Look at me
Chapter six: To retaliate

A/N: I know I said I wanted to 'fuck shit up' and bring in some angst between the characters in this chapter, and although there IS angst in here; I don't think it's quite what you guys had expected. (Because it wasn't what I intended/had in mind when I first said that in the first place.) So as a fair warning, the first half of this chapter or so does not involve either of our protagonists (Ichigo and Ishida) but their fathers instead. Enjoy~

-X-

When he had first heard the news from his son, he hadn't really known what to expect, or what his reaction would be. He could still recall the morning it happened; how he had barged into the teenager's room with his trademark morning greeting, accompanied by a flying kick to his son's face. (For training purposes only, of course; one must keep their child on their toes at all times!)

He should have known immediately though, when his feet connected with his son's body that something was up. However, there were many times where Ichigo wasn't fast enough or feeling well enough to avoid his attacks and as a result, had gotten hit. So that was why at first, he hadn't really noticed the change in atmosphere as quickly as he should have.

"You've gone soft on me again, haven't you?" Isshin questioned, his loud voice booming throughout the room as he landed on his feet after kicking the other over. Placing his hands onto his hips, a wide smirk stretched across his lips as he stared the other down.

"Shut up…" Was the mumbled reply he had received as Ichigo pushed the covers off of his frame and slowly began to stand.

"I won't allow any son of mine to be so careless! Prepare yourself for another attack!" Lifting his foot quickly, Isshin swung his leg in aim for the others' own and—to his surprise, managed to knock the teenager down once more.

It was then that he realized something was wrong. Looking down at the teen, he watched as a scowl that seemed forced, formed upon Ichigo's features. Not only that, but as Ichigo rubbed the back of his head and sat up, he made no move to retaliate, or get back up on his feet as he usually would and commence with payback.

Frowning, Isshin took a few steps closer to the boy and stood silently before him until the other finally tipped his chin upwards and glanced up.

"Was there something you wanted to tell me, Ichigo?"

It was clear that, after that—when all his son did was frown up at him and close his eyes that something terrible must have happened. But out of everything that he could think of—ranging from Ichigo's powers, all the way to a lost friend, he hadn't been expecting what he had been told. How not only a friend of Ichigo's, but the son of someone that was close to himself as well—had lost his memories. At first he couldn't comprehend it—and had chuckled in disbelief. But when his son's chocolate coloured hues glanced up at him, showing nothing but sadness and regret, he knew that it was true. Ichigo wasn't lying about that sort of thing and really, he hadn't expected him to. It was merely the thought of breaking the news to his fellow colleague that had made him falter at first, and he now regretted it for not truly being there to support Ichigo from the moment he felt down.

Letting out a breath, the brunette ran a hand through his hair as he slowly opened his eyes. Glancing up at the door which lead to a familiar office, he simply stood there for a few moments; as he had been doing for a while, lately. Ichigo had made it clear that Ryuken didn't know—that when Ishida had gotten injured they had immediately brought him to Urahara due to how bad it had looked. He didn't blame his son though, really—for that was probably the wisest decision. He wouldn't want to mess up on that sort of thing (even if he did pride himself in his healing career) and wouldn't want to see the look on Ryuken's face when he once more was faced with his injured son, laying there helplessly before him. That and—feeling the reiatsu and knowing it was a hollow attack, most likely would have set Ryuken off afterwards.

But now he was left with the task of telling Ryuken what had happened. Ichigo of course, had told him everything—including how the hollow had attacked him at first. He knew how Ichigo must have felt, dealing with the aftermath—how he was still dealing with it, so he promised not to go into too much detail when he finally explained to Ryuken why his son wasn't exactly around much lately. (That being in school and roaming the streets of Karakura town.) For as much as Ryuken liked to deny it, Isshin knew the male kept a close eye on his son every now and then. It was just how parenting worked; they shared that factor in common.

Sucking in a long breath, he reached up to knock on the others' door (deciding to be more formal than usual, considering this was serious) he blinked when the voice sounded from the other side, signaling the other had already known—and for quite some time now, that he had been there.

"What do you want, Isshin?"

Shaking his head, a soft smile graced the ex-Shinigami's features as he glanced to his left and then his right. Watching as the many individuals who roamed the hospital's halls made their way by, he decided not to speak from the other side of the door and instead grasped the door's handle, and turned it so that he could walk inside.

It didn't take long for him to spot the other, sitting on the far side of the room, at his desk. A lone smoke could be seen, hanging from the Quincy's parted lips as blue irises skimmed over a few medical charts from behind his frames.

Approaching the other slowly, he slid a hand into his pocket as he remained silent.

"Can't a friend randomly pop in to check on another without wanting something?" Finally speaking after a moment's pause, he waited as ice coloured orbs glanced up in his direction for a moment; their narrowed slits calculating, yet stern.

"No. Now don't make me repeat myself."

Rolling his eyes in the slightest, the small smile which had previously graced the Shinigami's features then widened a fraction, before he once more began to move around the other; to sit upon the corner of the archer's desk. Expression suddenly becoming serious, the older of the two men within the room then pressed his lips together firmly as he glanced down at his long time friend. "Well, I came here to tell you something anyways, so…" He murmured, averting his gaze for a moment as he trailed off. The quick response the other threw at him almost made him laugh, however—he held it in, for sake of how serious the conversation would soon get.

"I figured as much."

Letting out a soft breath, Isshin glanced down at the bespectacled director as he reached towards him. Placing the flat of his hand against the pile of paperwork the other was clearly giving a once-over, he met the others' slightly irritated stare with a serious one of his own. Despite the fact he knew Ryuken was faltering at the look, the male didn't show any signs of curiosity and instead leaned back in his chair. Watching as the white haired male then reached into the pocket of his lab coat to pull out a cigarette, he allowed the other time to do so and light up as he leaned back upon the desk.

"What is it then, Isshin? I haven't got all day."

"I know that." He retorted, keeping his voice calm—despite the fact that he felt rushed. But then again, he was rather used to this sort of now. (After all, Ryuken was never really a patient man.) Tapping his fingers gently against one of his legs, he then shifted once more and decided that he felt more comfortable, standing. Leaning against the side of the desk as he did so, he glanced down at the others' calm expression as he watched the younger male suck in a drag before exhaling slowly in his direction. Meeting Ryuken's gaze once more, he decided that a different approach would be necessary if he wanted things to move in a more smooth direction. (Or as smooth as it would go, considering the subject…)

"It's about Uryu, Ryuken." He spat out suddenly as he held the others gaze. Instead of a falter which he had assumed this one would bring on, the reaction he received was the raising of one curious white eyebrow as Ryuken extended his arm to remove the cigarette from between his parted lips.

"Is that so? What sort of foolish nonsense has he gotten himself into this time?"

"Ryuken…" A bit upset that the other wasn't taking this topic a bit more seriously, the tone of his voice was probably evident, due to the response he got from the other, simply by uttering his name.

"Well what else is new, Isshin? It's always something or another that he's gotten himself into; and in the end, it's rather obvious as to why you would come to me. Not for the fact that I am his father, but because I am a doctor, correct?" A white brow rose once more as he tapped the end of the cigarette into the ashtray. "Or is it some other form of idiotic nonsense that you wish for me to be a part of? Something to do with school and whatnot?"

"Ryuken!"

Chest rising and falling at a slightly faster pace, Isshin held in his breath as he relaxed his arms. He hadn't meant to yell, but he knew that once Ryuken got like this—he would stray from the original topic and things wouldn't come out as seriously as they needed to be said. His son had lost his memories for heaven's sake, and he didn't know it yet. Isshin wasn't about to go letting the other put his son down verbally, only to later on feel guilt about the entire thing—after realizing what this conversation was really about.

Clenching his hands into light fists at his sides, he watched as a confused and slightly annoyed expression then laced the archer's features as Ryuken's eyebrows furrowed whilst he looked up at him.

"What do you want to tell me then, Isshin?"

Even though it wasn't a drastic change, the tone of Ryuken's voice was far more calm, and noticeably more determined. Letting out the breath that he had been holding in slowly, Isshin closed his eyes after a moment before lifting his lids to look the other in the eyes—as he spoke as carefully as he could. "I heard from Ichigo yesterday, Ryuken… It seems as though Uryu's lost quite a bit of his memories…"

As silence filled the room, one could almost describe the aura as suffocating. Blue irises soon narrowed as the doctor gazed upon the Shinigami, a dry look upon his features as he aimed a slight glare in Isshin's direction. He was silent for a moment, his hand pressing against the cigarette bud he still held as he ground it slowly into the ashtray; before ever so quietly his lips began to part as he spoke evenly to break the silence. "This isn't a very funny joke, Isshin." Choosing his words carefully, just in case—the doctor's skeptical gaze held strongly onto the elder's own.

"It's not a joke, Ryuken." The brunette replied simply, a small frown forming upon his lips as his eyes filled with guilt. After he had said those few words, he had expected something—anything. However no such reaction came from the white haired male, aside from him shifting slowly in his seat as he narrowed his eyes.

"I see…"

"Ryuken, I—"

"You don't have to explain yourself, Isshin. I understand completely." Rising from his chair, the Quincy reached over to grasp his lab coat as he slipped it on, over top of his clothing. Ignoring the confused stare, and sputtering Isshin as he began to adjust his collar and move towards the door, Ryuken simply paused for a moment which caused the other to stop, midst-step as he gave the other a firm look.

"I have patients I need to tend to, as do you—I'm sure. This can be discussed later, on different terms when our work has been completed."

"But—"

"That's enough, Isshin. I've already spoken."

Frown forming upon his features, the brunette parted his lips to speak—only to slowly begin to slide them shut. Giving a small, curt nod, he watched as the Quincy exited the room quickly, the door swinging shut behind him as it created a small breeze. Sighing slowly, the male closed his eyes—shaking his head once more as he reached upwards. Rubbing the heel of his palm against his forehead, he couldn't help but wonder—

Out of the two of them, how did Ryuken become the stubborn one?

-X-

Shifting from where he sat, cross-legged on the couch—the archer's brows furrowed slightly as he tapped the end of his pencil idly against his lower lip.

Missing two years of school, mentally—didn't seem to do him much harm. Of course, there were occasional problems for certain classes of homework here and there that he didn't understand; but after pausing for a moment to do a bit of research, it all became clear. Obviously it paid off to be the top in his class—seeing as if he had been a delinquent that slacked off, his life would have been made a hell of a lot worse. (Not that he'd ever let himself stoop so low.) But the social aspect of the two years he missed… had proven to be quite a problem.

New faces that had arrived months into different school years that he had no recollection of had spoken to him quite a few times—much to his chagrin. And not only that, but he had also somehow managed to become the Student Council's president at Karakura High. (Which meant even more names and faces to remember, in a small amount of time.) He didn't necessarily mind, however—in fact, he felt rather honored and pleased with himself for gaining such a title. It was simply because he had so much on his plate at the moment (plus, no one at school knew about his loss of memory) that he found it rather stressful, rather than a good thing.

Letting out a quiet breath, Ishida shook his head and lightly scribbled down the last answer to the bit of homework that he had missed while he was 'away'. Rolling his arm afterwards, as it gave him a small jolt of pain—the archer grit his teeth for a moment before finally giving in for the first time today, as he headed towards the kitchen to grab a glass of water and his pill.

Despite the fact that Orihime could heal rather well—as well as Urahara for that matter, his arm remained injured. Because of the side effects, as well as the fact they had to extract the hollow's poison (or so he heard) from a more sensitive part of the arm (where if hit in the wrong places, could have left his arm immobile) he was left bandaged. Not that he minded, particularly—seeing as he had experienced worse; it was simply the restricted movement the bandages caused, on top of the pills he had to take every now and then—that irked him greatly.

Nonetheless, he did it without complaint—seeing as he knew that getting better physically, was the best option for him. (And as quickly as possible, at that.) So popping the pill from its plastic container, he placed it onto the back of his tongue as he opened a bottle of water and slowly tilted his head backwards before taking a sip and swallowing.

Coughing afterwards as he almost choked—the sudden knock which sounded at the door had startled him. Eyebrows knitting tightly together, he wiped his mouth off using the back of his sleeve, as he then placed the bottle down and moved to exit the kitchen.

He had almost made it to the door, when he finally felt the familiar bit of reiatsu—and recognized it. Staring for a moment, his arm outstretched and fingers merely inches from the door's handle; he then stared for a moment longer before furrowing his brows together once more as he glared.

"What do you want, Ryuken?"

"Is that how you're supposed to speak to your father?"

The response he had gotten after yelling through the closed door was immediate, and predictable. Finding the sense of familiarity somewhat comforting—even If he wouldn't admit it, he shook his head quickly to rid it of such thoughts before he folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the door. "Why are you here, Ryuken?"

"One would think the answer was fairly obvious, or have you forgotten the fact that you've lost a bit of your memory as well? Correct me now and tell me that I am the one who is misinformed."

Staring for a moment, his glare hardening as he eyed the closed door—Uryu resisted the urge to yell at the other, to tell him that he was, in fact, incorrect; but he knew the other would catch on quickly, and recognize his words as a lie.

Reaching forwards, he grasped the handle and turned it quickly—only giving them enough room to see each other, face-to-face. "Who told you?" He asked stubbornly, his lips pursing together as he glanced up at the others' face—noticing that even though he was missing two years of his memory; Ryuken hadn't seemed to change all that much. His hair was still white as he remembered—however the silver areas he once had, now a permanent snow colour. His eyes, still menacingly blue, their cold gaze somewhat more narrowed with wrinkles forming in the corners of his eyelids; but no changes were too major.

As much as he hated the thought, he was somewhat thankful that at least something was just as he remembered it.

"Who else would I have heard it from?" He asked with a raised brow. "Kurosaki Isshin."

Sarcasm and bitterness—most definitely as he remembered him.

Allowing his creased brows to relax somewhat, he stepped aside and reluctantly opened the door the rest of the way. Watching as the elder Quincy entered the room—he frowned upon feeling the familiar Quincy spiritual pressure; still not entirely sure how he felt about remembering that Ryuken had been the one to help him regain his powers.

When the room became silent, he watched as the older male slid his hand into his pocket and turned to face him. Shutting the door quickly and quietly, he then shifted a bit on his feet—before walking around the other and making his way towards his supplies which were still set out, resting upon the couch's cushions. Ignoring Ryuken's lingering stare, he simply set about getting to the point, as he glanced up at the other and adjust his glasses. "What did you come here for then, Ryuken? If it was just for affirmation, I believe you're good to go." Picking up an armful of his supplies, he began to carry them towards his bag, which was resting against the small stand on the other side of the room. Pausing, if only for a moment as he heard the others' answer—he held in the glare which threatened to resurface.

"Obviously I am here to make sure you're not completely helpless on your own."

"Well I'm not helpless, Ryuken. So be on your way." Shoving the books into his bag, he turned his body and angled himself towards the couch. Picking up the few pencils he had out, as well as erasers; he placed them within the small zip-up pencil case he owned as he made his way back towards his bag. When he faltered for a moment, he paused midst-step as his arm began to ache once more. Cursing silently under his breath that the pill had yet to kick in, he grit his teeth together in attempts to ignore the sudden wave of dizziness that was then brought on as well.

Keeping his stare firm, the eldest of the two Quincies then slid his free hand into his pocket, in mimics of the first. Even though he knew the other was right in saying such, to some extent—the obvious discomfort the other was feeling at the moment, was not hid from the doctor's searching eyes. Stepping towards the young teenager, he remained silent as the other moved; waiting for the moment when It would become apparent to the younger that Ryuken was well aware of his situation. "If you aren't helpless, then why did you stop?"

"I was taking a break, is that not allowed?" Snapping immediately after in retaliation to the others words, Ishida blinked as his eyes then met the others' gaze—before he looked away quickly. He hated the fact that he could tell when Ryuken knew something he did not want him to know, which also happened to be right now. Despite the fact he was in a small amount of pain, he didn't care that he was living alone—because he knew that he could handle things quite well by his lonesome. However, he wasn't sure what Ryuken's plans were, should he find out that he was less than capable, living on his own. (For what he assumed was capable enough, could be the complete opposite in Ryuken's eyes.)

"If you're taking a break out of drowsiness, you should go in for a check-up. Just because a Shinigami says you're good enough to move back on your own, doesn't mean you are. Had I not taught you better than to believe everything a soul reaper says?"

Gritting his teeth once more, the archer ground his jaw together. "I'm perfectly fine, Ryuken." Continuing on his way towards his bag, he slowly began to kneel. "Besides, I don't need… your…" Swaying a bit as his vision suddenly became blurred, the headache which he had grown accustomed to earlier, had returned once more—causing his head to throb. His hand faltered in placing the case into his back-pack, and as he moved to stand once more, he slipped.

Strong arms soon wrapped themselves around the archer's waist—catching him just in time, as he fell. Leaning back against the strong chest unintentionally, a shaky breath then escaped Uryu's parted lips as he felt himself being lifted from nearly inches above the ground. Looking up at Ryuken, he attempted to shrug himself from the others' hold—only to be held a bit more tightly until he was standing completely upon his feet.

Glaring at the older male, irritated that he had come to catch him; he quickly dusted his hands off on his shirt as he gave it a small tug.

"What was it that you did not need from me, Uryu? My help, perhaps?"

Hating the amount of smugness that was clearly evident in the others' tone, Uryu directed his gaze elsewhere as he glared at nothing in particular and folded his arms across his chest. "Shut up, Ryuken. I don't need your help. Just because you managed to witness one of my few moments of weakness, doesn't mean I need you around to help me." As soon as the words escaped him, he knew that there was something in there the other would catch—and turn his words against him.

"Few?" Ryuken repeated, raising an eyebrow. "So this happens more than once?"

Letting out a long, irritated breath, Ishida averted his glare and aimed it towards the other as his upper lip threatened to twitch upwards, in a snarl. "Yes, if you must know—it's happened a few times. However I have managed to deal with it on my own up until now, so I still am in no need of your assistance." Turning away from the other, he began to head towards the door as he opened it once more and gestured. "So as I said earlier, Ryuken—you may go."

"I believe that dizziness and fainting is common only when one over-exerts themselves, after losing their memory." Ignoring the others' words, as well as positioning—Ryuken made his way towards the couch and picked up one of the pencils that Uryu had neglected to grasp. "If that's the case, and you're over-exerting yourself—as a doctor, I cannot allow that." Turning to face the other once more, he leveled his stare with the others' as his expression remained stoic.

"And what exactly are you hinting at, Ryuken?" Narrowing his eyes dangerously, he could almost hear the others' words in his head, before they were spoken. As much as he had missed, memory-wise; Ryuken wasn't all that difficult to figure out, or anticipate. But no matter how hard he would retaliate to this, or argue, or refuse—he knew that in the end, with Ryuken's simple answer, his fate was sealed.

"As both your father, and a doctor—I will not allow you to remain living alone, Uryu."

-X-

To be continued!