Archive 'fic: Eyes Turned Inside Out (Punchdown Mix) (IchiRuki theme 49, conversations in the dark)
Things continue to twist and turn, and pop culture references run rampant.
I don’t want to do this.
I don’t want to do this.
I don’t want to go back there.
I don’t want to face this.
I don’t want to see him again.
I don’t want to...
...but I have to stop running.
“Zangetsu.”
A moment. Then, out of the corner of his eye, a swirl of black coat. He turns a little to see him, standing easily on the slope of the tiled roof.
He looks up, meets his eyes. “Ossan,” he says, “we need to talk.”
“Aa,” Zangetsu says.
I don’t want to do this. If there were anyway but this...
Ichigo shakes the thought off, then looks up at him again. “So,” he says, starting to rise, “let’s go.”
Zangetsu sits down beside him.
Ichigo freezes, then slowly lowers himself back to the roof. He stares at him for a moment, then says, “What’s going on?”
Zangetsu doesn’t look at him. “We will not go there.”
Well. Ichigo doesn’t want to do that anyways, but he’s kinda pissed off that he worked up the courage for nothing. “Why not?” he demands.
Zangetsu gives him that sideways look. “You are not ready,” he says.
Ichigo starts to protest, but Zangetsu continues, “And she is not with you.”
“She...? RUKIA?” Ichigo asks. “You gotta be kidding me! There’s no way in HELL she’s going back there.”
Zangetsu faces forward again, and is quiet for a moment. “Then,” he finally says, “she will die.”
Ichigo stares at him in shock, then looks away. “No,” he says. “That’s bullshit.”
“It is fact.”
“No, it’s BULLSHIT!” Ichigo yells, turning back to him. “We’ve fought Hollows before, and they don’t DO that sort of SHIT! They just attempt to eat...” He stops, and his eyes go wide. “Are you saying...no, that’s not...that’s FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE.”
Zangetsu doesn’t respond, nor look at him.
Ichigo stops, and then quietly, almost as if speaking to himself, “Are you saying he’s eating her soul through that bite?”
Now Zangetsu looks at him, just a little. “Aa.”
“HOW?”
Zangetsu looks away again. “It is a powerful thing. It left a,” he pauses, as if he doesn’t know the word, “leech, you would call it. Something that would feed on her power indefinitely, until that power was exhausted.” Another pause. “I did not sense its presence when I healed her, else I would’ve removed it. Now, it is too deeply embedded for me to do that.” He looks at Ichigo. “He is the only one who can.”
Ichigo stares at him, absorbing the information. After a while, he says, “Is that why she couldn’t heal it? Or Inoue?”
“Aa.” A pause. “It is possible that it was not active when I healed her. Therefore, I could not sense it. It was her own healing, then, that activated it.” Another pause. “Once it was tied to that, Inoue’s abilities wouldn’t have recognized it.”
Ichigo’s eyes narrow, and he goes very still, very quiet. Finally, he says, “What you’re saying is, Inoue’s healing...would’ve seen it as another part of Rukia’s body, and wouldn’t have tried to heal it.”
“Yes.”
“That’s awfully fuckin’ smart for a Hollow.”
“It is, as I said, a powerful thing. It grows in many ways.”
“Well, how am I supposed to stop it then? How can I beat it, if it’s so strong and smart and growing all the time?” The words come out bitter, angry, hopeless.
Zangetsu gives him a disapproving look. “Is that your aim?”
“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” he asks.
Zangetsu says nothing, and Ichigo feels his face slowly change, going from anger to confusion to even more confusion. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” he asks again.
Zangetsu rises. “She does not have much time, Ichigo,” he says. “Do not wait overlong.”
“Wait!” he cries out. “How the hell am I supposed to explain this to her? How’s she supposed to get there? WHAT THE HELL...”
But Zangetsu is gone.
Ichigo spends a day trying to figure out what to say to Rukia.
For one, he’s still not entirely fine with her. Despite what she said, he’s still a little angry about her telling Karin everything. But even putting that aside, how’s he supposed to explain this to her? “So Rukia, I talked to Zangetsu. He says that thing on your neck is going to kill you, unless we go talk to the Hollow again. Oh, and it has to be soon.”
She’d look at him like he was crazy. And she’d be right.
He’s debating the possibility of just writing her a note and slipping it under the door when he runs into Yoruichi.
Sorta.
More like she drops onto his head.
“OW!” he hisses, then glares at her as she bounces down to the sidewalk. “DAMN CAT.”
“Ossu, Ichigo!”
He stops. “Yoruichi-san?” he asks, rubbing his head.
She raises a paw. “Know any other cats that talk?”
“No.”
“Well, then, who else would it be?” She gives him a knowing look.
He has no answer for that.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“Been followin’ you,” she says.
“WHAT? Why?”
“Heh. Maybe you should ask me that around fewer people?” she says.
He looks around, notices a few people giving him odd looks. He turns back. “Fine,” he huffs. “Come on.”
She follows him down the street for awhile, then asks, “Are we going to your house, Ichigo?”
“NO.”
“Aw, I’ve always wanted to see your room!”
“NO.”
“Afraid I’ll find your porn? I always find Kisuke’s so quickly, it’s like he doesn’t even bother to hide it!”
“DEFINITELY NOT.”
“Come on, Ichigo, it’s a perfectly healthy thing...”
He tunes her out, then and there.
He leads her down to the river, and under the closest bridge. He stops in the shadow, turns, and tunes her back in.
“...I mean, Soi Fong had that problem, too, and I fixed it for her!”
“Yoruichi-san,” he says, and she stops. She looks around.
“Here?” she asks.
“Yup,” he says, sitting down. “No one comes down here, besides the gangs.” He smiles a little, flashes teeth. “And they know better than to deal with Kurosaki Ichigo.”
“Heh,” she says, and if cats could grin, he’s sure she would be grinning at him.
She pads over and sits in front of him. She lowers her head for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts, then says, “There’s something wrong with Rukia.”
The smile vanishes from his face. “Is that it, then?” he says quietly.
She looks up at him. “You knew?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know what caused it?”
“Yeah.”
“Ha! I knew you would know.” She turns her head to the side. “I’ve never sensed anything quite like it before,” she says. “It doesn’t smell like a Hollow, but it feels like one, right around the edges. Almost as if there’s a Hollow masking itself in her aura.” She shakes her head. “But that can’t be true.”
He stares at her. A Hollow, wrapped in Rukia’s aura. That sounded like what Zangetsu had said.
She smacks his knee with her paw. “Don’t just look at me like that! What caused it? Kisuke says he knows, but then Kisuke says that about everything.”
Ichigo looks down. “Yoruichi-san...you know...what’s inside me.” It’s not a question.
“Ara?” She blinks, then says, in an odd voice, “Ichigo...”
“It bit her.”
“But...how?” She sounds genuinely puzzled.
He looks at her, doesn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t know,” he says angrily. “I only found out what it was recently. I don’t know how it happened.” His voice drops. “And it’s not like she’s going to tell me.”
Yoruichi says nothing, but puts her paw on his knee again.
“It’s going to kill her, Yoruichi-san.” It comes out almost easily now. It shouldn’t be that easy to say, as if he was used to that idea.
“Ichigo...Kisuke might...”
He shakes his head. “Urahara can’t fix it, and neither can you. It has to be fixed by...it. The Hollow itself.”
She says nothing for a moment, then quietly, “Zangetsu told you that?”
He nods.
“Do you believe him?”
He meets her eyes for a moment, as if she’s asked him a dumb question. But it’s not, he realizes. It’s really not.
“Yes,” he says. “He...somehow he helped Rukia, before. I believe he’s right.”
“All right,” she replies. “Then...what are you waiting for?”
He stares at her. “Yoruichi-san,” he says, “how the hell am I supposed to tell Rukia that? How can I tell her that the thing on her neck is going to kill her, unless she goes and meets with the same thing that gave it to her? How the HELL am I supposed to tell her that? Walk up to her and say, ‘Hey Rukia, wanna die? No? Gotta meet my Hollow again, then. NO REALLY, I’M SERIOUS’.” He gives her a dark look. “That’d go over well.”
Unspoken is the question: And what if she says she won’t??
Yoruichi meets his eyes for a moment.
Then she paces back a few steps, crouches, and leaps. The trajectory carries her smack into his head, which snaps back into the girder behind him. He lets out a yelp, and holds his head. “OW!” he says, as she lands beside him. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?”
“For being stupid, Ichigo,” she says, turning to face him. “Isn’t that why people usually hit you?”
“NO.”
She gives him a look, and he slowly lowers his hand. “Maybe,” he mutters.
“Che,” she says. “Idiot boy.” She paces in front of him. “Would you give up that easily?”
“Huh?”
She glares at him again. “You heard me. Would you give up that easily? That’s not the Ichigo I know. That’s not the Ichigo who faced down Abarai Renji and Zaraki Kenpachi. That’s not the Ichigo who nearly charged Kuchiki Byakuya without any sort of proper training. That’s not the Ichigo who achieved Bankai in less than three days. THAT Ichigo wouldn’t back down, just because he’s afraid of his own shadow!”
“Yoruichi..!”
“AND you seem to think Rukia’s got the brains of a gnat,” she snaps. “She may be afraid of this thing, she may be more afraid of it than YOU are, but she’s not going to waste away because of it. She would fight.” She glares at him. “Won’t you?”
He remembers, then, his dream. Just before the Hollow charged Rukia, she had yelled something. He’d thought he hadn’t heard it, but now it drifted up in his mind.
”Yes, I will. I told you, Ichigo’s strong.” A pause. “Stronger than the both of us.”
He looks down at Yoruichi, and nods.
Her glare lessens just a little. “Good, good.” She turns, starts to walk away. “I’ll leave that to you then.”
He blinks at her. “But, Yoruichi-san,” he says. “I’m not sure how.”
She looks back at him. “Ask her how she did it in the first place,” she says, then turns back, and trots off.
He watches her for a moment, then looks away. “She’ll never tell me that,” he murmurs to himself.
Then he pushes himself off the ground, slings his bag over his shoulder, and follows. “But it doesn’t hurt to try asking.” He thinks about Rukia, and grimaces. “Well, it might,” he adds. “But it’s not like there’s any other options left.”
Rukia turns out to be far more amenable and reasonable about things than he’d guessed. Who’d have known?
Later, that night, she sits next to his bed. He lies there, hands folded across his chest, staring at the ceiling. He’s not looking at her; in fact, he’s avoided looking at her since she sat down there.
“Ready?” she says.
He nods, and she starts to lay her hand on his.
“Wait.”
She stops. “What?” she asks, quick and quiet.
“Where’s Kon? I don’t want him to...”
“Next door, Ichigo,” she says, with that little exasperated note at the end of her voice. “He says he’s staying with Karin until you apologize.”
“So she’s not gonna come in either, then.”
“No.” She shifts a little in her seat. “Why?”
“Last time...he affected her, too,” he says, then looks at her. “I don’t want that to happen again.”
“Oh. Well, she should be all right, as long as you don’t suddenly run to the next room.”
“Could that happen?”
“Ichigo...”
“Could it?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “When I was drawn into your inner world, the experience lasted at least an hour. Out here, it was less than a second, the space of a breath.” Her eyes sharpen on him. “So stop worrying.”
“Ah. Right. I remember that, now.” He looks back at the ceiling.
“Ready?” There’s a hint of exasperation in her voice.
“Yeah.”
She brings her hand up again, and starts to bring it down on his, when he says, “Rukia.”
“WHAT NOW?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she bites out.
“No, I mean...are you sure you can do this?” He makes a gesture towards his head.
She sighs. “Pretty sure,” she says. “Zangetsu said you couldn’t go without me, right?”
He nods.
“Then he’ll draw me in, if I make myself known.”
“And I should already be there.”
“Right.”
“You sure?”
“YES, Ichigo.”
“All right then. Let’s go.”
He closes his eyes.
There’s a dropping sensation, as if the bottom of the bed had fallen out beneath him. He opens his eyes, sure he’ll still be in his room.
He’s not. He’s standing on the side of a building, strongly outlined in blue. Above him, the clouds skate across the sky at a tilted angle. He takes a breath, frowns; it smells like it’s rained, and recently.
He looks down, making sure he’s dressed as a shinigami. He is. He reaches back, finds Zangetsu’s sword hilt. The touch of the tang reassures him a little, and he squeezes it once before dropping his hand.
Now, where was Rukia...
There’s a sound, sort of like the clatter of blinds, and she drops down next to him. She crouches for a moment, touches the glass beneath her feet, then stands. He’s envious, for a moment, of her easy confidence here.
She looks at him, and he looks back. “What now?” he asks.
She looks around, grimaces. “We wait, I guess.”
“Hell with that,” he says, then hollers, “OI!”
The sound echoes among the buildings, and seems to bounce around the world. She glares at him. “What was the point of that?” she asks.
He senses it a moment before it appears, and turns.
It’s standing on the edge of a break between buildings. “That,” he says softly, as it looks at them, and grins.
“Partner!” it crows. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon!”
Rukia moves out from beside him, and its eyes brighten. “And Rukia-chan, too,” it says, grin broadening to a look that makes Ichigo want to step between them. “Well, well.” It raises a hand, waves. “YO, Rukia-chan!”
To Rukia’s credit, she stays still, and says nothing. He barely notices how her hand tightens on her sword.
The Hollow’s grin widens a touch more, then it looks back at him. “So, partner,” it says. “What brings you here?”
He glances at Rukia, then steps forward. “We need to talk to you,” he says.
“Talk? To me?” The Hollow giggles. “Oh, good. I have so much to say...but wait. Why the both of you?”
“You know why,” Rukia says, voice low.
“Oh?” It cocks its head. “Do I?” That grin again, only with a trace of hardness at the edges. “How could I...when I can’t see it?”
It moves, and Ichigo turns, reaching for Zangetsu. It appears behind her, one hand on her shoulder, and with the other, touches her neck. The scarf dissolves under its fingers.
“Better,” it says, in a whispery voice, fingers moving lightly above the mark.
Then Rukia tenses, leaps away from it. She comes down with her hand on her sword hilt, but she doesn’t draw.
The Hollow looks at him, raises an eyebrow. “Touchy, isn’t she?” it says.
Ichigo says nothing, one hand tight at his side. The mark on the side of her neck no longer resembles a bite, a hickey, a tear in her skin. It looks like someone has painted the side of her neck in crimson, purple, the colors shadowing the major artery there. It’s started to creep down to her collarbone, up to her jaw.
“Isn’t it lovely?” the Hollow says.
Ichigo glares at it, and its expression blanks for a moment. Then it grins again, and says, “Not that I’d expect either of you to appreciate it.”
Ichigo looks to Rukia, but she’s still, face grim. One hand flexes at her side, as if she’s trying to prevent it from rising, covering her neck.
He draws Zangetsu.
“Partner!” the Hollow says, looking surprised.
He ignores it, turns away, deliberately showing it his back. He moves to Rukia, sets Zangetsu on its tip, and unwraps the hilt. He pulls off a good amount of wrap, then pulls it down across the blade edge. It cuts easily, and he hands it to Rukia.
Her eyes widen briefly, then she nods, takes it. He looks back at the Hollow, and sheathes Zangetsu.
It’s giving the two of them an oddly appraising look. Then, it ducks its head. “So sorry, Rukia-chan,” it says lightly. “I didn’t realize it was such a sensitive thing.”
It raises its hand, flicks its fingers.
Ichigo looks back to see the scarf, or one that looks exactly like it, drape around Rukia’s neck.
She looks down at it in surprise, then her eyes narrow. She pulls it off, glares past him at the Hollow, then drops it. She reaches up, finishes winding the wrap around her neck, then ties it off on the other side. It looks a little skewed, and it doesn’t completely cover the wound, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
He looks at the Hollow, tilts his head.
The Hollows scowls at him a moment, then shakes its head. “So it goes,” it says, then grins wryly. “There’ll be other times.” It gives a little laugh, one with an edge to it.
Then it looks up at the sky, and makes a face. “I’m tired of being in the rain,” it says, voice petulant. “Shall we try someplace else?”
It snaps its fingers.
It seems to Ichigo that the world tilts, then whirls around that new axis. His hands come up in front of his face, blocking the view.
A moment, and Rukia says, “Ichigo. You can look now.”
He puts his arms down, looks around. His eyes widen. “Where are we?” he asks, looking back at Rukia.
“Another part of your head, in a way,” she says. “It can create illusions of different places, taken from your memories.”
“It can?” he asks. “I didn’t know that.”
She looks down. “I did.”
He frowns at her, then looks around, still amazed. They're in a room of some sort, one that looks like it hasn't been used in a long time. They’re both sitting in rather comfortable chairs, green in color; she wears her sword, while Zangetsu leans on the chair next to him. There’s a small table before her, and beyond that, a faded red chair, empty. Another table sits next to it, with an old style black phone on its surface. Beyond Rukia is a dead fireplace with a large, dead clock on its mantel. A faint light hangs far above them, and most of the room lies in shadow. Outside, rain slashes down, and there’s a rumble of thunder in the distance.
A cup of tea sits on the table in front of Rukia. She notices it, grimaces, and says darkly, “Tea. Again.”
“Again?” he says, but at that moment, a soft giggle comes from the chair across from them. They both come to attention.
The Hollow appears in the chair, as if it slides from the shadows themselves. It’s wearing a long, shiny white coat, lined in black, and white pants. Its shirt is more of a vest, with glittering yellow buttons down the front. A short yellow tie hangs down over that. It wears rimless dark glasses and a wide grin.
“Rukia-chan wasn’t fond of the tea last time,” it explains. “I thought she might want to try it again.”
Rukia glares, and pushes the cup away from her. The Hollow looks down at it, shakes its head, then looks up at him.
“She thinks it’ll hurt her somehow,” it says, pulling the cup closer. Tea sloshes over the sides. “She’s wrong. It’s just tea. Her tea, in fact.” He takes a sip, sighs. “Delicious.” He sets the cup down.
Rukia does not look pleased, so Ichigo says, “What’s all this for?”
“This?” The Hollow leans back in its chair, steeples its fingers in front of its face. “You wanted to talk, didn’t you, partner?”
“Stop calling him that,” Rukia says suddenly. “You aren’t partners.”
The Hollow cocks its head. “Ah yes, Rukia-chan,” it says. “About that.” It moves forward. “You’re wrong.”
Ichigo doesn’t look at her. He doesn’t want to see her expression.
“Wrong?” she says, voice defiant. “How?”
It raises its eyebrows, then leans back. “I’m glad you asked! You see...” It stops, frowns. “I think we’ll need an illustration for this.”
It turns, waves a hand. A picture rolls down beside him. He guesses it’s a side view of him, though it looks a little like it was drawn by Rukia. The Hollow reaches in its coat, pulls out a pointer, and flicks it at the page.
“Now, this is Ichigo,” it says. It taps the picture, and another side view appears, back to back with the previous. It also looks a little like it was drawn by Rukia. “And that’s me.” He turns back, points the pointer at Rukia. “You are under the impression that we’re two separate entities in one body, like so.” It flicks the pointer at the picture, and the two drawings merge messily, overlapping each other.
It looks back at her, and taps the pointer in its other hand. “This, if you’d bothered to think about it for two seconds, is obviously wrong.”
“How so?” Rukia challenges.
“Ah, well, because it’s more like...this.” It flicks the pointer again, and suddenly there’s only one drawing. This one is bisected down the middle, and one of those halves is colored in.
“One mind, one body,” it says. “No difference. The only thing is, I’ve got a little extra force behind me that allows me to take a separate form from him.” It plucks at its collar, shakes it at her. “I still look like him, though.”
“You smell like a Hollow,” she says, voice dark.
It smiles at her, a not entirely pleasant smile. “That’s my extra oomph, dear,” it says. “I was given form,” it flicks the pointer at him, “by his partial transformation into a Hollow. I, his desires, his greatest wants, his most repressed emotions. And he has an AWFUL lot of those.” The grin widens. “Isn’t that right, partner?”
Ichigo lowers his head a little, and very carefully doesn’t look at Rukia.
“See? SEE, Rukia-chan! He agrees, ‘cause he knows. He knows I’ve always been around, in some form or another.” It cackles again. “Though I got a great boost even before now. From just before you turned ten, one rainy June, eh Ichigo?”
Ichigo’s head comes up, and his eyes blaze. The Hollow looks at him, and laughs.
“I’m glad you recognize that, partner,” it says, voice merry. “But now, now, I shouldn’t just pick on you. Rukia’s got her share of things we can talk about, too.” It gestures at the sheet.
A man appears. He’s tall, dark haired, blue eyed. He wears a shinigami uniform with a vice-captain’s badge on his arm.
He looks strikingly like what Ichigo sees in the mirror in the morning. There’s little differences, here and there, but otherwise...it’s similar. Really similar.
“This,” the Hollow says, turning towards it, “is Kaien. Shiba Kaien. He was Rukia-chan’s vice-captain.” It spins back around, holds the pointer in both hands. “Guess what she did to him?”
Ichigo looks at Rukia. She’s gone white, and her hands curl on her lap.
The Hollow laughs, low and proud. “Yup! That’s the guy she didn’t tell you about the other night.” His grin widens. “Don’t look so surprised. I can occasionally see what you’re doing up there, and I have access to your memories.” It winks. “Cranes were certainly a nice touch.”
Ichigo’s jaw tightens.
It looks back at the drawing. “He certainly looks like us, doesn’t he?” it says, then turns back at Ichigo. “I wonder if I should draw that picture, too,” it says, voice thoughtful. “Or maybe a poem is better! ‘Rukia-chan’s old vice/gets a Hollow, dies in a trice/Look alike Ichigo comes along/Need I spell out the end to this song’?” Its face tightens. “Though it’s not really supposed to be a song...”
“STOP IT.”
Rukia’s voice is hard and insistent, but there’s a tang, a touch, of desperation on the edge of it.
The Hollow sits up. “Why, Rukia-chan.”
“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” she yells. “AND TAKE THAT DAMN THING DOWN.”
The Hollow actually looks surprised. “Of course, Rukia-chan,” it says. “Anything you say.” It flicks the pointer at the screen, and the image vanishes.
Ichigo looks over at Rukia. One hand is curled around her arm, gripping tight. Her head is slightly lowered, and there’s a tremor to her form, ever so slight.
He knows that pose. He wishes he didn’t, but he does.
He looks back at the Hollow, and his eyes burn even more.
“No more games,” he says. “Tell us how to cure Rukia.”
“No more games?” the Hollow says, then lets out a sigh. “But we do so enjoy them, don’t we?” It slaps the pointer closed, puts it in its pocket. It leans back into the shadows of its chair, and steeples its fingers again.
“The cure for Rukia is you,” it says.
Ichigo stares at it for a moment, face gone slack. Then his jaw clenches, and he growls, “What the HELL do you mean by that?” Outside, the thunder rumbles, as if echoing his words.
The Hollow chuckles, flexes its fingers. “Simple, partner,” he says. “You. Her. A dark room, a secret place. An...exchange.” It waggles its eyebrows.
Ichigo blinks, and stares at it in confusion. It sighs. “I had to get all of your brains, didn’t I?” it says, then leans forward, “You have to KISS HER.”
Both Ichigo and Rukia jump, as if their chairs had suddenly shocked them. They glance at each other, then look away, just as quickly. Ichigo feels himself color, and he tries to say something, but all he can do is stutter.
The Hollow chuckles. “You should see your faces,” it sighs. “You both look like I just asked you to kill a puppy. Or a bunny in your case, Rukia-chan.” It chuckles again, settles back into its chair. “Which, you know, I could’ve.”
“Is this some sort of joke?” Rukia asks sharply, moving forward in her chair. “Another game, perhaps?”
It tilts its head. “And if I said that it was? If I said, sorry, yes, that was just a joke, just a game? If I said, here’s what you have to do: you both have to go and bring me back the Fire Cherry-Apple-Pinecone of the gods. To do so, you’ll cross harsh distances, fight nigh-unbeatable foes, push yourself to the ABSOLUTE limit. The risk of death would haunt you every second, and that’s only to get the item to exchange for the cure. Then you’d have to come all the way back and get the cure from me.” It smirks. “If I said that, would you do it? Would he? You know the answer to that, and so do I.”
It laughs again, dark and cruel. “I’m not an idiot, Rukia-chan, Ichi-partner. I know how you,” it points at her, “and you,” it points at him, “work. If I gave you a task like that, a HERO’s task, you would do it in a heartbeat. And you would succeed.”
It pulls its hands back, steeples its fingers again. “But this, a coward’s task? You’ll never do it, either of you. And so...” Its eyes gleam. “It’s the perfect choice.”
All falls silent. Outside, lightning flashes, and the thunder cracks, but it sounds distant, uneasy.
“You look confused, partner,” it says, looking at him. “Rukia-chan hasn’t told you of our discussion yet, has she? Of my birth, and her part in it.” It shakes its head. “She’s a cold, cold bitch, isn’t she?”
Ichigo grips the arms of his chair. It raises its head a little.
“Problem?” it asks, voice soft. “Not like you haven’t said that, thought that, before.”
Ichigo doesn’t reply, and his grip doesn’t relax. It’s right, of course. But that’s HIM. This thing...is him, but still...it shouldn’t say that. It shouldn’t.
“Che,” it says. “You may be right there. I certainly don’t see her that way.” It looks over at Rukia. “She’s warm, to me. Very warm.” Its eyes close a little, face raised as if smelling something good. “You remember that, don’t you, partner? The taste, the smell.” It cocks its head toward him, and grins. “I know you do.”
Ichigo looks down, and his hands tighten on the chair arms until his knuckles turn white. It laughs softly.
“You never told her about that,” it says, “just as she never told you about...us.” It draws out the s, then sighs. “Tsk tsk. The secrets you two keep from each other.” It raises its hand. “I know them all, you know. Could show them to you. I could...”
“STOP,” Rukia says, and it shuts up. She stares at it. “I told you before, don’t you DARE.” Her eyes flick to Ichigo ,then down. “There will be secrets between us,” she says, “as there are secrets between all beings.” Her eyes come up, her voice hardens. “What matters is which secrets we share, by choice. Not the ones we keep.”
It stares at her for a moment, then shakes its head. “Well said, Rukia-chan,” it says, and its voice sounds almost like his. Higher, younger, but closer than before.
It looks at Ichigo. “Youth and wisdom. Speed and power. White and black. See how you complement each other?” It shakes its head. “No. Of course you don’t. You won’t touch her, you won’t kiss her, and heaven forbid you dream of fucking her.”
“Which he has,” it says, looking at Rukia.
“And why, WHY?” it cries, looking back at him. “WHY are these such impossible thoughts? WHY?” It shakes its head again. “I AM you, partner, and even I don’t understand.”
Rukia looks over at Ichigo. His face is down, but even his neck is bright red. His hands clutch the chair arms, shaking a little. He looks like he’s about to jump over the table and throttle the Hollow. He looks like he’s about to break into pieces.
She sighs, a little. And he thought I wouldn’t be able to do this, she thinks. It’s harder to face yourself, though, even if it is twisted and mouthy. That last comment...it made her blush, a little. But it’d also made her that much angrier.
“He’s sixteen,” she says, voice sharp.
The Hollow looks at her.
“I’ve lived longer than he has,” she says. “And I’m...even I’m...not entirely comfortable with such things. How could you expect that, at his age?”
“Heh,” it says. “His peers do well. Mizuiro, Keigo, they don’t have these problems.”
“They’re also morons,” she retorts. “So’s he, but not in that way. And not in the ways that count.”
The Hollow stares at her, eyes slowly narrowing. It glances over at Ichigo, and shakes its head, then looks back at her.
“So it is to be us again, Rukia-chan?” it says, voice quiet. “Just you and me.”
“Better than this,” she replies.
The Hollow looks over at Ichigo again, then nods. It rises. “Right you are, Rukia-chan.” It holds out a hand to her. “Come.”
Rukia doesn’t look at Ichigo as she stands. She touches her sword lightly, then moves toward it. She raises her hand.
“RUKIA!” Ichigo yells, lunging out of his chair. “WAIT.”
She looks at him. “Stay there,” she commands. “I will handle this.” Then, she gives him the faintest smug smile. “I’ll be fine.”
She lays her hand in the Hollow’s. It’s warm, dry, and not quite human to the touch.
The Hollow grins at Ichigo, and pulls her closer to it. “She will be, partner. Don’t worry.”
They vanish.
Ichigo watches Rukia and the Hollow disappear.
He raises his head, and screams.
It’s a sound of pain, anger, and most of all, of frustration. It goes on for a long time.
When he’s done, he stumbles back to the chair, and slumps in it. He reaches for his sword, pulls it around in front of him, and leans his head against it. The metal is cold against his skin. Thunder crackles outside the window.
“Ossan,” he says, “this was the shittiest idea you ever had.”
A moment, then the soft click of heels on the floor. He feels, rather than sees, Zangetsu standing beside him.
“It was necessary,” Zangetsu says.
“Necessary,” Ichigo breathes, hand clutching at the sword hilt. “Necessary for whom? Me? Her?” He grits his teeth, spits out, “She’s gone again.”
Zangetsu says nothing.
“SHE’S GONE,” he shouts, trembling against his sword. “WITH IT. AGAIN.” His voice drops. “And I don’t know how to find her.”
There’s a pause, then Zangetsu places his hand on Ichigo’s shoulder. Ichigo flinches at the touch, but Zangetsu doesn’t pull back.
“Ichigo,” he says, “it did not lie, when it said it was part of you.”
Ichigo curls in tighter. “I knew that,” he says.
“Then you can find it.”
Ichigo raises his head a little, gives Zangetsu a sideways look. “How?”
Zangetsu pulls his hand from Ichigo’s shoulder. “Think, Ichigo!” he commands. “It is part of you, mixed with Hollow. How would you find it?”
Ichigo gives him a blank look. “I’ve always sucked at tracking Hollows,” he says.
Zangetsu just stares back.
Ichigo heaves a sigh, looks away. “This ain’t gonna work, Ossan.”
“You can do nothing without confidence, Ichigo,” he replies, an edge to his voice.
“Right,” Ichigo says, though there’s not a lot of force to it. He closes his eyes, and concentrates.
Another moment passes. Then Zangetsu roars, “Concentrate, Ichigo! Do not let yourself be distracted!” His voice drops back to normal. “Remember why you are doing this. Remember what motivates this search. Think what will happen if you do not succeed.”
Ichigo grimaces, and his eyes squeeze tight. He remembers, for a second, the first time he saw that mark on Rukia’s neck. He remembers, for a second, the look on her face when she saw he knew. He remembers, for a second, her turned back. He remembers, for a second, her walking away.
There’s a blip on his mental radar, a hazy image before his eyes. He focuses in on it, and suddenly, he can feel it, the Hollow. It stands out in his mind like a blot, pulsing darkly.
He opens his eyes. He stands.
“I’m going, Ossan,” he says.
A pause. Then, “Aa.”
Ichigo focuses in on that blot, and closes his eyes. He takes a step, and feels the air contract around him, like the tightening of a fist. There’s a brief moment of darkness.
Then he’s standing against something wet, with rain striking his face and wind howling around him. He opens his eyes to see that he’s in a tree, standing on a wide branch, looking into a lighted window. He blinks at the rain, then inches forward a bit, trying to see more of what’s on the other side of the window.
He has to inch out twice more, so that he stands precariously on the branch, before he can see clearly.
Even then, he’s not sure he believes his eyes.
Rukia’s dancing with the Hollow.
He rubs at his eyes with his fist, then peers back inside.
Yup. Rukia’s still dancing with the Hollow. In a big black dress, too. As he watches, it spins her around, then pulls her back in, tight against its body, before continuing their waltz.
At least she looks like she’s not enjoying it, he thinks.
Much.
He pushes that thought away, and looks from the branch to the window. It’s not a bad jump, but this isn’t the best weather, either, and the sill looks slick. Then he’ll need to break the window to get in...
Wait, he thinks. I can do that from here.
He raises Zangetsu, begins to pull his energy in...and stops.
The Hollow and Rukia have stopped dancing. It still holds her close to itself, but the hand on her waist has tightened, and the look on its face has changed. It says something to her, and its head droops.
Thunder crashes, deafeningly loud. And it looks up, above her head, right at him.
It doesn’t smile. It just looks at him.
Before Ichigo can move, it pulls away from her. Says something. Then pivots around, tugs her after it, and vanishes.
Ichigo grits his teeth, concentrates. After a second, he, too, vanishes.
Rukia opens her eyes just as an enormous crack of thunder sounds.
She’s standing in a large room, done entirely in gold. The tile is patterned in gold, the walls are gilt, and the candles spill bright light from golden holders. Above her, an enormous chandelier hangs down, hundreds of candles burning brightly in its golden cups.
She looks down, and her eyes widen. She’s wearing a long, black dress that poofs out around her. There are frills, ruffles, white lace edging. It has no sleeves; instead, black fabric droops off her shoulders, sitting at the same height as her neckline, which is...rather low. She plucks at the fabric, and a black wooden fan rattles at her wrist. She takes it, holds it up, opens it. It smells of crisp pine.
She lets it fall, then touches her neck with her other hand. Ichigo’s hilt-wrap remains firmly in place.
“Like it, Rukia-chan?”
She looks over at the Hollow. It’s wearing something...very ornate, and odd looking. An overcoat of white that falls past its waist, covered in bright yellow buttons. Short pants of white that stop at its knees. Black, sheer socks of some sort, ending in white shoes with black buckles. Black lace spills from its throat, its wrists. When it notices her looking at it, it steps forward and points one foot.
“What is this place?” she asks. “It looks...familiar.”
It grins, though not in its usual way. It seems shy, somehow. “Another memory,” he says. “From a movie he liked.” It raises one finger to its lips. “Not that he’d ever admit that.”
There’s another rumble of thunder, loud and harsh, and the Hollow looks up for a moment. Then it looks back down at her, and grins. “Do you dance, Rukia-chan?”
She shakes her head. “Not like this.”
That grin again, the almost shy one. “It’s easy,” he says. “You’ll be fine.” He extends a hand to her.
She stares at it.
“Come on, Rukia-chan,” it says, voice strangely kind. “I won’t hurt you.”
She looks at it, then at its outstretched hand. She sighs. If this is what she needs to do to buy Ichigo time to get himself together...so be it.
She steps forward, and takes its hand.
Its grin widens, and pulls her closer, right up against it. Her eyes widen. “What...what are you doing?”
“Rukia-chan,” it says, voice gentle. “This,” it puts her hand on its shoulder, then places that hand on her waist, “is how we dance.”
Music starts up in the background, a slow, bouncing melody. It rocks the both of them back and forth for a moment. “Three beats,” it says. “One-two-three, one-two-three.”
She sways with it, and listens. After a moment, she hears them. “One-two-three, one-two-three,” she repeats.
It smiles at her, and there’s almost no malice in it. “You got it,” it says, and pulls her out onto the floor.
The next few moments show that she doesn’t quite get it. However, she’s a quick learner, and within a few minutes, they make an entire circuit without her stepping on its foot once. In the next circuit, she doesn’t miss a beat once.
“How...how did you learn to do this?” she asks, as thunder booms out again.
“I have time,” he says simply. “It’s not like I have much to do, aside from flip through his memories and stand in the rain.” He thinks for a moments. “Well, sometimes I eat dinner with Zangetsu-san, too.”
“You and Zangetsu?” she asks.
His grin is sheepish now. “We’re not enemies, you know,” he says. “Zangetsu-san and I.” He looks away. “He wasn’t ready for me for awhile, so Zangetsu-san held me in check.” The edges of his eyes soften. “Until he needed me.”
Then he looks back at her, smiles wider. “Ready to try a turn?”
“Uh...all right,” she says, and lets him guide her through it. As they do, the thunder crashes down again.
“Good, good,” he says, pulling her back to him. They make another circuit, adding in turns here and there, in silence.
This is so strange, she thinks. A few minutes ago, he was cocky and cold. Now he’s...nice.
“Rukia-chan,” he says, his voice quiet. “You seem far away.”
“Oh, sorry,” she says, then blinks, stares at him. “Sorry,” she repeats, voice misty. She raises her head. “I’ve never said that to a Hollow.”
One side of its grin falters, and the music in the background skips, then stops. He, too, stops.
“I’m still just a Hollow, then?” he says, grip tightening on her hand, her waist. “Is that all?”
She gives him a shocked look, then asks, “What else could you be?”
It stares back down at her. The grin is gone, and its grip is hard on her hand, tense at her waist.
“I thought...” it says, gritting its teeth. “I thought you might...”
Her eyes widen. “That I might what?” she says, voice careful.
It stares down at her, and there’s a flicker of something it its eyes. Something...almost human.
Then, its eyes close. Its head lowers. Its grip loosens. “Nothing,” it says.
Rukia blinks, her mind a-whirl . Did he...did it...just...what did it...
At that moment, the thunder crashes down again, loud and close.
It raises its head, looks out the window. The corners of its eyes twitch, and its mouth turns down.
It pulls back from her, but still keeps a grip on her hand. “Come on, Rukia-chan,” it says. “We need to go elsewhere. Somewhere...more private.”
It turns away, tugs her along after it, walking away fast as the world dissolves around them. Unable to look at it, she closes her eyes.
When Ichigo opens his eyes this time, he’s standing on a landing. Before him are stairs, leading down. He turns, looks behind him; there are stairs there, too, leading up.
He looks between the two staircases, and says, to no one in particular, “I hate fucking stairs.”
Then he closes his eyes, and concentrates again. His brow furrows, and when he opens his eyes, he looks between the staircases again.
“I really, really,” he says, as he turns to the staircase leading up, “hate fucking stairs.” He puts away Zangetsu, and starts up them.
After a few flights, he realizes, And it probably knows that, too.
He keeps running.
After some number of flights--he lost count at twelve--he stops on a landing, leans against the wall, catches his breath. The stairs above him stretch away, seemingly without end.
He stares up them, and growls, “This isn’t going to stop me.”
There’s a sound, almost like laughter. Then, softly, Stop? No. Delay? More soft giggling. Yes.
Ichigo launches himself up the stairs. He barely notices the flights passing underneath him until, suddenly, there’s no more. He faces a blank wall, with a corridor to the left, and one to the right.
Which way, partner? Which way?
Ichigo concentrates, then spins left, races down the hall. When he hits a fork there, he pauses only a moment before dashing down a branch. He fixes on the blot in his mind, keeps it before him always, until the rest of the world drops away.
He doesn’t know how long he runs. He only knows that the closer he gets, the darker it becomes, the harder it beats at his brain.
The closer he gets to Rukia.
Rukia opens her eyes.
She’s sitting on a white bed, surrounded by white curtains. She moves to the edge, pulls them aside, looks out. She gapes.
She’s in a cave of some sort, a long room with a low ceiling. The bed sits near a still, black lake; the wall off to her right curves in close to the lake, then away, blocking her view of the rest of the room. There are candles everywhere. Candles sit in niches in the wall, in large black-armed candle holders, in smaller ones on the table. There’s even candles floating on the lake. The effect is a room ablaze in light, though it does nothing for the cool, damp air.
Rukia looks down, and makes a face. She’s wearing another dress, black again, only this one seems to have ruffles and frills and no actual substance. Or sleeves, for that matter. Or anything resembling a proper bodice. She raises her wrist, and the fan clacks against her arm again. She holds it up, and notices now that it’s attached to her wrist by a white ribbon.
Music sounds, a long, low note, and she jumps. She looks around, but can’t see anyone there. Anxiety bubbles up in her; the Hollow usually shows itself fairly quickly. If it is hiding...
She slides off the bed, holding the fan carefully in her hand. Her bare feet touch the floor, and she makes a face at the touch of the cold, damp rock. She takes a few steps, and her dress rustles; she gives it annoyed look, rolls her eyes, and proceeds as quietly as she can.
The music has faded to the background, and now it rises again, a series of loud scales. She creeps to the wall, and follows it as it curves close to the lake. The stones under her feet are slick and cold, though the water sits a few feet away. Once she rounds the corner, she can see the rest of the cave itself. This section, too, is full of light, candles placed everywhere they can be.
She sees the Hollow now. Its back is to her, draped in a white cape. It sits at a large, odd looking device: large pipes rise above its head, apparently stuck in a larger box of dark wood. Its fingers run back and forth over a black and white row; its feet work something beneath the box. It takes her a second to realize that this is where the music is coming from. She watches it for a moment, as it rocks back and forth, then turns and looks back. Farther down the shore of the lake, there’s a small dock, with a boat tied to it. It is black, in the shape of a swan. She looks at it, considers going to it, then turns back and looks at the Hollow.
She shakes her head, then begins to pick her way across the rocks towards it.
Despite the rustling of her dress, it doesn’t seem to notice her. Occasionally, it stops playing and makes a note on the sheet in front of it, but it doesn’t look back at her. In fact, it’s not until she is standing much closer to it that it stops playing all together.
“Rukia-chan,” it says, then turns towards her slightly. A white mask, glowing in the light, covers this side of its face. “Welcome.” Its voice is low, dark, quiet.
She stops. “What is this place?” she asks.
It turns more towards her, and giggles softly. “Like it?” it says, an odd hiss in its voice. “It’s my lair.”
From this angle, she can see that its mask resembles that of a Hollow: a deep, narrow eye socket, the lack of nose, the impression of teeth. Unconsciously, she takes a step back, then forces herself to stop. Her hand tightens on the fan.
It turns even more on the bench, so that she can see the mask only covers half of its face. The eye in the other half seems larger somehow, the yellow-orange iris brighter. “Something wrong, Rukia-chan?” it asks, then giggles softly.
She nearly takes another step back, but manages to stay still. “Yes, there’s something wrong,” she says. “It’s cold, and there’s not enough of this damn dress.” She pulls at the fabric. “Low cut, slit high, and TIGHT! Who would wear such a thing?”
The Hollow stares at her, then looks down a little. “Oh no, Rukia-chan,” it says, rising. “I think it looks...just fine.” It raises its head, and its iris flexes. “Perfect, in fact.”
Now she does back away from it, a quick skitter of steps. It takes one slow, deliberate step towards her, and she forces herself to stop, to hold still. It takes another slow step.
“You’ve never seen this, have you?” it says, brushing its fingers over the mask.
She shakes her head.
“It’s mine. And his,” it says, lowering its hand to its side. Her eyes follow it, widen as the fingers flex and curl. “His, if he’d ever accept it.”
“He won’t,” she says, but the spark of defiance is gone from her voice.
It nods, takes another slow step towards her. “I know,” it says, and for a moment, its voice sounds calmer, more like before. It stands still for a moment, and adds quietly, “And neither will you.”
She stares at it for a moment, aghast. Her hands clench into fists. “Is that what this was about?” she asks. “All of this?”
It says nothing.
“How could I?” she shouts, then points at her neck. “How could I, after this?”
The Hollow takes another step towards her, and another. She stays still, looks up at it with angry eyes. It raises a hand, and tilts it.
Unwillingly, Rukia’s head tilts to the side, also. She grits her teeth, pushes against it, but it won’t move.
It takes another step towards her, and a final one. It stands above her, looking down at her for a moment. Then it raises a hand, and brushes its fingers across her neck. The touch is light, oddly tender, and the mark pulses with heat.
“I wanted to meet you for so long, Rukia-chan,” it says. “I had heard...so much about you, in his thoughts. Seen you in his memories. I thought...I thought that maybe...”
It stops, lowers its head. In this light, the mark running down from its eye looks oddly like a tear.
“I thought wrong, though.”
Its hand clenches at its side, and it raises its head, grinning broadly.
“You will never see me as anything but a Hollow,” it says. “His Hollow. An invader, a pest, to be rooted out and cleansed from his system.” Its hand curves around her neck, touch light. “Even though I AM HIM. I am everything he has pushed back, put away. Every dark corner of his mind, every ugly thought, is embodied in ME.” It laughs, softly. “And he will never be rid of me.”
It raises its head. “Will you, Ichigo?”
Ichigo stumbles down a flight of stairs, presses forward, and bursts into a cave.
The lights blind him for a second, and he hears the Hollow say, “And he will never be rid of me.”
His vision clears, and he looks across the cave. The Hollow stands before Rukia, its hand on her neck. It looks up at him now, and says, “Will you, Ichigo?”
He sees Rukia stiffen. He pulls Zangetsu from his back, and takes up a fighting stance. “No,” he pants. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll beat me.”
He swallows more air, then says, “This ends. Now.”
The Hollow tilts its head, and lets out that little giggle. It pulls its hand from Rukia’s neck, and steps away from her. It takes a few steps toward him, and it seems like the Hollow mask begins to glow.
“Does it?” it says. “Really now, partner...does it?”
It raises a hand.
Something drops around Ichigo’s neck and squeezes.
The pressure on Rukia’s neck falls away, and she whirls around. The Hollow stands a few feet from her, hand raised in the air. It’s laughing, and the sound sends chills up her spine.
She looks across the lake, and sees Ichigo. His head is thrown back, and one hand is at his throat, as if trying to pull something away.
“Did you forget, partner?” the Hollow laughs. “Your hand at the level of your eyes!” It giggles again, and clenches its hand.
Ichigo lets out a gasp, and it looks like he’s lifted from the floor. Zangetsu drops, and both hands go to his throat, trying to pull something away.
It’s choking him, she thinks. But how? With what? I can’t see anything!
Ichigo makes a gagging, desperate noise. His chest heaves, and he struggles furiously against whatever holds him.
“It ends, partner?” the Hollow laughs. “You fool!” It relaxes its hand, and Ichigo manages to draw in a breath. Then it clenches it tight again.
Rukia looks around wildly. I’ve got to stop him, she thinks. But with what? With WHAT?
She turns towards the Hollow again, and the fan rattles against her hand.
She looks down at it, then picks it up in her hand. For a moment, her vision blurs, and it’s not a fan she’s holding. It’s a sword.
She blinks, and the vision disappears. But the feeling of a sword in her hand...remains.
She steps forward, and it sounds like a sandal sliding against rock. She crouches, moves the fan to her side, other hand falling to clasp it, like a sheath around a sword. She glares at the Hollow.
Its head is thrown back, and it’s laughing. A high, loud, cold laugh, as it clenches and relaxes its hand, cuts off and allows Ichigo’s life. It’s a laugh she’s heard so many times before, in her dreams.
She pulls the fan from her side, from the sheath of her hand, and it sounds like a sword.
She moves.
One moment, it’s laughing, head tilted back. The next, it chokes, blinks. Drops its hand, as blood sprays from its wrist. Drops its hand, as Rukia lands lightly on the other side.
She turns towards it. She’s dressed as shinigami, sword in hand. She holds it out to the side, and flicks her wrist, sending drops of blood off the end.
On the other side of the room, Ichigo falls to the floor, gasping.
It stares at her, dumbfounded. “Rukia...chan,” it whispers.
“It may not end here, for good,” she says, holding her sword up. She grips it with her other hand, and steps forward, sandal rasping against the rock. “But for now...it ends.” She tightens her grip. “IT ENDS!”
She charges.
What happens next, happens fast.
It reaches out, and bats her blade aside, easily as if it were flicking off a fly. Then, before she can recover, it grabs her sword hand, pulls her close. She looks up, face tense. It looks back, face serene.
“Ah, Rukia-chan,” he says, other hand brushing her face. “That’s my girl.”
Then it pulls her close, and kisses her.
She gasps against its mouth, eyes wide. Even though it wears a mask, all she feels are its lips, warm and dry against hers.
It pulls away after a moment. It smiles.
Then, its grip changes, and it throws her away.
She lands on her back, but is up a second later, sword still in hand. Its back is to her, and it’s walking back to where it sat at earlier.
She takes a grip on her sword again, and tenses.
It stops. Raises a hand.
“Go,” it says, voice soft.
She doesn’t move.
It turns its head a little, and shrieks, “DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME? GO!”
Rukia turns, and flees.
She runs out onto the dock, tenses, and jumps across the lake. She lands by Ichigo, still holding his throat and gasping for air.
She kneels by him, and says, “You all right?”
He gives her a dark look.
“All right, no,” she says, a touch of humor in her voice. She gets his arm over her shoulder, and rises, lifting him back to his feet.
“Rukia...you...” he coughs out.
“Fine, fine,” she says. “But we have to go.”
He gets his balance back, then reaches down and picks up Zangetsu. He straightens, and looks across the lake at the Hollow.
“Ichigo,” she hisses. “Come on.”
But he just stands there, looking at it.
A moment later, the Hollow says, “Partner.”
Ichigo stiffens.
“You have three days,” it says, sitting down on its bench. “You know the cure now. Three days should be enough.”
She tugs on his arm. “Ichigo, come ON,” she says. “Don’t make me drag you out of here!”
Ichigo stares across the lake for another moment, then looks back at her. There’s a dark, bitter look in his eyes.
Then, his face tightens, becomes slightly more normal, and he says, “Aa.”
As they turn towards the passage, the Hollow’s hands come down on the row of keys.
The music echoes around them, loud and sad, long after they should no longer hear it.
Ichigo opens his eyes, and the familiar sight of his ceiling greets him.
He takes a breath, and it hurts. But still, he’s alive.
He looks over at Rukia. Her eyes are still closed, her hand still on his. As he watches, color rises to her face, and she takes a long, deep breath. Her eyes open.
She looks at him, and lowers her head. Then, she pulls her hand back, and rises.
He sits up quickly. “Rukia,” he rasps, then coughs. His throat feels raw, and he wonders if there’s a mark there. Heh, he thinks. Fitting.
She looks down at him, and he can’t read the look on her face. Then she looks away.
“I’m tired, Ichigo,” she says, then turns away from him. She starts towards the door.
“Rukia,” he says, urgency in his voice.
She stops.
“Three days,” he says.
“Hm,” she says, one hand reaching up to her neck. Then, it drops down, and she says softly, “It lies, Ichigo.”
“What?”
“It won’t kill me,” she says.
“But, Rukia...”
“Ichigo,” she says. “Go to sleep.”
She takes one step, and collapses.
9958 words
Much of this was written in chat with Merry. Its original structure was long chunk of Rukia, long chunk of Ichigo, the final confrontation, and the final scene.
I don’t want to do this.
I don’t want to do this.
I don’t want to go back there.
I don’t want to face this.
I don’t want to see him again.
I don’t want to...
...but I have to stop running.
“Zangetsu.”
A moment. Then, out of the corner of his eye, a swirl of black coat. He turns a little to see him, standing easily on the slope of the tiled roof.
He looks up, meets his eyes. “Ossan,” he says, “we need to talk.”
“Aa,” Zangetsu says.
I don’t want to do this. If there were anyway but this...
Ichigo shakes the thought off, then looks up at him again. “So,” he says, starting to rise, “let’s go.”
Zangetsu sits down beside him.
Ichigo freezes, then slowly lowers himself back to the roof. He stares at him for a moment, then says, “What’s going on?”
Zangetsu doesn’t look at him. “We will not go there.”
Well. Ichigo doesn’t want to do that anyways, but he’s kinda pissed off that he worked up the courage for nothing. “Why not?” he demands.
Zangetsu gives him that sideways look. “You are not ready,” he says.
Ichigo starts to protest, but Zangetsu continues, “And she is not with you.”
“She...? RUKIA?” Ichigo asks. “You gotta be kidding me! There’s no way in HELL she’s going back there.”
Zangetsu faces forward again, and is quiet for a moment. “Then,” he finally says, “she will die.”
Ichigo stares at him in shock, then looks away. “No,” he says. “That’s bullshit.”
“It is fact.”
“No, it’s BULLSHIT!” Ichigo yells, turning back to him. “We’ve fought Hollows before, and they don’t DO that sort of SHIT! They just attempt to eat...” He stops, and his eyes go wide. “Are you saying...no, that’s not...that’s FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE.”
Zangetsu doesn’t respond, nor look at him.
Ichigo stops, and then quietly, almost as if speaking to himself, “Are you saying he’s eating her soul through that bite?”
Now Zangetsu looks at him, just a little. “Aa.”
“HOW?”
Zangetsu looks away again. “It is a powerful thing. It left a,” he pauses, as if he doesn’t know the word, “leech, you would call it. Something that would feed on her power indefinitely, until that power was exhausted.” Another pause. “I did not sense its presence when I healed her, else I would’ve removed it. Now, it is too deeply embedded for me to do that.” He looks at Ichigo. “He is the only one who can.”
Ichigo stares at him, absorbing the information. After a while, he says, “Is that why she couldn’t heal it? Or Inoue?”
“Aa.” A pause. “It is possible that it was not active when I healed her. Therefore, I could not sense it. It was her own healing, then, that activated it.” Another pause. “Once it was tied to that, Inoue’s abilities wouldn’t have recognized it.”
Ichigo’s eyes narrow, and he goes very still, very quiet. Finally, he says, “What you’re saying is, Inoue’s healing...would’ve seen it as another part of Rukia’s body, and wouldn’t have tried to heal it.”
“Yes.”
“That’s awfully fuckin’ smart for a Hollow.”
“It is, as I said, a powerful thing. It grows in many ways.”
“Well, how am I supposed to stop it then? How can I beat it, if it’s so strong and smart and growing all the time?” The words come out bitter, angry, hopeless.
Zangetsu gives him a disapproving look. “Is that your aim?”
“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” he asks.
Zangetsu says nothing, and Ichigo feels his face slowly change, going from anger to confusion to even more confusion. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” he asks again.
Zangetsu rises. “She does not have much time, Ichigo,” he says. “Do not wait overlong.”
“Wait!” he cries out. “How the hell am I supposed to explain this to her? How’s she supposed to get there? WHAT THE HELL...”
But Zangetsu is gone.
Ichigo spends a day trying to figure out what to say to Rukia.
For one, he’s still not entirely fine with her. Despite what she said, he’s still a little angry about her telling Karin everything. But even putting that aside, how’s he supposed to explain this to her? “So Rukia, I talked to Zangetsu. He says that thing on your neck is going to kill you, unless we go talk to the Hollow again. Oh, and it has to be soon.”
She’d look at him like he was crazy. And she’d be right.
He’s debating the possibility of just writing her a note and slipping it under the door when he runs into Yoruichi.
Sorta.
More like she drops onto his head.
“OW!” he hisses, then glares at her as she bounces down to the sidewalk. “DAMN CAT.”
“Ossu, Ichigo!”
He stops. “Yoruichi-san?” he asks, rubbing his head.
She raises a paw. “Know any other cats that talk?”
“No.”
“Well, then, who else would it be?” She gives him a knowing look.
He has no answer for that.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“Been followin’ you,” she says.
“WHAT? Why?”
“Heh. Maybe you should ask me that around fewer people?” she says.
He looks around, notices a few people giving him odd looks. He turns back. “Fine,” he huffs. “Come on.”
She follows him down the street for awhile, then asks, “Are we going to your house, Ichigo?”
“NO.”
“Aw, I’ve always wanted to see your room!”
“NO.”
“Afraid I’ll find your porn? I always find Kisuke’s so quickly, it’s like he doesn’t even bother to hide it!”
“DEFINITELY NOT.”
“Come on, Ichigo, it’s a perfectly healthy thing...”
He tunes her out, then and there.
He leads her down to the river, and under the closest bridge. He stops in the shadow, turns, and tunes her back in.
“...I mean, Soi Fong had that problem, too, and I fixed it for her!”
“Yoruichi-san,” he says, and she stops. She looks around.
“Here?” she asks.
“Yup,” he says, sitting down. “No one comes down here, besides the gangs.” He smiles a little, flashes teeth. “And they know better than to deal with Kurosaki Ichigo.”
“Heh,” she says, and if cats could grin, he’s sure she would be grinning at him.
She pads over and sits in front of him. She lowers her head for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts, then says, “There’s something wrong with Rukia.”
The smile vanishes from his face. “Is that it, then?” he says quietly.
She looks up at him. “You knew?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know what caused it?”
“Yeah.”
“Ha! I knew you would know.” She turns her head to the side. “I’ve never sensed anything quite like it before,” she says. “It doesn’t smell like a Hollow, but it feels like one, right around the edges. Almost as if there’s a Hollow masking itself in her aura.” She shakes her head. “But that can’t be true.”
He stares at her. A Hollow, wrapped in Rukia’s aura. That sounded like what Zangetsu had said.
She smacks his knee with her paw. “Don’t just look at me like that! What caused it? Kisuke says he knows, but then Kisuke says that about everything.”
Ichigo looks down. “Yoruichi-san...you know...what’s inside me.” It’s not a question.
“Ara?” She blinks, then says, in an odd voice, “Ichigo...”
“It bit her.”
“But...how?” She sounds genuinely puzzled.
He looks at her, doesn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t know,” he says angrily. “I only found out what it was recently. I don’t know how it happened.” His voice drops. “And it’s not like she’s going to tell me.”
Yoruichi says nothing, but puts her paw on his knee again.
“It’s going to kill her, Yoruichi-san.” It comes out almost easily now. It shouldn’t be that easy to say, as if he was used to that idea.
“Ichigo...Kisuke might...”
He shakes his head. “Urahara can’t fix it, and neither can you. It has to be fixed by...it. The Hollow itself.”
She says nothing for a moment, then quietly, “Zangetsu told you that?”
He nods.
“Do you believe him?”
He meets her eyes for a moment, as if she’s asked him a dumb question. But it’s not, he realizes. It’s really not.
“Yes,” he says. “He...somehow he helped Rukia, before. I believe he’s right.”
“All right,” she replies. “Then...what are you waiting for?”
He stares at her. “Yoruichi-san,” he says, “how the hell am I supposed to tell Rukia that? How can I tell her that the thing on her neck is going to kill her, unless she goes and meets with the same thing that gave it to her? How the HELL am I supposed to tell her that? Walk up to her and say, ‘Hey Rukia, wanna die? No? Gotta meet my Hollow again, then. NO REALLY, I’M SERIOUS’.” He gives her a dark look. “That’d go over well.”
Unspoken is the question: And what if she says she won’t??
Yoruichi meets his eyes for a moment.
Then she paces back a few steps, crouches, and leaps. The trajectory carries her smack into his head, which snaps back into the girder behind him. He lets out a yelp, and holds his head. “OW!” he says, as she lands beside him. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?”
“For being stupid, Ichigo,” she says, turning to face him. “Isn’t that why people usually hit you?”
“NO.”
She gives him a look, and he slowly lowers his hand. “Maybe,” he mutters.
“Che,” she says. “Idiot boy.” She paces in front of him. “Would you give up that easily?”
“Huh?”
She glares at him again. “You heard me. Would you give up that easily? That’s not the Ichigo I know. That’s not the Ichigo who faced down Abarai Renji and Zaraki Kenpachi. That’s not the Ichigo who nearly charged Kuchiki Byakuya without any sort of proper training. That’s not the Ichigo who achieved Bankai in less than three days. THAT Ichigo wouldn’t back down, just because he’s afraid of his own shadow!”
“Yoruichi..!”
“AND you seem to think Rukia’s got the brains of a gnat,” she snaps. “She may be afraid of this thing, she may be more afraid of it than YOU are, but she’s not going to waste away because of it. She would fight.” She glares at him. “Won’t you?”
He remembers, then, his dream. Just before the Hollow charged Rukia, she had yelled something. He’d thought he hadn’t heard it, but now it drifted up in his mind.
”Yes, I will. I told you, Ichigo’s strong.” A pause. “Stronger than the both of us.”
He looks down at Yoruichi, and nods.
Her glare lessens just a little. “Good, good.” She turns, starts to walk away. “I’ll leave that to you then.”
He blinks at her. “But, Yoruichi-san,” he says. “I’m not sure how.”
She looks back at him. “Ask her how she did it in the first place,” she says, then turns back, and trots off.
He watches her for a moment, then looks away. “She’ll never tell me that,” he murmurs to himself.
Then he pushes himself off the ground, slings his bag over his shoulder, and follows. “But it doesn’t hurt to try asking.” He thinks about Rukia, and grimaces. “Well, it might,” he adds. “But it’s not like there’s any other options left.”
Rukia turns out to be far more amenable and reasonable about things than he’d guessed. Who’d have known?
Later, that night, she sits next to his bed. He lies there, hands folded across his chest, staring at the ceiling. He’s not looking at her; in fact, he’s avoided looking at her since she sat down there.
“Ready?” she says.
He nods, and she starts to lay her hand on his.
“Wait.”
She stops. “What?” she asks, quick and quiet.
“Where’s Kon? I don’t want him to...”
“Next door, Ichigo,” she says, with that little exasperated note at the end of her voice. “He says he’s staying with Karin until you apologize.”
“So she’s not gonna come in either, then.”
“No.” She shifts a little in her seat. “Why?”
“Last time...he affected her, too,” he says, then looks at her. “I don’t want that to happen again.”
“Oh. Well, she should be all right, as long as you don’t suddenly run to the next room.”
“Could that happen?”
“Ichigo...”
“Could it?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “When I was drawn into your inner world, the experience lasted at least an hour. Out here, it was less than a second, the space of a breath.” Her eyes sharpen on him. “So stop worrying.”
“Ah. Right. I remember that, now.” He looks back at the ceiling.
“Ready?” There’s a hint of exasperation in her voice.
“Yeah.”
She brings her hand up again, and starts to bring it down on his, when he says, “Rukia.”
“WHAT NOW?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she bites out.
“No, I mean...are you sure you can do this?” He makes a gesture towards his head.
She sighs. “Pretty sure,” she says. “Zangetsu said you couldn’t go without me, right?”
He nods.
“Then he’ll draw me in, if I make myself known.”
“And I should already be there.”
“Right.”
“You sure?”
“YES, Ichigo.”
“All right then. Let’s go.”
He closes his eyes.
There’s a dropping sensation, as if the bottom of the bed had fallen out beneath him. He opens his eyes, sure he’ll still be in his room.
He’s not. He’s standing on the side of a building, strongly outlined in blue. Above him, the clouds skate across the sky at a tilted angle. He takes a breath, frowns; it smells like it’s rained, and recently.
He looks down, making sure he’s dressed as a shinigami. He is. He reaches back, finds Zangetsu’s sword hilt. The touch of the tang reassures him a little, and he squeezes it once before dropping his hand.
Now, where was Rukia...
There’s a sound, sort of like the clatter of blinds, and she drops down next to him. She crouches for a moment, touches the glass beneath her feet, then stands. He’s envious, for a moment, of her easy confidence here.
She looks at him, and he looks back. “What now?” he asks.
She looks around, grimaces. “We wait, I guess.”
“Hell with that,” he says, then hollers, “OI!”
The sound echoes among the buildings, and seems to bounce around the world. She glares at him. “What was the point of that?” she asks.
He senses it a moment before it appears, and turns.
It’s standing on the edge of a break between buildings. “That,” he says softly, as it looks at them, and grins.
“Partner!” it crows. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon!”
Rukia moves out from beside him, and its eyes brighten. “And Rukia-chan, too,” it says, grin broadening to a look that makes Ichigo want to step between them. “Well, well.” It raises a hand, waves. “YO, Rukia-chan!”
To Rukia’s credit, she stays still, and says nothing. He barely notices how her hand tightens on her sword.
The Hollow’s grin widens a touch more, then it looks back at him. “So, partner,” it says. “What brings you here?”
He glances at Rukia, then steps forward. “We need to talk to you,” he says.
“Talk? To me?” The Hollow giggles. “Oh, good. I have so much to say...but wait. Why the both of you?”
“You know why,” Rukia says, voice low.
“Oh?” It cocks its head. “Do I?” That grin again, only with a trace of hardness at the edges. “How could I...when I can’t see it?”
It moves, and Ichigo turns, reaching for Zangetsu. It appears behind her, one hand on her shoulder, and with the other, touches her neck. The scarf dissolves under its fingers.
“Better,” it says, in a whispery voice, fingers moving lightly above the mark.
Then Rukia tenses, leaps away from it. She comes down with her hand on her sword hilt, but she doesn’t draw.
The Hollow looks at him, raises an eyebrow. “Touchy, isn’t she?” it says.
Ichigo says nothing, one hand tight at his side. The mark on the side of her neck no longer resembles a bite, a hickey, a tear in her skin. It looks like someone has painted the side of her neck in crimson, purple, the colors shadowing the major artery there. It’s started to creep down to her collarbone, up to her jaw.
“Isn’t it lovely?” the Hollow says.
Ichigo glares at it, and its expression blanks for a moment. Then it grins again, and says, “Not that I’d expect either of you to appreciate it.”
Ichigo looks to Rukia, but she’s still, face grim. One hand flexes at her side, as if she’s trying to prevent it from rising, covering her neck.
He draws Zangetsu.
“Partner!” the Hollow says, looking surprised.
He ignores it, turns away, deliberately showing it his back. He moves to Rukia, sets Zangetsu on its tip, and unwraps the hilt. He pulls off a good amount of wrap, then pulls it down across the blade edge. It cuts easily, and he hands it to Rukia.
Her eyes widen briefly, then she nods, takes it. He looks back at the Hollow, and sheathes Zangetsu.
It’s giving the two of them an oddly appraising look. Then, it ducks its head. “So sorry, Rukia-chan,” it says lightly. “I didn’t realize it was such a sensitive thing.”
It raises its hand, flicks its fingers.
Ichigo looks back to see the scarf, or one that looks exactly like it, drape around Rukia’s neck.
She looks down at it in surprise, then her eyes narrow. She pulls it off, glares past him at the Hollow, then drops it. She reaches up, finishes winding the wrap around her neck, then ties it off on the other side. It looks a little skewed, and it doesn’t completely cover the wound, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
He looks at the Hollow, tilts his head.
The Hollows scowls at him a moment, then shakes its head. “So it goes,” it says, then grins wryly. “There’ll be other times.” It gives a little laugh, one with an edge to it.
Then it looks up at the sky, and makes a face. “I’m tired of being in the rain,” it says, voice petulant. “Shall we try someplace else?”
It snaps its fingers.
It seems to Ichigo that the world tilts, then whirls around that new axis. His hands come up in front of his face, blocking the view.
A moment, and Rukia says, “Ichigo. You can look now.”
He puts his arms down, looks around. His eyes widen. “Where are we?” he asks, looking back at Rukia.
“Another part of your head, in a way,” she says. “It can create illusions of different places, taken from your memories.”
“It can?” he asks. “I didn’t know that.”
She looks down. “I did.”
He frowns at her, then looks around, still amazed. They're in a room of some sort, one that looks like it hasn't been used in a long time. They’re both sitting in rather comfortable chairs, green in color; she wears her sword, while Zangetsu leans on the chair next to him. There’s a small table before her, and beyond that, a faded red chair, empty. Another table sits next to it, with an old style black phone on its surface. Beyond Rukia is a dead fireplace with a large, dead clock on its mantel. A faint light hangs far above them, and most of the room lies in shadow. Outside, rain slashes down, and there’s a rumble of thunder in the distance.
A cup of tea sits on the table in front of Rukia. She notices it, grimaces, and says darkly, “Tea. Again.”
“Again?” he says, but at that moment, a soft giggle comes from the chair across from them. They both come to attention.
The Hollow appears in the chair, as if it slides from the shadows themselves. It’s wearing a long, shiny white coat, lined in black, and white pants. Its shirt is more of a vest, with glittering yellow buttons down the front. A short yellow tie hangs down over that. It wears rimless dark glasses and a wide grin.
“Rukia-chan wasn’t fond of the tea last time,” it explains. “I thought she might want to try it again.”
Rukia glares, and pushes the cup away from her. The Hollow looks down at it, shakes its head, then looks up at him.
“She thinks it’ll hurt her somehow,” it says, pulling the cup closer. Tea sloshes over the sides. “She’s wrong. It’s just tea. Her tea, in fact.” He takes a sip, sighs. “Delicious.” He sets the cup down.
Rukia does not look pleased, so Ichigo says, “What’s all this for?”
“This?” The Hollow leans back in its chair, steeples its fingers in front of its face. “You wanted to talk, didn’t you, partner?”
“Stop calling him that,” Rukia says suddenly. “You aren’t partners.”
The Hollow cocks its head. “Ah yes, Rukia-chan,” it says. “About that.” It moves forward. “You’re wrong.”
Ichigo doesn’t look at her. He doesn’t want to see her expression.
“Wrong?” she says, voice defiant. “How?”
It raises its eyebrows, then leans back. “I’m glad you asked! You see...” It stops, frowns. “I think we’ll need an illustration for this.”
It turns, waves a hand. A picture rolls down beside him. He guesses it’s a side view of him, though it looks a little like it was drawn by Rukia. The Hollow reaches in its coat, pulls out a pointer, and flicks it at the page.
“Now, this is Ichigo,” it says. It taps the picture, and another side view appears, back to back with the previous. It also looks a little like it was drawn by Rukia. “And that’s me.” He turns back, points the pointer at Rukia. “You are under the impression that we’re two separate entities in one body, like so.” It flicks the pointer at the picture, and the two drawings merge messily, overlapping each other.
It looks back at her, and taps the pointer in its other hand. “This, if you’d bothered to think about it for two seconds, is obviously wrong.”
“How so?” Rukia challenges.
“Ah, well, because it’s more like...this.” It flicks the pointer again, and suddenly there’s only one drawing. This one is bisected down the middle, and one of those halves is colored in.
“One mind, one body,” it says. “No difference. The only thing is, I’ve got a little extra force behind me that allows me to take a separate form from him.” It plucks at its collar, shakes it at her. “I still look like him, though.”
“You smell like a Hollow,” she says, voice dark.
It smiles at her, a not entirely pleasant smile. “That’s my extra oomph, dear,” it says. “I was given form,” it flicks the pointer at him, “by his partial transformation into a Hollow. I, his desires, his greatest wants, his most repressed emotions. And he has an AWFUL lot of those.” The grin widens. “Isn’t that right, partner?”
Ichigo lowers his head a little, and very carefully doesn’t look at Rukia.
“See? SEE, Rukia-chan! He agrees, ‘cause he knows. He knows I’ve always been around, in some form or another.” It cackles again. “Though I got a great boost even before now. From just before you turned ten, one rainy June, eh Ichigo?”
Ichigo’s head comes up, and his eyes blaze. The Hollow looks at him, and laughs.
“I’m glad you recognize that, partner,” it says, voice merry. “But now, now, I shouldn’t just pick on you. Rukia’s got her share of things we can talk about, too.” It gestures at the sheet.
A man appears. He’s tall, dark haired, blue eyed. He wears a shinigami uniform with a vice-captain’s badge on his arm.
He looks strikingly like what Ichigo sees in the mirror in the morning. There’s little differences, here and there, but otherwise...it’s similar. Really similar.
“This,” the Hollow says, turning towards it, “is Kaien. Shiba Kaien. He was Rukia-chan’s vice-captain.” It spins back around, holds the pointer in both hands. “Guess what she did to him?”
Ichigo looks at Rukia. She’s gone white, and her hands curl on her lap.
The Hollow laughs, low and proud. “Yup! That’s the guy she didn’t tell you about the other night.” His grin widens. “Don’t look so surprised. I can occasionally see what you’re doing up there, and I have access to your memories.” It winks. “Cranes were certainly a nice touch.”
Ichigo’s jaw tightens.
It looks back at the drawing. “He certainly looks like us, doesn’t he?” it says, then turns back at Ichigo. “I wonder if I should draw that picture, too,” it says, voice thoughtful. “Or maybe a poem is better! ‘Rukia-chan’s old vice/gets a Hollow, dies in a trice/Look alike Ichigo comes along/Need I spell out the end to this song’?” Its face tightens. “Though it’s not really supposed to be a song...”
“STOP IT.”
Rukia’s voice is hard and insistent, but there’s a tang, a touch, of desperation on the edge of it.
The Hollow sits up. “Why, Rukia-chan.”
“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” she yells. “AND TAKE THAT DAMN THING DOWN.”
The Hollow actually looks surprised. “Of course, Rukia-chan,” it says. “Anything you say.” It flicks the pointer at the screen, and the image vanishes.
Ichigo looks over at Rukia. One hand is curled around her arm, gripping tight. Her head is slightly lowered, and there’s a tremor to her form, ever so slight.
He knows that pose. He wishes he didn’t, but he does.
He looks back at the Hollow, and his eyes burn even more.
“No more games,” he says. “Tell us how to cure Rukia.”
“No more games?” the Hollow says, then lets out a sigh. “But we do so enjoy them, don’t we?” It slaps the pointer closed, puts it in its pocket. It leans back into the shadows of its chair, and steeples its fingers again.
“The cure for Rukia is you,” it says.
Ichigo stares at it for a moment, face gone slack. Then his jaw clenches, and he growls, “What the HELL do you mean by that?” Outside, the thunder rumbles, as if echoing his words.
The Hollow chuckles, flexes its fingers. “Simple, partner,” he says. “You. Her. A dark room, a secret place. An...exchange.” It waggles its eyebrows.
Ichigo blinks, and stares at it in confusion. It sighs. “I had to get all of your brains, didn’t I?” it says, then leans forward, “You have to KISS HER.”
Both Ichigo and Rukia jump, as if their chairs had suddenly shocked them. They glance at each other, then look away, just as quickly. Ichigo feels himself color, and he tries to say something, but all he can do is stutter.
The Hollow chuckles. “You should see your faces,” it sighs. “You both look like I just asked you to kill a puppy. Or a bunny in your case, Rukia-chan.” It chuckles again, settles back into its chair. “Which, you know, I could’ve.”
“Is this some sort of joke?” Rukia asks sharply, moving forward in her chair. “Another game, perhaps?”
It tilts its head. “And if I said that it was? If I said, sorry, yes, that was just a joke, just a game? If I said, here’s what you have to do: you both have to go and bring me back the Fire Cherry-Apple-Pinecone of the gods. To do so, you’ll cross harsh distances, fight nigh-unbeatable foes, push yourself to the ABSOLUTE limit. The risk of death would haunt you every second, and that’s only to get the item to exchange for the cure. Then you’d have to come all the way back and get the cure from me.” It smirks. “If I said that, would you do it? Would he? You know the answer to that, and so do I.”
It laughs again, dark and cruel. “I’m not an idiot, Rukia-chan, Ichi-partner. I know how you,” it points at her, “and you,” it points at him, “work. If I gave you a task like that, a HERO’s task, you would do it in a heartbeat. And you would succeed.”
It pulls its hands back, steeples its fingers again. “But this, a coward’s task? You’ll never do it, either of you. And so...” Its eyes gleam. “It’s the perfect choice.”
All falls silent. Outside, lightning flashes, and the thunder cracks, but it sounds distant, uneasy.
“You look confused, partner,” it says, looking at him. “Rukia-chan hasn’t told you of our discussion yet, has she? Of my birth, and her part in it.” It shakes its head. “She’s a cold, cold bitch, isn’t she?”
Ichigo grips the arms of his chair. It raises its head a little.
“Problem?” it asks, voice soft. “Not like you haven’t said that, thought that, before.”
Ichigo doesn’t reply, and his grip doesn’t relax. It’s right, of course. But that’s HIM. This thing...is him, but still...it shouldn’t say that. It shouldn’t.
“Che,” it says. “You may be right there. I certainly don’t see her that way.” It looks over at Rukia. “She’s warm, to me. Very warm.” Its eyes close a little, face raised as if smelling something good. “You remember that, don’t you, partner? The taste, the smell.” It cocks its head toward him, and grins. “I know you do.”
Ichigo looks down, and his hands tighten on the chair arms until his knuckles turn white. It laughs softly.
“You never told her about that,” it says, “just as she never told you about...us.” It draws out the s, then sighs. “Tsk tsk. The secrets you two keep from each other.” It raises its hand. “I know them all, you know. Could show them to you. I could...”
“STOP,” Rukia says, and it shuts up. She stares at it. “I told you before, don’t you DARE.” Her eyes flick to Ichigo ,then down. “There will be secrets between us,” she says, “as there are secrets between all beings.” Her eyes come up, her voice hardens. “What matters is which secrets we share, by choice. Not the ones we keep.”
It stares at her for a moment, then shakes its head. “Well said, Rukia-chan,” it says, and its voice sounds almost like his. Higher, younger, but closer than before.
It looks at Ichigo. “Youth and wisdom. Speed and power. White and black. See how you complement each other?” It shakes its head. “No. Of course you don’t. You won’t touch her, you won’t kiss her, and heaven forbid you dream of fucking her.”
“Which he has,” it says, looking at Rukia.
“And why, WHY?” it cries, looking back at him. “WHY are these such impossible thoughts? WHY?” It shakes its head again. “I AM you, partner, and even I don’t understand.”
Rukia looks over at Ichigo. His face is down, but even his neck is bright red. His hands clutch the chair arms, shaking a little. He looks like he’s about to jump over the table and throttle the Hollow. He looks like he’s about to break into pieces.
She sighs, a little. And he thought I wouldn’t be able to do this, she thinks. It’s harder to face yourself, though, even if it is twisted and mouthy. That last comment...it made her blush, a little. But it’d also made her that much angrier.
“He’s sixteen,” she says, voice sharp.
The Hollow looks at her.
“I’ve lived longer than he has,” she says. “And I’m...even I’m...not entirely comfortable with such things. How could you expect that, at his age?”
“Heh,” it says. “His peers do well. Mizuiro, Keigo, they don’t have these problems.”
“They’re also morons,” she retorts. “So’s he, but not in that way. And not in the ways that count.”
The Hollow stares at her, eyes slowly narrowing. It glances over at Ichigo, and shakes its head, then looks back at her.
“So it is to be us again, Rukia-chan?” it says, voice quiet. “Just you and me.”
“Better than this,” she replies.
The Hollow looks over at Ichigo again, then nods. It rises. “Right you are, Rukia-chan.” It holds out a hand to her. “Come.”
Rukia doesn’t look at Ichigo as she stands. She touches her sword lightly, then moves toward it. She raises her hand.
“RUKIA!” Ichigo yells, lunging out of his chair. “WAIT.”
She looks at him. “Stay there,” she commands. “I will handle this.” Then, she gives him the faintest smug smile. “I’ll be fine.”
She lays her hand in the Hollow’s. It’s warm, dry, and not quite human to the touch.
The Hollow grins at Ichigo, and pulls her closer to it. “She will be, partner. Don’t worry.”
They vanish.
Ichigo watches Rukia and the Hollow disappear.
He raises his head, and screams.
It’s a sound of pain, anger, and most of all, of frustration. It goes on for a long time.
When he’s done, he stumbles back to the chair, and slumps in it. He reaches for his sword, pulls it around in front of him, and leans his head against it. The metal is cold against his skin. Thunder crackles outside the window.
“Ossan,” he says, “this was the shittiest idea you ever had.”
A moment, then the soft click of heels on the floor. He feels, rather than sees, Zangetsu standing beside him.
“It was necessary,” Zangetsu says.
“Necessary,” Ichigo breathes, hand clutching at the sword hilt. “Necessary for whom? Me? Her?” He grits his teeth, spits out, “She’s gone again.”
Zangetsu says nothing.
“SHE’S GONE,” he shouts, trembling against his sword. “WITH IT. AGAIN.” His voice drops. “And I don’t know how to find her.”
There’s a pause, then Zangetsu places his hand on Ichigo’s shoulder. Ichigo flinches at the touch, but Zangetsu doesn’t pull back.
“Ichigo,” he says, “it did not lie, when it said it was part of you.”
Ichigo curls in tighter. “I knew that,” he says.
“Then you can find it.”
Ichigo raises his head a little, gives Zangetsu a sideways look. “How?”
Zangetsu pulls his hand from Ichigo’s shoulder. “Think, Ichigo!” he commands. “It is part of you, mixed with Hollow. How would you find it?”
Ichigo gives him a blank look. “I’ve always sucked at tracking Hollows,” he says.
Zangetsu just stares back.
Ichigo heaves a sigh, looks away. “This ain’t gonna work, Ossan.”
“You can do nothing without confidence, Ichigo,” he replies, an edge to his voice.
“Right,” Ichigo says, though there’s not a lot of force to it. He closes his eyes, and concentrates.
Another moment passes. Then Zangetsu roars, “Concentrate, Ichigo! Do not let yourself be distracted!” His voice drops back to normal. “Remember why you are doing this. Remember what motivates this search. Think what will happen if you do not succeed.”
Ichigo grimaces, and his eyes squeeze tight. He remembers, for a second, the first time he saw that mark on Rukia’s neck. He remembers, for a second, the look on her face when she saw he knew. He remembers, for a second, her turned back. He remembers, for a second, her walking away.
There’s a blip on his mental radar, a hazy image before his eyes. He focuses in on it, and suddenly, he can feel it, the Hollow. It stands out in his mind like a blot, pulsing darkly.
He opens his eyes. He stands.
“I’m going, Ossan,” he says.
A pause. Then, “Aa.”
Ichigo focuses in on that blot, and closes his eyes. He takes a step, and feels the air contract around him, like the tightening of a fist. There’s a brief moment of darkness.
Then he’s standing against something wet, with rain striking his face and wind howling around him. He opens his eyes to see that he’s in a tree, standing on a wide branch, looking into a lighted window. He blinks at the rain, then inches forward a bit, trying to see more of what’s on the other side of the window.
He has to inch out twice more, so that he stands precariously on the branch, before he can see clearly.
Even then, he’s not sure he believes his eyes.
Rukia’s dancing with the Hollow.
He rubs at his eyes with his fist, then peers back inside.
Yup. Rukia’s still dancing with the Hollow. In a big black dress, too. As he watches, it spins her around, then pulls her back in, tight against its body, before continuing their waltz.
At least she looks like she’s not enjoying it, he thinks.
Much.
He pushes that thought away, and looks from the branch to the window. It’s not a bad jump, but this isn’t the best weather, either, and the sill looks slick. Then he’ll need to break the window to get in...
Wait, he thinks. I can do that from here.
He raises Zangetsu, begins to pull his energy in...and stops.
The Hollow and Rukia have stopped dancing. It still holds her close to itself, but the hand on her waist has tightened, and the look on its face has changed. It says something to her, and its head droops.
Thunder crashes, deafeningly loud. And it looks up, above her head, right at him.
It doesn’t smile. It just looks at him.
Before Ichigo can move, it pulls away from her. Says something. Then pivots around, tugs her after it, and vanishes.
Ichigo grits his teeth, concentrates. After a second, he, too, vanishes.
Rukia opens her eyes just as an enormous crack of thunder sounds.
She’s standing in a large room, done entirely in gold. The tile is patterned in gold, the walls are gilt, and the candles spill bright light from golden holders. Above her, an enormous chandelier hangs down, hundreds of candles burning brightly in its golden cups.
She looks down, and her eyes widen. She’s wearing a long, black dress that poofs out around her. There are frills, ruffles, white lace edging. It has no sleeves; instead, black fabric droops off her shoulders, sitting at the same height as her neckline, which is...rather low. She plucks at the fabric, and a black wooden fan rattles at her wrist. She takes it, holds it up, opens it. It smells of crisp pine.
She lets it fall, then touches her neck with her other hand. Ichigo’s hilt-wrap remains firmly in place.
“Like it, Rukia-chan?”
She looks over at the Hollow. It’s wearing something...very ornate, and odd looking. An overcoat of white that falls past its waist, covered in bright yellow buttons. Short pants of white that stop at its knees. Black, sheer socks of some sort, ending in white shoes with black buckles. Black lace spills from its throat, its wrists. When it notices her looking at it, it steps forward and points one foot.
“What is this place?” she asks. “It looks...familiar.”
It grins, though not in its usual way. It seems shy, somehow. “Another memory,” he says. “From a movie he liked.” It raises one finger to its lips. “Not that he’d ever admit that.”
There’s another rumble of thunder, loud and harsh, and the Hollow looks up for a moment. Then it looks back down at her, and grins. “Do you dance, Rukia-chan?”
She shakes her head. “Not like this.”
That grin again, the almost shy one. “It’s easy,” he says. “You’ll be fine.” He extends a hand to her.
She stares at it.
“Come on, Rukia-chan,” it says, voice strangely kind. “I won’t hurt you.”
She looks at it, then at its outstretched hand. She sighs. If this is what she needs to do to buy Ichigo time to get himself together...so be it.
She steps forward, and takes its hand.
Its grin widens, and pulls her closer, right up against it. Her eyes widen. “What...what are you doing?”
“Rukia-chan,” it says, voice gentle. “This,” it puts her hand on its shoulder, then places that hand on her waist, “is how we dance.”
Music starts up in the background, a slow, bouncing melody. It rocks the both of them back and forth for a moment. “Three beats,” it says. “One-two-three, one-two-three.”
She sways with it, and listens. After a moment, she hears them. “One-two-three, one-two-three,” she repeats.
It smiles at her, and there’s almost no malice in it. “You got it,” it says, and pulls her out onto the floor.
The next few moments show that she doesn’t quite get it. However, she’s a quick learner, and within a few minutes, they make an entire circuit without her stepping on its foot once. In the next circuit, she doesn’t miss a beat once.
“How...how did you learn to do this?” she asks, as thunder booms out again.
“I have time,” he says simply. “It’s not like I have much to do, aside from flip through his memories and stand in the rain.” He thinks for a moments. “Well, sometimes I eat dinner with Zangetsu-san, too.”
“You and Zangetsu?” she asks.
His grin is sheepish now. “We’re not enemies, you know,” he says. “Zangetsu-san and I.” He looks away. “He wasn’t ready for me for awhile, so Zangetsu-san held me in check.” The edges of his eyes soften. “Until he needed me.”
Then he looks back at her, smiles wider. “Ready to try a turn?”
“Uh...all right,” she says, and lets him guide her through it. As they do, the thunder crashes down again.
“Good, good,” he says, pulling her back to him. They make another circuit, adding in turns here and there, in silence.
This is so strange, she thinks. A few minutes ago, he was cocky and cold. Now he’s...nice.
“Rukia-chan,” he says, his voice quiet. “You seem far away.”
“Oh, sorry,” she says, then blinks, stares at him. “Sorry,” she repeats, voice misty. She raises her head. “I’ve never said that to a Hollow.”
One side of its grin falters, and the music in the background skips, then stops. He, too, stops.
“I’m still just a Hollow, then?” he says, grip tightening on her hand, her waist. “Is that all?”
She gives him a shocked look, then asks, “What else could you be?”
It stares back down at her. The grin is gone, and its grip is hard on her hand, tense at her waist.
“I thought...” it says, gritting its teeth. “I thought you might...”
Her eyes widen. “That I might what?” she says, voice careful.
It stares down at her, and there’s a flicker of something it its eyes. Something...almost human.
Then, its eyes close. Its head lowers. Its grip loosens. “Nothing,” it says.
Rukia blinks, her mind a-whirl . Did he...did it...just...what did it...
At that moment, the thunder crashes down again, loud and close.
It raises its head, looks out the window. The corners of its eyes twitch, and its mouth turns down.
It pulls back from her, but still keeps a grip on her hand. “Come on, Rukia-chan,” it says. “We need to go elsewhere. Somewhere...more private.”
It turns away, tugs her along after it, walking away fast as the world dissolves around them. Unable to look at it, she closes her eyes.
When Ichigo opens his eyes this time, he’s standing on a landing. Before him are stairs, leading down. He turns, looks behind him; there are stairs there, too, leading up.
He looks between the two staircases, and says, to no one in particular, “I hate fucking stairs.”
Then he closes his eyes, and concentrates again. His brow furrows, and when he opens his eyes, he looks between the staircases again.
“I really, really,” he says, as he turns to the staircase leading up, “hate fucking stairs.” He puts away Zangetsu, and starts up them.
After a few flights, he realizes, And it probably knows that, too.
He keeps running.
After some number of flights--he lost count at twelve--he stops on a landing, leans against the wall, catches his breath. The stairs above him stretch away, seemingly without end.
He stares up them, and growls, “This isn’t going to stop me.”
There’s a sound, almost like laughter. Then, softly, Stop? No. Delay? More soft giggling. Yes.
Ichigo launches himself up the stairs. He barely notices the flights passing underneath him until, suddenly, there’s no more. He faces a blank wall, with a corridor to the left, and one to the right.
Which way, partner? Which way?
Ichigo concentrates, then spins left, races down the hall. When he hits a fork there, he pauses only a moment before dashing down a branch. He fixes on the blot in his mind, keeps it before him always, until the rest of the world drops away.
He doesn’t know how long he runs. He only knows that the closer he gets, the darker it becomes, the harder it beats at his brain.
The closer he gets to Rukia.
Rukia opens her eyes.
She’s sitting on a white bed, surrounded by white curtains. She moves to the edge, pulls them aside, looks out. She gapes.
She’s in a cave of some sort, a long room with a low ceiling. The bed sits near a still, black lake; the wall off to her right curves in close to the lake, then away, blocking her view of the rest of the room. There are candles everywhere. Candles sit in niches in the wall, in large black-armed candle holders, in smaller ones on the table. There’s even candles floating on the lake. The effect is a room ablaze in light, though it does nothing for the cool, damp air.
Rukia looks down, and makes a face. She’s wearing another dress, black again, only this one seems to have ruffles and frills and no actual substance. Or sleeves, for that matter. Or anything resembling a proper bodice. She raises her wrist, and the fan clacks against her arm again. She holds it up, and notices now that it’s attached to her wrist by a white ribbon.
Music sounds, a long, low note, and she jumps. She looks around, but can’t see anyone there. Anxiety bubbles up in her; the Hollow usually shows itself fairly quickly. If it is hiding...
She slides off the bed, holding the fan carefully in her hand. Her bare feet touch the floor, and she makes a face at the touch of the cold, damp rock. She takes a few steps, and her dress rustles; she gives it annoyed look, rolls her eyes, and proceeds as quietly as she can.
The music has faded to the background, and now it rises again, a series of loud scales. She creeps to the wall, and follows it as it curves close to the lake. The stones under her feet are slick and cold, though the water sits a few feet away. Once she rounds the corner, she can see the rest of the cave itself. This section, too, is full of light, candles placed everywhere they can be.
She sees the Hollow now. Its back is to her, draped in a white cape. It sits at a large, odd looking device: large pipes rise above its head, apparently stuck in a larger box of dark wood. Its fingers run back and forth over a black and white row; its feet work something beneath the box. It takes her a second to realize that this is where the music is coming from. She watches it for a moment, as it rocks back and forth, then turns and looks back. Farther down the shore of the lake, there’s a small dock, with a boat tied to it. It is black, in the shape of a swan. She looks at it, considers going to it, then turns back and looks at the Hollow.
She shakes her head, then begins to pick her way across the rocks towards it.
Despite the rustling of her dress, it doesn’t seem to notice her. Occasionally, it stops playing and makes a note on the sheet in front of it, but it doesn’t look back at her. In fact, it’s not until she is standing much closer to it that it stops playing all together.
“Rukia-chan,” it says, then turns towards her slightly. A white mask, glowing in the light, covers this side of its face. “Welcome.” Its voice is low, dark, quiet.
She stops. “What is this place?” she asks.
It turns more towards her, and giggles softly. “Like it?” it says, an odd hiss in its voice. “It’s my lair.”
From this angle, she can see that its mask resembles that of a Hollow: a deep, narrow eye socket, the lack of nose, the impression of teeth. Unconsciously, she takes a step back, then forces herself to stop. Her hand tightens on the fan.
It turns even more on the bench, so that she can see the mask only covers half of its face. The eye in the other half seems larger somehow, the yellow-orange iris brighter. “Something wrong, Rukia-chan?” it asks, then giggles softly.
She nearly takes another step back, but manages to stay still. “Yes, there’s something wrong,” she says. “It’s cold, and there’s not enough of this damn dress.” She pulls at the fabric. “Low cut, slit high, and TIGHT! Who would wear such a thing?”
The Hollow stares at her, then looks down a little. “Oh no, Rukia-chan,” it says, rising. “I think it looks...just fine.” It raises its head, and its iris flexes. “Perfect, in fact.”
Now she does back away from it, a quick skitter of steps. It takes one slow, deliberate step towards her, and she forces herself to stop, to hold still. It takes another slow step.
“You’ve never seen this, have you?” it says, brushing its fingers over the mask.
She shakes her head.
“It’s mine. And his,” it says, lowering its hand to its side. Her eyes follow it, widen as the fingers flex and curl. “His, if he’d ever accept it.”
“He won’t,” she says, but the spark of defiance is gone from her voice.
It nods, takes another slow step towards her. “I know,” it says, and for a moment, its voice sounds calmer, more like before. It stands still for a moment, and adds quietly, “And neither will you.”
She stares at it for a moment, aghast. Her hands clench into fists. “Is that what this was about?” she asks. “All of this?”
It says nothing.
“How could I?” she shouts, then points at her neck. “How could I, after this?”
The Hollow takes another step towards her, and another. She stays still, looks up at it with angry eyes. It raises a hand, and tilts it.
Unwillingly, Rukia’s head tilts to the side, also. She grits her teeth, pushes against it, but it won’t move.
It takes another step towards her, and a final one. It stands above her, looking down at her for a moment. Then it raises a hand, and brushes its fingers across her neck. The touch is light, oddly tender, and the mark pulses with heat.
“I wanted to meet you for so long, Rukia-chan,” it says. “I had heard...so much about you, in his thoughts. Seen you in his memories. I thought...I thought that maybe...”
It stops, lowers its head. In this light, the mark running down from its eye looks oddly like a tear.
“I thought wrong, though.”
Its hand clenches at its side, and it raises its head, grinning broadly.
“You will never see me as anything but a Hollow,” it says. “His Hollow. An invader, a pest, to be rooted out and cleansed from his system.” Its hand curves around her neck, touch light. “Even though I AM HIM. I am everything he has pushed back, put away. Every dark corner of his mind, every ugly thought, is embodied in ME.” It laughs, softly. “And he will never be rid of me.”
It raises its head. “Will you, Ichigo?”
Ichigo stumbles down a flight of stairs, presses forward, and bursts into a cave.
The lights blind him for a second, and he hears the Hollow say, “And he will never be rid of me.”
His vision clears, and he looks across the cave. The Hollow stands before Rukia, its hand on her neck. It looks up at him now, and says, “Will you, Ichigo?”
He sees Rukia stiffen. He pulls Zangetsu from his back, and takes up a fighting stance. “No,” he pants. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll beat me.”
He swallows more air, then says, “This ends. Now.”
The Hollow tilts its head, and lets out that little giggle. It pulls its hand from Rukia’s neck, and steps away from her. It takes a few steps toward him, and it seems like the Hollow mask begins to glow.
“Does it?” it says. “Really now, partner...does it?”
It raises a hand.
Something drops around Ichigo’s neck and squeezes.
The pressure on Rukia’s neck falls away, and she whirls around. The Hollow stands a few feet from her, hand raised in the air. It’s laughing, and the sound sends chills up her spine.
She looks across the lake, and sees Ichigo. His head is thrown back, and one hand is at his throat, as if trying to pull something away.
“Did you forget, partner?” the Hollow laughs. “Your hand at the level of your eyes!” It giggles again, and clenches its hand.
Ichigo lets out a gasp, and it looks like he’s lifted from the floor. Zangetsu drops, and both hands go to his throat, trying to pull something away.
It’s choking him, she thinks. But how? With what? I can’t see anything!
Ichigo makes a gagging, desperate noise. His chest heaves, and he struggles furiously against whatever holds him.
“It ends, partner?” the Hollow laughs. “You fool!” It relaxes its hand, and Ichigo manages to draw in a breath. Then it clenches it tight again.
Rukia looks around wildly. I’ve got to stop him, she thinks. But with what? With WHAT?
She turns towards the Hollow again, and the fan rattles against her hand.
She looks down at it, then picks it up in her hand. For a moment, her vision blurs, and it’s not a fan she’s holding. It’s a sword.
She blinks, and the vision disappears. But the feeling of a sword in her hand...remains.
She steps forward, and it sounds like a sandal sliding against rock. She crouches, moves the fan to her side, other hand falling to clasp it, like a sheath around a sword. She glares at the Hollow.
Its head is thrown back, and it’s laughing. A high, loud, cold laugh, as it clenches and relaxes its hand, cuts off and allows Ichigo’s life. It’s a laugh she’s heard so many times before, in her dreams.
She pulls the fan from her side, from the sheath of her hand, and it sounds like a sword.
She moves.
One moment, it’s laughing, head tilted back. The next, it chokes, blinks. Drops its hand, as blood sprays from its wrist. Drops its hand, as Rukia lands lightly on the other side.
She turns towards it. She’s dressed as shinigami, sword in hand. She holds it out to the side, and flicks her wrist, sending drops of blood off the end.
On the other side of the room, Ichigo falls to the floor, gasping.
It stares at her, dumbfounded. “Rukia...chan,” it whispers.
“It may not end here, for good,” she says, holding her sword up. She grips it with her other hand, and steps forward, sandal rasping against the rock. “But for now...it ends.” She tightens her grip. “IT ENDS!”
She charges.
What happens next, happens fast.
It reaches out, and bats her blade aside, easily as if it were flicking off a fly. Then, before she can recover, it grabs her sword hand, pulls her close. She looks up, face tense. It looks back, face serene.
“Ah, Rukia-chan,” he says, other hand brushing her face. “That’s my girl.”
Then it pulls her close, and kisses her.
She gasps against its mouth, eyes wide. Even though it wears a mask, all she feels are its lips, warm and dry against hers.
It pulls away after a moment. It smiles.
Then, its grip changes, and it throws her away.
She lands on her back, but is up a second later, sword still in hand. Its back is to her, and it’s walking back to where it sat at earlier.
She takes a grip on her sword again, and tenses.
It stops. Raises a hand.
“Go,” it says, voice soft.
She doesn’t move.
It turns its head a little, and shrieks, “DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME? GO!”
Rukia turns, and flees.
She runs out onto the dock, tenses, and jumps across the lake. She lands by Ichigo, still holding his throat and gasping for air.
She kneels by him, and says, “You all right?”
He gives her a dark look.
“All right, no,” she says, a touch of humor in her voice. She gets his arm over her shoulder, and rises, lifting him back to his feet.
“Rukia...you...” he coughs out.
“Fine, fine,” she says. “But we have to go.”
He gets his balance back, then reaches down and picks up Zangetsu. He straightens, and looks across the lake at the Hollow.
“Ichigo,” she hisses. “Come on.”
But he just stands there, looking at it.
A moment later, the Hollow says, “Partner.”
Ichigo stiffens.
“You have three days,” it says, sitting down on its bench. “You know the cure now. Three days should be enough.”
She tugs on his arm. “Ichigo, come ON,” she says. “Don’t make me drag you out of here!”
Ichigo stares across the lake for another moment, then looks back at her. There’s a dark, bitter look in his eyes.
Then, his face tightens, becomes slightly more normal, and he says, “Aa.”
As they turn towards the passage, the Hollow’s hands come down on the row of keys.
The music echoes around them, loud and sad, long after they should no longer hear it.
Ichigo opens his eyes, and the familiar sight of his ceiling greets him.
He takes a breath, and it hurts. But still, he’s alive.
He looks over at Rukia. Her eyes are still closed, her hand still on his. As he watches, color rises to her face, and she takes a long, deep breath. Her eyes open.
She looks at him, and lowers her head. Then, she pulls her hand back, and rises.
He sits up quickly. “Rukia,” he rasps, then coughs. His throat feels raw, and he wonders if there’s a mark there. Heh, he thinks. Fitting.
She looks down at him, and he can’t read the look on her face. Then she looks away.
“I’m tired, Ichigo,” she says, then turns away from him. She starts towards the door.
“Rukia,” he says, urgency in his voice.
She stops.
“Three days,” he says.
“Hm,” she says, one hand reaching up to her neck. Then, it drops down, and she says softly, “It lies, Ichigo.”
“What?”
“It won’t kill me,” she says.
“But, Rukia...”
“Ichigo,” she says. “Go to sleep.”
She takes one step, and collapses.
9958 words
Much of this was written in chat with Merry. Its original structure was long chunk of Rukia, long chunk of Ichigo, the final confrontation, and the final scene.