Current location:	Central NY State
Current mood:	tired
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.


Title: Memory
Words: 1,306

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!

Almost there...

Almost there...

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!"

"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...

"Ichigo!"

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.

"Ichigo."

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.

"Dammit!"

"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."

"Why?"

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.




Title: Eyes
Words: 276

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...

...and yet...

...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
Words: 452

WARNING: for anyone who's squicky on yaoi-ness of any kind, there's a kiss at the end.

Urahara Kisuke was not a man quick to anger. Quite the opposite really; with the amount of patience and reticence the man had many wondered what, if anything, could move the man to anger.

Ishida owed Chad fifty dollars.

When Urahara came out of the back to see the door to his infirmary open, he didn't really think much of it. Perhaps Jinta--in his growth spurt--had cut himself again and needed a band aide. It was when he heard familiar cursing--swearing that had only left a few hours before--emanate from within.

"Goddamn old goat..."

"Ichigo?" Urahara confusedly inquired.

"Shit."

Urahara entered, flicking on the lights as he did so. Ichigo flinched, and Urahara's easy going demeanor vanished. One of Ichigo's eyes was nearly swollen shut, the bruise disappearing into his hairline. Ichigo always had bruises on him, but this was a little excessive. Plus, with the way he was holding his hand, several of the delicate bones, not to mention a few fingers had to be broken.

"Let me do that," Urahara said as he took the swab liberally coated in antiseptic from the youth's hand. Ichigo didn't exactly flinch--tense maybe--but Urahara didn't like the reaction. Ichigo was already high strung; always ready to fight and defend. Just coming out of a fight...

Ichigo shuddered as the antiseptic finally washed away the excess blood Urahara was able to see the actual wound. The gash went from just above his temple, across his eyebrow and down the side of his left eye.

"You should probably have a few stitches," Urahara advised as he examined Ichigo's forehead more closely. Yup, definitely stitches...five at least. As the shop keeper began his stitching, listening to Ichigo mutter darkly, Urahara found himself doing something he said he wouldn't.

"Ichigo," Urahara began, unsure how to broach the subject.

"It doesn't matter," the youth stiffly replied.

The look Urahara sent Ichigo clearly stated that it did. Ichigo just glared back at him..

"How come your Hollow hasn't healed this?" Urahara inquired. For, despite the severity, it was a minor wound in Ichigo's books . Said substitute shrugged.

"The old goat did something..." was all Ichigo managed before he winced; Urahara having pulled a stitch too tight.

"Sorry."

Ichigo grunted.

"Ururu cleaned your room for you if your interested."

Ichigo smiled. His hollow liked Urahara's quiet assistant.

Ichigo seeing that URahara was planning various ways to kill his father, reached up, grabbed blond side burns and pulled the man down for a kiss.

"Please don't kill that which spawned me," Ichigo asked between kisses. "It doesn't know better."

Urahara surmised that, for now, he'd do nothing...

...but heaven help anyone who repeated the process.




Title: Childhood
Words: 457

Childhood is a time of one's life where parent's have children and raise them to be able to take care of themselves in the world. They are nurtured. Tehy are loved. Children are dear and should be treated as such.

Should

Some children, hoever, miss out on this. Others, the lucky ones, get taken from "unhealthy" environments and placed in better homes. No child should live like that...

...even if it's in the name of training.

Ichigo endures the terror his father becomes after his mother dies. It was peaceful for a week or two before the old goat started ambushing Ichigo in the name of "training" and preparing him for the real world. He never quite understood why his father felt the need to do this. When he was younger, the bruises could be explained through a rambunctious child. As he got older, the excuse was sports, but most soon found out his father implemented a seven o'clock curfew.

That got him a reputation as a rebel. The orange hair was his flamboyant genetics gifted him with hindered more than helped him avoid fights Teh only good his life had prepared him for was the fights that chased him through junior high. Kicking ass and getting it handed to you day in and day out became Ichigo's after school activity.

Eventually, in his dirge of skirmishes, he got a friend out of the mix; a person who was just as misunderstood as he was. Even though when they walked home and Ichigo greeted the stray spirits that followed him, sought him out--that he protected--Chad, as the fierce carrot top insisted on calling him, just waited for him to give greetings here, right an offering there; it was just what they did.

In hindsight, one had to wonder if Isshin would know his son would partake in life or death battles that decided the fate of the Living World. Again, if one looked carefully beneath teh masks the man wore, when Ichigo was the topic, the man's eyes were hard. Ichigo had too much of his mother in him; the set of the jaw--if slightly more stubborn, her high cheek bones, her brown eyes--the colour darker than her own; brown eyes ran in her side of the family. Ichigo's spiritual powers, plus some genetics from both sides gave him great hair.

But Isshin had given his immortal heart to a human, and something in that heart couldn't fogive his son for coming back when his soul mate did not.

Urahara saw all this, from the occasional talks wit random ghosts to the multicoloured bruises that littered the boy's hide. Ichigo said nothing, scowl ever present on his face. Urahara just bandaged him up.





"This cruel, uncaring, callous world may betray you all one day, but here's one thing to keep in mind should disaster come your way;
When made with love and tender care by man or beast or fish or clam, the one delight to always please is freshly made raspberry jam." J:KoB; book 4

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