:First attempt at this kind of style, sorry if it's kind of shitty. I'm trash for this pairing, but I also acknowledge it's probably not very healthy. Don't bother flaming. I am very weak,,, so this might stay as a oneshot or it might not.:
:No explicit smut or sex scenes, general angst warning. TransIchigo. Completely unedited- vague spellcheck. Sorry for mistakes.:

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You lick suddenly dry lips even as you force yourself forward. You don't bother to knock- just push the door open gently. The murmur of the rest of the hospital is quiet background noise, and it fades even more when you look at him, quiet and small in the white room, perched on his bed- sharp edges and thin wrists, looking like a starving bird though you know he eats and exercises regularly.

He doesn't acknowledge you- he can't, so you close the door and move over, sitting on the bed next to him. He startles, and then a smile spreads over his face, transforming it from wan and hopeless to something beautiful and precious.

"Kisuke?" He chirps, eyes unfocused and staring vaguely in your direction. You smile and take his hand, turning it palm up and dragging fingers over it in the signs you memorized specifically to talk to him. You know only Yuzu did this much- Karin barely learnt and Isshin didn't even try, too scared to face his own son.

You know that his friends didn't either- Chad tries to learn it in his spare time but they're all too afraid to see Ichigo broken and vulnerable when they built him up to be so unshakeable in their minds.

'It's me.' You scrawl over his skin and his smile gets even brighter, if that's possible. It's like staring into a ray of sunshine.

"I'm glad. You didn't come yesterday, Jinta being a troublesome kid again?" He tilts his head, amber eyes so empty even as they express his happiness. Guilt seeps into you- you couldn't help it; he knows you're busy sometimes but you feel like you betray him every time you leave him alone in his empty prison.

A body that failed him- the worst kind of prison.

'He decided to throw paint at Tessai, and got it all over the papers Tessai had been organising. I was up to my neck in forms that had to be refilled so we could get new stock in.'

You pout, even though you know he can't see it, and he snickers.

Isn't it sad that he smiles more now than he ever did when he could hear and see and had his powers?

You know it's wrong. He's desperate for any contact, any presence he feels he can trust, and your heart thuds painfully in your chest. You're disgusting, and you're taking advantage of him; but you've been fascinated and drawn to him for so long you can't help it.

You squeeze his fingers and he squeezes back even as he tells you to pass on how proud he is of Karin for winning the soccer match Yuzu told him about- and to tell them both that it's fine, and he understands they're very busy with school. He doesn't want them feeling guilty.

A bitter laugh spills from your lips. You are not a good man, you have never been a good man, and you have a vindictive streak a mile wide to match your tendency to manipulate. You want them all to feel as guilty as possible, you want them to drown in it. At least you talk to him; at least you try. Ichigo hasn't even heard from Rukia in a year- cowardly girl.

You want them to drown in guilt even as you drown in yours.

He squeezes your hand again. "Kisuke? Is something wrong?"

His eyebrows draw together in worry and he stares anxiously through you, concerned.

You don't deserve this.

'No, just lost in thought.'

Ichigo snorts. "If it was something pervy, hat-n-clogs, I swear..."

'You have such little faith in me, Ichigo! I'm hurt!' You're sure he can feel you shake with laughter, and his smile widens and then softens into something infinitely lovely.

Your heart thuds again. You don't deserve this.

"I love you." He murmurs, and you're already tracing it in return, over and over and over again on his palm because you can't murmur it to him in-between kisses; he wouldn't hear it and it would be pointless. He never shook the habit of blushing, and his cheeks pinken even as he looks pleased and overwhelmed all at once- like he's somehow not deserving of you, instead, which is startling and ridiculous.

He deserves much more than you.

You kiss him, chaste and soft in a way you've never kissed anyone before him- a slew of lovers in and out the door, but none ever captivated you quite like this boy had even before he was broken.

He kisses back, shy in the way only the inexperienced are, and it makes you feel warm that he wants you, of all people.

The little voice of reason tells you it's because you're the only one who pays attention to him, the only one who tries to touch and talk and reassure. You're disgusting.

But you're also desperately selfish, so you continue kissing him until he's flushed a soft pink down his neck and his eyes are bright with something akin to wonder even as he smiles at you, thumb rubbing circles over your knuckles.

You cup his cheek with your other hand and he leans into it the way he leans into every touch- he's so starved of affection it's automatic.

You kiss him again, a little deeper and he grins into it in a heartbreakingly excited manner. He told you once that your kisses gave him butterflies, and you'd told him that was adorable, and he'd huffed at you until you'd kissed his pout away.

"Kisuke." He murmurs into the kiss, eyes closed- and for a moment you can pretend he isn't broken, that when you say his name he'll open his eyes and see you, grin and respond-

But it fades quickly, and you drag his name over his palm in response; he's familiar now with the way your fingers stutter and catch sometimes, when you're feeling raw and guilty, so it's no surprise when he bundles himself into your lap.

You laugh a little raggedly and curl one arm around his waist, burying your face into unruly gold-orange curls; just this side of too long, now. You always keep one hand on his, and he smiles against your neck.

"You know I've forgiven you. It's all been my choices- just because you presented them doesn't mean I'd ever blame you. You've always been there for me." He nuzzles closer. "You still are."

You close your eyes tightly. God, you are disgusting. Disgusting and far too old to be contaminating this precious boy with your presence; but despite all odds he wants you here.

He doesn't really, the little voice returns. He's just desperate.

'I won't go.' You sign, and you feel him smile against your skin.

"I know. Thank you." He mumbles.

'I love you.'

"I love you too."

The conversation turns to kinder things, and it's easy to ignore the self-loathing and just bask in Ichigo's presence. You haven't seen him scowl in so long you've almost forgotten what the discontented expression ever looked like on his face; and realistically you know he's trapped in a forever dark, silent hell, and it's probably tearing him apart- he can't even hide in his inner world, can't hear his zanpakuto spirits at least- they've been ripped from him, and now his soul is shattered at the edges.

But for all that he must be hurting, he's so blissfully happy when you're there that you forget, sometimes.

He's thinner now than he used to be- it's the stress, because the nurses help him around every day, make sure he spends time on the treadmill, and he does katas on his own- you've seen it, how he finds himself a space and doesn't move out of it even as he practices.

Yuzu brings her cooking all the time, and the food here isn't actually that bad- he's just unhappy.

You pick him up and he squeaks adorably- for all that he obliterated Aizen and saved all three worlds, he's still just a teenager, (and you're practically a peadophile) small and lithe with his mother's height and frame rather than his father's. He glares half-heartedly in your general direction even as he leans into you, fingers tangling in your shirt as you carry him outside into the hospital's gardens. The nurses smile as you pass; you're practically a permanent fixture now, and you smile back.

You set him on a bench in the sun, and he seems to unwind and un-tense like a cold-blooded creature; you think briefly to the form the Visored's told you of, lizard-like. You sit next to him and he immediately reaches for you- like a child, almost, and you feel disgusting again even as you pull him close and run a hand up the back of his shirt, because you know he likes the feeling of skin against skin, innocent in his desire for contact. You settle over his spine between his shoulder blades and Ichigo soaks up the sun as he holds your other hand, chattering cheerfully about the nurses and how they always share the latest gossip with him- did you know doctor Jameson is crushing hard on nurse Strescht, and it might even be mutual?- and you reply with amusement. No matter where Ichigo goes, he inspires loyalty and friendship, it seems. Nurse gossip rings are notoriously hard to infiltrate. Ichigo laughs breathlessly at that, and he's beautiful.

The one good thing to come of all this, perhaps, is that the hospital felt so bad they made it easy to arrange top surgery- Ichigo was elated when you told him, and now he's far more open with his hugs (and his shirts- you don't pass up the opportunity to ogle Ichigo when it's given, and Ichigo has found a love for loose, low necked ones made of soft fabric that would never have hidden his binder.)

Ichigo laughs again and every time you look at him you're blown away by just how stunning he is. It was easier to ignore when he was scowling and violent, but now he seems free even as he's grounded, and it hurts.

The sky darkens a bit with impending rain- you've been so wrapped up in him you didn't notice- so you scrawl a message and he laughs gleefully as you scoop him up and dash inside.

You only get a little wet, and if there's rain on Ichigo's face he only laughs more and lets you kiss it away. A nurse fondly tells you both to get a room- you wonder if they would all be so approving and open towards your relationship if they knew the things you had done- and you tell Ichigo and he sticks his tongue out in a random direction. You turn him gently to face her, and she laughs and so does Ichigo.

You twine your fingers with his and lead him back to his room, and he gazes through you with something akin to adoration.

What have you done to him?

You gently pull him into the room and then into a hug, and he squirms as you playfully rub his cheek and neck with your stubble- he yelps and giggles. "Kisuke! Oh my god- you're like a porcupine!" You snicker at that and kiss him into a calm kind of quiet.

'Did you finish the book I brought last week?' You smile into his cheek even as you trace it over his hand.

"Mhmm. I know it must be really hard, finding all these books in Braille for me. I appreciate it."

You don't mention that you pay to have them custom made.

'It's fine. I enjoy seeing you happy.' You smile as his cheeks pinken again, and lead him over to the bed where he sits again; tugging you down next to him with a small smile of his own.

You're so glad Ichigo's an amazingly fast learner. When his eyes and ears started to go- so soon after everything had happened, after he'd lost his powers; too fast, deteriorating with no cure in sight- Isshin had stepped up to the fatherly plate so to speak and had experts tutor Ichigo in Braille and sign language- you had been sequestered in your lab trying desperately to find a way to fix it. Trying to find out what went wrong.

You didn't find anything in time.

Walking into the hospital the first time had nearly broken you. Ichigo looked like a strong breeze would shatter him, and he'd been so surprised when you'd sat down and signed over his palm he'd actually wept, clinging to you and sobbing openly. You held him for hours, and then when you'd apologised for being unable to help, he'd just smiled.

"You came to speak to me. You don't have to apologise for anything, hat-n-clogs."

From hat-n-clogs came Urahara, and then just Kisuke. You'd insisted the change from Kurosaki-kun to Ichigo had just been easier to sign, but he'd just smiled knowingly and you'd let it be.

For all that Ichigo lets himself be happy and calm and young now, he's intelligent and mature, and still a soldier who's been through a war and lost so much, and it shows sometimes in the way he's sitting when you visit him. Tense and ready for an attack from any side. You know he has dreams- flashbacks, and though he could never get proper help (because who would believe a young disabled boy had been fighting and killing since fifteen? Been through a war?) you do your best to talk him down and keep him calm. He's confessed you make him feel much safer, and one time he touches your cane and directly thanks Benihime for helping you look after him. Benihime is stunned into silence for a long time before she responds- warm and maternal (and that's startling in and of itself) that he's very welcome. You pass it on and Ichigo smiles, and you resolve to confront her about the burst of affection she sends towards him.

("What, Kisuke, I'm not allowed to approve of the boy who sacrificed everything to save everyone, and who you obviously adore and who adores you? Fuck off. You didn't even flinch when he touched me. What other lover have you ever trusted enough to let them do that?")

Sometimes Ichigo asks you to come back after dark, when visiting hours are over and the doors are closed and Ichigo is in bed. Even in your gigai you're practically invisible when you want to be, and you sneak in through his window. Often he's sitting up and waiting, and he welcomes you with open arms, pulling you into the bed. He sleeps better when you're there, and you'd do anything for him. If keeping a harsh hold of your desire for him is what is needed to make him happy, so be it.

He's told you before he barely experiences dysphoria anymore- he can't even see his body, so what does it matter?- and it shows in the way he sometimes tugs at your shirt, looking embarrassed but hopeful all at once, wanting you. (It's hard to believe he actually wants you.)

You treat him like he's fine glass, beautiful but fragile, even as you feather kisses over the scars on his chest and over his throat. If the nurses ever see hickeys on his neck they keep quiet, and to your chagrin Ichigo seems to enjoy feeling like he's yours.

You're disgusting, the voice whispers, a constant mantra as he writhes under you, your fingers mapping his body like he's artwork, quiet and soft in the moonlight through the window.

Disgusting.

"I love you." He whispers, and you believe him.

'I love you.' You draw over his skin, and you believe yourself.

He's fascinating to talk to; smart and witty with a quirky kind of humour you appreciate intensely. Despite the difference in age you genuinely enjoy his company, genuinely want to spend time with him for reasons other than the physical attraction. It's startling, at first, when you realise you've fallen for him.

But he kisses you first, and there's no way you could ever reject him. You're good at lying to yourself, but you could never willingly hurt him. He's too precious.

Sometimes he sits with you and you let him map your face with gentle fingers, following the curve of your cheeks, smiling when he brushes your stubble. "I bet you look like a grungy old man." He teases, but the affection on his face neutralises any offense that could be taken from it.

You'd die for him, you realise one day. You'd throw yourself in front of any blade, take any punishment that soul society could ever give him. You want to protect him.

Isshin doesn't approve but he long lost the right to make decisions on behalf of his son. Things are strained between them but you can't bring yourself to care. If Isshin had tried to forbid you from seeing each other you would probably have just bundled Ichigo up and run away with him.

Ichigo settles in your lap like he belongs there- perhaps he does.

You're defiling a child, the voice whispers, but for all that maybe you're defiling him he lost his childhood many years ago.

It takes a while to talk around Isshin, and then the hospital, but soon you're his official carer and he's living with you in the shop. You offer him his own room but he just laughs and curls up in your futon with you, amused.

Tessai learnt sign language as soon as he learned that you were trying to take Ichigo from the hospital- and Ichigo happily accepts tea and conversation from the tall, broad man. They get along well.

One time Jinta slams straight into Ichigo, and they both tumble in a tangle of limbs, Ichigo apologising profusely -because everything is automatically his fault now that he's deaf and blind, and Jinta snaps out a 'watch where you're going!' Before he realises who he just bumped into. Ichigo doesn't hear, but you do, and Jinta quails under the look you give him as you help Ichigo to his feet.

Karin avoids Ichigo whenever she comes around, and you feel a cold kind of amusement when she also avoids your knowing looks and scowls, ashamed and embarrassed at her own behaviour. She doesn't rectify it though.

Renji is the first one to come through the shop on a mission, and you find him standing in one of the doorways, staring at an oblivious Ichigo as he smiles cheerfully and fiddles with clay, the area carefully covered in newspaper to keep everything clean. Renji doesn't say anything, just stares, and you realise that perhaps Ichigo's friends are not used to seeing him so calm and smiling.

You breeze past him, and settle by Ichigo's elbow, and he looks in your direction with a loving smile, chirps a hello, and you kiss him chastely before smiling as well when he leans into you and goes back to his clay. He's making a surprisingly accurate rendition of his hollow mask- horns and all. It's small but nice, and you contemplate firing it and putting it somewhere when he's done.

Renji looks both gobsmacked and sad.

You don't care.

Ichigo might be a good person, but you're not, and you'll hold anger and disappointment and disgust at all of his friends until they fix their mistakes, revel in their well-deserved guilt, even as the voice in your head tells you that you're just an opportunist, using a broken boy to get what you want.

Disgusting.