Part 3


Winter gradually transitioned to early spring and still Uryuu had not discovered the counterspell. Even with the help of his witch friend in the village via the delivery of lengthy correspondence every other week, they were no closer to restoring the former prince to his former glory. Yet, the scholar never lost his determination. If anything, repeated failure seemed to fuel his enthusiasm and ingenuity.

They had been getting along much better after the incident in the forest. Whether that was due to a shift in his guest's attitude or the host's, Ichigo could not have said for certain. All that really mattered was they were talking and interacting more often than bickering and sulking. The beast had finally come to accept that he would most likely not be the cause of Uryuu's untimely demise, and that made things between them incredibly smoother. As a result, he didn't mind as much the notion that his cure remained out of reach for the time being, as long as the scholar remained with him.

Then late one evening after indulging in a fine repast and a little too much wine, Ichigo ruined everything.

Uryuu occupied the armchair across from his in the study, a crackling fire in the hearth beside them to ward against night's chill. They both held goblets of mulled wine, more than once refilled, and it warmed them more thoroughly than any blaze could ever do. Ichigo would have shed his cloak, had he not already taken to leaving it in his quarters more often than not. The scholar, on the other hand, had abandoned both his jacket and vest. Further, long sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and the laces of a high collar had been unthreaded to expose his throat and a bit of his chest.

Though it was far from indecent, it was the most the beast had ever seen of Uryuu's bare skin and it was putting strange ideas into his head. He knew he should have excused himself and gone straight to his chambers, but…

"I've been meaning to ask you something," he abruptly told Ichigo, "Although I think I can guess the answer. Do you have any servants in the castle—mundane or magical? Someone to do the cleaning, cooking, groundswork, and so forth?"

"Have you been envisioning indentured elves or enslaved gnomes scurrying about unseen doing the housekeeping?"

Uryuu laughed and Ichigo swallowed hard at the mesmeric sight and sound of it. He shook his head and said, "Well, I have noticed that meals are being made and the laundry at least is getting done. However, I can't imagine such efficient creatures would fail to scrub the entire castle spotless. Majestic though your abode may be, pristine it is not."

The beast couldn't disagree with that. Nodding, he ruefully admitted, "I am the only 'servant' in this keep."

"How?" Uryuu abandoned his goblet to the side table and leaned forward in interest. "I have never once caught you preparing food or washing clothing."

"Most of it gets done in the night," he shrugged, then finished the last of his drink in one hearty swig. "I don't sleep much—sometimes not at all—and I find the simple routine of chores to be relaxing."

Concern bled into Uryuu's blithe countenance as he cautioned, "Sleep is very important, Ichigo, even for cursed princes. You should try harder to get proper rest."

He eyed his guest lasciviously, thinking he would sleep much more soundly indeed with the comely scholar sharing his bed. The stray observation was equally shocking and enticing. Ichigo toyed with the stem of his empty goblet for a moment before setting it aside. His gaze locked with Uryuu's as he took a steadying breath.

"I've been meaning to tell you something," began the beast in a low, smooth cadence, "Although I fear it may be obvious to one as perceptive as you."

"What might that be?" he prompted with a playful curve to his lips.

"I find you to be exceedingly pleasant company and…an exceptionally attractive man." The scholar's smile fell away in surprise but Ichigo forged on, "In fact, I would enjoy nothing more than spending the whole night together, and you could see to it yourself that I get all the rest I should…or shouldn't have."

It was subtle, he thought. Subtle enough not to offend but clear enough to convey what he truly wanted from Uryuu—with Uryuu. Ichigo watched his expression carefully, and witnessed the exact moment when it sunk in. The flush of heat and wine left his face, leaving it pale as parchment. His eyes widened and his mouth parted on an inaudible gasp. There and gone, hastily covered by a neutral veneer, but the beast had seen that look enough times to recognize it in a flash. Horror. Uryuu was horrified by the proposal as he had never been by Ichigo's appearance alone. So much so that his effortless eloquence was lost in lieu of awkward stammering.

"Something like th-that is…if you are s-suggesting that I…that we could…" He swallowed, sipped a strained breath, and resolutely continued, "No, i-it…it is out of the question."

Uryuu looked sharply away and his flush came back, stronger than ever. Despair warred with insult, and Ichigo settled somewhere in between. He knew better than to lash out, but old habits were so hard to break.

"Don't act as if it is the most appalling offer you have ever heard!"

"I'm not! It's just…well, you didn't have to blindside me with it!"

"So, if I had worked up to it more carefully you would have consented?"

"Of course not, but—"

"Oh, of course not," Ichigo cried, springing from the chair and throwing up his hands, "It's out of the question. Because who could ever deign to lie with such a ghastly monster!?"

Rising in turn, Uryuu snapped, "Do not put words in my mouth!"

"As much time as we've spent together, there is no need for words to let it be known," the beast growled with narrowed eyes. "If you find me so revolting, why not leave? Go back to your grandfather and your witch and your quaint little village!"

"You know why I have stayed despite an unending succession of utter failures to reverse your condition," darkly replied the agitated scholar. "Pretending otherwise is pointless. Just because I won't do that sort of thing does not mean—"

"Hypocrite! Haven't you been pretending from the start? Pretending to help, pretending to care. Pretending you haven't abhorred me from the moment you set eyes on me. You are the same as all the others. They are just honest about it."

Uryuu's features contorted through a series of emotions: disbelief, sadness, anger. His jaw clenched tightly and his eyebrows gathered with all the foreboding of an encroaching thunderstorm. Ichigo knew he had gone too far, that he was going to regret everything he had already said, but he was hurting far too much to stop himself now.

"How can you even think that of me?"

"You claimed as much the day we met, didn't you? That my curse intrigued the brilliant scholar. That you wanted to study the beast of legend. Every nice thing you have said or done since has only been to assure I stick around long enough to let you solve the puzzle!"

For the first few seconds, the sudden sound was more jarring than the action. Then his cheek began to sting where Uryuu had slapped him and his stomach sank through the floor like an anchor into the sea. Ichigo wanted to call out and keep him from storming off but his voice refused to emerge past the guilt welling in his throat.


That night, the beast was beset by a new brand of nightmare than usual. One in which he zealously violated the vulnerable scholar who had so callously rebuffed him earlier in the evening.

Ichigo wasn't fully himself in the dream. Rather, he was entirely the Beast, body and mind. As such, his limited conscience and tenuous compassion were definitively absent. He had no sense of remorse when he burst into Uryuu's chambers and stalked straight over to the bed. There was no twinge of concern when his guest jerked awake with a startled gasp. He sat up and relaxed only marginally to discern the intruder's identity.

"What is it? What are you doing in my room?"

"You were warned not to stay and yet here you remain. I have grown tired of merely watching and wanting, Uryuu, and now I will have you."

With that he lunged, only to be held at bay by a drawn dagger prudently concealed beneath the pillow. Ichigo gazed hungrily down at the man he was braced above, an extra dash of respect only increasing his desire. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly slid his fingers along Uryuu's arm to clasp around the wrist holding a poised blade. The beast tugged it a little closer toward his own chest and smirked at the alarmed noise its wielder made.

"Have you lost all sense?" he scolded Ichigo. "Will you force me to finish the job you cannot?"

"Go ahead and pierce my heart, if you can bring yourself to do it. Nothing else will stop me from claiming you at last."

Indignation gave way to incredulity, then desperation. The beast's cold smile spread to see his resistance crumbling so swiftly. He brought the dagger closer still, until the point of it touched his bone-white skin. Blue eyes flared as they darted from yellow down to the precarious intersection of metal and flesh.

"Ichigo!"

"Use it!" The harsh order was emphasized by a bead of blood emerging from the barest pressure. Uryuu sucked in a stilted breath and pulled weakly, indecisively at the hilt to keep it from slicing deeper. "…Or toss it aside and let me have my fill."

Ichigo's steady grip left his, and immediately the weapon began shaking between them. The scholar's will was wavering, that much was clear, but even he did not know for sure which action Uryuu would choose. Far from fear, the beast felt exhilaration. One way or another, his suffering would cease. At least for the night, if not for good.

"What manner of choice is this?" Uryuu hissed as a spark of outrage returned, "Bastard!"

No reply was offered, only more of that chilling grin. It widened with triumph as Uryuu groaned in resignation and the dagger was reluctantly discarded off the side of the bed, a distinct clatter punctuating the augur of his action. The beast did not hesitate to start shredding his guest's fine clothes, immensely eager to access what they hid. And if the trembling of slender hands hastily spread to the rest of his unveiled figure, Ichigo spared none of his attention to notice it.

The scholar's body was even more appealing than imagined, his skin smooth and warm over firm muscle. Not a single imperfection could be found, and the more he exposed, the more his excitement mounted. The beast was careful not to scratch or bruise and risk ruining the immaculate aesthetic of such a fine form. Nor was he shy about touching wherever he pleased. Uryuu gave neither protest nor encouragement but was betrayed by a kind of instinctive language, a collection of subtle sounds and movements that responded to every move Ichigo made. Whether or not he was aware of it, Uryuu's body was communicating a certain degree of appreciation in the proceedings.

At least until the beast roughly turned him over, unwilling to catch that conflicted gaze for even an instant. He doubled his pace and the meter of their breathing grew to match. Uryuu's fingers clenched in the bedsheets as those quiet little sounds threatened to become impassioned moans—or so he chose to believe as he neared the sphere of transitory bliss. With that promise rushing forth, Ichigo was no longer concerned for his partner's pleasure, if he ever was.

Yet, he was not wholly unaffected when said partner suddenly shuddered and stilled. Ichigo knew what it meant and growled his approval, even as he continued to seek his own fulfillment at risk of Uryuu's discomfort. This was only the beginning, after all. His hunger would never be sated with one tryst alone. The beast had every intention to detain the scholar until the cold hours of the night gave way to morning's warmth once more.

Ichigo had snapped awake the next morning, extremities tingling from the dream's lingering potency. A sensation like itchy ice slithered down his spine, and for the first time he knew what others felt when they gazed upon him. It was beyond unsettled, beyond alarmed, and well beyond perturbed. The dream had left him utterly appalled. What it reflected of his subconscious was intolerable. All the evil Uryuu had been trying to convince him wasn't there, brought to the surface in one enormous wave that almost decimated what remained of his waning hope.

The most deplorable part of it all was…he was still excited.

The groan of strained fabric rose to a shriek as talons rent the blanket knotted in his grasp. Ichigo let the slivers slip through his fingers as he bent forward to make a cage of them against his mask. It should have been contorted in misery and humiliation but it was composed in the same stiff grimace as always. How could he even think of doing such things to Uryuu? Forcing him like that? The notion was so reprehensible that it made his stomach squeeze violently in protest.

Knowing it was wrong with a visceral certainty didn't stop a miniscule part of him from wishing it could have been real.

The beast hated himself for it. To such an extent that he could not bear to leave his chambers for several days. The scholar's occasional curious queries through the door were annoyed, then demanding, and finally pleading. Uryuu was understandably worried for his host's wellbeing. Meanwhile, Ichigo secretly yearned to make a mess of him in the most carnal sense. He couldn't trust himself around his guest anymore, but neither could he bring himself to cast the man out.

Day after day, Ichigo was racked with self-inflicted mental torture. Night after night, he dreamt of subjecting Uryuu to increasingly aggressive acts. By the fifth night, there was no dialogue between them anymore—only physical conversations that began with a shove and ended with the beast snapping awake, blood hot and sweat cool. Each dream left him that much more disgusted and disappointed with himself. Ichigo didn't know how to make them stop. He just wanted them to stop!

On the eighth day of his voluntary exile, the scholar's patience was at an end.

An insistent pounding on the door yanked Ichigo from morose speculation involving his open window and the four-story drop to the courtyard directly below it. He fully intended to ignore Uryuu, as he had been doing since the third day, but a strange clinking drew his attention to the locking mechanism of the polished brass handle. That sneaky bookworm was actually trying to break in! The beast scrambled out of an armchair in the corner to brace against the door.

"Uryuu, I command you to stop what you are doing this instant!" A faint scoff could be heard through the dense wood, along with more delicate tinkering. "I mean it, I don't want to see you right now!"

"That much you have made perfectly clear," he scathingly retorted from the general area of the knob. "But you are not my king, and I am not pledged to heed your commands."

Ichigo grit his teeth as his claws carved shallow crevices amid fanciful lines already decorating the door. He should have anticipated this from that stubborn idiot. Should have barricaded the portal with heavy furniture. Should have defenestrated himself days ago. Should have—

The lock clicked and the handle turned. The beast latched onto the thing as though Uryuu's life depended on it.

"I said go away! Return to your aging grandfather before he expires without ever seeing your s-stupid face again…"

His tongue tripped over the word 'stupid', as it very nearly formed the word 'perfect' instead. Well, the memory of it seemed perfect to him in his half-delirious state, anyway. Truth be told, everything about Uryuu had seemed perfect from about their second month of cohabitation. But that was exactly why he could not allow himself to sully such a perfect being with his devious inclinations.

"Ichigo, you haven't eaten in over a week! At least let me bring you a meal? Do that much and I'll leave you alone."

In spite of the man's controlled cadence, Ichigo detected the lie with ease. He knew all the scholar's expressions—visible or verbal—and he recognized reluctant duplicity when he heard it.

"I'll be fine. I'm a demon, remember? Demons don't need to eat."

A short pause communicated precisely how ludicrous Uryuu found that argument to be. He asked, "What have I done to offend you so badly that you would cower in your rooms like a frightened rodent?"

Bristling with offense, Ichigo returned, "I am not cowering!"

"If that is the case, show yourself. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to assume you are indeed cowering, O Prestigious Demon."

He rolled his eyes at Uryuu's poor attempt at manipulation. Ichigo was too tired to go on arguing or holding the door closed, however, and he knew the scholar's mind would not be changed now that he had set it to the task of seeing the beast liberated. Surely he could control himself for a few moments, just long enough to convince Uryuu he wasn't going to keel over anytime soon. Then he could go back to brooding over the declining state of his pitiful existence.

Ichigo released his hold and took a step aside to allow entry. What he did not realize was Uryuu had been gearing up for a powerful push to dislodge him, and did not anticipate his abrupt assent in the slightest. Thus, the door came flying open and Ichigo's arms were suddenly full of the disoriented scholar blinking at him quite sheepishly. They had never been this close before. A dormant portion of the beast's brain stirred at the sight, the scent, and the feel of Uryuu in his hold. It set his pulse racing from one second to the next.

"Sorry," they said simultaneously and hastily parted.

Prodding his skewed spectacles back into place, Uryuu cleared his throat and prompted, "Now, will you tell me what this childishness has been about?"

Too busy marveling at the man's delicate flush of embarrassment—oh, how he loved those!—Ichigo's reply was slow in coming. A reply delayed all the more by the fact that he could not offer the truth and was similarly hesitant to impart falsehood. He went to sit in the chair facing a large window and feigned fixation with the sunset it framed. Uryuu moved to sit on the edge of the bed nearest him, and the beast cringed to see him there after what he had been envisioning of the two of them upon it.

"It doesn't matter. As you can see, I'm fit as I ever have been so you can go about your daily activities free of concern for me."

"Who said I was concerned?" The beast sighed, failing to take the obvious bait. Uryuu immediately switched tactics, "Besides, my daily activities revolve around your supposed fitness, in case you've forgotten. What purpose has a scholar without access to his research?"

"Not my problem."

"It is your problem that brought me here in the first place."

Whipping around to glare, Ichigo grumbled, "No one asked you to come here, in case you've forgotten."

"How could I, when you've made it a point to remind me every single day?"

"Not often enough, apparently, or you would have gone home months ago." They stared each other down in unspoken dispute. Again, the beast sighed and opted to tread the path of least resistance. "Haven't you had enough of this farce, Uryuu? We both know there is no alternate method to break my curse or you would have found it. It's pointless to go on like this."

"No, I refuse to accept that. Even if there really is just the one solution, maybe we could—"

"What? Find someone to fall in love with me? Ha! You are the only person who has proven capable of abiding my presence for any length of time, and look how you reacted at the first sign of romantic interest!"

The scholar dropped his gaze and turned his head in obvious unease. He murmured, "My reaction was unwarranted and I've wanted to apologize. Insult was not my aim. It's just that I've never…Well, what I mean to say is I would have reacted the same way to anyone."

The beast watched him fidget with the loose cuffs at his wrists and assessed his remorse. Would Uryuu still be so lenient if he knew what Ichigo's unconscious mind had been doing to him? He was sincere when he said he saw no reason to continue their little experiment. He was also very weary of wanting something he could never have. At least if Uryuu returned to his village, he would not be traversing the castle's halls as constant instigation of Ichigo's perverse desires. This secret would send him running at last and the dreams would mercifully end.

"It is not you who should be apologizing. I locked myself in here because I feared what I could do to you."

"You can't be serious." His exasperated tone hinted at his spirited follow-up, "How many times have I told you I'm not some frail—"

"I know," interrupted Ichigo, shutting yellow eyes to blue gone sharp with annoyance. "I know you aren't weak or reckless or foolish enough to let something like me kill you. But you are very difficult to resist when I want so much to…And I fear that you are soft-hearted enough to let me."

"Are you implying that you would make overtures without my consent?" The melancholy gleam in his gaze confirmed it. Uryuu shook his head and vehemently denied, "Of course you wouldn't! It simply could not happen. Ichigo, I trust you."

The earnest words lodged in his chest, stinging like nettles. He was indeed the lowest creature in all the lands, having coerced this beautiful soul into trusting him. Breaking that faith would be the hardest thing he had ever done.

"I already have—a dozen times over—in dreams. Nightmares." Unwilling to see Uryuu's reaction to his confession, he looked to the dusk-darkening sky and whispered, "I used you. Sometimes even hurt you. Never once did you say 'yes'."

A crushing silence fell upon them as night fell upon the kingdom. Although he did not dare to look, Ichigo vividly imagined the repugnance with which the scholar must have been regarding him. Only once Uryuu began to slowly speak did he chance a glance.

"If it is my forgiveness you seek—"

"No, I know I don't deserve—"

"Then you have it."

Eyes flared and mouth agape, the beast struggled to croak, "What?"

"They were just dreams, as you said yourself. I can't blame you for what happens in your sleep."

Even so, any threat of Ichigo's precarious psyche unleashing the brutality held within was more than incentive enough for a parting of ways. Sensing his thoughts, Uryuu pursed his lips in mild disapproval. He settled further back on the mattress, spreading out a bit to take up more of its considerable space. His hands went to the laces at his throat and deftly plucked the knot loose. An apprehensive disquiet gathered around the beast's tightening shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

The shirt was parted widely, exposing everything from Adam's apple to just below the sternum. Uryuu leaned back on an elbow and calmly invited, "Offering to make your dreams a reality."

"Don't say that," the beast sternly ordered.

"Isn't this your heart's desire?"

"It isn't yours."

"Why should that matter? This is your castle, is it not? Your dominion, along with everything in it."

"Stop it," Ichigo menacingly ground out.

"Why not take what is rightfully yours?" He removed his glasses and brushed his hair back, adjusting a thigh to widen the welcoming stance of his hips. "If you want it so much—"

"Not like this!" he shouted, feeling his hands quake where they clung to the armrests. Ichigo's breaths came fast and shallow, making his voice hoarse as he repeated, "Not like…this. I can't, Uryuu. I can't do that to you."

"You won't," was the victorious correction, "And that is a vital distinction."

He was smiling. Ichigo couldn't believe it. Staring at the scholar, one thought steadily grew prominent over a jumbled legion.

"You are totally insane," he breathlessly told Uryuu. "Playing devil's advocate…literally. Haven't you ever heard the idiom, 'Don't poke a sleeping bear'?"

A huff of mirth was the only response. Gradually, his smile began to fade. He eyed Ichigo thoughtfully for a moment before shifting upright to adopt a sober demeanor.

"You are not the only one who has unusual dreams, you know. It appears that while you were being tormented by yours, I was being soothed by mine."

"What do you mean?"

"Every night this week, I have dreamt of a handsome man coming to my bedroom and…" Pausing awkwardly, Uryuu's flush made a faint comeback but he did not avert his gaze this time. "Well, let it suffice to say his seduction techniques were not lacking."

The last thing Ichigo wanted to hear about was the scholar with another man, real or not. He scowled and bitterly commented, "At least one of us had a nice week."

Uryuu was smiling again, but with an added teasing quirk.

"Yes, I quite enjoyed those dreams. He seemed to intuit everything I needed better than I knew it myself. He was gentle and patient, selfless where it mattered and selfish where it didn't." He bit his lip, briefly immersed in the pleasant memory. Ichigo's scowl deepened even as he felt a responsive stirring low in his stomach. "More important than what he did was what he said. Never have I heard such genuine and endearing expressions of affection."

"Maybe you could get your witch to conjure this Prince Charming into existence," the beast archly suggested.

Uryuu laughed and confirmed, "That's my plan."

That was it. The beast couldn't stand this conversation anymore. Not with the way it was making his head ache. He stood and made to leave as he replied, "Then you should go back to your village so you can meet him soon."

"Ichigo, wait!" Hurrying over to intercept at the exit, the scholar held him with a touch to his shoulder. All humor had vanished from his countenance. He said, "The man in the dream who treated me so sweetly was you. Or…your true form, perhaps? I can't be sure since you ruined all your portraits, but I've never seen anyone else with that hue of hair."

Speaking of hair, Uryuu's was still swept back from his face and his spectacles sat abandoned on the bed. His shirt was still audaciously parted and the longer Ichigo stared, the brighter his flush became. Eventually realizing his state of disarray, the scholar self-consciously secured the laces back at his throat and gave his mussed locks a couple of smoothing pats.

The beast might have laughed if he weren't still swimming in the revelation that Uryuu had been dreaming of him. Sort of. Close enough. It meant nothing if the curse could not be lifted. It meant everything if it could.


The greatsword's handle felt cold and foreign in his grip. Ichigo hefted it from the glass case and raised the giant blade in a pose fit for melee. Growing up as a future king, he'd had many lessons in swordsmanship and battle tactics, though he'd never had need of the skills. The one time they could have done any good, the prince had been too overwhelmed to utilize them. Not that a common weapon would have ever held up against a supernatural thing like Riruka.

Awkward though the sword felt in his hands, he still remembered how to wield it. Then again, it didn't require much expertise to fall on one's own blade. Ichigo carefully reversed it, setting pommel to floor and point to chest, and felt the edge biting eagerly through cloth to graze his skin. A thin trickle of blood soaked into the front of his shirt—the last one Uryuu had made for him. The fabric had been dyed a royal blue that very nearly matched its tailor's eyes.

It was Ichigo's favorite, but he couldn't boast as much because the scholar was long gone.

About a month ago, they had received a letter from Souken's neighbor warning them of the old man's declining health. The implication had been that Uryuu's grandfather was potentially on his deathbed. Of course he had to travel to the village immediately. There was no question that their quest to annul Ichigo's hex should be put on hold while he went to Souken's side. The beast would have accepted nothing less.

Yet, there he was standing in the weapons vault on the verge of breaking his vow to Uryuu. All because of that damned mirror!

The beast loathed magic of all kinds. Was it any wonder, considering what it had done to his life? But the enchanted mirror once owned by his mother was the only one he could never bring himself to break. It was also the only method he knew to check on his friend in the village and it had already been weeks with no word. Going there himself would incite panic and there was no way to summon a messenger ahead of schedule. Unwilling to wait for his usual courier's visit, Ichigo had resorted to activating the infernal object. A single glimpse would get him through the wait. It had to.

The mirror had swirled with colors that resolved into familiar shapes. It'd shown a simple scene featuring two people in mute discussion, for the silvered glass could not transmute sound as it did images. Souken was nowhere in sight. Instead, he had watched with burgeoning anguish as Uryuu chatted amiably with a pretty young woman. Bearing notable resemblance, her dark hair was neatly pleated and she wore spectacles similar to the scholar's. It was clear they were on quite close terms, if only because they wore matching smiles. She took his hand. Their eyes met and held. She murmured something and—

And Uryuu leaned forward to draw her into an ardent embrace.

A sudden shattering had gone unnoticed as Ichigo felt the last piece of his fractured heart wither into ash. Bits of broken mirror had crunched underfoot on his harried way out of the study. He had gone straight to the vault and tore open the cabinet's latched door, but he hadn't removed it right away. The beast had stared at his own reflection in the steel for hours, desperately trying to convince himself that it hadn't been what it seemed. That Uryuu had not abandoned him to be with that woman. That he would return any day now with a cure. That he'd choose to stay forever and Ichigo would never have to miss him like this again.

Alternatively, he knew he should have been happy for Uryuu. Both of their lives had been characterized by more than enough misery and loss already. If he could find happiness with that woman, who was Ichigo to condemn him for it? Still, if it meant he would be forced to live without the scholar…A swift death was better than enduring decades of the agony he felt at the very idea.

Or so he had decided by the time he finally grasped the handle of his greatsword and took it from its case.

A slight nudge of momentum, that's all it took. The shock of it erased every thought in an instant. The pain was so immense he couldn't even begin to process it for several seconds. In that interim, he felt fluid rise into his throat and a reflexive cough spattered the stone floor in vibrant red. Then it hit him, and Ichigo collapsed to his side with a harsh exhale. He felt the blood leaving him, a numbness spreading upward from his fingertips.

He felt no regret, only a powerful wish that he could have seen Uryuu's face and heard his voice one more time.

As the darkness started closing in, Ichigo almost thought he did hear his friend's voice. Calling out his name. Even though he slipped a little further into the black void swallowing him up, the voice grew louder. Louder still, along with the sound of frantic footsteps. Then the resonant thud of a heavy door carelessly flung ajar.

His eyelids parted sluggishly. The room was blurred and dim in spite of the afternoon sunlight shining through stained glass windows. Painted to mock firelight, they lent a warm amber hue to the granite walls and made the assembled armaments sparkle at intervals. It all had such a dream-like quality that the beast was not terribly astonished when Uryuu's unmistakable form drifted into his view.

Until the apparition reached out and drew the sword from his torso. The resurgence of agony granted clarity to his muddled mind, allowing him to distinguish reality from fantasy. The reality was Uryuu had returned a tad too late, and he was launching an enraged tirade at Ichigo for it.

"—cannot believe you would break your word like this after all I have done to help you! Idiot!" He had ripped off his traveling cloak, still damp from a light rain, and was pressing it firmly against the seeping wound as he continued, "Months of intense research, rigorous testing, and painstaking correspondence utterly wasted…You should have had some faith in me and held on as I'd pled! And I'd figured you to be above indulging such moronic whims…How could you do this to yourself? How could you do this to me!?"

By the end of it, his wavering voice broke completely. His breaths rasped and his hands shook where they futilely staved off death for a few moments longer. Somehow, Ichigo garnered the energy for a short response.

"Uryuu…'m sorry…"

"NO!" he yelled, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut, "You don't get to apologize! I won't forgive you this time, Ichigo. I won't—I can't—You were supposed to wait for me! Why couldn't you just wait for me?"

His words weren't bolstered by wrath anymore, but had attained a mournful lilt. The beast wanted to give him a final gift to make up for the trouble he had caused, so he said the only thing he could think of that might bring some kind of peace.

"Go be happy…with her. Forget me."

Eyes snapping open, the scholar stared down at him in blatant confusion. He started to ask a question but Ichigo was coughing up more blood and struggling to breathe. His eyes slid closed.

Uryuu grabbed the beast's shoulders and shook hard enough to bring him back from the edge of unconsciousness. He groaned but did not complain of the abuse.

"Don't you dare," he hoarsely commanded, "Don't even think of leaving, do you hear me? Open your eyes, damn it!"

There was a tinge of hysteria to his tone that made Ichigo do just that. He glanced up in time to watch the first tear fall. Another was quick to follow, and another. Uryuu growled half-heartedly as the last of his anger was subverted by sorrow. A plaintive sob was poorly masked by a muttered curse. Astonished by the depth of emotion on display, Ichigo attempted to raise a hand and confirm that he wasn't imagining those tears. He barely managed to lift it from the floor, but it was instantly seized and held with a fierce grip.

"Uryuu…"

Whatever he might have said next was eclipsed by the onset of what Ichigo could only describe as a very uncomfortable feeling emanating from the unnatural hole in his chest. It branched outward, suffusing his entire body in seconds. It hurt in a different way than the mortal wound, but it also purged him of its ache. His skin itched unbearably and grew alarmingly hot. He heard a gasp and worried whatever was happening to him might be affecting Uryuu, as well.

It stopped as quickly as it had begun. Ichigo didn't feel tired and weak anymore. He didn't feel any pain at all. In fact, he hadn't felt so comfortable in many years. His attention turned outward as Uryuu pushed up his ruined shirt to inspect the injury it concealed. His fingers brushed lightly over flesh miraculously made whole. The beast looked to the scholar for explanation, preparing to ask if he had been doused with a healing potion when he wasn't watching. The words fell right out of Ichigo's head as he caught the expression on his face.

Uryuu was smiling. It was watery, but it was there.

Without warning, he pounced on Ichigo and clung tightly to him. The scholar's trembling started to subside. Stunned by this development perhaps more than his narrow escape from death, the beast tentatively lifted his arms to complete the gesture. It was only due to the engrained habit of minding his claws that he realized they weren't there anymore.

Ichigo was smiling, too, because he knew what it must have meant.

The scholar withdrew at length, reluctantly, and helped him to his bare feet. The toes were devoid of talons and had attained a healthy peach hue to match the rest of him. He held up his arms to marvel at their normalcy. A cursory check of his face confirmed a lack of horns and skull's grimace. It had been so long since the Transformation that the memory of his own appearance was fuzzy. Suddenly, he was very upset with himself for destroying every single mirror in the castle.

"I can see why you wrecked your portraits," teased Uryuu with a touch to his cheek, "Not one of them could do these features any justice."

"Are you saying I'm handsome?" Ichigo teased right back. More seriously, he tried, "Are you saying…?"

His favorite flush appeared as the scholar glanced away in discomfiture. The levity of a life saved was squandered by a familiar bitterness. It was ridiculous to think he had a chance with Uryuu now just because he wasn't as outwardly hideous. There was still plenty of ugliness lurking on the inside.

"Ichigo, I've never—"

"It's all right. You don't have to say it. I underst—"

"Will you quit making assumptions and let me finish?" There was only a hint of Uryuu's usual sternness, but it was enough to make him snap his mouth shut and listen obediently. "I have never spared much thought for romance, preferring the company of books to most people. I never expected to develop those kinds of feelings for anyone, much less a cursed prince. I can't say with any degree of certainty that my feelings for you equal yours for me. I have never been in love, so I have nothing to compare it to. Besides, our situation is unprecedented to begin with and—"

The prince had heard enough. It was a side-effect of Uryuu's contrary nature, his roundabout way of confessing without having to admit it outright. Ichigo could accept that, but his own method was bound to be much more direct. He pulled the scholar back into his arms and gave him the briefest moment to object before claiming the kiss he had been positive he would never have. Uryuu returned it with enthusiasm, and while the prince had expected shyness, he was delighted to be proven wrong.

When they parted for air some time later, they couldn't help but stare at each other in open wonder because the passion building between them was incendiary, but the sheer emotion filling them up was even more intense.

"Please promise me," Uryuu begged in the scant space separating their mouths, "That you will never, ever put me through anything like this again. In return, I promise never to leave your side."

Ichigo agreed to that pact, readily, and kissed him once more to seal it.


Epilogue


With tears shed for the sake of true love, Riruka's black hex had been abolished at last. Getting everything else back in order, however, was no paltry feat. There was incredible news to spread, castle staff to hire, and a restored prince to crown as king. Beyond that, there was still much ground to cover before Ichigo's heart could be completely healed. Uryuu was determined to bring him that peace, even if it drove both of them half-mad in the process. Beyond even that, well…suffice it to say they had a dark fairy to hunt down, lest she ever return to muddle their lives a second time.

Uryuu had cracked her curse, as it turned out, which was why he'd been taking so long to return after helping his grandfather through a pernicious illness. He had been in the process of getting his best friend in the village to cast the complex cure over a portable charm when she'd suddenly had a dire vision of the beast's final decision.

In fact, it was only due to Lisa's magical aptitude that the king's life had been saved, and Uryuu was quick to remind him of it on more than one occasion. He was also eager to gripe that Ichigo's rash action had robbed him of the opportunity to use the counterspell he'd worked so hard to create. Ichigo would always emphasize that it was the scholar's hug with Lisa that had pushed him to it in the first place. At which point, Uryuu would scold him for spying when he should have been waiting patiently instead of doubting his intentions.

Round and round they went, impossible to stop once they got started no matter who tried to placate them. Yet, the bickering was comforting in a sense. It reminded them of the months they had spent falling in love, and how they'd both struggled so hard to hold onto each other because that unbreakable bond had been fearlessly forged. It reminded them that no matter the hardships they may have come to face, they could always rely on each other to help see them through.


THE END