Chapter 4 up in this bitch!
Sep. 1st, 2009 09:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
queenofchalicesTitle: The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 4 - Inhibited
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 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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The first thing Ichigo noted upon returning to some semblance of consciousness was that he was comfortable - far more comfortable than he remembered being when he passed out. He lay flat on his back, his limbs warm and leaden and reluctant to move. The cold concrete of the school's roof was no longer beneath him; he now lay upon something cushioned, but very firm underneath. His head was likewise supported by a very firm pillow; unfortunately, as he floated back into consciousness, he had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to have a sore neck as soon as he sat up.
The dim lighting in the room flickered against his eyelids, distracting him from any further sleep he might have been tempted to get. Aside from the light, there was also some kind of noise... voices? His brow drew together in a faint crease as he tried to listen to them and make out what they were saying.
"A shredded shoulder, two broken ribs, a punctured lung, a bruised stomach... If it'd been just a fraction to the right, well! That would've been a very unpleasant phone call!"
"Speaking of that, he said the seal was broken? Does he intend you to fix it?"
"No, I suppose not. The other ones held, after all. But he figures we might as well teach him a thing or two since we have the opportunity. Might come in handy."
"As we've already seen."
"Shh, shh! It looks like he's coming to!"
Ichigo listened to the two men speak, somewhat disappointed when their conversation ended abruptly. Perhaps if they'd spoken a bit longer, he could've found out where he was, or what had happened to him...
That was it! He brought a heavy hand to his face, rubbing one of his eyes lazily as he recalled his last memories before losing consciousness. He'd been fighting that red-headed demon, Renji, on top of the school. Except in this case, it had been less of a fight and more of a massacre. Ichigo snorted ruefully; he wasn't accustomed to losing fights. Oddly enough, though, for all the injuries the strange man had just rattled off, his pride stung worse than any physical part of his body. His body...
Ichigo's eyes flew open and his hand shot to his chest as he sat up like a bolt, panting. He clutched at the robe that had been hung loosely over his shoulders, searching for the gash where Renji's sword had split his chest open. He found nothing but soft bandages covering smooth skin and a dull ache where the wound had been. Gingerly, he moved his right arm at the shoulder; the pain was gone there, too.
The fog of sleep clearing from his head, Ichigo began to look about himself. He'd been laid to rest on a small futon, surrounded on four sides by ropes and charms, candles lighted at each corner of the pallet. Even stranger, there appeared to be some sort of pale yellow light coloring the room; at first he thought it must be a filtered lampshade or colored lightbulb, but he couldn't find the source of the colored light. He looked curiously at his slightly discolored hand, opening and closing it as he marveled at the strange atmosphere.
From his left, he heard a man clear his throat. Ichigo turned his head toward the sound, seeing for the first time the owner of one of the voices he'd been hearing while he was still half-asleep. He was barely even middle-aged, with messy blond hair peeking out around his ears from beneath a green-and-white striped hat. Its wide, down-turned brim cast his eyes in shadow, rendering only half his face perfectly visible. The half Ichigo could see clearly was turned up in a welcoming grin lined with a five o'clock shadow. As for his clothing, he wore a loose-fitting green outfit and a black haori with white diamonds along the hem, that overall gave the messy impression that the man himself had just rolled out of bed. His feet were tucked solidly beneath his bottom as though he'd been waiting patiently for Ichigo to finally awaken.
Ichigo took a quick glance around the room. Hadn't there been two voices while he was out? All that was here now was this scruffy-looking man and a black cat.
"Good morning, Kurosaki Ichigo!" the cheerful-looking man finally said, snapping open a paper folding fan and causing Ichigo to jump a bit, "Well, technically, it's the evening, but the sentiment stands." Ichigo favored him with a confused scowl. About a thousand questions were running through his mind, but he decided to go with the obvious one first.
"Who're you?" he finally responded, openly staring at the man while he leaned his forehead into the palm of his hand. The other man's cheerfulness was a bit grating while he was still recovering his senses.
"Just a simple shopkeeper!" the man gave back happily, "I'm Urahara Kisuke, and you're in my shop." A shop? Of all the places, why would he be in a shop? Ichigo tried to make sense of it; what kind of shopkeeper dragged dying teenagers into a back room and healed them? The infuriatingly smiley kind, he supposed.
"I was dying," Ichigo observed stoically before turning back to Urahara, "You saved me, didn't you? Why?" It wasn't every day that strange men in even stranger hats happened upon one's dying carcass and nursed him back to health, after all.
"So harsh!" Urahara responded, feigning hurt, "Is this how you show gratitude? Ahh, well..." For a second, Ichigo almost thought he saw the cat beside Urahara roll its eyes as it sat back on its haunches and began to bathe one of its front paws.
"Okay, thank you," Ichigo said automatically, as if trying to get it out of the way, "So, why am I here?" Urahara slapped his fan against the palm of his hand, snapping it shut.
"I'm glad you asked, Kurosaki-san!" he chirped, "You're here to be trained, of course!" Ichigo stared at him openly then, his mouth hanging slightly open in shock.
"Trained?" he parroted mindlessly, "Trained for what?" He was starting to have a bad feeling about this, as if this had all been planned out ahead of time without anyone telling him.
"Well, you're a demon, aren't you?" Urahara said, almost off-handedly. Even though his voice was light and nonchalant as he said it, Ichigo noticed there was a hard undercurrent to his gaze. "To be honest, you're way behind other demons your age, so we're going to have to start with the basics, but I'm sure you've got a lot of potential!"
Ichigo's eye started to twitch. He didn't know what was more irritating: the fact that people kept referring to him as a demon, or the fact that he was apparently way behind the rest of the demon population. If they were going to call him one, they least they could do was not make him feel developmentally challenged.
"Look," Ichigo mumbled between his teeth, "I'm grateful you saved my life and all, but really, I'm not a demon. You've got the wrong guy." He put a hand to the futon upon which he laid and began to stand. Before he could really move from his position, though, a wave of lightheadedness passed over him, causing him to abandon that course of action.
"Ah ah ah," the blond man chided, "I don't advise getting up just yet. You lost quite a bit of blood and it hasn't all been replaced yet. But no, we don't have the wrong person at all. You are Kurosaki Ichigo, aren't you?" Ichigo cradled his head with the palm of his hand, glowering at Urahara.
"Yeah, I'm Kurosaki Ichigo," he said coolly, "But I'm human." Suddenly, to his astonishment, the black cat that had been washing itself beside Urahara moved forward, pinning him with its yellow gaze.
"You're stubborn, at the very least," the cat began to speak, causing Ichigo to gape in astonishment, "But you are a demon. Look at the facts subjectively. Surely even you know something's not quite human about you." The cat's voice was firm and masculine. Ichigo realized with a start that this was the other voice he'd heard through his earlier daze. He'd heard of familiars before, but this was ridiculous; were they actually supposed to talk? Either way, these two knew more about him than he was really comfortable with.
"Okay," he cautiously conceded, "Let's say some weird stuff has been happening to me over the past few days. What about it? What does it have to do with anything?" Urahara and his cat exchanged a look.
"Well, you could start by telling us how it started," Urahara said, turning back to him, "It'll help us decide the best course of action to take. I have a feeling that lieutenant back there had a few of his facts mixed up." Ichigo groaned, his face meeting the palm of his hand.
"You heard that?" Urahara's grin widened.
"Every word!" the shopkeeper said, perhaps a bit too happily for having just admitted he'd been eavesdropping.
"No one else was even there, but it seems like the whole damn town knows!" Ichigo groused to no one in particular, "Next thing you know, Dad'll pop up and congratulate me on the kills or something!" Ichigo couldn't see it, but he could swear Urahara raised an eyebrow under his hat.
"Oh, so that part was true!" he observed, a hint of mischief in his voice, "Well, at least you do have some potential!" There was a pause as Ichigo stared at the older man. He made it sound like such a good thing. "What I mean is, you fought four and made it out alive with no training. That's a good start." Ichigo snorted and rolled his eyes.
"What about the other part?" Urahara asked, his voice suddenly turning serious. Ichigo looked curiously over at him. Why did everyone seem to think he was the one who'd injured Inoue?
"No," Ichigo replied, his expression growing serious, "The guys I fought, I caught them in the act. Their leader was attacking her. The other three jumped me and the next thing I knew, I was tearing through them." Urahara looked thoughtful for a second, as though he recognized something.
"That must've been what caused it to break," he said, more for his own benefit than Ichigo's. He hated that he was being kept in the dark about so much. At the same time, he recalled the beating he'd gotten from those three thugs and how it had felt like something within him, something indeterminable, had broken. After that break, he'd felt the gush of power that had led him to plow through his opponents like a whirlwind.
"Ah well," Urahara finally said, waving his closed fan as he smiled disarmingly, "That's not important right now. What is important is that you've now got potential to realize!" Ichigo looked at Urahara with his eyebrow raised.
"You know, I'd really like to know what the hell is going on right now," Ichigo monotoned, casting a flat look towards the smiling blond man beside his futon.
"Right, right!" Urahara replied cheerily, "As I said before, Yoruichi and I are going to be your teachers from now on! Won't that be fun?" The black cat flicked his tail as Ichigo stared quizzically at him.
"You and your... familiar?" he asked incredulously. To be sure, he wasn't quite certain what the things did beyond accompanying their demonic masters. In any case, Urahara seemed to beam at him while the cat looked just as bored as any other cat throughout history.
"Exactly right! Good eye!" the older man said enthusiastically, "I apologize for not introducing you sooner. Kurosaki-san, this is my familiar, Yoruichi. Yoruichi will be instructing you in demonic history and lore. As for myself, I'll personally instruct you on how to handle your demonic abilities." Ichigo got the feeling he was going to have to decipher the evasive man's words.
"So... Remedial classes and teaching me how to fight?" He wasn't sure if he should be insulted or not. He wasn't slow by any stretch of the imagination, and he'd been getting in scuffles for years. For his part, Urahara looked as though he'd deflated a bit at that observation.
"Err, in so many words, yes!" he confirmed sheepishly, "Other demons begin training at a young age, so you've missed quite a lot." Ichigo sighed, defeated. It looked like there was no way he would get out of this.
"When do we start?" Ichigo asked reluctantly. At that, Urahara smiled and began to stand.
"I'm glad you asked!" he chirped, the happy facade beginning to grate on Ichigo a bit more, "We'll start first thing in the morning. You still need to stay in that healing barrier a while longer to regain your strength. Until then, Ururu can bring you some dinner." Ichigo almost asked to whom he was referring, but thought better of it; he had more pressing questions for him.
"Wait," Ichigo asked, looking up at the older man, "How long is this gonna take? My family will miss me." Urahara quirked an eyebrow at that, as if Ichigo had just said something odd.
"No," he replied evenly, "You shouldn't worry about that. We've already given them a suitable cover story." Ichigo wondered if there was something he'd missed. Either way, that was sufficient for now. After pausing for a few moments, he spoke again.
"And Inoue?" he said reluctantly, "She needs someone to look after her." This seemed to pique Urahara's interest, as well. Ichigo groaned inwardly; that girl really was too popular for her own good if even shady shopkeepers were taking an interest in her. Finally, Urahara broke into a wide - and somewhat unsettling, in Ichigo's opinion - grin.
"Oh, she's been provided for, as well," he finally answered, "Really, there's nothing for you to worry about."
"An answer like that would make me worry more," he retorted somewhat sourly. Urahara flicked open his paper fan to hide what Ichigo presumed was a snicker.
"That's very sweet of you, Kurosaki-san," Urahara offered, "But she'll be fine." That made Ichigo even more frustrated; just what exactly was this old man implying?
"Sweet, my ass," he grumbled under his breath, grabbing his pillow and considering chucking it at Urahara. Before he could put thought into action, though, Urahara and his cat slipped around the door frame, black haori flapping behind him as he went.
"Rest up," he called from the hallway, "You have a big day ahead tomorrow."
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Ichigo was unimpressed with Urahara's idea of a 'big day'. He'd been sent to a cavernous underground training room that resembled little more than a barren desert and given a folding desk and a rolling chalkboard by the black cat. Ichigo figured the desert part made sense, at least; if Urahara was going to teach him to use his abilities, he'd need open space without worrying about collateral damage.
But it was the chalkboard and his feline teacher that was confounding him. He stared at it, vaguely wondering how a cat would even write with chalk anyway, but sure enough, when it was rolled out, it already had writing on it. Maybe Urahara had written on it for him? Either way, he read the writing scratched onto the green slate. It was a list of the seven deadly sins.
"You should take notes," the cat said, pinning him with his yellow gaze, "You'll probably have to refer back to this in the future." Ichigo barely suppressed a snort.
"Is it really that much information?" he asked derisively. The cat seemed to roll its eyes.
"Considering you know less than a five year old demon child?" Yoruichi replied bluntly, causing Ichigo to bristle, "Today, we'll be starting with the basics of noble demon society. If you ever intend to be anything, you'll need to know this." Ichigo scowled and propped his head against his hand, tapping his pencil against the notepad he'd been provided with. He was sure the cat was exaggerating; it couldn't be that different from human society, could it?
Besides, what did the cat mean, 'ever intend to be anything'? He was going to graduate high school, go to college, and get a normal job, just like his classmates. Hell, he might even help his old man out at the clinic, if all else failed. Ichigo had no intention of staying mixed up with these people longer than he had to, demonic ability or not. Either way, he supposed he'd have to get through this before anything else.
"Fine, fine," he finally sighed, giving his attention over to the cat in front of him.
"We'll start with this," his teacher said, motioning to the blackboard with his tail, "Can you tell me what this is?" Ichigo raised an eyebrow; was the cat toying with him?
"The seven deadly sins," he droned back, "So what?" He could've sworn that cat snorted.
"That's what humans call them," the cat shot back, "In reality, these are the Seven Noble Houses of Hell." Ichigo could feel the confusion filtering into a scowl on his face. Renji had mentioned some kind of house, hadn't he? That cat's infuriatingly smug look didn't help matters any. However, he noticed that look change after several seconds.
"Are you taking notes?" the cat asked, looking for all the world like a dangerous predator. Ichigo lifted his chin from his hand, somewhat startled, and began scribbling on the paper before him.
"Sorry," he mumbled. The cat's tail twitched as he went back to pacing before the blackboard.
"To continue," Yoruichi started again, "Every member of the demonic nobility belongs to one of these seven houses. Usually, their personality dictates which house they belong to. We'll begin with the House of Pride." Ichigo scratched the notes down on his paper as Yoruichi spoke.
"As you can imagine, the defining personality trait belonging to this house is pride," Yoruichi continued, "Collectively, demons of Pride are known as Superbia. Singularly, they are called Superbus. They're usually reserved and aloof and have a very refined air about them. They're natural-born leaders, and it's not uncommon to find them in charge of things." Ichigo recalled that Renji had said he was from the House of Pride; somehow, those traits didn't seem to fit him at all.
"That's it?" he asked, disbelief in his voice, "How the hell am I supposed to recognize that?" The cat seemed to roll its eyes.
"You won't always recognize them on sight, or even from being around them," Yoruichi responded, as though this should have been patently obvious, "In fact, it's entirely possible for a demon to hide his or her alignment altogether, if they so wish. But you're getting ahead of me." Ichigo huffed and sat back in his chair.
"Next are demons of Lust," Yoruichi continued, ignoring his student's scowl, "Males of this house are known as Incubi, while females are called Succubi. The singular of that is Incubus and Succubus, of course. Not surprisingly, these seem to be the ones humans most commonly know about. Because so many different kinds of people can be considered attractive, these demons can be notoriously difficult to identify." Ichigo jotted the description down; he found his mind wandering and conjuring up an image of his red-headed, bespectacled classmate and her wandering hands. Well, at least this house would be easy to remember.
"Following that, we have demons of Gluttony," the cat went on, "Rather simply, these demons are known as Gluttons. As you would expect, most have a large frame. This doesn't necessarily mean they're out of shape, though; a great many of them pack quite a wallop." Ichigo couldn't help but picture a sumo wrestler as he took notes.
"Then there are the demons of Sloth. Collectively, these demons are known as Acedia; singularly, they're Acedians. They often look tired or sick or have a general air of malaise about them." Ichigo thought vaguely that these would probably be some of the easiest demons to take in a fight. Maybe if he had to fight one, he'd get a chance to find out.
"Next are the Leavites, demons of Envy. Because pride can be described as a kind of dominance, and envy as the desire for dominance, these two alignments are often at odds with each other. Some of the most competitive demons come from this house." A vague sense of recognition flitted across Ichigo's consciousness; there was something about that description that seemed familiar to him. He pushed it to the back of his mind while the familiar continued.
"Sixth, we have the demons of Greed, the Mammon. As you might imagine, these demons tend to amass things that interest them: wealth, knowledge, skills, lackeys, power. Like the Superbia, they too tend to rise easily to positions of influence." Something about the familiar's voice became a bit warmer at this description, almost nostalgic. Ichigo quirked an eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing, opting instead of scratch notes on his paper.
"Finally," the cat said, casting Ichigo a meaningful glance, "There are demons of Wrath, the Wraiths. These demons are marked by the intense desire for battle; some even regard it as outright bloodlust. During the Sengoku era, the Wraiths were prized for their prowess on the battlefield. Today, however, as the need for warriors has diminished, so too has their position in society." Ichigo barely caught the last part, though. Something in his mind had clicked at the feline teacher's words, as though a piece of a puzzle had fallen perfectly into place. Wraith. Somehow, the word and idea resonated with him, causing his heart to speed up and his breath to hitch. As he set his pencil against the paper again, he noticed that his hand had begun to tremble ever so slightly.
"There's one more class of demon, apart from those seven divisions," Yoruichi continued, shifting Ichigo's attention back to the familiar's voice, "That being the Ronin. As I'm sure you've already discovered, these demons don't belong to any noble house or family and have no designation. Perhaps their blood is too thin to qualify for nobility, or their power too frail; either way, they aren't strong enough to enter any of the seven houses. Quite a few are rogues and vagabonds, living outside the laws that bind noble demons." Ichigo felt his teeth grind as Yoruichi described them; the memories of the four ronin in the alleyway flooded his mind unbidden, almost distracting him from writing the information into his notes.
"Do you have any questions?" the cat asked abruptly. Ichigo finished writing and put his pencil down, looking over the notes he'd taken.
"So," he said, his words coming slowly, thoughtfully, "This information is helpful and all, but... what practical use does it have? I mean, do these 'designations' or whatever actually do anything other than give us names to call the demons?" As far as Ichigo could see, this information was nice, but fairly useless.
"That's our next lesson," the cat replied, ears flicking. Ichigo flipped to the next sheet of paper in his notebook, a bored look on his face.
"A demon's designation not only tells us a bit about their personality," Yoruichi continued, seemingly ignoring his pupil as he spoke, "It tells us how they acquire and store their demonic power; in some cases, it might even give you a clue as to their weakness. If you think about it, the things they draw power from should be simple enough to figure out, depending on their type. Would you like to give it a shot?" With that, the cat turned back to Ichigo, fixing him with his yellow feline gaze.
"Lust demons probably get their power from sex," he mumbled, his face coloring. He wouldn't have even gone for that one except that it was the most obvious one of all. Either way, Yoruichi sniffed and seemed to roll his eyes.
"Of course they do," the cat responded, "That one was easy enough. The rest may be more difficult."
"Demons of Sloth, as the word implies, gain their power by sleeping and resting." The question that had been itching at Ichigo's mind from before finally made its way to his lips.
"So does that mean they're weak or something?" he asked unbidden. That caused Yoruichi to turn sharply towards him, his look turning cool.
"Don't make that mistake," Yoruichi snapped, "No one classification of demon is any weaker than the others. Finding yourself on the wrong side of an angry Acedian can be just as bad as facing down a Wraith or a Leavite. The reason they rest so much isn't because they're weak or lazy; it's because they have the ability to expend a lot of power at once." Ichigo looked at his paper, casting his eyes downward. As little as he liked his teacher, the reprimand had certainly been humbling.
"Sorry, Sensei," he mumbled, not meeting the cat's eyes. For a second, Yoruichi looked a bit startled; it passed quickly as he regained his former smug air.
"Don't be," the cat replied, "It's a rookie mistake." With that, Yoruichi went right back to the topic at hand, as though he'd never been interrupted.
"Now that we've taken care of the easy ones, let's get into some of the harder houses to grasp. In alignment with their cardinal sin, the demons of Pride draw their energy from their dominance and air of control; in short, from their sense of pride. Power lends itself to greater power. The obvious inverse of this would be something that breaks pride or humbles; hence what I meant by seeing the weakness held within each designation." Ichigo's mind flashed to the image of the short, black-haired girl from earlier jamming his head into a wall with her fist. Well, that certainly made sense.
"Demons of Envy, on the other hand, merely need to compete for dominance. Since the feeling of envy stems from perceiving a lack within oneself, demons of this persuasion gain power by competing successfully against others. If you can find the root of their insecurity, it's easy to chip away at their defenses."
"Gluttons aren't as obvious as they seem at first glance. Yes, some can gain power through eating food; some, unfortunately, can take this a step further and use things like material objects, souls, or even the power of other demons to give themselves power."
"Another subtle twist on the sin that spawned them, the Mammon not only gain power by amassing money and valuables, but by amassing anything that interests them. Knowledge, power, influence, friends, lovers, all of these can be sources of power for Greed demons."
Finally, Yoruichi turned back to Ichigo, a shrewd look in his eyes. He finished writing notes and looked up to meet the cat's yellow eyes.
"And how do you think the demons of Wrath gain power, Ichigo?" Yoruichi asked pointedly.
"Through fighting," he answered automatically. Ichigo didn't even have to think about it; the answer rolled right off his tongue, unbidden, as though it was written into his DNA. He started for a second, a bit weirded out that he knew it that easily. After a second, though, his surprise faded, replaced by a dull recognition: this is what he was. He knew it as surely as he knew what color his hair was and what direction the sun came up in the morning. It was instinctive.
"Very good, Ichigo," the cat said, seeming to smile at the words. For a second, the room was quiet.
"Hey," Ichigo finally interrupted, "I have a question." The cat cocked its head to the side, ears flicking.
"Yes?"
"So... These houses," he began, his words coming slowly and thoughtfully, "Do you have to belong to that, ahh... designation to belong to the house?" It was an odd question, but that was the best way he could phrase it. There was something that made him think that the two demons he'd encountered earlier couldn't possibly belong be the same kind of demon.
"No," Yoruichi answered, confirming his suspicion, "Once you attain an official title in the house of your designation, you can either choose to stay there or you can move to another of the main houses or to a private house." The wheels in Ichigo's head turned half a degree. He'd known there was no way Rukia and Renji were the same type. From the descriptions given, he could guess Rukia was a Pride demon - a Superbus. He felt a bit frustrated that even though he'd fought Renji, he couldn't make a good guess as to what he was. His first instinct was to think he was a Wraith, but something told him that didn't exactly fit. Whatever he was, he wasn't originally from the House of Pride.
Once that was cleared up, Ichigo's teacher turned back to his blackboard, pointing out more notes and continuing with the lesson. Suddenly, this stuff seemed much more interesting to him than he ever thought it might.
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"What's this?"
Ichigo held his hands out to catch the studded leather strap Urahara had tossed to him. As he studied it, he realized it was just long enough to fit around his wrist and snap - a plain brown leather wristband with a skull engraved into it. He couldn't quite decide if the design was tacky or... stylish.
"Put it on!" The shopkeeper was making shooing motions with his paper fan, a wide grin on his face. "I picked it out myself!"
Casting the shady blond a skeptical look, Ichigo pulled the leather around his wrist and snapped it. As soon as he heard the metallic 'click' of the snaps, he felt something cool wash over his body, as though he'd walked into an air conditioned room after being in the heat all day. He hadn't even noticed before he put it on that his senses had been on overdrive since that night in the alley; now his eyesight, hearing, and sense of smell seemed to immediately go back to what he considered normal, comfortable, human. His eyes widened as he stared, disbelieving, at the brown leather band in place on his wrist.
"What did it... do?" Ichigo asked, nearly dumbstruck. For his part, Urahara was grinning smugly.
"It's an inhibitor, or a limiter," Urahara said proudly. Ichigo's eyebrows shot up at the word; hadn't Renji and the demon in the alleyway both said something about that?
"Aha, I thought so," Urahara continued, snapping his fan shut, "Do you understand what it is now? From the look on your face, I suspect you have some idea." Ichigo continued to regard the wristband with something akin to wonder.
"I feel... human again," he remarked, turning it this way and that.
"I imagine you do," Urahara remarked, pulling over a cushion and bending his legs beneath him to sit on it, "That's the purpose of an inhibitor. You feel human, you look human; to others, you no longer have a demonic aura that they can sense." Ichigo's brow began to crease as he thought.
"If demons are that much more powerful than humans, why do we need to pretend we are human?" Ichigo asked. The odd contradiction confused him a bit; it wasn't that he wanted to run around oppressing people with his new-found powers or anything, but it really didn't make sense to him. Why hide if you already ran everything?
"Because it's civilized," Urahara replied simply, "Put another way, the longer the demon race spent in the human world, the more their culture was changed by humanity. Besides that, it allows you to go about your business without attracting attention or other demons looking for a fight."
He had definitely attracted attention without one, Ichigo recalled ruefully. An image of Renji came unbidden into his mind. With a start, realization dawned on Ichigo.
"Then those goggles Renji was wearing..." The scene replayed in Ichigo's head. As soon as Renji had removed those goggles, his demon form had materialized! Was this how Ichigo was supposed to access his when he needed it?
"Good eye," Urahara noted, a sly look on his face, "Yes, his goggles were his limiter. You might also have noticed that he was instantly able to use his demonic powers when he took them off." Ichigo nodded; oh, had he ever noticed.
"That's because the inhibitor acts as a dam of sorts," Urahara explained, leaning back on his hand and fanning himself lazily with his paper fan, "While you have it on, it holds back your power, kind of like charging a battery. Once you take it off, you're able to expend that power as you see fit. Others will be able to notice it, too: It's like shouting in a quiet room." Ichigo's eyes narrowed a bit.
"That's why all those people were giving me dirty looks," he grumbled. Aside from Rukia and Renji, he knew two others had been staring oddly at him that morning. At the moment, though, he found himself completely unable to recall their faces. Frustrated, he stared blankly at his new wristband.
"With your pleasant demeanor, I can't imagine anyone giving you dirty looks, Kurosaki-san!" Urahara retorted happily, causing Ichigo to turn and glare in his direction, "But yes, they could most likely sense you." Ichigo snorted before looking back at his wrist.
"So when I take this back off," he started contemplatively, "I'll automatically be able to draw my sword, like Renji did." Urahara cocked his head to the side, giving Ichigo a curious look.
"If you want," the blond replied casually, "I'll show you how to do that, as well. First, though, you need to rest a bit to build up your demonic energy. After that, we'll begin your training."
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Orihime propped her chin in her hands and leaned her elbows on her knees. She'd flopped down on the cold, damp concrete steps of the school to wait for Sado-kun, but as it began to chill her bottom, she wondered if that was really such a good idea.
A week. It had been a whole week since Kurosaki-kun had disappeared. School was dull without him and his scowling face and colorful hair. Every day, Orihime opened the door to the classroom, hoping he'd finally be back at his desk, and every day this week she'd been disappointed. The rest of the day after that moment was spent staring idly at the clock and waiting for it to signal the end of the school day. She had been tempted a few times to check his family's clinic to see if he was back yet, but every time she almost got the gumption to do it, her shyness would hamstring her.
Instead, at the end of every school day, Sado-kun would silently walk her home. He'd done this consistently every day since Kurosaki-kun had disappeared a week before. Now it was Friday, and Orihime found herself absentmindedly wondering if she might ask him if he knew anything. Surely Sado-kun would know when he was coming back, right? They were best friends, weren't they?
Maybe she could ask him when he came back. Different from the other days during the past week, Chad had excused himself as soon as class let out to make a stop at the vending machines before they set out. Orihime had told him she'd wait for him out on the front steps. As she rubbed her legs to warm them, though, she wondered if that had really been such a good idea with the cool weather. Maybe she should start wearing tights under her school skirt again, at least until it got warmer?
Orihime was drawn from her reverie by the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs towards her. She looked up, half-expecting to see Chad.
"Good afternoon, Inoue-san," the newcomer called, his voice loud enough to be heard but not quite loud enough to attract anyone else's attention. Orihime smiled kindly at him, not minding the intrusion at all.
"Oh! Good afternoon," she called back sweetly.
"Waiting for someone?" His voice was politely curious. Orihime didn't mind indulging his curiosity at all.
"Oh, yes! Sado-kun is going to get a drink before he walks me home!"
"Ahh. Before you go, do you think you could help me with something?" Orihime lifted her head; this would be a good way to kill time until Sado-kun returned!
"Sure!" she chirped, standing and dusting her skirt off as she followed the young man away from the school.
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In the week he'd been at Urahara's shop, Ichigo had made good use of the underground fighting chamber beneath the store. After learning how to use his limiter and how to draw his sword at will, he'd spent a good deal of time sparring with Urahara. Most of his days were consumed by Yoruichi's lessons, learning about history, bylaws, and demon physiology, so the chance to stretch his legs and exercise was always welcome.
Friday afternoon had been no different. He'd unsnapped his wristband, immediately materializing his black outfit and nodachi in a burst of red light and then spent the following half hour trying to score a hit on Urahara with it. The older man was frustratingly elusive, blocking any blows that Ichigo almost managed to land with his sword-cane. Immediately following those blows, Ichigo would usually find himself face-down on the hard-packed dirt of the training room.
It was after one such blow that Ichigo finally pushed himself off the ground and dove at Urahara with such speed and intensity that he finally, finally managed to almost strike his head. This time, instead of blocking with his sword-cane, Urahara tipped his head to the side, allowing Ichigo's sword to narrowly miss him. As the black blade streaked past his ear, it took Urahara's green and white striped hat with it.
"Yes!" Ichigo hissed, grinning triumphantly. A second too late, he realized that Urahara was grinning now as well. Only now, instead of their normal, placid gray color, his eyes were glowing red. In the second it took Ichigo's mind to process what he'd just seen, he was knocked across the room and flat on his back into a large rock.
Pulling himself out of the rubble and coughing, Ichigo wiped his face and cursed. He looked up to see Urahara sauntering towards him, dusting his hat off before placing it back on his shaggy head. His usual lopsided grin back in place, he extended his cane towards Ichigo as his geta clacked against the dirt.
"Another round for me," he said cheerfully as his student pushed himself up off the ground, sputtering. Before Ichigo could protest, though, he spotted one of Urahara's assistants, a red-haired boy named Jinta, running across the training room towards them. He was out of breath, a scowl on his face, and clutching a rolled up piece of paper tightly.
"What is it, Jinta-kun?" Urahara asked, looking over his shoulder at the boy. The young assistant stopped and placed his hands on his knees, catching his breath. Once he was satisfied with his breathing again, he extended his arm to Ichigo, shoving the roll of paper into his dirty face.
"Someone shot this through the store window!" the boy yelled indignantly, glaring at the paper. Ichigo's eyebrows rose as he took it from him.
"How could they shoot a piece of paper through a window?" he asked absentmindedly, unrolling the note.
"With an arrow, duh! Tessai's pissed!" Ichigo held back the urge to punt the boy as his eyes began rapidly scanning the note.
"Language, Jinta-kun," Urahara mumbled, giving the boy a small whack in the shin with his cane. Ichigo ignored them as his eyes widened at the contents of the note.
Kurosaki Ichigo,
If you would like to see your Mark again, you will meet me at the location designated at the bottom of this letter at sundown. If you do not, I cannot guarantee her safety.
At the bottom of the note were directions to a park Ichigo recognized as being close to his school. More troublesome than that, though, was that word Renji had used again - Mark. He realized with a chill what the letter was telling him.
Someone had taken Inoue.
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 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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The first thing Ichigo noted upon returning to some semblance of consciousness was that he was comfortable - far more comfortable than he remembered being when he passed out. He lay flat on his back, his limbs warm and leaden and reluctant to move. The cold concrete of the school's roof was no longer beneath him; he now lay upon something cushioned, but very firm underneath. His head was likewise supported by a very firm pillow; unfortunately, as he floated back into consciousness, he had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to have a sore neck as soon as he sat up.
The dim lighting in the room flickered against his eyelids, distracting him from any further sleep he might have been tempted to get. Aside from the light, there was also some kind of noise... voices? His brow drew together in a faint crease as he tried to listen to them and make out what they were saying.
"A shredded shoulder, two broken ribs, a punctured lung, a bruised stomach... If it'd been just a fraction to the right, well! That would've been a very unpleasant phone call!"
"Speaking of that, he said the seal was broken? Does he intend you to fix it?"
"No, I suppose not. The other ones held, after all. But he figures we might as well teach him a thing or two since we have the opportunity. Might come in handy."
"As we've already seen."
"Shh, shh! It looks like he's coming to!"
Ichigo listened to the two men speak, somewhat disappointed when their conversation ended abruptly. Perhaps if they'd spoken a bit longer, he could've found out where he was, or what had happened to him...
That was it! He brought a heavy hand to his face, rubbing one of his eyes lazily as he recalled his last memories before losing consciousness. He'd been fighting that red-headed demon, Renji, on top of the school. Except in this case, it had been less of a fight and more of a massacre. Ichigo snorted ruefully; he wasn't accustomed to losing fights. Oddly enough, though, for all the injuries the strange man had just rattled off, his pride stung worse than any physical part of his body. His body...
Ichigo's eyes flew open and his hand shot to his chest as he sat up like a bolt, panting. He clutched at the robe that had been hung loosely over his shoulders, searching for the gash where Renji's sword had split his chest open. He found nothing but soft bandages covering smooth skin and a dull ache where the wound had been. Gingerly, he moved his right arm at the shoulder; the pain was gone there, too.
The fog of sleep clearing from his head, Ichigo began to look about himself. He'd been laid to rest on a small futon, surrounded on four sides by ropes and charms, candles lighted at each corner of the pallet. Even stranger, there appeared to be some sort of pale yellow light coloring the room; at first he thought it must be a filtered lampshade or colored lightbulb, but he couldn't find the source of the colored light. He looked curiously at his slightly discolored hand, opening and closing it as he marveled at the strange atmosphere.
From his left, he heard a man clear his throat. Ichigo turned his head toward the sound, seeing for the first time the owner of one of the voices he'd been hearing while he was still half-asleep. He was barely even middle-aged, with messy blond hair peeking out around his ears from beneath a green-and-white striped hat. Its wide, down-turned brim cast his eyes in shadow, rendering only half his face perfectly visible. The half Ichigo could see clearly was turned up in a welcoming grin lined with a five o'clock shadow. As for his clothing, he wore a loose-fitting green outfit and a black haori with white diamonds along the hem, that overall gave the messy impression that the man himself had just rolled out of bed. His feet were tucked solidly beneath his bottom as though he'd been waiting patiently for Ichigo to finally awaken.
Ichigo took a quick glance around the room. Hadn't there been two voices while he was out? All that was here now was this scruffy-looking man and a black cat.
"Good morning, Kurosaki Ichigo!" the cheerful-looking man finally said, snapping open a paper folding fan and causing Ichigo to jump a bit, "Well, technically, it's the evening, but the sentiment stands." Ichigo favored him with a confused scowl. About a thousand questions were running through his mind, but he decided to go with the obvious one first.
"Who're you?" he finally responded, openly staring at the man while he leaned his forehead into the palm of his hand. The other man's cheerfulness was a bit grating while he was still recovering his senses.
"Just a simple shopkeeper!" the man gave back happily, "I'm Urahara Kisuke, and you're in my shop." A shop? Of all the places, why would he be in a shop? Ichigo tried to make sense of it; what kind of shopkeeper dragged dying teenagers into a back room and healed them? The infuriatingly smiley kind, he supposed.
"I was dying," Ichigo observed stoically before turning back to Urahara, "You saved me, didn't you? Why?" It wasn't every day that strange men in even stranger hats happened upon one's dying carcass and nursed him back to health, after all.
"So harsh!" Urahara responded, feigning hurt, "Is this how you show gratitude? Ahh, well..." For a second, Ichigo almost thought he saw the cat beside Urahara roll its eyes as it sat back on its haunches and began to bathe one of its front paws.
"Okay, thank you," Ichigo said automatically, as if trying to get it out of the way, "So, why am I here?" Urahara slapped his fan against the palm of his hand, snapping it shut.
"I'm glad you asked, Kurosaki-san!" he chirped, "You're here to be trained, of course!" Ichigo stared at him openly then, his mouth hanging slightly open in shock.
"Trained?" he parroted mindlessly, "Trained for what?" He was starting to have a bad feeling about this, as if this had all been planned out ahead of time without anyone telling him.
"Well, you're a demon, aren't you?" Urahara said, almost off-handedly. Even though his voice was light and nonchalant as he said it, Ichigo noticed there was a hard undercurrent to his gaze. "To be honest, you're way behind other demons your age, so we're going to have to start with the basics, but I'm sure you've got a lot of potential!"
Ichigo's eye started to twitch. He didn't know what was more irritating: the fact that people kept referring to him as a demon, or the fact that he was apparently way behind the rest of the demon population. If they were going to call him one, they least they could do was not make him feel developmentally challenged.
"Look," Ichigo mumbled between his teeth, "I'm grateful you saved my life and all, but really, I'm not a demon. You've got the wrong guy." He put a hand to the futon upon which he laid and began to stand. Before he could really move from his position, though, a wave of lightheadedness passed over him, causing him to abandon that course of action.
"Ah ah ah," the blond man chided, "I don't advise getting up just yet. You lost quite a bit of blood and it hasn't all been replaced yet. But no, we don't have the wrong person at all. You are Kurosaki Ichigo, aren't you?" Ichigo cradled his head with the palm of his hand, glowering at Urahara.
"Yeah, I'm Kurosaki Ichigo," he said coolly, "But I'm human." Suddenly, to his astonishment, the black cat that had been washing itself beside Urahara moved forward, pinning him with its yellow gaze.
"You're stubborn, at the very least," the cat began to speak, causing Ichigo to gape in astonishment, "But you are a demon. Look at the facts subjectively. Surely even you know something's not quite human about you." The cat's voice was firm and masculine. Ichigo realized with a start that this was the other voice he'd heard through his earlier daze. He'd heard of familiars before, but this was ridiculous; were they actually supposed to talk? Either way, these two knew more about him than he was really comfortable with.
"Okay," he cautiously conceded, "Let's say some weird stuff has been happening to me over the past few days. What about it? What does it have to do with anything?" Urahara and his cat exchanged a look.
"Well, you could start by telling us how it started," Urahara said, turning back to him, "It'll help us decide the best course of action to take. I have a feeling that lieutenant back there had a few of his facts mixed up." Ichigo groaned, his face meeting the palm of his hand.
"You heard that?" Urahara's grin widened.
"Every word!" the shopkeeper said, perhaps a bit too happily for having just admitted he'd been eavesdropping.
"No one else was even there, but it seems like the whole damn town knows!" Ichigo groused to no one in particular, "Next thing you know, Dad'll pop up and congratulate me on the kills or something!" Ichigo couldn't see it, but he could swear Urahara raised an eyebrow under his hat.
"Oh, so that part was true!" he observed, a hint of mischief in his voice, "Well, at least you do have some potential!" There was a pause as Ichigo stared at the older man. He made it sound like such a good thing. "What I mean is, you fought four and made it out alive with no training. That's a good start." Ichigo snorted and rolled his eyes.
"What about the other part?" Urahara asked, his voice suddenly turning serious. Ichigo looked curiously over at him. Why did everyone seem to think he was the one who'd injured Inoue?
"No," Ichigo replied, his expression growing serious, "The guys I fought, I caught them in the act. Their leader was attacking her. The other three jumped me and the next thing I knew, I was tearing through them." Urahara looked thoughtful for a second, as though he recognized something.
"That must've been what caused it to break," he said, more for his own benefit than Ichigo's. He hated that he was being kept in the dark about so much. At the same time, he recalled the beating he'd gotten from those three thugs and how it had felt like something within him, something indeterminable, had broken. After that break, he'd felt the gush of power that had led him to plow through his opponents like a whirlwind.
"Ah well," Urahara finally said, waving his closed fan as he smiled disarmingly, "That's not important right now. What is important is that you've now got potential to realize!" Ichigo looked at Urahara with his eyebrow raised.
"You know, I'd really like to know what the hell is going on right now," Ichigo monotoned, casting a flat look towards the smiling blond man beside his futon.
"Right, right!" Urahara replied cheerily, "As I said before, Yoruichi and I are going to be your teachers from now on! Won't that be fun?" The black cat flicked his tail as Ichigo stared quizzically at him.
"You and your... familiar?" he asked incredulously. To be sure, he wasn't quite certain what the things did beyond accompanying their demonic masters. In any case, Urahara seemed to beam at him while the cat looked just as bored as any other cat throughout history.
"Exactly right! Good eye!" the older man said enthusiastically, "I apologize for not introducing you sooner. Kurosaki-san, this is my familiar, Yoruichi. Yoruichi will be instructing you in demonic history and lore. As for myself, I'll personally instruct you on how to handle your demonic abilities." Ichigo got the feeling he was going to have to decipher the evasive man's words.
"So... Remedial classes and teaching me how to fight?" He wasn't sure if he should be insulted or not. He wasn't slow by any stretch of the imagination, and he'd been getting in scuffles for years. For his part, Urahara looked as though he'd deflated a bit at that observation.
"Err, in so many words, yes!" he confirmed sheepishly, "Other demons begin training at a young age, so you've missed quite a lot." Ichigo sighed, defeated. It looked like there was no way he would get out of this.
"When do we start?" Ichigo asked reluctantly. At that, Urahara smiled and began to stand.
"I'm glad you asked!" he chirped, the happy facade beginning to grate on Ichigo a bit more, "We'll start first thing in the morning. You still need to stay in that healing barrier a while longer to regain your strength. Until then, Ururu can bring you some dinner." Ichigo almost asked to whom he was referring, but thought better of it; he had more pressing questions for him.
"Wait," Ichigo asked, looking up at the older man, "How long is this gonna take? My family will miss me." Urahara quirked an eyebrow at that, as if Ichigo had just said something odd.
"No," he replied evenly, "You shouldn't worry about that. We've already given them a suitable cover story." Ichigo wondered if there was something he'd missed. Either way, that was sufficient for now. After pausing for a few moments, he spoke again.
"And Inoue?" he said reluctantly, "She needs someone to look after her." This seemed to pique Urahara's interest, as well. Ichigo groaned inwardly; that girl really was too popular for her own good if even shady shopkeepers were taking an interest in her. Finally, Urahara broke into a wide - and somewhat unsettling, in Ichigo's opinion - grin.
"Oh, she's been provided for, as well," he finally answered, "Really, there's nothing for you to worry about."
"An answer like that would make me worry more," he retorted somewhat sourly. Urahara flicked open his paper fan to hide what Ichigo presumed was a snicker.
"That's very sweet of you, Kurosaki-san," Urahara offered, "But she'll be fine." That made Ichigo even more frustrated; just what exactly was this old man implying?
"Sweet, my ass," he grumbled under his breath, grabbing his pillow and considering chucking it at Urahara. Before he could put thought into action, though, Urahara and his cat slipped around the door frame, black haori flapping behind him as he went.
"Rest up," he called from the hallway, "You have a big day ahead tomorrow."
_______________________________________________________________________
Ichigo was unimpressed with Urahara's idea of a 'big day'. He'd been sent to a cavernous underground training room that resembled little more than a barren desert and given a folding desk and a rolling chalkboard by the black cat. Ichigo figured the desert part made sense, at least; if Urahara was going to teach him to use his abilities, he'd need open space without worrying about collateral damage.
But it was the chalkboard and his feline teacher that was confounding him. He stared at it, vaguely wondering how a cat would even write with chalk anyway, but sure enough, when it was rolled out, it already had writing on it. Maybe Urahara had written on it for him? Either way, he read the writing scratched onto the green slate. It was a list of the seven deadly sins.
"You should take notes," the cat said, pinning him with his yellow gaze, "You'll probably have to refer back to this in the future." Ichigo barely suppressed a snort.
"Is it really that much information?" he asked derisively. The cat seemed to roll its eyes.
"Considering you know less than a five year old demon child?" Yoruichi replied bluntly, causing Ichigo to bristle, "Today, we'll be starting with the basics of noble demon society. If you ever intend to be anything, you'll need to know this." Ichigo scowled and propped his head against his hand, tapping his pencil against the notepad he'd been provided with. He was sure the cat was exaggerating; it couldn't be that different from human society, could it?
Besides, what did the cat mean, 'ever intend to be anything'? He was going to graduate high school, go to college, and get a normal job, just like his classmates. Hell, he might even help his old man out at the clinic, if all else failed. Ichigo had no intention of staying mixed up with these people longer than he had to, demonic ability or not. Either way, he supposed he'd have to get through this before anything else.
"Fine, fine," he finally sighed, giving his attention over to the cat in front of him.
"We'll start with this," his teacher said, motioning to the blackboard with his tail, "Can you tell me what this is?" Ichigo raised an eyebrow; was the cat toying with him?
"The seven deadly sins," he droned back, "So what?" He could've sworn that cat snorted.
"That's what humans call them," the cat shot back, "In reality, these are the Seven Noble Houses of Hell." Ichigo could feel the confusion filtering into a scowl on his face. Renji had mentioned some kind of house, hadn't he? That cat's infuriatingly smug look didn't help matters any. However, he noticed that look change after several seconds.
"Are you taking notes?" the cat asked, looking for all the world like a dangerous predator. Ichigo lifted his chin from his hand, somewhat startled, and began scribbling on the paper before him.
"Sorry," he mumbled. The cat's tail twitched as he went back to pacing before the blackboard.
"To continue," Yoruichi started again, "Every member of the demonic nobility belongs to one of these seven houses. Usually, their personality dictates which house they belong to. We'll begin with the House of Pride." Ichigo scratched the notes down on his paper as Yoruichi spoke.
"As you can imagine, the defining personality trait belonging to this house is pride," Yoruichi continued, "Collectively, demons of Pride are known as Superbia. Singularly, they are called Superbus. They're usually reserved and aloof and have a very refined air about them. They're natural-born leaders, and it's not uncommon to find them in charge of things." Ichigo recalled that Renji had said he was from the House of Pride; somehow, those traits didn't seem to fit him at all.
"That's it?" he asked, disbelief in his voice, "How the hell am I supposed to recognize that?" The cat seemed to roll its eyes.
"You won't always recognize them on sight, or even from being around them," Yoruichi responded, as though this should have been patently obvious, "In fact, it's entirely possible for a demon to hide his or her alignment altogether, if they so wish. But you're getting ahead of me." Ichigo huffed and sat back in his chair.
"Next are demons of Lust," Yoruichi continued, ignoring his student's scowl, "Males of this house are known as Incubi, while females are called Succubi. The singular of that is Incubus and Succubus, of course. Not surprisingly, these seem to be the ones humans most commonly know about. Because so many different kinds of people can be considered attractive, these demons can be notoriously difficult to identify." Ichigo jotted the description down; he found his mind wandering and conjuring up an image of his red-headed, bespectacled classmate and her wandering hands. Well, at least this house would be easy to remember.
"Following that, we have demons of Gluttony," the cat went on, "Rather simply, these demons are known as Gluttons. As you would expect, most have a large frame. This doesn't necessarily mean they're out of shape, though; a great many of them pack quite a wallop." Ichigo couldn't help but picture a sumo wrestler as he took notes.
"Then there are the demons of Sloth. Collectively, these demons are known as Acedia; singularly, they're Acedians. They often look tired or sick or have a general air of malaise about them." Ichigo thought vaguely that these would probably be some of the easiest demons to take in a fight. Maybe if he had to fight one, he'd get a chance to find out.
"Next are the Leavites, demons of Envy. Because pride can be described as a kind of dominance, and envy as the desire for dominance, these two alignments are often at odds with each other. Some of the most competitive demons come from this house." A vague sense of recognition flitted across Ichigo's consciousness; there was something about that description that seemed familiar to him. He pushed it to the back of his mind while the familiar continued.
"Sixth, we have the demons of Greed, the Mammon. As you might imagine, these demons tend to amass things that interest them: wealth, knowledge, skills, lackeys, power. Like the Superbia, they too tend to rise easily to positions of influence." Something about the familiar's voice became a bit warmer at this description, almost nostalgic. Ichigo quirked an eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing, opting instead of scratch notes on his paper.
"Finally," the cat said, casting Ichigo a meaningful glance, "There are demons of Wrath, the Wraiths. These demons are marked by the intense desire for battle; some even regard it as outright bloodlust. During the Sengoku era, the Wraiths were prized for their prowess on the battlefield. Today, however, as the need for warriors has diminished, so too has their position in society." Ichigo barely caught the last part, though. Something in his mind had clicked at the feline teacher's words, as though a piece of a puzzle had fallen perfectly into place. Wraith. Somehow, the word and idea resonated with him, causing his heart to speed up and his breath to hitch. As he set his pencil against the paper again, he noticed that his hand had begun to tremble ever so slightly.
"There's one more class of demon, apart from those seven divisions," Yoruichi continued, shifting Ichigo's attention back to the familiar's voice, "That being the Ronin. As I'm sure you've already discovered, these demons don't belong to any noble house or family and have no designation. Perhaps their blood is too thin to qualify for nobility, or their power too frail; either way, they aren't strong enough to enter any of the seven houses. Quite a few are rogues and vagabonds, living outside the laws that bind noble demons." Ichigo felt his teeth grind as Yoruichi described them; the memories of the four ronin in the alleyway flooded his mind unbidden, almost distracting him from writing the information into his notes.
"Do you have any questions?" the cat asked abruptly. Ichigo finished writing and put his pencil down, looking over the notes he'd taken.
"So," he said, his words coming slowly, thoughtfully, "This information is helpful and all, but... what practical use does it have? I mean, do these 'designations' or whatever actually do anything other than give us names to call the demons?" As far as Ichigo could see, this information was nice, but fairly useless.
"That's our next lesson," the cat replied, ears flicking. Ichigo flipped to the next sheet of paper in his notebook, a bored look on his face.
"A demon's designation not only tells us a bit about their personality," Yoruichi continued, seemingly ignoring his pupil as he spoke, "It tells us how they acquire and store their demonic power; in some cases, it might even give you a clue as to their weakness. If you think about it, the things they draw power from should be simple enough to figure out, depending on their type. Would you like to give it a shot?" With that, the cat turned back to Ichigo, fixing him with his yellow feline gaze.
"Lust demons probably get their power from sex," he mumbled, his face coloring. He wouldn't have even gone for that one except that it was the most obvious one of all. Either way, Yoruichi sniffed and seemed to roll his eyes.
"Of course they do," the cat responded, "That one was easy enough. The rest may be more difficult."
"Demons of Sloth, as the word implies, gain their power by sleeping and resting." The question that had been itching at Ichigo's mind from before finally made its way to his lips.
"So does that mean they're weak or something?" he asked unbidden. That caused Yoruichi to turn sharply towards him, his look turning cool.
"Don't make that mistake," Yoruichi snapped, "No one classification of demon is any weaker than the others. Finding yourself on the wrong side of an angry Acedian can be just as bad as facing down a Wraith or a Leavite. The reason they rest so much isn't because they're weak or lazy; it's because they have the ability to expend a lot of power at once." Ichigo looked at his paper, casting his eyes downward. As little as he liked his teacher, the reprimand had certainly been humbling.
"Sorry, Sensei," he mumbled, not meeting the cat's eyes. For a second, Yoruichi looked a bit startled; it passed quickly as he regained his former smug air.
"Don't be," the cat replied, "It's a rookie mistake." With that, Yoruichi went right back to the topic at hand, as though he'd never been interrupted.
"Now that we've taken care of the easy ones, let's get into some of the harder houses to grasp. In alignment with their cardinal sin, the demons of Pride draw their energy from their dominance and air of control; in short, from their sense of pride. Power lends itself to greater power. The obvious inverse of this would be something that breaks pride or humbles; hence what I meant by seeing the weakness held within each designation." Ichigo's mind flashed to the image of the short, black-haired girl from earlier jamming his head into a wall with her fist. Well, that certainly made sense.
"Demons of Envy, on the other hand, merely need to compete for dominance. Since the feeling of envy stems from perceiving a lack within oneself, demons of this persuasion gain power by competing successfully against others. If you can find the root of their insecurity, it's easy to chip away at their defenses."
"Gluttons aren't as obvious as they seem at first glance. Yes, some can gain power through eating food; some, unfortunately, can take this a step further and use things like material objects, souls, or even the power of other demons to give themselves power."
"Another subtle twist on the sin that spawned them, the Mammon not only gain power by amassing money and valuables, but by amassing anything that interests them. Knowledge, power, influence, friends, lovers, all of these can be sources of power for Greed demons."
Finally, Yoruichi turned back to Ichigo, a shrewd look in his eyes. He finished writing notes and looked up to meet the cat's yellow eyes.
"And how do you think the demons of Wrath gain power, Ichigo?" Yoruichi asked pointedly.
"Through fighting," he answered automatically. Ichigo didn't even have to think about it; the answer rolled right off his tongue, unbidden, as though it was written into his DNA. He started for a second, a bit weirded out that he knew it that easily. After a second, though, his surprise faded, replaced by a dull recognition: this is what he was. He knew it as surely as he knew what color his hair was and what direction the sun came up in the morning. It was instinctive.
"Very good, Ichigo," the cat said, seeming to smile at the words. For a second, the room was quiet.
"Hey," Ichigo finally interrupted, "I have a question." The cat cocked its head to the side, ears flicking.
"Yes?"
"So... These houses," he began, his words coming slowly and thoughtfully, "Do you have to belong to that, ahh... designation to belong to the house?" It was an odd question, but that was the best way he could phrase it. There was something that made him think that the two demons he'd encountered earlier couldn't possibly belong be the same kind of demon.
"No," Yoruichi answered, confirming his suspicion, "Once you attain an official title in the house of your designation, you can either choose to stay there or you can move to another of the main houses or to a private house." The wheels in Ichigo's head turned half a degree. He'd known there was no way Rukia and Renji were the same type. From the descriptions given, he could guess Rukia was a Pride demon - a Superbus. He felt a bit frustrated that even though he'd fought Renji, he couldn't make a good guess as to what he was. His first instinct was to think he was a Wraith, but something told him that didn't exactly fit. Whatever he was, he wasn't originally from the House of Pride.
Once that was cleared up, Ichigo's teacher turned back to his blackboard, pointing out more notes and continuing with the lesson. Suddenly, this stuff seemed much more interesting to him than he ever thought it might.
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"What's this?"
Ichigo held his hands out to catch the studded leather strap Urahara had tossed to him. As he studied it, he realized it was just long enough to fit around his wrist and snap - a plain brown leather wristband with a skull engraved into it. He couldn't quite decide if the design was tacky or... stylish.
"Put it on!" The shopkeeper was making shooing motions with his paper fan, a wide grin on his face. "I picked it out myself!"
Casting the shady blond a skeptical look, Ichigo pulled the leather around his wrist and snapped it. As soon as he heard the metallic 'click' of the snaps, he felt something cool wash over his body, as though he'd walked into an air conditioned room after being in the heat all day. He hadn't even noticed before he put it on that his senses had been on overdrive since that night in the alley; now his eyesight, hearing, and sense of smell seemed to immediately go back to what he considered normal, comfortable, human. His eyes widened as he stared, disbelieving, at the brown leather band in place on his wrist.
"What did it... do?" Ichigo asked, nearly dumbstruck. For his part, Urahara was grinning smugly.
"It's an inhibitor, or a limiter," Urahara said proudly. Ichigo's eyebrows shot up at the word; hadn't Renji and the demon in the alleyway both said something about that?
"Aha, I thought so," Urahara continued, snapping his fan shut, "Do you understand what it is now? From the look on your face, I suspect you have some idea." Ichigo continued to regard the wristband with something akin to wonder.
"I feel... human again," he remarked, turning it this way and that.
"I imagine you do," Urahara remarked, pulling over a cushion and bending his legs beneath him to sit on it, "That's the purpose of an inhibitor. You feel human, you look human; to others, you no longer have a demonic aura that they can sense." Ichigo's brow began to crease as he thought.
"If demons are that much more powerful than humans, why do we need to pretend we are human?" Ichigo asked. The odd contradiction confused him a bit; it wasn't that he wanted to run around oppressing people with his new-found powers or anything, but it really didn't make sense to him. Why hide if you already ran everything?
"Because it's civilized," Urahara replied simply, "Put another way, the longer the demon race spent in the human world, the more their culture was changed by humanity. Besides that, it allows you to go about your business without attracting attention or other demons looking for a fight."
He had definitely attracted attention without one, Ichigo recalled ruefully. An image of Renji came unbidden into his mind. With a start, realization dawned on Ichigo.
"Then those goggles Renji was wearing..." The scene replayed in Ichigo's head. As soon as Renji had removed those goggles, his demon form had materialized! Was this how Ichigo was supposed to access his when he needed it?
"Good eye," Urahara noted, a sly look on his face, "Yes, his goggles were his limiter. You might also have noticed that he was instantly able to use his demonic powers when he took them off." Ichigo nodded; oh, had he ever noticed.
"That's because the inhibitor acts as a dam of sorts," Urahara explained, leaning back on his hand and fanning himself lazily with his paper fan, "While you have it on, it holds back your power, kind of like charging a battery. Once you take it off, you're able to expend that power as you see fit. Others will be able to notice it, too: It's like shouting in a quiet room." Ichigo's eyes narrowed a bit.
"That's why all those people were giving me dirty looks," he grumbled. Aside from Rukia and Renji, he knew two others had been staring oddly at him that morning. At the moment, though, he found himself completely unable to recall their faces. Frustrated, he stared blankly at his new wristband.
"With your pleasant demeanor, I can't imagine anyone giving you dirty looks, Kurosaki-san!" Urahara retorted happily, causing Ichigo to turn and glare in his direction, "But yes, they could most likely sense you." Ichigo snorted before looking back at his wrist.
"So when I take this back off," he started contemplatively, "I'll automatically be able to draw my sword, like Renji did." Urahara cocked his head to the side, giving Ichigo a curious look.
"If you want," the blond replied casually, "I'll show you how to do that, as well. First, though, you need to rest a bit to build up your demonic energy. After that, we'll begin your training."
_____________________________________________________________________
Orihime propped her chin in her hands and leaned her elbows on her knees. She'd flopped down on the cold, damp concrete steps of the school to wait for Sado-kun, but as it began to chill her bottom, she wondered if that was really such a good idea.
A week. It had been a whole week since Kurosaki-kun had disappeared. School was dull without him and his scowling face and colorful hair. Every day, Orihime opened the door to the classroom, hoping he'd finally be back at his desk, and every day this week she'd been disappointed. The rest of the day after that moment was spent staring idly at the clock and waiting for it to signal the end of the school day. She had been tempted a few times to check his family's clinic to see if he was back yet, but every time she almost got the gumption to do it, her shyness would hamstring her.
Instead, at the end of every school day, Sado-kun would silently walk her home. He'd done this consistently every day since Kurosaki-kun had disappeared a week before. Now it was Friday, and Orihime found herself absentmindedly wondering if she might ask him if he knew anything. Surely Sado-kun would know when he was coming back, right? They were best friends, weren't they?
Maybe she could ask him when he came back. Different from the other days during the past week, Chad had excused himself as soon as class let out to make a stop at the vending machines before they set out. Orihime had told him she'd wait for him out on the front steps. As she rubbed her legs to warm them, though, she wondered if that had really been such a good idea with the cool weather. Maybe she should start wearing tights under her school skirt again, at least until it got warmer?
Orihime was drawn from her reverie by the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs towards her. She looked up, half-expecting to see Chad.
"Good afternoon, Inoue-san," the newcomer called, his voice loud enough to be heard but not quite loud enough to attract anyone else's attention. Orihime smiled kindly at him, not minding the intrusion at all.
"Oh! Good afternoon," she called back sweetly.
"Waiting for someone?" His voice was politely curious. Orihime didn't mind indulging his curiosity at all.
"Oh, yes! Sado-kun is going to get a drink before he walks me home!"
"Ahh. Before you go, do you think you could help me with something?" Orihime lifted her head; this would be a good way to kill time until Sado-kun returned!
"Sure!" she chirped, standing and dusting her skirt off as she followed the young man away from the school.
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In the week he'd been at Urahara's shop, Ichigo had made good use of the underground fighting chamber beneath the store. After learning how to use his limiter and how to draw his sword at will, he'd spent a good deal of time sparring with Urahara. Most of his days were consumed by Yoruichi's lessons, learning about history, bylaws, and demon physiology, so the chance to stretch his legs and exercise was always welcome.
Friday afternoon had been no different. He'd unsnapped his wristband, immediately materializing his black outfit and nodachi in a burst of red light and then spent the following half hour trying to score a hit on Urahara with it. The older man was frustratingly elusive, blocking any blows that Ichigo almost managed to land with his sword-cane. Immediately following those blows, Ichigo would usually find himself face-down on the hard-packed dirt of the training room.
It was after one such blow that Ichigo finally pushed himself off the ground and dove at Urahara with such speed and intensity that he finally, finally managed to almost strike his head. This time, instead of blocking with his sword-cane, Urahara tipped his head to the side, allowing Ichigo's sword to narrowly miss him. As the black blade streaked past his ear, it took Urahara's green and white striped hat with it.
"Yes!" Ichigo hissed, grinning triumphantly. A second too late, he realized that Urahara was grinning now as well. Only now, instead of their normal, placid gray color, his eyes were glowing red. In the second it took Ichigo's mind to process what he'd just seen, he was knocked across the room and flat on his back into a large rock.
Pulling himself out of the rubble and coughing, Ichigo wiped his face and cursed. He looked up to see Urahara sauntering towards him, dusting his hat off before placing it back on his shaggy head. His usual lopsided grin back in place, he extended his cane towards Ichigo as his geta clacked against the dirt.
"Another round for me," he said cheerfully as his student pushed himself up off the ground, sputtering. Before Ichigo could protest, though, he spotted one of Urahara's assistants, a red-haired boy named Jinta, running across the training room towards them. He was out of breath, a scowl on his face, and clutching a rolled up piece of paper tightly.
"What is it, Jinta-kun?" Urahara asked, looking over his shoulder at the boy. The young assistant stopped and placed his hands on his knees, catching his breath. Once he was satisfied with his breathing again, he extended his arm to Ichigo, shoving the roll of paper into his dirty face.
"Someone shot this through the store window!" the boy yelled indignantly, glaring at the paper. Ichigo's eyebrows rose as he took it from him.
"How could they shoot a piece of paper through a window?" he asked absentmindedly, unrolling the note.
"With an arrow, duh! Tessai's pissed!" Ichigo held back the urge to punt the boy as his eyes began rapidly scanning the note.
"Language, Jinta-kun," Urahara mumbled, giving the boy a small whack in the shin with his cane. Ichigo ignored them as his eyes widened at the contents of the note.
Kurosaki Ichigo,
If you would like to see your Mark again, you will meet me at the location designated at the bottom of this letter at sundown. If you do not, I cannot guarantee her safety.
At the bottom of the note were directions to a park Ichigo recognized as being close to his school. More troublesome than that, though, was that word Renji had used again - Mark. He realized with a chill what the letter was telling him.
Someone had taken Inoue.
