|faicinn_rocais (faicinn_rocais) wrote,|
@ 2008-12-09 17:22:00
|Current location:||dirty room|
|Current music:||Blind Guardian - Battlefield|
|Entry tags:||abarai renji, arrancar, bleach, captains, espada, hollowchi, hollows, karakura town, kon, kuchiki byakuya, kuchiki rukia, kurosaki ichigo, modsoul, shinigami, shirochi, urahara kisuke, zangetsu, zaraki kenpachi|
Prompts 01, 53, 23, 49 [bleach]
All of these are UraharaxIchigo; nothing explicit at this point in time.
Title: 01. Introduction
It was raining--that was the first thing that registered to his senses. It wasn't the feel of a ran that had seemingly gone on forever, but teh scent of other things was behind the sad, clean scent of the rain.
As was a presence.
Opening heavy eyelids, he peered into an impassive face framed by wild brown hair. A tattered black coat was valiantly attempting to protect his observer from teh rain; it streaked in rivulets down his yellowish sunglasses.
Then it struck him.
He knew this person, had always known this person as assuredly as he knew himself.
"I know you," he muttered. He was so tired.
The old man just narrowed his eyes at him, considering something.
"You shouldn't be awake yet," his deep voice finally ground out.
"Heh," he managed with a smirk. It was like the dude could read his mind. "Five more minutes."
The man continued to stare at him.
Cracking an eye open--when had it closed?--he glared at the coated man. "Don'cha know it's rude ta stare?"
The man continued to gaze at him, undeterred by the rude statement, before finally saying, "follow me."
"Because sleeping in the rain will get you sick," he simply replied, "and I don't know when it's going to stop."
He got the impression of long suffering--of sadness.
"Sounds good; ground wasn't comfy anyway," he replied, standing up and wiping imaginary dust off his light coloured clothes. The man smirked as he headed towards the many sideways buildings.
Title: Keeping a Secret
Ichigo gazed wistfully out the window at teh spring rain. Zangetsu was happy, well, as happy as his surly sword could be. According to him, there had been a distinct lack of precipitation in his inner world--which also made his Hollow happy. Shirochi had only experienced a rainstorm once, but it was enough to make the Hollow hate that specific weather condition.
And yet, he knew as he looked out the window that he didn't much care for teh rain either; rain never brought anything good with it. His mother had died, Rukia had been taken, he had been stripped of his shinigami powers...
Ichigo was sure there was more, but whatever had been in the tea Urahara had served him was still thick in his blood, making his thoughts slow and life pretty good; putting the usually surly youth in a reflective mood. About his actions, live, shinigami status, and soul occupants.
If he was honest with himself, which Ichigo never spent inordinate amounts of time reflecting and agonizing over past actions--that was Urahara's department--he mighttell you about a dream he had until teh bruises from The Accident faded; a dream where he wore white and hunted down what killed his mother with the cold, calculating gold eyes of a predator.
Funny, now that he thought about it, that week and a half, no ghosts or spirits had bothered him when he traversed Karakura Town.
If he thought about it...
But the orange haired youth shook his head.
That was his secret.
"You know," Ichigo huffed as he parried another attack by the Noble. "Curiosity killed the cat."
He heard Urahara choke on his laughter as brown eyes watched yellow narrow.
...Dammit! She was planning something.
Eyes widening in realization, Ichigo had just enough time to jump back and put his hand over his face as Yoruichi's reiatsu exploded. His soon followed.
Ichigo was unaware that sharp grey-green eyes followed his every move, or tat Yoruichi's attacks ere precise and for a reason. It was when Ichigo, frustrated with the limited peripheral vision his mask provided, shoved it to the side of his head before shouting, "Bankai!"
His black daitou met Yoruichi's before he disappeared again. The two elite warriors battled on for some time before the snap of a fan brought their attention to Urahara; swords locked.
"I think we achieved our goal, Yoruichi."
"Indeed." She smirked.
It took Ichigo a moment to realize what they were talking about, but when he did, a hand reached up to the mask on the side of his head. Gold eyes examined it before breaking it on the ground, darkness bleeding out of his eyes as if it had never been.
"Kurosaki-kun," Yoruichi beckoned.
Tired, Ichigo turned to the Shihouin. A devilish smirk graced her countenance.
"Satisfaction brought it back."
A scowl appeared on his face.
It started with three stripes; three seemingly insignificant red stripes. What Urahara suspected, Ichigo wasn't sure but when the shopkeeper had seen his mask the first time something had started working behind his eyes deep in his mind. Ichigo had let it go because, at the time, he had to save Rukia.
Three high ranking shinigami defeated--Kenpachi, Byakuya, Renji.
Stripes went from three to five, the Hollows became more aggressive. His own inner Hollow fought him for dominance, inadvertently--maybe unknowingly but you could never tell with him--helping him even as he crippled Ichigo for a short time.
Stripes went from five to nine. Now when Hollows found him, they either ran away or fought; his potential reiatsu forcing them into the fight or flight survival instinct. Only the occasional Menos Grande thought to fight him and the even rarer, but more common for him, Arrancar. He probably met more of those Hollows than most shinigami combined.
Stripes in nature were used as camouflage.
Stripes, when in need of information, came from a whip.
Ichigo couldn't help but yell as the Espada's whip bit into his back again. Where was his team?
"There ya go-ah!" the Espada with the whip proclaimed. "Nine stripes on ya back ta match the ones on yer face!"
Ichigo groaned. His back was on fire...
A commotion--a strangled gasp--and the power that was holding him fast dissipated in black smoke. He collapsed into the rough grass and sand. Was someone calling his name?
Opening bleary eyes, all his vision could see were stripes. Fingers snapped in front of his eyes, catching his attention. His pain filled gaze caught the concerned grey-green eyes of the one examining him. His eyes drifted back up to the stripes above the eyes...
Eyes snapped back to green. He shuddered; he was so tired...
"Stay with me, Ichigo."
There was something else, something in that statement that made the orange haired youth return his attention to the green-striped shinigami. "Will...try," Ichigo managed to breathe. "Tired..."
When Ichigo was next aware of his surroundings, he recognized the interior of a room in Urahara's shop. A multitude of small stripes indicated it was either very early or very late. He realized he was laying on his stomach when a shoji door opened. Brown eyes met slate-green.
"I wasn't expecting you to be awake yet," the shopkeeper informed his patient.
The other man frowned. "You don't remember?"
"I was on a reconnaissance team..." Ichigo frowned. "We ran into some Hollows...I got separated...I think there was an Espada...Arrancar...something..." Ichigo scowled. Dammit! Why couldn't he remember?
"Don't push yourself, Kurosaki-kun," Urahara carefully said. Ichigo's eyes snapped to the man. He vaguely remembered something--someone--calling his name. "You hit your head pretty hard when you were released from the Arrancar's binding spell."
Ichigo frowned. He whacked his head?
But the youth's hiss of pain cut off the warning. Urahara was at his side and gently moving his arm back to where it had been.
"The fuck?" Ichigo spat.
"The Espada whipped you pretty good," Urahara carefully explained. "Hanatarou did what he could, and he's one of the most skilled in Fourth Division when it comes to you, but he couldn't do much, and neither could Unohana when she tried her hand. The most that they could do was remove the poison and prevent it from doing more damage than it had already done."
"Whipped?" Ichigo echoed. A laughing face with pink eyes and matching hair came to the forefront of his mind. "...ta match the ones on yer face!"
"How," Ichigo swallowed. "How many times?"
Urahara gave him a searching look before finally answering. "You have nine stripes on your back; almost the same colour as the ones on your mask. Due to the poison, Unohana thinks that they'll scar purple and be a bit more sensitive than most freshly healed tissue."
"Kon's been taking it to school and playing with your sisters," Urahara updated the youth. "Karin wants to know what's up with you."
Ichigo swore. He knew Karin would figure it out, but why couldn't she do it at a better time?
"Not to rush you, but she is in the other room with Kon," Urahara informed him with a small smile. "Kon's worried about you as well."
Ichigo's harsh look softened at the mention of the modsoul. Despite all their arguing, the two of them were really close. When Ichigo just couldn't deal with life, he popped Kon into his mouth and took off across town to kill a few Hollows. He sighed. Ichigo didn't want to deal with anything right now, though. His buggered attempt at movement made his back ache which sent pins and needles--along with an unpleasant burning sensation--down his back and arms.
"I'll see them later," Ichigo grumbled as a spasm of pain rippled down his spine. Fuck, could he feel every shredded piece of flesh on his back.
Taking stock of his pain, he didn't notice Urahara's calculating gaze on him. "You're still in pain."
Ichigo turned a weak glare on the blond shopkeeper. Urahara smiled at him. "I'll be right back."
Ichigo didn't question him as he got up and left the room. He barely registered softly spoken words, some swearing, before Urahara was back. Ichigo had closed his eyes and reveled in the soft sheets and pillows. These had definitely come from Fourth; nothing he had slept on in the shop had been this soft and comfortable. He didn't even mind when cool hands began fiddling with something on his back. He did, however, start to care when said soothing coolness began to rip and tear something from his back. He, Kurosaki Ichigo, wouldn't yell or voice his pain.
He couldn't help the strangled growl that escaped his clenched teeth.
"Sorry, but your wounds have bled through your bandages and they need changing. Try to relax as much as possible and it'll hurt less."
"You damn well try to relax when someone's ripping your skin off!" Ichigo ground out as Urahara, as carefully as possible, extricated the soiled bandages from the wounds. Ichigo's tan skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The youth groaned in appreciation when something wet and cool was smeared liberally on his back, the soothing sensation made Ichigo sigh in relief and sink into the mattress.
"So how long am I here?" Ichigo's muffled voice asked. He couldn't bring himself to move. It just felt soooooo good.
"When Unohana deems you well enough," Urahara replied, braced for the outburst of anger that usually followed that statement. It never came. Curious, as was his wont, Urahara looked at what was visible of Ichigo's face. The boy was sleeping with a stupid grin plastered to his face; one of the few he'd ever seen on the youth's face.
Perhaps taking care of him wouldn't be so bad if he looked so peaceful sleeping.