11. Memory
Ichigo's memory from that day was dim. He clearly recalled that he had been out for a walk with Chad and Uryuu, crossing some street, Charity, or maybe it was Grace. A truck filled to bursting with some unknown product trundled down the street as they stepped out into the road, a small, blinking red hand hurrying them across.
He was never quite sure on what happened next. Someone said the trucks brakes failed, another that the driver had been texting, another that he hit a patch of black ice on the cool January day, so on and so forth until he could no longer discern from whom the words originated.
Regardless, he recalled the burst of wind as it careened past, the impact as his body hit the pavement disproportionately hard for a simple trip and the cold, unusual dark that enveloped him when his head cracked against the ground.
It was getting on to twilight when he came to, dark and chromatic and the deserted street offered him no comfort as he picked himself warily off of the sidewalk, utterly baffled. Surely someone would have stopped and helped an unconscious young man lying face down on a busy intersection sidewalk. He groaned as he staggered to his feet and took a good look around him, finally ascertaining the direction he needed to wander in if he ever hoped to get home. He planned on a long hot shower, an inspection from his dad and a good meal before he called his friends to chew them out for leaving him.
His eerie trip grew steadily more disconcerting the longer he walked without meeting anyone. How long, he wondered, had he lain on the ground, unconscious and vulnerable, while the world moved on without him. By the time he arrived at his front door, the dark, dingy evening had begun to encroach over the city and he reached out to flick on their foyer light to combat the shadows, but nothing happened. He tried twice more and, still in the dark, slid into his home, examining everything from the toaster (broken) to the microwave clock (also broken), before he gave up and went to the refrigerator, determined to eat something before he keeled over from hunger.
On his way he poked his head down the hallway and, as loudly as he possibly could, he yelled, "Hey! Anybody home to come console their poor brother, whose friends, I might add, left him for dead today?"
The Kurosaki household fairly rang with the silence that followed his announcement and Ichigo gave up, disgusted and exhausted. He reached for the refrigerator door and saw the note taped there.
Karakura General Hospital NOW kids! – Dad
Huh.
Well, there at least was a clue to his family's whereabouts. He might as well pay the hospital a visit. At the very least he could get himself checked out for a concussion while he was there. Ichigo gathered up some overnight clothes, long experience with his father making him cautious. He set out moments later, noticing, somewhat nonplussed that the sky seemed lighter than when he entered his house, but lit by a dimmer, dirtier sort of light.
He saw people on this walk, but he ignored them with the same thoughtless sangfroid as they to him. He walked, quickly and in absolute silence, to Karakura General Hospital, wondering what on earth could have pressured their dad to leave his clinic, even for a moment.
He hoped that nothing had happened to Karin or Yuzu. The thought of one of his younger sisters injured hastened his pace and he fairly sprinted into the central foyer of Karakura General Hospital, blowing past a woman just in front of him at the revolving door. She made a small, surprised-sounding noise and he tossed a swift apology over his shoulder without looking back to see whether or not she even heard him.
He charged up to the receptionist's desk and slammed one hand down on the counter with more force than the situation probably required. He fidgeted, irked, when she did not even so much as look up. Again he tapped the counter, and still she sat, flipping lackadaisically through her magazine. He opened his mouth to shout for her attention when the woman he had shoved past at the door caught up with him. She laid her hand softly on the counter and the receptionist looked up with a smile, asking what she could do for her.
Ichigo stared, flabbergasted for a moment. "Excuse me ma'am," he began, but the women turned their backs on him as the receptionist indicated the direction the other woman could take to her desired destination.
Finished, she sat back down and picked up her magazine. Even as Ichigo drew himself up to his full height to talk to her he heard a small, familiar voice chime in from just beside him.
"Excuse me, miss," Yuzu said, peering over the counter, still wearing her school uniform and looking oddly frantic. Ichigo's heart leapt in his chest and he reached for her, desperate to console his obviously upset sibling. "I'm looking for my family. The name's Kurosaki. My brother's a patient here."
Ichigo froze, his hand halfway between them. Him, a patient here? "Yuzu," he said, trying desperately not to panic. "I'm right here, sis. In the flesh."
His sister never so much as looked his way, listening intently to the nurses direction and nodding in response to her consoling phrases. Yuzu began to walk away, down the hall opposite the desk and Ichigo trailed after her, ears ringing and head spinning. He couldn't be the patient here. Perhaps they were looking at all of the hospitals in the city, frantic to find him.
But no, he rationalized, that made no sense. His father's note had been specific, his sister had asked for him by name and been giving directions. Besides, he thought, Yuzu could not see spirits like the rest of them, which meant she had no idea he was behind her.
No sooner had that thought crossed his mind than they rounded the corner and found themselves in the surgical wing. Yuzu gave a little cry in front of him, a small, sad, abrupt sound, and flung herself forward, towards where their family sat. Ichigo remained in the doorway, observing.
It seemed as though everyone was there. His father sat in one of the hospital's token, hard, plastic chairs, head in his hands and elbows on his knees. His shoulders jerked and shook uncontrollably and Ichigo realized with an awful jolt that he was weeping, sobbing openly and shamelessly. A lump rose in his throat and he fought down the agonized noise that would give him away.
Karin stood beside their father and embraced Yuzu as she ran over, her own cheeks wet with tears that ran along old tracks down her face. Around her stood Chad, Uryuu, Ryuuken and Uruhara, his hands on Karin and Isshin's shoulders. Orihime, out of town with Tatsuki since last Saturday, was nowhere to be seen and there was a pronounced lack of Soul Reapers in the room as well.
It was Karin who eventually spotted him, lounging half in and half out of the shadows of the doorway. He thought for a moment that she too would overlook him, until he saw her piercing studying gaze grow horrified. The other eyes in the room followed her gaze and eventually the ensuing silence prompted Isshin to raise his head. His eyes, red-rimmed from weeping, grew wide and he brought his hands up to cover his mouth and catch the tears that leaked down his face at the sight of the irrefutable truth before him. He wiped his face with both palms and then placed his hands on his knees and prepared to stand.
Ichigo, seeing nothing to be gained from standing in the shadows any longer, stepped forward into his father's fierce, enveloping hug, grasping back as hard as his insubstantial body was able. He clung to his father, and then to his sisters, who stepped up on either side of them, Yuzu realizing who stood invisible in her father's grip and guessing as to where his body might be. Once they released him enough for each of them to step back and clear of him, the others in the room came forward to embrace him, one at a time. After each had done so, his father took him in his arms again and leaned back against the wall.
Ichigo, perversely comforted by their presences, finally asked the question that had been nagging at him since his encounter with Yuzu at the receptionists desk. "What happened?"
"You got hit by that truck on the corner of Grace and Main," Uryuu replied. It was carrying an order of new model cars to one of the lots in time, and the driver said he didn't see any of us."
Isshin made a noise in the back of his throat that said more clearly than words that he would like to take his zanpaukto the next time he met with the man in question. Uruhara laid a calming hand on his arm.
"We couldn't get to you in time," Chad put in, his voice even deeper and slower than normal.
The door in front of them swung open then, and a haggard looking man with salt and pepper hair and an expression of great remorse, stepped through. Isshin released Ichigo, who remained standing near to his father, and let his arms fall to his sides, so as not to look like he was embracing thin air.
"Dr. Krebs?" he greeted the man, his tone grimly inquisitive.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Kurosaki," Dr. Krebs began, his expression saying it all. Isshin began to shake and Yuzu hid her face in Karin's thin shoulder. "We did everything we could, but your son was as good as dead when we got to him. He flat-lined once in the ambulance on the way over and twice more on the table before we lost him for good. Your son is dead."
Isshin made and awful, howling noise, and the group gathered in the waiting room gathered around him once more. It was Karin who turned to the doctor finally and said, "Thank you, for everything you did for our brother. We appreciate all your hard work." Her voice cracked at the end and she, too, began to cry.
After the doctor had left them and everyone had more or less regained their fragile composure, Ichigo asked the question that had been lurking in the back of his mind like a terrible monster throughout the entire engagement. "What happens now?"
"Now," said a cool, tired voice from the doorway he himself had inhabited no a dozen moments before, "I need you to come with me."
Everyone turned around to see Toshiro standing, arms folded and eyes firmly on the ground, in the doorway.
"No," Isshin ground out from the center of the crowd, "you can't take him, not yet."
"Kurosaki-taichou," Toshiro replied, looking up and surprising every involved party with the tears glistening in his eyes, "the sooner we get this entire, unpleasant business over with, the less painful it will be, physically and emotionally, for everyone involved. I swear to you, as soon as he feels up to it, Ichigo can return to visit you."
"That could take decades," Ichigo's father shot back, looping a protective arm around his son's insubstantial shoulders.
"Better that than become a hollow," Toshiro responded, acerbic.
Ichigo remembered something suddenly, something from so far back, at the very beginning of his training, that he had barely thought of it earlier. His father and Toshiro were to embroiled in their argument to see, but Uruhara noticed the growing expression of panic overtaking Ichigo's face.
"Something wrong, kiddo?" he asked, not unkindly, stepping between the bickering Soul Reapers for a better look at Ichigo, who slid out from underneath his father's arm, suddenly afraind.
"I'm hungry," he said, horrified. "I've been hungry."
"Well," Uruhara reassured him, "That doesn't necessarily mean you're going to become a hollow, although we should probably get a move on." He made abrupt eye contact with Ichigo's father, whose arguments ceased immediately.
Toshiro approached, stopping only when Ichigo paused to ask him a question.
"Will I go to Soul Society, then?" he asked, looking suddenly uncertain.
"Yes," his lover responded soothingly, carefully drawing Hyorinmaru. "It may take some time for you to remember everything, but you're a fresh enough soul that the transition should occur smoothly. That alone is a blessing, because a great deal of folks over there are worried sick. Kuchiki-san is beside herself and Abari-fukataichou is scarcely in better shape to be helping her. It will do them good to see you well."
"Alright," Ichigo conceded, giving one last, fierce hug to everyone in the circle, spending and extra few seconds in his father's grasp. "You'll see," he told them all with a smile belied by the tears in his chocolate eyes, "I'll be through this faster than you've ever seen."
He genuflected before Toshiro and bent his head, eyes closed. "I'm ready," he said as Hyorinmaru's hilt swung forward. "I'm ready."
12. Insanity
"Ichigo," Toshiro called softly, his low voice carrying easily in the deafening silence following the battle. "Ichigo, it's time to go home."
The man he addressed remained kneeling on the ground, eyes dark and downcast, hands folded limply in his lap. Toshiro approached him slowly and lay a hand on his shoulder. He stood close enough to the substitute now that he could feel the tremors as the young man shook. It took a moment more for Toshiro to realize the man was weeping, crying silently, face dry but covered in old tear-tracks, eyes empty now, but his agony unstated.
Gingerly, Toshiro got down onto his knees and wrapped his arms around the younger man, slowly rocking him back and forth and running a soothing hand through his filthy hair.
"I'm going crazy, Toshiro," Ichigo finally said, his voice wretched. "I'm looking forward to killing them."
13. Grandmother
When Head Captain Yamamoto called him into his office, the last person Ichigo expected to find in his company was Hitsugaya-taichou's grandmother. Regardless, there she sat, legs folded demurely under her, cup of tea place carefully on the ground before her knees. She looked up as he came in and smiled, her nearly toothless mouth curved upwards in greeting.
Ichigo smiled in return, although he knew how much more uncertain his own expression must have looked. In her usual way, Grandmother made no mention of his shell-shocked expression and patted the mat beside, her, indicating that he should join her. He looked to Yamamoto, who nodded ever so slightly, before acquiescing; when he did sit, she amicably poured him a cup of tea and passed it over without a word. Her hands, where they met his were as cool and dry as the parchment his spouse had been working with when he left their quarters that morning and he smiled, keenly aware of every little way in which she reminded him of Toshiro.
"Kurosaki-taichou, you must be curious as to why I called you here today," Yamamoto-soutaichou began, surveying the young captain from beneath his sagging eyebrows.
"Er-yeah," Ichigo responded, accepting the tea and trying his utmost to track the conversation. "I was wondering."
"We have been made aware in the Seireitei of a particularly powerful young soul in the lower Rukon districts, with the potential to become an exceptional soul reaper. He is, unfortunately, highly distrustful of everyone we send in to retrieve him and his un-molded spiritual pressure smothers many of our envoys in their attempts. No one will go to him and no one wants him, should we succeed in bringing him back."
"So you want me to go get this kid?" Ichigo inquired, utterly bemused, "Why would I have any more success?"
"Your immense spiritual pressure will safeguard you in the event that he becomes…disgruntled, and you general demeanor, we hope, will accomplish the rest."
"Yeah," Ichigo replied," but why me? Wouldn't one of the older captains be much better suited for this job? Ukitake or Toshiro could surely accomplish it and they have far more experience than I do."
Yamamoto's mostly veiled eyes flicked to Grandmother, who, in turn, answered Ichigo's question. "They would not approve of our plan for afterwards, once we retrieve the child."
"Why not?" Ichigo inquired, still befuddled.
"Airin-sama intends to foster the boy, once we bring him successfully in, so that he may grow up near the academy and other soul reapers," Yamamoto answered and for a moment Ichigo entirely forgot the actual task at hand and turned to Toshiro's grandmother.
"Your name is Airin?" he asked her, mouth hanging slightly open. "That's very pretty."
She simply smiled in response, giving Ichigo's brain time to catch up to the current situation.
"Why," he began, slowly piecing the conversation logically together, "would they disapprove of you taking in a foster child?"
"Kurosaki-taichou," Yamamoto replied, "I am telling you this in greatest confidence. It is to be repeated to no one, not even Hitsugaya-taichou. Swear it to me, on Zangetsu."
Ichigo went rigid, staring at his commander with undisguised shock and reluctance dancing across his face. "This is about his leaking power isn't it? You're afraid he'll hurt her. That's why you don't want Toshiro to know."
"Swear it, Ichigo. I could force you, but that would end badly for us all."
"Hush, Yama-gi," Grandmother soothed. "His reluctance is understandable. Ichigo, I have been fostering powerful souls for years. My most recent three have gone on to become captains in their own right. They did me no long lasting harm, and this one will be no different. What Yamamoto is not telling you is that what I lack in spiritual pressure, I make up for in elasticity. There is very little conflict my spirit cannot weather. I will explain this all to Toshiro myself, once the boy is in my care, safely, once and for all. Please."
It was easily the most she had ever spoken to him and Ichigo, with reluctance still tugging at the corners of his mind, nodded his assent and kept his eyes on the floor for the rest of their debriefing.
14. Smile
"You must have a great dentist."
Toshiro Hitsugaya looked up from the paperwork he had packed with him when his secretary insisted they take a break from tax law and go out for drinks. She had pouted for a time at his 'un-funness,' but quickly occupied herself in drinking games with her friends. Now a carrot topped young man had sidled up to him at the corner table he had marooned himself in and Toshiro, in a rare bout of playfulness, decided to give the guy the time of day.
"Pardon me?" he responded, tilting his head to the side.
"I could lose myself in your scowl."
"Don't you mean smile?" Toshiro asked, utterly blindsided.
"Nope," the interloped grinned, his own smile broad and infectious and Toshiro realized with no little amount of chagrin the man quite simply had him at hello.
15. Silence
The silence in the Kurosaki household was almost palpable in the wake of Ichigo's funeral. Toshiro paid the family a visit a month after the ill-fated accident to update them on Ichigo's continually improving condition in Soul Society and pick up a few of his possessions to prompt his memories to continue resurfacing.
He left quickly this day, unable to tolerate the agonized quiet for another moment.
16. Questioning
"Where is he!" Ichigo snarled, hauling the Arrancar up by the bony protrusion on its chest.
The Hollow twisted in his grip, coughing blood and spattering them both with the viscous red liquid. Ichigo gave the creature another shake, prompting a second onslaught of coughing and a hateful glare aimed in his direction.
"I don't think you really want the answer to that question, Soul Reaper," he rasped, blood running down his chin and neck
"I'm certain I do," Ichigo replied, tightening his grip. "Now answer my question."
"He's with the King," the Hollow told him gleefully, "and I'll see him in Hell before you ever do again in life."
17. Blood
"For heaven's sake, Ichigo, it's just a needle!"
18. Rainbow
"I like it," Toshiro said, examining his reflection in the long mirror in Ichigo's bedroom.
"Oh good," Yuzu exclaimed, flitting about like an anxious butterfly. "I hoped it wasn't too bright, but I couldn't decide on a color and I just didn't know what to do with it."
"I like it," Toshiro repeated, fingering the brilliant azure and indigo scarf, with its bright infusions of sunny yellow, loud orange and fierce red as he turned to face his love's sister. "Thank you."
19. Gray
"Why do you spell it like that?"
"What?" Toshiro asked, looking up from where he sat, bent over paperwork at his desk in the Squad 10 offices.
"'Gray,'" Ichigo replied. "You spell it funny. Everyone knows it's supposed to be 'g-r-e-y.'"
"Oh really?" Toshiro inquired, pushing his chair back to stare at his companion. "And who, dare I ask, is everyone?"
"Well," Ichigo began, ticking off names on his fingers, "my dad, for one, and my grammar teachers and history teachers and literature teachers and…"
"Yes, yes," Toshiro broke in irritably, "you've made your point. I, on the other hand, learned English at a time when America had not yet had its way with modern literature and classic spelling were still widely accept and expected."
"Is that why you spell colour and favourite weird too," Ichigo asked, undeterred.
Toshiro shot him an utterly deadpan look before rolling his eyes to the heavens in a prayer for patience from whatever greater deity lived beyond even them.
20. Fortitude
"That's so totally unfair," Ichigo pouted, glaring at the piece of cardboard between them.
"It's not my fault you suck at strategy games," Toshiro pointed out with a smug smile.
"That's not even strategy!" Ichigo protested. "Sitting all holed up in the corner of Russia until we couldn't defend ourselves."
"That's not cheating," Toshiro told him, grinning like a cat as he collected his Risk soldiers, "that's just fortitude."
A/N: Drabbles 11-20 are finally up! This is a big deal for me because I am an epic procrastinator and I lose my motivation crazy easily when writing fan fiction interferes with little things like college get in the way. I'd love to hear what your thoughts are and I hope I'll be back as early as next week (and if you believed that, you might want to re-read sentence two.)
Stay awesome fanfictionarians!