Warning: If you are squeamish, especially about medical-related/body stuff, proceed with caution. Also, questionable use of a condom. I refuse to say further, thanks for reading!
Chad kept the newspaper folded in his lap, religiously regarding the crossword with his brows creased.
"Murder," he rumbled, "Four letters."
"Kill," Ichigo spat, from across the cell, glaring daggers at Ishida.
"Maim," Ishida replied, regarding Ichigo with an equally icy stare.
Chad raised his eyebrows, looking back and forth between the two of them. That immediately had them snapping out of it, both boys suddenly very interested in going back to what they were doing before Chad broke the silence.
Since their fight from two days ago, Ichigo and Ishida had resorted to a civil, but stony silence. It wasn't odd for them to get like this every once in a while – cabin fever was almost a real, living thing and Ichigo and Ishida tended to be volatile. In fact, Ichigo's nose was still quite red to prove it.
But with the added elements of Hirako Shinji and Inoue Orihime, things seemed to be tense. Ichigo was mainly worried about Orihime, who had become an unintentional accomplice, and his relationship, which had been blown to cinders. Ishida was mainly hurt about his wounded pride.
Chad opened his mouth, then closed it again. There were few things he could say to ease the tension, so he went back to perusing the crossword.
The silence was meant to be short-lived however, when the overhead speaker suddenly crackled.
"All inmates step out of your cells for inspection," the robotic voice droned. "I repeat, all inmates step out of your cells for inspection."
The doors buzzed, then groaned and swung open. Inmates slowly began piling outside their cells, coming out to stand on the walkway.
Ichigo, Ishida and Chad's heads snapped up at once, the fear and shock blatant in each of their eyes, clear as day.
"I thought shakedown wasn't until the end of the month," Ichigo hissed urgently under his breath, as Ishida began scrambling towards the little nook behind the toilet where they hid their blunt-edged screw. He retrieved it, quickly hiding it in his palm.
"It's because of the riot," Chad said, quickly standing up with the rest of them. The recent riot had given inmates a lot of leeway; it wasn't unheard of for the guards to prepone inspection as a measure against any weapons or tools being nicked. But the tool in Ishida's hand…
They stared at each other with bated breath. "Under the bed?" Chad suggested, glancing at the glinting, two-inch metal hidden in Ishida's hand.
Ishida shook his head. "They almost always check there first," he explained, palms slick with sweat. It felt like he was holding a ticking time-bomb, the way the otherwise innocuous metal occupied his palm.
"Here," Ichigo handed his sock, flapping it urgently at Ishida. "Shove it in there."
"Open up on 39!" They heard the guard shout.
Ishida frowned. "Do you not understand what a shakedown means?" he whisper-shouted. "They are definitely going to check your stinky socks, Kurosaki!"
"Fuck," Ichigo growled in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck!"
Ishida glanced at the vent. If they had the time, they could have opened the lock and thrown in the metaphorical key. But they didn't.
"Open up on 40!"
There wasn't enough time and frankly, Ishida had too much riding on this escape for their plan to hitch on one, unforeseen consequence. He scanned his surroundings, the gears in his brain scrambling rapidly to find a solution. It screeched to a halt when there was a flash of an idea – albeit a very risky, very uncertain one.
He took a deep, steadying breath. "Quick," he rapped Ichigo on the elbow. "Does anyone have a condom?"
Ichigo blinked, then opened his mouth. "I know you're stressed but I'm pretty sure that isn't the appropriate reaction to–"
"Condom!" he hissed, staring at both boys pointedly. Chad then yanked his sheet back, lifting the little tin box under the pillow. He withdrew one foil pocket, tossing it at Ichigo.
Ichigo caught it with one hand, immediately pushing it towards Ishida, who snatched it and began tearing it open. "What–"
The ripping noise was evident, even through the sounds of all three of their loud and rapid breathing. Ishida stuffed the tool inside the opened condom with shaky hands and tied it up, impervious to the fact that Ichigo and Chad were watching him with gaping mouths.
He closed his eyes, took one last, deep inhale. Then, he opened his mouth and swallowed it.
The entire thing, round-edged screw wrapped in a condom.
The up-and-down bob of Ishida's throat only indicated as much.
"Open up on 42!"
Ichigo and Chad jerked out of their shock suddenly, turning to regard the guard. As the man walked in to check their cell, not a single one of them even breathed. Out of the corner of his eye, Ichigo stared in bewilderment at Ishida. Apart from looking chalky white and gripping the sides of his arms tightly, the latter gave no indication that anything was out of the ordinary.
Ichigo only vaguely registered the guard ambling around, still in severe befuddlement over what had happened. Clothes, dust bins and bed sheets were ruffled and dragged aside, books and napkins examined and shaken open in the background, but it was just idle noise to his ears.
"Arms and legs up, wide apart," the guard announced, snapping him out of his daze. Ichigo mechanically T-posed, feeling lines of sweat slick down his forehead and his armpits as the guard began patting him down. Two fingers slid his mouth open on either side as the guard flashed a light in. Seeming satisfied, he moved onto Chad.
While the guard was patting down Chad, Ichigo felt his ears ring and vibrate with his heartbeat. The elephant in the room was obvious, even more evident with the way Ishida was clutching himself. No one spoke a word as the man passed from Chad to Ishida, though Ichigo could have very well heard his cellmates' heartbeats.
After what seemed like the longest pat down in history, the guard was satisfied enough to begin trudging out of the cell.
Ichigo waited one whole second, then another, but before he could turn on his heel, there was a loud 'thud' against the floor.
"Ishida, what the fuck!" he bellowed at the crumpled figure. Chad was already falling to his knees, cradling Ishida's head straight into his lap as he groaned. "Why the fuck–!"
"It had to be done," Ishida retorted hoarsely, grabbing Chad's hand to hoist himself up. On his way however, a sharp wince jabbed his gut and he immediately collapsed back against the floor. This time, Chad's large hand protected him from the fall, but it meant little in the grand scheme of shivers racking up his body. There was an – albeit small – foreign object on its way to his belly and his body was, naturally, reacting.
Ichigo got to his knees, feeling lines of nervous sweat start to drip down his forehead. Shit. Shit!
"Ichigo," Chad gasped, his eyes blown wide in fear, "Call the guard."
In his arms, Ishida was still conscious, but his spine had begun to jerk in little back and forth, convulsing spurts.
Ichigo felt his knees tremble as he sprang up and crossed the distance of their bodies to reach their locked cell door. He began banging his fist against the cool metal, ignoring the sharp pain that shot up his elbow as he peered out through the latticework of bars. "Guard!" he hollered, "Abarai! We need a doctor in here!"
He jerked back over his shoulder when Ishida started letting out little puffs of breaths and groans. Chad was trying to haul him into a comfortable position, but he seemed volatile in his convulsive state. His eyes were hazy, a thin line of drool already starting to drip past his chin.
Ichigo turned around banged harder, the already forming bruises on his knuckles turning fresh with pain. "Abarai!" he yelled, trying to rattle the bars back and forth to no avail. "We need a doctor!"
At the sound of heavy footsteps, he jumped back – careful to avoid stepping on Chad and Ishida. The tremors in his fingers seemed to be competing with the rapid pick-up of his heartbeat.
"Open up on 42!" Renji declared, already stepping in to examine the damage as the doors rattled open. When he saw Ishida's slumped figure, he flinched. "Shit." He was already jerking the sleeve of his shoulder, bringing the two-way radio up to his mouth, "This is Abarai to base; we need a doctor ASAP in gen-pop, cell #42. Is Dr. Inoue in?"
"Give me just a minute, Abarai-san," the voice chimed back.
Renji stared from Ishida, to Chad, and finally to Ichigo. His gaze dropped to Ichigo's clenched fists, then lifted to pop his head around the cell and see what the hell was taking so long at base. On cue, his radio clicked,
"She's just been dispatched, sir," the attendant reported, "She's headed your way as we speak."
"Thanks," Renji quipped, his posture steady as he made space around the cell for the doctor's arrival. If he found the timing between shakedown and Ishida's sudden bout of seizures a little off, he didn't mention it.
Ichigo collapsed on the bed, eyes bloodshot as he hung his head between his hands. On the floor, Ishida had started choking, but desperately maintained consciousness. Chad was whispering quietly into his ear, running one hand along his back. Ichigo watched, feeling torn apart with the pain of not being able to help, to heal, to do something other than just sit there and…
He heard the rapid click of footsteps, and then, just as he lifted his head, he saw her. Hair messily thrown into a high ponytail as if she was in a rush, face etched in warmth and concern.
Orihime.
Her eyes met his briefly, before skimming down to Ishida's slumped figure with a short gasp. She got on her knees without prompting, already rolling Ishida over to his side.
"He..." Chad started, truly not knowing what to say, as opposed to his usual deliberate silence, "Please, Dr. Inoue."
Orihime lifted her head to see the unbridled fear in his eyes with surprise. She reached across Ishida's body and squeezed Chad's hand.
Feeling a little out of place, Renji stepped out of the cell to give them their privacy.
"It's okay," she assured Chad gently, once she noticed Renji was out of earshot. "I can help. What happened?"
That was a loaded question, in and of itself, even if Renji was outside. Chad and Ichigo exchanged looks.
"I can't help you if you don't help me," she said mildly, not lifting her eyes from her cursory examination of Ishida. When she looked up, there was a knowing look in her eyes, like she could somehow guess what they had been up to. Ichigo supposed it was obvious, considering she knew of their plans.
He swallowed, the faint flicker of his heartbeat flaring when their gazes locked. "He, uh, ate something...not edible," he said lamely.
Orihime's brows furrowed, but she soldiered on, all professional-like. "How large was the object?"
Ishida retched loudly, turning all the occupants' attention to him. He hurled forward, making little choking noises as he gripped his neck with one hand, his side with the other. Orihime hooked one arm around his shoulders, then stared between Chad and Ichigo expectantly.
"Two inches," Chad mumbled, the lines on his forehead etched in worry.
"It was insulated, Dr. Inoue," Ishida wheezed, rousing from his position beside her. "There's no need to worry about internal organ rupture."
Orihime's eyebrows stitched together in confusion as she lifted his jaw to meet his eyes. "Regardless, erm, Ishida-san, swallowing a foreign object poses multiple health risks," she explained rapidly, already guiding their joined bodies out of the cell. When Ichigo saw her buckling under the collective weight, he came up on Ishida's other side to help her.
She craned her head around. "Abarai-san, we might need to fill out a transfer to Tokyo General –"
"Please, Doctor-san," Ishida declared suddenly, flinging himself backward to break the pulling momentum. Ichigo, Orihime, and Ishida flew back at the unexpected force.
Ishida gripped Orihime's arm tightly, despite the intense tremors coursing through his body. "I don't need surgery. You have to understand, I...I can't leave." His hazy eyes flicked to Chad, before pleading with Orihime again. "My sincerest apologies for barking orders at you, but really, all you have to do is sedate me and I'll be alright. I shall excrete the object at the soonest." His voice was hushed, rapid like he was trying not to catch Renji's attention.
Orihime's eyes widened and she looked over him to Ichigo, in question.
"Don't ask," Ichigo replied, with a shrug, "Bastard reads a lot."
Orihime frowned worriedly. "Ishida-san –"
"Please," Ishida begged, rattling her arm almost painfully. In all of Ichigo's years knowing him, he had never seen the man so desperate. So ready to debase his own image for a cause.
Orihime took a steadying breath. Then she quirked her head around the bend of their cell and signalled to Renji, "We need a gurney here, and two guards," she instructed, relieved to see Renji already punching out the respective buttons on his pager, "The patient has to be transferred to the infirmary immediately."
"What about surgery?" Renji asked, lifting his phone. "Tokyo General is on the line."
Orihime sighed, regarding all the three men of cell #42. Their eyes were shining in a collective plea.
"False alarm," she murmured to Renji. "Patient must have ingested something upsetting at dinner – nothing we can't fix over a bunch of laxatives."
Renji nodded, then snapped into motion. There was a flurry of movement, phone calls made, orders barked and people shifted around before two guards and a nurse flocked over to cell #42. There were a lot of spectators from the surrounding cells, but Ichigo's gaze was fixed on Ishida's limp figure being strapped to the stretcher. He was floating in and out of consciousness, but Ichigo noticed his pale fingers beckoning him closer.
He leaned down, bringing his ear close to Ishida's mouth.
"Come and...retrieve it..." he whispered, "During P.I tomorrow…"
When Ichigo looked at him, baffled, he smirked weakly.
As he fell back against the bed, he looked frail, defenceless. Under the mask they had slapped onto his face and the glasses that were yanked off and handed to Orihime, he seemed unrecognizable.
What snapped him out of his misery was a soft hand curling around his wrist with a light squeeze. Slender fingers came down to brush his bruises tenderly, a feather-light touch. Ichigo met Orihime's eyes, the raw ache in his chest turning him helplessly mute. She shook her head and pursed her lips, hoping her eyes could convey what words couldn't at the moment.
She let go of his hand as more guards shuffled in, but stayed close to his side. "He's going to be okay," she said under her breath, solely for him to hear. "I promise."
She looked up at him, like she was trying to gauge his reaction.
His chest hitched, feeling a swarm of relief, exhaustion and love overwhelming his chest like a broken dam. The fact that the last statement sounded so earnest, so tender in opposition to her professional demeanour – he could trust that she meant it. It was bittersweet. It was so her.
His eyes drifted to hers, then to her lips and the soft curve of her jaw, once again feeling undeserving. Even if he didn't exactly have her at the moment.
"I know," he replied feebly, mimicking her low tone. "I believe you."
Once the guards had prepped Ishida, she left his cell and began following him down the long corridors.
Ichigo watched her retreating figure, then turned around and clapped Chad on the shoulder. "You okay?"
Chad grunted, but Ichigo noticed his eyes were wet. He clenched his fists, feeling a sense of urgency throb his pulse. The longer they delayed their escape, it seemed like more of the life they knew was succumbing to the swallowing flames of tragedy.
He settled onto his mattress and stared up at the ceiling.
Sleep was going to be evasive tonight, he could already feel it.
.
For any of you curious about whether or not Ishida's trick happens in real life, it does! Drug smugglers swallow condoms all the time across the border, so there's a little fun (if not horrifying) body fact. As for the medical accuracy, copious amounts of suspension of disbelief is appreciated. Thanks for reading, as always!