Chapter 25: Awaken
The Kurosaki Clinic stood silent in the windy afternoon and the trees in the garden rustled and bowed to the winds commands. Inside the green wooden walls of the house, on the second floor, Ichigo struggled.
He pushed a weak arm against his fathers strong one, trying to shove him away so he could get out of the bed he lay in.
"You have to lie still! You were attacked, came home through the window," his father told him.
But… What? Ichigo leaned back, his entire body slumping against the bed. When had that happened?
Oh no… They had been thrown out of the house. It all flashed over him, the cold rain, the finding of his soul-removal pills, the dimly lit food-stand. Shinigami had attacked! Yes… they had come… how many? He couldn't remember. But they had been slain and devoured to remove all trace of him ever being there.
The body… Oh God, the body had been hurt so bad! The entire arm had been cut open! One of his legs had been stabbed deep. It had hurt so much, every step had been so hard he hadn't even managed to take one without his inner demons help. They had struggled. A window and then darkness.
"Ichigo, you have a fever. You need to rest," Isshin's voice was soft and gentle now.
Ichigo blinked wearily. He was back home, in his bed. It had all been a feverish dream of the horrors he had gone through before. A dreadful memory he didn't want. A throaty groan escaped him.
His vision was too blurry to even make out his father well, all he could really see was those glowing eyes and blurry dark contours. He felt a wet cloth move over his mouth and face, his father cleaning him free from sticky vomit.
His clothes were carefully removed; lukewarm air sweeping over his bare chest and the warm, wet cloth was moved over it, cleaning him. Slowly Ichigo felt the cloth move towards his left arm, and then oddly disappear. Another shirt or a hospital grown or whatever it was, was carefully put over him and the covers were tucked back.
Isshin had talked to him, small words here and there that Ichigo hadn't really heard. His ears were ringing and his headache was murderous, blocking out all rational thought. All he could do was to stare ahead through half lidded eyes and try to get his vision to clear. He tried to relax and ignore the scary numbness of his body. Fatigue grasped him and it hadn't taken long for him to fall asleep again.
Slowly he woke up sometime later, groggy and unsure of when as he had no sense of time in the dark room. But the room held familiar look and scent that Ichigo tried to handle as something safe, tried to convince himself he could rest here, despite being in the real world.
Looking around slowly he noticed his vision was much clearer now and his mind wasn't as sluggish as it had been. With a groan he tried to sit up, ignoring the protests of his body. What made him stop though was not the pain, but rather the lack of it.
Immediately he removed the cover that lay over him to find his body dressed in white hospital clothes. His left arm lay over his stomach, wrapped in white band-aids, that went from the tips of his fingers to his shoulder and secured over his upper chest.
Pale lips parted ever so slightly as he slowly removed the covers entirely from the left side of his body, finding one of the skinny legs there bandaged heavily as well and some sort of hard support was warped around it, held in place with large Velcro straps. Instantly his mouth was closed again, forming a thin line in his face as worry began to eat at his soul.
One of the shinigami had cut him with his blade right? Poison, there had been poison that had turned his flesh the shade of sickening purple…
As he moved shaky fingers over the plastic support, he heard someone step inside. Lifting his head, he saw his fathers worried face from the hallway looking like he asked for permission to step inside.
"What happened to us…?" Ichigo asked in a whisper, unable to stop himself. His fathers answer was not immediate; instead he slowly walked over to Ichigo's black chair and sat down. A light sigh escaped him, making Ichigo's eyebrows furrow.
"I'm sorry to tell you… but since your body was already in such bad state when you left the house, the water that got into your leg along with the poison caused an instantaneous infection. I had to operate as fast as I could…" Isshin paused, but not long enough for his son to talk.
"It looks pretty bad I'm afraid; some muscles strings were severed…" Isshin moved a hand through his beard. "I've put you on antibiotics but I don't know how your leg will turn out. I-I don't know if you will be able to walk properly again," Isshin did his best to keep his voice calm and professional. He had told injuries alike or worse to patients before, but never had it been this hard as it was now. His face strained as muscles worked to keep still, despite the ranging emotions that wanted to contort it.
"Your arm looks better thought, but not great either. I do think you may at least be able to use it just fine in a month or two. You'll have to have it in a sling and bandaged at all time until then I'm afraid, since I had to stitch the wound together."
Ichigo said nothing, his brain not wanting to process what he had just heard his father say as he lay down in the bed again.
He wouldn't be able to walk properly again? Not walk…? To his horror the only thing his thoughts formed was the image of a wheelchair that soon grew into a horrid monster that restricted him of all movement, ensnared and trapped him with its steel bars. Pierced through his every muscle and bone, drilled into his spine, paralyzing.
"Ichigo," Isshin's rather concerned voice didn't seem to reach him. His son had stopped moving, his eyes half lidded yet panic stricken. Worried, Isshin grabbed his son's wrist; trying to make his son come back to him. Lightly he shook it.
"Ichigo, it's going to be alright." He said; his voice strong as he found the rhythm of his son's pulse fast, but nothing to worry about. Twitching, Ichigo blinked and inhaled sharply before he looked over to find his father holding his left wrist carefully. Isshin's hand contrasted sharply in colour against his body.
"Dad?"
Isshin looked at his son, noting the slight hint of panic in the boy's voice as he tilted his head up off the pillow. "Yes, Ichigo?"
"You're touching our arm…" He breathed out, voice tense.
"Yes. I've found that's helpful when taking a pulse," Isshin's eyebrows furrowed as he looked at Ichigo questioningly. Ichigo's breathing increased and the little colour he had drained from his face.
"What is it?" Isshin quickly asked, worry biting harder at him at the reaction.
"We can't feel our arm. We can't move it either!" Ichigo said, his eyes widening. "Dad, we can't feel our arm!"
"You're still on morphine Ichigo, it hasn't left your body yet so it can take a while for the feeling and movement to return. Tomorrow it will probably be all gone," Isshin stated, hoping his words rung true. "Then I'll see if I can stop you on the heavy pain-relievers and only got with the lighter ones."
Ichigo frowned but looked away and bit his lip, his right hand coming up to his face for him to look at, and then back to his father. "But we can move the other one just fine."
"We will have to wait until tomorrow and see Ichigo."
Ichigo sighed, not knowing what to say as he slipped further into the bed, feeling groggy still. He knew the disturbing news of his condition had yet to sink in. And so did his father it seemed as he stayed with him for a while, sitting quietly next to his painfully thin form. Ichigo said nothing and after half an hour or so had passed with Isshin not saying anything, letting his son speak if he wanted to, he left telling Ichigo he needed to rest.
Isshin pondered, trying to summarise all medical knowledge had ever acquired. Yet he could find no clue on the paralysis to his Ichigo's arm. Maybe it was the trauma? But that was an odd place to get a periodic paralysis… But Ichigo had gotten migraines, one that didn't seem to one want stop at any medication. It didn't sound right to him. But he knew he wasn't one to make assumptions too hastily, he had to remind himself that he did not know what Ichigo had been up to for almost half a year.
Periodic paralysis… Oh, how he hoped to God, even as he as a shinigami knew there was none, that it was only that; temporary…
Once more a hand moved through his bread and he pushed his fingers into his eyeballs.
Isshin headed down stairs, worry still corroding his troubled form. Ichigo was anything but fine and he knew it. He didn't know what to say to Ichigo either, knowing that what had happened wouldn't be easy for the boy to cope with.
He didn't know exactly what his son had went through for all the long months he had been gone, but he knew it had been something horrible or worse and he obviously hadn't wished to return back here. Isshin guessed the place of the living was a place of bad memories. Or whatever wished Ichigo to leave was still here, pushing at him and his actions, hard enough for him to turn on his sister.
That attack, if Isshin dared to could call it that, had seemed odd; the extreme change it had done in his son's way of acting troubling. Had it been temporary? Or had it been a display for what he was becoming? Or for the worse, had become? Yielding to instincts so blindly it morphed him into something else?
Pouring warm coffee into an empty cup, Isshin's face was grim from troubled thoughts. Maybe he shouldn't have left Ichigo alone; he didn't know what Ichigo could do if he decide to hurt himself up there, in some desperate attempt to get away.
Isshin stopped on the spot for a few seconds, surprised at the thought. He never though he'd ever even think the thought that his son would do something like that; hurt himself on purpose. But now from what he had seen, he wasn't so sure anymore on leaving the thought out. He didn't know what his son would do when instincts pressed too hard…
Ichigo had had his periods of depression, there had been many of them since the death of Masaki, but Ichigo had always, as far as Isshin knew, managed through them without hurting himself in anyway, or anyone for that sole reason for that matter.
But that had been because of a strong will and heart. But Ichigo had lost his heart; he only had his will left that seemed to be slipping away from the hole in his body ever so slowly. The new problems couldn't make it any better, if only worse.
Both Isshin's hands moved over his face, his fingers pushing into his eyes again and he resumed his journey to the sofa. With a sigh the bearded man sipped at his coffee, wishing for the best to his son and hoped for a miracle to make it all better. But none came of course. The chance of that was as big as his beloved wife returning.
Masaki.
Silently he wondered what she would do now if she was here with him. His heart ached even more at the thought that she wasn't. She wasn't here now and hadn't been for, how long was it again six, seven years?
Six. Soon to be seven years of waking up in an empty bed every single day. No more comfortable weight resting near him. No more blond hair tangled in his fingers.
He felt like smoking. But not out of memory for his loved one, but for the miserable thought of getting nicotine into his system to help him calm down, to help pushing the gloomy thoughts away. Make the worry lessen.
The cigarette lighter put light to a flame and Isshin let it burn the tip for the white paper around the tobacco and inhaled. Smoke filled his lungs and moved through his veins, soothing him. He held the hand the way his wife loved and felt the cold wind of the outside where he stood ease his troubled mind. It made sleeping a little bit easier.
Ichigo himself did not manage to sleep. He lay awake long before dawn broke through the night.
He had to go to the toilet, to pee and had needed to go for quiet some time now as he had awakened from a half sleeping state by a pressure in his lower abdomen, one that he simply hadn't understood first. It hadn't even occurred to him until now that he hadn't done natures call for months. He knew he had a catheter in his urethra while his body had been connected to the respirator, but it was removed now and an easy escape to make the urge go away was out of his options.
Wishing the human body was like his soul, eating and then throwing up the leftovers, no need for a toilet or any bother alike, he moved to get out of bed. Just getting his injured left leg over the side of it was hard.
Slowly he took a small step, still catching his breath from the efforts spent to just rise to his feet, and without warning a surge of pain from his leg injury flared up, causing him to stop moving and inhale sharply through clenched teeth. The sedatives his father had had him on was leaving his system, he knew that.
He rocked from side to side at the hips with each step painfully. He stopped, all weight on the well leg, only his toes of the left leg grazing the floor. Ichigo's hand moved out, supporting himself against the wall.
'Just a few more steps…' He thought to himself, in a weak attempt to keep on moving, no matter how much of a struggle it was. After what felt like the longest of time he finally flopped down on the rim of the toilet, a pleased sigh leaving his lips quietly.
The struggle back to the bed was just as tough, his left arm flopping uselessly at his side. The steel holder for his IV was just in the way and no help at all in his struggle for his destination. Before him the wooden floor was endless, the journey there a great effort, every step a hassle. Finally there, the sweat soaked bed welcomed him with speared bedcovers, making it easy for the boy to tuck himself back in despite his restricted movements. With a troubled sigh, Ichigo closed his blood-shot and darkly rimmed eyes.
Morning came, whenever Ichigo noticed it or not as his face was covered with grey sheets to block out the sun and trying to sooth his headache that was slowly escalating. The shadows danced on the walls through the little gap between the blind there was.
It wasn't long until the door to the boy's room was open by a forceful and loud kick as his father stormed inside, joining the shadows ballet.
"Ichigo!" He roared and twirled around on the spot, taking his son's grey cover with him in the momentum and then stopped to put a tray down on his son's writing desk. "Now is not the time to be in dreamland!"
He was earned with a frustrated, tired groan.
"Now, now Ichigo." Isshin said, sitting down on the chair next to the bed, scooting it over close to the side. "It's time for medicine."
Tired eyes greeted him and Ichigo tried to stifle a yawn with little success. "What meds?" He mumbled; his hoarse voice barely audible.
"The ones that will keep you healthy! You will have to take these medicines regularly, because they will build up in the blood to levels that will fight the pain of inflammation and also give general pain relief. Making my son all the better in no time!"
Ichigo took the small plastic cup, eyeing three pills that held colours that displeased his eyes, but heaved them into his mouth and took the water his father offered him nevertheless. Silently he wondered how his father could be so full of energy this early, or so often. He himself had none. But even so he sat up a little fitfully as he saw the needle Isshin was filling with clear liquid from a small glass bottle.
"What's that?" His quiet voice almost disappeared at the end.
"Medicine!" Isshin beamed, apparently intending to keep playing extremely enthusiastic dad.
Isshin moved the light hospital clothes away from his son to reveal a small part of Ichigo's abdomen, near the hip on the right side. To his surprise he found spots, small discolorations in the skin. He moved a finger over it.
"Have you been given injections before…?" Isshin asked, his eyebrows furrowing.
His son fidgeted and pulled the clothing back over himself, hiding his skin and looked away without a word. But Isshin saw his shamed face before he could hide it beneath an emotionless one. Isshin couldn't help but to think of it as a mask.
"It's alright Ichigo. I won't get mad." He offered. Isshin watched his son bite his lip and slowly turn his head to look at the injection in Isshin's hand.
"We didn't do it ourselves. It was done when we were sleeping. We don't even know what it was!" Ichigo's eyes darted back and forth and he moved his hand over the hip area, as if trying to smooth out the discoloured skin so it wouldn't show. Isshin himself frowned and gently removed his son's pale, long hand and eyed the dotted skin again. It seemed to be old marks. "Was it a while ago?"
"Yes… couple of months… Maybe more, not sure." Ichigo squeaked, more than reluctant to tell his father what he had gone through. No way was he going to mention anything about the interrogation or anything alike. His father easily noticed it, it wasn't hard to see.
"Will you let me give you this pain revealing shot? It won't harm you, just lessen the pain. I want to give it to you now before the pain really hits you, because I'm pretty sure your leg will pain you." The mask returned to his son's face and there was a brief nod, to which Isshin slid the needle beneath the skin quickly.
"There, wasn't so bad now was it?" He offered, smiling and patting the spot where he had pinched the skin after moving the clothes back over it. Ichigo said nothing, not meeting his father's gaze.
Isshin placed the injection next to a deep china bowl that lay on the tray he had brought with him. Said plate and a spoon were soon offered to Ichigo and placed in the boy's lap, who eyed it suspiciously for a few seconds.
At first Ichigo did nothing with it, only looking at the thick soup and feeling its heat seep into his legs. Reluctantly he grabbed the spoon and to his light dismay noticed his hand was shaking a little beyond his control when he tried to keep the cutlery still. Frowning he did his best to consume the warm liquid without spilling.
Every slurp was a struggle to get anything into his mouth. Eventually he put the spoon aside and drank directly from the bowl. It was embarrassing to have his father watch, even if he knew Isshin wasn't actually staring at him, he was busy changing the intravenous drip. When he was done, he felt like vomiting, but he moved a hand over his mouth, swallowing the bile away.
"Ichigo," Isshin asked and the named boy met his father's just as brown eyes. "How's your arm doing, has any feeling returned?"
"We still can't move it."
"Try to wriggle your fingers," Isshin offered, grabbing gently at the arm after coming back around the bed to sit down on the chair.
Ichigo's frown deepened. "We can't. We can't even feel where you're holding our wrist!" Ichigo was now sitting up sharply in bed and practically shouting, fear edging his voice.
"Ichigo, calm down," Isshin laid Ichigo's arm back down on the bed and gently pushed him back to a lying position. The band aid was slowly and carefully removed, the so very pale skin beneath slowly meeting fresh air.
The boy stared, watched as the white fabric left his arm, the scar that ran along it never ending. With each new removed turn Ichigo hoped it would reveal the end of it, but he gave up when the pointy elbow of his came to view. He turned away as his father carefully looked over his stitches. He found them all good and the skin seemed to be healing quiet well.
Isshin could not understand what was wrong. What he had seen when he had operated didn't justify why Ichigo couldn't move, the wound hadn't seemed be one that would cripple the arm. Make it weaker and harder to use yes, but not completely unresponsive. It had to be the poison; it must have paralyzed it in someway, his former assumption growing stronger as he had no other thing to go on.
"I'm sure it's only temporary." Isshin offered, trying to lighten his son's mood and his own. Temporary, his brain echoed for him, clinging to the word like a mantra.
Ichigo's arm was put in a sling once bandaged with new band-aids, as the ability to move even his fingers didn't want to return. The feeling in his leg however did return as the day drew to an end, the pain intense and burning. It was hard to ignore, as he had little to distract himself with. The television hadn't done much for entertainment.
As night came he had been given light sleeping pills and more pain suppressants. It had lulled his senses to sleep, forcing it upon his troubled mind. But still he did not feel rested as he woke up the next day with a flaring migraine, making spots dance in front of his eyes and the urge to vomit strong.
It hurt a lot today, his leg. Ichigo tried to lie as still as he could, even if he felt like a stiff log rumbling around in a wild sea of nausea. He couldn't lie still for long, having to change position much too often to lessen the hurt in his body. Even with the max amount of the strongest aspirins it didn't stop his thigh from searing ache through his horribly scrawny body. All the pills seemed to do was to make him sleepy and numb to everything. Groggy and grumpy.
Suddenly his father was in the room again. Ichigo wondered if the old man was ever going to get a life and leave him alone. Well enough he wasn't screaming and shouting like the crazy man he often seemed to be. He only smiled warmly at his son.
"Will you join us for dinner?"
At first Ichigo been a bit surprised but then said a firm no, but as he noticed his sister's frames standing in the doorway, he couldn't help but to change his answer. Isshin had helped him put on a pair of soft pants and a new, more decent shirt. Ichigo hadn't like it when his father had had to slip his left arm through the hole of the shirt with some trouble without him even feeling it; it was as if his arm wasn't there. Gone. It was put back in the sling afterward and Ichigo was carried down stairs in Isshin's strong arms, no matter how much Ichigo thrashed and said he could walk on his own.
The dinner was quiet. Ichigo didn't say anything, only poking boringly at his food as he had no apatite. He did however not leave his concentration on it as he knew his sisters were staring at him, waiting for an opportunity to ask questions. But he wouldn't let them get any.
"Ichigo…" His father again. Frowning Ichigo looked up, meeting his gaze. "You have to eat something. I know the drip might make you feel a bit queasy," Isshin leaned forward, to see Ichigo's plate better from behind a pot. "At least eat the salad. You don't have to eat the rest."
Sighing Ichigo jabbed his fork into the vegetables and ate without a word. But his father was right, not eating, no matter how pointless it felt when there was no rush of ecstasy to stop the tearing feeling in his ribcage, wasn't a good idea. He was looking like he had severe anorexia already, his legs and arm beyond tin, almost only bone showing. He knew his cheeks were sucked inwards, the eye sockets in his skull quiet visible and his stomach caving.
When the plate was removed from his view and he looked up to see Yuzu looking worriedly at him, yet smiling softly. Slowly he let the corner of his lip twitch upward even so briefly. Instantly he was given an even larger smile in response before the girl left to clean the dishes, seeming a lot happier at the simple gesture.
Getting off the chair with trouble, Ichigo tried to help with cleaning of the rest of the table but noticed he couldn't do much, only one arm, metal pole of the IV stand attached to it and unable to walk properly was restricting him a great deal.
Instead he headed to the bathroom with a sigh on the lower floor to brush his teeth. Ichigo hitched toward the small chambers, using the steel pole that the intravenous drip hung on as support. Even so his limp was so pronounced the he still rocked from side to side at the hips with each step. He kept going despite his fathers offer to help him, which he refused to take.
It proved to be much harder than he thought it would be to brush his teeth. It really pained him when he realised just how hard even the simplest of things now were. He could hardly get the toothpaste on to the brush, since it kept moving around when he pushed against it in the cup it was standing in.
After a lot of silent cursing, he had ended up smearing tooth paste all over the mirror. Angrily he grabbed the brush hastily and put the back side of it in his mouth, holding it his with his teeth to get the white paste over it. He sighed and hastily did what he had come to do.
Once done, he had to go through the humiliating procedure of his father carrying him upstairs and hopped over to his bed to lie down. He was pathetic. So pathetic that just thinking about it was down right embarrassing. He couldn't even walk up the stairs or change his clothes properly on his own anymore. It made him want to kill something.
Ichigo shot up in a sitting position in his bed, the thought about his current state made him furious, anger he couldn't suppress rising. Quickly he got off the bed, walked around it, heaving his leg along with him, forcing his leg to work. He cursed loudly, his voice full of frustration. His leg throbbed viscously with pain as if a dog had sunken its fangs into in when he tried to stand on it. It triggered fresh angry flares and he kicked, or more or less swung his leg into the nearest furniture, a cabinet.
"Goddamn leg!"
Pain shot up into his thigh, so intense that it made him fall to the floor and scream in agony. He grabbed at the limb and swore through gritted teeth, especially when he heard Karin rush into the room and loudly wonder if he was alright as she kneeled beside him, having heard the loud crash from his fall. Ichigo ignored her and cursed.
It hurt, hurt, hurt.
Karin placed her hand on his left shoulder, however he didn't notice since it was the bandaged one. But when she grabbed at his side to help him stand up again, he noticed it and quickly shoved her away.
"Don't fucking touch us!" He spit at her. Instantly she pulled back; she knew better than to not do what Ichigo said when his voice held nothing but rage. She hurried out the room after giving him a hurt look, obviously shocked and startled by the anger her brother held.
Ichigo sighed. He attempted to stand shakily to his feet, but his legs collapsed out from under him and he hit the ground with a dull thud again. Letting out a low moan, Ichigo dragged himself to the side of his bed and lay there, staring with milky eyes at the ceiling above him. As he lowered his gaze, they fell upon an object he knew he would have nightmares about. Eventually he dragged himself over the cold floor toward the wheelchair. His father had placed it in his room after telling him it was best for him to use one until his leg got better, much to Ichigo's added feelings of defeat and frustration.
Struggling, the gaunt teen managed to climb into the chair and quietly he tried to roll over to his bed. He did however realise he couldn't really push himself forward with it, as his left arm lay motionless in his lap. All he succeeded with was to rotate on the spot, pushing one wheel around with his right hand.
Aggravated, Ichigo managed to heave himself up on one shaky leg and jumped over the small distance and onto the bed. He leaned forward and pushed the wheelchair over, hating the infernal thing. As soon as he had done it he regretted it, as he heard his father rush up the stairs after a few seconds, obviously thinking Ichigo had fallen over when sitting in it.
The door was opened hurriedly and Isshin stormed inside, looking worried. But he stopped in his tracks when he saw the wheelchair that lay defeated on its side and then to Ichigo. The boy looked upset, the skinny form of his son looking worse than ever with the arm lying at his side in an odd angle, the bad leg bent to the side and his face wracked with unnatural sleep.
Isshin fidgeted with his hands, unsure of how to cheer his son up. It pained him to no end to see him the way he was now. He didn't know what to do… how to make him happy? Suddenly an idea he had had before truck his mind again, how could he have forgotten it?
"Wait here! Daddy has something for you!" He said with a bight smile, clapping his hands together in enthusiasm.
Ichigo said nothing, not that he could go anywhere anyways. He could hardly go to the toilet by himself without screaming, he couldn't even go down the fucking stairs at all. He didn't care what his father would give him, it wouldn't change anything. He was sure nothing in the world could rise his low spirits. Slowly he managed to curl into the bed again, carefully lifting his leg with his arm to make it hurt less as he lay down and correct his bandaged arm to lie over his chest.
Isshin was suddenly in the room again, Ichigo turning his head solemnly to face him.
"What now?" he asked; his voice shrinking even further into itself. Honestly, he didn't care what his father came with.
His father smiled carefully at Ichigo and held out a long paper box with a hastily tied bowknot string over it. Ichigo eyed it suspiciously and hoisted himself up to sit in the bed. Isshin placed the gift on Ichigo's lap, nudging it closer when Ichigo did nothing to touch it.
"Oh, it's nothing to be afraid of!" Isshin said happily, chuckling. "Open it."
Ichigo eyed his father before reaching for it and pulling it closer to himself. He frowned a bit deeper when he had to move his left arm away with his well hand, as it had slid down to lay over his stomach. Once he had the gift close enough he tugged at the bowknot until it came loose. Carefully he opened it, hearing the tissue paper rustle inside.
What he found inside was nothing else but a cane. A cane.
First Ichigo only stared, but after a few seconds a hesitant hand grabbed the smooth dark wood and brought the walking stick out of the box. Isshin watched his son's emotionless face, hoping for it to turn perhaps a little softer; as he knew a smile was too much to wish for. But instead it twisted into anger, Ichigo's eye narrowing at the item before he forcefully threw it away. Isshin yelped, not expecting it at all.
"Didn't we tell you we aren't going to be a cripple!" Ichigo roared and grabbed the boxes, scattering the tissue paper across the floor and threw them at his father, who easily blocked them as they came flying through the air.
Isshin said nothing. He thought his son would be happy over the gift, but he was only earned with anger. It seemed to be only thing his son rewarded him with no matter how many times he helped him. Where did all the spite come from?
He sighed, not bothering to fight Ichigo back as he watched his son thrash angrily in the bed, now throwing the bight paper he could still reach at Isshin, his face remaining angry. But Isshin knew there was a deep bottled up sadness underneath all the rage, which Ichigo had covered up with so much anger he couldn't even see it anymore.
Isshin knew very well his son always did that, he had been covering it ever since his mother died, so he let his son fume with anger. Slowly he stood, his face turning sad and he carefully placed the cane besides his son's bed, but it was pushed away and clattered loudly to the floor. Isshin sighed in annoyance this time, why could his son not see that he needed it? Isshin left, sad that his son got so angry at the gift he had been so happy to give.
Ichigo bit his jaw together, doing his best to clamp down his anger. He wasn't going to be a cripple! He wasn't! Anger flared inside him and he pulled at the covers that lay over him and a frustrated growl escaped him.
'Hey King, it's not so bad!' Shirosaki suddenly said inside the boy's head.
"Hollow!" Ichigo burst out, not expecting the hollow to say anything. He had been so quiet lately, most probably hiding away in some corner of the inner city, trying to avoid the rain Ichigo knew must be pouring down.
'How can you say it's not so bad! Just fuckin' look at me!' Ichigo wrenched the covers away, exposing the skeleton underneath, bruised skin, scars and band-aid. More fury filled him at the hollow's words. How could he even think it! 'Not so bad!'
In the unthinking moment and with a tired groan of the hollow Ichigo grabbed at the hard support that was around his left thigh. The Velcro straps were pulled away, the sound it made harsh to the boys ears. He pulled at the band-aid that was the only thing that covered the long, thin leg now. He didn't care that it hurt to do it, that the hard support had helped to suppress the pain.
Ichigo gasped as the bandage was gone, the pale skin underneath getting redder the more he removed. The rush of anger to show the hollow how damn bad it was, was replaced with fear and worry for himself. He was faced with a large, massive scar; the wound lined up with staples hocking it together.
"Oh God…" he whispered, his eyes wide as he trailed a shaky finger over the scar that went from his hip down to the kneecap. Slowly he pushed his fingers harder against it, gritting his teeth as pain seared. To his horror the skin sank in, as what was supped to be under apparently wasn't. It seemed soft and lax. Was the muscle dead?
'Um, I change m' mind. it's pretty fuckin' bad…' The hollow mumbled lowly, his words uncertain. 'How… how could it become like that?' The bright voice asked; the same worry and fear Ichigo felt clear in the others voice.
'Fucking shinigami stabbed the damn leg!' Ichigo growled, his hand fisting at his side now.
'Tsh! You know what I meant…'
Ichigo sighed, all they did was to fight it seem. But he only had himself to blame for that. He stayed quiet, the hollow scoffing and shrugging it off, leaving the teen again, returning to rot away alone in the rain inside the boy's soul.
The orange haired teen put the support back around his leg the best he could, it wasn't as tight now but it had to do. He only had one arm to do it with after all.
He felt guilty at what he had done to his father. He hadn't realised how much he needed the cane. Cane or wheelchair. He'd choose the cane in a heartbeat. Ichigo frowned. Oh, the irony.
Bony fingers curled around the handle and with a growl Ichigo rose from the bed and leaned all his weight on his arm. Thankfully it wasn't much. Shakily he took a step, the weight quickly back on the stick before he fell. Okay, this needed some practice.
He stepped around in the room, slowly and carefully. To his surprise he could limp around quiet well without too much pain, even if it was still there.
'See – not so bad!' The hollow's low, yet smug voice was faintly heard, yet it wasn't in the middle of his brain as the voice was distant.
'Oh, shut up!' Ichigo mumbled angrily, trying to ignore the smug grin he knew his hollow had over his slim face. But as he was about to retort to the hollow more than he already had, he heard a low knock on the door as slowly it was opened.
Ichigo stepped up to the small hallway between the door and the toilet. Before his parent could say anything Ichigo spoke.
"We're sorry dad… We have no excuse for becoming so angry…" There was a sigh. "Thanks for the cane… really needed it."
At first his father looked at him in disbelief, he had never expected to hear anything close it. Sure, he wished his son to be less angry, but not to say words of thank you. Ichigo saw him look at him in disbelieve.
"What!" he hissed, annoyed as he glared at his father once more.
"Ah, nothing, I just didn't expect-" He was cut off by Ichigo who had started yelling at him again.
"For once we try to act nicely; and this is how you respond?" Ichigo hissed, his emotional turmoil getting the better of him. "Forget it old man!" He spit and turned around, heading for his bed, but he was stopped when muscular arms wrapped around his waist.
Isshin lifted his son up, rotating on the spot with him, as if dancing. He beamed, a genuine smile spreading over his lips and he laughed. "Daddy was just very surprised you liked the cane!"
"Ah, let go!" Ichigo yelled, pain moving through him at the harsh movements and he dropped his new walking stick. Isshin immediately let go, his laugh dying, realizing his mistake and put he boy down, who fell as he couldn't get his footing in order to stand firmly without the dark brown cane.
"Ichigo! I'm sorry!" He sputtered, quickly lifting up his son again bridal style and laying him down on the bed. "Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere?" He asked, obviously worried. Ichigo clutched his leg and clamped his eyes shut. It hurt bad enough to make him hiss through clenched teeth.
"Yeah we're alright, its fine," Ichigo bit together, trying to keep his expressionless face intact as he turned away. He wasn't one to show pain.
Ichigo didn't know how many times his father said he was sorry and tucked him into bed after adjusting the leg support. Ichigo only waved the words away saying it wasn't necessary until he shouted at him to shut up and leave, unable to keep the mental walls up for much longer.
With a sigh and a grimace Ichigo fell back into the covers, finally alone. His entire body felt like it had been beaten with a sledgehammer several times, especially his head. His face crumbled, twisting and contorting in pain. Ichigo wanted nothing more than to crawl into a ball with the covers over his head and cry, just let the tears pour forth until all the moisture that was left in his body was gone, until he dried up and crumbled into dust and ceased to exist. Nothing left.
Ichigo swallowed hard. Even if he wanted to cry, tears would not come, no matter how much his lower lip pushed up and his chest rattled from shaky breaths. He felt like he was dying, rotting as fluids from the IV next to him was the only thing that kept him on the side of the living. But he was slowly dying and he knew it. It was just a matter of time before his hole would start screaming again.
Pressing urges to stop the agony and instincts would soon come, no matter what he did. He hadn't eaten the grey nutrients for how long? It suddenly hit him, he hadn't eaten it for days! His tried eyes darted back and forth in their sockets. Where was it? He should have become an empty shell by now shouldn't he? The more he thought about it, the more he felt the monster stir and he barred his teeth at nothing. Ichigo sat up, the thought and unconscious action very troubling.
Where was it? He had to find it. Now. A growl escaped him, a low hiss. Fuck.
The hole in his chest stabbed him in the back with ache and agony and Ichigo's face darkened. The hunger to stop the horrible and cold feeling crawled over him, so close to the edge now that Ichigo could not bear it any longer and a strangled scream escaped him. He had to find the nutrients before it was too late.
Quickly and unthinkingly he moved out of bed, toppling over instantly and hitting the floor flat out, his skull slamming into the floor-boards and the IV needle was painfully wrenched out of his arm. An angry and pained wail escaped.
Soon, to his dismay, the anger exploded into fury and a huger for blood so intense swept over him that he had clench his teeth and struggle to keep from letting loose his roar of primal rage. He twisted on the cold ground, his weak muscles flexing madly as he tried to get up from the floor without much success. His mind was slipping and he was loosing focus. With every movement a low murmur of beast-like sounds was heard from him.
It troubled Isshin greatly as he had stopped in the small hallway of Ichigo's room. He had come to help again after hearing the sound of his son falling. He had stayed on the second floor, not stupid enough to go too far away from his son. He had never housed a hollow before, even if the one that was his son ate things to suppress the urges to kill. So therefore he still kept his guard high. He even had the badge his son had required years ago in his jean's pocket, just to be on the safe side if things got too much out of hand.
Feeling like he was stabbed in the heart several times when he saw Ichigo, Isshin tried to stop himself from calling out in worry. Ichigo was laying face down on the floor, his legs kicking behind him and arm twitching and moving over the wooden boards stiffly, like he was unable to move properly.
Carefully Isshin approached the gurgling boy, whose head instantly snapped up, teeth barred like fangs, lips pulled back and eyes wide. He looked mad and crazy and Isshin had to struggle to keep calm. He didn't know what to do, but shamefully glad that Ichigo didn't seem to manage to get up from the floor.
"M-Mmm-make it... s-stooop!" Ichigo suddenly stuttered out, the twitching and uncontrolled movements Isshin realised were from Ichigo trying to stop himself from attacking rampant.
But Ichigo didn't stay on the ground for much longer, his instincts going haywire with a shinigami so close and his eating hole biting so hard at his body and soul. It was like sirens blared in his skull; attack, attack, attack and he found himself giving in to it willingly, embracing it with his entire being.
Without thinking anymore, Ichigo darted up from the floor. His hand clawed at his father as his body slammed into Isshin, his mouth open and ready to consume. A shout left Isshin as he was pushed into the wardrobe door, but acting quickly he grabbed his son's thrashing arm by the wrist, holding it in the air away from himself. Ichigo struggled, trying to pull himself free. A skinny, barefooted leg darted out, in a pathetic try to kick free from the hand that gripped him. He couldn't even register who it was anymore.
But the kick had been weak and hadn't hurt when it had hit Isshin, whom started to push Ichigo back, who only snarled at him. Isshin kept holding his sons arm in a way and pulling it so Ichigo had to move backwards or his arm would dislocate. Isshin hoped Ichigo wasn't too mad yet to let it do that in order to draw his blood.
It worked, Ichigo slowly moving backwards even when he was attacking, but it was hard for him to do anything hostile as he still couldn't walk properly, even if pain was a small part of attention now. The pain couldn't push through the thick layer of desires that had wrapped around his brain like a snake around its prey.
Isshin wondered how killing someone could becomes such a desperate need as he struggled with his son, trying his best to move Ichigo towards the bed where he hoped he could secure him somehow. Isshin wondered what could change his once caring and kind son into a wild beast so easily in the blink of an eye. Desperately wondered how raging hunger could change a person so fast and so sudden. Or was Ichigo simply too easily influenced by its strong grip…?
He didn't know, and didn't really have time to think about it as he regretfully had to punch Ichigo in the face to keep him at bay. He knew talking to Ichigo now was futile and hoped overpowering him would perhaps make him subside a little. As when a lower ranked lion obeyed the roar from the alpha male in a pride.
With a hard shove, to get Ichigo close enough to the bed, he pushed Ichigo just after letting go of his arm. He knew that the desire to be careful with Ichigo due to his injuries was something he had to overlook and with yet another hard push he forced Ichigo's writhing body to lie down. But Ichigo wasn't down for long, only a few seconds passed before he tried to claw Isshin eyes out.
His father recoiled, just narrowly managing to avoid the attack. For a split second he wondered how his son could move so fast in the corporeal body. At least he was still as weak in it as a human body naturally was. Again he pushed Ichigo back, but this time he shoved Ichigo down with a firm grip on the both shoulders and didn't let go. Ichigo screamed wildly in response, his face still deranged and eyes mad, clouded over as Isshin stared into them.
"Ichigo! Calm down!" He shouted over Ichigo's yell.
"What's going on!" A bright voice suddenly came over the screams of both males.
The two instantly froze, Isshin turning his shoulders and head to look around to see Karin standing in the narrow hallway. Her eyes were wide and worried at the sight before her, something she hadn't expected the least when walking home from school.
However Isshin couldn't look for long as Ichigo suddenly tried to get away with new vigour. He slunk out of Isshin's grip and instantly flung himself at his sister. But Isshin was fast and got a grip on Ichigo's right shoulder, pulling back and slamming Ichigo into the floor, Ichigo's back hitting the ground with a thud and a pained yelp.
"Get out Karin!" Isshin instantly barked as Ichigo lay dazed, his order firm and Karin did not hesitate on leaving when she heard Ichigo scream so very unnaturally again after she had moved out of his sight. She darted into her room, quickly closing the door behind her afraid that the thing that was her brother might come after her again and her father unable to stop him.
Isshin wrestled with his son, whom didn't seem to want to stop attacking no matter what. Isshin was getting desperate as he pinned Ichigo the floor again. He didn't know how to stop his son, how to calm him down. He tried with speaking his name, but it had no effect, no matter what he said seemed to be heard.
He was getting tried; it was so hard to fight against his own, troubled and injured son. He loved his son, thus it was so hard to hit him. His heartstrings were about to burst as he clenched harder on the left shoulder and arm, holding Ichigo firmly against the floor as he sat down on him, forcing the boy into the floor.
Ichigo screamed again, the alarm in his brain ringing higher and higher the more time passed, the more viscously the monster fought, there was no way he was going to let his soul be ripped into oblivion and become a shell of nothing. Every cell in his body was against it. And on top off him the solution beamed, the glorious light that flicked on and off as the shinigami blinked. With a twitching motion Ichigo tried to shove his face up to sink his teeth into the soft eyeballs, but he was held down. He screamed again. He needed that light as his. Now.
Being taken aback by a sudden blast off dark spirit energy and Isshin's grip loosened over the shoulders, Ichigo's upper body flung up, his free hand slinking behind his dad's neck and his teeth sank into the soft flesh of the neck. But his human teeth weren't sharp, and no blood was drawn before he had been pushed back against the floor, once more struggling against the hard grip of his father.
The attack had hurt Isshin, but nothing serious. However he knew he had to do something to stop his demented son from his madness. With what! What stopped the ranging monster? Killing it did, but he was never going to do that. What… what! His thoughts were jumbled as he struggled with his son. But suddenly it hit him.
That food! That Ichigo had hidden in his room and Yuzu had found the steel container when cleaning it. Isshin had placed in the refrigerator, figuring it was food of some sort so keeping it cold was something to do to stop it getting old.
"Karin!" He shouted, hoping his daughter would hear him.
At first he got no response, but after shouting a second time Karin came running but still looking afraid, as she saw the two were still fighting and Ichigo still seemed to act like he was a monster with no control.
"What?" She asked hurriedly as she saw Ichigo starting to try and get loose with a bit more fire.
"Get-" He was cut short from having to push down harder again and sit still as Ichigo started to kick with his leg furiously. "Get a tube, a syringe and the steel box that's in the refrigerator!"
"Y-yes!" Karin stuttered, not asking twice and immediately headed downstairs for the kitchen and hospital part for the items.
Quickly she returned again, handing Isshin the tube, where she had already inserted the filled syringe and placed the open steel container on the floor. Isshin grabbed the tube with one hand, which immediately made Ichigo trying to rise up and attack again. Quickly he let go of the item and forced his son down again.
"Can you hold his arm down?" He asked, his voice stressed. Karin didn't say anything, but moved to put both her hands on his arm, leaning all her weight on her own arms to hold her brother's firm.
Isshin grabbed for the tube again, grabbed at Ichigo's head, pushing it down at the forehead before he looked around unsure about how to get the transparent tube down his son's mouth. But Karin seemed to notice and let go of one hand and placed it over the forehead instead, seeming to be strong enough to still hold Ichigo down, even when his arm and head bumped up and down a little, his sister unable to keep the limbs completely flat against the floor.
Working fast, Isshin quickly passed a feeding tube through the nose, not wanting to guide it through the mouth, knowing then he would be bitten. Ichigo tried to move away at the intrusion in his nose, but seemed not to notice it too much; the only thing that made it show that he did was the less frequent mad screaming. His eyes however were still just as cloudy and deranged.
Carefully yet quickly his father worked, inserting the tube longer and longer, he could even see it in the back of his son's throat when he roared. It helped however; as he could easily see that he had gotten it down the right way. Once hoping it was down far enough, he quickly grabbed Ichigo's limb and forehead again, telling Karin to grab the syringe.
The grey substance seeped through and moved sluggishly down the tube and to both Karin's and Isshin's dismay the syringe had to be refilled from the steel tray several times to get his son back to normal. Eventually after four slow and hard refills of the plastic syringe, Ichigo seemed to start reacting.
Slowly his struggling stopped and instead short shouts that Isshin realised after four of them were laughs. Why in the world was a he laughing?
However after four or five more filled syringe's content was pushed into his stomach to mingle with his gastric acid, Ichigo suddenly, to both shock, seemed to start crying. His nose run, his eyes watered slightly and his face contorted and a wail instead of a scream pushed past trembling lips.
"Dad, why is he crying!" Karin asked desperately, suddenly wanting to stop pushing the grey goo down the transparent tube, thinking she was torturing her brother.
"I-I don't know," Isshin stuttered, startled all the same by the massive change in manners. Letting go of Ichigo, who had stopped struggling, he rose from the ground to get off the boy.
"Hey… Ichigo," Isshin tried, his as son's eyes were not clouded over now and the disturbed expression was after all gone. It was worth a try.
He wasn't earned with any hint of being a heard for some time, but after saying his sons name again and shaking his shoulder lightly, he watched Ichigo's eyes blink the tears away and his face seem to transform into a sharp expression of indifferent nothing as Ichigo's own personality seemed to kick back into gear. His gaze passed over the two family-members and with a groan he struggled to sit up. Revealed sighs released the breath both Isshin and Karin hadn't known they had been holding.
Ichigo's breath was slow, yet heavy. His mind was fuzzy and his heart hammered wildly in his ribcage from emotional strain. He swallowed, finding his mouth as dry as a desert and he turned to face his father and sister. He didn't know what to say, he knew what he had been doing, but not strong enough to not give in. He could still feel the monster scream and tear at its chains to free itself and resume its hunt to regain life and ecstasy. Ichigo did his best to ignore it.
"Sorry…" He squeaked. "We…"
"It's alright, Ichigo," Isshin said, Karin nodding in agreement as she smiled slightly.
"No!" Ichigo's voice was harder now. "It's not alright…" He sat up a little better, turning his body to face the two better. He could see that Isshin didn't really know what to say either.
"Yes it is. We managed to stop it together," Karin filled in for him. "It's over, no need to worry anymore."
"But it will come back Karin, it's always there… lurking under our skin," Ichigo looked away.
"Then we will stop it again," Karin insisted, not hundred percent sure what her brother was talking about, but she had a pretty good guess. "And if it still comes back, we will stop it then too."
A silence formed over the tree as Ichigo didn't respond, not looking at the two. The only sound that came between them was the short grunt and gasp from Ichigo as the migraine that always joined the eating of his food came over him. But he had become accustomed to the dark pain that rolled frequently across his head from its effects. But he could deal with it because the drug kept him lucid, kept the terrible darkness at bay, at least for the moment.
Eventually Isshin rose from the floor, helping Ichigo back into his bed and replacing the IV carefully and stayed with his son for a while. He sat with his back turned to Ichigo, reading a random book he had gotten from the bookcase after Ichigo had said he could stay, as long as he didn't see his eyes, claiming it would make it harder for him to calm down. Shrugging, Isshin accepted that, as long as he could be in the same room as his son he was glad.
The days bled together, everyone following the same pattern to Ichigo, the same pain and the same eating emptiness always there and seemed to be a little more pressing after his fresh meeting with its beast. He felt hollow inside; gray, cold and empty.
His father came every morning and evening to give him medicine and lunch and dinner in between, coming to give him the grey drug to suppress the unyielding urges that never stopped biting at his soul. Ichigo wondered when he would run out and what he would do when it did. He couldn't defeat the hunger he knew that. Attack his father again, until he got what he wanted, or they locked him up in a room? Until he was an unresponsive shell of whom he once was… He didn't want that.
So he stayed still, in a frail attempt of reserving power. The ever eating agony radiated from within the flesh, eating him alive faster for each passing night. He felt like he was rotting away in his bed, slowly dissolving into shapeless dust. But that was he had wanted wasn't it? Disappear. Maybe he didn't, yet he knew he did in many ways… The boy sighed as he didn't know what he wanted anymore.
The day slowly passed, the world disappearing into a blur of a half sleeping state and Wednesday turned into Thursday.
But as the boy woke up, his father had insisted on Ichigo getting dressed today and carried him down stairs to the sofa. At first Isshin had darted back and forth giving him his medicine and something to eat. The boy had reluctantly consumed it all.
It had turned his mood a little brighter as he leaned back, the single piece of toast and orange juice making him feel full and he fought the urge to go and throw it up in the toilet as he still wasn't used to have something in his stomach. He still couldn't help but think the food was repulsive, as it had no effect on him. It was nothing compared to the life of a soul. No matter how shameful it was to admit.
But as the clock ticked past lunch, Ichigo sank into the couch. Slowly his eyes clouded over as he dwelled in the emptiness in his heart and he cradled his arm that remained numb and limp. But it wasn't long until his father was in front of him, waving a hand in his face and grabbing his shoulder to get his attention as he smiled softly. Ichigo squirmed.
"Let go." He slurred out automatically, turning away. He was being depressed; couldn't his father see that?
"You shouldn't sit inside all day Ichigo," his father sat down next to him. "You'll been in your room for two weeks now not doing anything but watching television and sleeping. You'll get depressed."
God, couldn't he see he was that already? Ichigo frowned. "What would you have us do? Sit outside on a bench like a bum?" He asked, his voice turning a little sour. "There's nothing else we can do."
"You can always go back to school!" Isshin beamed at his son. Ichigo gave him an irritated look.
"We can't even walk, how you can expect us to get into the classroom when we can't even get up these stairs!" Ichigo asked exasperatedly and motioned toward said stairs in the house.
"Sure you can walk with the cane! And daddy has already gotten Ichigo keys for the elevator!" Isshin bellowed, wrenching the keys from his pocket and holding them up into to air like it was some sort of gleaming prize. Ichigo's eyes twitched and he tried not to scream in annoyance.
But before he knew it the keys were shoved down his pocket and his father lifted him into his arms and practically ran outside with him screaming in protest. Ignoring his son's threats to kill him Isshin opened the door to the car and put Ichigo in the front seat.
"What are you doing!" He asked again, once his father had tucked him inside. "We don't even have shoes on! And our stuff!" Ichigo's eyes widened. "We need something if we're gonna be there!" The teen tried his best to get out, but pain shot through his leg and he grunted as he slumped back into the seat.
"Don't worry son! Daddy will take care of everything!" The old man shouted with a bit too much enthusiasm for his son's liking and stormed off to fetch the belongings. It wasn't long until Isshin was back with Ichigo's messenger bag, shoes and jacket in hand. The boy struggled as his father smiled warmly at him and helped him to put on his shoes.
The jacket was easier to get on despite the sling and the belt put on. His father was soon in the drivers seat again, but before they managed to drive anywhere though, Ichigo quickly looked into his bag to see if what he need was in there. He saw the metal container glimmer inside, a spoon attached to it in a hurry with some tape. Ichigo looked up at his father, his eyes meeting with Isshin's reassuring gaze.
"Too school it is!" Isshin suddenly bellowed and with the tires screeching he hit the gas.
End of Chapter