Fic: Honeysuckle (2/3)
Title: Honeysuckle (2/3)
Rating: NC-17
Status: Complete
Word count: 18k
Pairings: Kurosaki Ichigo/Ishida Uryuu; Ishida Uryuu/several other male characters
Warnings: Lots of sexual situations, language, brief alcohol use
Part 1
Over waffles the next morning, Kurosaki is the one imprudent enough to bring the subject back up.
“So this thing…”
“Hm?”
“Is it like…mostly a sex-thing ordoes it make people like-like you, too?”
“I-I can’t say for sure,” Uryuu stutters because it’s too early for this level of awkward. Imagine talking with Kurosaki about his sex life!
“Ayasegawa seemed solely interested in physical gratification but Abarai claimed he ‘really likes’ me. He even asked me out.”
“No shit,” Kurosaki huffs in surprise. “What about Urahara? I can’t picture that guy confessing to anyone.”
“His confession was more of an after-thought,” Uryuu divulges, recalling the event in distracting detail. “Though I suppose a confession after is better than one right before you…um.”
“You didn’t just kiss Urahara, did you?”
With that question, Kurosaki stares at his half-eaten food instead of Uryuu.
“Not really.”
“Wow,” Kurosaki mutters to himself. “That explains…”
“What?”
“Uh, nothing. Forget I said anything.” Uryuu glares, presuming more criticism. Kurosaki continues to avoid looking at him. Thanks to his curiosity, though, he just won’t shut up. “How do you turn it off?”
“I don’t know that, either.”
“Urahara knew about the condition but not its cure?”
“He said something about finding a specific person and…fulfilling certain conditions.”
“Conditions? You mean fucking one of the guys you attract?”
Uryuu gives a full-body twitch at that and the tension in his spine ratchets up another notch. He truly cannot comprehend how this could possibly become any more embarrassing.
“If you must put it that way.”
“But fucking Urahara didn’t work,” he asks in the tone of a statement, easily surpassing previous embarrassment. “Wonder why.”
“First, Kurosaki, I did not ‘fuck’ Urahara-san. It was more like…frottage,” Uryuu feels compelled to differentiate. “Second-”
“Why do you even know that word?”
“Why do you?” he snarks right back, feeling his blood pressure begin to rise. “Second, it did work but only as a temporary remedy.”
“Then it didn’t work. What, he didn’t do it for you, Ishida?”
“He did it fine, Kurosaki.”
“Oh, so you’re cured?”
“You know I’m not-why are you being so obstinate about this?”
“I’m just saying, maybe Urahara’s tired old ass isn’t up to par,” he quips. Uryuu stares at him until he returns the look. “What? Am I wrong?”
“At least he tried.”
“What are you saying?”
Now they face off, a host of strange, inappropriate thoughts flitting between them. Uryuu doesn’t understand Kurosaki’s attitude. If anything, he should be grateful to Urahara for helping. As Uryuu’s friend, he should be happy for him. Instead of acting like a dick about it. If Uryuu didn’t know better, he’d say it seems like jealousy. Now he’s waiting for Uryuu to admit he’s siding with Urahara partly because, unlike Kurosaki, he was kind enough to try helping him out by fooling around with him.
“Never mind. Let’s just study for exams, Kurosaki.”
“Wait, what do you plan on doing about all this? You can’t keep running around like this without causing chaos.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Uryuu growls. Recovering, he explains, “I’m going to focus on acing my tests today and then worry about a strategy for conquering this unexpected obstacle later.”
“But-”
“Let’s just study!”
“Ugh, fine!”
His first in a series of difficult examinations goes exceedingly well. Uryuu is confident of his performance and congratulates himself with a trip to the café between classes for lunch. A bento of pre-packaged sushi is calling his name and he doesn’t bother talking himself out of the expense today. Sipping tea and enjoying his sushi, Uryuu allows a tiny grain of ease to take root. Things aren’t horrible if he can still maintain good academic standing and make time for a nice lunch, after all.
With half an hour left to kill, Uryuu steals away to one of the empty classrooms in the building for a little last-minute studying. He tracks Kurosaki’s reiatsu a floor below him out of habit. The heft of his trusty messenger bag is an inexplicable comfort as he takes out a notebook to peruse. A quiet creak alerts him to a presence entering the room. Just like that, Uryuu’s drifting balloon of optimism is savagely pierced.
“Hey, Ishida,” Hisagi Shuuhei calls from in front of the dry-erase board. “Long time no see.”
“Hisagi-san,” Uryuu returns as he slowly stands. He glances towards the door and Hisagi smirks.
“Now, you weren’t just thinking of running off, were you?” he asks in his deep, smooth bass. The man pushes calloused hands into his jeans pockets up to his spiked bracelet-encircled wrists. Hisagi gives Uryuu a once-over before taking a measured pair of steps towards him. “I’m kind of excited to see you after all this time.”
“It has been too long. But I have an exam to get to now, so-”
“Right. College-boy, huh? Fancy.”
Uryuu forces a weak smile to answer Hisagi’s leer while frantically plotting escape. The way his artfully-lacerated sleeveless black jacket fits his chest is distracting. That and the fact that even his gigai sports the tattoos and choker he is known for. Oh, and the one that hugs his shapely biceps. Uryuu eyes that ominous number on the man’s cheek and swallows hard.
“Yes, well. One must always seek to improve, right?”
He knows Hisagi is the type to continually train and reach new heights of physical and mental capabilities. Even going so far as to take up guitar-playing and column-writing when he’s not teaching recruits, training on his own, or leading his men. Not to mention the man’s impressive scope of personal maturity and his vastly moral character. Those are a few of the many things Uryuu admires about this person.
Somewhere in the back of his head, Uryuu has been dreading this meeting for the simple reason that he’s kind of always had a crush on Hisagi Shuuhei. In spite of stern commands to do otherwise, his brain blithely skips through an imaginative succession of naughty scenarios featuring the punk-styled Shinigami and himself. It doesn’t take long before Uryuu’s heart is pattering succulent anticipation through his veins. He’s not sure he has the strength to turn this opportunity down.
“See, that’s what I like about you, Ishida,” he claims, inching closer while holding steadfast eye-contact. Uryuu couldn’t look away if his life depended on it. “Everything you do is so honest. Even the way you lie to yourself is a form of personal truth.”
Uryuu’s mouth parts on the makings of a puzzled question but then Hisagi is right in front of him, peering down and seeing everything. Though he’s still fully-clothed-for now-Uryuu feels naked under that gaze. Hisagi lifts his glasses away and sets them on the desk Uryuu didn’t realize he was leaning against. The curl of his smile deepens into something purely Cheshire.
“I-I really do need to get to that c-class,” Uryuu stutters badly. He is trembling faintly and Hisagi has yet to actually touch him. This is not going to end well. “So if you’ll excuse-”
“You’re not going anywhere, kid.”
A toothy shark’s grin precedes a graceful dip of the knee and then Uryuu is staring as his pants are deftly breached. Hisagi doesn’t waste a precious second. Uryuu stifles a shocked gasp because the man’s mouth is an inferno around his rapidly-filling erection. Suddenly he doesn’t have the I.Q. to form sentences, much less cohesive ideas that could describe how this feels.
“Hi-Hisagi-san,” he tries, panting around the disjointed syllables. “Ahhhn, this. This is…shit! Nnnh, so wrong. We shouldn’t-”
“Gods, you are cute when you ramble,” he pulls back just long enough to snicker.
Then he sucks Uryuu all the way down, forcing a startled shout. Gripping the desk for dear life, Uryuu struggles to retain some semblance of purpose here. There’s a very good reason he needs to fight this and-what was that, again? Hisagi is extremely good at what he is doing and Uryuu thinks he might die if the Shinigami takes his mouth off him. A skilled tongue swirls up the underside, applying pressure at the dip just below the head, and Uryuu’s mouth falls open on a helpless moan.
His head tips back, exposing his neck and arching his spine. Uryuu’s toes alternately curl and release inside his shoes of their own volition.
Blinking blearily, Uryuu risks a glance down and his breath slithers out of him in a disbelieving exhale: Hisagi is watching him with those sharp grey eyes. It’s yet another representation of that insatiable lust Uryuu keeps inciting in these men. He thinks he’s beginning to develop a weakness for it.
Speaking of weakness, Uryuu’s knees are shaking. He leans further against the desk and accidentally thrusts forward between Hisagi’s cinched lips.
“Sorry,” he whispers because that’s all he can manage. Hisagi hums in amusement and Uryuu goes vaguely cross-eyed for a moment. Already close, that happy accident is the tipping point and he bites his lip after he declares, “Hisagi, I’m close.”
But the man doesn’t retreat. On the contrary, he seems to leer around him and applies stronger suction, pace increasing until Uryuu’s eyes clench themselves closed against an insane rush of pleasure. It burns through him like swift lightning, bright and so potent it’s almost painful. He is still gulping in precious air and shivering delicately from the aftershocks when he belatedly senses Kurosaki’s approach.
Hisagi stands and Uryuu hurriedly adjusts his slacks, with enormous effort. The instant Kurosaki pushes open the door, Hisagi dips down to press an ironically simple kiss to the corner of his open mouth.
“God dammit, Ishida,” Kurosaki reproachfully bellows, striding over to shove Hisagi away from him. The man wordlessly takes the attack with a raised eyebrow and a stoic frown, allowing himself to be moved. “I told you this would happen.”
“Kurosaki, wait-”
“Hisagi, don’t you have any degree of self-control, huh?”
“Kurosaki,” Uryuu repeats, tossing Hisagi an apologetic glance. The man answers it with a flirty half-smile.
“I thought Urahara said you were supposed to be safe for a while,” he barks, turning his attention on Uryuu.
“Something must have changed.”
“Or maybe he’s full of shit. You need to try harder to stay away from these guys!”
“How? Unlike you, Kurosaki, they know how to mask their reiatsu! By the time I detect them it’s too late. They’re simply better at finding me than I am at avoiding them.”
He takes the jab with ill-grace and rounds on Hisagi once more.
“What makes you think you can break into our dimension whenever you want and accost people?” his would-be savior continues. Hisagi shrugs casually and Kurosaki’s scowl darkens. “Did you even ask Ishida if you could kiss him?”
“No, but seeing as he was okay with me sucking him off, I assumed-”
“Hisagi-san!”
Kurosaki stops dead, jaw dropping as he glances between the two of them. When Uryuu doesn’t deny it, he loses steam and backs off Hisagi. The look he turns on Uryuu then is almost wounded and the sight of it makes him ashamed. He almost feels like he somehow dishonored Kurosaki by allowing Hisagi’s actions. Then he realizes how ridiculous that is and eclipses it with irritation.
“Do whatever you want, Ishida,” Kurosaki mutters as he turns to stomp from the room
“Where were we,” purrs Hisagi.
“Going to class to take my exam,” Uryuu firmly states, holding up a hand for the man to keep his distance. Fortunately, he obeys. Uryuu wonders if that ‘cessation’ Urahara mentioned has just had its lease renewed. He gathers up his bag, notebooks, and glasses and heads for the door. As an afterthought, he says, “Thank you for that, Hisagi-san. It was quite…pleasant.”
“Anytime, baby.”
He catches up to Kurosaki a few minutes before their next class begins, gripping his shoulder to stop him when calling his name doesn’t work. Like last night, that same massive flux of indeterminable energy oscillates through him until he breaks contact. Kurosaki tosses him an accusatory glare and purposely walks away from him. Shaken, Uryuu surrenders and finds his seat as their professor walks in.
Returning to his apartment unnoticed is a feat. He hasn’t fought this hard to keep his spirit concealed since sneaking around during the war with Aizen. It doesn’t help that he’s also attempting to seal an entirely new category of emission at the same time. If Kurosaki wasn’t so keen on acting like a twit, Uryuu wouldn’t be doing this in the first place. As it stands, he needs to go home so he can change his clothes, water his plants, and maybe eat a meal. He should probably toss that bowl of noodles he never got to finish, too.
Locking the door firmly behind him, Uryuu sighs as he kicks off his shoes and sets his bag on the coffee table. He runs a hand through his hair and plucks off his glasses to poke at his old friend, the recurring headache. The contact lenses he never wears are starting to sound like a good idea. None of his admirers seem to like his glasses anyway, since almost all of them have initiated by removing the sharp-edged things.
That thought leads to a series of more complicated ones. Uryuu perches wearily on his couch and stares off into space for several minutes. As if the stress of advanced med school exams and spending extra time with Kurosaki weren’t harsh enough, he has also endured a collection of first sexual experiences at the hands-and mouths-of a group of men he couldn’t fathom being with in a very limited amount of time. This wasn’t how he imagined losing his virginity.
Actually, he has carefully avoided imagining it at all. In large part because Uryuu hasn’t wanted to admit to himself who he wants to lose it with, but he’s giving up now. There’s no point in deluding himself further. Regardless of the various willing, gorgeous men ready to give whatever he asks and then some, Uryuu only truly wants one man.
And he’s not on the menu.
Permission abruptly releases the mental floodgates of fantasies featuring Kurosaki. Passionate and forthright Kurosaki. Loyal, kind, clever Kurosaki. Obscenely sexy and completely unaware of it. Equally attractive when frowning thoughtfully or smirking mischievously. Uryuu feels a previously unnamed, unacknowledged frisson of enticing heat spark and smolder within him. His regard for Kurosaki is a thing long-shunned and viciously-vengeful. Set free, it wreaks havoc inside Uryuu and spikes his blood faster than any second-rate erotic episode with a paltry substitute. Amazed by his reaction, he takes his own pulse and is stunned by the result.
It reaches a new level of tachycardia, however, when he hears a tap at his window and sees a figure lurking on the other side of it. He shoots to his feet. Waits. When the intruder doesn’t burst through the glass from the delay, Uryuu cautiously circles around his coffee table and peers out to identify…
“Kurosaki?” he dubiously declares. “Is that you?”
“Who else do you know with bright orange hair?” Kurosaki challenges when Uryuu raises the pane. He’s in Shinigami-form now, probably on one of the patrols he still likes to indulge sometimes. “Besides Inoue.”
“I’d say she’s more of a ginger-toned auburn…”
“Anyway,” dismisses the testy man with an eye-roll. “It’s not like I’m masking my reiatsu.”
“I’m using all of my focus keeping mine in check to bother about yours.”
“You have to stay vigilant, Ishida,” Kurosaki reprimands, stepping into his living room properly, keeping careful hold on Zangetsu, and closing the window behind him. “Renji has been circling the place for the past ten minutes.”
“What!?”
“Don’t worry, I ran him off.”
“That’s not the problem.”
“I thought that was exactly the problem. Is there another one now?”
“No, I mean I thought that since Hisagi and I…” Uryuu trails off as Kurosaki curls a lip faintly in disgust. “It should’ve dampened my ‘influence’ for a while.”
“It didn’t,” Kurosaki immediately states.
“Maybe it just wears off faster than Urahara anticipated?” Resolving to call the shop-owner as soon as possible, Uryuu remembers Kurosaki is supposed to be upset with him. Instead, he’s checking in and even continuing to actively guard him. He knows better than to mention it and start another fight, though. “Thanks for stopping by, but I’m fine. You can get back to your patrol now, Kurosaki.”
“I’m not on patrol.”
“Then why-”
“It’ll be easier to protect you if I don’t have to ditch my body in a pinch,” he explains at Uryuu’s gesture towards his spiritual state. “Yuzu’s apartment-sitting with my body until we get back.”
“‘We’-wait, Kurosaki, I have no intention of remaining your ward.” He raises a pair of fingers to adjust his glasses and smoothly turns the gesture into a rubbing at his headache when he recalls removing them. “I appreciate the assistance up to this point, but I will be fine for the night on my own.”
“Fuck that.”
“Kurosa-”
“Either you come stay at my place or I’m staying at yours,” Kurosaki firmly tells him with the tone of absolute assurance, “But I am not leaving you alone another minute until you figure something else out than ‘using all your focus’ because it’s not working.”
Narrowing his eyes, Uryuu takes an extra second to double-check that he heard right. Belatedly, Kurosaki notices it, too. He glances away and shifts where he stands. Readjusts his sword strap and quietly clears his throat.
“You can sense it, too,” Uryuu carefully enunciates. “This entire time you’ve been getting a quadruple-dose of whatever I’m releasing that’s driving these battle-seasoned Shinigami utterly insane and you’re…you’re completely unaffected. How is that possib-”
“We need to go.”
“Don’t change the subject, Kurosaki.”
“No, Ishida, we need to go,” he urges, alarmed. He grabs Uryuu’s arm and drags him to his bedroom. “It’s fucking Kenpachi, so pack your shit and let’s get the hell out of here. Now!”
Pale with fright, Uryuu nods obediently when he releases his focus to confirm the threat. Never mind that Zaraki shouldn’t be able to sense anyone’s energy, much less a mostly unfamiliar Quincy. He snatches a spare bag from the closet to stuff random clothes into. Luckily, his toiletry bag-also containing his contact lenses-is packed and at hand, his school bag is still ready to go on his table, and he can easily live without everything else for a while. His poor plants will have to suffer.
Kurosaki wordlessly grabs one of his bags and yanks open the front door for him. Leaving his glasses on the table, Uryuu tries his hardest not to imagine what could happen if he were to fall into that insane captain’s clutches. Nobody deserves that fate!
They use shunpo and hirenkyaku to reach Kurosaki’s apartment in a matter of seconds. As soon as they walk through the front door and Kurosaki closes it behind them, he relaxes. At Uryuu’s confused frown, he says, “Working for Urahara had its perks: I had this place shielded when I moved in. One-way reiatsu filter.”
“So no one can detect me while I’m here?” Kurosaki shakes his head. Dubious because he has never experienced Kurosaki’s energy flicking on and off as if by a switch whenever he goes home, Uryuu mentions this and asks, “You’re sure?”
“Yep. Urahara added a barrier that masks the disappearance/reappearance flux. Step outside and see if you can sense me. I’ll even increase the output.”
Kurosaki’s choppy, burning spirit flares out of him and Uryuu stands on the front porch, amazed as it vanishes as soon as the door shuts. He reenters, locks the door behind him, and relaxes for the first time since yesterday morning. Uryuu didn’t realize how much that pent-up energy and the continual effort to contain it were weighing on him until he was free of the obligation. He shoots Kurosaki a grateful smile. Then he loses it in uncertainty. Wincing in something resembling pain, Kurosaki is leaning over the back of his sofa with fists clenched into the black fabric.
“Kurosaki, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he grits, taking measured breaths. “I’m fine.”
After a moment, Kurosaki recovers and he does look fine. He paces down the hall towards his bedroom. Uryuu is too stunned to voice any of the concerns, questions, or comments tumbling around in his head. Instead, he walks into the kitchen to brew tea.
“Hello, Uryuu-kun,” Yuzu greets from beside the stove. He gives a light start and then mirrors her smile. “Ichi-nii said you’d be coming over so I made dinner for you two!”
“That’s so kind, Yuzu-chan. Tonkatsu?”
“With rice and steamed snow-peas!”
“Sounds delicious. Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she chirps, grinning that sweet smile she’s retained throughout adolescence and into early adulthood. “Ichi-nii told me you haven’t been feeling well lately. Let me know if there’s anything I can do, okay?”
“I-thank you, I will,” Uryuu accepts. He never pegged Kurosaki for the type to tell his family about his friends’ troubles. But he has always been close with his sisters. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to make a phone call.”
“Of course.”
Migrating to the living room, Uryuu takes out his cell and hits speed dial number seven. He shoots a nervous glance towards Kurosaki’s room. It’s still closed. Urahara picks up after the third ring.
“Hello~, Urahara Shouten, how may I help you~?”
“Ah, good evening, Urahara-san,” he quietly begins, suddenly awkward with memories of recent intimacy rushing to the forefront. “If you’re not too busy, I would greatly appreciate a quick moment of your time-”
“Relax, Uryuu-kun,” he soothes. Uryuu can practically see the man waving his fan dismissively at his formality. “What’s on your mind?”
“Well, that is to say-I’ll just jump right into it here-I’m not sure that your previous counsel was as applicable as we at first assumed.”
“Consummation theory was a no-go, huh?”
“Precisely.”
“I figured that might be the case.”
“Then why did you-”
“You’ve been spending quite a bit of time with Ichigo lately, haven’t you?”
“Um,” Uryuu balks at that. “I might have…enlisted his services in attenuating my plight.”
“You couldn’t have picked a better cock-blocker,” Urahara cheerfully proclaims. “But this boon may also be a hidden bane.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, ignoring the former comment. “You’re saying he has something to do with the fact that I’m still gushing full-power despite, uh…”
“Getting your rocks off with a couple of dashing devils?” Urahara adeptly finishes for him. “I’m afraid so. You see, about Ichigo-”
Kurosaki chooses that moment to stroll into the living room, back in corporeal form and freshly showered. He plops onto the couch beside Uryuu in a puff of subtle soap-fragrance and warmth. His wet hair shakes a few drops to slide down his neck and absorb into the green tank-stop he wears over a pair of dark grey yoga-pants. And since Uryuu is now picturing Kurosaki doing hot-yoga in those pants and with that dampness, he completely misses whatever Urahara had to say about him.
“I’ll have to call you back,” Uryuu mutters into the phone, pointedly not staring at the muscles on display in Kurosaki’s bare shoulders.
“Ask him why he is the only one unaffected by you.”
“I already did.”
“And he changed the subject, right? Then ask him why he’s helping you.”
“How is that relevant?”
“Think about it, Uryuu.”
Urahara ends the call on that note. Flipping on the TV, Kurosaki glances sidelong at him. Suspicious of his conversation, no doubt. Uryuu rallies his intelligence and considers Urahara’s advice. He doesn’t really see how Kurosaki could be complicating his condition just by existing. Yet, if there’s one person he knows who is almost never wrong, it’s Urahara.
“Hey, Kurosaki.”
“Mn.”
“Why are you helping me?”
That gets him a glance and a small frown. “Because even though you’re a jerk more often than not, you’re still my friend.”
“So you would do this for any of your friends.”
“Well…yeah, I guess.”
“And it doesn’t bother you that you’re effectively protecting my ‘honor’?”
“Yeah, it’s weird, but…I mean you didn’t choose this, right?” He finally turns to meet Uryuu’s steady gaze. “It’s not like you took a pill or signed up for an experiment. It just happened to you.”
Uryuu considers that for a moment. He wonders if Kurosaki sees him as one of his helpless souls, one of hundreds in the mountain he must keep safe under his umbrella of strength. Or is it more than that?
“I’ve been thinking,” he abruptly switches tactics. “Unlike normal humans, you can sense my abnormal energies. Yet, unlike other Shinigami, you are somehow impervious to them. Why is that, exactly?”
“Dinner’s ready,” announces Yuzu, popping a head out of the kitchen to beam at them.
Uryuu mentally groans. Of course something else would prevent this all-important answer at the critical moment. Kurosaki is visibly relieved as he jumps up and joins her in the other room. Scowling, Uryuu stays put and plots his next move.
“What do you mean you can’t stay?” Kurosaki’s nervous voice amplifies. “And your cat-”
“My boyfriend is waiting for me,” she apologizes with her tone. “But I want you two to enjoy the meal. Ichi-neko is a good boy; he won’t give you trouble. Promise!”
“Ichi-neko?” Uryuu laughs aloud.
“But watching Ishida is already like cat-sitting,” Kurosaki whines, making Uryuu bristle and glare.
“Fair is fair, Ichi-nii. I watched you for you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but…”
“I’ll be back to pick him up in a couple of days.”
With that, she waves to Uryuu and leaves them alone with their awkwardness. Uryuu takes pity on the man and decides to call a truce until they finish dinner. Ichi-neko joins them just as they’re relocating to the living room to start a round of studying for tomorrow’s test. It’s a shaggy, lanky thing with brown eyes and vividly orange fur a few shades from Kurosaki’s own. Uryuu bursts into chuckles at the sight of it.
“Shut up,” the cat’s namesake complains, tingeing red around the cheeks. “Hand me that calculator, would you?”
“I mean, look at him!” Uryuu cries, picking the animal up to gently place in his lap. The cat begins to purr on contact, looking up at him curiously. He pets it after a quiet moment of greeting. “Are you sure you’re not related?”
“It’s just a damn cat.”
“He’s adorable!” Uryuu lowers his nose to let the cat touch with his own, scratching gently at the sides of his angular jaw. He grins when he gets a friendly meow for his efforts. Then Ichi-neko plops down and rolls over to expose his belly for petting. Giddy with delight, Uryuu obliges the animal with gentle strokes over his cream-colored down. “I might have to steal your sister’s pet, Kurosaki.”
“That is so unfair, Ishida.”
The strained cadence of his words has Uryuu looking up to catch his reaction but Kurosaki is facing away from him, rising ostensibly to refill his drink. Uryuu notices his fingers grip tighter than necessary to the half-full glass. When he returns, his expression is blank. He reaches across Uryuu to grab the calculator and turns to his work with an unprecedented ardor.
Part 3
Rating: NC-17
Status: Complete
Word count: 18k
Pairings: Kurosaki Ichigo/Ishida Uryuu; Ishida Uryuu/several other male characters
Warnings: Lots of sexual situations, language, brief alcohol use
Part 1
Over waffles the next morning, Kurosaki is the one imprudent enough to bring the subject back up.
“So this thing…”
“Hm?”
“Is it like…mostly a sex-thing ordoes it make people like-like you, too?”
“I-I can’t say for sure,” Uryuu stutters because it’s too early for this level of awkward. Imagine talking with Kurosaki about his sex life!
“Ayasegawa seemed solely interested in physical gratification but Abarai claimed he ‘really likes’ me. He even asked me out.”
“No shit,” Kurosaki huffs in surprise. “What about Urahara? I can’t picture that guy confessing to anyone.”
“His confession was more of an after-thought,” Uryuu divulges, recalling the event in distracting detail. “Though I suppose a confession after is better than one right before you…um.”
“You didn’t just kiss Urahara, did you?”
With that question, Kurosaki stares at his half-eaten food instead of Uryuu.
“Not really.”
“Wow,” Kurosaki mutters to himself. “That explains…”
“What?”
“Uh, nothing. Forget I said anything.” Uryuu glares, presuming more criticism. Kurosaki continues to avoid looking at him. Thanks to his curiosity, though, he just won’t shut up. “How do you turn it off?”
“I don’t know that, either.”
“Urahara knew about the condition but not its cure?”
“He said something about finding a specific person and…fulfilling certain conditions.”
“Conditions? You mean fucking one of the guys you attract?”
Uryuu gives a full-body twitch at that and the tension in his spine ratchets up another notch. He truly cannot comprehend how this could possibly become any more embarrassing.
“If you must put it that way.”
“But fucking Urahara didn’t work,” he asks in the tone of a statement, easily surpassing previous embarrassment. “Wonder why.”
“First, Kurosaki, I did not ‘fuck’ Urahara-san. It was more like…frottage,” Uryuu feels compelled to differentiate. “Second-”
“Why do you even know that word?”
“Why do you?” he snarks right back, feeling his blood pressure begin to rise. “Second, it did work but only as a temporary remedy.”
“Then it didn’t work. What, he didn’t do it for you, Ishida?”
“He did it fine, Kurosaki.”
“Oh, so you’re cured?”
“You know I’m not-why are you being so obstinate about this?”
“I’m just saying, maybe Urahara’s tired old ass isn’t up to par,” he quips. Uryuu stares at him until he returns the look. “What? Am I wrong?”
“At least he tried.”
“What are you saying?”
Now they face off, a host of strange, inappropriate thoughts flitting between them. Uryuu doesn’t understand Kurosaki’s attitude. If anything, he should be grateful to Urahara for helping. As Uryuu’s friend, he should be happy for him. Instead of acting like a dick about it. If Uryuu didn’t know better, he’d say it seems like jealousy. Now he’s waiting for Uryuu to admit he’s siding with Urahara partly because, unlike Kurosaki, he was kind enough to try helping him out by fooling around with him.
“Never mind. Let’s just study for exams, Kurosaki.”
“Wait, what do you plan on doing about all this? You can’t keep running around like this without causing chaos.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Uryuu growls. Recovering, he explains, “I’m going to focus on acing my tests today and then worry about a strategy for conquering this unexpected obstacle later.”
“But-”
“Let’s just study!”
“Ugh, fine!”
His first in a series of difficult examinations goes exceedingly well. Uryuu is confident of his performance and congratulates himself with a trip to the café between classes for lunch. A bento of pre-packaged sushi is calling his name and he doesn’t bother talking himself out of the expense today. Sipping tea and enjoying his sushi, Uryuu allows a tiny grain of ease to take root. Things aren’t horrible if he can still maintain good academic standing and make time for a nice lunch, after all.
With half an hour left to kill, Uryuu steals away to one of the empty classrooms in the building for a little last-minute studying. He tracks Kurosaki’s reiatsu a floor below him out of habit. The heft of his trusty messenger bag is an inexplicable comfort as he takes out a notebook to peruse. A quiet creak alerts him to a presence entering the room. Just like that, Uryuu’s drifting balloon of optimism is savagely pierced.
“Hey, Ishida,” Hisagi Shuuhei calls from in front of the dry-erase board. “Long time no see.”
“Hisagi-san,” Uryuu returns as he slowly stands. He glances towards the door and Hisagi smirks.
“Now, you weren’t just thinking of running off, were you?” he asks in his deep, smooth bass. The man pushes calloused hands into his jeans pockets up to his spiked bracelet-encircled wrists. Hisagi gives Uryuu a once-over before taking a measured pair of steps towards him. “I’m kind of excited to see you after all this time.”
“It has been too long. But I have an exam to get to now, so-”
“Right. College-boy, huh? Fancy.”
Uryuu forces a weak smile to answer Hisagi’s leer while frantically plotting escape. The way his artfully-lacerated sleeveless black jacket fits his chest is distracting. That and the fact that even his gigai sports the tattoos and choker he is known for. Oh, and the one that hugs his shapely biceps. Uryuu eyes that ominous number on the man’s cheek and swallows hard.
“Yes, well. One must always seek to improve, right?”
He knows Hisagi is the type to continually train and reach new heights of physical and mental capabilities. Even going so far as to take up guitar-playing and column-writing when he’s not teaching recruits, training on his own, or leading his men. Not to mention the man’s impressive scope of personal maturity and his vastly moral character. Those are a few of the many things Uryuu admires about this person.
Somewhere in the back of his head, Uryuu has been dreading this meeting for the simple reason that he’s kind of always had a crush on Hisagi Shuuhei. In spite of stern commands to do otherwise, his brain blithely skips through an imaginative succession of naughty scenarios featuring the punk-styled Shinigami and himself. It doesn’t take long before Uryuu’s heart is pattering succulent anticipation through his veins. He’s not sure he has the strength to turn this opportunity down.
“See, that’s what I like about you, Ishida,” he claims, inching closer while holding steadfast eye-contact. Uryuu couldn’t look away if his life depended on it. “Everything you do is so honest. Even the way you lie to yourself is a form of personal truth.”
Uryuu’s mouth parts on the makings of a puzzled question but then Hisagi is right in front of him, peering down and seeing everything. Though he’s still fully-clothed-for now-Uryuu feels naked under that gaze. Hisagi lifts his glasses away and sets them on the desk Uryuu didn’t realize he was leaning against. The curl of his smile deepens into something purely Cheshire.
“I-I really do need to get to that c-class,” Uryuu stutters badly. He is trembling faintly and Hisagi has yet to actually touch him. This is not going to end well. “So if you’ll excuse-”
“You’re not going anywhere, kid.”
A toothy shark’s grin precedes a graceful dip of the knee and then Uryuu is staring as his pants are deftly breached. Hisagi doesn’t waste a precious second. Uryuu stifles a shocked gasp because the man’s mouth is an inferno around his rapidly-filling erection. Suddenly he doesn’t have the I.Q. to form sentences, much less cohesive ideas that could describe how this feels.
“Hi-Hisagi-san,” he tries, panting around the disjointed syllables. “Ahhhn, this. This is…shit! Nnnh, so wrong. We shouldn’t-”
“Gods, you are cute when you ramble,” he pulls back just long enough to snicker.
Then he sucks Uryuu all the way down, forcing a startled shout. Gripping the desk for dear life, Uryuu struggles to retain some semblance of purpose here. There’s a very good reason he needs to fight this and-what was that, again? Hisagi is extremely good at what he is doing and Uryuu thinks he might die if the Shinigami takes his mouth off him. A skilled tongue swirls up the underside, applying pressure at the dip just below the head, and Uryuu’s mouth falls open on a helpless moan.
His head tips back, exposing his neck and arching his spine. Uryuu’s toes alternately curl and release inside his shoes of their own volition.
Blinking blearily, Uryuu risks a glance down and his breath slithers out of him in a disbelieving exhale: Hisagi is watching him with those sharp grey eyes. It’s yet another representation of that insatiable lust Uryuu keeps inciting in these men. He thinks he’s beginning to develop a weakness for it.
Speaking of weakness, Uryuu’s knees are shaking. He leans further against the desk and accidentally thrusts forward between Hisagi’s cinched lips.
“Sorry,” he whispers because that’s all he can manage. Hisagi hums in amusement and Uryuu goes vaguely cross-eyed for a moment. Already close, that happy accident is the tipping point and he bites his lip after he declares, “Hisagi, I’m close.”
But the man doesn’t retreat. On the contrary, he seems to leer around him and applies stronger suction, pace increasing until Uryuu’s eyes clench themselves closed against an insane rush of pleasure. It burns through him like swift lightning, bright and so potent it’s almost painful. He is still gulping in precious air and shivering delicately from the aftershocks when he belatedly senses Kurosaki’s approach.
Hisagi stands and Uryuu hurriedly adjusts his slacks, with enormous effort. The instant Kurosaki pushes open the door, Hisagi dips down to press an ironically simple kiss to the corner of his open mouth.
“God dammit, Ishida,” Kurosaki reproachfully bellows, striding over to shove Hisagi away from him. The man wordlessly takes the attack with a raised eyebrow and a stoic frown, allowing himself to be moved. “I told you this would happen.”
“Kurosaki, wait-”
“Hisagi, don’t you have any degree of self-control, huh?”
“Kurosaki,” Uryuu repeats, tossing Hisagi an apologetic glance. The man answers it with a flirty half-smile.
“I thought Urahara said you were supposed to be safe for a while,” he barks, turning his attention on Uryuu.
“Something must have changed.”
“Or maybe he’s full of shit. You need to try harder to stay away from these guys!”
“How? Unlike you, Kurosaki, they know how to mask their reiatsu! By the time I detect them it’s too late. They’re simply better at finding me than I am at avoiding them.”
He takes the jab with ill-grace and rounds on Hisagi once more.
“What makes you think you can break into our dimension whenever you want and accost people?” his would-be savior continues. Hisagi shrugs casually and Kurosaki’s scowl darkens. “Did you even ask Ishida if you could kiss him?”
“No, but seeing as he was okay with me sucking him off, I assumed-”
“Hisagi-san!”
Kurosaki stops dead, jaw dropping as he glances between the two of them. When Uryuu doesn’t deny it, he loses steam and backs off Hisagi. The look he turns on Uryuu then is almost wounded and the sight of it makes him ashamed. He almost feels like he somehow dishonored Kurosaki by allowing Hisagi’s actions. Then he realizes how ridiculous that is and eclipses it with irritation.
“Do whatever you want, Ishida,” Kurosaki mutters as he turns to stomp from the room
“Where were we,” purrs Hisagi.
“Going to class to take my exam,” Uryuu firmly states, holding up a hand for the man to keep his distance. Fortunately, he obeys. Uryuu wonders if that ‘cessation’ Urahara mentioned has just had its lease renewed. He gathers up his bag, notebooks, and glasses and heads for the door. As an afterthought, he says, “Thank you for that, Hisagi-san. It was quite…pleasant.”
“Anytime, baby.”
He catches up to Kurosaki a few minutes before their next class begins, gripping his shoulder to stop him when calling his name doesn’t work. Like last night, that same massive flux of indeterminable energy oscillates through him until he breaks contact. Kurosaki tosses him an accusatory glare and purposely walks away from him. Shaken, Uryuu surrenders and finds his seat as their professor walks in.
Returning to his apartment unnoticed is a feat. He hasn’t fought this hard to keep his spirit concealed since sneaking around during the war with Aizen. It doesn’t help that he’s also attempting to seal an entirely new category of emission at the same time. If Kurosaki wasn’t so keen on acting like a twit, Uryuu wouldn’t be doing this in the first place. As it stands, he needs to go home so he can change his clothes, water his plants, and maybe eat a meal. He should probably toss that bowl of noodles he never got to finish, too.
Locking the door firmly behind him, Uryuu sighs as he kicks off his shoes and sets his bag on the coffee table. He runs a hand through his hair and plucks off his glasses to poke at his old friend, the recurring headache. The contact lenses he never wears are starting to sound like a good idea. None of his admirers seem to like his glasses anyway, since almost all of them have initiated by removing the sharp-edged things.
That thought leads to a series of more complicated ones. Uryuu perches wearily on his couch and stares off into space for several minutes. As if the stress of advanced med school exams and spending extra time with Kurosaki weren’t harsh enough, he has also endured a collection of first sexual experiences at the hands-and mouths-of a group of men he couldn’t fathom being with in a very limited amount of time. This wasn’t how he imagined losing his virginity.
Actually, he has carefully avoided imagining it at all. In large part because Uryuu hasn’t wanted to admit to himself who he wants to lose it with, but he’s giving up now. There’s no point in deluding himself further. Regardless of the various willing, gorgeous men ready to give whatever he asks and then some, Uryuu only truly wants one man.
And he’s not on the menu.
Permission abruptly releases the mental floodgates of fantasies featuring Kurosaki. Passionate and forthright Kurosaki. Loyal, kind, clever Kurosaki. Obscenely sexy and completely unaware of it. Equally attractive when frowning thoughtfully or smirking mischievously. Uryuu feels a previously unnamed, unacknowledged frisson of enticing heat spark and smolder within him. His regard for Kurosaki is a thing long-shunned and viciously-vengeful. Set free, it wreaks havoc inside Uryuu and spikes his blood faster than any second-rate erotic episode with a paltry substitute. Amazed by his reaction, he takes his own pulse and is stunned by the result.
It reaches a new level of tachycardia, however, when he hears a tap at his window and sees a figure lurking on the other side of it. He shoots to his feet. Waits. When the intruder doesn’t burst through the glass from the delay, Uryuu cautiously circles around his coffee table and peers out to identify…
“Kurosaki?” he dubiously declares. “Is that you?”
“Who else do you know with bright orange hair?” Kurosaki challenges when Uryuu raises the pane. He’s in Shinigami-form now, probably on one of the patrols he still likes to indulge sometimes. “Besides Inoue.”
“I’d say she’s more of a ginger-toned auburn…”
“Anyway,” dismisses the testy man with an eye-roll. “It’s not like I’m masking my reiatsu.”
“I’m using all of my focus keeping mine in check to bother about yours.”
“You have to stay vigilant, Ishida,” Kurosaki reprimands, stepping into his living room properly, keeping careful hold on Zangetsu, and closing the window behind him. “Renji has been circling the place for the past ten minutes.”
“What!?”
“Don’t worry, I ran him off.”
“That’s not the problem.”
“I thought that was exactly the problem. Is there another one now?”
“No, I mean I thought that since Hisagi and I…” Uryuu trails off as Kurosaki curls a lip faintly in disgust. “It should’ve dampened my ‘influence’ for a while.”
“It didn’t,” Kurosaki immediately states.
“Maybe it just wears off faster than Urahara anticipated?” Resolving to call the shop-owner as soon as possible, Uryuu remembers Kurosaki is supposed to be upset with him. Instead, he’s checking in and even continuing to actively guard him. He knows better than to mention it and start another fight, though. “Thanks for stopping by, but I’m fine. You can get back to your patrol now, Kurosaki.”
“I’m not on patrol.”
“Then why-”
“It’ll be easier to protect you if I don’t have to ditch my body in a pinch,” he explains at Uryuu’s gesture towards his spiritual state. “Yuzu’s apartment-sitting with my body until we get back.”
“‘We’-wait, Kurosaki, I have no intention of remaining your ward.” He raises a pair of fingers to adjust his glasses and smoothly turns the gesture into a rubbing at his headache when he recalls removing them. “I appreciate the assistance up to this point, but I will be fine for the night on my own.”
“Fuck that.”
“Kurosa-”
“Either you come stay at my place or I’m staying at yours,” Kurosaki firmly tells him with the tone of absolute assurance, “But I am not leaving you alone another minute until you figure something else out than ‘using all your focus’ because it’s not working.”
Narrowing his eyes, Uryuu takes an extra second to double-check that he heard right. Belatedly, Kurosaki notices it, too. He glances away and shifts where he stands. Readjusts his sword strap and quietly clears his throat.
“You can sense it, too,” Uryuu carefully enunciates. “This entire time you’ve been getting a quadruple-dose of whatever I’m releasing that’s driving these battle-seasoned Shinigami utterly insane and you’re…you’re completely unaffected. How is that possib-”
“We need to go.”
“Don’t change the subject, Kurosaki.”
“No, Ishida, we need to go,” he urges, alarmed. He grabs Uryuu’s arm and drags him to his bedroom. “It’s fucking Kenpachi, so pack your shit and let’s get the hell out of here. Now!”
Pale with fright, Uryuu nods obediently when he releases his focus to confirm the threat. Never mind that Zaraki shouldn’t be able to sense anyone’s energy, much less a mostly unfamiliar Quincy. He snatches a spare bag from the closet to stuff random clothes into. Luckily, his toiletry bag-also containing his contact lenses-is packed and at hand, his school bag is still ready to go on his table, and he can easily live without everything else for a while. His poor plants will have to suffer.
Kurosaki wordlessly grabs one of his bags and yanks open the front door for him. Leaving his glasses on the table, Uryuu tries his hardest not to imagine what could happen if he were to fall into that insane captain’s clutches. Nobody deserves that fate!
They use shunpo and hirenkyaku to reach Kurosaki’s apartment in a matter of seconds. As soon as they walk through the front door and Kurosaki closes it behind them, he relaxes. At Uryuu’s confused frown, he says, “Working for Urahara had its perks: I had this place shielded when I moved in. One-way reiatsu filter.”
“So no one can detect me while I’m here?” Kurosaki shakes his head. Dubious because he has never experienced Kurosaki’s energy flicking on and off as if by a switch whenever he goes home, Uryuu mentions this and asks, “You’re sure?”
“Yep. Urahara added a barrier that masks the disappearance/reappearance flux. Step outside and see if you can sense me. I’ll even increase the output.”
Kurosaki’s choppy, burning spirit flares out of him and Uryuu stands on the front porch, amazed as it vanishes as soon as the door shuts. He reenters, locks the door behind him, and relaxes for the first time since yesterday morning. Uryuu didn’t realize how much that pent-up energy and the continual effort to contain it were weighing on him until he was free of the obligation. He shoots Kurosaki a grateful smile. Then he loses it in uncertainty. Wincing in something resembling pain, Kurosaki is leaning over the back of his sofa with fists clenched into the black fabric.
“Kurosaki, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he grits, taking measured breaths. “I’m fine.”
After a moment, Kurosaki recovers and he does look fine. He paces down the hall towards his bedroom. Uryuu is too stunned to voice any of the concerns, questions, or comments tumbling around in his head. Instead, he walks into the kitchen to brew tea.
“Hello, Uryuu-kun,” Yuzu greets from beside the stove. He gives a light start and then mirrors her smile. “Ichi-nii said you’d be coming over so I made dinner for you two!”
“That’s so kind, Yuzu-chan. Tonkatsu?”
“With rice and steamed snow-peas!”
“Sounds delicious. Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she chirps, grinning that sweet smile she’s retained throughout adolescence and into early adulthood. “Ichi-nii told me you haven’t been feeling well lately. Let me know if there’s anything I can do, okay?”
“I-thank you, I will,” Uryuu accepts. He never pegged Kurosaki for the type to tell his family about his friends’ troubles. But he has always been close with his sisters. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to make a phone call.”
“Of course.”
Migrating to the living room, Uryuu takes out his cell and hits speed dial number seven. He shoots a nervous glance towards Kurosaki’s room. It’s still closed. Urahara picks up after the third ring.
“Hello~, Urahara Shouten, how may I help you~?”
“Ah, good evening, Urahara-san,” he quietly begins, suddenly awkward with memories of recent intimacy rushing to the forefront. “If you’re not too busy, I would greatly appreciate a quick moment of your time-”
“Relax, Uryuu-kun,” he soothes. Uryuu can practically see the man waving his fan dismissively at his formality. “What’s on your mind?”
“Well, that is to say-I’ll just jump right into it here-I’m not sure that your previous counsel was as applicable as we at first assumed.”
“Consummation theory was a no-go, huh?”
“Precisely.”
“I figured that might be the case.”
“Then why did you-”
“You’ve been spending quite a bit of time with Ichigo lately, haven’t you?”
“Um,” Uryuu balks at that. “I might have…enlisted his services in attenuating my plight.”
“You couldn’t have picked a better cock-blocker,” Urahara cheerfully proclaims. “But this boon may also be a hidden bane.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, ignoring the former comment. “You’re saying he has something to do with the fact that I’m still gushing full-power despite, uh…”
“Getting your rocks off with a couple of dashing devils?” Urahara adeptly finishes for him. “I’m afraid so. You see, about Ichigo-”
Kurosaki chooses that moment to stroll into the living room, back in corporeal form and freshly showered. He plops onto the couch beside Uryuu in a puff of subtle soap-fragrance and warmth. His wet hair shakes a few drops to slide down his neck and absorb into the green tank-stop he wears over a pair of dark grey yoga-pants. And since Uryuu is now picturing Kurosaki doing hot-yoga in those pants and with that dampness, he completely misses whatever Urahara had to say about him.
“I’ll have to call you back,” Uryuu mutters into the phone, pointedly not staring at the muscles on display in Kurosaki’s bare shoulders.
“Ask him why he is the only one unaffected by you.”
“I already did.”
“And he changed the subject, right? Then ask him why he’s helping you.”
“How is that relevant?”
“Think about it, Uryuu.”
Urahara ends the call on that note. Flipping on the TV, Kurosaki glances sidelong at him. Suspicious of his conversation, no doubt. Uryuu rallies his intelligence and considers Urahara’s advice. He doesn’t really see how Kurosaki could be complicating his condition just by existing. Yet, if there’s one person he knows who is almost never wrong, it’s Urahara.
“Hey, Kurosaki.”
“Mn.”
“Why are you helping me?”
That gets him a glance and a small frown. “Because even though you’re a jerk more often than not, you’re still my friend.”
“So you would do this for any of your friends.”
“Well…yeah, I guess.”
“And it doesn’t bother you that you’re effectively protecting my ‘honor’?”
“Yeah, it’s weird, but…I mean you didn’t choose this, right?” He finally turns to meet Uryuu’s steady gaze. “It’s not like you took a pill or signed up for an experiment. It just happened to you.”
Uryuu considers that for a moment. He wonders if Kurosaki sees him as one of his helpless souls, one of hundreds in the mountain he must keep safe under his umbrella of strength. Or is it more than that?
“I’ve been thinking,” he abruptly switches tactics. “Unlike normal humans, you can sense my abnormal energies. Yet, unlike other Shinigami, you are somehow impervious to them. Why is that, exactly?”
“Dinner’s ready,” announces Yuzu, popping a head out of the kitchen to beam at them.
Uryuu mentally groans. Of course something else would prevent this all-important answer at the critical moment. Kurosaki is visibly relieved as he jumps up and joins her in the other room. Scowling, Uryuu stays put and plots his next move.
“What do you mean you can’t stay?” Kurosaki’s nervous voice amplifies. “And your cat-”
“My boyfriend is waiting for me,” she apologizes with her tone. “But I want you two to enjoy the meal. Ichi-neko is a good boy; he won’t give you trouble. Promise!”
“Ichi-neko?” Uryuu laughs aloud.
“But watching Ishida is already like cat-sitting,” Kurosaki whines, making Uryuu bristle and glare.
“Fair is fair, Ichi-nii. I watched you for you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but…”
“I’ll be back to pick him up in a couple of days.”
With that, she waves to Uryuu and leaves them alone with their awkwardness. Uryuu takes pity on the man and decides to call a truce until they finish dinner. Ichi-neko joins them just as they’re relocating to the living room to start a round of studying for tomorrow’s test. It’s a shaggy, lanky thing with brown eyes and vividly orange fur a few shades from Kurosaki’s own. Uryuu bursts into chuckles at the sight of it.
“Shut up,” the cat’s namesake complains, tingeing red around the cheeks. “Hand me that calculator, would you?”
“I mean, look at him!” Uryuu cries, picking the animal up to gently place in his lap. The cat begins to purr on contact, looking up at him curiously. He pets it after a quiet moment of greeting. “Are you sure you’re not related?”
“It’s just a damn cat.”
“He’s adorable!” Uryuu lowers his nose to let the cat touch with his own, scratching gently at the sides of his angular jaw. He grins when he gets a friendly meow for his efforts. Then Ichi-neko plops down and rolls over to expose his belly for petting. Giddy with delight, Uryuu obliges the animal with gentle strokes over his cream-colored down. “I might have to steal your sister’s pet, Kurosaki.”
“That is so unfair, Ishida.”
The strained cadence of his words has Uryuu looking up to catch his reaction but Kurosaki is facing away from him, rising ostensibly to refill his drink. Uryuu notices his fingers grip tighter than necessary to the half-full glass. When he returns, his expression is blank. He reaches across Uryuu to grab the calculator and turns to his work with an unprecedented ardor.
Part 3