Darkness was complete – so dense it made the air heavy and muffled his senses. If he were to stand still, he was sure he would suffocate from the sheer weight of the air.
So Uryu Ishida ran. Desperately he ran. Fearfully he ran.
The sounds of his own panicked footfalls and harsh breath filled his ears, even as his eyes focused upon the featureless path before him. The floor and the base of the grey walls were perfectly clear, but every time the brilliant blue of his eyes rose, an overpowering fog overcame his vision. He couldn't breath.
He was rendered blind and winded until he again lowered his gaze to the path before him.
What was he running from?
He didn't know for certain – only that it was horrible and closing in quickly behind him.
This undefined terror was something he had no prayer of even fighting, although he couldn't see it.
He couldn't hear it.
He could only feel it.
The sensation was as acute and intense as what a rabbit must feel when it knows a hawk's talons are about to close in upon its throat and rip its life away.
So, he sprinted through the horror and confusion.
On and on. Did this hallway have no end?
His heart hammered against his ribcage, while sweat streaked down his temples and cheeks. Lungs worked like bellows to keep up with the adrenaline saturating his blood.
The unseen threat grew closer and closer.
The terrified Quincy could almost feel its rank breath on the back of his neck.
Heat pooled deep within his solar plexus, and -
Midnight eyes flew open.
His chest rose and fell in a desperate attempt to catch his frenzied breath. Uryu's face glistened with the persperation from the nightmare, and cool air made him shiver when it touched upon the exposed length of his neck and chest peeking from the "v" formed by his partly unbuttoned pajama top. Ebon hair stuck to his temples and cheeks.
The distressed archer stared up at the blurry ceiling of his room, foggy mind attempting to make sense of what it was seeing.
Slowly, he sat up and drew a lungful of air before rubbing trembling hands over his wet face.
He wanted a shower, a fresh change of clothing, and time to run backwards by about three months.
The younger Ishida had struggled with the initial loneliness resulting in her absence. Her burning kiss had etched itself into his core with a ferocious longing so intense it frightened him. Pulling himself from the memories was torture.
He held his head in his hands and again squeezed his eyes shut.
After a while, his fathers' training had helped him overcome the initial grief and anger. A month ago, he was finally able to concentrate on his school-work again. He had thought maybe, just maybe things could be normal again.
Then the nightmares had started, and the tug he had last felt all those months ago was back again.
"What the hell," he mumbled before throwing his blanket back and swinging his legs over the edge of his bed. Smoothly, a graceful hand slid his glasses onto the bridge of his nose and his dimly lit room came into focus.
The gentle breeze on his face was a relief.
Wait, breeze? He hadn't left a window open. The nights were getting too cool for that.
Unbidden, he glanced at the formerly closed window and tensed instinctively at seeing the man perched there. The fingers of his bow-hand spread and long familiar blue energy gathered in his palm. Upon sensing the repressed reiatsu, however, he relaxed marginally. The partially formed weapon flickered out of existence.
"You do realize that people will talk if they saw you creeping through my bedroom window at, " he glanced at the glowing green letters of his alarm clock, "3 in the morning, don't you?"
A Cheshire grin lit upon the intruder's shadowed face. "Let them talk, I say. They probably have nothing better to do, anyway."
A sigh escaped the young man, just before the bedroom door opened to reveal a glaring Ryuken – silver hair as sleep tousled as his son's, sleekly muscled chest bare, and pale blue sweat pants secured around the slender waist by a deep blue cord. The disheveled appearance did nothing to take the hard steel from his eyes when they landed on the man lounging in his son's open window. "Uryu. What's that shinigami doing here?"
"I have no idea," the younger Ishida turned his eyes to Kisuke, his glare asking the same question of the intruder.
"That's ex-shinigami, thank you," Kisuke shot Ryuken a charming smile. "Now I'm just a humble shopkeeper." He pointed out and easily ignored the dry looks he got. "And I," out came the fan, "am delivering a bit of news."
"…which is?" Uryu prompted, crossing his arms over his chest.
That wicked grin only sharpened. "The Soul Society is sending a Captain and Lieutenant to retrieve a certain someone from across the pond."
"So?" Uryu's father glared, the light from the hallway still framing him from the doorway he still stood within.
"Well," the deceptive shopkeeper drew the word out. "She happens to have a bit of Quincy in her, and quite a connection to your son." Flutter, flutter went the fan.
Uryu lost his breath for a moment, before his eyes widened, and he whispered, "Meg?"
Urahara nodded, then glanced up as Ryuken cleared his throat.
"Thank you, Mr. Urahara." The silvered man ran from fire to ice with unnerving ease. "You may leave, now."
"What?" Uryu spun to face his father, "I'm going."
"Of course you are," his father responded coldly, "but not with the shinigami. This is a Quincy matter."
Kisuke smiled handsomely, and snapped his fan shut. "Excellent! A father-son trip, how sweet." He shifted to his feet. "I'll have my contact meet you at the airport, then." As abruptly as he had appeared, he was gone.
A pair of airline tickets left on the sill and the gentle breeze drifting through the open window where the only two indicators of his ever being there.
The promised sequal to Hollow Hunters begins. To be honest, I don't think I'd mind Kisuke showing up in my window in the middle of the night. ;)
Please, feel free to let me know what you think!