Author's note: Nope, I'm not dead and this story is not abandoned. :) Apologies for the short, transitional chapter but there's more in the works.
Ch 12: In Which Ichigo Does Some Thinking
Ichigo scowled at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, let out a huff of breath, and forced himself to put on the thing he'd borrowed from Urahara. After staring at himself for several seconds, Ichigo announced to the mirror: "I look like a goddamned idiot."
There was no point in denying it. He did look like an idiot. Urahara had called the item by some long, formal-sounding name like 'Heavenly Cloak of Three Cranes Seeking Diamond Fish' which was pretty stupid considering it wasn't a cloak at all. Ichigo thought a better name for it would have been 'Ugly-Ass Cap of Total Embarrassment' because that was certainly the effect when he put it on.
When Urahara had first plopped it on his head at the store, Yoruichi purred and rubbed against him seductively. "I think it's very fetching."
"Quit that!" Ichigo had snatched the thing off his head to see what looked like a gold and brown aviator's cap adorned with huge, catlike ears. "You bastard! Are you making fun of me again?" Ichigo wadded the cap in his fist.
Urahara had put up his hands in a deflecting gesture. "Careful! There's delicate technology in that, Kurosaki-san. It won't be of any help to you if you damage it."
Ichigo had glared at the man, who giggled nervously and stepped back. When Ichigo uncrumpled the cap to examine it, there seemed to be some sort of wiring in the material. Even as he held it, the large ears appeared to quiver with sensitivity.
"What's it supposed to do, anyway?" Ichigo wanted to know.
"Exactly what you need it to do," Urahara had smiled, a faint gleam in his shadowed eyes. "As long as you are wearing it, you will be able to pinpoint and follow the reiatsu of a specific person while your own spiritual pressure is totally concealed."
Ichigo had raised an eyebrow at the bizarre cap. "Even from someone like Ishida?"
"Even from a Quincy," Urahara had confirmed with an impish smile.
He had wondered just how the shopkeeper knew that particular detail but decided he was probably happier not knowing.
Just like he would have been happier if no one could see him wearing the ridiculous, cat-eared headgear, but that wasn't an option.
"Remember, Kurosaki-san," Urahara had told him, peering slyly over his fan and hiding what Ichigo was sure was an evil grin. "That was made for use with a gigai, so it won't work if you're in spirit form."
"You're kidding, right?" The look on Ichigo's face had sent Yoruichi into a fit of cackling.
"Think of it as an incentive," she'd snickered, peeling the cap out of his hand and fitting it back on his head before pushing him toward the door. "The faster you find him, the fewer people will see you, right?"
"Thanks a lot," he had muttered, not feeling as grateful as he probably should have. Just as he was about to flash step away, however, Urahara caught his sleeve and tucked something inside it.
"A little good luck charm for you," the shopkeeper had simpered. "Free sample of a new product. Happy hunting, Kurosaki-san!"
Ichigo had been half-way home before he thought to feel around in his sleeve to find what Urahara had given him, and he blushed when he saw the renegade Shinigami's trademark grin on the small, square, plastic packets.
"Wonderful," he'd grunted, shoving them back in his sleeve. At least he wasn't out of condoms any longer. As he'd made his way back to his apartment, Ichigo had tried not to think about whether he'd get the chance to use them.
On returning home, Ichigo had stashed the condoms in his nightstand, tossed the cat-eared cap onto his desk, and stood staring at it for a long time. His body was slumped in his desk chair where he'd left it, and, after a while, he sat down into it, stood up, took the cap and marched into the bathroom where he now stood wearing the cap and looking like an utter fool.
Which was exactly what he was.
"Crap," he muttered, pulling off the cap, turning away from the mirror and leaning against the sink.
Ishida has liked you for a long time.
Chad's words throbbed in the back of his brain. He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking back, searching for the truth of those words. Images poured into the darkness behind his eyes: Ishida, stiff and priestly, declaring "I hate you, Kurosaki Ichigo"; Ishida slumped on the ground with his bloody hands and pleading eyes after the Menos battle; arguing with Ishida in the darkness of the Garganta, yelling about his "loopholes" but too focused on the coming battles to wonder why Ishida had looked for them; Ishida standing on the broken floor of the throne room after saving Inoue from the 10th Espada's massive fists. Except that Ishida hadn't been looking at Inoue. Ishida had been looking at him.
"So what?" Ichigo grumbled aloud. Ishida had been as snotty as ever that time. He hadn't said anything that hinted of hidden emotion. But then, Ishida had always been good at hiding things, hadn't he? The loss of his powers? The bargain he'd made with his father? Everything about himself.
Ichigo left the bathroom and wandered down the hall, ending up in front of Ishida's door without even meaning to. He pushed it open and stared inside. It looked just the same as the night Ishida left.
He has to come back, Ichigo told himself. All his stuff is here.
Even as he said it, Ichigo felt an icy trickle of fear in his gut. The furniture was undisturbed, but what if Ishida had packed up all his clothes and things while Ichigo had been in Karakura? In a panic, Ichigo strode to the closet and yanked the door open. Instead of the empty hangers that he feared, it was full of Ishida's shirts and pants, all arranged by color. His shoes were lined up on the floor, and there was a bin of neatly folded fabric beside his sewing machine case.
Ichigo let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Even if he ditched his clothes, there was no way Ishida would leave his sewing projects behind. Relieved, Ichigo leaned against Ishida's desk and realized he was still holding on to Urahara's cap. Shaking it out, he gazed at the thing, feeling quite sure that Urahara had designed it to be as embarrassing as possible. Ugly or not, though, it was his ticket to finding out where Ishida had gone. All Ichigo had to do was put it on, think about Ishida, and the cap would guide him right to his errant roommate.
So why wasn't he doing it?
Be honest, his inner voice prodded him. It's because you're afraid you won't like where you find him, isn't that it?
Suspicion prickled through the worry and frustration Ichigo had harbored for the last three days. The idea that Ishida was staying at Buff/Toru's had occurred to him during Biology class on Monday, and he'd been fighting off thoughts – very detailed thoughts – of what they might be doing together since then. Worse, if Ishida was staying there, Ichigo knew he had only himself to blame, that his own stupidity and rashness had driven Ishida right into his rival's arms.
As much as Ichigo tormented himself with these thoughts, there was a small, rational sliver of his brain that didn't quite believe it. Even while he punched his pillow and kicked at his sheets, sleepless, tortured, and aroused by his own imaginings, part of him was aware of just how unlikely it all was. The Ishida he knew would rather sleep on the street than impose on another person, or worse, be indebted to them.
"Prickly bastard," Ichigo muttered. "Wouldn't ask for help if he was bleeding to death."
No, that wasn't quite true, and Ichigo knew it. Ishida had asked for his help the other night, hadn't he? Or at least he'd accepted it, up to a point. He'd asked Ichigo to take him home and allowed him to tend the wounds on his back. Wounds that, as usual, he'd gotten because of Ichigo.
It's always my fault he gets hurt, isn't it? Ichigo berated himself, guilt flowering in the pit of his stomach as he remembered Ishida bleeding, Ishida powerless, Ishida impaled by Tensa Zangetsu. No wonder he ran away. Why shouldn't he be afraid I'd do something like that again? How does he know I wouldn't do the same thing to his heart?
Ichigo stared at the weird cap in his hand, then folded it and stuffed it in his back pocket. He moved to the window and parted the curtains to look out. He knew Ishida was out there somewhere in the soft glow of the night-lit city, and he knew he could find him. The thing was – the real reason he was reluctant to go look for him – was that he wanted Ishida to come home on his own. He wanted Ishida to come back to him.
"Friday," Ichigo said, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against the window glass. "I'll give him until Friday. If he's not back by then, I'll use it. I'll find him and bring him back myself."
