AN: Thanks for the rave reviews & my apologies for the long delay. Thank you as well to my lovely beta, Riian-sama. :)
Warning: Non-con sex references
Disclaimer: I write for my own (& readers') pleasure. Read (or not) as you will.
He knew the carrot-top's sanity was not beginning to heal. It was more accurate to describe it as continuously degenerating. To the point that the young man was becoming a danger not only to himself but to everyone within Karakura Town.
Clearly, Ichigo thought that he was able to suppress his skittishness around other people, but the truth was that the kid could hardly stay in a chair when someone knocked on or opened the door to his guest room. And his conflict with his inner hollow was beginning to show. Sure, Ichigo had managed to subdue the hollow quickly each time it took over, but he seemed to be unaware that he had ever lost control. It was pure luck that the person standing in the kitchen the first time he lost control had been Yoruichi - the kids were good at dodging, but the hollow was still wickedly fast with thrown blades.
Ichigo hadn't even noticed the fresh patch of paint caulking over the place where the butcher knife had sunk into the wall. Or the scratch on Yoruichi's cheek.
Then the incident with Jinta had happened. Jinta had gone upstairs, a loud *BANG* had sounded, and then the boy was bolting back down the stairs as though the hounds of Hell itself were biting at his heels. Which turned out to be not too far from the actual situation when Ichigo's body, hollow well in control, flashed along just behind the child. It had taken the combined distractions of Ururu and Jinta, three well-placed kido spells from Tessai and Kisuke each as well as a load of luck to force the youth into sleep. After that, it was obvious that the situation could not continue the way that it had been, but none of them could find the words to tell Ichigo to hurry up and get his hollow under firm control.
At the time that the incident with Jinta had happened, Yoruichi had been away in Seireitei. She had left the moment the summons from Captain Yamamoto had arrived, pausing just long enough to look at Kisuke and say, "Zangetsu has been found" before she was flash stepping away. She had returned after a only a few hours, bearing a reinforced bag that held the shattered pieces of the substitute shinigami's zanpakutou.
Kisuke was of a mind that the solution could lie in convincing the substitute shinigami to allow at least one other person into his life. He was at a loss for words, however, when it came to actually proposing his solution to the youth.
He had frowned in confusion when he first spotted the cloth-covered night stand. Based on the patterns of various hillocks beneath the scarlet fabric, the miniature table held the pieces of Ichigo's zanpakutou, but the fabric gradually accumulated a thin layer of dust as the days passed and the cloth lay undisturbed. It had been his hope that the redhead would be able to reconnect with the blade in order to kick-start the process of healing. Reconnecting to the blade was apparently not in the younger man's plans, though, and he had no idea how to broach the topic. In the end, the decision was taken out of his hands by, of all people, Uryuu Ishida.
After nearly an entire month, Ichigo had continued to refuse any and all visitors beyond the immediate residents of the house. Even Kisuke, Tessai, Jinta, Ururu and Yoruichi were only given a grudging permission to be in the same general area as him. Touches were certainly out of the question, though, since they terrified the carrot-top out of a rational state of mind, and after the second incident in which his inner hollow had flashed into control, no one tried to push that particular boundary again.
Thankfully, Ichigo's group of friends and family was easily as resilient and stubborn as the redhead. So although attempts of Ichigo's friends and father to visit were by no means unusual, it just so happened that that particular day was different. On that day, the Quincy forced his way into the substitute shinigami's doorway. That day, it was the black-haired man who refused to be convinced, holding his ground despite the numerous curses and angry outbursts that greeted his presence. Kisuke had forgotten that the young man had once lost his powers then worked to regain them while simultaneously expanding the ferocity of his attacks; that is, Kisuke had forgotten until the moment he glimpsed the unmistakably stubborn glint in Ishida's eyes.
After Ichigo finally, reluctantly, allowed the Quincy to enter the same room, Ishida had held his silence for a long time. When he did break the silence, it was with quiet but earnest words. In fact, the ebony-haired man had spoken so quietly that Kisuke still was not sure what was said despite the use of his best eavesdropping abilities. Ichigo did not respond to the soft speech and remained silently introspective well after the other young man had left.
A few days after Ishida's visit, Kisuke had nearly jumped out of his skin when a harsh rasp behind him quietly prompted, "Urahara?" He turned to meet the dulled amber eyes.
"I- " the younger man swallowed and then opened his mouth again, obviously trying to force out the words that he could not say. Finally, a quick flicker of a glance down to the red bundle in his hands and then back up to Kisuke's face told the shinigami what Ichigo needed but could not say.
Kisuke only barely managed to keep a relieved sigh from escaping. That the substitute shinigami was willing to finally put forth the effort to reconnect to his blade, and therefore his inner world, was a very promising sign indeed. He could only hope that he would be able to help the younger man to rebuild his crumbled confidence and come back to some semblance of the 'self' he had been before the brutalization in Hueco del Mundo. Needless to say, Kisuke said "Yes" before leading the way towards the training cavern below the shop.
Little did he know how much time and effort he was letting himself in for by agreeing to help the carrot-top.
Ichigo was clearly reluctant to follow Kisuke anywhere. By the time that Kisuke had reached the entrance, he could see visible tremors racking the substitute shinigami's too-thin frame. It was even more obvious that it was fear of being at the mercy of Kisuke's training that was causing the tremors when Ichigo skittered away from his proffered helping hand and darted past the older man to scramble down the ladder as quickly as possible. Certainly, the fear of touch was only one of a myriad of problems to be remedied, but the shop owner was determined to face each one squarely while coaxing Ichigo past them one shaky, unsure step at a time.
Once the two were down the ladder and into the training cavern, Kisuke looked at the haunted younger male. "Heart or head, Ichigo?" he asked softly, settling easily into a cross-legged seat, "Which to deal with first?" It was a good thing that he intended it as a rhetorical question, though, since Ichigo stared at him blankly before taking a seat nearly ten feet away. Granted that seat directly faced Kisuke's place on the ground, but the choice only served to solidify the nebulous idea forming in the blond's head.
He met the scared amber eyes and nodded gently before slowly lifting his arm and holding out his open hand, palm up.
"Wha-" Ichigo cut himself off, then shakily continued, his voice sounding as though his vocal chords had been dragged through gravel for several miles before being reinserted into this shell of a man, "What do you want?"
"Your trust. I will stay here as long as it takes. You need to know that you have nothing to fear from me. I am a just a simple shop-keeper, nothing more." He smiled as he rested the back of his open hand on his knee and settled in to wait.
...
The man must be stark, raving, mad. That was the only reasonable explanation for the statement and the hand held out in silent offering. "Why?" he murmered, still feeling the grate and scrape of his raw voice. Just the sound of it caused the hairs on his neck and arms to rise as memories of how he came to sound that way threatened to overwhelm him yet again. For the first time, it was the sheer force of his curiosity that allowed him to force the cobwebs of memory away from his waking mind. That was probably just as well, though, considering that it was becoming more and more difficult to strongarm his inner hollow into accepting his control.
Each fight with his hollow in the back of his mind was becoming more challenging. Part of the new level of difficulty was the fact that he was no longer submerged in his inner world when he fought the creature. Instead, it was as though only a part of his mind dealt with the hollow, while the rest of him focused on the outside world. The other part of the problem was the lack of Zangetsu's presence. Barehanded fighting did not suit either of them very well, and the shards of his soul that were similar to Zangestu, which had manifested during bankai training, were too brittle for either of them to use effectively. Somehow Ichigo was managing to fight back with the help of what he considered to be dirty tricks - kicking dust into the hollow's face, throwing the broken blade pieces like shuriken stars - and by simply indulging his stubborn personality.
He was beginning to notice a disturbing pattern of minor memory lapses, though, that were quite similar to the one he had from the fight with Captain Kuchiki back when he'd been in soul society.
With a wrench, he dragged the majority of his attention back to the present, allowing the battle with his hollow to continue in a small corner of his mind. Unfortunately, despite his naturally stubborn demeanor, he could not bring himself to move so much as an inch closer to his mentor and friend. The thought of touching anyone intentionally had fled long ago. He knew that Urahara would not object to a touch after such an offer, but he could not imagine forcing even the slightest touch on someone else. And that was assuming he could get over his own terror at the idea of being caught and trapped by someone else once again. With his powers and sword useless, he was incapable of raising a finger to defend himself at the moment.
Being so helpless practically lit each of his nerves on fire.
He knew what needed to happen - it was the reason he had asked for help in the first place, since he could not seem to bring himself to willingly reach for contact with another person - but it seemed as though it would be much harder than he had thought to take this first step.
As they sat staring at one another, a strange grating sound, not unlike that of swords braced against one another in battle, began to permeate the stillness of the cavern. It started softly, but it gradually increased in crescendo until it sounded as if at least six battles were being held separately near the two seated shinigami. When he finally realized what was the cause of the hubbub, he blushed slightly in shame. He was shaking so hard that the pieces of his zanpakuto were clattering against each other in the scarlet wrappings with which he had covered them.
He huffed softly at the force of his own cowardice - never in the time Before had he shaken at the thought of the brief touch of his friend's hand - and gently placed the blood-colored fabric and the blades it contained on the ground to his right.
With slow and painstaking, emotionally laborious movements, he forced himself to rise. After all, he could not delay forever, and the moment had already been several months in coming. Although he could not make himself meet the other man's gaze, out of the corner of his eye he noticed a flicker of a smile twitch at the corners of the full mouth. Yet despite the sign of recognition for his efforts, the older shinigami did not so much as twitch any other part of his relaxed pose.
He wasn't sure how much time it actually took him to cross the distance, but it felt far too fast. Surely, based on the occasional growl of their stomachs, it must have been hours, but the lighting in the cavern did not change. All too soon, though, he found himself casting a shadow on Urahara's cross-legged seat on the ground.
Urahara simply sat still, waiting patiently for Ichigo's decision. Waiting for the beginning sign of trust that could spark his recovery into warp speed.
It felt as though it was the most difficult thing he had ever done to touch his fingertips to the tips of Urahara's upturned digits.