Part 1!
-Edited-
October 5, 1984.
WW Rehabilitation Camp #337804, Japan.
Ichigo spat out the grime and muck that inadvertently entered his mouth as he was slammed down hard to the ground. The man standing over him was smirking boisterously, holding up his fists in preparation of Ichigo's counter move. He had caught the boy off guard, and had slammed a hard fist into the back of his head, sending him tumbling forward into the mud.
Ichigo growled, agitated to have been attacked unannounced and for no apparent reason. He jumped to his feet and charged the larger man head first, tackling him down to the ground. A crowd began to brew around the fighting pair as he drove his fists down hard into the ugly man's face. Anger was bubbling beneath the surface, and nothing could stop him now that he was in motion.
"Hey! Quit it!" The guards were trampling through the small crowd, their body armor giving them great leverage. Two men in black armor with guns slung around their backs restrained Ichigo, pulling him into a lock and yanking him off the bloodied man below him. Two others tended to the unconscious man as Ichigo was dragged off to be punished.
Ichigo struggled against the guard's grasp on him. He hated to be man-handled, and he knew that whatever punishment they dealt out would be unjust and cruel. It wasn't his fault the fight started. The other man had thrown the first punch. The nineteen-year-old boy was just staring listlessly out through the barbed-wire fence at the silent forest when he was jumped.
"Let me go!" He cried out, snarling and flailing about. The men had a firm grasp under his arms, hindering his general movement. Anger was stirring inside his gut, and it only angered him more to think he was not going to win this.
The guards stripped him down and threw him into the Dungeon, a dark mucky room with no lights or windows and only a bucket to use for a bathroom. They tossed him into the cold dark room and locked the door behind him before he could turn and try to run. He shivered, his naked body reacting to the temperature. The room was specifically made to be cold in order to 'properly' punish the delinquents. But due to the prisoners' increased body heat they had to turn the conditioners to an extremely low temp for it to truly effect the punished.
Ichigo slammed his fist into the metal door with a bark, not caring that he'd most likely broken a finger or two. It'd heal in an hour, as would the gash on the back of his head. The wounds always heal. Be it an hour, or two or three they healed to near perfection. Not a scar marred his flesh, bar the four jagged marks that ran along his shoulder to his hip.
He tenderly touched the scars. They were all he would ever keep in this hell. He lost everything the day he gained these marks. His family, his friends, his home. They were all gone.
Ichigo was taken away from his family nearly a year ago. After being attacked by a large animal-thing he was taken by a team of those bastard guards to this horrid place. At the time, neither he or his family understood why he was being taken away, and were outraged to find out he was to be taken. He had fought tooth and nail to escape the men in black armor, but they tasered him and he was unconscious until he found himself inside of a white van taking him across the country to this camp.
Confused and terrified; he had tried to reason he shouldn't be here. He'd run up to every guard or scientist he saw and plead that it was a mistake. He wasn't one of those. He was just attacked by a...
That had alluded him for a time. What he had seen that night was a monster, a terrible creature that was unfit to walk this earth. And it had scratched him, its long, jagged black claws digging deep into his flesh to create these four scars that would haunt him forever.
A Werewolf... His lips peeled back in disgust. It was confirmed the next full moon. He had been locked away in a solitary cage under the building alongside other cages filled with people. Ichigo had yelled, cried, and begged to be let free. He knew what was to come. The people around him were resigned to what lay ahead, some looking at him with interest, as if they had seen this a hundred times before.
Ichigo feared he'd be in danger with all of these monsters around him. But he hadn't have worried, for when 8 PM came around he too fell and began to transform. Limbs and skin ripping and tearing into something that Ichigo could never accept. Something he'd fear for the rest of his life.
As he adjusted his weight against the cold, hard stone wall he scowled at the memory of waking up to find he had gone on a similar rampage as the rest of the room's occupants. He was a werewolf. Infected by the disease that had swept the Nations in a flurry of fur and fang.
Forever cursed, forever alone.
Ichigo sighed as he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. But it was too hard, for his skin prickled and his nose caught the scent of the bucket in the corner. He groaned and slammed his hand against the wall again.
The camp was more a prison than a rehabilitation center. The dark room he was trapped in was a common punishment in Prison systems, known as the "Hole". The guards outside fondly referred to it as a "Dungeon".
He had only been thrown in this place three times, excluding this time. The first time was when he first arrived and punched out a guard in shock. He hadn't known why he was here, and he had still believed strongly that he wasn't a werewolf. They threw him in here and he puked at the strange smells that invaded his nose.
The second, and third time were both because of fights, much like this time as well. Here in the camp there isn't much to do during recess- a designated time where the werewolves are allowed to roam a confined space outside to keep themselves in shape- other than fight and exercise. He had been, and still is a favorite among the crowd to fight for the fact that out of all of them he's the freak because of his spiky orange hair. Out of a group of WEREWOLVES he's the freak because of his hair. Perfect.
Ichigo snorted, half in spite and half to try and rid of the foul taste of dirt from his mouth. What had he done to deserve this? Of all the things he's done in life, what was it that sent him here? What made him what he is and why?
I'll never know...and that's my downfall.
–
It was a whole week before they let him free from the Dungeon. A whole week of sitting and mulling over the negatives of life while he sat in total silence; waiting for his food to come in through a locked slot in the door just to be a part of some activity.
The guards handed him a fresh pair of clothing- a white T shirt and white pants with no shoes or socks- and led him down the corridor back to his bunk. The prisoners of this camp were kept in cells under the facility with up to four partners. Ichigo had only one cellmate, a quiet, boulder of a man named Yasutora Sado. The man, who Ichigo dubbed "Chad" in an attempt to goad him into talking, was visiting Japan from Mexico when he was attacked. He was the same age as the orange haired man.
Ichigo was left to his devices when he arrived to his cell. The guards moved on down the corridor to attend other business, which suited him fine. He didn't want them hovering over his shoulder.
The cell was small, with a sink and toilet in the corner and two sets of bunk beds at each end of the room. It was lit by a single light bulb that hung from the ceiling, and had no window. It was terrible, but at least Ichigo could be thankful he wasn't claustrophobic like some other frantic inmates.
I swear this place use to be a prison. The structural design is much too similar.
No one ever said it, but Ichigo knew it to be true. The facility was fabricated from a prison that closed down a sum 20 years ago. And as such the mentality of the subjects constructed themselves to be like real prisoners serving sentences due to a crime. Some of the other men were former convicts already, so throwing them into the mix didn't help the society from falling into that system. Add in some werewolf hormones and you have a disaster.
He jumped up onto his bunk and let his sore muscles relax into the rough, yet comfortable mattress. He spotted Chad sitting silently in his corner, brooding over whatever went through his strange mind all day.
"Where were you?" Chad whispered so lowly Ichigo barely heard it, even with his heightened senses.
"Dungeon. Another asshole thought he could take me, so I beat him bloody." He said, theatrically shrugging his shoulders.
"Oh,"
Ichigo left it at that. Trying to speak to Chad was like talking to a wall. It was pointless, so he wasn't discouraged when the large man remained quiet after a total of three minutes.
Settling into the bed and into himself he closed his eyes and sighed silently. Spending time in that horrible room always left him with a tenseness in his muscles that stayed with him for days. His muscles always healed themselves though, and the throb of his aches would subside much quicker than he'd like, but he still liked to pretend he still ached. Because that was normal. A normal person would be sore from sleeping on that cold, hard floor for at least a week, but he would only feel it for a day. But for the next few days he'd force a wince, feign a slight limp and seethe in an unnecessary breath when he climbed out of bed in the morning, trying to simulate a regular man. But he wasn't a regular man anymore. He was a monster, an abomination of God. And no matter what he did to try and imitate normal people he'd still be this...thing.
He tried not to think about it too much. If he kept this kind of depressing thinking up he'd frown himself to death into a grave full of self-pity.
Growing up, Ichigo had always tried to look on the bright side. His father had taught him that if he ever was down that he should think of what he had and how much worse it could be. He always thought about the people who didn't have as much as he, and he'd realize his dark mood was really silly and pointless. Why should he be sad if someone out there had it worse than him? It could always be worse, he'd think, and everything would be better.
But this was different. When he thought of what he had now: Nothing came to mind. He had nothing, no friends, no family, no one, and nothing. He was utterly alone in this hell full of children of the moon. And he was one of them. A child of the moon; a moon he hadn't even seen in a year and a half now.
Nothing brought him out of this dark shell of his. There was nothing to look forward to. No way out. He was trapped, and he could feel the walls around him as if they were merely inches from his body. It felt as if he could place his hands on the stone cage surrounding him, keeping him inside and away from the outside world that he oh so craved to be a part of. There were no comforting thoughts to raise his spirit this time, and there may never be...
With this in mind: He fell asleep.
–
Days pass, and Ichigo didn't find the energy to truly care. Here, days don't matter because everyday is basically the same. He awoke, hung around his cell for awhile in silence, staring at the wall with negative thoughts until they were permitted to eat breakfast and lunch and then outside where he kept himself in shape. There would always be a fight, and he found it entertaining to watch the brutal beatings between men and women. It was sick, but that's all there is here. Sickness.
There were the days someone would be taken off for testing. Ichigo found those days fascinating, for most of the crowd was somber throughout the time the subject was gone. Hopes of actually finding a cure this time around was at a high when someone was taken away. More than half of the population of werewolves, including Ichigo himself, wanted to be free. To be released from this horrible place without any worries of wolfing out on their family and friends is the dream of just about everyone.
They never found a cure, and he feared they never will during his lifetime if at all. The person that was tested on would return rather unconscious or disoriented without any good news following. The somber mood lifts and more fights break out than usual. Sometimes Ichigo would be involved.
Today he noticed there were more vans driving into the facility. At least four have come up to the gates and were permitted in, which meant more captured werewolves were being brought in for testing and torture.
Great, more assholes to fight with.
"Hey! Get away from there!" Ichigo turned and found two guards running towards him, batons held tightly in their hands.
He ignored them. He retains his right to stand wherever the hell he pleases, so as such he linked his fingers through the chain fence and stared into the void of freedom to make that point.
"You hear me?" The guards were now right behind him now, their alcohol-coated breath wafting around Ichigo and making him cringe. "I told you to back away from the fence!"
He ignored the throbbing of his ears. They were yelling right by his head, making it sound like, to his heightened senses, nails scratching against a chalkboard. He winced and glared at the loud guard with amber eyes.
"Could you be quiet? Your screaming makes my head hurt." He said menacingly. Even the guards could smell the fear and weakness if you allow it out, and you couldn't stand down to them no matter what. Even though it was them who always won.
"You son of a-" The guard who yelled pulled up his baton and ignited the electrical cord that ran from one end to another. He swung and smacked Ichigo against the joint of his leg. Hundreds of volts of electricity waded through his system, stunning him when it would have killed a normal man.
"Agh!" Ichigo fell down, clutching at his injured tenant as post-electrocution tremors wadded through his body. "Dammit! That hurts!" He cried.
"It's suppose to you freak!" The guard with the baton yelled, waving the device around in the air.
"You bastard..." He seethed, feeling the pain numb over enough for him to stand and fight. He could take just these two guards down, especially if he caused a riot, an easy task to do when part of the crowd.
In one swift motion, Ichigo was up and slammed his fist hard into the visor of the baton-wielding guard. The larger man went tumbling to the ground, gasping in shock at how strong the punch was. The subjects were fed only twice a day in barely moderate proportions, so their strength was cut in half at the lack of food. But that didn't matter, for a human-form werewolf was still as strong as three men, even without food or water.
"Get down!" The other guard, now holding his activated weapon, charged and tackled Ichigo against the fence to restrain him. The guard stabbed him with the baton and yet again volts of electricity ran through his veins painfully.
Then it happened. In a sudden, unexpected moment Ichigo's vision enhanced a hundred fold and his gut churned disgustingly. He grasped the guard's hand and yanked it away, dislodging the baton from the man's hand with a painful lurch.
Ichigo's eyes glared molten gold as he held tight the man's wrist with a growl. The guard struggled, trying to break his hand free from the boy's grip, but to no avail. He clenched harder, effectively breaking the bone with a sickening crack!
The man screamed and fell to his knees. A crowd began to form around the scene and cheered on the orange haired boy as he reared back and slammed the man across the temple, hard, knocking him out in a second.
Ichigo growled, the wolf lurking within him. He could hear it moving around inside of him; a tirade of grunts and snorts reverberating off the walls of his subconscious. It spoke to him, not in words, but with feelings and sensations. It wanted him to feed, to fulfill its lust for destruction.
The turmoil within his head distracted him, and he didn't budge when the SWAT came barreling out at him. They tackled him to the ground and held down his arms and legs as he began to flail about in anger. He couldn't control himself. The rage and carnal need to feed was too strong.
This was the closest to actually experiencing what it was like to be the wolf. When transformed during the Moon, you held no memory of what happened while Changed. No residual feelings or thoughts, just crawling skin and disorientation. But during this time, when the stress of the situation triggers a partial transformation you get a taste of what it was like to be a beast.
Ichigo howled out, and the last thing he saw was the butte of a gun driving right towards his face.
–
A flash of light, and a sudden jolt woke Ichigo from his not-so-humble rest. He jumped up from his bed and groaned as the blood rushed straight from his head. He rubbed his tired eyes, only to find one badly bruised. It stung. He hissed when his hand touched the tender skin of his left eye.
"Looks bad,"
He looked up and found Chad sulking in his usual corner, his brown hair covering his eyes from Ichigo's view.
"Yeah...bastards really got me." He mumbled, sitting up on his bunk. He liked to be on the top bunk, because he got a look at the whole room from up there. It wasn't much of a feat, for the cell was so small, but it was something he would take. "Surprised they didn't throw me back in the Dungeon." He said, throwing his feet over the edge.
"You're lucky," Chad said.
Ichigo nodded lightly, even though he knew his cellmate wouldn't see it in the darkness. "Guess so. I hate being in that horrid room." He said, looking down at his hands. There was a little blood on his knuckles, but other than that there was no other indication that he had punched a hole through a plated helmet and lashed out at at least twenty men at once. He scrunched up his nose at the lack of wounds and had to hold back grinding his teeth and clenching his fists in resentment. To distract himself, he looked back over at Chad and asked, "Where were you when I was being ambushed?" His words weren't meant to sound so angry, but it just came out like that.
The other man looked up at him, a deep frown on his face. "I didn't know it was you who was fighting." He said.
Ichigo snorted. "Of course..." He said, running a hand through his orange locks.
Chad shifted in his bed, as if uncomfortable. Ichigo rose a brow and followed the general direction the large man was looking at and found him staring down the bottom bunk.
"What are you looking-" Ichigo hopped down from his bunk to the cold ground to find a figure sitting within the darkness of the bottom bunk. His eyes widened in shock, for he hadn't expected to find anyone else within the cell. He didn't even smell the person, whom he could see to be female. "Uh..."
The woman scooted forward, her violet eyes staring daggers into his chest. She was petite, with a small stature and anti-generous assets. Her raven hair fell about her shoulders, framing her pale face and large, violet eyes. She wore the standard white garb, but with the sleeves longer than the norm, reaching just below her wrists.
She scowled at him with her arms crossed over her legs which came up under her chin. He could tell she was scared, for she was in a new place with dangerous looking people. She must have been one of the new subjects being brought in earlier... Ichigo concluded. The poor girl...doesn't even look 15.
"Who are you?" He spoke.
The girl stared at him, her eyes fierce with something Ichigo couldn't quite fathom. "Where are we?" She ignored his question. "That man won't answer me." She gave a pointed look at Chad.
He glanced over at his cell-mate, who just gave a light shrug of his broad shoulders. "You're at a Werewolf Rehabilitation Camp. Looks like you got caught, just like the rest of us."
The woman seemed to consider this before slinking back into the bed, much like Chad on his side of the cell. "Great..." She grumbled.
Ichigo snorted. "You didn't answer me before...who are you?"
The woman grunted. "Rukia Kuchiki." She said.
"Ichigo Kurosaki. And that over there is Chad."
"It's Yasutora Sado." The bear-man corrected.
"I call him Chad." Ichigo said, grinning lopsidedly at his friend. "Welcome to hell."
–
A few more days passed, and Ichigo found life to run on its usual monotonous rate. After the incident with the guards, he had found himself to be more popular in the crowd for at least a day or two. Many congratulated him on breaking the bones of at least three guards, and then went back to whatever game or exercise they participated in.
He walked out towards his usual spot and sat down by the fence. The muck was caught between his toes, but he didn't care. It had been raining the past week, which meant the subjects were forced to roam about in the mud. It was inhumane to let them be like this; to roll in the mud and bark out at each other like animals. That's what they were treated like: Animals. Because, in a sense, they were.
As if to prove his point a fight broke out by the bars. A group of men and women converged onto a single point and began a brawl that slowly expanded outwards into the crowd. Others were pulled in, and Ichigo watched disinterestedly as the guards came swarming in to break up the fight.
"Is it always like this...?" He turned to find his new cellmate, Rukia, sitting down next to him. He raised a brow in question.
"Yes. Almost every day. It gets especially wild during the week pre-transformation. Get ready to see some more of those blood-baths..." He said, sighing and looking back out into the forest that surrounded the compound. If he could only make it over the fence... "What are you doing here anyway?" He looked at her suspiciously. Rukia had been spending her days in total isolation, disappearing once they were set free of their cells. He hadn't seen her much the past few days.
She gave him a narrow look. "It's a free country, I can sit wherever I want." She said, pulling her legs up to her chin like she always did.
He figured it was a nervous habit of hers. The girl must have been terrified having seen the brutality of recess. "Well, go away and work out or something. Don't bother me." He said coldly. It truly made him feel guilty to be such a dick, but here you couldn't make any friends. Too many subjects die everyday from lack of nutrition, mishaps in the lab, and from beatings from the guards or from other subjects. Ichigo didn't think he could survive losing someone else.
Rukia huffed and glared at him. She stood and turned her nose up at him. "Fine, you ass. Be like that." She said and stormed off to do whatever. He didn't care, just as long as she was away from him. She smelled so clean compared to the others that it made him nostalgic for the sweet smells of his sister's cooking. Being nostalgic meant weakness here.
And Ichigo couldn't afford to be weak.
–
The full moon was coming soon. Ichigo could feel it within the marrow of his bones. The facility didn't allow for the subjects to be reminded what day it was, which made it hard to keep a grasp on reality. You couldn't tell how long it had been since you did this, or that, or when you had even arrived here. You just knew that this is where you'll meet your end.
The days prior to a Change was indistinguishable to every subject. They felt a tingle over their skin, as if spiders crawled over the pale, callous flesh. Their sense of smell and sight was naturally increased to the point of noticing, and they all felt a wild sense of anger rising within them at the most random of times. These mood swings had caused the death of many a subject, guard, and even scientist.
The more these signs appeared, the closer to the Change they were. It was maddening not to know when the full moon was to rise. Ichigo hated that every night he'd wait for the guards to call out the prisoners and locked each and every one up in a cage for the night.
Tonight was no different. As he sat in his bunk, staring anxiously at the panned-glass door that held even the most powerful werewolf inside, he awaited for the sound of guards yelling and of subjects groaning in protest. It always chilled him to the core when it actually happened, because the anticipation for the change was the most dreadful thing he had ever felt.
After the transformation itself.
He figured tonight must not be the night, for it had been far too long since recess. Recess was at 3 PM sharp, and ended at 5 PM, leaving three hours before the transformation to start. It had been much longer than three hours since the subjects were thrown back into the cells to rot.
At least he thought it has.
With this in mind; Ichigo decided to finally relax and catch some sleep before being awoken by the loud buzzing that rang through the entire facility that signaled breakfast. They used prison rules, as the place was previously as such he figured, and took inventory over who remained and who deserted. No one ever tried to leave, because it was instant death. That was the one difference between jail and this camp; if you tried to run away you died. There wasn't any search parties that would hunt you down and bring you back. The hunts were literal, and ended in you getting a bullet between the eyes.
He had seen someone try once. It was during his first few months in this place, and he himself had been thinking over such an attempt himself. It was one of those days where the fights seemed to spill out in every direction, and the guards were all distracted. Ichigo had watched the man run to the fence and climb as fast as he could. He had a large build and a strong upper-body, which made him think the man had been preparing for this. The man had made it to the top then over, ignoring the cutting and slashing of the barbed-wire, and descended down by dropping. His legs took the blunt of the blow, but he managed to stumble to his feet and make it a good three feet before a loud pop rang out and everyone got silent. Ichigo had wondered what the noise was, and it wasn't until the man fell over dead did he realize it was a gunshot.
Pulling the stale blanket over his body, he sighed and closed his eyes. Seconds passed in silence, and he found himself about to sink into the not-so-bliss of a werewolf's sleep.
It was very faint, but he heard it. A sob came up from within the room and startled Ichigo out of his sleep. He sat up and listened, straining his ears to hear the sound again to make sure it wasn't just his imagination.
There it is again! The sound was starting to become more frequent. Soft sobs echoed against the murky walls of the cell. He hopped off his bunk and peered into the darkness of the bottom bunk, where he found the crying Rukia curled up into a ball.
"What the..." He shook his head. "Are you alright?" He whispered, leaning in closer to get a look. A fist came flying out, crashing into his chin painfully, sending him back a foot with a throbbing jawline. "Bitch!" He hissed, keeping his voice down.
"Get away!" She growled through a raspy throat, the tears flowing down her chin. "Leave me alone you ass!"
He rubbed his jaw and glared. "Excuse me for seeing what was wrong." He grumbled and climbed back up onto his bunk, frustrated. The one time he actually gives a damn and he gets punished for it!
The sobs continued, and it grated against his ear-drums like nails on a chalkboard. The sound was heartbreaking, for it was the ultimate portrayal of sorrow. Ichigo understood it more so than anyone could imagine. He had spent countless nights crying his eyes out at the injustice of the world. It wasn't until the third time he got into a fight because of it did he force himself to stop.
Rukia was a young girl, who too was dealt a nasty hand in life. He couldn't really hold a grudge against someone who was shamed with the same thing as he, and a hundred other people.
She hiccuped, and wiped away the hot tears that trailed down her pale cheeks. She clung tightly to the thin, dirty sheets of her uncomfortable bed in hopes of solace, only to be disappointed. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Ichigo again hopped down from his bunk, the weak metal groaning from the release of pressure above her.
"G-go away!" She said weakly as the orange haired man sat down onto her bunk and glared at her. She was going to ball up her fist and send him away again, but he swung his arm around her and pulled her close into his chest comfortingly. "What...?" She looked up at him with glistening eyes.
"Just shut up and cry. This is a one time thing, and if you don't take it then you're screwed because you will get killed crying. So let it out now while you still can." He whispered, looking away flustered.
Rukia stared at him with wide eyes, shocked. "Why...why are you doing this...?" She asked, her throat clogged from the tears. Her tough-act had subsided, and he was seeing her for what she truly was: Scared.
Ichigo made a face, and stared out the glass that separated the three cellmates from the hundred other werewolves. What could he say? That he hated the sound of her crying? That he hated the sound of crying in general? No, that made him seem weak.
"Because," was all he said, dismissing her.
She seemed to accept that and leaned into his embrace, her sobs now muffled by the dirt-coated shirt he wore. He was silent, keeping to his promise to let her cry. But one question plagued him.
"Why are you crying?" He knew that the answer was obvious. She could be sad because she had been captured. Maybe she felt that she was wrongly brought in. Or she could just miss her family. It was stupid of him to wonder why she was crying, but for some reason he wanted to hear her say it.
She seemed taken aback by his question, for she paused in her crying to ponder this. "I'm weak...I am so afraid of this place. I tried for so long not to be captured, and yet they catch me and force me here. I will never see anyone ever again, all because of a stupid scratch!" She sobbed and buried her face into the crook of his arm.
He patted her back and let her spill it out. There wasn't anything for him to say, for he understood her pain. No words could describe it, and nothing could be said to ease the turmoil that develops in your heart. All he could do was hold her and let her release it all out.
"I'm sorry," was the only thing he could really manage. It wasn't a powerful thing to say to stop her tears and make everything right, but he said it anyway for the sake of saying something. No one deserved this hell, especially not this poor, fragile girl.
"And..." She looked up at him, biting her lip. Debating over something. "Earlier...I-I was afraid that I'd be alone here. So...I tried to make friends..." She trailed off and sniffed, swiping at her blood-shot eyes.
The incident at recess earlier that day came back to Ichigo, and he felt a wave of guilt rise up to his throat. Had he really hurt her that much? He didn't mean to, he just couldn't afford to be soft towards someone only to lose them.
"Oh..." He tried to think of something to say, but came up empty.
"You don't have to apologize," She cut him off before he could speak. "I should have figured this wasn't a friendly place. The articles I read about this place hadn't mentioned any of the brutality I've seen here. I thought...it'd be more of a understanding place...since we're all the same..." A few wave of tears fell, and his heart sank.
"This isn't the place to be making friends, Rukia." He said softly. "This isn't high school where there will be a clique where you can fit into. Here...we all are alone. You don't really make friends, you make enemies. You can't be so nice here, which is why I did what I did. You can't show weakness, or you'll be killed."
"I know that now..." She rubbed her arms where there was a fresh bruise growing.
Ichigo's eyes widened. "Who did that?" He asked forcefully.
Rukia's eyes wandered the room, everywhere but him. "It doesn't matter..." She whispered sheepishly.
He tightened his hold over her and forced her to look him in the eye. He didn't understand why he wanted to know so badly, he just did. And he damn well will get an answer. "Who. Did. That?"
She flinched, and he loosened his grip to show he wasn't going to hurt her. "Some...some guy with blue hair..."
Grimmjow... He recognized instantly. One of those former bikers that got caught up by a wolf in Las Noches...
Ichigo held onto Rukia as she finished and fell asleep. He heard her sobs slowly turn into snores, and laid her down gently onto the mattress and covered her up. This was something he use to do with his sisters, and it should have brought back memories of those days and sting deeply into his already bruised heart.
But...
All he could picture was Grimmjow's face when he bashed it into the ground tomorrow.
–
Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez was part of an intricate motorcycle club that smuggles drugs and weapons into the country through various contracts and sources. A biker gang essentially. The leader of the infamous group- the Espada- was Aizen Sousuke, with his lieutenant Gin Ichimaru. The gang was diminished now, as the founding fathers- Aizen, Gin, and Kaname Tousen- were now werewolves stuck in this facility along with some other members who were unlucky enough to tag along to a drug deal which ended in bloodshed. Had they not planned to meet on a full moon, then maybe it would have worked out for them.
Now, the group huddles together at recess and glares outwards at everyone who comes by. Their former glory was just that-former. No one truly feared them anymore, as everyone was on the same level. A werewolf was a werewolf, no matter what you were before becoming one. Though Ichigo doubted anyone was dumb enough to actually try fighting any of them.
Well, other than himself of course.
As soon as he was released to recess he stepped up to the group and scowled hard in the direction of the blue haired biker. Grimmjow caught his eye, and returned the scowl with as much fever.
"What are you staring at, strawberry?" Grimmjow growled once Ichigo was in ear-shot. The group of thirteen men and women turned towards him and regarded him with scrutinizing eyes, all sizing him up.
This didn't intimidate him. He wasn't one to cower just because he was outnumbered; more than once he had taken down packs of men without breaking a sweat. So when they all growled and glared- he stood his ground.
"I'm looking at you, pussy." Ichigo knew this hit home, for Grimmjow stood and balled his fists with a snarl.
"What was that, boy?" Grimmjow was in his face now, standing an inch taller with his teeth barred.
"Ichigo!" He turned and noticed Rukia running through the crowd towards him. She must have figured what he was doing, for her expression was panicked. She ran up behind him and gripped his arm hard. "What are you doing you asshole!"
"Just back up, Rukia. I'll handle this." He instructed, pushing her back as he met the blue haired biker's eye again.
"You hear that?" A dark skinned man with black hair in a pony-tail called with a boisterous smirk. He recognized him as Yammy. "He's gonna handle this!"
The group gave a collected laugh, and the fire within Ichigo churned. He was getting angry, and he couldn't be stopped once he saw red.
"Ichigo, just come on! Leave it be!" Rukia tugged at his arm forcefully. He was surprised by how strong she really was, for he actually stumbled a bit when she pulled him back.
"I'd listen to your bitch Ichigo, or else you'll end up dead." Grimmjow was snickering at him. That was the last straw.
With flaring yellow eyes Ichigo lunged forward and drove a hard fist into Grimmjow's throat, aiming to smash the man's wind-pipe. He went flying backwards into his gang, who all jumped and dove at Ichigo as one.
Before he knew it he was entangled in a mesh of fist, kicks, growls and curses. Ichigo swung his limbs around in an attempt to take down whoever was in his way, but they held numbers over his power. His arms and legs were pinned in no time flat, and his stomach was pelted by fists rapidly. He coughed, struggled, and was smacked in the face in reward.
"Ichigo!" Rukia punched the man holding his left arm, knocking him back with surprise force. With his arm free, he smacked free his other arm and was on his feet in one fowl swoop.
The brawl continued for at least three minutes, the orange haired man holding his own with hard hits and fierce kicks. His nose broke, his lip and brow began to bleed, and he swore he heard a bone snap in one of his arms, but none of it stopped him. Adrenaline and rage were driving him, as they always did, to finish this fight.
Shining yellow eyes glared at him as he heard the guards come flying out with their electric batons and black armor. Ichigo turned to the rushing men and snarled, the wolf coming out in all its glory from the inside-out to wreck havoc on anything and everything it could.
"Break it up!" The guards came swarming in, their electric prods at ready, and began to stab at everyone involved, including Ichigo.
He jerked back as he was stung on the arm and growled. He moved to punch the guard jabbing at him, but the prod's length beat out his arms' and he was shocked again in the chest. A heart beat was skipped, and he lost his breath.
The voltage is higher than normal... He noticed as he backed up. He could see the others trying to fight back, but already three were down and out, leaving them weakened and losing. Ichigo looked over to where Rukia was and found her out of sight, probably having run away once the guards came.
Good, He thought. He didn't want her to get in trouble, this wasn't her fault. It was his own.
"You little bastard!" The guard barked and stabbed at him again, finally taking down the orange haired werewolf. He fell to the ground and convulsed on himself, the energy running through his system and jolting his joints painfully.
–
The guards charged-down their weapons and began to collect the men and women in the dirt. Rukia watched on in horror as Ichigo was forced onto his feet unsteadily and hefted inside the building alongside the biker gang.
"Where are they taking them?" She asked aloud, her eyes wide with shock. She hadn't expected for her cell-mate to actually stand up for her and fight the man who had hit her the day before.
Why would he do that? Just yesterday he was telling me to leave him alone...
"To the Dungeon." Chad was next to her, watching the entire scene along with all the other subjects in the yard.
"What's that?" She asked.
"When one of us is bad, we get thrown in solitary confinement as punishment." The bear-man, as Rukia liked to refer to him as, said quietly. If it wasn't for her heightened sense of hearing she'd have not have heard him.
"You idiot..." She whispered to herself dryly. "And of all nights..."
–
Ichigo was tossed into the Dungeon in the same manner as always. He was stripped along the corridor and thrown in forcefully onto the cold, hard ground; the jeering and laughing of the guards echoing off the walls as they stood over him with their taunting smiles. They were in control, and he hated it more than anything on this planet.
"You really fucked up this time Kurosaki." One said, laughing.
"Yup," another said. "You're the lucky winner of a little experiment we thought we'd try out in honor of the coats upstairs."
"What...?" Ichigo spat, glaring hard at the men as he held his decency.
"See, we were wondering what would happen if one of you freaks Changed in here. Like, what would be the effect on you and such- scientific crap. So we were thinking about who to throw in here and guess who ends up getting in trouble? And on the night of the full moon to boot!"
His eyes widened. "What? Tonight? You're going to keep me locked up in here for the Change?" He wailed, fear rising into his chest. Why would they do this to him? He knew they were demented, but to this level?
"Damn right we are!" They all laughed and slammed the door in his face just as he made a mad-dash towards it. He slammed his fists against the bolted metal door and cried out in panic.
"Please! No! You can't do this to me! It's inhumane!" He pleaded with them. He didn't know what he would do locked up in here during the change. What if he battered himself to death? What if he escaped and killed them all?
"That would be true," The guard said through the food-slot. "If you were actually human!" and they laughed again, spitting in his face and leaving him to rot in the cell.
–
Ichigo slammed fist after fist against the metal door, screaming out for someone to free him immediately. It was the guards who were doing this, not the scientists. And if he could warn even one obedient guard or even a scientist running some check-up or something that he was locked inside he'd be saved.
It was mandatory that all subjects, including ones undergoing punishment in the Dungeon, were present in the chamber downstairs for the Change. No one was to Change anywhere else.
There had once been some tests on the full formed wolf, he heard. Some subjects talked rumors of scientists having werewolves Change in selected areas for tests. But he had never noticed anyone missing. Though, he didn't know everyone, so it was possible this was happening and he didn't know of it.
He had once seen a video of the Change on one of the monitors in the labs. They were watching someone's transformation- if it was his own, he didn't know- and he peeked on in with his clearer sight and extra hearing.
He was only able to catch the vestiges of the Change- the ending. The snout came out, and the sounds that escaped the throat of the beast were ghastly. The sound of a true monster in Ichigo's opinion. At first there remained a semblance of the person's voice, retained from the body in which the beast lay dormant until this retched night, but it soon faded away and all that was left was the beast.
He had watched as the thing stood on the video and growled. It hadn't been in one of the cages all of them were usually locked up in during these nights. It was locked into one of the testing rooms with extra padding and a bolt lock on the door that could only be opened from the outside. The werewolf was about seven feet tall, with black shaggy hair and piercing yellow eyes that shone with hunger and rage. He remembers watching it scuttle about in confusion, watching as it tried to figure out where it was before it released a terrible screech and went on a total rampage. It ripped the room apart, its claws slashing through the padding like it was nothing. Its hooked feet tore up the floor, leaving long gashes in their wake. It roared with such intensity, making chills run down his spine.
Is that really what I turn into? He had wondered at the time, aghast by the sight. The beast had torn that room to shreds with its rage, releasing a tirade of sounds that gave him nightmares for weeks.
The one thing he hated most about the whole thing, is the blacking out. In the mornings after, no one would have memory of what had happened while Changed. It was a dreamless sleep, with nothing more to cling to other than a faint sense of dread. It was maddening, nerve-wracking and downright sickening.
Ichigo reminisced over the memory of that video, and felt a wave of bile rise into his throat. Whether it be from the oncoming Change or from the memory: He didn't know.
But he figured there couldn't be anywhere else they'd let them Change. The officials didn't want an escape attempt by one of the wolves. Surveillance wasn't enough to keep a werewolf inside the compound. So they had to be locked up in small cages inside a chamber under the facility. The cages were made of pure titanium steel, with a series of locks that even the smartest werewolf couldn't figure out. A normal human could escape with persistence, intelligence and vigor, but they counted on the incompetence of a wolf to keep them caged.
He didn't know what would happen if the wolf was loose in this room, because it had never happened before. This room was meant for punishment of the subjects, not for the containment of a fully enraged beast. The door was thick with metal and had a very similar locking system as the cages downstairs, but he wasn't so sure on the durability of the hinges that kept this door connected to the wall. He may not be able to break through it, but it was possible for the door to be rattled so hard it just fell forward, and then it would be loose in the building. And no one would be ready for that.
He looked around the room in a panic. It was small and closed in, barely a droplet of light coming through the tiny cracks above and under the door, with the lingering scent of defecation and urine roaming about in the air like swamp gas. It was cramp, cold, and alone. The perfect place for the wolf to go absolutely ballistic. The wolf would cower in the space, roar out into the dark, and lose its mind. That was a bad thing. The wolf gained strength from its rage and inability to rationally think over its predicament. In a small room like this: The wolf would go beyond its own limits and go insane.
He felt fear strike at the very core of his being and he yelled even louder, praying that someone would come rescue him, that this had just been a joke the guards were playing on him to freak him out. What if tonight wasn't even the full moon? Or what if they were just snickering at him outside the door and would take him to his cage before the Change? What if-
The Change was upon Ichigo before he knew it. It was a throbbing pain that ran up his side and directly into his head. There was a crunching sound as bone and muscle and sinew began to rip and tear, pull apart and press together again rapidly. His legs gave out under him and he fell on his side, his mind reeling from the sudden explosion of white hot pain running through his entire body. He howled out, clambering up to his feet to try and regain balance. Another snap, and he was on his hands and knees in seconds, screaming in pure agony as the pain erupted into every cell of his being. It wasn't until long after did he even realize he fell to his hands and knees.
His heart pounded loud in his ears, and then just stopped. As if a button was pressed and everything within his body shut down whilst this torment continued. He felt hollow from within, and it drove him mad.
He writhed in agony on the floor, twitching and tossing and turning and trembling. He felt his skin pop as bone and muscle pressed outwards, taking on new shapes not right for a human body. The sound was almost like that of cracking an egg repeatedly. It echoed off the walls and back into his ears. He gurgled, saliva dripping from his mouth as he felt the insides of his gums go numb. He spat out the wetness and closed his eyes tightly as a pain so hot exploded up his spine. He felt his skin stretch yet again.
Gums ripped apart, blood spurting from his mouth onto the floor, and out came the teeth; the rows of fangs sharper than any blade. He had been through this transformation so many times that he could nearly list off what was to come. First the teeth, then came the claws.
As if on cue, he lifted his hand and watched as black, jagged hooks came sprouting forth through a crust of blood from his finger-tips. He watched as movement crawled up his knuckles, expanding his skin just enough for his hand to quiver, and black nubs sprouted from his finger-tips and lengthened out into hooked claws. He spun around his hand, as if to shake away the deadly weapons, and noticed how raw his skin was becoming.
This meant the third stage was upon him. Hair follicles began to form and out came the brown, shaggy hair of the beast. It came out in black patches along his arms and torso and legs. It itched, and he had to resist scratching them with his now dagger-like hands.
His legs had a spasm of their own. His joints snapped and twisted, changing to allow him a quadrupedal form if he so chose. His feet elongated, the heels rising into the air as his toes snapped each at a time and miniature claws came forth from the digits. He felt his body being lifted on its own accord, his legs and arms extending as new muscle bulged along his biceps and thighs. His throat clogged, and for a moment no sound could be made from the tortured man laying on the floor.
His body was racked by terrible shivers. He almost lost his balance and fell face first into the drool and blood pool forming under him. The body-quakes made it all just the more unbearable. His ripping muscles joggled back and forth inside of him, the pain intensifying; as if some invisible force wanted him to suffer that extra bit.
His forehead and jaw pushed forward, the sounds of his skull breaking and taking on the shape of a snout loud in his ears. His cheeks swelled and hair grew over the ridges that began to form from the pointed edges of his broken skull. He felt hot tears run down his new muzzle and drip down into the pool of spittle that lay bright in his vision below.
He could never get use to this...this complete hell. No matter how many times it happened, no matter how well he could cue what would happen next, he would always scream and cry out in pain...
This night was no different. The metamorphosis was soul-shattering; the recession from logical sense to primal instinct was slow and drove him to near insanity all in only a few minutes; and the darkness befell his psyche like a blanket over a bed. He was trapped under a sea of total shroud, and there was no way out until the beast said so.
But there was something off...in the sea he saw ripples. Of consciousness and self-awareness. He stared into the ripples for a moment, feeling himself fade. There, within the waving lines of his mind was a face...
Rukia's face.
–
Ichigo woke to the sound of banging. He groaned and turned over, the cold ground scratching at his skin painfully. He twitched and cracked open his eyes as the bolt door opened wide, letting in the incredibly bright sunlight that stung his bleary eyes. He shielded his eyes from the beam of light and leaned on his elbows to look up at the tall man standing above him.
"How are you feeling, Kurosaki-san?" The man above him asked in a tone of voice that sparked a memory within him. He recognized the man as one of the scientists who tested on him and the other werewolves from time to time.
"I'm..." He more so coughed than said. He was sore all over and freezing cold. He was disoriented, and was in need of food and water immediately. "...shitty."
"To be expected," The man said, writing something down on a clipboard. "We weren't expecting this kind of experiment to be taken, and we apologize for the guard's cruelty. They will be punished accordingly and won't be bothering you ever again." said the scientist as he smiled down at Ichigo. He couldn't quite see the man's face, but the scent was familiar. He racked his brain for the man's name and face, but came up blank. It was too early in the morning for him to think.
"Ahhh..." was all he could manage. What time was it? What day was it?
"The usual disorientation after a transformation. Seems this unexpected experiment was a failure, though that was to be expected." The man wrote some more and turned. "You shall remain in here, as per your punishment, but as recreation the time has been cut to half. So you will be released the day after tomorrow. Good day Kurosaki-san."
The door shut and Ichigo was left with his disorganized thoughts. He moaned and pushed himself up and back against the wall, ignoring the cold sting against his skin. He inhaled deeply and exhaled, relishing in the clarity it brought to his restless mind.
Taking a look at the murky walls around him he saw long, jagged scars across the skin of the room. Chunks of stone lay scattered about him in sporadic repetition, and his bathroom-bucket was obliterated. The door specifically was attacked, with scars and grooves along its padding, the area of the knob being the most ravished.
It can recognize the concept of a door... He thought, trying to replay the events of the night before. He drew a blank, and sighed again as he closed his eyes and sprawled out on the floor, not caring of his exposed sex to the harsh weather of the Dungeon.
Trailing back with his mind's eye, he found nothing but complete darkness and solitude. Just like every other transformation. But he could feel something stirring inside the dusk of his mind, something left over from the beast. It wasn't a memory, or even a coherent thought; but an impression. An emotion that lashed out and lingered within his psyche, begging to be captured and examined. But he couldn't quite get it, and gave a frustrated growl because of this.
"What are you trying to tell me you son of a bitch?" He ground out as he crouched in the corner and released himself on the wall, scrunching up his nose at the putrid smell it washed the room with.
–
Ichigo was released two days later, as promised. The guards who came and let him out and handed him a fresh pair of clothing were not the same men who had thrown him in the Dungeon, and in fact seemed more nervous about being around him.
New recruits, He figured. Sometimes there'd be new guards, and they would be so scared that he could smell it from across the field during recess. It caused some riots, for the smell of fear set off most of the bigger subjects. He prayed these men actually lasted the week.
Ichigo was led back to his cell by the new guards, passing by the hundreds of other subjects who hooted and hollered at him. Apparently he had made a name for himself by attacking the Visored. The orange haired freak had taken on, and had held his own against one of the most ferocious groups in the camp. That got him some good rep.
Rep that wouldn't last.
Entering his cell he found Chad in his usual spot and Rukia still asleep in her bunk. The door hissed open and she awoke at the sound. He entered the cell and watched the door close shut and the guards walk off, the sound of yelling following behind them.
"Ichigo!" Rukia jumped from her bed.
"Yo," He said dully, waving.
"You idiot!" She balled her fist and slammed it directly into his chin, glaring. He fell back and hit the pan-door, falling on his behind.
"Geez you crazy midget! What was that for?" He yelled, standing and holding his bruised chin.
"You're an asshole, that's what!" She bellowed. "What was that the other day? You nearly got killed!"
Ichigo scowled. "I was fighting them for you, you bitch!"
"I didn't ask you to!"
"Well I did!"
"And I'm saying you didn't have to you moron!"
"Quit calling me a moron you freaking bitch!"
"Strawberry!"
"Midget!
The two glared at each other heatedly.
"Could you please keep it down?" Chad whispered from the corner, watching through his brown locks.
"Sorry," They said in unison, sending withering stares in each others direction.
"I'm tired." Ichigo grumbled as he pushed past Rukia and climbed up into his bed and under his blanket, relishing in the comfort of a bed instead of the hard floor of the Dungeon.
Sighing in content, he rolled over and closed his eyes. It was still early, and he had a few hours before they would be released to recess. He decided to use that time to rest.
Moments passed by, and an eerie feeling crept up his spine. He turned over and found the raven haired woman staring at him intently. He frowned and narrowed his eyes. "What?"
"Why did you do it?" She said, her stare not wavering in the slightest.
He raised a brow. "What do you mean?"
"The other day, why did you fight them like that?"
Ichigo stared at her for a second, contemplating his answer. In truth: he didn't know. He just did. After finding out they had hurt his new cellmate he had just gotten angry. Angry enough to walk up to that white haired bastard and punch his nose into his skull.
But why had he been so angry?
"I don't know..." He grumbled in response. "I guess I just don't like that kind of shit. You're new, and they already attacked you. So I got them back." He said, scratching his head in thought.
"Oh," She said, considering this. She seemed to avert her attention, so Ichigo turned back over and closed his eyes to sleep.
"Thank you," His eyes shot back open as Rukia leaned over and planted a soft kiss to his temple, having to jump up onto the bunk to reach him. He turned over just as she slunk back into her bunk to hide in embarrassment.
Rolling back over, Ichigo did something he hadn't done in what seemed like forever.
He smiled.