Unspeakable, chapter 7
Author: honey_mellon
Title: Unspeakable
Rating: R
Pairing: Urahara Kisuke, Kurosaki Ichigo
Warnings: Nothing you wouldn't expect from an R-rated yaoi fiction
Summary: Eighteen months after the fall of Aizen Sosuke, Ichigo struggles to get used to his new, "normal" life. But it isn't easy to forget, not when you've gone through so much.
COMMUNITY DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations in this post/fanfiction/fanart (including material in the comments) are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
Author's Note:
It took me longer than usual to write this chapter because I'm super depressed. Why? Because I read chapter 502. *wipe tears* Thanks Nila101 for putting up with my email spams over the weekend. *hugs*
"Ichigo, meet Riruka." A teenage girl with a head of long, obnoxious magenta hair styled in pigtails scowled at Ichigo.
Ginjo gestured to an older gentleman with an eyepatch. "Giriko." The man nodded at Ichigo, his expression neither welcoming nor hostile, his hands busy wiping down the wine glass in his hands even though it was already gleaming under the light.
"Jackie." A tall, lean woman with tanned skin and chin-length black hair flicked a wrist dismissively in his general direction. He supposed it could pass as a wave.
Pointing to a short, blond-haired boy, Ginjo said, "And finally, Yukio." The boy gave Ichigo a disinterested look through half-lidded eyes, then immediately turned back to his PlayStation Vita.
Friendly lot, Ichigo noted. His fists clenched involuntarily as he eyed the strange group warily.
If Ginjo noticed the boy's tense appearance, he didn't show it. Instead, he went on as though everything was fine and dandy, "Everyone, this is Ichigo." He didn't seem discouraged when his companions merely shot him a bored look.
Ichigo's internal alarm bells had been going off ever since he dialed the number on the name card. He knew this was probably the stupidest, and possibly most dangerous, thing he'd done in a long time, but after the nightmare he had last night, something had snapped inside him.
It was time to stop moping around and actually do something, and Ginjo was giving him the chance to do it. He had no idea what Ginjo had planned, but at this point Ichigo was willing to try anything.
Ginjo didn't sound surprised when he finally got on the phone this morning. He simply greeted Ichigo in a pleasant voice and gave him directions to an apartment building in the neighboring town. It had taken Ichigo almost an hour to find the place after school, but after taking multiple wrong turns, he managed to find it in the end.
"So, how are we gonna do this?" he asked, unable to completely conceal the skepticism in his tone. "And why do you want to help me?"
Before Ginjo could reply, Riruka rolled her eyes and huffed, "Ungrateful brat."
Ichigo bristled but bit his tongue. It looked like Ginjo was the only one who wanted to help; the rest seemed to either not care or, in Riruka's case, downright resent the idea.
This time, Ginjo noticed the darkening of Ichigo's eyes. Holding up his hands between Riruka and Ichigo in a request for peace, he said to Ichigo, "Don't mind her, she's probably on her period."
"Hey!" The girl blushed a deep pink and directed a murderous glare at her friend.
Once again, Ichigo couldn't help questioning his own decision to come here, but the thought of regaining his powers overrode everything, and he forced himself to ignore the insistent nagging voice in his head.
"Because I sense your frustration," Ginjo said with a nonchalant shrug. "We have the same goal as you do, so we understand what you're going through."
Ichigo's eyes narrowed at once. He hated it when people say that; it was simply impossible for an outsider to fully comprehend what he had gone through, especially someone whom he just met a few days ago. He wanted to lash out so badly; only the tiny spark of hope from Ginjo's offer managed to hold him back.
"What goal?" he asked, his voice clipped.
Ginjo spread his arms and gestured to his companions. "We...all of us...had suffered the loss of people dear to us in the manner not unlike yours, and in the process gained the power to protect. Our goal, our mission, is to make sure that no one else has to go through what we've gone through." His face had lost its earlier playfulness, his jaw was tight, his brows slightly furrowed in seriousness.
For once, Ichigo thought he detected a trace of passion in the man's voice, even though his words sounded kind of corny. "So, how are we gonna do this?" Ichigo repeated.
"Do you trust me?" Ginjo asked in response.
Ichigo hesitated as he looked at the man; Ginjo's eyebrows were raised expectantly. Of course he didn't trust him, but he couldn't make himself lie to the man's face even if it meant that he would be kicked out. No matter how desperate he was, Ichigo had principles. So he simply bit his lip and stared at the larger man in silence.
Ginjo sighed, his shoulders slumping in disappointment. But he didn't back off. Instead, he patted Ichigo on the shoulder with an almost paternal manner. "You will see, Ichigo. With time, you will see that we are your friends." And then he smiled.
Ichigo backed up against the wall and stared at the big, fluffy stuffed animal towering over him. His mouth hung open in disbelief; surely this was a dream. A nightmare-a ridiculous one too boot.
"This is your idea of training?" he yelled, his eyes darting around to look for a hiding place.
High above him, Ginjo's face hovered where the ceiling should be. The size of the man's face reminded Ichigo just how tiny he was at the moment.
Un-fucking-believable.
Earlier, Riruka had grudgingly agreed to "train" Ichigo. Except, her idea of "training" was to shrink him and then stick him into a doll house-a fucking doll house!-and ask him to fight a toy. No instructions, no explanations. Just a simple "beat him".
"What the fuck am I supposed to do?" Ichigo hollered, and then immediately dove behind another-thankfully inanimate-stuffed toy for cover as his opponent slammed a furry paw on where he had been just a split second ago.
Riruka's face appeared next to Ginjo's. "Fight him!" she said, one corner of her mouth curled up in a challenging smirk.
Ichigo backed up against another wall before throwing himself across the room, barely avoiding another paw. "With what?" Not even five minutes into the "training", and he was already convinced that this whole thing was a mistake.
He grunted in frustration as he sprinted along the wall, closely followed by a panting, growling bunny. A pink bunny! It looked like something Rukia would like. How was he supposed to "fight" this abomination? Throw a toy at it? Breathing heavily himself, he risked a quick turn of his head and ended up tripping over a protruding piece of wood near the floor. Thrown off-balance, he crash-landed a few feet in front of him and rolled over. Before he could overcome the momentum of the fall, his back connected with the wall, knocking the breath out of his lungs.
"Fuck!" His attacker closed down on him, and he frantically scrambled to his hands and feet and half-ran, half-crawled away. But he was just a fraction too slow. He felt a jarring impact on his legs, and then he was yanked down bodily. Taken by surprise, all he could do was cover his face with his hands; his elbows smashed into the floor. It was a good thing he was not too far from the floor to begin with, so even though the landing sent a blast of pain up his arms, he was pretty sure nothing broke. Still, he lay there for a few seconds, dazed and breathless from the fall.
His opponent seemed as surprised as he was that it had managed to catch its prey; by the time it realized it, it had already let go of Ichigo and was rearing up for another hit. Ichigo didn't waste the opening; picking himself up from the floor, he reached for the first thing he found-it was another piece of wood. Fumbling to wrap his hand around it, he realized it was actually the leg of a chair that had toppled over. With a rush of determination, he grabbed the chair and swung it blindly at the stuffed toy. He got lucky.
With a pained roar, the toy bunny's legs were knocked out from beneath it, and it crashed to its knees and fell forward, nearly crushing Ichigo in the process. He swore loudly and swung the chair above his head for the next blow. Except, he didn't notice how close he was to his opponent's hand. With a surprised yelp, he was swiped off his feet and thrown across the room.
He landed on one shoulder and rolled some distance away. Gritting his teeth against the throbbing pain, he stood up on wobbly legs and screamed at the top of his lungs. "What the fuck is this?"
Riruka looked at him and blinked innocently. "What do you mean? This is your training."
"What the fuck kind of training is this?" Ichigo yelled, his face red from indignation and exertion, and then immediately had to dive for cover again. "I really don't see the point in this!"
The distraction from this brief conversation cost him a blow to his side, and he was thrown against the wall, landing on his already-sore shoulder. Growling in anger, he turned around and faced his opponent. It was still several feet away from him. His mind worked frantically-the toy was large, clumsy, and obviously had no battle strategy. It was just coming after him blindly; with its size, there was no way Ichigo could win using brute force. He had to outsmart it.
Without realizing it, he was analyzing his enemy, not unlike the way he used to do in the past. It wasn't slow, but its movement wasn't coordinated. Ichigo narrowed his eyes and thought back to the hits he had taken so far. It was always the paws-it was its only weapon; at least, it seemed to be the only weapon it knew to use. And it was very unstable on its feet-he recalled how easy it had been to make it fall.
His brows furrowed as he ran the facts through his mind, and by the time he looked up again, his opponent was gone.
Ichigo's heart sank as he realized that he had forgotten an important fact-one could not afford the luxury of standing idle to strategize during a battle. With a burst of adrenaline, he whipped his head around, but it was too late. He caught a flash of movement, and then there was blinding pain-it exploded through his entire body, completely overwhelming his senses, so much so that he was only vaguely aware that he was sailing through the air. He heard a gasp of alarm from above, and then his back rammed into a hard surface. Stunned from the impact, he wasn't even able to make a sound before landing on the floor in a crumpled heap.
A shadow loomed over him, and Ichigo raised his head shakily, barely able to open his eyes.
I'm gonna die.
As the realization dawned, he couldn't help chuckling at the absurdity of it all. He survived Ulquiorra, survived Aizen, only to succumb to a fucking stuffed animal.
Kisuke...
He felt the air stir above his head, and his eyes slid closed.
Ichigo blinked. As consciousness returned, his headache hit him full in the face like a freight train, and he gasped out loud.
"Are you okay?" A distorted male voice asked.
Head swimming, Ichigo held up a hand to ask the person to shut the fuck up, while his other hand went to hold his head together. His temples throbbed in time with his heartbeat.
A whiny female voice cut in, "I didn't think it was that bad. What a wimp."
Ichigo's head snapped up in anger despite his condition. His eyes met a pair of large, reddish-brown eyes. The owner-Riruka, if he recalled correctly-stared at him with no sign of remorse even though she had nearly gotten him killed. The girl stood a few feet away from him with one of her hips stuck out at an angle, and her lips were curled up in a challenging sneer.
"Go to hell," Ichigo rasped.
"Give him a break, Riruka," the same male voice admonished. As his head gradually cleared, Ichigo could now recognize that the voice belonged to Ginjo. The man's eyes were laced with concern as he took a closer look at Ichigo.
Ichigo flinched when Ginjo touched his forearm, but the man continued anyway; he squeezed Ichigo's arms lightly, feeling the bones and quickly inspecting the forming bruises. Ignoring Ichigo's glare, he gently went over the boy's head and finally announced that Ichigo did not suffer any permanent damage.
Even through the haze of his headache, Ichigo began to feel the throbbing in his shoulder and back. He gingerly peeled his collar off his aching shoulder and groaned in dismay when he saw the angry patch of red and purple. He supposed it was lucky that the shoulder was not dislocated, seeing how many times he had landed on it during the training.
Yeah, "training". Ichigo felt a surge of anger, and he stood up abruptly, only to sway dangerously on his feet.
"You are out of your mind," he spat at Ginjo after he was finally able to steady himself.
The man looked stricken. "It went slightly out of control, I didn't expect it to turn out that way. I'm sorry, Ichigo." Ginjo sounded sincere, but it wasn't enough to provide any true reassurance or explanation behind the logic of his so-called method to help Ichigo regain his powers.
Ichigo stretched his neck, wincing as his sore muscles protested his movements. "I'm out," he snapped, deciding that it had been a stupid idea to even try this in the first place. "I've had enough."
Riruka let out a snicker. "I knew he wouldn't last," she said to Ginjo, but the man ignored her.
"Ichigo, believe me, this was just an accident," Ginjo said, stepping forward to block Ichigo's exit route. "Give it one more chance, Ichigo."
Behind Ginjo, Riruka gave a snort and rolled her eyes. Her obvious disrespect and unspoken challenge grated on Ichigo's ego, and he found himself suddenly defensive.
"You really want it back, don't you?" Ginjo asked quietly.
Ichigo looked at the man and felt his resolve waver. Of course he really wanted it back, but was it enough to go through this humiliation and danger again? His fists clenched involuntarily.
"He doesn't have the balls to do it," Riruka sneered.
That was it. Ichigo took a deep breath. "One more chance," he said through his teeth, glaring at both of them. Like it or not, he had to admit that the earlier exercise had triggered some of his old instincts-the adrenaline rush that pushed him during the fight had dragged out skills that he hadn't had the chance to use for a long time. Crazy as it was, it was better than nothing.
"Good," Ginjo said with a smile. "It'll work, I promise."
Ichigo was glad that he wasn't hit on the face or anywhere visible that might attract unwanted attention. He had the feeling that it would only get worse the next time.
Just one more time, he thought as he walked down the street back to Karakura. He'd stayed for another hour to recover from his dizziness, and the pill that he took for pain had started to kick in. If he ignored the soreness of his muscles, he felt almost normal.
Just a rough workout session. Yeah, that's what he would say if anyone asked. Still, he would rather not have to explain. He would just have to wear long-sleeved shirts for a couple of weeks while his bruises recovered.
One other thing had his mind occupied as well. It didn't escape him that Urahara had flashed through his mind right before he passed out. It wasn't Yuzu, or Karin, or his dad. It was ironic, given that they were the motivation for all of this in the first place, and rather disturbing.
Had he really begun to care about this man so much?
He wasn't paying attention to where he was going, just that he was heading towards Karakura, and when it finally occurred to him that he was already in Karakura, he looked up to see where he was in the neighborhood. With a start, he realized that he was only one block away from Urahara's shop.
Coincidence?
Either way, he decided to drop by. Might as well.
The blonde was at the door even before Ichigo could knock the second time, and he was invited in. It was only when he walked by the kitchen that he suddenly realized that he was parched.
"Hi," Ichigo said as Tessai reached for a cup to get him some tea. "Thanks." The burly man's gaze lingered on his face just a split second longer than normal before he turned back to his chopping board.
"Does he know?" Ichigo asked, sliding the door closed after they both stepped into Urahara's room.
Urahara looked at him in amusement. "Do you care?"
Ichigo shrugged. "Not really, was just curious," he said. Balancing the full cup carefully, he sat down on the edge of the bed and took a generous sip.
"You seem tired," Urahara commented, noting the sigh of relief and the sudden release of tension in the boy's body.
Feeling slightly guilty, Ichigo use his planned response. He saw the blonde's eyebrows rise just a fraction, but since the man didn't press further, he didn't elaborate.
"Let me give you a massage, how about that?" Urahara offered with a smile. Before Ichigo could refuse, the older man rested his palms on his shoulder and squeezed.
Hot tea splashed on Ichigo's fingers and across a bit of the bed sheets and floor as he flinched. The squeeze, though very light, sent a sharp jolt of pain up his spine, and his body reacted naturally before he could stop himself. Hissing in pain from the hot liquid, Ichigo quickly placed the cup on Urahara's night stand and began to wipe his fingers on his shirt.
Urahara sat quietly through the outburst, but when Ichigo finally settled back down next to him, he said dryly, "That's some workout."
Ichigo gave him a sheepish smile. He should've known better than to think that he could fool the man.
"Let me see it." Urahara's voice was soft, but it didn't leave any room for debate.
With a sigh, Ichigo pulled his collar off his shoulder. He heard a sharp intake of breath.
"What happened?" the blonde asked.
Ichigo risked a sideways glance at the older man. There was no way Urahara would approve of his decision, he knew that much. But he couldn't lie.
Sure enough, not even halfway through his confession, Urahara's face had darkened. But he remained silent and simply stared at Ichigo with a look of exasperation and waited for the boy to finish.
"You obviously already know what I'm going to say," he said with a sigh when Ichigo was done.
Ichigo nodded. "Yeah."
"Are you really that desperate?" Urahara asked, his heart heavy. He knew that something like this was going to happen sooner or later, but this was sooner than he'd expected.
"Yes." Ichigo's eyes held a glint of determination. "You have no idea how much I want this."
Urahara forced himself to swallow the words that had gathered on the tip of his tongue. No, not now, not yet.
"Let me do this," Ichigo said, his hands curling into fists. "Just one more time. If it turns out to be the bullshit like today, I'll stop. I promise."
Urahara's hands went to his temples. This thing-these people-was setting off every warning bell in his body, but he knew there was nothing he could say to hold the boy back. He would have to trust Ichigo's judgement. For now.
"I'll be careful," Ichigo whispered. He moved closer to the older man and climbed into his lap, ignoring the pain that shot through his limbs as his muscles stretched.
"You shouldn't move like this," Urahara gasped, holding the boy's waist to keep him still. He caught the slight frown on Ichigo's face and shifted his weight so that Ichigo could be more comfortable. "Ichigo..."
"Mmm" was all the boy said before he dove down to claim the the blonde's mouth. Hooking his arms around the back of Urahara's neck, he leaned into the older man's body. Their lips parted for each other and their tongues slid together smoothly, caressing one another with unhurried tenderness. Then Ichigo rolled his hips-while ignoring the ache in his back-and heard his lover's breath hitch in his throat as they rubbed against each other.
Despite his intention to advise the boy that they should wait until he wasn't so sore, Urahara felt himself harden.
Ichigo's lips left his and went to his ear. "I'll be careful." And then the teen slid off his lap and pulled him down to the bed.
He had never been to Ichigo's school, but he had no problem finding it. Having arrived early, he shrunk into the shadows near the entrance and waited for the last bell. He had never spied on Ichigo like this, and had no intention to make it a habit. Unfortunately, the alarm bells in his head had only increased overnight, and he figured that this was a fair exception.
Keeping his distance, he followed the boy as he navigated through unfamiliar neighborhoods. When Ichigo finally stopped in front of a dirty, ill-maintained apartment building, he pressed himself into the wall of the building across the street, careful to keep his easily-recognizable bucket hat out of sight.
After a moment of hesitation, Ichigo ascended the stairs and didn't stop until he arrived at the corner unit on the second floor. He watched as the boy tapped his foot on the floor impatiently, then the door swung open and a hand reached out to hold it open.
Before he could make out anything more about the owner of the thick, mascular arm, Ichigo stepped into the apartment and disappeared.
It looked like he would have to speed up his plan.
To be continued...