Author's Note: Sorry this update was kind of slow, I've actually been very busy. I get the impression, though, that my IchiHitsu fics are the only ones around that are updated regularly and frequently?

As the sirens screamed, and as red light flashed through the window, a thought suddenly struck Ichigo.

Calling the ambulance had been a really, really, really, bad idea.

First of all, Hitsugaya was not in his gigai. They'd be unable to see him, and anyways, healing his gigai would be of no use to his physical being. Secondly, according to the government, Hitsugaya Toshiro was a nonexistent person. He had no legal documentation to his name - no papers, no forms, no registrations, no documents, no certificates of birth. They'd pobably assume him to be an illegitimate child, the product of an unplanned pregnancy, perhaps, or maybe even an illegal immigrant. At any case, it would be troublesome, and letting Soul Society's 4th Division take care of the predicament would be much more effective, but Ichigo was scared that there would not be enough time for a medical relief squad to arrive on the scene before something bad happened.

As he glanced desperately throughout the room for a solution, his eyes ran directly over Orihime.

Aha!

Why not ask her to reject his current state?

He wasn't sure if it was possible, but it would have to work. Nothing else would be suitable, given the incapability of a real world hospital to treat him, and given the tiny time frame they had avaiable to wait for help from Soul Society.

"Rangiku-san! Can you tell those guys outside that everything's fine now?"

Matsumoto raised an eyebrow. "Are you crazy!? Then who's going to help taichou, huh!?"

"Just do it!" Ichigo snapped. "I'll explain everything later! Renji, Ikkaku, Yumichika - Can you three do me a big favor and clean up this mess? Plastic Surgery Boy...You...You just sit quietly like a good boy. Inoue, I want you to come with me."

"Kurosaki-kun? What's-"

"No time to explain," Ichigo cut her off as he lifted Hitsugaya's lifeless form, standing up and carrying the boy bridal style. "We've got to hurry."

"O-Okay!"

The two of them hurried into the guest bedroom as the rest scrambled to do as told (with the exception of Kusaka, of course, who had suddenly discovered that the silicone implanted in his nose from plastic surgery was making his face itch, and his undivided attention was focused soley on scratching it). Upon arrival, Ichigo placed Hitsugaya upon the bed, throwing the covers over him. Best to keep him warm and comfortable.

"Inoue, can you heal him?"

Orihime looked from Hitsugaya, to Ichigo, to Hitsugaya again, and then back to Ichigo.

Now, Orihime may have looked cute and innocent from the outside, so it is understandable if one was unable to predict her inner side, which was actually screeching, What the hell is this shit!? Why do I have to help the midget!? He stole Kurosaki-kun from me! God dammit...I want to fucking slap something. Hey, Tsubaki. Yeah, you. Get your nigger ass over here so I can smack you to hell. Are you listening to me, Tsubaki!? Dammit, listen to me! You're MY bitch so you'd better listen or I'll get the insect repellent and spray it up your fucking ass!

Ichigo took her hesitation as a bad sign. "Inoue, please," he anxiously impored. "Please do this... for me."

Ah, those were the magic words.

Orihime slowly nodded. "O-Okay. I'll do it."

"Thanks, Inoue," Ichigo grinned. "You're the best of the best, you know that?"

Hell yeah, I know that, foo'.

Smiling obliviously, Ichigo continued, "Great. Just do your best. I'm going down real quick to check to see if Rangiku-san's convinced them to leave. I'll be back in a sec."

As he turned to leave, the familiar golden glow, a sign of Orihime at work, told him that his dear little ice prince was in good hands. "I'm counting on you, Inoue," he added cheerfully before departing, darkly making a mental note to himself: If that bitch screws up and can't help Toshiro, I'm going to rip out her hair and make a wildebeast costume out of it.

As he hurried down the stairs, he was relieved to find no presence of flashing sirens and no incessant screaming of the sirens. Ikkaku, Yumichika, and Renji were stowing away the empty beer bottles in trash bags.

"Is he going to be alright?"

"Yeah, Inoue's taking care of-" He stopped abruptly, narrowing his eyes and turning to its source. "Why do you care anyway, Plastic Surgery Boy? You didn't care before, why should you care now?"

"Because," Kusaka huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, "Because I still fucking love him. That's fucking why, carrot top. Mind your own business."

"If you love him so much, then get off your lazy ass and go aplogize to him! It's your fault he's in this mess!"

"Fine," Kusaka retorted coldly. "Fine. I fucking will, then."

"Fine!"

"You fucking retard! I just said that!"

"No, I just said it, dumbass!"

"You said it after I fucking did! Shut up!"

"Liar!" Ichigo accused. "I don't have time to argue with you. I'm going to check on Toshiro." With that, he turned tail and marched away, back up the stairs, back to the guest bedroom.

He peered in cautiously.

The light was gone, Orihime was dusting her hands off, and much to his relief, Ichigo could see Hitsugaya's chest rising and falling softly as his lungs took in the sweet, fresh air.

"T-Toshiro! You're okay!" the delighted strawberry yelped as he immediately hopped to Hitsugaya's side, smiling ear to ear. "Ah, Inoue, you're great. I owe you for this, really."

"I-It was nothing.."

Ichigo peered at Hitsugaya, whose eyes were still closed, but at the presence of Ichigo's beyond obvious reiatsu, slowly opened.

"You okay, Toshiro?"

"Ichigo...?"

"Y-Yeah, it's me. How're you feeling? Is there anything I can get for you? Look, how about I go get you some water...?"

As he turned to fetch the water he had spoken of, he was suddenly stopped in his tracks as Hitsugaya feebly reached out and grabbed hold of his hand, his delicate fingers barely able to keep their weak grip.

"Stay," he rasped in an almost desperate, pleading voice. "You promised me…"

This was rather scary to Ichigo. Although Orihime had worked her abilities for him, the usually haughty voice was substantially weaker. His face seemed to be pale as a ghost, quite ironically, and his eyes were still clouded with the negative effects of alcohol. By this point, Ichigo was already starting to consider the possibility of liver problems brought about by the round of excessive drinking that Kusaka and Matsumoto had induced.

"You said so yourself. You said you wouldn't leave me."

"Yeah. I s'pose you're right," Ichigo sighed. He seated himself alongside the boy, stroking the white locks of hair fondly and placing a soft kiss on his forehead. "Don't worry. Go to sleep, okay? When you wake up, everything's going to be fine-"

"You sound like my grandmother."

"…"

"…"

That kind of killed the moment right there.

There was an awkward pause, as Ichigo was unsure how to respond to such a sudden and fluff-killing statement in a tactful fashion. Although he was severely tempted to say, "Your mom sounds like your grandmother."

At that moment, the door opened with a loud creak, Kusaka standing in the doorframe, arms crossed impatiently over his chest.

"Get lost, carrot top. I want to talk to Toshiro."

"Then talk to him."

"In private, you fucking retard. I want to talk to him in private."

"Oh, so it's some grand secret, I suppose?" Ichigo demanded sarcastically.

"No! I just don't want you to fucking listen! Get the hell out."

"Look, Plastic Surgery Boy, I was here first, okay? You can talk to him after I'm done, sound fair?"

Kusaka's fingers at the hilt of his zanpaku-to told Ichigo that he didn't think that sounded fair at all. The strawberry gulped, giving Hitsugaya a worried look.

"Ichigo, I'm sorry, but you'll have to give us a moment," the white-haired boy responded.

Ichigo gritted his teeth, but merely nodded. "Fine," and he was out the door, giving Kusaka a warning glare: Touch him and I'll kick your ass all the way back to Hueco Mundo, freak.

After the door had closed, Ichigo instantly sprang forward again, quietly pressing his ear against it, determined to hear every word that Kusaka had in mind to say.