Incurable Chapter 1: An Icy Welcome, a bleach fanfic

Incurable

Author's Note: This was one twisted idea. And it used to be even more twisted, but I toned it down to a threeshot so that the chapters in between are 'eliminated'. This is now meant for a 'filler' story; once this is complete, I'll have to start another one. Heck, I might even begin one of the major ideas and turn it into a shorter story just to buy myself more time... o O And on another note; ff was being bitchy. I tried saving document, but they signed me out (after the three days thing) and when I logged back in, the updated parts were gone, all the way from the fourth scene onwards; the part about Ichigo waking up early. And I worked on those parts for two hours straight too -is pissed-

Disclaimer: I do not own anything concerning Bleach. On a side note, chapter titles are copyrighted by Atlus for their awesome game Trauma Center: New Blood.

Warning: Confirmed OOCness from Hitsu (well, he -is- mentally unstable...), character death

"...saka...Kusaka...Kusaka!!"

Tears of heaven poured down upon the pitiful child lying on the pavement, and soaked him to the skin and bones. Stretching out an arm and resting his elbow on the pebbles, he pulled himself closer to the road where the puddles of blood and rain mixed to form one pool altogether. A clenched fist smashed upon the pool, staining itself with the muddy, soiled blood before allowing its own skin to tear. The blood of his own dripped onto the puddle and swam about in the water before residing with the rest of the blood which had belonged to another injured party; the sight of blood had never fazed him this much before, and he blamed the damned ears he was so-called blessed with. Otherwise...

He shook the chain of thoughts out of his mind, reaching out and grabbing the other party's arm instead. Gasps of air ran in and out of his lips like a speed train, while he sucked on the icy rainwater trickling down his face. Fingers within his grasp twitched; his eyes widened, and his grip on the arm tightened. His teeth clenched together to prevent anymore gasps of air; instead, the bitter, painful suction of his nose taking in the rain spread throughout his mouth, filling his tongue with the blood-like taste.

A hand came tapping his lips, stopping him from saying anything of the moment. The figure lying face-up on the road shook his head once, a weak smile dawning upon his features. He gazed at his partner tenderly, caressing his cheek as gently as he could. The child, who nearly escaped unscatched, frowned and bit his lip when he couldn't make out what the other was mouthing; but who was he to say that when he wasn't even sure whether Kusaka was speaking or mouthing? All he knew, and was 100 percent sure about, was that he saw the bloody lips moving without a sound being made, and yet Kusaka acted like nothing had happened when the worst of everything, to him, had happened.

The rain continued to pour mercilessly.

Kusaka's smile began to falter, ends of his lips twitching downwards slightly; emerald orbs narrowed at the sight, stopping the rain of his own storm from pouring. What came at his doorstep was not the smiling, purple-haired adolescent whom he adored and treasured, completely well and uninjured; but a light kiss from the said casualty that left a crimson lip mark on his hand.

Eyes of the same redness rolled to the back of his head, showing only the whites before the heavy eyelids drooped over to cover the frightening sight. The white-haired child brought his hand to his mouth and closed his eyes shut, lowering his head as he allowed the rain to bathe him of the blood.

By the time the ambulance had arrived, they could only save the young child whose tears were mistaken for the water from heaven.

"...saka...Kusaka...Kusaka!!"

But had he truly been saved?

"KUSAKA!!"

Incurable 01

An Icy Welcome

"Well, we're done here for today. Go home safely, 'kay?"

"Ah, hai, arigatou gozaimasu!"

A click of the door handle, a soft thud of the closing door, and a distant footstep down the hallway.

The orange-haired adolescent in his white doctor's coat sighed as he rubbed the back of his head, and stetched his lazy muscles; well, that was the last patient he would be seeing for the day, he should probably get ready to pack up and leave the hospital for the next doctor on shift to show up. Not like anyone would blame him for finishing his rounds earlier than the expected knocking off time; the number of patients had dropped recently, and everyone should be thankful for that, in all honesty, that there were fewer and fewer patients each day. It meant that things were finally returning to normal...

He gave a shrug of his shoulders, getting up from his chair with a squeak. Another sigh, and his hands did all the packing. Before long, a striking bam of the door shocked him out of his wits; he almost cursed aloud for whoever who had given him the greatest shock of his doctor life. An orange eyebrow twitched when he caught sight of the famed blonde, who had certainly given him an impression of how social workers really worked in society, standing at the door, resting against the edge and panting as if she had made it through a marathon.

"Matsumoto Rangiku-san, hah?" he scowled, name rubbing off as if it had been spoken countless of times. "You'd better give me one hell of a good reason why the hell you're here."

"Y-you're...Kurosaki Ichigo-kun, yes?" the blond woman asked frantically, ignoring the question directed at her. "The doctor I heard so much about from my colleagues...the one who earned a degree in psychology just last year?"

"Uh...yeah, why?"

She clapped her hands together and gave a sigh of relief when her shoulders suddenly slumped. "I finally found you..." And without saying anything else, she sped out of the room, leaving the orange-haired teenager by himself in the room. He blinked confusedly, mentally scolding the woman, and resumed his packing. Just as he was willing to forget the matter that had transpired earlier, another piercing thud stunned him out of his position; he nearly tripped with himself when the sound came louder than before.

But what stopped him was not the fact that she looked dead worried, but the fact that in her hands was a handle each, connected to a wheelchair of petite size compared to the other wheelchairs he was used to seeing, and on that wheelchair was but a mere child. A child with hair so white and eyes so green that triggered a scene within his mind; a scene of nothing but snow and ice, with blades of grass sprouting from underneath the chilling soil; hope, a scene of hope. This child was a symbol of hope; it was just a matter of whether or not he acknowledged it.

"Ichigo-kun, it's a pleasure to see you," Matsumoto greeted, lips curling to a wide smile. "Matsumoto Rangiku; I'm sure you already know me." Ichigo took her hand and shook it stiffly. The blond social worker then ran her hand through the tuft of white hair, stroking a few strands of the silky white hair, rubbing them in between two fingers. "This cutie-pie here is Hitsugaya Toushirou-kun. This may be a little unexpected, but from now onwards, I'll be entrusting him to you."

"Entrusting...? Him to me?" It was a first; having had to take care of someone without being informed beforehand. This was unlike having patients seeing him; no appointments were made, no phonecalls, no notices...nothing.

"Yup. I really hope you'll take him in. You see..." she paused, frowning slightly. "The orphanage he was staying at before was burned down one month ago. He doesn't have anywhere else to go, being the only survivor of that fire incident. I was in charge of him for a few years now; but my higher-ups are pressuring me. I can't just take care of Hitsugaya-kun alone and neglect the other children assigned to me, you know...and they deem his case impossible to handle. And besides, with his current condition, we figured you'd be the best person for the job. Onegai, Ichigo-kun; no one has been willing to take him in because of his appearance and condition. If you won't take care of him, we may have to keep him in a boys' home..."

Ichigo's frown deepened as he landed his gaze on the white-haired child before him; things really looked bleak for him, the poor kid. To suddenly ask him to do something like this...sure, of course he'd agree to take care of him but it was a tad bit out of the blue. What exactly was so bad about taking care of a child? It wasn't like he'd be of much trouble to anyone, especially since he had a condition...hang on. She said something about 'deeming his case impossible to handle'. What did she mean by that? That Toushirou was a hopeless case? That his path of life would be the path to a boys' home? He hadn't done anything wrong...at least, that was what he thought. But wouldn't whatever she say hurt the kid? He was sitting right there like nothing was happening, despite being the topic of the conversation...

"Oi, matte yo. Toushirou's down here, you know. Wouldn't whatever you say...hurt his feelings?"

Uneasiness settled in the atmosphere, masked by the thickening silence hung in the air. Blue-grey locked with hazelnut brown; fingers moving back to the handle of the wheelchair, the blonde closed her eyes and released a sigh from its inner realm. The orange-haired doctor waited, staring at the two of them, Toushirou in particular. He narrowed his eyes slightly at the child seemingly dozing off on the wheelchair; something wasn't right. Matsumoto only confirmed his suspicions when she opened her eyes, all seriousness seeping from her features. The deadpan voice was not what he expected from her; and what she said with that tone of voice was even more shocking above it all.

"Hitsugaya-kun can't hear what we're talking about, Ichigo-kun. He...is deaf."

--Incurable01--

An irritated moan left its cage as the medical prodigy rested his elbow on the table, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His orange brows met each other; a firm, burly hand came to the files he was looking through and flipped all of them close. He had no idea the so-called kid he was dealing with...was merely three years younger than he was. He certainly didn't appear that way; his understanding of the human physical build and stature told him that Toushirou was most likely not older than eight, yet...he was already into his thirteenth year of life.

It was most likely his nutritional balance was connected to his growth; an unhealthy lifestyle could eventually lead to something like this, especially since puberty should've had kicked in by then. Just how much was this guy eating? Ichigo saw him barely touch his food during dinner...the meal provided was already made according to the recipe of recommended food for him, personally written by his social worker. Even though he was informed about his patient's exceptionally poor eating habits beforehand, he was still slightly baffled by the lifestyle he was leading.

And it wasn't just that that was bothering him...

He opened his eyes to the dim, white light of his tablelamp, forehead pressed against his palm as if trying to relieve him of his migraine. A click of the door made him turn; even in the darkness, the pure white hair and striking teals had given him the hints he needed. Silence made its presence before it was chased away by the soft wheeling of the wheelchair. The teenager stopped in the corner of the room, facing the window panels and the closed curtains as he allowed his eyes to close, awaiting sleep to arrive.

Ichigo suppressed the sigh at his chest at the sight; Toushirou didn't even bat an eyelid when they looked at each other. It was a sign of uncertainty, a sign of misunderstanding; it was evident that Toushirou was not a very trusting person. Was it safe to assume that this part of his personality developed over the years without him even realising it?

No, of course he hadn't realised it; just like how he hadn't realised that he had forced his vocal chords to go stiff by not muttering even a single word during this period of six years. It wasn't muteness, per se, but it was akin to forcing oneself to isolation from others by keeping his opinions and thoughts to himself. It was even likely that he wasn't thinking much at all. Ichigo could recognise this as the brain subconsciously blocking out all distractions and thoughts that didn't concern the traumatising experience he had; it was unhealthy for anyone who had that condition. Keeping his mind stuck to the events of the incident which landed him in this plight would ultimately drive him to the brink of insanity.

Ichigo was impressed that Toushirou hadn't gone mad yet.

All the other patients with quite similar cases sought treatment from him to relieve them of their suffering in the depths of madness; experience told him that when the patients fall into the arms of chaos and mindlessness, it would be near impossible to retrive them back without doing permanent emotional damage. A tragic experience, through and through, but he was a doctor; a doctor does not shun away from his duties and responsibilities. Protecting his patients' needs were his top and foremost priority as a doctor and psychologist.

Even so, he didn't give up on his patients; he'd deemed himself damned if he dared to even think about ditching them to fend for themselves. And Toushirou was not going to be any exception. He was going to be treated exactly how Ichigo had treated his earlier patients, and hopefully, the blades of grass amongst the snow would grow without fail with that treatment.

He stole a glance at his new patient sleeping peacefully on his wheelchair, noiselessly pulling the curtains away. The moonbeam shone upon the two of them, reflecting especially the young teenager's hair beautifully, suiting the deep ocean blue night sky mood. He ran a finger down the other's cheek, smiling at the sight warmly. His action sunk in, replacing the smile with a slightly open jaw of surprise instead, and moved the finger away. What was he doing? Acting so close... Toushirou was just a patient and nothing more...right?

Whatever it was, it would be best if he kept the initmacy to minimum. After all, he was entrusted the task of taking care of him, and finding a way to untie the knot in his heart, finding the key to unlock the door of his mind, and eventually take things at a slow yet quick pace to get the beat of the cure, not warming up to him this much. Helping him was his priority; but first things first...he had to get Toushirou to talk.

--Incurable01--

Ichigo was an early riser; everyone in his family knew that. He'd get up before the sun even rises and leave the house to report for work just when his dad would awake. The habit had stuck with him since his schooling days; he was well-known in his schools for reaching there before the gates would even open. So on that day, it was no surprise to him that his family wasn't awake just yet, especially since it was four in the morning. However, it was indeed a different story when it came to the child with white hair and green eyes known as Hitsugaya Toushirou, still settling in his wheelchair, still sitting in front of the windows, but already gazing out into the twinkling night skies.

'Toushirou? You're up already? It's only four in the-oh, yeah. I forgot," he mumbled to himself in frustration, slapping himself on the forehead; how the hell could he have forgotten? No, in the first place, why didn't he think about that factor last night? Toushirou was deaf, for crying out loud; did he seriously think he could get Toushirou to respond if he couldn't even hear him?

He sighed loudly, knowing that the other couldn't hear him anyway, and rose from his bed, walking in the direction of the bathroom. The white-haired adolescent was left in the room alone, staring out of the window with seemingly empty eyes. And with those eyes, reflected the street lights that were illuminating the empty pavements and roads, the many lights of the neighbouring apartments, and the diamond-like stars dancing in the skies.

Another source of light, brighter than that of the street lights', caught his eye. Under the flickering glow on the road came a truck; a truck, of which the head was dyed a deep blue shade, and the body, splashed with nameless silver. Said truck stopped before the traffic light, trembling as the engine and gears did their work. The lights suddenly went out, darkening the entire town's atmosphere. Hitsugaya didn't bat an eyelid.

He wheeled himself around, rolling towards the door silently. Occasional bumps into the walls and furniture seemed like nothing to him; he just carried on wheeling himself along the corridor, and down the flight of stairs at an unbelievably fast pace. The wheels slowly turned sideways, the strongly handicapped patient falling off face flat on the carpeted floor while his wheelchair crashed against the furniture, knocking a vase over. From the bathroom, Ichigo dashed out upon hearing the shatter of the porcelain vase and raced to get to the limping teen before the unthinkable should happen.

As Hitsugaya reached out and got a hold of the front door handle, Ichigo's firm grip on his wrist held him back, pulling him to the floor again. Glares were sent at each other, the white-haired patient's being much more effective by sending icy chills down the other's spine. The orange-haired doctor shook his head; the room was spinning uncontrollably all of a sudden...

With a gasp of shock, he released his hold on the white-haired other and fell to the ground, vision clearing up at almost an instant. How that image surfaced in his mind, he hadn't a clue. But it had nothing to do with Toushirou, he was sure of it; it was only then did he realise the look of horror splashed on the other's face, indicating that he didn't know what was wrong or why he had been pushed to the ground like that. And he hadn't a single idea of his jaw being cracked upon being smashed against the floor; all he knew was an itchy warmth trickling down from his nose and mouth, a stinging pain lingering on his face and seemingly clawing at him.

He strained to get up, but his knees gave way far too suddenly. The mortified doctor, who had never seen this much blood for a long time, rushed over to the young patient, carrying his head up to his lap and caressing his face tenderly. To hell with intimacy; Toushirou was in pain, and as a doctor, he had to ease the pain somehow. And the look on Toushirou's face loosened slightly as he stroked it; it was quite a relief for him. But he couldn't relax now.

Carrying the semi-conscious teenager bridal-style, he shook the sudden dizzyness out of his head and gave the front door a strong, powerful kick. He dashed out into the rain, splashing the puddles of muddy water all over the road. The rough cement and rocks drew fine lines along the soles of his feet, sucking the blood out. But he raged on; the hospital wasn't that much further away. Just...a few more streets up ahead...

The blood of his own dripped onto the puddle and swam about in the water before residing with the rest of the blood which had belonged to another injured party; the sight of blood had never fazed him this much before...Eyes of the same redness rolled to the back of his head, showing only the whites before the heavy eyelids drooped over to cover the frightening sight. The white-haired child brought his hand to his mouth and closed his eyes shut, lowering his head as he allowed the rain to bathe him of the blood.

An excruciating pain ripped at his mind; what the hell was going on!? These visions...what were they!?

"Shit!" His face slammed against the cold, cemented road while the weight which his arms bore dissipated into nothingness. Blood streamed down his face from his forehead, staining his vision a deep shade of crimson. But one thing was clear: the tuft of white hair which laid upon the middle of the road was starting to grow dangerously red. "Bloody hell...Toushirou!" Ichigo leapt to his feet and pulled the bloody child to his arms frantically. The pain was brought upon once more, this time worse than the one before it, but he tried to ignore it as he made a run for it.

"...saka...Kusaka...Kusaka!!"

First the visions...and now a voice in his head...had he truly lost it? But he doubted so; a person who was mentally unstable wouldn't claim to be so. On the other hand, he had absolutely no recognition of this voice ringing incessantly in his mind like an alarm blaring in his ears. And he knew of no Kusaka either.

...No, he couldn't stop to think. His top priority was to stop the bleeding once he reached the hospital grounds. The equipment at the hospital would be much more useful than the pint-sized first aid kit he had back home, and at the same time, he could run a thorough check-up on himself to make sure he hadn't gotten any infection. Red ate at his vision; he hadn't much time left on his hands. The hospital was just a few hundreds ahead. Ichigo sprinted, jumped up the flight of stairs and ran past the automatic door.

The white sheets were soon dyed crimson while they soaked the fluid oozing from the injured party's nose and mouth. Hitsugaya was rushed to the OR by the neatly uniformed staff with a doctor who had just finished his rounds offering to run a check-up on the boy to make sure he was alright. The orange-haired strawberry mentally thanked the doctor before looking up at the pale, white ceiling which had suddenly gone a deep shade of red, eyes rolling to the back of his head and blackness biting away at his vision as he fell on the icy tiles.

Hitsugaya Toushirou, age 13. Birthdate unknown; blood type AB; 133 cm, and overly underweight. Nutritional balance is highly unstable; there is a need to provide him with the food listed below in order to help overcome this problem.

Not much is known about the young child; all we know is that he was abandoned by his parents after he was born, and when they did just that, they died on the spot. We have not found out as to how Hitsugaya-san survived living the life of poverty all these years, but there is a connection between him and another unidentified party. It has been known that this unidentified caretaker has passed on after the car accident which took place six years ago.

It has been noted that Hitsugaya-san was sent to an orphanage, and that this unidentified person was taking care of him, well-known around the staff for paying him frequent visits but not leaving his/her name on the visitors' list. We are unable to uncover anything about him/her after the orphanage was burned down. Source of fire is unknown; there was no arson set to the orphanage, but it was still burned down eventually. Matsumoto Rangiku-san, our most famous social worker in our company, has been appointed the task of taking care of him.

However, as time passed by, we noted that Matsumoto-san has been neglecting the other children's needs and solely attending to Hitsugaya-san's. We do not think that it is a bad thing, but it has a negative impact on the other children assigned to her. Therefore, with all sincerity, we hope that you accept the sudden task of taking care of Hitsugaya-san and, at the same time, find the cure to his psychological condition. Hitsugaya-san is a case that is hard to handle, with him being affected by his hearing deficiency since young, and his muteness most likely caused by the traumatic incident that happened to his caretaker six years ago; he is unwilling to open up, nor let anyone but Matsumoto-san interact with him. Our child psychologist expert could do nothing for him.

We now acknowledge you, Kurosaki Ichigo, as the official caretaker of the orphan, Hitsugaya Toushirou, and we hope you would do your best in your venture to save this precious, fragile life.

Thank you.

...What if I can't save that life?