A/N: Quick note, this is planned to be a full on D/s piece with some hardcore BDSM. So don't like, don't read. Ichi is uke (of course) and his semes are going to be Grimmjow/Renji/Hichigo so this is technically a HaremXichigo piece. ;) Enjoy. There will be lots of plot and story, but expect more than a few lemons sprinkled in for good measure. There will be some other pairings as well but I am undecided.

And I'm a glutton for punishment but this gem just wouldn't leave my head.

A side note, Ichigo is going to be somewhat OOC. I'm giving him the same condition that my sons have (so yeah, the quirks are very real). Many times extremely intelligent people fall into the autism spectrum and I'm playing with my first-hand knowledge and also the stresses that someone so young doing so much would be. As a note, if you have questions about the conditions, please feel free to PM me. This is also fantasy, so not every detail is exactly as it is in real life. Some things I've tweaked.

Doctor's Training

Chapter One

Burning Out Slowly

Ichigo Kurosaki was a prodigy. By the age of 23, he was head neurosurgeon at Karakura General. It helped that he received his first degree at the age of 14. His father was a doctor at the same hospital, the head of the pediatrics department. He fit in quite nicely, after all the man was a complete goofball. Of course, being the head of neurosurgery at 23, as well as a widely published doctor, meant a lot of trouble for the young man. Especially considering his own issues that he had to work through on a daily basis, most of which had to do with dealing with patients and families. And today he was sitting in his office experiencing the brunt of it from an irate woman.

"What? Seriously, who the hell is this? I said I wanted the head of your neurosurgery department, that Kurosaki guy, not some kid." she said, looking behind her at the Administrative head of the hospital, Dr. Kisuke Urahara. Said man sighed deeply.

Ichigo rubbed his nose. The woman, he forgot her first name, had brought her daughter into the ER with severe headaches about a month ago, and scans revealed what was labeled an inoperable tumor. Of course, the ER neuro was not one of the best neurosurgeons in the country, and the case was referred directly to him. The young woman, Orhime Inoue, was currently admitted and awaiting determination on what to do. It was annoying; the girl was 19, so the hospital didn't have to work with her nightmare of a mother. But here they sat anyway as if the girl were twelve years old.

"Ms. Inoue, have you done any research about Dr. Kurosaki?" Urahara asked quietly.

She turned and glared at him. "Of course!"

"And in that research did you find a picture of him?" he continued.

She frowned. "I found a Dr. Isshin Kurosaki, and assumed he was a brother to the man I was hoping to find at this desk."

Urahara sighed. "Well, you would be wrong. Dr. Isshin Kurosaki, or as he's called in this hospital, Dr. Isshin, is Dr. Kurosaki's father, not brother."

"Look there is no way I'm letting a child barely older than my daughter open up her head!" she practically screamed.

Ichigo groaned. "How many times do I have to go through this, Kiskuke? For the sake of all that is holy, why can't we publish my biography already so this stops? I give up; I'll do the interview that idiot that keeps calling you wants, if it will get people to stop doubting who I am!"

The woman turned to him with a frown. Kisuke grinned. "Good, good. That will help. The writer is almost done with the biography. I'll schedule the interview with the show tomorrow. But right now, let's alleviate Ms. Inoue's fears, can we?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes and reached down into a familiar drawer and laid out the necessary documents. Every one of his degrees in plastic covers, his driver's license, and his various certificates including his photo was soon laid out in front of the shocked woman.

"Ma'am, if you want your daughter to live, I'll take her in at eight am in the morning and remove the tumor. The chances of success, I deem, are about 10 percent when performed by any other doctor, but I'll take that to 75 percent with me behind the scalpel. The surgery will take approximately fourteen hours, and that is assuming no complications. I started my first rounds in as a neurosurgeon at nineteen, and was appointed head of neurosurgery here at twenty one. My IQ is estimated at 191, give or take, and I can't put a bookshelf together to save my own life, but I can cut into a person's brain with almost a .08 percent miscalculation risk on my part. Now, if we've got that settled, I've got rounds, and need to check in with my dad about a consult on a girl with a pending aneurysm that was sent from Tokyo to here so I could help. Thank you," he said and stood up and left, sighing deeply.

He missed the smirk on his mentor's face and the shocked and disbelieving face of the woman he left. This happened every time. He had finally relented and let that guy do a biography, but it had taken time, and Kisuke had been begging him to start making public appearances. He hated it. He hated being pointed out as the genius, the child prodigy, the kid in the world of grownups. Most of all he hated being in front of people and watched, and he hated crowds. It had been so bad that before he was eight he'd been put into a special school, unable to even make friendships with other students his age. And he truthfully didn't try.

Of course it didn't help that he was also busy with his own issues, trying to deal with his snappish anger. He had the joy of being one of those great smart people that couldn't relate to other humans for crap. Thanks, autism spectrum, for rewiring my brain, he thought for the millionth time. It wasn't uncommon, a lot of the kids at the school he'd gone to had the same social problems he did. But as a result, he hated crowds, hated to be touched on most occasions, but the on other occasions he just wanted someone to squeeze him until he could barely breathe. Today was one of those days he was craving the holds. But his dad and sisters weren't around to satisfy that particular need today. So it made him rather anxious.

Growing up there had been therapy. Good lord, had there been therapy. To add to his problems, he hadn't walked until nearly two, was mildly dyspraxic, and didn't ride a bike until almost fourteen. It was like his brain was on overdrive on the intelligence side and completely disregarded the physical side. His gross motor skills were all over the place growing up, but the one exception to his physical issues was his exact fine motor skills. He couldn't walk without an awkward gate, but he could put together tiny puzzles by the age of six. By eight he was taking apart small appliances and electronics and putting them back together flawlessly, and cut out models that he assembled with precision that shocked everyone that saw him do it. Eight was when he started skipping grades after being given an IQ test on a whim by one of his teachers who noticed his steadily falling grades. To their shock they found his grades were due to him being bored out of his mind and lack of challenging material.

He sighed, nearly tripping for the millionth time on thin air and cussing under his breath, walking into the elevator. He stepped in with a young woman with green tinted hair. She gave him a bright smile. He smiled back, staring at the numbers headed to the floor he was going to.

"Hey!" she said, batting eyelashes at him.

"H-hey," he responded, glancing at her, face turning pink as usual when someone spoke to him casually.

"Are you a doctor here?" she continued, twirling a strand of green around her finger and blinking at him.

"Um, yeah," he answered. When was this dumb elevator going to get to the floor he wanted?

"Oh, you are so young, are you an intern?" she said, moving closer, making Ichigo back away.

"N-no," he said, glancing at her, then back up. One more floor. One more floor.

"Aw, really? What do you do?" she cooed almost in his ear.

"I-I'm head of neurosurgery, but I gotta patient waiting, nice talking to you," he stammered, almost tripping as he couldn't get out of the elevator fast enough, the girl following him. Damn, he thought, she was getting off at the same floor.

He sighed and wound his way around the seventh floor and saw the room he was looking for, 756, and knocked before opening it. In the bed was a very pretty girl with long hair that was a dark strawberry blonde color, and wide gray eyes. He gave her his best "I'm a nice doctor" smile that he practiced so much in front of the mirror and picked up her chart, flipping through it at the information there.

"Um, hello, who are you?" she asked timidly.

"Dr. Kurosaki. Assuming that you sign for the surgery, I'll be taking the tumor out of your head first thing in the morning, and by tomorrow night you'll be having terrible hospital food for dinner," he said looking up and smiling again. God, could his smile get any more fake?

He heard talking and the door opened, and the green haired menace from the elevator was walking in with the girl's mother. Great, more people. It was hard enough dealing with his patients, but family and friends were a nightmare.

"Dr. Kurosaki, you beat me here," the woman said, looking anywhere but his face.

"Hum, yes, I was just telling your daughter that I would be performing the surgery in the morning if she agreed to it," he said nodding at them.

The green haired woman was gaping. She was pretty, red tattoos under her eyes, and a body that most women would die for. "You…you were serious? You're like twenty!"

Ichigo arched a brow. "Actually, I turned twenty three last month, but that doesn't change the fact that I need a decision on the surgery today so I can set up the staff for in the morning. Miss Orhime's surgery would take top priority as one step down from emergency. The mass is large enough to start interfering with her body functions, and if it isn't removed, her estimated time to live is around six to ten months, depending on results of chemotherapy. But my experience with this type of tumor is that it does not respond that well, and chemo is hell."

He received blinking eyes as a response. "You are cold," the busty green haired woman said. "Do you not have any bedside manner?"

Ichigo frowned, looking up in thought. He ran through what he'd said. "Um, I believe I included everything on the checklist," he muttered to himself, mentally clicking off the checklist in his mind. But he'd been interrupted. And he couldn't be sure he'd done it properly.

Orhime frowned. "Checklist?"

"Oh, I didn't mean to say that out loud. My checklist for informing patients of surgery and risks and benefits. And I thought I'd done what I was supposed to…" he said thoughtfully.

There were exchanged looks between the two young women and an arched brow from the elder woman in the room. "I'm not sure I get what you mean, Doctor, why do you have a checklist for that?"

He arched a brow and scowled. "Because if I didn't I wouldn't be nearly as socially acceptable. What I would say and what I do say are different things, but never mind that. I still have to have a choice on the surgery. This day is seriously going far from my way," he muttered the last. "I'll leave the paperwork, my nurse, she's better at the…people thing…so she'll come in and talk to you."

He left and was talking to a short dark haired woman outside who sighed deeply and nodded, rolling her eyes as she walked away from him. She entered the room with a cheery smile.

"So, we have Miss Orhime? How are you today? I see you met Dr. Kurosaki, and he said he perhaps was…ah, well, his normal self, so I am damage control as usual. My name is Arisawa Tatsuki, so I'll take any questions about the procedure. I'll be assisting the doctor during the surgery as well as being his liaison with those in the waiting room during the long procedure," she said, glancing about.

"Yeah, I got a question, what is it with him? He's…so…" the green haired girl said, searching for the word.

Tatsuki sighed. "I really can't go into details on the doctor's issues, but all you need to know is that he does the best he can. I'll say that people are not his forte, but once he is in the operating room, the man is a complete master."

"Nel, just leave the issue," Orhime said from the bed. "I think he was trying, with that whole checklist thing…"

Tatsuki arched a brow. "Ah, something really bothered him if he mentioned his checklists."

Nel frowned. "Bothered him? He looked like nothing bothered him."

"He doesn't mention his checklists unless he thinks he's messed one of them up and has to go over them, so I'm assuming you mentioned something about what he was doing?" she said.

"I said he didn't have much of a bedside manner," she said, glancing at her friend in the bed.

Tatsuki nodded. "Bedside manner checklist, most often brought up by people. God, poor kid. He always has trouble with that one."

Orhime cleared her throat. "What is this checklist, I mean, I don't mean to pry, but he is going to be cutting my skull open tomorrow…"

"See, Dr. Kurosaki doesn't do well with social interactions. So, to cope, he has several checklists of what to do when faced with them. He does everything on his checklist, in the same order, every time. If it is interrupted though, he tends to get flustered and has to rerun the checklist, which means he sometimes ends up repeating things he's already said," she explained. "I'm guessing you interrupted him in the middle?"

Nel and Ms. Inoue nodded. "He was already talking to Orhime when we entered."

Tatsuki smiled, "Let me guess, hello, going to do a surgery and have terrible hospital food by a given time, huh?"

"That's exactly what he said to me before they came in…" Orhime said, frowning.

"It's his script. He says the same thing to every patient. There's more to it, but I'm guessing you threw him off when you entered the room. My guess is that's what triggered his deviation and subsequent anxiety that made him send me in here."

"I guess I don't understand, you're talking like he isn't all there mentally or something, and yet he's a genius doctor?" Ms. Inoue said with a frown.

Tatsuki grinned sheepishly. "I'm sorry this is why I don't talk to patients about him, but I felt for him being so flustered when he left, and I know he just wants to do the surgery and save your daughter's life. I'll put it this way, Dr. Kurosaki's incredible IQ came at a cost, and that cost was social skills."

Orhime nodded. "How much of an IQ does he have anyway?" she asked, suddenly very curious.

"I believe when he was tested for confirmation last year, it was around 191, but he's very hard to test because of his particulars, and it may be higher," Tatsuki said thoughtfully. "But I guess I really am not going into anything you can't find out on your own. Dr. Kurosaki had a biography done on his life so far, and he's going to do a live interview next week to talk about it. He's really a fascinating person, I've known him most my life."

Nel snorted. "Isn't that a little conceited, doing a biography at his age?"

"Not at all, he simply is tired of being misjudged based on his youth. He figured if he put it out in print, every patient that he does surgery on would stop pestering him about how young he was. It was worse when he was doing neurosurgery at eighteen…but it still bothers him to have people refuse to accept his skill."

There was a nod and things shifted to the surgery and papers were signed and everything taken care of. Orhime drifted off, her mother leaving for the night, but Nel opted to stay, staring thoughtfully at the sky outside. The young doctor was on her mind at the moment and she really was curious about it, to say the least. Soon enough sleep found her until the morning sun woke her to the bustle of surgery prep. She headed to the surgery waiting room with Orhime's mother and waited until the nurse from the day before came out with the young doctor.

"Ms. Inoue, everything is ready. Orhime is doing really well, and she's now in process of…of…" he said, frowning and looking at Tatsuki. He was still somewhat anxious when dealing with these people after he messed up with them the day before. "Um, how should I put it?"

Tatsuki sighed, rolling her eyes, "I swear, Ichi…" She smiled. "She'll be put in a thing called a halo that will hold her head still before we go in and open the skull to remove the tumor."

Ichigo nodded. He really didn't want to go off script again like yesterday. He'd been a nervous wreck afterward. "Yes, that's a good way to put it, but because of it, there will be some small wounds around her head where the device is secured. She'll have been numbed completely, so you don't have to worry about any pain from those small things. The surgery will be approximately fourteen hours once I begin, and I won't be able to leave once it has begun, so Tatsuki will bring you updates as necessary. Do you have any other questions?"

Thankfully, there was none. He sighed in relief and went to prepare. Now, here, he was at home. The smells, the scrubs and mask, the tools. Yes, this was where he was completely comfortable. This was the only place he was completely comfortable, as a matter of fact. Here he had no hang ups. Here he didn't have to worry with scripts and checklists and trying not to piss off the wrong people and getting hurt. No, here, he was a king, maybe even a god, not that he'd ever say such a thing even to himself, but those who watched him work thought it. Not many were as gifted as this young man.

For Ichigo, fourteen hours may have been fifteen minutes. He never watched the clock; he only watched what he was doing. It was tedious work, for most people, but he loved it. The small attention to detail, the clamps on the vessels, the buzz of the saw, there was simply nothing about performing surgery he didn't like. He even managed to ignore the fact that he always performed in the theater. Above him, sets of eyes watched his every move and whispered in amazement at the effortless way he worked. Normally he hated to be watched, but this was different. He was so in his zone that the world could have fallen to the abyss and if his patient and he were left alone, he'd never notice. The main reason for the watchers was that they couldn't believe what he could do. Every patient he worked on was a "lost cause" and had been told they were dying. And so far, he'd only lost one patient, and then it had been a matter of them having ingested something before the surgery that had limited their clotting function.

Finally, he closed up and stripped his gloves, and pulled his mask down and let out a shaky sigh. His legs were numb and he had to gather himself to pull out of the zone he'd put himself. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he smiled at Tatsuki. They headed out to the waiting room together to see that the amount of people had increased and he stiffened visibly, getting a pat on the back from his nurse/friend.

"Uh, Orhime is in recovery now, and she'll be able to have visitors within an hour or two, but limit it to fifteen minutes or less for today. It has been a long one, and she'll need her rest. The surgery was successful with minimal complication. The removal of the tumor was a little more difficult than anticipated, but I am sure that there will be little to no permanent damage. She will still need to face some testing to ensure that there are no other problems. Now, uh, if you'll excuse me, I have to head in for the night," he said, bowing slightly.

"But, what if something happens, if you leave, what happens to her if she has something go wrong?" the green haired woman said wringing her hands.

Ichigo hated this so much, and he bit his lip. This was not scripted. "I'm sorry, but I've been in surgery for fourteen hours and I've got to eat and sleep soon. I don't leave the hospital post-surgery of this magnitude for twenty four hours at least, so if something happens, believe me, they'll wake me up."

He turned on his heel and left, and found himself nearly tripping on nothing. He stopped, realigned his limbs and headed off to the elevator to get some food before he fainted. It always hit him hard after surgery, it was almost like a drug, coming down off a high.

"Did he just trip over nothing?" a large man with baby blue hair standing beside Nel said. "He must really be tired," he said, looking down at his sister.

"Grimmjow, shh," she said, frowning as she watched Tatsuki talk to Ms. Inoue. "Why don't you go to the cafeteria and get something to eat, yeah?"

He shrugged. "Sure, you want something?"

Nel shook her head, and he took off, shoving hands into his pockets and heading to the elevator. He was fascinated, though, by the doctor. The guy was younger than him by three years, yet he was the head of neurosurgery. And cute, to boot. Grimmjow grinned. Well, wouldn't it be funny if he tried to snag a doctor for Nel…or himself… He snorted at the thought. He entered the cafeteria and looked up to see a white coat and a bright head of orange hair standing in line at the food counter. He was humming to himself and looking over the cold foods, as it was already ten at night, the hot foods were gone.

He picked out what looked to be a sandwich and studied it for a moment with a scowl, then put it on his tray, and chose a carton of chocolate milk. Grimmjow smirked. Wow, what a kid, he thought, then followed him through and chose a similar meal, with a far more manly drink of a coke. He watched as the doctor picked a seat in the farthest corner of the room and sat down, removing the white doctor's coat. He was wearing simple blue scrubs underneath. He set about then picking apart the sandwich, causing Grimmjow to tilt his head and watch. Soon there were discreet piles, onions, pickles and tomatoes were piled on a napkin which was folded up and set aside. The lettuce and meats were carefully replaced on the bread and topped with the slice of cheese. Then he nodded and closed it up, and Grimmjow swore he glared at the parcel of unwanted toppings. Before he knew it, the bluenette was headed toward the young doctor's table.

Ichigo started when a tray landed on the table next to him. He looked up locking his brown eyes with a tall man with lovely blue eyes. He blinked, swallowing his bite of food. He looked familiar, wasn't he just upstairs with his patient's group? He never really differentiated between "group" members, but the blue hair he recognized.

"Um, yeah, can I help you?" he asked, picking up the milk and sipping through the straw, not taking his eyes off the man in front of him.

"Huh, just thought I'd be friendly and sit with ya. Seem off on ya own," he said, looking at the neatly wrapped bundle with the scraps in it.

Ichigo nodded, taking a bite again. After a moment he looked back to see the blue haired man quite comfortable at a table with a complete stranger. "Um, I'm not much for company; most people tend to steer clear of me."

Grimmjow frowned. "Well, name's Grimmjow by the way, but why would people steer clear of you?"

He shrugged. "Um, I've been told I'm…what was it, caustic. Blunt. I tend to be overly honest and people don't tend to like that too much, I've found."

Grimmjow was really fascinated now with the young doctor. "Ah, well that must be their loss. More honesty would do people good," he said, biting his sandwich, noticing a twitch in the doctor's eyebrow.

"My dad said when they were handing out tact, they must have missed me completely," he said, almost sullenly. He felt the heavy pull of exhaustion on his lids. "It's hard to try to remember people don't like truth most the time. Gets me into a lot of trouble."

The bluenette finished his sandwich and saw the kid's lids lowering and realized he was about to tip forward onto the table. "Hey!"

Ichigo started, nearly kicking the table, blinking. "Sorry, I get exhausted after a long surgery like today. Especially when there are so many factors like the one today. I felt like I needed two more hands in there."

"Don't you have nurses?" Grimmjow asked, frowning. "Or other doctors? I thought long surgeries you guys like traded off or something."

Ichigo smiled, finishing his milk. "Most do, but I…I don't allow anyone in my surgeries. I have to control every aspect otherwise I can't work. I use my nurses to do things like hold clamps, use the sponges, but I do the cutting, sawing, sewing, and all that. I can't afford to let anyone else into the surgery. What I do…no one else really can do."

"Humble aren't we?" Grimmjow asked, leaning back with a cocky grin.

Ichigo frowned and thought it over for a second then nodded. "Ah, I see, you perceive me to sound like I'm bragging and boasting about my skill."

Grimmjow's grin turned to a frown. "What do you mean by that?"

The doctor shook his head. "I'm sorry, I tend to be honest about my skill and that tends to put off others as well. I used to get beat up in school for it a lot. That and my awful coordination. Oh well, I guess I should be glad my hands work perfectly, even if the rest of me doesn't."

Grimmjow smiled slyly. "You really aren't boasting."

Ichigo quirked an eyebrow. "Of course not. Boasting serves no purpose."

Grimmjow nodded, following the orange headed doctor as he dumped his tray, disposing of the package of remaining things from his sandwich. He stumbled against something, or nothing, and fell into Grimmjow.

"Oh, sorry about that. Gets worse the more tired I get," he said, smiling as Grimmjow set him up on his feet again.

"What does?" he asked with a curious stare.

"Dyspraxia, motor condition I have," he said with a shrug. "I'm lucky, most people have it mess with their fine motor skills too, but for me it seems to just affect the gross motor. Used to be worse when I was a kid," he said waving to the man. "Nice talking to you, um, going to sleep for a while."

Grimmjow watched him leave with a curious look, something tickling at the back of his mind. The kid was so in control of everything. He'd seen the type. And from what he'd see, the ragged edges, the look in his eyes, he was burning out pretty quickly. But then, when he was 23 and was head neurosurgeon, his life had to be insane. So what did he do to relax…? He'd talk to Nel about it, and maybe that little nurse that was always around him.