Author's Note: I hope you guys like this cute little fic! I wanted to experiment with something a little different!
I've heard the stories a million times. So many times, in fact, I feel like it could be a fairytale. And if it weren't for the tiny, cursive 'I' on my wrist, I'd think it was just that- a cute, romantic story for parents to regale their children with.
The story goes like this. Long, long ago, when mankind was new, the benevolent Soul King bestowed upon them the gift of love. And with that gift came the concept of soulmates- the other half of your heart. But humanity cried, 'How will we ever find them? With so many people being born in the world, how could we possibly find our soulmate?' So the Soul King offered a simple solution. On the morning of every person's sixteenth birthday, a mark appeared on their wrist. That mark was the first letter of their soulmate's last name. He couldn't make it too easy, now could he? That totally eliminated the thrill of the hunt.
But what happens when someone finds their soulmate, you ask? It's easy. Their mark disappears. All it takes is physical contact. A handshake. A tap on the back. A kiss. Anything.
My name's Ichigo Kurosaki. I'm twenty-six years old, I'm a Cancer.
And my mark is intact.
I'm actually surprised that I haven't lost it without noticing, to be honest. I touch a lot of people. Well, not like that, of course. I'm a nurse. I work with my father, who's the only doctor in our small family clinic. We do everything, from annual exams to simple surgeries. It's not everyone's cup of tea. My father's the biggest pain in the ass imaginable, but hey, we're family. Besides, you can't beat the commute when your workplace is just downstairs from your bedroom.
It was a plus that my girlfriend works there, too.
But wait, you say. Didn't I just say that my mark is intact? That's right. It is. Doesn't mean I have to waste my life away waiting for him or her. Besides, not everyone finds their soulmate. Most do. Some find their soulmate, but marry someone else for purely selfish reasons- money, sex, power. The big ones. Others don't even bother to look. It's just not important to them, I guess. It's a flawed system. Serial killers have soulmates. Some people would rather spend their days alone than with a monster, and I can't say that I blame them.
Me? I just don't want to be alone. It's as simple as that. When one of our marks disappears, we'll re-evaluate. But until then, we're pretty happy, I think.
"Good morning!" she chirps to me, handing me a cup of coffee.
"'Morning." I take the coffee like it's my lifeline. "Do we have a full schedule today, Ms. Inoue?"
She nods. "Lots of sick patients today. Oh! And your father has a meeting at three. Is it okay if I have an ostomy patient come in?"
"My favorite thing," I grimace. "Yeah, that's fine."
Just another day in paradise.
You know, I really meant what I said earlier. This place is paradise. I love the patients. I love helping them. I love swabbing throats, taking temperatures, taking blood pressure and pulses. I love working with the elderly, the adults, the kids, the babies.
Well. Except when it's time to give shots.
One of the most painful things I do is make children cry. Not on purpose, mind you. They just see the needle and go ape shit.
"Aww, c'mon, Ryo. You're gonna make Nurse Ichigo cry." I sat myself across from a rather intuitive toddler who had started to cry the second I walked into the room. I hadn't even pulled out the needle yet! I gave the kid the biggest fake pout I could, lip trembling and all. That seemed to break the tears, and triggered a little smile. Dramatically, I threw my arm over my eyes and pretended to weep.
"It's too late! I'm gonna cry," I warn. Discretely, I turn and take the cap off of the needle. The child had started to laugh and clap his hands. That's my cue to strike. I injected quickly and efficiently, and the kid never even knew that I'd done it until it started to sting. But no worries. I know how to dry those tears, too.
"Hey, now. Who's got stickers?" I ask in sing-song. "Nurse Ichigo has stickers!" I pull a handful of big, colorful, child-pleasing yet calorie-free stickers out of my scrubs. He picked out an Olaf sticker, and I officially handed over jurisdiction to his mother.
I let out a breath and rub my face. Don't get me wrong. My job's great, but it's exhausting.
"Um, nurse? Would you be so kind as to find Dr. Kurosaki for me?"
I turn so hard that I could have easily given myself whiplash. "Excuse me?" I ask, the murder in my voice thinly veiled.
The man before me was young, but there was enough pretentiousness in those ice cold blue eyes for a lifetime. He stood erect, dressed in a white button-down- tucked in, I might add, with black slacks and polished black shoes. If he had a black nametag, he would have passed as a Mormon missionary. He brought a thin finger to his nose to push his glasses up.
"My name is Uryuu Ishida. I'm a third-year medical student. I've been assigned to this clinic for my clinical rotation."
His voice is nasally and plucks each of my nerves in turn. I had to grit my teeth to keep from cringing.
"Protip. I have a name. Do not, ever, under any circumstances address me as 'nurse.' Or shit, any other nurse, for that matter. They will eat you."
I might have been a little bit more intimidating if I weren't in Cookie Monster scrubs.
He's lucky that my father emerged before I had the chance to jump the desk and tackle him to the cold, tile floor.
"Ahh, Ishida, is it?" My dad is always jovial. If he's serious, someone is probably dead or dying. "Your father told me that you'd be coming by. I didn't think it'd be so soon!" He put his arm around the guy's shoulder. "Come on. Let's go talk business. Don't mind my son. He forgot his Oscar the Grouch scrubs," he teased.
"You know, your bitching about my job really makes me feel like a loser."
"That's just because you are a loser, Renji."
"Harsh much?"
It's Monday evening. You know what that means? Drinks with the boys. Well, by 'drinks' I meant 'a drink and a shitton of crappy appetizers.' And by 'boys,' I meant 'the other sadsacks I was friends with that still have their marks.'
But really, they're my ride or die group.
Renji Abarai does tattoos for a living. Good ones, too. He always has a waiting list, if that tells you anything. The man's covered in ink, from his torso to his eyebrows. His hair's on fire, and so is his personality. He was my college roommate, always sprawling out on our dorm floor, papers and pencils scattered everywhere, a cigarette clenched between his teeth. On his wrist is a beautifully penned 'K.' I think he knows whose initial it is, but he's too shy to take the chance and touch her.
Among the four of us, Izuru Kira's the youngest. He's a nervous little thing without a lot of fun in his life. He worked part-time at the record store next door to Renji's studio. For the other half of his time, he's stuck in class or studying in his dorm. The 'O' on his wrist is a source of comfort for him, it seems. Though he was definitely closer to Renji than the rest of us, he was becoming an important member of our Monday Night Bitchfests. Plus, when we re-enact the scene in Step-Brothers where the asshole family sings Sweet Child O' Mine in the car, he carries our asses.
Okay, so the final regular member of our little club isn't a guy. But trust me, she counts. Rukia Kuchiki is probably the ballsiest among us. She's short of stature, meeting the center of my chest, but that just put her at the perfect vantage point for a nutshot. She swears that the 'S' on her wrist is just for show, and that she's going to be her own soulmate. Nobody has the other half of her heart, but she'd give it, should the whim strike her. She works at the bakery across from the record store. Every night, Renji draws an elaborate design on her menu for the next day. The Soul King had blessed Rukia with an assortment of talents, but her drawings have frightened children.
"I'm going to have a med student up my ass for the next eternity. I'd much rather be baking cakes or stocking records." I lean against my hand, my mark clearly visible.
Izuru picks up a cheese stick and tears into it. "I thought all of the students did their practicals at the hospital."
I shrug. "Something about nepotism. I think his dad works there. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. I was trying to change an ostomy bag."
"Eating!" Rukia reminds me, nudging me in the side.
"What's his name?" Renji asks me as he sinks his teeth into his burger.
"Uhh.. Uryuu Ishida, I think."
Renji grins, mixture of ground meat and overly processed bread still rolling around in his mouth. "Didja touch him?"
I grimace. "No! The son of a bitch called me 'Nurse.' I'm keeping hands off, thanks."
"Awww, but he could be your soulmate!" Rukia teased, poking my mark. "How cute would that be?"
I had to pop her in the mouth.
"Anyway, you'll all be interested to know that my brother is coming to town for a visit on Saturday." She looked excited.
"Really?" Izuru asks, eyes wide. "I didn't think that Byakuya Kuchiki would spend any time here. The magazines make him out to be such a prude."
See, Rukia's older brother, Byakuya, makes a living as an actor. A famous one. If I recall correctly, he's an A-lister. I'm not a movie kind of guy, but I've seen his picture in the magazines that Rukia keeps around the bakery as a novelty. Too much of a pretty boy for my taste.
"Yeah. It'll be an interesting week for all of us, I guess."
Having Uryuu around the clinic isn't as god-awful as it could be. He's good for doing the boring shit. He takes vitals pretty well. He's not terrible with the patients. Hell, he'd even learned his place, and 'Nurse' had been quickly replaced with 'Nurse Kurosaki.' He didn't want to call me by my first name, and I'm okay with that. He's just Ishida to me. He's not a doctor yet.
"Son!"
I look up from my desk, where I was looking over some labs for a patient. We had just sent our last patient out the door, and it was just about time to pack up shop. "Yeah, dad?"
"Let Uryuu take blood."
"Excuse me?"
"You've got better veins than I do! They're like little mountains!" He waved along, and left Uryuu standing by my desk. Welp. It didn't really look like I had much of a choice.
I led Uryuu to an exam room where I sat down and rested my arm on the wide arm of the chair. He sat on a stool across from me after washing his hands and gathering his supplies.
"Tie the tourniquet tight, especially if the patient has deep, rolling veins. I don't, so I'll do it just tight enough for tension." I skillfully tied the tourniquet around my own arm. Hey, I'd had to practice somehow, right? I offered the limb to him, mark facing upward.
"Now, feel for a vein."
It didn't even take a second. Uryuu reached out to place two fingers on the crook of my elbow, and it happened. I felt a tingle on my wrist, and the sweet, tiny, beautifully written letter 'I' on my wrist faded to nothing. I didn't know what to do. I sat there, frozen, until my brain acted for me. I reached out for his left wrist and turned it, peeling his glove back.
There had been a 'K' there a few seconds ago, I swear.
We just stare at each other in awe and fear, trying to wrap our heads around the implications of what just happened.
"...Should I.. still insert the needle?"
