeve. Jiro was sprawled across the captain’s chest like a starfish, breathing softly. Saburo slept in his crib, still holding a piece of the pink haori he had refused to let go of.
Shunsui watched them for a while.
Then Taro stirred.
“Daddy…”
“Yes?”
“Story.”
Jiro sat up immediately.
“Story!”
Saburo stood in his crib and shouted his favorite word.
“DA!”
Shunsui rubbed his temples dramatically and scoop Saburo from his crib and plant him against his chest.
“My, my,” he sighed. “No rest for a hardworking father.”
But he leaned back against the wall anyway.
“Alright,” he said softly. “Just one.”
The boys settled down again.
Shunsui’s voice became quiet and warm.
“Once upon a time… there was a very tired captain…”
The children’s eyes slowly closed.
“…who was defeated every morning by three tiny warriors…”
Taro’s grip on his sleeve loosened.
Jiro’s breathing grew steady.
Saburo sank back into his pillow aka his dad's arm
Shunsui looked at them all and smiled.
“…and though they made his life very loud…”
His voice softened.
“…they made it very happy too.”
Within minutes, the captain was asleep as well.
Surrounded by his three little storms.
EXTRA
The sunlight in the room had softened to a lazy, golden haze by the time Y/n stepped inside. She had expected quiet, maybe a faint mess from breakfast, but what she saw stole the breath from her chest.
There, in the center of the tatami room, lay Shunsui. Pink haori tousled, straw hat sliding slightly over his eyes, chest rising and falling in steady, gentle breaths. And around him… her three sons, all sprawled in various degrees of slumber, utterly unconcerned with the world. Taro had curled against his father’s sleeve like a tiny anchor; Jiro lay half on Shunsui’s chest, half draped across the floor, a single arm dangling over the captain’s side; and Saburo, her baby, had tucked his chubby little arms around the hem of Shunsui’s pink haori, his face nuzzled into the soft fabric.
For a moment, Y/n just froze. Her hand hovered at the doorway, unsure whether to step inside and disturb the scene or simply watch.
The room smelled faintly of warm bodies, a hint of baby powder, and the lingering aroma of whatever chaotic breakfast had been attempted earlier. The quiet hum of the Seireitei outside contrasted sharply with the soft snores of her husband and the rhythmic, tiny breathing of her children.
A small smile tugged at her lips. The sight was utterly human. Vulnerable. Soft. The captain of the Eighth Division, the man who wielded a sword with effortless grace and charm, was here reduced to a puddle of warmth, utterly defeated by his own family and yet, somehow, completely at peace.
Y/n stepped closer, careful not to wake anyone. Her hand brushed lightly against the sleeve of the haori near Saburo’s tiny fingers, and she felt the soft weight of the baby pressing against the fabric. She chuckled softly, a whisper that barely disturbed the still air.
“You’ve… lost, haven’t you?” she murmured, her voice carrying equal parts amusement and love.
Shunsui’s lips twitched in a sleep-strewn grin. Even in slumber, he seemed aware of her presence, half-turning his head toward the sound.
Y/n crouched down next to him, careful to keep her movements slow. Her eyes swept over Taro’s peaceful face, Jiro’s messy little hair sticking out in every direction, and Saburo’s tiny hands clutching the haori as though it were a life preserver. She reached out, smoothing a lock of Taro’s hair off his forehead, then Jiro’s, then gently brushing Saburo’s cheek.
Her gaze shifted to Shunsui again, lingering. The thought struck her with quiet awe: here was the man she loved: irresponsible, charming, chaotic in his own way but now, in this soft golden light, he was a father. Not just a protector, not just the captain who could command armies or defeat hollow after hollow… but a father, utterly human, utterly present, utterly soft.
Y/n exhaled, a mixture of relief and adoration flooding her chest. She stayed there, watching, feeling the calm after the storm of the morning, and for a moment, it was as if nothing else existed in the Seireitei but her little family.
And perhaps that was enough.
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