Kari back at it again with the RP drabbles yo o3o
Today I have this bit I wrote for my Psychological Terror Verse with Ash, check out my profile for a link to some background info if you want, but basically it goes on the premise that Shirosaki tried to put Ichigo through hardcore intense training over a period on months to make him stronger (against Ichigo's will) bit it ended up involving a lot of physical and mental abuse like sleep deprivation, starvation, nightmares, degradation, and eventually mind control. It was brutal enough that it almost killed Ichigo, but before that could happen, he was able to break free of the mind control long enough to get help. Now Ichigo is in the process of healing and Shiro is being forced to learn just how much damage he did to his Shinigami during his training.
Ichigo looked longingly at the food laid out before him by the nurses- rice and beef broth and applesauce- it smelled heavenly, but he did not touch it. His hands stayed folded neatly in his lap as stared at it hungrily for a long while before biting his lip and turning away. He didn't have permission to eat right now. He knew Shirosaki wasn't too far away, last Ichigo had seen him, his dad was pulling him out into the hall, to talk about him probably.
That was only a short while ago. They could walk back in at any minute. If his hollow came back and saw signs that he'd eaten without permission… he didn't want to consider the punishment that would incur. So he laid still, hands folded across his lap as he gazed dully out the window, food completely untouched no matter how his stomach growled for it and his mouth watered at the scent.
By the time Isshin and Shirosaki returned, the food was cold. Ichigo's hands were balled into fists, but his self control remained intact. He did not eat.
"Ichigo, aren't you hungry? You didn't eat anything."
His father's question startled him. Turning away from the window, he glanced between his father and his hollow. He needed permission to answer that question. Yet Shirosaki seemed too sullen and angry to notice Ichigo's questioning glances, so he stayed silent, eyes falling to stare at his lap.
His stomach growled once more.
" Ichigo . I can tell you're hungry, why didn't you eat?" Isshin was at his bedside now, looking down at him with worry- it was such an odd thing to see from his father of all people, who he was so used to seeing with ridiculous goofy grins or a brusque seriousness reserved only for life or death matters. Now however his father looked like an actual worried father. Harried and strained, but still kind and almost doting in nature. "Is the food too rich for you to handle right now? It's not upsetting your stomach or anything, is it?"
Again, the young shinigami gave no response, save a quick glance up at Shirosaki for permission that he did not receive.
Catching his glance, his father turned to see what was causing his silence. Glaring at the hollow with narrowed eyes, he moved to stand in front of the hollow, arms crossed over his chest. "Shirosaki, why isn't my son talking to me?"
The hollow glanced up at Isshin waspishly before turning his hard gaze upon Ichigo who immediately seemed to shrink under it. "Why aren't you eating? You're always complaining about being hungry aren't you?"
This time his answer was prompt, for he was expected to answer Shiro's questions right away, even if his answer came out low and hesitant. He could feel it, he did something wrong again, didn't he? "I-I don't have permission to eat…"
Shirosaki rolled his eyes irritably, as if he could not believe he heard something so stupid as that some from his Shinigami's mouth. There was shock upon his father's face, then rage as he seemed to realize just what Ichigo meant by that. Yet before he could act on that rage, the hollow spoke again.
"Tch, yeah, whatever. Go ahead and eat, talk, I don't particularly give a fuck at the moment." Shirosaki waved his hand dismissively and turned away as if he were completely unconcerned though Ichigo feel a sense of satisfaction though the connection he shared with him. He was pleased that his teachings were still in place even without the control.
Eyes widening, he looked between the food and Shiro as if he were expecting the other to change his mind. He could really eat this? The hollow remained with his back towards the teen even as he continued to glance between him and his supposed meal in his disbelief. His father ended his dilemma, pushing the rolling little tray table up closer to him with an imploring look.
Ichigo pressed his lips together, shaking hands reaching for the spoon for his broth. Once in hand, he glanced over at Shiro once more.
Nothing.
Carefully he dipped the spoon into the cold broth, intending to raise it to his mouth, for he could no longer bear the idea of waiting for anymore approval. The broth however, never made it to his mouth.
His hand shook.
The broth spilled.
Fuck.
A wave of sorrow and frustration washed over him as he bit his lip in an attempt not to show his discontent. It was fine. It was fine. He would just try again.
And again.
And again.
Each attempt, his hand shook worse than before, and after each failure, the discontent in his heart swelled even greater. How pathetic.
Fine. No broth. He still had his rice. Unsteady hands moved instead to the chopsticks on the tray, desperately attempting to grasp them even though his hands were shaking so badly at this point he doubted that even if he could hold them, that he would be able to keep hold of the rice. Nonetheless, he tried.
He tried.
He tried.
He tried.
Hunger rose up once more in his concave belly, making itself known with another loud cry, begging for food that would not come. His lips wobbled as he stared down at the food, half tempted to start trying to eat the rice with his fingers just so he could get something in his stomach. No- he would not reduce himself to that. Not with Shirosaki right there in the room with him. There to mock him for his pathetic weakness. For his utter desperation for something as meager as food. For his inability to hold himself together long enough to even eat. What a miserable excuse for a Shinigami. What a fucking embarrassment. He couldn't do that.
He'd rather starve.
Letting the chopsticks fall to the tray once more, Ichigo pressed his lips together tightly, hanging his head in shame as he attempted to hold back the tears of frustration pooling in his eyes. He really was pitiful, wasn't he?
Thanks for reading y'all~ Please review~