Babies! And additional vague rockstar-ness. Just because.

"And that's the story of how you were born."

"Bullshit," said his son.

Ichigo hit him.

"So whenever you go considering selling yourself to the circus just. remember. Your name could've been Gunther Gebel-Williams--"

"And like they actually let you do stuff like that when you were on tour."

"--Gunther Gebel-Williams the Sixth," said Ichigo.

"And like there was an elephant."

"And that was one of your mom's more pronounceable ideas."

The kid closed his mouth. He sat there sorely on the arm of the couch, rubbing the back of his head and pulling his hat down further over messy, blonde strands sticking out from under it.

"So," Ichigo picked up his black guitar, giving it the grin of an old, old friend, "If you want to get picked up by gypsies or join a chain gang or dye your hair or whatever--you might want to take it up with her first."

"...yeah."

"See ya," said Ichigo, out the door. Gone with a click and a sound of boots on the steps outside.

"Yeah," said his son. He gave himself a moment to look sullen, another to scowl, and then a last to take his hat off, before heading back upstairs. His family was so goddamn mental.

...and maybe he was a little lucky for it. Of that though, Kurosaki Six could never really be sure.