Chapter 4: Poison
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, Slender Man/Slender or any Shakespeare works.
BLEACH
"How is he, Ryūken?" Isshin asked the bustling doctor in front of him, his face straight. The silver-haired doctor sighed and pushed his black glasses up his nose before brushing a long strand of hair out of his face and straightening his white lab coat as he stood up straight.
"It's exactly as it looks," Ryūken responded from across the small, private hospital room. "It's a bad case of Reiatsu Poisoning."
"Reiatsu Poisoning?" Rukia inquired from the corner of the room as she took notes to send back to Seireitei in a report, something that needed to be completed when a Shinigami – or, in this case, a Substitute Shinigami – was unable to report for duty.
Ryūken nodded. "Yes. It was something that was seen quite often in the Quincy who came back from the war, if I remember the stories correctly."
"It takes a powerful and incompatible Reiatsu, though," Isshin mused. "It shouldn't come on this quickly, either."
"That's what's odd…" Ryūken muttered as he checked the unconscious Ichigo's temperature again. "Still too high…"
"Any ideas about what's going on here?" Isshin grunted.
"I don't like that tone," Ryūken frowned. "I'm not only violating ethics by treating him. I'm breaking Quincy law!"
"Ah! But, you care about your family which is why you aren't leaving him with another doctor!" Isshin laughed.
"I can't leave him with another doctor! They couldn't treat him, you imbecile!" Ryūken snapped.
"I'm confused…" Rukia suddenly interjected from her place in the corner.
"It doesn't matter…" Ryūken groaned in annoyance. "All I can do is keep him stable until I can obtain the tools to extract the Reiatsu from him…"
"How long should that take?" Isshin asked.
"I'm not sure but, when I'm done, the Reiatsu can be tested to see which Hollow it came from," Ryūken replied.
"Are you certain that it's Reiatsu Poisoning?" Rukia inquired.
Ryūken nodded. "It's faint, but there's another Reiatsu deep inside him. It's difficult to detect and it's impossible to distinguish where it came from at this point, but there's definitely something there."
Rukia frowned and closed her eyes, concentrating on Ichigo and the Reiatsu that had apparently built up inside of him. Sure enough, there was something in there. There was a large amount of it, but it was obscured by Ichigo's Reiatsu, thus making the process of identification impossible.
"When do you think you can get the equipment?" Isshin asked.
"I don't know…" Ryūken sighed. "I would like to say that I'm absolutely certain that I can get it, but…"
Isshin looked over at Ichigo's sleeping face, noting how pale and flushed he looked, and gently placed his hand on top of his son's, rubbing is slowly with his thumb. "So… it isn't certain…"
"Is there no other way to get it out?!" Rukia quizzed in a panic as the reality of the situation set in.
"No. Human tools can't get it out. What we need is a device that can store and transfer Reiatsu," Ryūken informed her, shaking his head. Rukia cringed as the expression on his face warped into something akin to defeat.
Rukia paused, a million thoughts all running through her head at the same time. Quickly trying to sort through them to find some resemblance of an answer to their questions, she quickly blurted out the first idea that came to her.
"What about Urahara-san?!" she all but yelled.
The two men turned to look at her, each looking incredibly confused and a little shocked by her slight outburst. "What do you mean?" Isshin asked her.
"Well… I just thought that… if anyone's going to have it… Urahara-san will…!" Rukia responded, attempting to justify herself.
"Why not Soul Society? Wouldn't the medics have something?" Ryūken asked, suddenly getting an idea.
Rukia, unfortunately, shook her head. "We don't see things like this in Soul Society. Urahara has been developing all sorts of things, though…"
There was a silence before Isshin smiled and nodded. "You trust him, right?" Rukia simply nodded, not sure if there was anything else that she could say. "Then, go. Hurry up."
With a shaky yet wide smile, Rukia immediately bolted out the doors of the hospital room and Isshin and Ryūken were left to listen to her quick, soft footsteps echoing down the hallway before the self-closing door shut with a quiet click, shutting out all of the sounds that were emanating from the hall outside.
Isshin turned around as soon as he was sure that Rukia was gone. He dared not look at his son's face, avoiding the shadow of death that hung around the young man, instead simply focusing on Ichigo's cold hand that still lay beneath his own and, reaching out, he clasped the freezing appendage in both hands in a vain attempt to warm Ichigo up, even if it was just a little bit, his fatherly instincts running non-stop, yet his mind knowing that he was unable to do anything.
"… Y-you'll help him… right…?" Isshin half-begged quietly, the lump that was stuck in his throat preventing him from speaking clearly.
With a quiet sigh, Ryūken walked around the bed and placed a hand on Isshin's shoulder, looking the other way uneasily as he did so. "… I'll do my best, Isshin… I can make no promises…"
Isshin nodded, content with the answer. It wasn't one of reassurance, but it was one of truth and one that he appreciated much more than being fed lies just to make himself feel better. With a quiet sigh, Isshin descended into silence.
Later…
Rukia's breath came out in short pants, her shoes tapping softly, yet quickly, against the pavement as she neared Urahara's shop. Pushing away the thought of how much she would owe Urahara for this, she rounded the corner and the shop quickly came into sight.
Upon reaching the shop, she slammed the door open and stepped inside, frantically looking around for someone. Her eyes suddenly fell on a tall man who stood up from behind one of the shelves, a piece of Urahara's merchandise in his large hand and a cardboard box filled with merchandise lying at his feet, ready to be placed on the shelves.
He was a tall, muscular, lightly tanned man with cornrowed hair and a large handlebar moustache which was connected to his long sideburns. He wore a pair of rectangular-shaped glasses, a white muscle shirt, grey trousers and a blue apron.
"Tessai-san…!" Rukia breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted the large man and watched as he walked over to her. When he spoke, his voice was eerily calm.
"Don't slam the doors," he told her, his volume never rising beyond what could be considered normal.
A droplet of sweat trickled down the side of Rukia's face as she smiled awkwardly and spoke, her voice shaking slightly as she attempted to control her conflicted emotions about the whole matter. "… Yes, sir…"
"Oh… Kuchiki-san…" a tired-sounding voice droned from the side of the room near one of the entranceways to a hallway.
Rukia quickly whirled around and took a good look at the man, her tired mind barely registering who stood there. He was a tall, lean-built man with light skin, grey eyes and messy, pale-blond hair, strands of which framed the sides of the face and hung between his eyes. His chin was stubbled. He wore a dark coat with a white diamond pattern along its bottom half with a dark green shirt and trousers underneath it. He wore a pair of geta and a striped dark green and white bucket hat. He held a fan up in front of his face, his tired eyes peering over the top.
"Urahara-san!" Rukia began, stepping forwards as Urahara dully noted the frantic look in her eyes with a loud yawn. "I need your help!"
Meanwhile…
A tall man stared at the orange-haired young man who lay on the ground in front of him. He was a lean-built and stoic middle-aged man with pale skin, high cheekbones, stubble and long ragged black hair with brown highlights. He wore a tattered white dress shirt with an upturned collar and cuffs, black trousers, low-heeled boots and a long black overcoat with a burgundy highlight that flared out into ragged ends. He wore brown-tinted, semi-transparent wraparound sunglasses.
He frowned as the young man stirred. "Are you awake, Ichigo?" he asked, his voice containing a slight hint of concern as the young man – Kurosaki Ichigo – slowly sat up with a grunt, rubbing his tired eyes. The man's eyes narrowed as he noted Ichigo's noticeably pale complexion.
Ichigo groaned quietly as the man knelt down and placed a hand behind the tired young man's back, supporting him as he attempted to remain upright. Ichigo closed his eyes, not bothering to look up at the man.
"… Zangetsu…" Ichigo grunted, his voice barely more than a whisper.
The man – Zangetsu – nodded, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses as Ichigo brought a hand up to his face, rubbing one of his eyes slightly. "Are you feeling OK?" the Zanpakutō Spirit inquired quietly.
"… Yeah…" the orange-haired Substitute Shinigami lied.
"… You're lying…" Zangetsu frowned.
Ichigo was silent for a few seconds before he let out a mirthless chuckle. "… Was it that obvious…?"
With a slight nod, Zangetsu looked around himself, taking note of the state of disrepair that their environment had fallen into. The buildings that were once a bright, clean white were now greying, filthy and dilapidated. The once-blue sky was grey and overcast with bright flashes of lighting and the occasional roll of thunder sounding high above their heads. A bitter-cold wind blew past them, forcing the Zanpakutō Spirit to pull his cloak around him tightly to fight off the cold.
Ichigo shivered slightly, but didn't seem to completely register how cold he felt. "… What happened…?" he inquired tiredly.
"Your body has been invaded by a foreign Reiatsu. Your Hollow-self and I are doing our best to fend it off. You need to be strong for us while we work…" He paused, waiting for Ichigo's response. When it didn't come, he gave him a prod in the right direction. "OK?"
Ichigo finally and slowly nodded, but his empty eyes and the fact that he didn't seem to register what had been said at all worried Zangetsu slightly. Pushing that thought to the back of his mind, he turned as a voice called over from a nearby building. Ichigo's Hollow form – a white version of himself with black sclera and piercing golden irises – had appeared, standing high above them on another building, a white replica of Zangetsu's Shikai form in his hands.
"Get ready!" he shouted, a maniacal smirk playing across his features as he did so. "He's coming!"
"Calm down!" Zangetsu called back as a Bankai version of himself – a black daitō, the crossguard of which consisted of four prongs that were bent to form the maji, the hilt bearing a black, broken chain. "This is no time to be frivolous!"
"Nonsense!" The white Ichigo's grin widened, his eyes glinting with bloodlust as he turned to stare out at the landscape in front of him, his eyes falling on a figure in the distance.
It didn't move… yet, it watched…
It said nothing… yet, it watched…
It had no eyes… yet it watched…
The tall man… watched…