[fic] Surrender the Mind (Chapter 9/9+Epilogue)
Series Title: Surrender the Mind
Chapter Title: Regret (Chapter 9 of 9, plus an Epilogue)
Author: creepy_crawly
Characters/Pairings: ByakuyaxUryuu, UraharaxRyuuken.
Rating: For this chapter? R. For entire series? NC-17
Warnings: Yaoi
Disclaimer: No own. No money. No shame.
Summary: Two years after Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.
“Why did no one wake me?” Unohana demanded, frantically laying out bowls of antibacterial agent and cold water filled with rags. In front of her, a crew of lower-level Fourth Division shinigami were rapidly stripping Byakuya of his sweat-soaked shihakushou, throwing it into a hamper used for infectious materials.
There was no response forthcoming from the scurrying shinigami, and Unohana’s face tightened. As a healer, she had rarely treated Byakuya, instead turning his care over to one of her trusted lieutenants. She was too close to him, emotionally, in her own belief. Unfortunately, some times, she had no option but to take over his treatment. Clearly, this was one such time.
She wondered how long Byakuya had known he was ill, to be so sick at this moment. He had not been infected on patrol; of that much, she was positive. He was much too sick to have only just have caught the plague, even as tired as he had been. Had he been contagious when he was with Ishida? She hoped not; the last thing she needed was the Quincy coming down with this damn plague.
He looks so much like his mother, Minazuki commented quietly.
He does look like Hitomi-chan, Unohana agreed, washing her hands carefully. Her eyes softened; she had loved Hitomi like no other, and treasured her best friend’s son as a good friend, too. From time to time, she had even wondered if, maybe, Byakuya was not actually Kuchiki Daisuke’s son; he looked too much like his mother and too little like his father. Still, Hitomi had loved the man, cold as he was, and had never mentioned another relationship to Unohana.
Doesn’t mean there wasn’t one, Minazuki pointed out swiftly.
Doesn’t mean we’ll rock the boat by asking, Unohana replied. She neared Byakuya’s still body, and a ripple of amusement echoed through her at the sight of the small passionmark on his hip.Mina-my-love, she asked gently, please wake Senbonzakura, if you can.
Minazuki obediently searched for the unconscious man’s zanpakutou. Finding her, she settled against the elegant blade’s reiatsu, to facilitate communication between her and the healer. She’s awake, barely, she told Unohana.
Thank you, love. Ask her how long Byakuya’s been ill, Unohana requested.
A little under a week, Minazuki relayed. But spending time with the Quincy healed him, she thinks.
“That makes sense,” Unohana muttered to herself, gathering reiatsu in her hands and placing them on Byakuya’s firm chest.
“Unohana-taichou?” Isane asked, confused.
Unohana shook her head. “Talking with Minazuki, Isane-chan,” she assured the young woman. “If you could place your hands on his temples, thank you. Two of us should be able to heal more than one…”
----
Ishida awoke suddenly as one of the other healer-shinigami in the small room snuffled in her sleep and rolled over. He noticed the light streaming in from under the door, and the empty bed where Unohana had been sleeping. Sitting up, he could hear the sounds of a frantic healing session in the other room.
Judging himself well-rested enough to help, Ishida shot out of the small cot. He quickly made his way to the changing room, where he showered and re-dressed himself in a clean, white variation on the basic shihakushou, the sterile garments utilized by Fourth Division. He washed his hands and raced through the barrier.
And found Byakuya on the other side.
“You didn’t wake me?” he demanded of Unohana, quickly making his way to her side. “I could help!”
“You needed the sleep,” she grunted. “Besides, they didn’t wake me, either.”
“How ill?” Ishida demanded, nudging a shinigami out of the way and clamping his hands down on Byakuya’s sweaty hips. He had reiatsu surging through mere seconds later, struggling to save his lover’s life.
“Fairly,” Isane panted out, ducking her head for another shinigami to whip a damp cloth over her forehead to cool her down.
“You’ve been healing him for the past week,” Unohana explained out of the corner of her mouth, expression tightening as she fought for control of the man’s reiatsu system. “I suspect you know how, if you think about it.”
Ishida opened his mouth, and then closed it again, blushing violently. “And he’s still ill?”
Unohana nodded. “This thing’s strong,” she told him. “As I suspect you’ve noticed.” She looked up, taking a moment to cast a sharp eye over him. “You really should still be resting.”
“I can’t let him suffer,” Ishida answered sharply. “If I overdraw again, so be it.” He looked to one of the scurrying shinigami. “You!”
“Sir?” the woman asked, confused.
“If I pass out-if I overdraw my reiatsu during this healing session-do not attempt to heal me. Do not let anyone else attempt to heal me,” he ordered her. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir!” she squeaked.
“What, just have them pick you up and move you out of the way?” Unohana demanded.
“Pretty much,” Ishida returned, grimacing as he worked to purge Byakuya’s reiatsu of the infection. “I’ll heal with sleep. He won’t.”
Isane shook her head, muttering something about “crazy” and “suicidal,” but said nothing to either of them.
Unohana eyed him for a long, long moment, and then shook her head as well. “Very well. Healers, do as he asks.”
----
Ishida collapsed an hour into the healing, having already poured more of his own reiatsu into Byakuya than any other healer. He folded down swiftly, his knees buckling even as his eyes rolled back in his head. He dropped down in an almost straight line, his head falling back at the last second and tipping him backwards. One of the waiting shinigami caught him and, on Unohana’s direction, carried him over to an empty cot.
Unohana surrendered her position seconds later, directing the healing from an empty stool at Byakuya’s feet. She had only been doing so for ten minutes when another healer came rushing up, stuttering that Kurosaki-san was dying.
----
Kuchiki Byakuya woke from his fever-sleep at 10:00 o’clock in the morning.
Kurosaki Ichigo died from the Spirit Plague at 10:05 o’clock in the morning.
----
Ishida woke suddenly, the sun bright in his eyes, and immediately knew that something was wrong. The bed beneath him was soft and warm, nothing like the cot he had been on in the room off the quarantined ward. A quick glance around the room told him the truth; he was no longer in the Fourth Division, but in the Kuchiki clanhouse. He recognized the designs on the walls.
He also recognized something else: the emptiness in the center of his body that said he no longer had any Quincy powers.
Hoping against hope that it was merely from exhaustion, Ishida closed his eyes and tried to pull enough reiatsu against his skin to form Kujaku. But he could not even feel the energy in the world around him, let alone manipulate it so finely.
Ishida closed his eyes, and collapsed back, sobbing silently.
Kujaku was gone.
----
Unohana watched silently from the doorway, her heart in her throat, as the young Quincy stood beside his sleeping lover.
Ishida gently stroked a hand across the other man’s pale forehead, glad that the healing he had undergone earlier to wipe out the last of the infection in his body would keep him asleep.
“I love you,” he whispered to the sleeping man, leaning down to coo in his ear. “I love you so much…but you must forget the present. Keep me a memory…but forget the present!”
Swallowing back tears, he stood up, turned, and left the room.
He never saw Byakuya twist, fidget, and wake.
----
“Are you sure you have no one to whom you should say your goodbyes?” Urahara asked, eyeing the dark-haired young man who stood, huddled beneath his borrowed cloak, beside him.
“I’m certain, Urahara-san,” Ishida said dully, staring down at the ground. He was dressed in a borrowed shihakushou, the Quincy fabric having self-destructed when he lost his powers.
Around them, the other members of the group that had come to save Seireitei stood in a quiet, subdued huddle. Ichigo’s death had affected them all; the sudden realization that they could, potentially, die was a stunning thought. Even more terrifying was the thought that they had to go to Ichigo’s family and inform them that the redhead been killed.
Privately, Urahara thought that Ishida had been given the worst part of the deal; Ichigo had personally requested that the young man tell his father what had happened. The blond man knew that Ichigo had intended it to help Ishida to stop blaming himself-Isshin would not allow the young Quincy to keep self-castigating-but he also knew that Ishida would not see it that way.
He, too, did not look forward to confessing the truth to his own lover. He had promised Ryuuken that he would look after his son, because, after Uryuu’s brush with death as a child, the man had always been over-protective and distant. But Urahara had failed in that task, had let Ryuuken’s son fall in love, lose all his Quincy abilities, and break his own heart by leaving the one he loved in secret.
He placed a strong hand on the boy’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. “Let’s go home, then.”
Previous Chapter
||
Next Chapter
Chapter Title: Regret (Chapter 9 of 9, plus an Epilogue)
Author: creepy_crawly
Characters/Pairings: ByakuyaxUryuu, UraharaxRyuuken.
Rating: For this chapter? R. For entire series? NC-17
Warnings: Yaoi
Disclaimer: No own. No money. No shame.
Summary: Two years after Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.
“Why did no one wake me?” Unohana demanded, frantically laying out bowls of antibacterial agent and cold water filled with rags. In front of her, a crew of lower-level Fourth Division shinigami were rapidly stripping Byakuya of his sweat-soaked shihakushou, throwing it into a hamper used for infectious materials.
There was no response forthcoming from the scurrying shinigami, and Unohana’s face tightened. As a healer, she had rarely treated Byakuya, instead turning his care over to one of her trusted lieutenants. She was too close to him, emotionally, in her own belief. Unfortunately, some times, she had no option but to take over his treatment. Clearly, this was one such time.
She wondered how long Byakuya had known he was ill, to be so sick at this moment. He had not been infected on patrol; of that much, she was positive. He was much too sick to have only just have caught the plague, even as tired as he had been. Had he been contagious when he was with Ishida? She hoped not; the last thing she needed was the Quincy coming down with this damn plague.
He looks so much like his mother, Minazuki commented quietly.
He does look like Hitomi-chan, Unohana agreed, washing her hands carefully. Her eyes softened; she had loved Hitomi like no other, and treasured her best friend’s son as a good friend, too. From time to time, she had even wondered if, maybe, Byakuya was not actually Kuchiki Daisuke’s son; he looked too much like his mother and too little like his father. Still, Hitomi had loved the man, cold as he was, and had never mentioned another relationship to Unohana.
Doesn’t mean there wasn’t one, Minazuki pointed out swiftly.
Doesn’t mean we’ll rock the boat by asking, Unohana replied. She neared Byakuya’s still body, and a ripple of amusement echoed through her at the sight of the small passionmark on his hip.Mina-my-love, she asked gently, please wake Senbonzakura, if you can.
Minazuki obediently searched for the unconscious man’s zanpakutou. Finding her, she settled against the elegant blade’s reiatsu, to facilitate communication between her and the healer. She’s awake, barely, she told Unohana.
Thank you, love. Ask her how long Byakuya’s been ill, Unohana requested.
A little under a week, Minazuki relayed. But spending time with the Quincy healed him, she thinks.
“That makes sense,” Unohana muttered to herself, gathering reiatsu in her hands and placing them on Byakuya’s firm chest.
“Unohana-taichou?” Isane asked, confused.
Unohana shook her head. “Talking with Minazuki, Isane-chan,” she assured the young woman. “If you could place your hands on his temples, thank you. Two of us should be able to heal more than one…”
----
Ishida awoke suddenly as one of the other healer-shinigami in the small room snuffled in her sleep and rolled over. He noticed the light streaming in from under the door, and the empty bed where Unohana had been sleeping. Sitting up, he could hear the sounds of a frantic healing session in the other room.
Judging himself well-rested enough to help, Ishida shot out of the small cot. He quickly made his way to the changing room, where he showered and re-dressed himself in a clean, white variation on the basic shihakushou, the sterile garments utilized by Fourth Division. He washed his hands and raced through the barrier.
And found Byakuya on the other side.
“You didn’t wake me?” he demanded of Unohana, quickly making his way to her side. “I could help!”
“You needed the sleep,” she grunted. “Besides, they didn’t wake me, either.”
“How ill?” Ishida demanded, nudging a shinigami out of the way and clamping his hands down on Byakuya’s sweaty hips. He had reiatsu surging through mere seconds later, struggling to save his lover’s life.
“Fairly,” Isane panted out, ducking her head for another shinigami to whip a damp cloth over her forehead to cool her down.
“You’ve been healing him for the past week,” Unohana explained out of the corner of her mouth, expression tightening as she fought for control of the man’s reiatsu system. “I suspect you know how, if you think about it.”
Ishida opened his mouth, and then closed it again, blushing violently. “And he’s still ill?”
Unohana nodded. “This thing’s strong,” she told him. “As I suspect you’ve noticed.” She looked up, taking a moment to cast a sharp eye over him. “You really should still be resting.”
“I can’t let him suffer,” Ishida answered sharply. “If I overdraw again, so be it.” He looked to one of the scurrying shinigami. “You!”
“Sir?” the woman asked, confused.
“If I pass out-if I overdraw my reiatsu during this healing session-do not attempt to heal me. Do not let anyone else attempt to heal me,” he ordered her. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir!” she squeaked.
“What, just have them pick you up and move you out of the way?” Unohana demanded.
“Pretty much,” Ishida returned, grimacing as he worked to purge Byakuya’s reiatsu of the infection. “I’ll heal with sleep. He won’t.”
Isane shook her head, muttering something about “crazy” and “suicidal,” but said nothing to either of them.
Unohana eyed him for a long, long moment, and then shook her head as well. “Very well. Healers, do as he asks.”
----
Ishida collapsed an hour into the healing, having already poured more of his own reiatsu into Byakuya than any other healer. He folded down swiftly, his knees buckling even as his eyes rolled back in his head. He dropped down in an almost straight line, his head falling back at the last second and tipping him backwards. One of the waiting shinigami caught him and, on Unohana’s direction, carried him over to an empty cot.
Unohana surrendered her position seconds later, directing the healing from an empty stool at Byakuya’s feet. She had only been doing so for ten minutes when another healer came rushing up, stuttering that Kurosaki-san was dying.
----
Kuchiki Byakuya woke from his fever-sleep at 10:00 o’clock in the morning.
Kurosaki Ichigo died from the Spirit Plague at 10:05 o’clock in the morning.
----
Ishida woke suddenly, the sun bright in his eyes, and immediately knew that something was wrong. The bed beneath him was soft and warm, nothing like the cot he had been on in the room off the quarantined ward. A quick glance around the room told him the truth; he was no longer in the Fourth Division, but in the Kuchiki clanhouse. He recognized the designs on the walls.
He also recognized something else: the emptiness in the center of his body that said he no longer had any Quincy powers.
Hoping against hope that it was merely from exhaustion, Ishida closed his eyes and tried to pull enough reiatsu against his skin to form Kujaku. But he could not even feel the energy in the world around him, let alone manipulate it so finely.
Ishida closed his eyes, and collapsed back, sobbing silently.
Kujaku was gone.
----
Unohana watched silently from the doorway, her heart in her throat, as the young Quincy stood beside his sleeping lover.
Ishida gently stroked a hand across the other man’s pale forehead, glad that the healing he had undergone earlier to wipe out the last of the infection in his body would keep him asleep.
“I love you,” he whispered to the sleeping man, leaning down to coo in his ear. “I love you so much…but you must forget the present. Keep me a memory…but forget the present!”
Swallowing back tears, he stood up, turned, and left the room.
He never saw Byakuya twist, fidget, and wake.
----
“Are you sure you have no one to whom you should say your goodbyes?” Urahara asked, eyeing the dark-haired young man who stood, huddled beneath his borrowed cloak, beside him.
“I’m certain, Urahara-san,” Ishida said dully, staring down at the ground. He was dressed in a borrowed shihakushou, the Quincy fabric having self-destructed when he lost his powers.
Around them, the other members of the group that had come to save Seireitei stood in a quiet, subdued huddle. Ichigo’s death had affected them all; the sudden realization that they could, potentially, die was a stunning thought. Even more terrifying was the thought that they had to go to Ichigo’s family and inform them that the redhead been killed.
Privately, Urahara thought that Ishida had been given the worst part of the deal; Ichigo had personally requested that the young man tell his father what had happened. The blond man knew that Ichigo had intended it to help Ishida to stop blaming himself-Isshin would not allow the young Quincy to keep self-castigating-but he also knew that Ishida would not see it that way.
He, too, did not look forward to confessing the truth to his own lover. He had promised Ryuuken that he would look after his son, because, after Uryuu’s brush with death as a child, the man had always been over-protective and distant. But Urahara had failed in that task, had let Ryuuken’s son fall in love, lose all his Quincy abilities, and break his own heart by leaving the one he loved in secret.
He placed a strong hand on the boy’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. “Let’s go home, then.”
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