|faicinn_rocais (faicinn_rocais) wrote,|
@ 2008-12-21 00:23:00
|Current location:||Central NY State|
|Current music:||Sports Center|
|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 11, 37, 86, 48
UraharaxIchigo. Nothing super explicit.
Nothing is edited either. It's late and I'll do it later.
He was running down a corridor, Zangetsu in his hand. Blood covered the walls, spattering the floor and the ceiling. He had to hurry up!
He burst through the mostly intact doors at the end of the hall--Zangetsu's scream enough to warn him of the enemies he now faced. It was a battle in fast-forward; blades a blur as they screamed and clashed against each other. Warmth--a biting hotness--made itself known here and there but he ignored it; he didn't have time for it!
He didn't have for this!
He couldn't smell the fear, taste it even, as he drew the mask into existence. The Hollows he were battling hesitated--who wouldn't when faced with his power?--which was all he needed. Neatly cleaving each Hollow in half, he choked as he felt the binding spells connect with his person; the fear-scent overpoweringly strong. Hands appeared from seemingly nowhere to hold him down, not that it was necessary.
"Kurosaki Ichigo." The voice stilled his movements. Into his line of sight walked Aizen Sousuke. Ichigo couldn't help the uttered growl.
"Now, let's talk like civilized people here," the exCaptain proclaimed with a smile. "None of that now."
Ichigo furiously rubbed the side of his head against the floor until his mask was on the side of his head. "What's there to talk about?" the boy's rougher, slightly deeper voice replied. "I have nothing to say to you!"
"I beg to differ," Aizen replied as he waved his hand negligently over his shoulder. Ichigo pushed with his reiatsu, but the spell held firm.
"I don't think you'll be able to get out of that spell as easily as you have the other," Aizen replied as the fear-scent thickened. "IT was designed to keep spitfire Espada."
Ichigo knew he wasn't an Espada...Arrancar...whatever...but the fact that he couldn't throw the spell easily made him worried.
When Karin came into view, closely followed by Yuzu, Ichigo knew true, bone deep fear for the first time.
"Let them GO!" He shouted, gold predatory eyes fixed on Aizen.
"I'm afraid I can't do that," was the exCaptain's calm reply. "You see, since you killed so many that were close to me, I figured I might as well return the favour."
"Ichi-nii!" His sister's called out.
"How sweet," Aizen said as he drew his sword.
"No! Aizen! Don't do it!" Ichigo's fear filled eyes glowed an eerie silver. "Bankai!"
Just as Aizen's sword was going to skewe defiant, if scared, purple eyes, chaos erupted; heralded by the sound of twisting metal and shattering glass. Where the exCaptain had expected to see blood, his vision was filled with black instead, sword sheathed to the hilt in it.
It was the last thing that Aizen Sousuke ever did.
With an inhuman roar, Ichigo whirled around, cutting the blade our of his body, Zangetsu whistling. Metal screamed as it was just barely blocked. A white and purple tail came out of nowhere to grab Aizen around his waist; a red Cero eerily illuminating the room. In a last ditch effort, the exCaptain thrust his sword forward as the Cero obliterated his existence...
Cold water barely touched his skin before his reiatsu evaporated it; the almost instantaneous steam making it quite humid and hard to breathe.
Where was he?
Gold eyes that should never be anything but assured in themselves looked about in panic and fear as a hand darted to a partially healed wound on his chest.
His name. yes. Spoken sifter than last time. Yes. He was Ichigo; Kurosaki Ichigo. Gold eyes finally found the one who had woken him up.
"Urahara?" he queried, uncertain. "Kisuke?"
"Your mask, as well as your bankai, are unnecessary, Ichigo," The shopkeeper gently pointed out. "You're safe."
Gold eyes glanced about warily only to confirm he was, indeed, in "his" room at Urahara's place. Urahara didn't even flinch as his hollow mask shattered against the wall much too close for comfort by normal people's standards. The gold darkened to brown as the darkness bled out of his sclera. Ichigo's reiatsu returned to it's normal levels as the youth curled in on himself.
"Ichigo?" Urahara queried as the scent of blood reached his nose.
"Ripped something," Ichigo muttered through gritted teeth.
Urahara carefully made his way into the room that was tainted with hollow reiatsu. When Urahara had first brought him heere, unconscious, in the mask, the Hollow--Urahara suspected Zangetsu might also have had something to do about it--hadn't let anyone in but Kon and himself.
When the shopkeeper's hands gently touched Ichigo to get him to uncurl, they both ignored the involuntary flinch; during teh war--especially near the end--Aizen's troops took to restraining Ichigo and attempting to slaughter the team he was on. It had worked for a while until Ichigo started shattering the spells and shaking them off before they could contain him like a dog does water.
Gently exposing Ichigo's stomach, the heavy bandaging that was mirrored on his back was red and pink in some places; the ones on his back was probably worse. If he was in Fourth, he'd be restrained and sedated. His Hollow must have known this.
Whispers reached the blond man's ears; whisper that he was sure weren't mean tfor him. Carefully changing the orange-haired youth's bandages, Urahara paid careful attention to teh whispers as he cleaned up...
"Just a dream. Just a dream. You saved them. Just a dream..."
Urahara's eyes were sad. HE had caught up to Ichigo to see Aizen fall to pieces and Ichigo to fall with a sword through him. It wasn't something he wanted to see ever again.
Carefully, he didn't want to set the youth off and get scratches across his face, he enveloped Ichigo in a hug. Ichigo tensed at first, reiatsu horribly pained and confused, before he gave a mental 'fuck it' and gripped Urahara tightly; drawing the shopkeeper partially onto his futon. He gripped Urahara as if hes life depended on it and his Hollow could bite him for all the weakness he was showing. He didn't give a rat's ass.
Besides--half the reason he was awake was because his hollow was resting.
"It was just a drea," Urahara softly said. "You won; you were strong enough. It was just a dream, Ichigo."
Ichigo just stayed as he was, head buried in Urahara's chest, hands fisted in the ever present green robe.
The sigh and dark tang of reiatsu heralded when Ichigo fell asleep. As the shopkeeper extricated himself from Ichigo's strong grip, he heard the whisper of his mask forming, the Hollow coming to the fore to heal the body they shared. Urahara gasped as a cold, gold gaze captured his own. There was nothing of Ichigo in their molten depths; neither was he in the rough voice that spoke softly from behind the mask.
"Ya should be here when the King wakes up."
The hollow before him shifted uncomfortably, winced, and settled before speaking again.
"Ya make the rain go away," it muttered. "And the shards ain't as sharp when yer 'round."
"...I see." Urahara replied as he got off the bed. The Hollow said nothing, just watched him stand before rolling over and ignoring him. Ichigo should be able to put his memories to rest--they shouldn't haunt him as he slept.
"About how long until he wakes up again?" Urahara asked. "He needs to eat something.."
"Five or seven hours...maybe eight," the hollow replied offhandedly. "Yeah, plan for eight."
Teh shopkeeper nodded before leaving. Eight hours would be about hte time he went to bed, as he slpet veritably all day on Sundays. What a weekend this was shaping up to be! Something told him it was going to be well remembered.
Eyes, as the saying goes, are windows to the soul. Ichigo was sure that worked perfectly well for normal humans, but those like him whose soul had a dual nature...on one hand he was a normal surly youth, badass shinigami substitute on the side, with knowledgeable brown eyes with a depth to them that spoke of seeing too much.
On the other hand, he had a compassionless gold eyes; eyes that freeze you in place when they're focused on you. Predatory eyes that gauge and assess you in a heart beats.
He was human...
...he was a monster.
When it got bad he hid behind his mask and killed the Hollows stupid enough to wander into Karakura Town, telling his questioning friends that he was fine.
Green eyes, however, had played that game for centuries. Urahara could read Ichigo as well as most educated people could read a book. Most thought that Ichigo was working part-time at the odd shop that sold the best candy. Those who knew him--and knew what he'd gone through in Seireitei and Hueco Mundo--thought he escaped there, waiting until he graduated an d escaping the sudden spotlight his father had on him.
Ichigo went there because he was understood. Urahara never questioned him or urged him to talk; he just gave him somewhere where he could be himself...where he could think--or fight depending on his mood.
If he ended up sneaking in his window or sending Kon home in his stead were overlooked as were the increasingly angry arguments with his father.
Ichigo didn't care.
Anyone who bothered to look in his eyes could see that.
Title: Seeing Red