Title: Clock Struck Twelve
Warnings: mild violence, sexual situations, mild language
AN: Have a bit of Halloween humor/horror this week! I will be updating each day until done. Also, I'm assuming Japan doesn't celebrate Halloween the same ways the U.S. does, but for the sake of this story they do.
Theme song: "Mouth" by Bush
Halloween, a day of otherworldly reverence in many human cultures for centuries, is a curious time of devious delights. The tale of origin begins with a word nearly forgotten and often mispronounced: Samhain. The night of All Hallow's Eve was one to be both feared and respected, a night where the bonds of reality could be broken to allow strange and mystical occurrences. People showed their deference to the spirit realm by offering sacrifices of treats, carved gourds, or even slain livestock. It has since become synonymous with costumes, candy, and youthful antics. Most have long since shirked the sacred duty of spiritual appeasement, though some still believe the other side will inevitably revisit this mortal realm to seek their toll of the living at last.
"What a load of crap," grumbles Ichigo as he flings the magazine across the room. "I seriously doubt anyone from Soul Society or Hueco Mundo is about to roam the streets begging for sweets and complaining of a lack of jack o' lanterns anytime soon."
To be fair, it isn't the article's fault he is in such a poor mood. He borrowed the magazine from his sisters as something to distract himself from what has really been bothering him all day. From his first lecture at university to the moment he walked back into his apartment, Ichigo hasn't been able to get past what happened last night. Walking back from a meal at their favorite restaurant, he and Ishida had split from the rest of the group since they live closer to each other now. Ichigo had been thankful for the privacy.
"There's something I've been wanting to ask you, Ishida."
"What is it?" he asked, finishing a text on his phone before looking up at Ichigo. "Want to study tonight?"
"No—I mean, yeah, we can but that's not it."
"What's on your mind, then?"
Sensing a certain level of distraction from his friend, he gets Ishida's attention by dropping a hand to his shoulder to stop him. Alone on a dark residential sidewalk, only the moon illuminates them as they turn to face each other. The familiar weight of blue eyes on him is somehow comforting. Crickets chirp in the deliberate pause Ichigo takes before diving right in.
"I realize that this is sudden, but I've been wanting to tell you that I like you. I'm serious, Ishida. I think you know I've liked you for a while now and I'm pretty sure you feel the same. So, will you go out with me?"
"No, Kurosaki. I won't."
It still stings, no matter how many times he replays the scene. Without a word of explanation, Ishida had coldly turned and walked away from him immediately after delivering his swift answer. It was almost as if he had been expecting the question and had a ready reply waiting to launch. More frustrating than anything is the fact that he didn't deny or confirm liking Ichigo back. How could he leave it like that?
He has to see Ishida again tonight at a Halloween party they already agreed to attend.
The worst part is the only costume he could find on short notice is a cheesy werewolf get-up he borrowed from Keigo. If anyone other than Inoue were throwing the party, Ichigo wouldn't hesitate to refuse the invitation, or at least go as himself instead of some stupid monster. Haven't they seen enough real monsters in their lives already? Instead, here he is wrinkling his nose at the strong smell of plastic and synthetic hair as he pulls on the mask and gloves. Completing the outfit with a shredded shirt, Ichigo calls it good and leaves before he changes his mind.
The first thing he thinks upon entering Inoue's apartment is...she is much more popular than Ichigo thought. Although she moved into a larger place with Tatsuki after high school, the heavily-decorated space is filled with guests dressed in a surprising array of creative designs. Everything from the Mummy to a giant human candy corn is represented in a collection of friends ranging between high school, college, and even a few from Soul Society. Rukia spots him as soon as he slouches inside, clapping a hand to her bobbing witch's hat as she scampers over.
"Wow, Ichigo, nice costume! If not for your reiatsu, I wouldn't have recognized you."
"That's because I'm wearing a mask," he feels compelled to say, despite a weird echo caused by said accessory. "Have you seen Ishida yet?"
"Kurosaki-kun, you came!" chimes Inoue before Rukia can respond. "Help yourself to the Halloween goodies in the kitchen. I made them myself!"
"I helped," Chad pointedly adds, decked out as an elaborate Frankenstein's monster.
"I get these two, but what are you supposed to be, Inoue?"
"I'm Blossom, the Powerpuff Girl. See my pink bow?"
"Oh, I get it," he nods, not getting it at all. "Have you guys seen Ishida?"
"Patio."
"Thanks, Chad. I'll be right back, everyone. He and I have unfinished business."
It comes out more menacing than he intends. Ichigo blames it on the mask. Winding his way through the jubilant crowd of creatures, he crosses the living room to slide open the second floor patio door and step back out into the chill night. For some reason, he figured Ishida would be by himself, but Ichigo sees samurai Tatsuki standing beside him, both leaning over the balcony rails facing the star-studded sky. She turns to greet him as Ichigo slides the door shut behind him.
"Where have I seen that costume before?"
"It's Keigo's."
"Oh, right," she grins. "I helped him pick it out. He was looking for 'something sexy to thrill the ladies' and I said there's nothing sexier than a super-strong wolf-beast bursting out of his clothes."
"It's all I could find last-minute," Ichigo defends through her snickers.
"It works better on you."
"Yeah, yeah. Do you mind giving us a minute? I have something I want to say to Ishida."
At the sound of his name, the man finally turns to glance at Ichigo over his shoulder. He is rocking a handsome and elegant Bela Lugosi as Dracula number complete with fake fangs that breach the seam of his mouth to poke lightly into the lower lip. The high-collared black cape contrasts sharply with the crisp white dress shirt and vest underneath, accented with a white bowtie. The only colors besides his eyes are a gold medallion hanging from a bright red ribbon. Ichigo swallows, marveling at how well it all suits him.
"Sure. It's kinda chilly out here anyway. See you inside, Ishida-kun."
"Candy corn relay race later, Arisawa-san?"
"You're on!"
Ichigo pulls off his mask while she slips inside. He takes a deep breath of fall air and steals Tatsuki's previous place next to Ishida, but now he doesn't want to look at Ichigo anymore. His eyes tilt skyward as he speaks in a sarcastic tone.
"You should leave it on, Kurosaki. The mask is an improvement."
"Yeah? Looks like you picked a better costume, though." Ishida's gaze slides sideways to rest on him at the veiled compliment, so he adds another layer. "Black suits you. I wanted to tell you that when you had to wear a shihakusho back in Seireitei."
Ishida frowns. "What do you want?"
"Why did you turn me down?"
"Too many reasons to list."
"Not the right ones," Ichigo insists, turning his body towards him in emphasis. "Not the most important one. Can you even say it?"
"What? That I don't reciprocate?"
"Do you?"
"It doesn't matter. We're too different, Kurosaki; it would never work between us. Please don't bring it up again."
On that note, he pushes off the railing and strides into the party. Ichigo lets him go. He stares out at nothing for a few minutes, brooding because he can't deny it either. They are probably too different and it might not work, but he still wants to try. The problem is getting Ishida to see it that way. Suddenly, he gets the disturbing notion that if he lets this go tonight, he'll never get another shot.
Bursting into the living room with every intention to track the jerk down and demand they go on at least one real date before calling it quits, Ichigo's determined impetus is quelled by a stranger yelling in the center of a stunned group of guests. Most of these costumes resemble what they are: cheap material stitched to last a night or two at best. The newcomer's garb, however, speaks of excessive use and enigmatic influence. Donned head-to-heel as an archaic, grotesque witch, the shriveled old woman bellows nonsense imbued with a power that makes the hairs on Ichigo's arms stand at attention. A faint green glow emanates from her creepily gesticulating fingers. They splay out to deliver an incorporeal blast that shivers through the terrified crowd, only to dissipate without apparent purpose.
"This curse delivered unto ye,
To be suffered by all who see.
None shall escape cruel fate,
Until it is far too late.
With these solemn words I attest,
Broken only by mortal's best.
A knight and dragon's bitter fight,
Shall darken all hearts this sacred night.
Unless these two should bind,
Intimates in more than mind,
Hell shall rise to lay claim,
Now free to kill and maim!"
With a flourish, the witch cackles and disappears in a puff of purple smoke. Silence smothers the room's occupants in the wake of this phenomenon. Even Rukia seems baffled by the proceedings. As soon as he can sneak over to her side, Ichigo leans down to ask if that might have been kidou, but she shakes her head. Inoue is quick to rally, praising the creative poem and impromptu magic show someone was kind enough to provide.
Eager to shake off the temporary fear of such a ridiculous event, everyone accepts Inoue's excuse and resumes party activities. Ichigo is left with a sense of foreboding that his close group of friends seem to share. Since no one has keeled over yet, he isn't about to panic for no reason. Instead, he does his best to enjoy the party while investigating. Going so far as to try the Halloween snacks and guess what gooey mess is inside a secret box.
Despite the weird tone set by the brief intruder, the soiree goes well. A few hours later, people start to excuse themselves and head home. Ichigo should leave, too. Catch up on the studying he hasn't done all day because it's Friday and he can never seem to study on weekends until Sunday. He shoots one last longing look in Ishida's direction before deciding to leave it alone for now. His brain hurts too much from all this pointless cogitating to keep it up anymore.
The lonely walk home is troubled with a brand new issue. Although he barely nibbled at the questionable products of Inoue and Chad's kitchen adventures, Ichigo starts to feel a wrenching sickness in his stomach, adding to the headache he was already suffering. It tugs and flips and burns in ways he has never experienced before. His skin breaks out in a cold sweat. The path sways wildly below him so that Ichigo must draw to a stop and prop against a building as he breathes harshly.
His cuticles itch. Pulling off the costume glove and bringing a hand up to inspect them, Ichigo's mouth falls open in shock to see black claws pushing out his flat nails. The bones of his hand contort and extend, sending frissons of pain up his arm as he watches his fingers grow like eager weeds. The flesh at his throat stretches and his neck seems to elongate. Next is his spine. It snaps and creaks, sending him collapsing to the concrete as he fights back a scream.
Fear streaks through his feverish mind.
Knees arch and shift to form a different type of joint. His shoes split at the toe to reveal more claws. Just as Ichigo notices his nose jutting away from his eyes, bloody teeth begin rattling onto the ground between hairy, outspread knuckles, to be replaced by something large that hurts enough to make his eyes water. The erratic thud of an overtaxed heart becomes too loud in his pointed ears. His rib cage bends, cracks, and this time Ichigo does scream.
Except it sounds more like an animal's howl than anything human.
"Do we have a theory on that strange woman?" Uryuu asks as soon as the last of the guests leave.
"That was freaky," comments Arisawa-san. "But she seemed harmless and I am way too tired to care anymore. Goodnight, guys."
"Tatsuki-chan, wait," Inoue-san tries, only to have her concern waved off. "I'm worried, Ishida-kun. I didn't book a spooky witch as entertainment!"
"I thought as much."
"Should we call Kurosaki-kun back?"
"No, perhaps we should leave him out of this one. He has enough to think about lately."
"Oh, did something happen? He didn't mention anything..."
"It's nothing serious," Uryuu assures, electing not to mention he is the reason Kurosaki has been more subdued than usual. "I'm sure he'll get over it soon enough. I will patrol tonight and make sure nothing untoward is afoot."
"I'll go with you. Sado-kun lives nearby, too."
"No, I don't think that will be necessary. I have my cell phone if things get serious and I need back-up. Otherwise, please get some rest, Inoue-san. Thank you for a wonderful party."
Flashing a small reassuring smile, Uryuu slips through the front door before she can object to this potentially reckless plan. It really may turn out to be nothing but a Halloween hoax after all. It isn't outside the realm of possibility for someone to have heard the party going on and dropped in for a quick scare, nothing more. The 'magic' used certainly wasn't of Quincy origin, and Rukia seemed confident it wasn't Shinigami work either. Plus, there seems to be no result to the witch's 'spell' thus far.
The longer he mulls it over, the more confident Uryuu feels that there is no danger in the prank. Besides, his focus is slowly being stolen by a fierce thirst as he makes his way through the park near his apartment. Given that he didn't eat or drink anything at the party, he probably just needs some water. Slim as he is, dehydration comes easier to him than most. Or so he tells himself until it gets so bad that his throat seems to crack and peel from dryness.
Weariness creeps into him with startling swiftness. He leans against a park bench and brings a hand to press against his forehead, only to yank it away from the startlingly cool temperature. Taking his pulse for signs of illness, Uryuu's eyes flare to count less than twenty beats per minute. At that pace, he should be in a deep coma! Mouth gaping, his fake fangs fall to the metal bench with twin clacks. Yet, when he shuts his mouth a pair of long teeth imprints on his lip.
Uryuu reaches a finger up to feel one of his canines. He jolts when a pinprick of pain on the pad of his thumb is confirmed by a welling blossom of thick red. The sight of it does something strange to him. The taste as he licks it away does something worse. Uryuu shuts his eyes as a hint of bliss sparkles at the edge of his mind. He wants more of that feeling, more of that taste. Needs it more than anything in the world.
A rustle in the trees ahead snatches his attention. It is only a squirrel bounding through the trimmed grass. Uryuu can hear its tiny little heart pattering like hasty footfalls. Senses sharpening, he can even catch a whiff of the animal's unique scent. Whispers of its proffered tastiness fill him up, urge him to seek the rodent for a quick snack because he is already so thirsty. What is one less squirrel in a park full of the furry critters?
He is about to break into a sprint and nab it when Uryuu registers another presence in the trees. It comes loping from the brush full-tilt towards the squirrel, crossing the wide distance with predatory ease. A great, burly wolf-like thing snarls as its jaws crunch the poor prey into a meal. Realization dispels whatever macabre bloodlust held sway over Uryuu as he recognizes Kurosaki's unmistakable reiatsu emanating from the wolf. Not to mention the coat color is curiously similar to the ginger's messy mop.
"Kurosaki!?" The snout whips in Uryuu's direction, splattered in blood with a puffy grey tail sticking out. It spits out the fibrous tail, lapping the residue away with a curling tongue, and cautiously approaches him, sniffing the air. "Kurosaki, is that you?"
The animal does not answer. It begins to circle Uryuu curiously, watching through golden eyes while slowly closing the distance in a pacing spiral. He stays completely still and tries to appear unthreatening. Who knows if this is actually Kurosaki, much less whether he can understand words or identify him as a friend? The one thing he is sure of is that this giant, muscular beast could easily rip him to shreds if Uryuu makes the wrong move. The sinister glint of sharp claws and canines promises as much.
It inches nearer. Uryuu holds his breath. A lip raises to flash its wickedly dangerous teeth on a low growl. Slowly sinking to sit on the bench, Uryuu tears his gaze from the wolf and exposes his throat in a show of canine submission. The growling stops, replaced with deep whuffs of eager sniffing. Wolf-Kurosaki then sticks his nose invasively close to Uryuu's crotch, crossing a line. He pushes the beast's head away on impulse and tenses when he hears a short snarl.
"No means no, Kurosaki," he snarls right back, bearing his own fangs. Surprisingly, his defiance is answered with a confused whine. "Are you truly as dumb as you look right now? Is there nothing left of Kurosaki in that dense skull?"
A tilted head and blank stare confirm the theory. Even so, Uryuu can't exactly let this pseudo-Kurosaki run free all night devouring rodents and possibly attacking people. Better to lure him somewhere safe, somewhere other than his own apartment in case the wolf decides to destroy everything for frustration of captivity. Kurosaki's flat it is, then. The only question is how to get him to follow. Wolves like to chase things, don't they?
"Okay, Kurosaki, let's go home. You want to go home, don't you?" The wolf glances off towards the trees, clearly disagreeing with that assumption. He doesn't give a single thought to Uryuu when he scoots sideways and starts to walk away. "Come on, you idiot. This way."
No response. The solution is obvious but unpleasant. Before he can rethink this, Uryuu kicks the wolf's flank and takes off running in the general direction of Kurosaki's place. Without looking behind, he can hear the wolf giving chase with a startled bark. Now that he's pissed off, Kurosaki is more likely to follow Uryuu as long as nothing else grabs his interest before they reach their destination. That's assuming he can run faster than a huge wolf-man rather than be tackled and eaten.
A regular runner, Uryuu is not surprised that he can maintain speed for a considerable distance. The scary part is normally he would be panting and sweating with exertion by now, feeling a predictable mix of fatigue and warmth counteracted by a stream of endorphins. That is not what is happening now. Sprinting full-tilt across town with a furious monster in tow, Uryuu may as well be lounging in a comfy chair for all his physiology seems stressed.
Wind whips across his skin but not through his lungs.
Forcing himself to focus on the task instead of dwelling on his worrying condition, he reaches Kurosaki's door in excellent time. Now he just has to get it open before the wolf can pounce. Fortunately, he knows where Kurosaki keeps his spare key; he is definitely the type to lose them on occasion. Uryuu yanks up the door mat, snatches the key taped underneath, and shoves it in the lock. Paws hit him as he twists the handle. Both go sprawling into the apartment in a jumble of flailing appendages. Uryuu doesn't even have time to raise his hands and protect his face. He squeezes his eyes shut in preparation for the attack.
A wet, sloppy tongue slides across his cheek.
The shock fades quickly in favor of thwarting the animal's insistent licks. He just ate a squirrel for goodness' sake! Uryuu shoves the wolf off and pushes to a stand, woozy with relief that he won't be dog food tonight after all. Dodging Kurosaki's continued advances, he closes and locks the door before he can escape. All he has to do is survive the night cooped up with a giant puppy that seems to lack any notion of boundaries. Given Kurosaki's personality, though, it makes sense he would be this kind of werewolf.