Spirit of Vengeance
Summary: Kurosaki Ichigo wanted a chance to rejoin the spirit world, and most importantly, get back into the action. A meeting with the mysterious soul leaves Ichigo with a decision to make; while Ichigo may or may not became a Soul Reaper again, he can most certainly become a spirit….of vengeance, that is. Bleach/Ghost Rider Crossover
Prologue
One Moment of Weakness
"Ginjo….."
Ichigo's world is crashing down before his eyes and there isn't a damn thing he can do about it. He's lost everything. The fight, the town, even his friends and family are beyond his reach. Even though he could see them, touch them, they weren't here with him any longer. Betrayals and hidden strikes had robbed him of them.
"….Tsukishima…."
Locked in a false past created by a man Ichigo had quickly learned to hate more than any other, everyone that Ichigo had ever cared about in the land of the living had been turned against him in the defense of men Ichigo had sworn to kill.
Rage as hot as lava and as dangerous as insanity fueled every beat of his heart, Ichigo's world may rest in pieces around his feet, but knife-sharp shards of betrayal had cut into Ichigo and had colored his vision as red as blood. His breath came in short, uncontrolled bursts, while his right hand was clutching his blade so tightly that if Ichigo hadn't been so lost in his own rage he would have noticed that his hand was shaking.
Ginjo took one look at Ichigo and shook his head, an easy smile on his face. "Look, kid, don't get so worked up. It'll be fine, just as long as you don't try anything stupid. Well have this all settled, okay?"
"Ichigo, stop please!" Orihime cried out, trying to pull Ichigo out of his blood rage, but her words fell on deaf ears. "Please calm down! Stop! We can fix this, please! Get a hold of yourself! Tsukishima, do something please!"
"I don't think there is anything we can do, 'hime. He's gone. Whatever has made Ichigo this way…I don't think he can be talked down from this. We may need to restrain him." Tsukishima's pale, flat face contorted as he spoke, his features taking on a whitewashed mockery of a sympathetic glance. Tsukishima raised a hand to comfort Orihime, but the minute it touched her shoulder Ichigo attacked.
With a wordless scream not unlike the insane cry of a psychopath, Ichigo hurled himself at Tsukishima with intent on spilling every single drop of blood in the bastard's body by plunging his sword into his black heart.
As Ichigo approached his target had enough sense to see the look of fear on his enemies face and enjoy it for what it was: Tsukishima realizing that he wasn't going to leave this confrontation alive. Ichigo's murderous glee grew as he closed the distance and he thrust his sword out in anticipation, intent on lunging it deep into Tsukishima's chest.
But so lost in his hate, Ichigo hadn't stopped to consider two things: one; once he threw himself as Tsukishima he wouldn't be able to stop, and two; Tsukishima had Orihime. Both of those facts were driven home when Tsukishima showed his just how much of a coward he was by pulling Orihime between himself and Ichigo.
Ichigo glee at Tsukishima's fear stricken face turned to heart stopping horror as he saw the same look on one of his closest friends. The icy grip of fear was cold enough to dampen the hatred that had taken control of Ichigo and made him realizes his folly, and what it was going to cost him.
Ichigo was going to kill Orihime. He was going to cut right through one of the sweetest girls on the planet. Someone he had relied on, and in turn, had relied on him. A person that he had trusted and shared a host of unbelievable experiences with was going to die because of him. Because he was going to kill her.
In the moment his blade plunged into her, so many memories passed before his gaze. Every amazing adventure; every agonizing fight, hilarious antics and boring afternoons, stupid arguments and awkward silences, they were going to end. Whispering to her in class and running from the meals she invented, it was all going to end. She was going to die and he was never going to speak to her again. Ichigo's world had already shattered, now his heart had too.
Orihime looked down at the sword in her chest, and then raised her head at Ichigo. She opened her mouth to speak but globs of blood came out instead of sound. She began to fall, but Ichigo caught her in his arms. Her chin and neck covered in bright blood.
"I'm so sorry. Orihime, I'm so sorry. I killed you. I killed you." Ichigo buried his face into his friend's hair and cried, even though seconds earlier he hadn't thought he had tears left to shed, even though he could feel her blood leak onto his bone styled armor. "I'm so sorry."
Ichigo wasn't aware of how long he had been apologizing, but eventually he realized that he should be lying on the ground dead, like his friend, or completely ignoring Orihime in favor of worshipping Tsukishima.
For the first time since he had killed his friend, Ichigo raised his head and opened his eyes, to come face to face with Tsukishima only inches away, doing nothing but smirking. One look at his enemy's smirking face had Ichigo plunging back into the depths of homicidal rage.
"I'LL KILL YOU!" Screamed as he ripped his sword from his friend's body still-warm body and rushed at the man who had ruined everything for him.
Ichigo's strikes were savage, the blade of his sword his had entered been stabbed into Tsukishima's chest and stomach so many times all that remained of either was a messy hole of blood and whatever remained of Tsukishima's insides.
Ichigo had abandoned his sword when he began working on his already dead enemy's face. Ichigo had rained blow upon blow on it before sticking both of his thumbs in Tsukishima's eye sockets and blinding him, only finishing his assault after he had torn his victim's jaw away from the rest of his face, leaving the man's tongue to hang limply without anything to support it.
At the end Ichigo was kneeling in front of the corpse, silent except for the animalistic heaving of his chest. So lost in the act of murder that he didn't realized his victim hadn't screamed or fought back.
Soft clapping came from behind him, as did a low, sultry voice. "My, my, my, you sure have an anger problem don't you?"
Ichigo turned to the voice. Olive skin, dark hair, red yes, and curves in all the right places. Dressed casually in boots, jeans, and a leather jacket, yet walking with dark grace; on any other day Ichigo would have thought of her as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, now he just want her to either leave or die.
"Shut the fuck up." Ichigo snarled.
The Dark Haired Woman tutted. "Now, now, that no way to speak to the only person able to help you Ichigo."
"Leave. Now." Ichigo growled.
The Dark Haired Woman made a show of clasping her hands behind her and looking all around, "No, I don't think I will."
"I said LEAVE!" Ichigo screamed as he rose to his feet, ripped his blade from what was left of Tsukishima's chest and hurled it at her, only to scowl as stopped midair, flipped over and floated to her outstretched hand.
Now the Dark Haired Woman appeared annoyed. "Listen you little bitch, listen to what I have to say or I'll find someone with more sense to cut a deal with." The Dark Haired Woman used the sword to point to the right of Ichigo. "Look over there."
Unable to stop himself–whatever power had grabbed the sword now had Ichigo in its clutches and was forcing him to move his head–Ichigo turned to look at whatever the woman had indicated. Ichigo was shocked to see Ginjo standing not too far from him, but not too shocked to keep from lunging at the man to try and beat him to death, unfortunately the Dark Haired Woman held him firmly in her grasp.
As Ichigo struggled to reach Ginjo he began to notice that something was wrong, Ichigo's soon-to-be-third murder victim wasn't moving. At all. Ginjo was frozen mid-stride, sword in his hands and ready to be used. As he Ichigo realized this he thought back to Tsukishima and how he hadn't fought back. He too, must have been motionless.
As soon as Ichigo came to that realization the invisible grip relinquished its hold on his body.
"Understand now, boy?" The Dark Haired Woman sneered as Ichigo turned back to her. "Everything around you –everything– is being held in place. By me."
Ichigo looked to the woman, back to the still form of Ginjo, then to the sky where a solitary bird hung in place. "Why? Why are you doing this?"
The Dark Haired Woman smiled, all her previous anger either gone or hidden somewhere behind her black eyes. "To pounce on the wonderful opportunity you have presented me with. Mostly." The longer she smiled the less human it seemed. "Ichigo, poor, poor, Ichigo. It must be terrible. To have the blood of a woman who loved you coat your hands."
"Shut up."
The woman's smile widened, and she began to walk forward. "Why, Ichigo? You need to hear the truth. And the truth is, you're on the fast track to death, yourself. The bodies of two friend–"
"Tsukishima isn't my friend!"
"No, but how will your friends see it? Chad, Ishida, Tatsuki, your sisters and your father? They'll see two people they loved, murdered in a fit of rage. Three, if you manage to kill Ginjo. And I doubt you currently have to strength to take him."
Ichigo glared at Ginjo before turning a heated look at the Dark Haired Woman. "Let me try. I'll show you how strong I really am."
"And if you do kill him, what about your friends?"
"They'll be fine. With Tsukishima dead, they won't be caught in his mind games anymore."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Ginjo said…" But Ichigo found it hard it hard to finish his sentence. Ginjo had told him that Tsukishima's powers would fade once he was dead, but now Ichigo had to question those words. Ginjo had done nothing but lie and manipulate him from the very beginning. It was possible –even likely– that Ginjo had lied to him about that too. "Urahara–"
The Dark Haired Woman interrupted, "Was caught as well." At the look Ichigo gave her, the woman elaborated, "Tsukishima started with the children and used them to get Tessai and Urahara. Don't believe me? Too bad. You can't afford not to. You're all alone Ichigo, and soon the people you once trusted will be out for your blood."
After hearing of the loss of Urahara,the only person in Karakura Town with the experience and intelligence to reverse the effects of Tsukishima's fullbring– something in Ichigo just gave up. It was too much; it was all just too much. The only time Ichigo have ever been this stressed was when he had stormed Soul Society for Rukia, and even then everything had been too hectic for him to dwell on things. But now, hurt and weak, it all began to hit him.
Ichigo fell to his knees and cradled his head in his hands. He had killed Orihime and had no way to escape from –never mind save– his friends. What was he going to do?
"Make a deal."
Ichigo look up, the woman was standing over him now, her black eyes seemed to glow a fiery crimson, and her smile was wide in glee. "What?"
"I can make you a deal Ichigo. A good one, I would think. It will save your friend and if you play your cards right, it will save all of them."
"Explain."
The Dark Haired Woman nodded, she knew a sale when she saw one. "I can turn back the clock, give you a week, and all the tools you'd need to do the job."
Ichigo's eyes narrowed and he rose. "That's impossible. Don't play with me."
"Really? Look behind you."
Looking warily at the woman before turning around Ichigo gasped.
There, standing together were Tsukishima and Orihime. One looking at once smug and reassuring, while the other looked nervous and worried. The image was so powerful, so unreal that Ichigo took an involuntary step backward at the sight of them.
Then, they began to move backwards. In reverse they spoke, they moved, and left the roof. The sky lightened to mid morning before getting dull and then darker as second-long hours flew by until the moon hung big and full in the sky and everything was black.
"Is… is she alive?"
"Who, Orihime? She is now. Later? No. But it doesn't have to be that way. I can change that, I can open doors for you that you would have never known existed. Show you things beyond your wildest dreams. Beings and places so far beyond that old peon Yamamotto, so much greater than that meager piece of existence called Soul Society. I can give you power, Ichigo. True unadulterated power….for a price."
"What do you want?"
The woman looked hungry now, a maniacal gleam shown in her softly glowing eyes. "I want an agent, I want a solider, a right hand, and a herald. But most of all Kurosaki Ichigo, I want your soul. Forever and ever, until I have decided you fulfilled your part of our bargain and release you from your duties."
"Who are you?"
"I have many names. You know some of them."
It should have been an easy decision. Decline what could only be a deal with the devil, a deal that was sure to turn sour at first notice, and deal with the path he chose and the failures he had made. Nothing good could come out of this, and again he would be thrown headfirst into a world of pain and suffering he had only just barely escaped from.
But Ichigo hadn't truly escaped, had he? The world he had clawed his way out of had dragged him back in, and everyone he loved was at stake.
It should have been an easy choice, and in the end it was, if there had ever been any to begin with. Maybe that was why the Dark Haired Woman had came. Maybe she had known Ichigo would have no choice. Maybe she had known he was too weak to make the right choice. Maybe in the end, it didn't matter.
A moment of weakness had made all the difference.
"I accept."
[-]
The moment he spoke, there was pain. Heat, burning hotter than any he had ever felt seemed to burst from his heart, causing Ichigo to scream. Flames, dark and hot as a thousand hells, a thousand souls, and a thousand sins rose from his body.
Eyeballs boiled and melted from their sockets, but that did not steal from Ichigo his ability to see, only the sweet dark escape behind his eyelids. He was forced to watch it all and bare witness to the horror and pain of what was happening to him.
Ichigo's skin bubbled and melted. Making sick, wet sound as bubbles popped and blood evaporated from the heat and skin slipped from his bones, smacking the roof as dead meat before being consumed by flames.
Soon, all was burned away but the bones that had once laid beneath Ichigo's skin. Even his mind had burned away in the fire, leaving only a naked screaming mass of flames, bones, and pain.
The Dark Haired Woman watched it all and smiled. In her hand was a rolled up document. Burning at the edges and signed in blood. She had gotten what she wanted. Now it was time for her to complete her part of the deal.
The Dark Haired Woman rose on hand and snapped her fingers.
The world changed.
[-]
In a room overlooking the Kurosaki Family Clinic, Kurosaki Ichigo rose from a dream filled with death, blood, and an endlessly burning fire. He scanned the darkened room before him, found everything to be the way it should be, and let loose a sigh of relief. It was short-lived.
Flames shot from a table in the corner of his room, but as Ichigo scrambled from his bed in an attempt to do something about it, sharp, burning pain laced down his arm, before moving across his chest to travel down the opposite arm.
Pulling up his sleeves before eventually tearing off her shirt in an effort to find what was causing his pain, Ichigo's eyes traced the path of two ghosting across his upper body before finding a spot it deemed fit and settling down, all the while looking like nothing more than a tattoo. It was one name.
Sosuke Aizen.
As Ichigo read the name a familiar voice whispered in his ear. It whispered as he crossed his room, it whispered as he shifted the ashen remains of his substitute soul reaper badge into a waste bin. It whispered as he changed into proper clothes and left his families' home.
The voice followed him down streets and around corners, past well-known houses, and night owl teens, but it was only after he had stopped in front of a particular apartment building, looked into and brightly lit window and saw a auburn haired girl dancing happily to what might have been the worst music in existence that he answered.
"You have one month to collect," The Dark Haired Woman whispered.
"I know." Ichigo answered.
Chapter 1
Skeleton Hands
Yukio was unaccustomed to feeling fear. Though many would consider him young –perhaps even rightly so– Yukio had seen and done more than most adults. He had lived a life more treacherous and dangerous than most, with not just his life on the line, but his soul as well.
Raised in an unloving household with absentee parents, Yukio had wanted for nothing material, but yearned for a sense of belonging. For people that enjoyed being around him, and cared about his well being beyond the physical. Yukio had yearned for a place to belong and people to care for him. Perhaps he hadn't found what he had wished for in Xcution, but Yukio was sure that –for now, at least– Xcution was as close as he was going to get.
Fear was a child's emotion, and in many ways Yukio was an adult. He had believed that he had given up such things long ago, but on this dark, moonlit night, Yukio learned that he was wrong. Fear was something he was still very much capable of feeling.
It began sometime around midnight. Yukio was slated to watch Karakura Family Clinic until early morning, when he would switch off with Riruka. While on his watch, he had to be on the lookout for any spiritually inclined visitors and to follow Kurosaki if he should leave in the middle of the night. An unlikely event, but not entirely unheard of.
The night was long and boring, only getting slightly more bearable when Kurosaki did leave, thus giving Yukio the chance to stretch his legs. He followed the older teen through twisting streets and abandoned alleys until they had stopped in front of the Inoue girl's housing complex. Wherein Yukio had to listen to what must have been a mumbled declaration of love.
Surprised –Yukio honestly hadn't believed Kurosaki to be interested in girls and had teased Riruka mercilessly about her feelings– and a little disgusted to find out how sappy the whole thing was. Inoue was practically throwing herself a Kurosaki, and this was all he could bring himself to do? Pathetic.
Of course, Kurosaki couldn't complete this homemade teenage romantic movie without sending the girl of his dreams one last burning look before stepping away into the night. Of course, Yukio had followed while really wishing he didn't have to.
That was when the trouble had begun.
Yukio had lost Kurosaki almost immediately after they had left the girl's street. Kurosaki had turned into an alley, but when Yukio had entered it to follow; his quarry had been long gone.
Confused and a little annoyed at being unwittingly shaken off, Yukio disappeared in a green flash of bringer light and scoured the surrounding streets in steps; sure he would catch up with Kurosaki no matter what direction he had chosen to take.
Yukio hadn't been able to find him.
Leaning against the outside wall of a corner store, and wiping off a thin sheen of sweat from his forehead, Yukio cursed quietly into the night, angry at Ichigo for shaking him, himself for losing him, and Riruka for the crap she would inevitably give him.
Deciding then and there he would return to the clinic and wait for Ichigo there, Yukio pushed himself off of the wall and began to make his way when he noticed a teen walking towards him from the corner of his eye. A teen with bright orange hair.
Nearly rolling his eyes at the whole situation –of course Kurosaki would find him the moment Yukio stopped looking– Yukio continued on down the sidewalk. He had already begun to walk when he noticed Kurosaki coming up behind him, and it would look odd for him to just stop and wait for Kurosaki to pass him.
Turning at a street corner, Yukio had every intention of doubling back when Kurosaki had crossed the street and gotten ahead of him, thereby continuing the monotony of his surveillance. He was surprised to hear scuffing behind him, and shot a quick look over his shoulder only to get a glimpse of Kurosaki ambling behind him. Strange.
Taking an alley that would take him in the general direction of the corner store – somewhere Ichigo was sure not to go, he had after all, just left it – Yukio still heard the light scuffing of footsteps. Only now they were louder than before. Yukio looked behind him once more.
Kurosaki was gaining on him.
Now worried that Kurosaki was onto him, and what might happen when he tells Ginjo and Tsukishima, Yukio picked up speed in an effort to put distance between himself and Kurosaki. Telling himself with every step that Kurosaki had no reason to believe that Yukio was anything more than a creepy brat that wandered the town at night.
He had believed those words too, until he felt a burning heat on the back of his neck, and a growling gravelly voice that could not have belonged to Kurosaki say his name.
"Yukio…."
Instantly shifting his weight and spinning into a roundhouse kick that would have caught anyone behind him, Yukio lashed out at nothing. He was alone in the alley. Not even Kurosaki was with him now.
Probing the area around him with his normal and supernatural senses, Yukio couldn't sense anything out of place. But he still felt uneasy, everything looked and sensed normal, but something internal told him otherwise. That alone caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up.
Something had happened; someone had spoken, and in the seconds between Kurosaki had disappeared.
It could have been a hollow, a small part of Yukio reasoned. It could have sensed Yukio and recognized Kurosaki as easy prey, captured him, and was devouring him right now in preparation for a fight with him. Except that made no sense, Yukio had a tight grasp on his spiritual pressure, and had buried it deep into himself. The hollow wouldn't have known him to be anything other than normal, and would have simply killed Kurosaki in plain view before moving on to Yukio, all the while believing itself to be invisible to them. Besides, Yukio would have sensed a hollow coming a mile away.
Pulling out his phone, Yukio began to call Ginjo, the older male would want to know what had happened to his soon-to-be ace-in-the-hole. Yukio didn't look forward to the discussion, but he had little choice at this point. Something was happening.
He never finished dialing.
Yukio felt the bone chilling cold of something metallic leash itself tightly around his neck with enough force to steal his breath away. The biting cold turning skin-melting hot as it seared through the skin of Yukio's neck. Blood escaped through these wounds only to be boiled away by the heat.
His phone dropped and forgotten, Yukio's hands flew to his throat, clutching and grabbing at the metal that was burning through it. His hands were soon shredded and burned for his efforts; the jagged monstrosity that was attacking him was not to be denied its prey. His legs kick out; trying to generate movement that would allow him to slip free, but it was useless. He had been caught.
This was how Yukio was going to die. As alone and in the dark as he'd been in life, killed by an unknown adversary not through the use of hanging or beheading, but by some unholy combination of the two.
Yukio was as close to death as he'd ever been when the burning ceased and he fell bodily to the ground, cracking his head on the pavement, and allowing the first drops of blood to wet the ground. Shoes landed right in front of his field of vision and Yukio groaned pathetically when his assailant spoke.
"Hello…Yukio."
Yukio attempted to turn his head enough to see the man who had done such merciless damage to him, but all he could manage was a gurgled scream of pain as his neck protested.
"I can't believe I never noticed. All this time…you…they planned it. All of it. You must have planned all of it." Growing more and more horrified at the obviously deranged man's words, Yukio felt any hope for his continued survival wither and die. He could only watch and listen as the man reached down for the phone and attempt to cry out in terror at what he saw.
A hand. Covered in flames and made entirely of bone it plucked Yukio's discarded phone and lifted it out of his view.
Yukio didn't have much time to analyze what he had seen, for his side was consumed by blinding pain as he was kicked over, and Yukio was sure he had passed out from movement of his neck rolling with his body.
When he came too, Yukio was lying face up, staring at the rusted remains of a fire escape as the man with the skeleton hands still spoke and searched Yukio's pockets for something.
"…It was probably a game to you, wasn't it? I know how much you like games. How much you enjoy playing with lives. Maybe it's about time someone decided to play with yours." From Yukio's pockets he withdrew his game console. The focus of Yukio's strongest fullbring, and they only thing remotely able to save him. He waved the handheld console and his burning, bone hand in front of Yukio's face
But if the assailant was expecting such an action to cause freight he would be disappointed, Yukio was already gripped in terrible terror.
Yukio had attempt to get a look at the man who was going to kill him, but the sight of his face nearly caused Yukio to die of freight.
A maggot-white, clean skull filled with jagged teeth and encased in dark, lightless flames stood atop shoulders in place of a man's faces. Eyeless sockets stared deep into Yukio's eyes, dark and black even surrounded by flames. It was inhuman, monstrous, and for a moment Yukio believed that he had already died, and that this was death itself coming for him. Then he learned that death was still some ways away.
It stood with a raised hand, the one that wasn't holding Yukio phone and instead clutched what looked like a jagged length of metal chain. Yukio trail the length of metal as best he could with his eyes, and knew it was the very same chain that encircled his neck. The thing pulled down hard on the chain, and Yukio was finally able to let out a proper scream – no matter how soft it was – as he was lifted from the ground and left to hang from several inches above ground.
Yukio groaned and seemed to pass in and out of consciousness for several seconds, and it took what felt like an eternity for him to attempt some semblance of speech.
"Kuh….kuh…" Yukio was consumed with painful, blood spraying coughs. He tried to speak again once they subsided. "…Kuh…" As he spoke the shadows of the night began to grow darker and creep in from the edges of his vision. "…kuh…"
"Kurosaki?" The thing said. "I'm right here, Yukio, I'm right here."
As Yukio's vision began to fail him, and inky blackness took over, he saw the flames burn out, and liquid-like skin pour from the skull's mouth and eye sockets. He saw bright orange hair grow in seconds and light brown eyeball roll out from somewhere in the backs of the skull. He saw Kurosaki Ichigo. The last face he would ever see. The last words he would ever hear.
"I'm right here, Yukio." Kurosaki whispered. "I'm right here."
[-]
Kurosaki Ichigo left that alley less than five minutes after he entered, with nothing left behind him but stray trash and smoke.
[-]
Sometime later Ichigo was back in his room, sitting at his desk and staring at the phone of the boy he had just killed. He felt no guilt. When it came to them, he was beyond guilt, and when it was for the people he cared about, Ichigo was more than ready for the kill. He looked at the electric clock cornered on the table, it read 01:09. Orihime was probably still awake, she was always staying up too late.
Ichigo looked phone Yukio's phone to his own, before picking up the latter and dialing. He waited, one ring, then two, and the call was answered before completing the third. The voice on the other end sounded a bit puzzled, but still bright, chipper, and entirely too awake.
"Ichigo?"
Ichigo actually shed a tear of relief when he heard Orihime's voice, but was able to hold it together enough to answer. "Oh, hey, Orihime."
A bright response. "Hi Ichigo! What are calling for?" The shortest pause tinged with the slightest bit of sternness. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"Probably." The last thing Ichigo could do right now was sleep. "Look, Orihime. I figured you might still be up, and I was wondering…do you…do you want to go to the movies?"
"I-I whu-what? What?"
"With me." Ichigo said, "Don't worry, I'll pay. We can even get crappy theater candy. And slushies."
"I..wuh-what…" A pause and a deep breath. "IchigoyouwanttogotothemovieswithmerightnowalonewithnooneelsenotevenTatsuki?"
It was all said very fast and in a single rushed breath, but Ichigo understood. "Yes. If you want too."
"I…I want to." A soft, embarrassed beat. "What do you want to see?"
"Who cares? They're all terrible."
[-]
Orihime was all at once deliriously happy, kind of confused, not-so kind of worried, very nervous, a little sick from theater candy, and maybe a bit more worried. All those different feeling mixed with all the different kind of treats Ichigo had bought swirled around dangerously at the pit of Orihime's stomach, mixing and bubbling like a witch's cauldron of nastiness.
At the very beginning Orihime had just been happy and nervous, and worried. Not the bad kind of nervousness or worry that she was feeling currently, but the good kind that came from trying something new and different. Not to say that the good kind of nervousness wasn't still there, it was just feeling a bit outnumbered at the moment.
After changing five different times in five minutes –a personal best for Orihime– and doing a rush job on her hair, Orihime had left her apartment determined to not be late for the movies only to be shocked to find Ichigo waiting for her at the sidewalk nearest to the complex. He had been sitting on his bike, an old second-hand Harley Davidson that Ichigo had bought from a member of the band Chad was a part of, wearing the leather jacket everyone had pitched in for when he got his motorcycle license. He had held his helmet in one hand and half-waved at her to come over.
Seeing Ichigo with the bike had surprised her, he didn't ride it often, since Yuzu was sure he would kill himself with it, and seeing Ichigo actually driving it nearly drove her to hysterics. Yuzu had been trying to con Ichigo into promising to sell the bike ever since. The jacket was a nice touch, and made Orihime wonder if Ichigo knew she was the one who came up with the idea in the first place. He looked so handsome in it.
Riding on the back of a motorcycle was a new and fun and…informative experience. Wearing Ichigo's helmet had been amusing, it fully covered her face and made her feel like a space marine. The helmet itself had been spray painted orange and stenciled with the same white '15' Ichigo drew onto and nagged Uryu into sewing onto his shirts. Adorable.
The driving itself had been fun. Orihime hadn't been the slight bit worried, since she had ridden in cars with Ichigo and knew he was an alright driver. Plus, she had gone much faster than any motorcycle could travel during the times Ichigo had carried her while he had still been a soul reaper. Motorcycles also took wide turns, and the constant vibration of the bike made her giggle.
The informative part began when Orihime first sat on the back of the bike and wrapped her arms around Ichigo and ended when they arrived at the theater. Orihime had know before that Ichigo had always been in good shape, and that his body had transformed into something more befitting a Greek god when he became a soul it was good to know that the muscles had lasted. Sure, Orihime had seen Ichigo shirtless before, but it had almost always been in brief flashes as Ichigo changed, or obscured by bandages, blood, or the bright glow of Rukia's or her own healing spells. Never before had Orihime gotten to…grope.
On the ride to the theater Orihime had groped. She had groped, and she had enjoyed every minute of it. Orihime had been thankful for the helmet, to say the least.
Orihime had been too busy to notice, but Ichigo had been pretty quite during the ride, even for him. By the time they were inside the theater and Orihime returned to cloud nine, she been terribly afraid that she had embarrassed both of them.
But Ichigo's face hadn't been red; he just gave her an easy smirk and an inquisitive eyebrow before leading the way to the snack counter. At the counter he had urged Orihime to get whatever she had wanted before buying one of everything else there after she had picked out the treats she had wanted.
They had struggled their way to the viewing hall, handed in their tickets, and tripped and staggered their way into the new, American produced Godzilla movie, where Orihime had insisted they sit in the front row, as that was where the screen would seem the biggest, after all.
All in all, Orihime hadn't had much to say about the movie. It had been alright, she just felt the screenwriters had spent too much time on the military man reuniting with his family, and not enough time on Godzilla smashing monsters and buildings. Though what monster and building smashing that had been shown turned out to be very good.
All throughout the movie, Orihime had noticed that Ichigo had been taking subtle not-so-short glances at her. Every few minutes he would turn to look at her, making Orihime think that Ichigo had been spending more time watching her than the movie, which in turn brought a deep red blush to her face and caused her to pay close attention to the screen for the next few minutes.
But Orihime had soon realized that Ichigo didn't seem to be having as much fun as her. She had noticed that Ichigo's eyes had seemed bright and at first she had mistaken it for excitement – and maybe there was a little excitement in his too – but the more she looked into Ichigo's brown eyes the more queasy she became.
The only time Orihime had ever seen Ichigo look at anyone that way had been the day he lost his spiritual powers. Orihime had only even seen Ichigo look at Rukia that way. The realization brought with it anger that Orihime had aimed at herself, and maybe a little jealousy too.
It was her first alone and so close to being called a date private outing with Ichigo, and Orihime had to go and bring Rukia into it. She knew Ichigo and Rukia had shared something special, and that he still thought about her often, and she had the brilliant idea of bringing the girl to the forefront of her mind during her kind-of date with Ichigo!
Not that Orihime didn't think of Rukia, of course she did. They had been friends, comrades, and had built a bond forged by battles, adventures, and the feelings they had sensed in the other when it came to Kurosaki Ichigo. Orihime had missed Rukia, she still did, in fact, but she also knew that she hadn't felt Rukia's absence nearly as deeply as Ichigo had.
Sometimes, late at night, Orihime wondered if Ichigo would miss her as much as he did Rukia, if Orihime herself were to suddenly go away. Then she would paradoxically angry at Rukia for leaving their lives so suddenly, and happy that her main contestant for Ichigo's affections was gone, and sad that one of her very few close female friends had left.
The look in Ichigo's eyes made her feel a little sad, because it reminded her of goodbyes, and goodbyes are always sad, even under the best of circumstances. It also worried her, and she couldn't stop thinking of what could make Ichigo look at her with such…Orihime couldn't tell what emotion shone in Ichigo's eyes. She hadn't been able to decipher it when Rukia left, and more than a year later she was no closer to understanding it.
As the movie ended and they both stood, stuffing what disturbing little amount of candy they had left in their pockets –had they really eaten that much in such a short time?– and began leaving, Orihime noticed something as she increased her pace to match Ichigo's own.
Ichigo's substitute soul reaper badge was gone.
It was a seemingly small detail, and wouldn't have meant much on anyone else, but Orihime almost stopped in her tracks when she noticed the badge was missing. Orihime doubted that Ichigo noticed, but he had carried that badge everywhere, dangling it from a loop in his pants or stuffed in a back pocket. Ichigo always had it with him.
Orihime had assumed long that Ichigo carried the badge for the same reason she had carried her hairpins –which she had with her now– they were proof of a past that at times seemed so far away that it almost felt like a dream, and holding on to the small mementos they always carried with them reminded them that it was in fact real, and made sure they never forgot it. Ichigo would never want to forget all the adventures they shared in the world of spirits, and Orihime knew he would clutch onto those memories tighter than almost anything else.
Before that moment, Orihime hadn't been sure if she would ask Ichigo about the things that were bothering him. Ichigo could be very private at times, and she wouldn't sure how to pose the question in such a way that wouldn't poke at the problem and sour tonight and any other nights they might have alone together. But she now knew that she would have to pry for Ichigo's sake, and ask him to tell her about what was making him look so…vulnerable? Sad? Guilty?
"Ichigo?" Orihime asked as they stood next to the bike, he paused in the action of throwing his leg over on side and sitting. Ichigo turned to her and noticed that the brightness in his eyes had dimmed significantly, but wasn't completely absent.
"Yeah."
Ichigo had handed Orihime the helmet again, and she fiddled with it nervously as she tried to find the words she wanted to say. Part of Orihime wanted to throw it over her head and play the oblivious card, but a bigger part of her wanted to do what she felt was the right thing. "Are you okay?"
Ichigo went from looking the tiniest bit worried, to looking mildly confused, which for him was the equivalent of a cartoonish lightbulb short circuiting over his head and just as fake. "Sure, Orihime, I'm fine. I might be a piñata by the time I drop you off, but I'm fine."
Orihime stopped playing with the helmet and walk a step closer. "Are you sure?"
Ichigo smiled at her, and a small part of Orihime's heart chipped and broke off.
The smile was wide, but not big, upturned at the corners, but not a smirk; it was a smile meant to be reassuring, and on anyone else it would have, but on Ichigo it just looked painful. It was the smile he plastered on his face when something terrible was happening to him and he chooses to avoid acknowledging it and lie to himself and everyone around him in the hopes that they wouldn't realize something was hurting him.
Orihime had seen that smile before, when she had been kidnapped by Aizen and all of her friends and charged into Hueco Mundo, the hollow home world in an effort to save her. It was the same smile he had given her during his fight with Grimmjow, a fight where he had been hurt and injured, and Orihime knew he had believed he was going to die, and she had believed it too.
It was the same smile he wore the days after Rukia left, where he had put on the face in an effort to fool everyone into thinking he was okay when he bleeding from some wound to the heart. It was during that time Orihime had leaned just how awful that smile was truly was, and just what Ichigo must have been feeling to put it on.
Ichigo smiles were normally small, his lips curved so softly that for most it would be a struggle just to find the smile at all, thereby missing just how much Ichigo changed when he smiled, and how beautiful it made him look. All of Ichigo's expressions were like this, what would have been a face cracking grin on someone else became an easy smirk and the slight widening of his eyes. Ichigo's expressions were small, subtle, and all the more wonderful for it. They completely changed the way he looked, and Orihime always tried her best to see the hidden smiles and frowns.
The smile Ichigo wore now wasn't subtle, wasn't hidden, and transformed Ichigo as well. All of a sudden he looked small, young in a way she had never seen. It was a smile from when Ichigo was a child, from a time Orihime had never met him, and it showed her an Ichigo she had never gotten to know, an Ichigo only glimpsed in faded picture and seen in the stories of others.
The smile of a little boy trying to reassure his mother; that yes, he was okay, and yes, he was big and brave and strong and would protect her and anyone else that would need protecting. It was the smile of an older brother telling his little sisters that everything would be okay and that he would always be there to protect them, it was the promise of a already dead young man to a young woman; saying that he would save her, even though he knew he would not have the strength to.
Orihime wanted to press Ichigo for answers, she really did, but she knew her attempts were doomed to fail. Ichigo never told anyone what was bothering him at times like this, and Rukia, –the only person that had ever been able to get things from him when he was like this– was a world away. There was nothing she could do now but put on her own smile, hop on the back of the bike, and hope that Ichigo would speak to her when he was ready.
Orihime was a bit sad when she handed Ichigo his helmet, no matter what was bothering Ichigo, tonight had come so close to becoming a dream come true, and she was down over the fact that it had to end. But as Ichigo grasped the helmet in his own hands, Orihime began to wonder if maybe she could ask Ichigo out next. She couldn't do it right now, their outing had just ended and she didn't want to come off pushy, but maybe later at school she could ask him, maybe by then Ichigo would be willing to talk about what was bothering him.
"Tonight was fun, Ichigo." Orihime had to strain not to blurt out let's do it again tomorrow and ruin the quick plan she had tossed together in her head. "I'll see you later at school, okay?"
Ichigo had the helmet on by now, and Orihime sensed rather than heard the lie in his voice. "Yeah, I'll be there." Ichigo revved the bike once, then a second time, before turning back to Orihime. "You know, we should do this more often, Orihime. It was fun."
With that, Ichigo began to drive.
Orihime had always known that Ichigo felt just the little bit lonely; it was one of the things that about him that had originally attracted her. Even when surround by laughing friends or the love of his family, a small piece of Ichigo was always somewhere else. Even when he tried his hardest to throw himself into the present, pain had taken something from him and had hidden it deep in the past. Just like her, he held onto bad memories because he couldn't bear to part with them, because the pain experienced in hurtful memories always made them crystal clear, even as all the good ones began to blur and fade.
As Ichigo rode away, Orihime felt them both; the loneness and the sensation of someone becoming nothing but hazy memories, soon to be lost and forgotten.
It made her sad.
[-]
Author's Note
There you go, the prologue and first chapter of a Bleach/Ghost Rider crossover. Why I don't see more of these I'll never know (though, admittedly, I haven't visited this site in a long time.)
Things you might be interested to know:
About Ghost Rider(s): Before numerous retcons almost completely ruined them, Ghost Riders were humans that sold their souls to the devil (later on retconed to Mephistopheles –that is the only Ghost Rider retcon I accept) in exchange for some favor. Usually to save the life of someone the soon-to-be- Rider had loved (or something equally dramatic). They are then forced to further the aims of Mephistopheles, doing everything from hunting souls that escaped hell, to killing angels, corrupting other sentient beings, and of course, generally making the lives of all those around them suck enormously.
The people stupid enough to sign the contract get possessed by the spirit of a demon, and it is that spirit that allows them to transform, though it doesn't seem to have any true overt control of its host, not unlike the spirit of a zanpakuto. In Marvel Cannon, there is at least one Rider in every country in the world.
That is not true in this story, where Ichigo is currently the only Rider.
About the story: The idea of the story came to be less than a week ago as I popped in Ultimate Marvel VS. Capcom 3 and figured that Ichigo would fit into the game quite well. That had me thinking of Bleach and Ghost Rider and here we are.
The point of this story is to try and figure out how Ichigo would scheme to regain his freedom and how people would react to him losing it and his duties as the Ghost Rider. It also allows me to tinge my writing with a bit of skulls and horror, something I've never really done before –as you can probably tell.
I have no real pairing planned for this story, as I'm uncertain how a romantic relasionship would fit into it all. That being said, I thoroughly enjoying writing about Ichigo from Orihime's point of view, and am quite fond of several of the females who seem to be vying for Ichigo attention (Whooo! Rukia!) So you might see the shadow of romance in Ichigo's interactions with girls he is close to.
There will be other Marvel characters in this story, though almost all of them will be non-human. High profile beings like Galactus (always a favorite) to not so liked ones such as Null, the Breaker of Worlds (also known as the Hulk's pissed of angry side. That's right, the Hulk's pissed off angry side.) From the Vishanti, (also known as Agamotto and his Amazing Friends) to a power hungry Thanos (Known professionally as Death's Thirstiest Peon). From the Phoenix Force (thank god it's not Jean Grey) to Wither (the mutant with the worst. Power. Ever. He makes even Rogue hang her head in shame, even with all her non-power related mommy issues tossed into the mix.) And of course, Frank Castle, the Punisher himself (but how would the Punisher's tale unfold in the Bleach Universe?)
And, of course, there will be Bleach characters. That's kind of the point, isn't it?
Later.