Title: Limit
Author: alstair
Pairing: Ichigo x Ishida Uryuu; Hollow Ichigo x Ichigo
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst, swearing, boysex, masturbation
Status: Incomplete
Summary: Ichigo and Ishida grapple with issues
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns Bleach and the characters of Bleach
Beta:
Hitokiri Musei As promised, here is the next installment of Limit. A big thanks to Hitokiri Musei for doing the beta on this chapter and I hope my regular beta
fishingforboots' laptop gets fixed soon.
Part I: Escapism and DenialPart II: ConsummationPart III: Guilt and Aftershock Part IV: Bitterness and Lies
Oh, what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practice to deceive!
- Sir Walter Scott
Bitterness 0.01 - Ishida
Monday, the following week, 8:20am
Just another day.... This is just another day....
But do I really still believe that everything is right, that everything is as perfect as it was then and will always be? How long since the words just another day became a mantra necessary to survival? Time stopped when you left me in my room to figure out my tangled emotions and broken body--and it hasn't started since.
Ishida walked resolutely towards his desk. It had been almost a week since Ichigo had stopped coming to class. A quick glance at the still empty seat told Ishida that today was no exception. From what he'd heard from Inoue, Ichigo was nowhere to be found. It wasn't just in school. The Shinigami wasn't around--anywhere. Inoue had said she'd gone to the Kurosaki clinic and had been told by a tearful Yuzu that her Ichi-nii hadn't come home in almost a week. And that the last time he'd been home he had looked so deathly ill and refused to eat that she'd been afraid they'd have to send him to Karakura General Hospital. No one apparently knew his whereabouts. Not that Ishida had bothered to ask anyone. His pride wouldn't let him. What he knew he'd only overheard in the bits and pieces of conversation he'd chanced upon when passing by the halls or from what Inoue, who had taken it up to herself to keep Ishida informed, tearfully confided in him.
Seated, Ishida felt his irritation rise. Clenching his fist, he fought to keep it from reaching his face. He hated having anything break the careful mask he'd constructed. And lately the sight of the seat normally occupied by the orange-head grated on his nerves, made him want to lash out. Its emptiness yawned wide, mocking him.
Today, however, was different. It was more than the usual irritation that brought to his mouth its bitter aftertaste. Seated there amidst the laughter of high schoolers without a care in the world he knew that the events of the previous evening, coupled with the sight of that still empty chair, were slowly taking him to that precarious edge he had vowed never to cross.
While dimly aware that Ms. Ochi had just entered the room he recalled how he had gone out at night to the convenience store when he'd felt the sudden spike of that unmistakable reiatsu. And he had trembled. But it was not because he was scared. No. A Quincy is never scared. He had trembled in want...and in need. He had realized with a start that he missed the way that reiatsu had curled about his body that night.
And the growing realization that it wasn't just the attraction? lust? ...sex? that he missed was unhinging him.
He remembered how his heart had skipped a beat, causing his movements to falter. He remembered how he'd clutched the small plastic bag of supplies he'd been carrying. He remembered how he had wanted to use hirenkyaku to transport himself to where he felt the beginnings of a fight.
Yet his feet had remained firmly planted on the ground.
And then of course the world caught up to him. Or more precisely, that unusual hollow and Ryuuken had.
And that was another problem he'd have to sort out. Another headache. He wanted the power Ryuuken--his father--had offered to return to him. Oh how he wanted it. Ever since he'd lost it in Soul Society, even though he knew what he'd risked when he'd removed the glove on his hand, he'd felt incomplete. As though some part of him had died in that other place and he'd never recovered it since. But this man he'd barely ever conceded as a father was offering to return what he'd lost.
Except was he willing to pay the price?
Do I really want to break my ties with Kurosaki--forever? Even if I can have my powers back? Even if I can be whole again? Is...forgetting...that idiot too much to ask? ...Or is it that can I even forget?
Ishida clasped his hands tighter. He felt the tips of his fingers bite into his flesh, making moon-shaped depressions. It hurt. But the pain was not unwelcome. He needed it to refocus himself. It would do him no good to think about it now. The answer would come readily enough when the time came. So Ishida clenched his hands tighter until he felt the slight tingle on his skin brought about by the lack of blood circulation. It was only then he relaxed his grip but not too much that the pressure his fingertips exerted were lost.
In front, Ms. Ochi finished her usual morning roll call. Perhaps later Ishida would realize that it wasn't exactly her usual roll call because today, unlike the previous days, she consciously left out Kurosaki Ichigo from the names she'd called out. Perhaps if he had been paying enough attention to the process and not merely tuning it out, filtering it as routine, he would not have been as surprised by the announcement she made after attendance had been called. But he had not. And her words were the signal that began the spiral, releasing the dam of his emotions.
"As of today, Kurosaki Ichigo will no longer be attending this school."
All around him, Ishida could hear the murmurs of his classmates. He saw heads leaned towards each other, unmindful of the other announcements being made, their faces openly shocked or ridiculing. But all that reached him were words broken and incomplete as though through a badly tuned radio.
"...withdrawn...?"
"...didn't hear anything...."
"...left town...."
The news would make its rounds of school soon enough. The vultures would come and pick at the bones. And where their voices would not reach their eyes would betray their confusion, puzzlement, and for some, derision. Ishida closed his eyes, trying to block out the sights and the sounds.
Kurosaki....Is this...what you really want? Was it because you couldn't face me that you decided to leave? Do I not even have the right to be heard out? Or do you not care at all what I think?
From behind him he could hear the quiet sobs of Inoue. He wanted to reach out and take her hand just as she had done once for him before. But just as he had been last night, he found he could not move. His fingers continued to grip his flesh tightly, hands clenched tight. His ears rang.
But the end was not yet in sight.
There was no count down, no gradual fading. All there was an abrupt stop, an abrupt absence. It was as if someone had decided to suddenly put down a set of blinders so that he could not see, could not feel. The reiatsu that had been in flux since that evening, that reiatsu that had assaulted him in the silence of his room as the hands, tongue, and body of that man had travelled over his most intimate of areas, simply vanished. One moment it was there, the next it was gone--as though the person it belonged to had simply ceased to exist.
Swallowing to alleviate the sudden dryness of his throat, Ishida called up reiraku. Slowly, he watched the strands of spirit thread unfurl. And amidst the maze of white threads he hunted for a glimpse of the distinctive red thread that was Ichigo's and Ichigo's alone.
Except the usual red strand was conspicuously absent among the white threads of reiraku he'd materialized before him.
Ishida refused to acknowledge the absence, refused to acknowledge the thought that had lodged itself in his mind the moment he felt the familiar pressure on his body evaporate like water suddenly subjected to temperatures beyond boiling point. This wasn't like that time, before that act, when he thought he'd failed to notice Ichigo's normally uncontrollable reiatsu. This time he'd been painfully aware of each minute fluctuation in the Shinigami's reiatsu, especially after last night's and that night's incident. It was as if by virtue of having had sex with the idiot he'd somehow tuned in, entered into some realm of sympathetic vibrations, and felt in an almost palpable way each and every rise and dip in the other's spirit force like undulations within his very body, within his core. And whereas for the past few days the level had been unusually low, unusually diffuse so much so he could not pinpoint exact locations except for that one spike, for it to simply disappear....
Ishida gripped the edge of his table to prevent himself from casting another materialization in the hopes that perhaps somehow that telltale red had returned among the white.
The sudden weight of a hand touching his shoulder, however, snapped him back. It was only then that he realized that he was no longer sitting behind his desk.
"Ishida, the announcement must really have shocked you!"
Ishida swiveled to face Ms. Ochi. It felt as if his body was not his own, the heaviness of it a strange sensation. Each movement seemed to be done as though underwater. Yet it felt distant, as though he were somewhere else watching his body moving from afar. And it was from this vantage that he realized with a start that many of his classmates were staring fixedly at him, mouths agape. What expression did his face wear? He was not sure anymore. Ishida grit his teeth together and with a brief nod sank back into his seat.
Stop it, Ishidia Uryuu. Why should you care? What does it matter to you if that idiot disappears? What does it matter if that rapist never came back? Ishida hated the fact that he cared so much about that Shinigami. He hated the fact that even though his body had smarted from the rough sex, from the feeling of the hard manhood of the Shinigami tearing into his very being, he couldn't find it in his heart to hate the man. Indeed, the very opposite could be said to be true.
Somehow he managed to freeze his features into something resembling his normal mask. However there was no calming the pounding of his heart. It beat loudly, pressing against his chest in an attempt to break free. A quick glance told him he wasn't the only one who had noticed the change. The tightness around Sado’s eyes and the unnatural wideness in Inoue’s betrayed their understanding. However unlike Kurosaki who was a Shinigami neither he, Inoue, nor Sado had the ability to leave their bodies to ascertain the situation no matter how much they might wish it.
And, no matter how much he might deny the fact to himself, wish it Ishida certainly did.
Bitterness 0.02 - Inoue
Monday, the following week 8:25am
Inoue looked at his back. Even from where she sat she could feel the tension in him, a tightly coiled spring ready to lash out at the slightest provocation. She knew that he, perhaps more than she or Sado-kun did, felt the sudden absence of Kurosaki-kun's reiatsu. She wished she could comfort him--never mind that she herself was at the point of tears--and that she could say that it would be alright, that somehow Kurosaki would be back with then as he always was, brave, confident, and with so much life in him. But she was afraid. Somehow she felt that she'd never be able to see him again. That even if Kurosaki-kun hadn't really died whatever it was that had happened, was happening, was tantamount to it.
And if he was indeed dead...she knew he would take with him her smiles, and perhaps even her life, to the next world.
Bitterness 0.03 - Ishida
Monday, the following week, 12:15pm
One hour. One hour was not much time but at least it was better than nothing. It was better than having to wait agonizing hour after agonizing hour for the bell that finally dismissed them at the end of the day. Ishida had had enough of the waiting. He had had enough of his noninterference. To hell with his damned Quincy pride. If Ichigo wouldn't come to him he would find that idiot even if it meant combing through the entirety of Karakura with a fine tooth comb.
Neither was death an issue. If that idiot Shinigami had somehow died he would simply ask Urahara to transport him to Soul Society so he could search through the town for that bastard himself.
Urahara...
The thought made him stop in midstep. If anyone knew what was going on in Karakura it was Urahara Kisuke. Ishida had no idea who or what that other man was but he had certainly proved to be more than knowledgeable about the whereabouts of the various Shinigami. Too knowledgeable in fact.
And if Urahara Kisuke did not know where Kurosaki was then no one else would.
Even though it was lunch the door of Urahara shoten was firmly closed. Jinta and Ururu were nowhere in sight, the courtyard windswept and devoid of movement or of life. Suspicions heightened, Ishida banged his fist into the wooden door, demanding entrance, knowing full well the manager of that mysterious shop was somewhere within the building having felt the man’s reiatsu from within.
It was a full five minutes before the head of the shopkeeper poked out of the door to meet an irritated and impatient Ishida.
"What can I do for you, Ishida-kun? And shouldn't you be in school right about now?"
Ishida moved past the manager into the shop proper. Urahara calmly shrugged his shoulders and ushered him to the table where two teacups, steam still rising from their lips, lay in wait--almost as if the manager was waiting for his arrival. Taking one in his hand, Ishida looked the man over. By all intents and purposes this man just looked like any other on the street, even with the oddity that was his hat and his slippers. But beneath the seeming normality was a hidden secret Ishida had yet to uncover or fully fathom.
Still, that would have to wait another day.
Ishida faced the shop manager squarely and asked. "Urahara-san, where is Kurosaki?"
He watched the brows of the man before him furrow, as though thinking hard. Did that mean even Urahara Kisuke did not know the whereabouts of the Shinigami? Impossible. With as much dealings as he had with Shinigami surely this man knew--and surely this man had sensed the sudden disappearance of that all-too-special reiatsu. And even though he knew little about the history of the man he knew they both shared the curiosity and the intelligence that demanded that the truth behind phenomena be revealed through empirical study and logic. He knew the man before him would certainly not let such a phenomena rest until he knew the answers.
Some minutes passed before Urahara uncrossed his arms and looked at Ishida from beneath the brim of his hat. He picked up the cup before him and took a sip, savoring its taste with the languid air of a man with a lot of time in his hands. Yet when he finally spoke up it was with a measured tone, as though weighing each and every word.
"Whatever makes you believe that I would know where Kurosaki-kun is?"
But before Ishida could say anything, the shoji screen that separated the store-front from the rest of the building slid open to reveal the very man Ishida wanted to see.
As their eyes met he saw Kurosaki stiffen, whatever words on the Shinigami's lips dead leaving his mouth partially open. The furrowing of his orange brows had deepened. But more than anything, Ishida recognized the emotion that flickered behind those brown eyes. It was fear. Why was Kurosaki afraid of him? Shouldn't it be the other way around?
Forgetting the tea, the table, and Urahara seated across from him, Ishida rose and crossed the room, grabbing the Shinigami by the wrists just as the latter tried to make a hasty retreat back where he came from. From beneath his hands he could feel the warmth of the other boy's skin. But there was none of the usual electricity of reiatsu battling reiatsu. In fact, the slight wince he saw the Shinigami try to cover up as he held onto him told a different story.
But all he could manage to say was, "Why?"
Ichigo briefly closed his eyes. And when he looked back at Ishida there was none of the hesitancy and trepidation that had previously marked it. Instead it was deadly serious. And his "It has nothing to do with you" bore the stamp of that same icy determination.
In contrast Ishida felt as though he were some woman begging her lover not to leave her for another. It lent an icy undertone to his own retort. "Shouldn't I have a right to know? Especially after what you did to me that night?"
Behind them Urahara's eyebrow rose up, interest piqued. But neither of them saw nor cared. All that mattered was the person in front of him.
And it was to the unspoken question that Ichigo responded.
"You were handy. That's all."
Ishida felt his grip loosen at the revelation. And the Shinigami took the opportunity to break free with a jerk of his arm. And before Ishida could compose himself and demand a further explanation the orange-head had disappeared, leaving him alone with his despair.
Bitterness 0.04 - Ichigo
Monday, the following week, 12:30pm
It was done. From the moment he put on the collar he had, in more ways than one, ceased to exist. Try as he might, he no longer felt any reiatsu--not that he had that much of a sensing ability in the first place but he no longer felt Chad, the one person whose reiatsu he could feel.
If only this worked on him as well...
Ichigo fingered the cold black metal that now encased his throat and almost like a ghost over his hand, felt his Other probing the metal band. It would have been too good to be true if this simple device was all it took to hold back the demon in him but he knew better. He knew, even without his Other's subtle reminders, that this was not the case...would never be the case. Try as he might, no matter how much he denied it, his Other would always be there smirking at him, his paper white skin filling all his senses. As if in retribution for this act of deception that Other's voice had become deafening, that Other's presence suffocating in its closeness. It was as if, by dampening his reiatsu, some important barrier that had previously held back that beast within had snapped open.
He wished to endanger no one anymore, least of all Ishida. Indeed, since the events of that night he had come to realize that of all the people he wished to endanger no more it had been the Quincy who had time and time again presented himself before Ichigo. Clenching his fists, feeling the pain of his bones bruising with the pressure, Ichigo renewed his vow never to allow Shirosaki to hurt anyone again. He had to get away from Karakura now. Except Urahara had stubbornly said that it could not be done until that evening. In the meanwhile, Ichigo was free to fill his boredom however he wished. The only injunction had been to refrain from removing the collar otherwise all their efforts to try and mask his disappearance, especially after last night's escapade, would go down the drain.
He did not need a second telling.
No. In the moments before he'd snapped on that thin strip of ... titanium? ... around his neck, his inner hollow had attempted to rebel. For a second he'd come undone, his body going rigid as he once more lost control over his motor functions. Even now, he still felt his muscles involuntarily stiffen. The voice that filled his mind dripped with loathing and hate.
So King, you think this will end it all, huh? Ha! Don't be a fool. There will never be an end until you accept the fact that you are mine and that nothing you do will change that fact. Even this...this thing around your neck will do nothing to protect you from me.
"I know that!" Ichigo gripped his head in his hands, his body sinking down into the tatami flooring of the room. More quietly he repeated the words to himself. "I know that." He knew full well that there was no escaping the bastard Hollow in him. And what of Shinji and his offer? Ichigo did not know what to think. Could he truly trust the man? Was there truly a way to preserve his sanity even if he could not banish the evil that lurked within his being?
A sudden thought came over Ichigo. Maybe Urahara knew Shinji. Urahara seemed to know much of what happened so why not? It was worth a try. Standing up from where he was seated, Ichigo crossed the room into the deserted inner hallway. Despite having stayed with Urahara over the past few days he still found the layout of the shoten rather confusing. Knowing that the manager would be somewhere at the front of his shop minding the wares he made his way over there, sliding open the shoji screen that separated the inner parts of the house from the store.
That was when he saw him. At first he hadn't recognized Ishida. He had not expected the Quincy to be there. But when he had, he felt a sudden tightening in his chest. He recalled what he'd done to the Quincy the last time they had been anywhere near each other. He recalled how much he had wanted Ishida. That what had happened wasn't just the result of a targeted act of malevolence on the part of his inner Hollow but something that was born from his own desires.
A chill ran down Ichigo's spine, cold sweat dripping down from his shoulder blades to the crook of his back. But before he could make it back inside he felt the cold hands of the Quincy wrap around his wrists, arresting his movement.
It wasn't just the physical restraint however that held Ichigo in place. The other boy's reiatsu crawled over his skin and like electricity streaked upwards from their point of contact. Ichigo had not expected that because his own reiatsu had been suppressed, the other's reiatsu would affect him so. As it is it was as if a whip had been laid on his flesh, making him wince.
From the haze of pain he dimly heard Ishida demand of him "Why?"
Trying to get away from the pain and his Hollow Other's malicious voice taunting him, he closed his eyes. Even though he had yet to completely sort out all his feelings for Ishida one thing was clear to Ichigo. Why? Because I wanted you to be free of any further pain. I didn't want anything to happen to you anymore--not to you, not to anybody, and certainly not by my hands because of my Other's depravity. Why? Because staying by your side would be tantamount to hurting you again.
"It has nothing to do with you," Ichigo replied.
He could see the pain that filled Ishida's normally disciplined countenance in direct conflict with the ice in the other's voice. The way the hands imperceptibly tightened around his wrists, the way the other’s eyes widened ever so slightly….
It was then he realized what he needed to do. Perhaps wounding you is the only way to preserve you.
Responding to the unspoken question, Ichigo said, "You were handy. That's all."
Feeling the grip on his wrists relenting, Ichigo pried himself loose. And before Ishida had a chance to recover from his shock and hurt--yes, he had deeply wounded the Quincy by his words--he disappeared behind the screen and behind the kido barrier that Urahara had earlier placed as a ward and an illusion that the place warded was deserted. Behind it Ichigo slumped against the wall.
I’m sorry Ishida. I’m sorry. I would rather you live and that you experience no further pain. So forgive me this final and irrevocable act of deception.