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Mar. 14th, 2010 07:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
queenofchalicesTitle: The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 12 - The Second Seal
Series: Bleach
Rating: R
Warnings: AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST
Spoilers: This is AU. We don't need spoilers, where we're going.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. The LiveJournal format that you'll probably be reading this in (if you're one of my friends) is rough draft and is subject to revision. Consider this a 'sneak peek'. If something sits the wrong way with you, let me know. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.
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Large red eyes flittered back and forth, following the dark shapes moving throughout the room. The shadows cast by those monsters moved against the dark walls, contorting and transforming as though they were being cast by firelight. And in a way, they were.
The little pink-haired girl watched with undisguised interest as the swords clashed and banged against one another. Both her adoptive father and Urahara's delivery boy looked like they were having fun. They smiled like old friends engaged in a particularly stimulating conversation on the weather as they hacked and slashed at each other, their blood making pretty patterns on the walls and floors. And like the two men dancing across the room, the girl in question was also enjoying the fight.
Her name was Yachiru, and like the others in this house, she loved a good fight, whether she was just watching or participating herself. Unfortunately for her, she was also too young just yet to have had many opportunities to test herself against an opponent. That didn't keep her from enjoying watching from the sidelines, though.
For as long as she could remember, she'd been watching Zaraki Kenpachi fight. Sometimes he would fight strong opponents and sometimes he would fight weak ones. The weak ones were never any fun; he didn't enjoy them and neither did she. The fights were over too soon and nothing interesting happened in them. Sometimes he and Ikkaku would fight just to have something to do, but the result was always the same, so they didn't do it as much anymore. It had lost its luster.
Even though they fought sometimes, Yachiru knew that Ikkaku and Yumichika were as loyal to her father as any two men could be. They even had the scars on their necks to prove it, just like samurai! And one day, after she could wear a limiter, Yachiru would have one of those, too. She was determined that her father would give her one of her own.
For the moment, though, she could enjoy watching these two go at it. At first she'd thought the delivery boy was going to be just another boring opponent that fell down after one hit. But something had happened - almost like Kenpachi had broken something when he stabbed him - that made him get back up and fight even better and harder. Now this fight was really interesting! Of course, she already knew the outcome - no one could beat her father - but that didn't mean it wouldn't be fun to watch the delivery boy try anyway!
So far, since he'd gotten back up, they seemed to be on equal footing. Before, the redhead hadn't been able to even scratch Kenpachi with his puny little sword. But now they were gleefully cutting each other all over. None of the wounds were very deep or serious just yet - they weren't enough to make either one of them fall down and not get back up - but there was still plenty of blood flying around to make things interesting.
Even better, every time each one of them got cut, they would just grin even bigger and dive right back into the battle, blade swinging. Their joy was infectious, spilling over to Yachiru, who bounced just a bit as she watched them push back and forth with their swords. They were having fun, and that made her glad to watch.
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Orihime stared at the last little bit of ice cream in the bottom of her cone. She turned it this way and that, nervously mulling over the prospect of finally finishing off the last of it.
It wasn't that she didn't want to eat the last of it; oh no, the ice cream itself was amazing! Rangiku was right that this ice cream was the best in town. But the ice cream wasn't responsible for the nagging, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. No, her stomach was doing flip-flops on its own.
Maybe it was the feeling she'd gotten at that house. It had felt like something cold and powerful had lived inside, enough to make her feel like it was the middle of winter as she stood outside. It felt just like the inside of Kuchiki Manor, but it was able to touch her all the way out on the sidewalk. Obviously there was a powerful demon (or demons) inside, but that didn't explain her sense of foreboding.
No, ever since they'd arrived at that house, she'd felt as though something terrible was going to happen. And even though she couldn't be sure, she felt that this particular something terrible was going to happen to Ichigo specifically. A chill walked itself down her spine just thinking about it. She knew she wasn't good for much if he were to get into a fight, but she could at least try to shield him if she was with him.
"Inoue?"
Orihime looked up, slack-jawed, to see Rukia's concerned face focused on hers. She immediately straightened up, her concentration brought back to the girls sitting at her table, who just so happened to be staring directly at her.
"Umm, y-yes, Kuchiki-san?" Orihime plastered a broad grin on her face and tried to appear as unaffected as ever. It wouldn't do to make the others worry if they didn't need to; all this fretting was probably just her overactive imagination at work again.
"It's about time to go pick the others up," Rukia said gently, "Are you ready?" Orihime gave her a sheepish chuckle and scratched the back of her head.
"U-Uhn!" she answered in the affirmative, "Just let me get this other bite and I'll be all ready!" She took a deep breath and finished off the ice cream cone, licking each of her fingers in turn while Rangiku and Rukia looked on.
"Alright!" Rangiku chirped, clapping her hands together as Orihime finished up, "It's time to get going! Let's go grab the boys and get back to Wrath House!" Orihime thought her voice sounded a bit strained and maybe a bit like she was forcing herself there.
All three rose and headed back to Shuuhei's hatchback, a strange, uncomfortable silence lingering between them. They all seemed lost in their own thoughts, causing Orihime to fidget and chew her bottom lip. They were all friends, though, right? If she felt uncomfortable, she could tell them, couldn't she?
"Ano," she finally ventured, "That house... I... I really am worried about them..." Rukia raised an eyebrow, but otherwise both she and Rangiku kept looking forward.
"No, you are right to worry," Rukia said softly, "I have similar misgivings myself." Her voice was grave, but it comforted Orihime at the same time.
"The boys have been training hard," Rangiku said, her voice serious for once, "And Renji is your brother's second-in-command. Shuuhei's our Master-at-Arms, so we should have faith in them. But..." They opened the doors and got back into the car, situating themselves and buckling up. If anything, Orihime's apprehension was growing. What would they find when they arrived back at the run-down house?
"There was something really bad in there," Orihime quietly finished for Rangiku. The blonde's eyelashes fanned down to her cheeks as she turned the ignition, causing the car to grumble to life.
"Exactly."
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Chad was just about at the end of his rope.
Sweat poured from his forehead, running in rivulets down his face. He was crouching, one knee on the ground and the other supporting his elbow, his other fist planted against the hardwood floor. Through heavy breaths and sweat-soaked bangs, he watched his opponent. Even though he was kneeling, his head was up and proud, refusing to bow in submission.
As for the bald man, he was twirling his naginata at a leisurely pace, grinning as though he was a kid in a candy shop. Chad watched the pike twirl; although he was exhausted, he could still follow it and track its movements. Ikkaku was tricky, though. Quite a few times already, Chad had expected him to strike in one area, only to be fooled and left throwing himself at thin air. In that second of imbalance, Ikkaku would strike; it was never anything terribly painful, but Chad couldn't help but feel like he was being toyed with. Otherwise, the bald man would've used one of those many opportunities to finish him off by now.
That didn't mean Ikkaku had taken no damage so far. On the contrary, Chad had dealt him quite a few body blows and was sure he'd broken at least one rib. Regardless, the other man hadn't been deterred in the least; in fact, he seemed to be enjoying this bout even more whenever Chad landed a blow. It even occurred to him that his opponent might be a masochist of some sort, but the idea was quickly dismissed. No, he was enjoying the fight as a whole, not just when he took damage.
As the blade of the spear swung towards him and Chad jumped to his feet, he began to feel as though he might not have been ready for this fight after all. Still, he was still standing and that was reason to hope, wasn't it?
The naginata glanced off the shield on his left arm, drawing blood, but not enough to be a cause of concern. There was no way Chad would give up because of a beating like this; he knew he was sturdy and he had to keep this guy busy long enough to Ichigo to finish his business.
Before both opponents could charge back towards one another again, the front door of the house burst open, carrying a sharp bang back to Chad, Ikkaku, and Renji's ears. And before any of them could process exactly who the newcomers might be, a small foot met Renji's ears as well.
"What is the meaning of this?!" An irate Rukia bellowed. As Renji clutched his poor, abused ear, two female figures darted further into the house. Chad recognized them as Rangiku and Orihime, his eyebrows rising at their frantic pace.
"Wow, someone's whipped," Ikkaku commented with a grin. Chad looked in Renji's direction to see what he was talking about. Sure enough, his little mentor had her superior by the same ear she'd just finished kicking, shaking his head furiously.
"Oww, Rukia!" Renji protested, nearly in a whine, "It's just a little spar! Besides, I thought I told you not to come in here!" Rukia ignored his protests, shaking his ear harder for his trouble.
"Where is Ichigo? Can you not feel that?" Chad took a second to see what she meant; sure enough, there was a monstrous presence coming from deeper inside the house. In the heat of battle, he had missed it.
"Oh, that's just Zaraki-taichou," Ikkaku said dismissively. He sat cross-legged on the floor with a 'plop', clearly bored with Renji and Rukia's little tiff.
"What do you mean?" Rukia asked, watching the bald man act as though he could hear some far-off sound.
"Sounds like he's havin' a good time," Ikkaku said with a lopsided grin.
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As he stared up at the dimly lit ceiling, chest heaving from exertion, Shuuhei realized that he had made a gross miscalculation.
To begin with, he hadn't gone into battle fully prepared. It had been several days since he had been at full strength, his reserves of energy slowly dwindling between 'feedings'. He figured it must be nice to be a Wraith or a Leavite - their power could feed on itself in a fight, allowing the lucky demon to become exponentially more powerful as they fought. Like his opponent, for example.
That was the second place he went wrong. He had failed to recognize Yumichika for what he was. It hadn't occurred to him until the slender man had put him on the floor that he was one of those lucky demons that could recharge themselves in battle. And considering Shuuhei had no real way to do that in this situation, the outcome of that battle wasn't in much doubt.
The sound of footsteps yanked Shuuhei out of his stormy thoughts. Just from the sound and frequency, he could tell it was Rangiku and one of the younger girls, most likely Orihime. Just to be sure, he lifted his head from the hardwood floor and peered down the poorly-lit hallway. Sure enough, there were the two girls, running toward him.
"Orihime-chan, you run on ahead," Rangiku said firmly, "I'll take care of this." A light blush dusted Shuuhei's tattooed nose as he noticed Orihime's confused expression.
"You can heal wounds?" She asked innocently. Rangiku gave her a wink and shooed her on her way.
"In a manner of speaking!" She replied, causing the younger girl to merely cock her head in curiosity. "But never mind that! Ichigo probably needs your help! Hurry up and go to him!" Shuuhei watched the redhead stiffen, a look of fright suddenly painting her face. Then, with a firm nod, she continued in the direction they'd been running, leaving Shuuhei to Rangiku's tender mercies.
"I swear," she sighed, fixing him with a stern look as she began to unbutton her top, "You're hopeless without me." Even though he was being scolded, Shuuhei still managed to smile.
"It's just because you starve me," he teased, earning a kick to the side for his trouble.
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Orihime ran as fast as she could towards what she was sure was the fight in which Ichigo was currently embroiled. As she got closer, she could even begin to hear it; there was the clang of metal, and here was a battle cry. Yes, they were this way, Ichigo and his opponent, the man the bald-headed man out front had called Zaraki-taichou.
The other thing Orihime noticed as she got closer was the overwhelming nausea she was beginning to experience. Not just that, but her entire body was beginning to go cold. Soon, her pace couldn't even be called a run anymore; she was leaning heavily against the walls, teeth chattering and cold sweat soaking her brow. Even though her entire body was revolting against her, though, she couldn't stop and she couldn't give up. Ichigo was relying on her.
As she neared the door the power was flowing like water through, she almost threw up the ice cream she'd just eaten. Horrible visions of what could be happening to Ichigo just on the other side swirled through her head, causing her to sway on her feet. Every fiber of her being was telling her to run the other way and leave this cursed house. It was worse than the feeling she'd had in Kuchiki manor, worse by several orders of magnitude.
Instead of obeying her instincts, however, she reached one trembling hand towards the door, prepared to slide it back.
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Ichigo was grinning ear to ear. Even as scratched and beaten as he was, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this alive.
Kenpachi was giving him one hell of a hard time, but he found that he was enjoying it. He was reaching toward his limits, stretching his power like an unused muscle. Was this what it was like for the taller, scarred demon? If it was, there was no wonder he was wearing such a homicidal smile.
This was the joy of battle, the challenge of fighting an opponent that outclassed him both in strength and experience. This wasn't like fighting those punks in the alley or like getting ambushed by Renji. It wasn't even like sparring with Rukia or Chad or even Urahara himself. This, Ichigo realized, was what it really meant to be a Wraith.
With a shout of glee, he launched himself toward Kenpachi, sword leveled for another attack. As he was repelled, feet skidding across the polished wooden floor, he heard the door slide open with a snap.
"Ku-Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime's frightened voice reached his ears, causing his head to snap around to see her standing in the doorway.
A million thoughts ran through Ichigo's head as his blood suddenly ran cold. Why was she here? Where were Rukia and Rangiku? He even noticed her nauseous countenance and pallid color. Was she sick? Before he could ask her any of this, though, he saw a look of horror paint her pale face.
"Kurosaki-kun, watch out!"
"Dropped your guard!"
Several things happened in quick succession. Ichigo turned his head just in time to see Kenpachi lunge for him, his scarred and pitted blade aimed directly for his heart. As he raised his own blade to block the blow, though, a rusty orange blur passed in front of his face, arms outstretched as if to shield him with their empty span. Then he heard a shrill 'No!', followed by a wet crunch and a sharp pain in his chest. Finally, he looked up to see Kenpachi's face, the look of triumph melting into one of shock, and then horror.
Ichigo saw all of this, almost as if it were in slow-motion. The sickening realization of what had happened hit him after a few seconds, after his brain had time to catch up with his eyes. Orihime had taken the blow meant for him.
Kenpachi withdrew his sword, the metal sliding out of the twin wounds with a slick slurping sound. Ichigo ignored his own wound; it wasn't very deep at all. The sword hadn't even reached his breastbone, and if it wasn't for the odd burning sensation he felt around it, it would be just like his other cuts. Instead, he was more focused on catching Orihime as she slumped to the floor. As his arms wrapped around her limp body, he could see her pain-stricken face, the half-lidded eyes looking at him regretfully.
"I-I'm sorry, Kurosaki-kun," she whispered, a sickening gurgling noise bubbling up beneath her words, "I don't know how to... Use that shield right just yet..."
And then it hit him: the smell. That rich, red, spicy, sweet fragrance that threatened to rip his humanity out of his chest and pull the ground out from under his feet. This was worse than last time, far worse. He could feel his vision tinting red, casting the entire world in a hellish, unearthly light. This woman, even as she bled in his arms, the warmth and life quickly fleeing her body, she still held such strong sway over his senses that she was all he could see. Until he took notice of Kenpachi again.
This time, however, his mind barely registered who or what the taller man was. Ichigo neither had nor needed any memory of the other man now; he sensed all he needed to know of him. He was here to take his woman away.
That threat was the only thing that would convince Ichigo to relinquish his grip on the bloody girl in his arms now. He let her body slide down to the floor, retrieving his sword as he rose to a crouch. With a deep growl followed by a fierce snarl, he lunged toward Kenpachi, flying through the air with strength heretofore untapped.
Before he could connect, though, he felt a sharp pain in his back. A coolness began to seep out from the pinprick, causing Ichigo to fall out of the air in confusion. As he hit the floor and skidded, Ichigo twisted his head around to see who had hit him.
That bastard Urahara was standing in the doorway, along with Kon and two people Ichigo couldn't identify. One was a tall, dark-skinned woman with long black hair tied into a high ponytail; the other was a tall, thin man whose face and head were almost completely covered by his hood. It didn't matter to Ichigo, anyway; he wouldn't let any of them take Orihime away from him.
As he staggered back to his feet, though, the world began to tilt oddly beneath his feet. He struggled to keep his balance as the floor bucked and swayed, but it seemed like the harder he fought to stay upright, the more impossible it became. Finally unable to resist any longer, he fell back to the floor.
"Don't struggle, Kurosaki-san," he heard Urahara's distorted voice call, "You'll only make it harder on yourself!" Before he could even wonder what that meant, he felt himself falling unconscious.
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"Thank you for that, by the way. I hadn't been able to undo that pesky seal by myself."
"I doubt that."
"Come, come! This was a much easier way of doing it."
"I ain't arguin'. It was a pretty good time until..."
"Yes. When I heard he'd brought her with him, I came as fast as I could."
Ichigo laid staring at the ceiling for a good few minutes before it registered to him that he was listening in on someone else's conversation. As that realization dawned on him, he slowly began to sit up, groggily rubbing at his sandy eyes. His mouth was as dry as cotton and he felt bleary, like he was seeing the world through a filter.
Then he remembered - he'd been drugged, hadn't he? Stretching and flexing his hand in front of his face, he recalled the last things that had happened before he was knocked out. Orihime had been stabbed, her blood had been everywhere - that delicious, tempting blood. He'd lost his mind for a moment and had become utterly consumed by desire for it. That haze was gone now, he noted with no small measure of relief. He also noticed with a bit of suspicion that his inhibitor hadn't been replaced.
"Ah, he's coming to. Good morning, Kurosaki-san!"
Ichigo looked over to see the bastard that had sent him on that fool's errand in the first place. Of course, Urahara was fanning himself idly, green and white striped hat firmly in place. More surprising, though, was who was sitting beside him.
"What's he doing here?!" Ichigo barked, his voice rough from the disuse of sleep. Kenpachi favored him with a crooked smile as he leaned forward, one hand on his knee.
"Waiting to go another round when you're ready," the black-haired man growled.
"Not in my shop," Urahara quickly amended from behind his fan, "He's actually here to help settle the bills for Inoue-san's care." Kenpachi scratched his scarred cheek, glancing away.
"It's 'cause I missed, that's all," he grumbled.
Several emotions flooded through Ichigo. First there was relief to hear that Orihime was alright. Then there was anger, hot, stomach-clenching fury that she had even been put into harm's way. And then he wanted to punch the two men in front of him; it was their fault, after all, and here they were joking about it! In fact, Ichigo attempted to stand up to do just that, but was quickly floored again by another wave of dizziness.
"Easy, Kurosaki-san," Urahara said gently, "You'll still be groggy from the tranquilizer." Ichigo turned to glare at him instead.
"Where is she?" Ichigo asked, his anger and frustration palpable. The look on Urahara's face softened a bit at that inquiry.
"You won't be able to see her yet," he replied numbly. This was obviously not an answer Ichigo wanted to hear.
"Bullshit!" He yelled, trying and failing again to stand, "I want to see her! Now!" Urahara and Kenpachi seemed unfazed by his outburst, which made him even angrier. He wanted to shake them both until they responded in kind.
"He's got it bad," Kenpachi sniffed to no one in particular. Of course, this only made Ichigo want to hit him even more.
"This is as much for your protection as hers," Urahara explained, genuine regret tinging his voice, "Until you're fitted for a regulator, I'm afraid you're probably the biggest threat to her here."
"Regulator?" Ichigo asked, his voice tense, "Just give me my inhibitor! I'll put that on and go see her, dammit!"
"I'm afraid there's a problem!" Urahara responded, his fake cheerfulness firmly back in place. As he held up the remains of Ichigo's charred, broken inhibitor, Ichigo balked.
"What the hell happened to it?!" He yelled, "What did you do, you damn shady shopkeeper?!"
"You happened to it, Kurosaki-san," Urahara said, his voice growing more serious, "Like Zaraki-san here, you can no longer wear a simple inhibitor. When we tried to replace this one, your power completely fried it. I'll need to order you a more complicated regulator to make sure it can handle everything you throw at it."
Ichigo simply stared. That was how Kenpachi and the others had drawn weapons without taking off their inhibitors earlier?
"Don't look so down, kid," Kenpachi barked, "Wearing a regulator's a badge of honor for a Wraith." When Ichigo gave him a confused look, he continued as though he was explaining the simplest thing in the world.
"A regulator allows you to control how much of your power you use at any one time," he continued, "It also acts like a safety valve if you generate too much." Ichigo simply sat and stared, absorbing the information; he was too powerful for a regular inhibitor now?
"I see," he said softly, even though he didn't exactly feel like he fully understood, "And until I get one, I can't see Inoue because of her..." Urahara nodded his assent.
"Why do I keep reacting that way?!" Ichigo finally blurted out, "Is there something wrong with me?" Urahara shook his head slowly.
"It's not just you," Urahara corrected him, "It's any demon within scent range without a limiter of some sort on. Sado-san and Hisagi-san were also affected. That's also why I came with your familiars instead of any other demons." Ichigo once again favored him with a puzzled look.
"Familiars?" He asked, perplexed, "I only recognized Kon..." Just then, the door slid open and the dark-skinned woman from earlier strode in.
"Don't tell me you don't recognize me, kid," she said with a grin. The look on Ichigo's face told her he clearly didn't. "Sheesh, Kisuke," she said, her tone suddenly flat, "You really need to pick smarter pupils." Suddenly, it hit Ichigo.
"Y-Yoruichi-san?!" He squawked, jaw dropping, "I thought you were a guy!" A light blush dusted his cheeks - hadn't he undressed in front of her? The cat lady must have noticed, because her grin widened.
"I love that reaction!" she said before turning back to Urahara, “I just checked in on Inoue. She’s stable and beginning to heal nicely.” Ichigo’s demeanor calmed a bit; it comforted him to be reminded that she was alright again. Urahara and Kenpachi also seemed to be relieved, although the latter certainly didn't seem like he wanted anyone to notice.
"Well, isn't that wonderful news!" Urahara said suddenly, snapping his fan, "Kurosaki-san can stop worrying now!"
"Shut up," Ichigo mumbled, looking away.
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Outside, the pale crescent moon rose low above the skyline. It had barely cleared the roof of Urahara's shop before a shadow spread out to block it from a neighboring roof.
A pair of black wings, black and leathery, stretched beneath the starry sky. The pale creature they were attached to watched the shop with a great deal of interest. They hadn't noticed him in the hours he'd been there. That was a good thing. They were obviously busy and he was only here for reconnaissance anyway. And what information he had to relay!
He had seen the familiars bring the wounded girl in, green eyes following the activity as her bloodied form was carted into the shop. He recognized that scent; it was exactly as his master had told him it would be.
More than that, the one he was told was her protector was also out of commission. He was clearly injured when they brought him in, unconscious from either the damage he had taken or through some other means. This lent him the suspicion that the red-haired boy had come into contact with some of that girl's tainted blood. This was also valuable information, information his master would love dearly to have.
Standing straight up, his entire wingspan visible, the pale man suddenly shifted in the twinkle of an eye. In his place was a small black bat, wings beating furiously at the air as he headed east, into the moon.
Series: Bleach
Rating: R
Warnings: AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST
Spoilers: This is AU. We don't need spoilers, where we're going.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. The LiveJournal format that you'll probably be reading this in (if you're one of my friends) is rough draft and is subject to revision. Consider this a 'sneak peek'. If something sits the wrong way with you, let me know. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.
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Large red eyes flittered back and forth, following the dark shapes moving throughout the room. The shadows cast by those monsters moved against the dark walls, contorting and transforming as though they were being cast by firelight. And in a way, they were.
The little pink-haired girl watched with undisguised interest as the swords clashed and banged against one another. Both her adoptive father and Urahara's delivery boy looked like they were having fun. They smiled like old friends engaged in a particularly stimulating conversation on the weather as they hacked and slashed at each other, their blood making pretty patterns on the walls and floors. And like the two men dancing across the room, the girl in question was also enjoying the fight.
Her name was Yachiru, and like the others in this house, she loved a good fight, whether she was just watching or participating herself. Unfortunately for her, she was also too young just yet to have had many opportunities to test herself against an opponent. That didn't keep her from enjoying watching from the sidelines, though.
For as long as she could remember, she'd been watching Zaraki Kenpachi fight. Sometimes he would fight strong opponents and sometimes he would fight weak ones. The weak ones were never any fun; he didn't enjoy them and neither did she. The fights were over too soon and nothing interesting happened in them. Sometimes he and Ikkaku would fight just to have something to do, but the result was always the same, so they didn't do it as much anymore. It had lost its luster.
Even though they fought sometimes, Yachiru knew that Ikkaku and Yumichika were as loyal to her father as any two men could be. They even had the scars on their necks to prove it, just like samurai! And one day, after she could wear a limiter, Yachiru would have one of those, too. She was determined that her father would give her one of her own.
For the moment, though, she could enjoy watching these two go at it. At first she'd thought the delivery boy was going to be just another boring opponent that fell down after one hit. But something had happened - almost like Kenpachi had broken something when he stabbed him - that made him get back up and fight even better and harder. Now this fight was really interesting! Of course, she already knew the outcome - no one could beat her father - but that didn't mean it wouldn't be fun to watch the delivery boy try anyway!
So far, since he'd gotten back up, they seemed to be on equal footing. Before, the redhead hadn't been able to even scratch Kenpachi with his puny little sword. But now they were gleefully cutting each other all over. None of the wounds were very deep or serious just yet - they weren't enough to make either one of them fall down and not get back up - but there was still plenty of blood flying around to make things interesting.
Even better, every time each one of them got cut, they would just grin even bigger and dive right back into the battle, blade swinging. Their joy was infectious, spilling over to Yachiru, who bounced just a bit as she watched them push back and forth with their swords. They were having fun, and that made her glad to watch.
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Orihime stared at the last little bit of ice cream in the bottom of her cone. She turned it this way and that, nervously mulling over the prospect of finally finishing off the last of it.
It wasn't that she didn't want to eat the last of it; oh no, the ice cream itself was amazing! Rangiku was right that this ice cream was the best in town. But the ice cream wasn't responsible for the nagging, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. No, her stomach was doing flip-flops on its own.
Maybe it was the feeling she'd gotten at that house. It had felt like something cold and powerful had lived inside, enough to make her feel like it was the middle of winter as she stood outside. It felt just like the inside of Kuchiki Manor, but it was able to touch her all the way out on the sidewalk. Obviously there was a powerful demon (or demons) inside, but that didn't explain her sense of foreboding.
No, ever since they'd arrived at that house, she'd felt as though something terrible was going to happen. And even though she couldn't be sure, she felt that this particular something terrible was going to happen to Ichigo specifically. A chill walked itself down her spine just thinking about it. She knew she wasn't good for much if he were to get into a fight, but she could at least try to shield him if she was with him.
"Inoue?"
Orihime looked up, slack-jawed, to see Rukia's concerned face focused on hers. She immediately straightened up, her concentration brought back to the girls sitting at her table, who just so happened to be staring directly at her.
"Umm, y-yes, Kuchiki-san?" Orihime plastered a broad grin on her face and tried to appear as unaffected as ever. It wouldn't do to make the others worry if they didn't need to; all this fretting was probably just her overactive imagination at work again.
"It's about time to go pick the others up," Rukia said gently, "Are you ready?" Orihime gave her a sheepish chuckle and scratched the back of her head.
"U-Uhn!" she answered in the affirmative, "Just let me get this other bite and I'll be all ready!" She took a deep breath and finished off the ice cream cone, licking each of her fingers in turn while Rangiku and Rukia looked on.
"Alright!" Rangiku chirped, clapping her hands together as Orihime finished up, "It's time to get going! Let's go grab the boys and get back to Wrath House!" Orihime thought her voice sounded a bit strained and maybe a bit like she was forcing herself there.
All three rose and headed back to Shuuhei's hatchback, a strange, uncomfortable silence lingering between them. They all seemed lost in their own thoughts, causing Orihime to fidget and chew her bottom lip. They were all friends, though, right? If she felt uncomfortable, she could tell them, couldn't she?
"Ano," she finally ventured, "That house... I... I really am worried about them..." Rukia raised an eyebrow, but otherwise both she and Rangiku kept looking forward.
"No, you are right to worry," Rukia said softly, "I have similar misgivings myself." Her voice was grave, but it comforted Orihime at the same time.
"The boys have been training hard," Rangiku said, her voice serious for once, "And Renji is your brother's second-in-command. Shuuhei's our Master-at-Arms, so we should have faith in them. But..." They opened the doors and got back into the car, situating themselves and buckling up. If anything, Orihime's apprehension was growing. What would they find when they arrived back at the run-down house?
"There was something really bad in there," Orihime quietly finished for Rangiku. The blonde's eyelashes fanned down to her cheeks as she turned the ignition, causing the car to grumble to life.
"Exactly."
____________________________________________________
Chad was just about at the end of his rope.
Sweat poured from his forehead, running in rivulets down his face. He was crouching, one knee on the ground and the other supporting his elbow, his other fist planted against the hardwood floor. Through heavy breaths and sweat-soaked bangs, he watched his opponent. Even though he was kneeling, his head was up and proud, refusing to bow in submission.
As for the bald man, he was twirling his naginata at a leisurely pace, grinning as though he was a kid in a candy shop. Chad watched the pike twirl; although he was exhausted, he could still follow it and track its movements. Ikkaku was tricky, though. Quite a few times already, Chad had expected him to strike in one area, only to be fooled and left throwing himself at thin air. In that second of imbalance, Ikkaku would strike; it was never anything terribly painful, but Chad couldn't help but feel like he was being toyed with. Otherwise, the bald man would've used one of those many opportunities to finish him off by now.
That didn't mean Ikkaku had taken no damage so far. On the contrary, Chad had dealt him quite a few body blows and was sure he'd broken at least one rib. Regardless, the other man hadn't been deterred in the least; in fact, he seemed to be enjoying this bout even more whenever Chad landed a blow. It even occurred to him that his opponent might be a masochist of some sort, but the idea was quickly dismissed. No, he was enjoying the fight as a whole, not just when he took damage.
As the blade of the spear swung towards him and Chad jumped to his feet, he began to feel as though he might not have been ready for this fight after all. Still, he was still standing and that was reason to hope, wasn't it?
The naginata glanced off the shield on his left arm, drawing blood, but not enough to be a cause of concern. There was no way Chad would give up because of a beating like this; he knew he was sturdy and he had to keep this guy busy long enough to Ichigo to finish his business.
Before both opponents could charge back towards one another again, the front door of the house burst open, carrying a sharp bang back to Chad, Ikkaku, and Renji's ears. And before any of them could process exactly who the newcomers might be, a small foot met Renji's ears as well.
"What is the meaning of this?!" An irate Rukia bellowed. As Renji clutched his poor, abused ear, two female figures darted further into the house. Chad recognized them as Rangiku and Orihime, his eyebrows rising at their frantic pace.
"Wow, someone's whipped," Ikkaku commented with a grin. Chad looked in Renji's direction to see what he was talking about. Sure enough, his little mentor had her superior by the same ear she'd just finished kicking, shaking his head furiously.
"Oww, Rukia!" Renji protested, nearly in a whine, "It's just a little spar! Besides, I thought I told you not to come in here!" Rukia ignored his protests, shaking his ear harder for his trouble.
"Where is Ichigo? Can you not feel that?" Chad took a second to see what she meant; sure enough, there was a monstrous presence coming from deeper inside the house. In the heat of battle, he had missed it.
"Oh, that's just Zaraki-taichou," Ikkaku said dismissively. He sat cross-legged on the floor with a 'plop', clearly bored with Renji and Rukia's little tiff.
"What do you mean?" Rukia asked, watching the bald man act as though he could hear some far-off sound.
"Sounds like he's havin' a good time," Ikkaku said with a lopsided grin.
_______________________________________________________
As he stared up at the dimly lit ceiling, chest heaving from exertion, Shuuhei realized that he had made a gross miscalculation.
To begin with, he hadn't gone into battle fully prepared. It had been several days since he had been at full strength, his reserves of energy slowly dwindling between 'feedings'. He figured it must be nice to be a Wraith or a Leavite - their power could feed on itself in a fight, allowing the lucky demon to become exponentially more powerful as they fought. Like his opponent, for example.
That was the second place he went wrong. He had failed to recognize Yumichika for what he was. It hadn't occurred to him until the slender man had put him on the floor that he was one of those lucky demons that could recharge themselves in battle. And considering Shuuhei had no real way to do that in this situation, the outcome of that battle wasn't in much doubt.
The sound of footsteps yanked Shuuhei out of his stormy thoughts. Just from the sound and frequency, he could tell it was Rangiku and one of the younger girls, most likely Orihime. Just to be sure, he lifted his head from the hardwood floor and peered down the poorly-lit hallway. Sure enough, there were the two girls, running toward him.
"Orihime-chan, you run on ahead," Rangiku said firmly, "I'll take care of this." A light blush dusted Shuuhei's tattooed nose as he noticed Orihime's confused expression.
"You can heal wounds?" She asked innocently. Rangiku gave her a wink and shooed her on her way.
"In a manner of speaking!" She replied, causing the younger girl to merely cock her head in curiosity. "But never mind that! Ichigo probably needs your help! Hurry up and go to him!" Shuuhei watched the redhead stiffen, a look of fright suddenly painting her face. Then, with a firm nod, she continued in the direction they'd been running, leaving Shuuhei to Rangiku's tender mercies.
"I swear," she sighed, fixing him with a stern look as she began to unbutton her top, "You're hopeless without me." Even though he was being scolded, Shuuhei still managed to smile.
"It's just because you starve me," he teased, earning a kick to the side for his trouble.
______________________________________________________________________
Orihime ran as fast as she could towards what she was sure was the fight in which Ichigo was currently embroiled. As she got closer, she could even begin to hear it; there was the clang of metal, and here was a battle cry. Yes, they were this way, Ichigo and his opponent, the man the bald-headed man out front had called Zaraki-taichou.
The other thing Orihime noticed as she got closer was the overwhelming nausea she was beginning to experience. Not just that, but her entire body was beginning to go cold. Soon, her pace couldn't even be called a run anymore; she was leaning heavily against the walls, teeth chattering and cold sweat soaking her brow. Even though her entire body was revolting against her, though, she couldn't stop and she couldn't give up. Ichigo was relying on her.
As she neared the door the power was flowing like water through, she almost threw up the ice cream she'd just eaten. Horrible visions of what could be happening to Ichigo just on the other side swirled through her head, causing her to sway on her feet. Every fiber of her being was telling her to run the other way and leave this cursed house. It was worse than the feeling she'd had in Kuchiki manor, worse by several orders of magnitude.
Instead of obeying her instincts, however, she reached one trembling hand towards the door, prepared to slide it back.
_____________________________________________________________
Ichigo was grinning ear to ear. Even as scratched and beaten as he was, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this alive.
Kenpachi was giving him one hell of a hard time, but he found that he was enjoying it. He was reaching toward his limits, stretching his power like an unused muscle. Was this what it was like for the taller, scarred demon? If it was, there was no wonder he was wearing such a homicidal smile.
This was the joy of battle, the challenge of fighting an opponent that outclassed him both in strength and experience. This wasn't like fighting those punks in the alley or like getting ambushed by Renji. It wasn't even like sparring with Rukia or Chad or even Urahara himself. This, Ichigo realized, was what it really meant to be a Wraith.
With a shout of glee, he launched himself toward Kenpachi, sword leveled for another attack. As he was repelled, feet skidding across the polished wooden floor, he heard the door slide open with a snap.
"Ku-Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime's frightened voice reached his ears, causing his head to snap around to see her standing in the doorway.
A million thoughts ran through Ichigo's head as his blood suddenly ran cold. Why was she here? Where were Rukia and Rangiku? He even noticed her nauseous countenance and pallid color. Was she sick? Before he could ask her any of this, though, he saw a look of horror paint her pale face.
"Kurosaki-kun, watch out!"
"Dropped your guard!"
Several things happened in quick succession. Ichigo turned his head just in time to see Kenpachi lunge for him, his scarred and pitted blade aimed directly for his heart. As he raised his own blade to block the blow, though, a rusty orange blur passed in front of his face, arms outstretched as if to shield him with their empty span. Then he heard a shrill 'No!', followed by a wet crunch and a sharp pain in his chest. Finally, he looked up to see Kenpachi's face, the look of triumph melting into one of shock, and then horror.
Ichigo saw all of this, almost as if it were in slow-motion. The sickening realization of what had happened hit him after a few seconds, after his brain had time to catch up with his eyes. Orihime had taken the blow meant for him.
Kenpachi withdrew his sword, the metal sliding out of the twin wounds with a slick slurping sound. Ichigo ignored his own wound; it wasn't very deep at all. The sword hadn't even reached his breastbone, and if it wasn't for the odd burning sensation he felt around it, it would be just like his other cuts. Instead, he was more focused on catching Orihime as she slumped to the floor. As his arms wrapped around her limp body, he could see her pain-stricken face, the half-lidded eyes looking at him regretfully.
"I-I'm sorry, Kurosaki-kun," she whispered, a sickening gurgling noise bubbling up beneath her words, "I don't know how to... Use that shield right just yet..."
And then it hit him: the smell. That rich, red, spicy, sweet fragrance that threatened to rip his humanity out of his chest and pull the ground out from under his feet. This was worse than last time, far worse. He could feel his vision tinting red, casting the entire world in a hellish, unearthly light. This woman, even as she bled in his arms, the warmth and life quickly fleeing her body, she still held such strong sway over his senses that she was all he could see. Until he took notice of Kenpachi again.
This time, however, his mind barely registered who or what the taller man was. Ichigo neither had nor needed any memory of the other man now; he sensed all he needed to know of him. He was here to take his woman away.
That threat was the only thing that would convince Ichigo to relinquish his grip on the bloody girl in his arms now. He let her body slide down to the floor, retrieving his sword as he rose to a crouch. With a deep growl followed by a fierce snarl, he lunged toward Kenpachi, flying through the air with strength heretofore untapped.
Before he could connect, though, he felt a sharp pain in his back. A coolness began to seep out from the pinprick, causing Ichigo to fall out of the air in confusion. As he hit the floor and skidded, Ichigo twisted his head around to see who had hit him.
That bastard Urahara was standing in the doorway, along with Kon and two people Ichigo couldn't identify. One was a tall, dark-skinned woman with long black hair tied into a high ponytail; the other was a tall, thin man whose face and head were almost completely covered by his hood. It didn't matter to Ichigo, anyway; he wouldn't let any of them take Orihime away from him.
As he staggered back to his feet, though, the world began to tilt oddly beneath his feet. He struggled to keep his balance as the floor bucked and swayed, but it seemed like the harder he fought to stay upright, the more impossible it became. Finally unable to resist any longer, he fell back to the floor.
"Don't struggle, Kurosaki-san," he heard Urahara's distorted voice call, "You'll only make it harder on yourself!" Before he could even wonder what that meant, he felt himself falling unconscious.
__________________________________________________________________
"Thank you for that, by the way. I hadn't been able to undo that pesky seal by myself."
"I doubt that."
"Come, come! This was a much easier way of doing it."
"I ain't arguin'. It was a pretty good time until..."
"Yes. When I heard he'd brought her with him, I came as fast as I could."
Ichigo laid staring at the ceiling for a good few minutes before it registered to him that he was listening in on someone else's conversation. As that realization dawned on him, he slowly began to sit up, groggily rubbing at his sandy eyes. His mouth was as dry as cotton and he felt bleary, like he was seeing the world through a filter.
Then he remembered - he'd been drugged, hadn't he? Stretching and flexing his hand in front of his face, he recalled the last things that had happened before he was knocked out. Orihime had been stabbed, her blood had been everywhere - that delicious, tempting blood. He'd lost his mind for a moment and had become utterly consumed by desire for it. That haze was gone now, he noted with no small measure of relief. He also noticed with a bit of suspicion that his inhibitor hadn't been replaced.
"Ah, he's coming to. Good morning, Kurosaki-san!"
Ichigo looked over to see the bastard that had sent him on that fool's errand in the first place. Of course, Urahara was fanning himself idly, green and white striped hat firmly in place. More surprising, though, was who was sitting beside him.
"What's he doing here?!" Ichigo barked, his voice rough from the disuse of sleep. Kenpachi favored him with a crooked smile as he leaned forward, one hand on his knee.
"Waiting to go another round when you're ready," the black-haired man growled.
"Not in my shop," Urahara quickly amended from behind his fan, "He's actually here to help settle the bills for Inoue-san's care." Kenpachi scratched his scarred cheek, glancing away.
"It's 'cause I missed, that's all," he grumbled.
Several emotions flooded through Ichigo. First there was relief to hear that Orihime was alright. Then there was anger, hot, stomach-clenching fury that she had even been put into harm's way. And then he wanted to punch the two men in front of him; it was their fault, after all, and here they were joking about it! In fact, Ichigo attempted to stand up to do just that, but was quickly floored again by another wave of dizziness.
"Easy, Kurosaki-san," Urahara said gently, "You'll still be groggy from the tranquilizer." Ichigo turned to glare at him instead.
"Where is she?" Ichigo asked, his anger and frustration palpable. The look on Urahara's face softened a bit at that inquiry.
"You won't be able to see her yet," he replied numbly. This was obviously not an answer Ichigo wanted to hear.
"Bullshit!" He yelled, trying and failing again to stand, "I want to see her! Now!" Urahara and Kenpachi seemed unfazed by his outburst, which made him even angrier. He wanted to shake them both until they responded in kind.
"He's got it bad," Kenpachi sniffed to no one in particular. Of course, this only made Ichigo want to hit him even more.
"This is as much for your protection as hers," Urahara explained, genuine regret tinging his voice, "Until you're fitted for a regulator, I'm afraid you're probably the biggest threat to her here."
"Regulator?" Ichigo asked, his voice tense, "Just give me my inhibitor! I'll put that on and go see her, dammit!"
"I'm afraid there's a problem!" Urahara responded, his fake cheerfulness firmly back in place. As he held up the remains of Ichigo's charred, broken inhibitor, Ichigo balked.
"What the hell happened to it?!" He yelled, "What did you do, you damn shady shopkeeper?!"
"You happened to it, Kurosaki-san," Urahara said, his voice growing more serious, "Like Zaraki-san here, you can no longer wear a simple inhibitor. When we tried to replace this one, your power completely fried it. I'll need to order you a more complicated regulator to make sure it can handle everything you throw at it."
Ichigo simply stared. That was how Kenpachi and the others had drawn weapons without taking off their inhibitors earlier?
"Don't look so down, kid," Kenpachi barked, "Wearing a regulator's a badge of honor for a Wraith." When Ichigo gave him a confused look, he continued as though he was explaining the simplest thing in the world.
"A regulator allows you to control how much of your power you use at any one time," he continued, "It also acts like a safety valve if you generate too much." Ichigo simply sat and stared, absorbing the information; he was too powerful for a regular inhibitor now?
"I see," he said softly, even though he didn't exactly feel like he fully understood, "And until I get one, I can't see Inoue because of her..." Urahara nodded his assent.
"Why do I keep reacting that way?!" Ichigo finally blurted out, "Is there something wrong with me?" Urahara shook his head slowly.
"It's not just you," Urahara corrected him, "It's any demon within scent range without a limiter of some sort on. Sado-san and Hisagi-san were also affected. That's also why I came with your familiars instead of any other demons." Ichigo once again favored him with a puzzled look.
"Familiars?" He asked, perplexed, "I only recognized Kon..." Just then, the door slid open and the dark-skinned woman from earlier strode in.
"Don't tell me you don't recognize me, kid," she said with a grin. The look on Ichigo's face told her he clearly didn't. "Sheesh, Kisuke," she said, her tone suddenly flat, "You really need to pick smarter pupils." Suddenly, it hit Ichigo.
"Y-Yoruichi-san?!" He squawked, jaw dropping, "I thought you were a guy!" A light blush dusted his cheeks - hadn't he undressed in front of her? The cat lady must have noticed, because her grin widened.
"I love that reaction!" she said before turning back to Urahara, “I just checked in on Inoue. She’s stable and beginning to heal nicely.” Ichigo’s demeanor calmed a bit; it comforted him to be reminded that she was alright again. Urahara and Kenpachi also seemed to be relieved, although the latter certainly didn't seem like he wanted anyone to notice.
"Well, isn't that wonderful news!" Urahara said suddenly, snapping his fan, "Kurosaki-san can stop worrying now!"
"Shut up," Ichigo mumbled, looking away.
________________________________________________________
Outside, the pale crescent moon rose low above the skyline. It had barely cleared the roof of Urahara's shop before a shadow spread out to block it from a neighboring roof.
A pair of black wings, black and leathery, stretched beneath the starry sky. The pale creature they were attached to watched the shop with a great deal of interest. They hadn't noticed him in the hours he'd been there. That was a good thing. They were obviously busy and he was only here for reconnaissance anyway. And what information he had to relay!
He had seen the familiars bring the wounded girl in, green eyes following the activity as her bloodied form was carted into the shop. He recognized that scent; it was exactly as his master had told him it would be.
More than that, the one he was told was her protector was also out of commission. He was clearly injured when they brought him in, unconscious from either the damage he had taken or through some other means. This lent him the suspicion that the red-haired boy had come into contact with some of that girl's tainted blood. This was also valuable information, information his master would love dearly to have.
Standing straight up, his entire wingspan visible, the pale man suddenly shifted in the twinkle of an eye. In his place was a small black bat, wings beating furiously at the air as he headed east, into the moon.
