Author's Note:

Here it is, I present you the final chapter of Unspeakable.

"Fuck," Yoruichi swore, pacing back and forth, circling the unconscious boy, only to stop and begin pacing again. "Fuck!"

Tessai looked at her, as calm as she was agitated.

Yoruichi ignored his gaze. "First Kisuke, now Ichigo! What was he thinking?" She stopped and glared at Ichigo, who was lying on his back on a light mattress next to Kisuke's bed.

"He can't see you, you know," Tessai commented, earning him a similar glare.

"I don't get it!" Yoruichi threw her hands up in the air. "Where'd it go? What the fuck happened?"

Tessai didn't blame her for her outburst. He was feeling just as confused and curious, except he tended to keep his feelings to himself if he could help it. He remembered Ichigo falling into Yoruichi's arms; how he had slid off the edge of the bed with the sword in his chest. Tessai's heart had sunk, not so much because Ichigo was hurt, but rather because Kisuke's Ichigo was hurt, if that made any sense.

The thing they both could not understand, and would not have believed if they hadn't seen it with their own eyes, was that the sword had disappeared. One second it was buried deep in the boy's chest—he really was serious about stabbing himself—and the next, it was gone. No blood, no sword, just an unconscious boy.

They had later found Benihime, tucked safely away in her sheath where Ururu had left her—next to the coat rack where Kisuke usually hung his coat. The girl swore that the walking stick—the sword—was resting at the same exact angle against the wall as she had left it.

So what was the thing that appeared next to the bed? It looked exactly like Benihime, yet it wasn't? Nobody they spoke to had ever heard of such a thing; phantom zanpakutou? Even Ukitake sounded skeptical when Yoruichi told him.

Whatever it was, there was nothing they could do now except sit and wait, and hope that both of them would return.

Ichigo took in his surroundings with his mouth hanging open in awe. Majestic—that was the word that came to his mind as he turned around in circles, looking at miles and miles of expansive desert land that stretched on as though it would never end. The sky was a startling blue, yet it wasn't hot. It wasn't dry, either, even though one would expect a desert to be dry.

It was a strange place, certainly, but it was also a familiar place.

Ichigo was standing in what he had come to know as his training grounds; the desert-like training ground that Kisuke built in Soul Society and later replicated below his shop. But he could tell that this wasn't man-made. This was the real thing; the sand was real, the cracks in the uneven land was real, the shriveled shrubs and rocks that scattered the ground were real.

And Ichigo knew exactly, without a doubt, where this was—it was Kisuke's inner world.

It made sense that Kisuke would design his training ground based on his own inner world; it was, after all, where he first learned to become one with his zanpakutou—the most sacred, private place in his soul.

As he began to walk aimlessly, Ichigo's hand went to his chest. There was no wound, no indication that he had ever been stabbed. Yet he remembered so clearly how he took up Kisuke's sword and the wild look in Yoruichi's eyes when she realized what he was going to do.

Ichigo didn't know why he did what he did. As soon as he laid eyes on Benihime by his feet, he knew it was the key into Kisuke's inner world. There was no logic behind it, he just...knew.

His ears suddenly picked up a sharp whizzing sound; he foze. As he listened, the sound became louder—something was heading his way from behind. Reacting from instincts alone, his hand shot up. His fingers closed around what felt like a thin wooden stick, but when he brought his hand up to see what it was, he blanched.

It was a small knife; what he thought was a stick was in fact its hilt. It was pure luck that he hadn't caught it by its blade.

Heart thumping from the close call, he turned around.

And stared directly into a pair of blazing red eyes. Surprised, Ichigo backpedaled.

It was a woman, with skin so fair that Ichigo instantly thought of the porcelain dolls that Yuzu owned. Her full, blood red lips stood out starkly against her skin, and her hair—Ichigo had never seen hair so black—was pulled back, away from her face, and piled high on her head. A simple black crown nestled in the dark locks, hardly visible because it blended so well into the color of her hair, and right in the middle of the crown was a large, sparkling, oval-shaped red stone.

She was clad in a black tube top, exposing her pale, flat abdomen. From waist down she wore—again, black—Arabian-style pants; it hugged her hips perfectly, the waistband in the shape of a deep V that dipped dangerously low in front, and then it flared out from her thighs before narrowing once more at the hem above her bare feet. Her long, lean arms were decorated simply with two red bangles around narrow wrists.

But it was her eyes that made Ichigo feel something akin to fear. They burned into his like flames, bright and fierce, and he suddenly felt very, very small.

Benihime.

The Crimson Princess.

Tall, lithe, sleek. And absolutely lethal, if her way of greeting was any indication.

Ichigo snapped to his senses when she took a step forward.

"Hi," he said, not knowing what else to say.

She remained silent, but her eyes traveled up and down Ichigo's frame as though she was inspecting him. After a few unnerving seconds, she made a dissatisfied "hmph" before crossing her arms over her chest.

"You." Her voice was surprisingly deep, and could have passed as sensual if not for the look of disgust on her face.

Ichigo stared at her, struggling to wrap his head around the fact that he was looking at Kisuke's zanpakutou. He'd tried to picture what Benihime would look like before, just out of curiosity, but this was...this woman here, was far, far from his imagination.

Perhaps it was the deceptively innocent word of "Princess". He wasn't truly expecting to see a blond-haired, blue-eyed girl clad in a frilly pink dress, but he certainly wasn't expecting to see a deadly assassin either. Although, he had to admit, she held herself with an air of confidence and elegance that reminded him of Byakuya. In that sense, she was a princess.

Ichigo's skin crawled under her critical gaze, and after a while he just couldn't stand it anymore. He cleared his throat. "Where's Kisuke?"

Benihime gave him a scowl that could rival his own. "Of all the souls in the world, Kisuke had to pick you. What does he see in you?"

Her tone, and the way she had blatantly ignored his question, irked Ichigo, but he had a bigger worry on his mind. "Where's Kisuke?"

"Somewhere safe," she snapped at once. "Somewhere away from you."

Ichigo felt a wave of annoyance. "Why? What's wrong with me?" he asked.

"What's wrong with you? There are too many things for me to list!" Benihime spat, uncrossing her arms and lowering them to her sides, her hands balled into fists. "Kisuke used to be strong! Fearless! He's a genius! There wasn't anything he couldn't do!" She stopped and patted her own chest to calm herself.

"He still is," Ichigo said.

Benihime's eyes flashed. "Not the way he used to be," she said fiercely. "You made him weak. You made him indecisive, you made him worry, you even made him bow down to the very people who banished him from the life that he deserves." Her mouth curled up into a snarl. "You made him value your life more than his own."

Ichigo stared at her in bewilderment.

"He used to be carefree, nothing holds him back and he was afraid of nothing," Benihime continued her tirade. "Then you had to come along and ruin everything!"

Ichigo felt confused. He couldn't help feeling that Benihime wasn't referring to this particular incident. He was missing something, something far bigger.

Benihime looked at the boy and asked in exasperation, "You really don't get it, do you?"

Ichigo shook his head.

"You made him weak the moment he began to care," Benihime said bitterly, walking towards Ichigo with anger in her eyes. "And how did you return his love, you immature, selfish boy? You ignored him even though all he wanted to do was to protect you, you knew that freak in you was coming back but you hid it from him! Do you know what he did to Kisuke?" Her voice broke.

Ichigo's heart sank as he recalled what he did to Jackie and how he'd lost control and ended up stabbing Kisuke. It was beginning to sound like there was another episode, one that he wasn't aware of.

"What did I do?" he asked softly, afraid to hear the answer.

"He didn't want you to know because he was afraid that it'll hurt you," she said, her eyes darkening. "But I'm not Kisuke."

Ichigo repeated, "What did I do?" He curled his fists, preparing himself for the worst.

"The freak forced himself on Kisuke, just this afternoon." Benihime hissed. "And Kisuke let him, because he was afraid that your hollow would hurt you." She took a deep breath and looked Ichigo in the eye. "I screamed and screamed and begged him to fight back, but he wouldn't." Her nose and cheeks turned pink, and angry tears gathered at her lower lashes. "All because he was afraid for you."

Ichigo had gone ghastly pale in horror. His stomach clenched and then all of a sudden he was on his hands and knees, dry heaving and gasping for breath. He couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe.

Benihime went on, "You know what he thought when he was bleeding and in pain? He was praying that you would never find out." She let out an eerie laugh and her tears finally slid down her face. "He was so happy when you didn't remember it. He was happy! The idiot!"

No, no, no. Ichigo coughed, his throat seizing up. He thought of Kisuke; how he'd had woken him up by stroking his hair, how he'd had smiled at him, how he'd had tried to ask him, again, to stay away from Ginjo. He'd done all that despite what Ichigo had done to him.

"Where's Kisuke?" Ichigo asked, his voice raspy because he couldn't swallow, couldn't breathe, and his throat was so dry that it hurt. "Where is he? Please let me see him, please." He looked up at Benihime, no longer caring that she was looking at him like he was a piece of trash.

"No," she said. "I can't."

"Please," Ichigo choked out. He hadn't felt this desperate ever since he woke up to find his mother dead by the river so many years ago. "I just want to see him, I just want to tell him I'm sorry. Please, please!" He knew he must look and sound pathetic; he was begging on his knees, and he never begged. But this was Kisuke; he would do anything if it meant he could see him again.

"It's too late."

Ichigo felt his stomach lurch. "What do you mean?"

Benihime crouched down in front of him. "A shinigami's soul is seriously damaged when he is cut by his own zanpakutou. He knew that, but he'd rather sacrifice himself than letting you go through the pain of hurting your own sister," she said in a pained voice. "That's how much he loves you, but he's not invincible, boy."

A chill went through Ichigo's body. "What do you mean?" he asked again.

"He's dying," Benihime said simply. Ichigo noticed how her voice had lost the edge of anger, only to be replaced by sorrow. "It's just a matter of time." She gestured to the horizon. "Do you see? It's crumbling, everything's crumbling. When the whole place falls apart, he dies."

"No," Ichigo whispered, unwilling to believe what he heard. "I'm sure there's something we can do. Can't you do anything? Can't I do something? He can't die, I won't let him die."

To his surprise, Benihime reached out her hand and touched his cheek. "Kurosaki Ichigo, I don't hate you," she said with a sigh. "I'm angry, yes, but I can't hate you, because I'm part of him. But I refuse to let Kisuke die without telling you how much he has done for you. That's the only reason I invited you here." She paused, then, with a determined frown, she stood up. "Now, go. I've said all I wanted to say, now you should leave."

"There's gotta be something I can do!" Ichigo pleaded. "Just tell me, I'll do it. I'll do anything, Benihime, you know I will!"

She hesitated.

Ichigo brightened, latching onto her hesitation like it was a sliver of hope. "Just tell me what to do."

Benihime led Ichigo across the vast plain. Everything looked the same around him, Ichigo no longer knew where he was, or how far he had walked from where he'd first met her. It was just mile after mile of dry land. Ichigo wondered how someone as warm as Kisuke could have such a dreary inner world, and so he asked.

The woman looked at him thoughtfully before replying. "A shinigami's inner world reflects his soul, his deepest desires, his emotions, even his subconscious," she said. "Do you remember, boy, if your inner world had changed because of your feelings?"

Ichigo mulled over her question for a moment, and he remembered. "Yes," he said. "There was once, Zangetsu said it wouldn't stop raining, and he said he felt like he was going to drown. That was when I was really sad."

Benihime nodded. "Exactly. Kisuke's world is a barren wasteland because he is always alone."

Ichigo opened his mouth to argue, but Benihime held up a hand to silence him. "Alone, not lonely. There is a difference. He stands alone because of his brilliance and complexity. He has many friends, but he had no one who truly understood him." She glanced at Ichigo. "He had nobody whom he really loved. That is, until you came along."

Ichigo blushed and felt a rush of warmth spread in his chest.

"Look," Benihime said, stopping in her tracks. She pointed to a tiny patch of green that stood out oddly against the pale beige land.

Ichigo's eyes widened in surprise. It was an oasis, and it could only mean one thing. Without a word, he took off in a sprint.

And there he found Kisuke, sitting on the ground with his back leaning against a boulder. His head was lolled to one side, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. Ichigo crouched down next to him and raked his fingers through the man's pale blond hair. It was soft, smoother and finer than his own.

He heard the soft crunching sound of approaching feet and turned reluctantly. Benihime stood next to Kisuke and leaned against the boulder.

"This started growing when he first met you," she said, looking fondly at her wielder. "This is why I cannot hate you, boy."

Ichigo bit his lip, but he willed his tears away. I will not cry. I will not cry, because Kisuke is going to live.

Ignoring Benihime's presence, he leaned closer to Kisuke and kissed him. A light brush of lips, and then Ichigo was suddenly seized by a pain he'd never experienced before and he found himself unable to let go. He gripped Kisuke's shirt tightly and pressed their lips together desperately.

Their last kiss.

When he finally pulled away, he could barely breathe. Then, with a determined clench of his jaw, he stood up. "I'm ready, Benihime."

This was what he must do. The only way Kisuke could live.

After he'd pressed and pressed, Benihime finally told him reluctantly that there was a way to save Kisuke. A soul for a soul.

Ichigo's soul for Kisuke's soul.

For Kisuke to live, Ichigo must die.

He hadn't hesitated. His only request was one last kiss.

Now he looked at Benihime. She was no longer angry. Instead, her eyes were brimming with tears; not angry tears anymore, but tears of pain and gratitude.

"I'm ready." Then, Ichigo closed his eyes.

And then he opened his eyes and found himself staring at a blank white ceiling.

It didn't work!

Seized by panic, he jumped to his feet. He didn't even realize that he was screaming until he felt strong arms holding him back. Voices were calling his name and telling him to calm down.

I can't calm the fuck down! It didn't work, it didn't work, and that means Kisuke will die!

Then, he was suddenly staring into a pair of wide grey eyes.

"Kisuke!" Ichigo was so surprised and relieved that his knees gave out abruptly, and he almost fell on top of the blonde, who was clearly very much awake. Awake and alive.

Kisuke sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck and wincing. "Your voice can wake the dead, Ichigo," he grumbled.

"What happened? What the fuck happened?" Ichigo turned from Kisuke to Yoruichi and then to Tessai.

"Ah." The blonde looked somewhat sheepish. "I'm afraid I must apologize for Benihime's...behavior."

Ichigo stared at him in confusion. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

"You see, she's not very nice," Kisuke said with a grimace. "She has a...how I should say this...a strong will that is hard to control sometimes. She knocked me out, and then after you left, she, ah, told me that she had taken the liberty to put you through a test. A challenge, as she called it."

Ichigo's mouth fell slack from incredulity. "You're kidding me," he mumbled.

Yoruichi's voice was wry. "I see she's still as manipulative."

"They say a zanpakutou is an extension of your soul," Tessai said helpfully.

"That is a viable explanation, yes," Yoruichi agreed.

Their attempted playful banter wilted when Ichigo straightened up and began to step slowly away from the bed, eyes filled with disbelief and hurt.

"Is anything she told me real?" he asked. His voice did not tremble, but the sense of betrayal in it was obvious.

Kisuke's eyes flicked to his friends, and they nodded in understanding. Tessai rested his hand on Yoruichi's shoulder, and then, with an encouraging glance as Kisuke, they walked out of the room, leaving the two lovers alone.

For the longest time neither spoke; there was just too many things that they needed to say to each other, neither knew where to begin.

"I assure you, aside from the part that I was going to die, everything she said is true and real," the blonde said finally. He reached out and gestured for the boy to go to him.

Ichigo approached hesitantly. "So I did...I did do that to you," he whispered, feeling his heart break all over again.

Kisuke looked up sharply. "That wasn't you."

"But it was my body," Ichigo said. He felt sick. Holding his hands up, he stared at them as though they were the dirtiest thing in the world. "I didn't stop him."

Kisuke kicked off the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, then in a flash he was holding the boy in his arms. Ichigo had grown taller in the recent year and a half, and he was now only an inch shorter than the older man. But in his horror and distress, he seemed to have folded into himself. His shoulders sagged and his head fell forward limply against the blonde's shoulder.

"I will not have you blaming yourself for something he did, Ichigo," Kisuke murmured into Ichigo's hair. He cupped the back of the boy's head and pulled him tighter against his own body. Ichigo felt thin in his embrace, a testament of how much the boy had pushed himself in his desperation to regain his identity.

He should've known. It wasn't a matter of gaining power; Ichigo had been searching for himself, the part of him that strove to live up to his name—protector.

"I'm sorry," Ichigo whispered, squeezing his eyes shut.

Kisuke pulled Ichigo along with him as he slowly sat back down on the edge of the bed. Clumsily, the boy climbed into his lap, his arms still hooked around the back of Kisuke's neck.

All of a sudden the room seemed too warm; Ichigo's face was too hot, Kisuke's breathing too loud, their hearts beating too fast.

Before they were even conscious of their actions, their lips had found each other, and then they were whispering each other's names and fumbling with their clothes, fingers raking across burning hot skin and touching, stroking, moving everywhere they could reach.

Ichigo jumped off and practically tore off his jeans, then, without breaking his stride he was on Kisuke's lap again, grinding their bodies together. The feeling of bare skin against bare skin was almost too much to bear; they needed each other, and they needed it now.

Kisuke's breath hitched as Ichigo balanced himself precariously on his thighs, and then with a soft cry he was enveloped in that tight, blinding heat. Ichigo buried his face into Kisuke's hair and rocked his hips, not caring if they could be overheard as he gasped and moaned. Kisuke supported the boy's weight with a death grip around the small of his back; groaning from the depths of his throat, he thrust up to meet Ichigo, their bodies connecting again and again with a sense of urgency and intimacy that was new and raw.

And then Ichigo was suddenly trembling in his arms, his name tumbling from the boy's lips in a strangled moan. The spread of warmth on his stomach that followed and the constriction of the heat around him wrung the last thread of control from his body, and he cried out his release before biting down on Ichigo's shoulder to muffle the rest.

Their breathing remained harsh as they gradually stopped moving. Ichigo's thighs and calves were beginning to hurt from the uncomfortable position, but he ignored them, until finally Kisuke decided to lie down on his back, pulling the boy with him.

Ichigo muttered something into Kisuke's neck, and the blonde leaned closer. "What was that?"

Ichigo repeated his murmured words. They were just as unclear as before, but this time Kisuke could at least tell that it was three syllables.

Chuckling softly, the blonde placed a chaste kiss on the bright orange hair resting against his cheek. "I love you too."

When Ichigo and Kisuke finally walked into the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed in clean clothes, they found Yoruichi and Tessai sitting at the dining table.

Yoruichi raised her eyebrows in amusement and snickered at the sight of Ichigo wearing her friend's oversized green robe. Tessai, however, was red in the face and looked absolutely horrified, obviously still traumatized by the sounds that he'd been subjected to earlier.

Blushing slightly, Ichigo plopped himself down at the table. "So," he said, fidgeting in his seat. "What now?"

Yoruichi smiled. "Now, I shall continue with my mission," she said, twirling Kisuke's striped bucket hat on her finger. "The reason I'm in Karakura in the first place is to look into the matter of these...mysterious companions of yours. After Kisuke told me about them, I've been monitoring them from Soul Society and doing some research on them with Ukitake." She threw the hat in the air and caught it. "We know who he is, but there are some things I need to confirm before we decide on a plan of action."

"You know Ginjo?" Ichigo asked, looking at her curiously.

Her eyes darkened for a split second before her smile returned. "Oh yes, he is...an old acquaintance," she said casually. "Just let us take care of it from now on."

Ichigo nodded. He mulled over his mixed feelings towards Ginjo and his friends; dangerous as it was, Ginjo had given him the sliver of hope that he'd been looking for, yet, it was also because of them that he had returned. He could still feel him, just simmering below the surface. After learning what he'd done to Kisuke, Ichigo's anger alone was enough to keep him under control for now, but he knew that sooner or later, they would have to face each other again.

Yoruichi caught his troubled expression and rested her palm on his arm. "As for you, Kisuke is working on it. Just have patience, Ichigo."

Ichigo looked at the blonde and suddenly remembered Benihime's cryptic words. "You even made him bow down to the very people who banished him from the life that he deserves." Could it be...?

"It's really not as bad as she thinks," Kisuke said with a wry smile, reading Ichigo's expression.

"But I don't want you to..." Ichigo began, frowning. "To...bow down, or..."

"Things are different now," Yoruichi interrupted, her eyes gleaming with pride. "Soul Society is changing, Ichigo, and in many ways they're changing because of you."

Ichigo blinked. Something in their smiles told him that it was a good thing, although he was certain that they're not telling him everything. Even so, despite himself—because he was afraid he would be disappointed again—he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope.

Kisuke caught his eyes, and Ichigo immediately knew, then, that his fear was unnecessary. Because where there's Kisuke, there's hope.

And Ichigo would always have hope.

~END~

I have a lot to say, haha, so the author's note here is actually the next chapter.