AN: This is my first HichixIchi fanfic. It's also one of my first yaoi fanfics, second to one previous one that just's on my Deviantart account, FoxFire315. (It's MattxMello from Death Note, btw.) I love this pairing, but it just doesn't get enough love for my liking. So when this idea sprung into my head, I had to type it. It just felt right. So I started it, and I like it so far. Hichigo won't show up until chapter two, but that's just the way things turned out. In any event, I hope you enjoy… Reviews and critique (not the violent kind, mind you) are welcome. I want to improve.

One more thing and I'll shut up. I really miss the way this looked on Microsot Word. The title... was so much prettier. XD

The meaning will become evident in time. Until then, just read the fanfiction.

DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, own Bleach or any of its characters. If I did, there would be a lot of boy on boy action, more Ishihime love, and Byakuya wouldn't have a stick shoved up his ass. (Okay, make that several sticks.)

THIS IS A YAOI FANFICTION PEOPLE!

Tin Man

It was silent among the towering buildings that reached for the empty sky above. They were so close, so close to reaching that endless sky that sometimes, Ichigo felt that if he stayed too long within his own mind, that the buildings would pierce his sky, leaving him with a broken and shattered world, bits of sky raining down. Before Shiro had made himself at home among the buildings, there was silence that, like the sky, always threatened Ichigo somehow. The orange-haired teen feared that it would swallow him alive. Zangetsu did little to chase away those fears, although he had tried. Then Shiro came along. Shiro always found a way to chase away the silence, be it with violence or crude comments, Shiro always disbanded the silence that Ichigo hated. Shiro also had this habit of breaking buildings just for the heck of it, which, for whatever the reason, oddly reassured Ichigo that his world was secure. (Even with a psychopathic Hollow running amok.) At first he had hated it. It felt like a violation. Like, somehow, Hichigo was nothing more than an intruder in his life. Something to hate, something to be angry at, something to blame… Someone that was, and never would be, welcome. But, in time, when the realization that his world wasn't quite so scary anymore… Things changed.

Things were never silent in his inner world; that was just a fact that Ichigo had accepted long ago when Hichigo had taken residence inside of his head. There were the taunts always, or at the very least a snicker or random comment about nothing in particular. Even when things were… quiet… there was always the sound of Hichigo's silent poking and prodding at everything he held dear. When things were quiet, the air within his world was laced with malicious intent, scorn… something… The air would be so thick that if Ichigo tried, he could probably take it in both hands and run his fingers over it. Ichigo imagined the noise that might make, the way it would feel… The air was so loud and heavy that he felt it was possible. There was always, at least, the air. That was fact. Ichigo knew it. He knew it well. When things were quiet, and only the atmosphere spoke for Hichigo, the Soul Reaper knew not to venture into the 'sanctuary' of his own mind, in fear of being on the receiving end of an assault of some form or fashion, be it from his world, or the upset Hollow. If the air mixed with comments, the malice was aimed towards someone else, making it safe for him to enter his world and 'hold the mood' however he pleased. It was a reassurance. Hichigo probably knew. If he didn't…

…He was just that good.

But suddenly, it had grown silent. It was horrifically silent, with not even the air to whisper things to him, to disband his fear. Hichigo, for the first time in all of Ichigo's knowing of the Hollow, had fallen completely silent.

This frightened him.

Kurosaki perched on the edge of his seat, tuning out the teacher who rambled on about something of little or no importance. It was an upcoming school event, he bet. There had been flyers tacked to every visible surface of the cursed building; it wasn't that hard to figure out. Ichigo didn't care. He wasn't going: There were far more pressing things to attend to. The teen huffed, emotionally pushed to the limits. Absently, he glared out the window, repeatedly tapping his pencil against the desk with a flick of the wrist. His hair was disheveled; his shirt on backwards… and his friends now found themselves sitting a good five feet away, out of the danger zone.

No one could understand what the matter with the teen was. He just sat there, tapping his pencil, his knee jiggling up and down in agitation. No one dared talk to him right now. Keigo had tried to point out that his shirt was, indeed, backwards, only to get bitched at and then punched for no apparent reason. (Then again, when did Ichigo EVER need a reason to punch the moron?) That was today. Similar events had happened to other students who dared approach the ticking time bomb for the past two weeks. Now, there were a ring of desks that were unoccupied, cobwebs threatening to start to gather within their nooks and crannies that students usually occupied. Even Orihime was a little uneasy, constantly glancing up at the orange headed soul reaper in pure concern. It was unlike him. Sure, he had temper issues sometimes, but… nothing like this.

Orohime could see it clearer than anyone else. Her love for the boy made it so…

Ichigo resembled a caged animal, his eyes darting to the window, the sky, and then always returning to his desk, which, apparently, was the most fascinating thing in the room. His agitation, his shaking hands… and the fear that Orihime associated with all of the traits… It bothered her. What bothered her most was the fact that she had no clue as to what it may be. She usually read him so well… but now he was a closed book, and she just couldn't take a glimpse at the boy and understand. He had shut himself off completely…

Keigo sat nursing his cheek, slumping in the desk next to Orihime. He looked up to see how the teacher was fairing, and, upon seeing that her back was turned, sighed. "Psst… Hey, Orihime…"

The girl glanced up, blankly staring at the boy. "Hey… What's Ichigo's problem? You know him better than anyone… What the heck is up with him? He get dumped or something?"

"To be honest, Keigo-kun, I don't know…"

"Orihime, go talk to him or something! Ichigo's gonna kill us soon if we don't do something!!!" Overdramatic as always…

Sighing, Orihime glanced up, frowning. He DID look like he needed cheering up…

…but before that option was even remotely possible, the bell rang, and class was dismissed, leaving Ichigo to be the first to rush out of the classroom, eyes fixed firmly ahead. Orihime was left behind in his dust.

"….." The Strawberry continued to storm down the street, glancing this way and that before sighing. Alone, finally! "Hey. Shiro." No response. "Shiro, what the hell are you doing in there??" Still no response. What in god's name was going on??? Fine, if Shiro was going to give him the silence treatment, then he'd stop checking in on him like he had been for the past two weeks. That Hollow probably just thought it was funny, scaring the living shit out of him. Damn Hollow with its twisted sense of humor… With a 'har-umph', Ichigo continued on his way home, mulling over the silence.

He sat down to dinner, like always, and thought things over. Isshun and his sisters' conversation was tuned out, and he sat there, poking at his food silently.

It's unlike him to be so quiet, he mused. I can't remember the last time he was like this without bloodlust or anything. Huh. Wonder why… Was it something I said? ….Nah, the idiot could care less as to what I say. He'd laugh it off. I hope. Damn, I did say that it'd be better off if he died… Oh, wait, he already hit me over that. That was as far as the Hollow's anger usually went with Ichigo. For other people, that wasn't quite the case. The Soul Reaper poked at his dinner, frowning. Maybe it's just a phase. Ugh. I hope this stops soon… I'm going to go insane. That's ironic. He had a person in his head that wanted to kill things and be rude, and HE was the insane one. Great.

"…-chigo. Ichigo, son?" Ichigo grunted to let him know he'd been heard. "Son, who's the lucky girl???"

"…What?"

"Why, Ichigo, you're in love!!! I can see it in your eyes! Oh, soon you're going to be married, and then I'll be a grandfather! Son, you better not be a deadbeat father, you hear me? MY GRANDCHILDREN DESERVE…!"

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU???? ARE YOU FREAKING INSANE???"

"DON'T YOU DARE MAKE HER CRY, BOY!"

"I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU'RE FREAKING TALKING ABOUT!!!"

Karin sighed softly. "Ugh, not again."

Isshun soon turned the argument into a fight, and as always, Ichigo planted a kick in his face and sent him packing. Now seriously cheesed off, the boy slammed his chopsticks on the table, stood up abruptly (knocking over a chair in the process), and proceeded to storm up the stairs into his sanctuary- his room.

Swearing profusely, Ichigo paced to and fro, cursing his life, his father, his stupid hollow that wouldn't talk, his inner world, and most of all, himself. Why was he so worried? There was no freaking way he loved that Hollow.

Hichigo was violent, and loved Ichigo's pain. He lived to destroy and to cause terror. His whole purpose in life seemed to be to get under Ichigo's skin. There was no way he loved that Hollow. No way.

Even if the Hollow had relented somewhat in his assaults, now sitting by Ichigo like a civilized person and listening to whatever Ichigo had to say, as he did now, he'd never love him. Even if he'd try to help with whatever bothered him, as he did sometimes now, just to make the rain stop. Even if the Hollow would sometimes reach out for him, then pull away, gaze averted, like he sometimes did, Ichigo would NEVER love him… would he?

With a sigh, the teen lay in bed now, staring heavenward. "…Hichigo, you'd better start talking again soon. You're going to make me even more mental than I already am…"

That said, the orange haired teen allowed his eyes to drift shut, frown frozen upon his lips.

I can't believe I'm saying this, Shiro, but I miss you…

And then he slept.

He dreamt that night.

He was in his inner world, standing all by himself, eyes trained at the sky. It was raining heavily, and with a shudder, Ichigo wrapped his arms around himself tighter, trying in vain to trap in heat to his now shivering form.

It was odd, being on the receiving end of this rain. It felt so heavy, and so very cold. The soul reaper looked down at his shaking hands, trying to pull himself together, but… His eyes widened. His hands were white. His arms were white. The sleeves of his uniform were white… Was he in Shiro's body?

He returned his eyes to the sky, obligated to do so by the body that was no longer in his control. His lips moved on their own accord now…

"…If y'want me to die, I'll die. If it helps ya, I'll do it. If it makes ya 'appy, I'll do it…" Only bits and pieces came to him. The hollow's lips moved and no noise came out, then his voice would pierce through the silence, desperate.

With sick horror, Ichigo could only watch as the Hollow lifted his arms now, revealing the wrists to something unseen. "Cut me if ya want. I'll be a good Horse and let ya whip me if yah just take it back, eh?" He… rather, Hichigo… was now on his knees, pleading to a figure that Ichigo just couldn't make out."If ya take back th'awful stuff ya said, an'…" A shadow emerged, blade in hand, and before Ichigo could grasp what happened…

His 'body' crumpled like a rag doll, pain radiating downward.

But what scared him most…

…was when Hichigo started to bleed. The wound was inflicted, and the blood flew fast and furious, unheeding of Ichigo's inner pleading for it to stop. It wasn't just the wound…

…Shiro's body grew still, and the hollow lay there, smiling ear to ear.

Ichigo woke screaming, eyes burning from unshed tears. Imaginary pain coursed through his chest directly over his heart. Gasping for air, the Soul Reaper found himself desperately trying to wipe sweat away, unable to tell what was sweat and what was his own tears. His heart still ached, reminiscent of his dream. It felt so real. The dream felt so very, very real, and so very, very painful… Hastily he yanked his pajama shirt open, glancing down to make sure that the damage was only in his mind, not psychical. Nothing but his sweaty chest met his gaze, but the teen continued to sputter helplessly. Fear for his Hollow gripped him. Was he even all right? He had been awful quiet lately, and...

He and Hichigo needed to talk. Desperately…

…because Ichigo just KNEW that something was so very wrong. It coursed through his veins, and for the first time in Ichigo's life, he knew.

He knew it wasn't the buildings that scared him.

It wasn't the sky looming overhead in his world.

It wasn't even the threat of Hichigo taking over and controlling him permanently…

…It was something new that he just couldn't identify…

…but he knew was there with all of his being...

AN: Well, that's that for that Chapter. I'm still writing this story- I'm already working on Chapter Two... I can't really think of much else. So please Rate/Review so I know where everybody stands, okay?