Chapter 1

Three bodies lay out side by side. Trails of blood, each from their own direction met at the corpses. Each one had lied there long enough to have a small pool of their own blood surrounding their forms. Blood splattered around the room the three lay in. Soft thuds from bare feet were heard by the culprit as he carried the final victim down the stairs bridal style to join the others. The lifeless body dripped its own trail of blood behind it and once left next to the others, it began to contribute to the still growing pool of blood.

He looked into the still eyes of the last one before grazing his hand over to close them. Next he took the body's arms, and crossed them over its chest. He repeated this simple act with the other three corpses. He grabbed a stray blanket from the now bloodstained couch. He draped the fabric over the four bodies making sure their heads were covered. After, he slowly made his way to a small black backpack sitting on the ground next to the door. The scratchy sound of the zipper broke the otherwise silence. Slipping the bloody knife out of his back pocket and into the worn pack, he pulled out a small bouquet of calla lilies. Pulling them out one at a time from the bunch, he laid one down on each of the covered corpses.

He sobbed softly and silent tears began to run down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. A soft touch caused him to look up into glowing gold on black eyes. "Are you sure this had to be done?"

"It was the only way. They needed to go," the other one smiled and wiped away the tears staining the asker's cheeks. "Come here," the golden eyed one said opening his arms. The other one welcomed the comforting embrace and sobbed. The two slipped down gently to floor, ignoring the pool of blood now soaking their clothes. "Shhh, shhh, it's ok. You still have me," he gently rocked the crying young man, "That's all you need. Remember that, ok? No one will take you away or make me go with them gone. We can start new."

There was a knock at the door. They didn't break their embrace as they looked up. The crying stopped and was replaced with short gasping breaths of panic. "No, no, no," he panted out," You said no one would find out. You said nothing would happen. You said this would make me safe!" The panicking one gripped tightly to his holder. A pale hand ran through sweaty orange locks. His other arm pulled the other closer.

"Shhh…shhh…it's ok. Just stay quiet," the pale one hushed. The knocking continued and with each knock the orange headed one sobbed louder and louder and his panic grew. The soft touches and gentle words were doing nothing to calm him down.

"Hello? Is everything ok in there? I thought I heard crying," an almost sickly sweet voice laced with concern said from behind the door. The handle started to jiggle slightly and panic turned into hyperventilating. "Hello?" The handle moved more violently; the person on the other side more eager to get in.

"Shhh, you have to be quiet," the comforter whispered. He tried rubbing the weeping ones back and pulled him in closer to his chest to try and stifle noise coming from him. He looked at the door and scowled. This wasn't part of his plan. It was supposed to be simple. Convince the strawberry to kill his family and run away to a place no one could take his sweet pet away. They had learned too much and the deeds would not go unpunished. He had heard their whispers. The accusations. The threats. The lies cleverly disguised as concern. They wanted him gone, but he was the only one the strawberry had to keep him sane. The young man had lost too much already, but when it came down to it, sacrifices needed to be made. Anything to save the one he loved.

The knocks had turned into slams by then. The door was creaking under the pressure. The holder gripped his prize. He knew he was trapped but wasn't going to go down without a fight. The other sobs had turned to screams and as he got louder the pounds got harder. Before he knew it, the door had been broken into. The orangette's sobs ceased with a sharp gasp. He pushed his way back on the floor until he couldn't go back any farther. His hands reached out for anything to grab onto, but were met with nothing. Wide chocolate eyes stared at the two figures in his doorway.

"I…Ichigo?" a soft voice matching the one before choked out, "What…what happened here?"

"Stay…stay away!" He tried backing up more but his feet just skidded against the floor.

"What happened here Itsygo?" The other visitor asked and took a couple steps forward. When Ichigo began to visibly panic, she stopped and crouched down. "It's ok. We are your fwrends, remember? Orihime, call emergency. Tell them to send an ambulance and the police."

"No! You can't! They will take me away! I can't leave him," Ichigo seemed to grab open air and hug it.

"Leave who Itsygo?" Greyed out green eyes looked at her friend confused.

"Shiro…I…can't leave Shiro. They wanted to take me away…g-get rid of him. I need him Nel," he seemed to clutch the air even tighter.

"There is no one there. Orihime, make the call. We are going to get you help Itsygo. It's ok," Neliel moved closer and took the now trembling young man in her arms. His sobs began again.

"They are on their way," Orihime said softly as she kneeled down next to the conjoined pair. She smoothed Ichigo's hair, "Can you tell us what happened? Did you do this Ichigo?"

"I didn't have a choice. I…I didn't have a choice!"

If looks could kill, the one Shiro was giving the two girls would have struck them dead. Not only did they invade on his territory, but they ripped his Ichigo right from his arms. And what made it even worse? He went right into their waiting embrace without a fight. It was his job to keep his strawberry safe. His job to keep him sane. He was his to take care of and love. Not these two whores! How dare they be so thoughtless to not just him, but Ichigo! Didn't they understand Ichigo didn't need their care, but his and only his? They would be next he decided. And if more came, then more would go. Blood can be cleaned. His king could not be repaired again. He had come too far.

Multiple sirens came and people of all sorts had invaded the home. The scene was cleaned up and the victims all given a proper burial. Three buried in the family grave next to the once matriarch of the family. The last buried next to her sister who had past many years before. Ichigo was tried and convicted under insanity. His sentence was rehabilitation in an asylum instead of prison. But the level of security made it nothing more than just a prison with nicer bedrooms. No one there expected the young man to heal. No amount of therapy would fix Ichigo after all he had been through. Drugs seemed to be the only consistent way to calm him to a reasonable level. Every doctor knew he would be there until his life ended.

But still, they tried. Their constant oath to help kept them moving with their impossible task. And not just with Ichigo, but every impossible patient in the east wing of Los Noches; the biggest building of Hueco Mundo Asylum. It was reserved for those considered impossible to rehabilitate but not severely dangerous. Each patient still had their own room as a precaution and there was very little interaction between the patients. A small amount of time at meals, and a small period set aside for extracurricular time was all they got. The only real time of human interaction was with their assigned therapist.

"November 27th, day 9. Patient: Ichigo Kurosaki. Interview number 4. Dr. Jushiro Ukitake administrating. Hello Ichigo," the doctor smiled to the young man curled into himself on the couch. He almost looked as if he was cuddling up to someone. Jushiro's greeting was responded with a soft nod of the head. He had been told Ichigo was a special case by the others who had done the previous interview sessions with him. The main focus being that the young man needed to be treated gently or he lost control. Other than that, he had very little information on the orangette beyond the court files, a basic history, and accounts from friends. Stil, Jushiro had agreed to take the young man on as his patient where the others had refused.

"How are you feeling today?" Again a silent gesture was the only response. "Don't feel like talking today?" Ichigo shook his head no. "That's ok Ichigo, but I at least need you to answer a couple questions for me, ok?" Jushiro asked.

Ichigo just curled up even more. The young man had been asked the same questions in the past three interviews and was sure the questions the new therapist wanted the answers too were the same. Each of the other times, Shiro had gone out of control and Ichigo had to be sedated. However, this was the first time a doctor was so foreword about his intentions of the interview. Normally they tried to warm up to him first before asking about touchy issues.

After waiting for several seconds, Jushiro deemed he was not going to get anymore of a reaction. "Let's start with a broad one ok?" he smiled hoping it would settle the young man in front of him, "Who is Shiro, Ichigo, and where did he come from?"

AN: Hello. So this is a bit of a trial chapter for a plot bunny that has been plaguing me. Please review with any thoughts on it. I'd prefer if there was no flaming. There are more respectful ways to say something is terrible if you feel it is.

For anyone who reads this and has read or is reading my other story, 87: The Forgotten Twin, I have not given up on it, nor is this to be a replacement. I am having a bit of writers block on it, but it's starting to break and I got some new ideas, so a chapter should be coming soon once my jumbled brain puts everything in place and school slows down a bit.

Thank you everyone!