He stood alone in darkness, in a place that did not exist. He could not feel his body nor see his hands as he tried to wave them over his face. He looked to his feet but had no body to speak of he was just there in an eternal black nothingness. He searched his surroundings for any sign of life or any thing that might indicate where he may be, a task that was far easier said than done. But the darkness was nothing but a waste land, a place void of light or mass, but yet from this darkness came a sound, a sound he didn't expect to hear. A small sob, like that of a child's was making its way across the wide expanse, he looked around in search of the crying infant in a vain attempt to come to its aid. He glanced down again however this time filling the empty space were a pair of feet and a body, however something was different, the body seemed to be smaller and younger than his own, he groped his face and could feel the soft, youthful skin beneath his fingertips, he was a child. The sobbing continued but this time it wasn't alone.

Soon the sounds of hundreds of voices slowly began wailing in pain around him, screaming in agony calling for their mothers. All of them children. He felt uncontrollable torment washing over him as the screams swirled about his being, their pain becoming his, their sobs chocking his own. He could no longer breathe. He was drowning.

Yet amongst all the pain and fear, he became more aware a single voice than the lack of air in his lungs. The voice was not screaming in agony or suffering, it was merely calling a name with a voice no louder than a whisper. He couldn't quite make it out, yet the voice was clearer to him than any of the others. It was that name. What was that name? It felt so familiar to him, like he had heard it before, said it before. He yearned for it! He pleaded for it. If only I can hear the name, he thought, then everything would be O.K... then they wont have to cry any more.

His chocking continued as he tried to keep focused on the whispering voice. What was the name? Then out of the darkness he saw a spark of light which began expending, filling the empty space with light. Soon everything went silent except a small voice that whispered to him, as if whispering into the ear of a lover......'Ichigo... help me'.

Ichigo slowly began to wake, his darkened eyes took a while to adjust to the light and after a while an unfamiliar ceiling came in to focus. He was breathing erratically, his chest heaving under the tightly tucked duvet. He raised his left hand to his forehead and wiped the beads of cold sweat from his brow. What happened? he thought, trying to recall the events that lead him here, only to come up with nothing. He tried to sit up but was halted by a searing pain coming from his chest and right arm, as he lay back down unable to move he glanced to see his chest and arm completely shrouded with bandages. What have I done?

He reached over using his remaining arm and began to carefully unravel the blood soaked dressing from the shoulder down, he winced in pain as the bandages tore away from his flesh. He hadn't managed to reach the top of his wrist before he stopped, horrified and what he saw. His skin had almost been completely ripped away in places revealing the muscle tissue underneath. It was as if dozens of blades had hacked away at his flesh, but that wasn't the worst of it, the skin itself was burnt black and made the blood almost glow beneath its cracked and torn surface.

He could hear sounds coming from outside the room as he steadily replaced the bandages on his arm. Hushed whispers and hurried footsteps where whizzing by with an air of urgency, he tried to sit up again but yet again, he failed. For now at least, he was resigned to the floor.

He slowly looked around the room, careful not to agitate his wounds, (he had long since given up on the idea of removing the bandages around his torso simply for fear of what he might find, one shock is more than enough, he thought). The room was relatively small and plainly furnished with only a small dark wood cabinet in the corner, a single ray of light shone through a small opening in the Fusuma doors to his left, which was blocked now and again by the people passing on the other side. His gaze fell to a pile of clothing neatly folded by his bedside, he realised at once that it was his Hakama, this meant he must be in his spirit form, even though he couldn't remember releasing himself from his body. Just then the doors slid open and a familiar face entered the room wearing a quaint, soft smile.
"Oh" she said pleasantly "I see your awake Kurosaki-kiun"

"Unohana Taicho!" Ichigo said startled, again trying to sit up for the third time only to be defeated by the searing pain in his arm and chest "what are you doing here?"

"Well these are my squad barracks, and you Kurosaki-kun, are my patient" replied the Captain of squad four with a coy smile.
"Wait!... I'm in the Seireitei?"
"Well of course, where else?" she said sounding slightly surprised by his question "now please lie still, I need to replace your bandages"

"What happened here?" he said noticing dozens of medical Shinigami carrying medical equipment hurriedly past the door. "I don't even remember how I got here"
"Er..." she hesitated "there was an incident. But there's no need to worry about that now, all you need to worry about is keeping focused on getting better"

"Rukia!..Where's Rukia? Is she OK?!" he said urgently fighting to get up "I need to fin- argh" his arm gave way to the pain and he fell back to the floor.
"Now isn't the time!" she said sternly, the smile gone from her face "you've been seriously injured and if you want to continue under my care than I order you to rest!". Defeated he lay there as Unohana changed the dressings on his arm, he noticed that she made no attempt to change the bandage that bound his chest would, in fact, she didn't even look at it.
"How long have I been unconscious?" he asked after watching as at the at the burnt, torn flesh on his arm was re-bandaged,
"For about 3 days" she replied, keeping her attention on neatening up the dressing avoiding eye contact.
"If that's that case then why haven't the wounds on my arm started to close?" he asked slightly perplexed,
"To be frank, Kurosaki-kun" she said as if offended by what was to come "I don't know. I am well versed with dealing with blade lacerations and burns, and by now the wound would be well on the road to recovery. However" she sighed "it pains me to say that none of my techniques seem to have taken any effect what so ever. We seem to be dealing with something that is unknown to both Human and Shinigami medicine, that is why I've called for help from a specialist, of sorts, in unusual practices".

These words resonated in Ichigo's mind, 'something that is unknown to both Human and Shinigami medicine' how was that possible? He thought, and who was this specialist? However he didn't have long to speculate.
"ah and here she is" Unohana said the smile returning to her face as Orihime Inoue entered the room.