Chapter One

What He Should Not Have Seen

Ichigo was just out for a drink or two after class that Friday night. He was a couple years into his medical program at Tokyo University. He just needed to relax and unwind after a particularly rough week with tests and the like. He didn't think anything of going out to this bar; he'd been many times since he turned twenty. It was a nice clean place, and he never doubted his safety there. Granted, Ichigo didn't doubt his safety anywhere. He knew he could still take care of himself even if he didn't have his Shinigami powers anymore.

He was leaving when he heard the weak, pleading voice calling for help. He paused, glancing down the alleyway and saw movement. He didn't think anything of it, he just went to see if there was something he could do. He didn't see that there were men in the darkness, and as he got closer, one dark figure pulled out a gun and shot the cowering figure across the ally. Ichigo stopped, eyes going wide, and realized he'd been spotted.

He turned and tried to run but was tackled from behind by someone that was a lot closer than he anticipated. He felt the concrete rough under his cheek as he was dragged to his feet back down the alleyway.

He found himself facing a man with black hair spiked all over his head and a gun. "What is this? A witness?"

Ichigo stared at him. "I didn't see a thing," he said, trying to look serious.

The man who was holding him chuckled. "Good try," he said.

"Show him what happens to witnesses, boys," the one with the gun said.

Ichigo didn't know how long it lasted, but there were three of them who laid into him. He fought back, of course, but he was dulled due to the drinks he'd had, and he wasn't very effective. He was eventually bloodied and on his knees staring up the barrel of the gun.

"Now, what to do? Oh, add your body to this one," he said and there was a click. Ichigo closed his eyes, ready to make his way to Soul Society for sure.

"Freeze!" he heard and turned his head to see men running down the ally.

"Fuck," the one with the gun said and took off, the ones holding him running after him, leaving Ichigo teetering there until he fell over.

Soon, he was in the back of an ambulance, but he didn't remember how he got there. He looked over and saw a paramedic doing something, so he just shut his eyes for a little while since he was very, very tired. When he next woke up, he was staring at an unfamiliar ceiling.

"Son?" he heard.

He turned his head and saw his father. "Pop?" he said, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm your emergency contact, remember? They called me when they brought you in. You got beat up pretty bad. What happened?"

Ichigo shook his head, which felt funny. "I heard someone call for help down the ally. I went to see what was happening, and I saw this man shoot another one. Then they grabbed me, and I tried to fight them but there were three guys, and I wasn't all the way sober. They were going to shoot me, but the cops showed up," he explained.

His father sighed. "Son, this could be bad."

"I know that," he said as a couple of officers came into the room.

"Ichigo Kurosaki?" one of them asked.

"Yeah," he answered, looking between them.

"I'm Officer Mabuchi Tatsuno, Kurosaki-san. And this is my partner Gesshin Nakatani," the first one, the taller one with hair pulled back in a long black tail, said.

Nakatani was shorter and just nodded in acknowledgement. Ichigo looked between them. "Okay, I guess you want to know what I saw, huh?"

"Yeah, just in your own words," Tatsuno said, pulling out a notebook and a pen.

Ichigo went through the explanation again, almost the same one he'd given his father, and watched as the two men took down his information. They didn't say anything while he explained what happened, and then they both looked at him when he was done.

"You don't have any identifying features of any of these men?" Nakatani asked.

"It was dark in the alleyway. I just saw the guy with the gun had spiked hair, but that was about it," he said.

The two officers didn't look like they were interested in what they were doing. "Okay, well, I'd watch your back for a while. Guns are hard to come by in Tokyo, so it was probably Yakuza. You didn't identify anyone directly, so that's good, but you never know what they'll do," Tatsuno said with a shrug. "We'll look into the murder, though, see if the bullet matches anything else."

"That's it?" Ichigo said, a little incredulous. "That's all you're going to do for that guy that got killed?"

"Listen, kid, there's not much we can do," Nakatani said. "We'll do what we can, but you might want to go back to Karakura Town where you're from."

"How do you know that?" Ichigo frowned.

"We already talked to your father, so we know about where you used to live," Tatsuno said. "I'd watch out, though."

With that, they left, leaving Ichigo wondering what was going to happen. He looked at his father. "What should I do?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, son, but maybe coming home would be a good idea. They say they're going to release you tomorrow. You had some pretty bad injuries, but nothing that won't heal, especially if we can get you home to Orihime."

"Knock, knock," came a familiar voice. Ichigo looked up to see the bucket hat wearing Kisuke Urahara.

"Getabishi," he said, smiling. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Ah, well, Kurosaki-san told me about your scuffle, and I thought I'd check in on you," he said with a grin.

Kisuke walked over and placed a hand on his arm. Ichigo felt his face heat for some reason, but he shook the thought away and looked at him. "It's a long way when I'll get out tomorrow."

Kisuke winked at him. "Well, I had to see my best Vizard."

Again, Ichigo felt some kind of strange rush at being praised by him. Perhaps it was just the fact that he'd been his teacher, he wasn't sure, but that comment was embarrassing to say the least. He put a hand to his head.

"What kind of injuries did you suffer?" Kisuke asked him, still holding onto his arm.

Ichigo looked over to Isshin. "What did they do to me?"

"They said you had a concussion, two broken ribs, bruised liver and kidneys, and a dislocated wrist," Isshin said.

Ichigo looked down at his bandaged right wrist. "Ah, I see. I don't hurt anywhere, why's that?"

Isshin smiled. "They've got you on pain killers right now, son. They'll wean you off by morning. For now, why don't you get some rest?"

Ichigo sighed and nodded, though he still felt Kisuke's hand on him. He didn't really want Kisuke to leave, though. As strange as it was, he really liked having Kisuke around. It made him feel protected, in a way, and that was a strange sensation for Ichigo. He was normally the one protecting others, so to have such feelings for a much older man, a teacher, even, was strange.

Kisuke stepped back. "Alright, I'll see you both back in Karakura Town tomorrow, then?" he said.

"Yeah, I'll be taking him home at least for the weekend," his father said with a nod.

"See you later, Getabishi," he said with a smile.

-oooooo-OOOOOO-oooooo-

Ichigo spent the next couple weeks in Karakura Town, arranging with his professors to do his work online. Once he told them what happened, they were willing to work with him for a little while. Plus, midterms had already happened, so he just had to keep caught up on works for the finals in the next few weeks. Orihime had healed his injuries the day he got back sitting at Kisuke's place. He'd thanked her, and she blushed and fretted on him. He ignored her in favor of listening to Kisuke's latest work. After that was done, he spent most his time at home with his sisters who were in high school. It was honestly nice to see everyone for a bit, as he'd been so wrapped up in school lately.

He visited Uryū and Chad, and he found that Chad was teaching boxing at a local ring. He knew he was getting into the professional circuit these days, so he promised to cheer him on even if he was in Tokyo. Everyone wanted to know what happened to him, and he just told them he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and got jumped by some gang members. He didn't go into details, but honestly, he had no details to give.

After about three weeks, he decided it was safe to return to Tokyo and to school. So, he boarded the train headed back to Tokyo. He dozed off part way, so he wasn't sure where exactly he was when he woke when someone painfully pressed something into his ribs. He blinked and looked next to him to see a man with spiked black hair and beady eyes. Ichigo looked down and realized the painful thing in his ribs was the barrel of a gun.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here," said the man beside him.

"Who are you?" Ichigo asked.

"Who I am doesn't really matter. Who you are does. You see, you can't be allowed to live with the knowledge knocking around in your head of what you saw, so you're coming back with me to see my boss. He'll probably want to kill you, but we'll see. Sometimes he wants to play with his victims some, so we will find out when we get there."

Ichigo looked around and realized that other than him, the only people in the train car were the guy beside him and three more men standing at the doors. He swallowed, remembering the police and how they'd reacted. Or rather, how they didn't react. The rest of the ride, Ichigo sat thinking about his life, and thinking that death wouldn't be the end, so he was somewhat at peace with it. If this was how he died, he would at least die for a reason. He tried to help someone, and that led to his end. Surprisingly, he was calm.

The train stopped, and he was ushered out, gun hidden underneath the other man's jacket. He took him to a waiting car and pushed him into the back seat and got in too. Ichigo was silent, though, still thinking about passing on and what it would be like to be in Soul Society again. They arrived at what looked like a warehouse of some sort, and he was forced out of the car and into the door. He was led up the elevator with the four men, and into a lavish looking office. If they were going to kill him, they wouldn't do it here, he thought.

"So, this is our witness?" the man behind the desk said, getting up and walking around.

"Ichigo Kurosaki. He has family in Karakura Town. A father who runs a clinic and two sisters in secondary school." The man with the gun shoved him forward.

"Ichigo, huh? What a cute name. Tell me, do you bleach your hair?" he asked, looking him over.

"What?" Ichigo frowned. "No. I don't. It's that color already," he hated that question, even when he was literally under a gun.

"Hmm," he said. "I was just going to have my boys shoot you, but I think I have a better idea," he said, turning and going back behind the desk.

Ichigo's eyes widened. "What do you mean? You're just going to kill me for what I saw!"

"Oh, no, see I have use for you. See, there's a man in New York by the name of Ernesto Russo. He has an unhealthy fetish for Asians. Unfortunately, we need something from him. And you're going to be what we trade." He smiled and crossed his legs looking at him.

Ichigo stared at him. "Wait, no, you can't do this!" They weren't going to kill him? They had to kill him so he could go back to Soul Society again!

"Tie him up and have him shipped on the next cargo ship," the man behind the desk said.

Ichigo shook off the one who tried to grab him. He wasn't going to go be some commodity for trading to some American bastard. He tried to get to the man behind the desk, but he felt something crack the back of his skull. The world blanked.

Some time later, he woke with a splitting headache. He tried to move but he was tied at the wrist and ankle. He turned his head and found he was in some sort of cargo container. The world was rocking, so he had to be on a ship. He swallowed hard and put his head on the metal floor. They seriously were shipping him like some thing to this man in America. Was anyone from home going to find him? He had no idea, but he hoped they didn't come for him, because it would put them in danger.

The trip was long. At first, he began to wonder if they were just going to let him starve or dehydrate, because it was at least a day before the door opened on the cargo ship. There were men, at least three, and they dragged him out of the cargo container to a cell where they locked him up. He at least had access to a toilet and food, as meager as it was. They kept him in barely enough food and water to survive, but it would be almost four weeks before they pulled into the port at California. He only knew where they were after he overheard the men talking about where they were at. He didn't hear where in California. It wasn't like he would have benefited from knowing it.

"Time to go," one of the men said, coming and opening the cell. He had three other men with him, too.

He would have tried to escape, but the man had a taser on him. He gestured for him to come out. "Gimme yer hands," he said.

He held out his hands and one of the other men wrapped rope around them tightly. He was worried about his circulation, too, because his fingers were going numb. He walked in front of the men with his head down while one of him led him by a rope. He winced as he came out into the lights. It was night, but the lights on the deck of the ship were bright. He was yanked forward and to a set of stairs leading off the ship. No one said anything to him as he walked past dock workers and other people along the way. In fact, no one even looked at him. He was loaded into the back of a black car.

Another hour later, they pulled to a stop, and he was ushered from the car across a tarmac to a waiting jet. It looked like some sort of private jet, so obviously this guy was loaded. That didn't make it anymore acceptable to take a person and use them like a thing. He was yanked roughly to get moving toward the stairs leading into the plane. He sighed, seeing no opportunities to get away, not with the four men surrounding him, and the one with a taser. And he had no idea how many carried guns in America.

He was taken and shoved into one of the seats and the rope was tied to a bar on the seat in front of him. The men sat around him, and he noticed the people on this jet were staring at him now and then. They didn't say anything, though, so obviously they worked for this man he was being taken to. The flight wasn't very long, maybe a little over five hours, and they were landing again. He was starting to get nervous because he had no idea what was to be expected from him. He had a thought, but he was also hoping that this guy would just kill him instead of torturing him or whatever. He hoped the Yakuza guy hadn't been serious when he referred to this guy as having a fetish for Asians. That didn't bode well for him.

One of the men got up and untied the rope from the seat in front of him and yanked him to his feet again. He was led back down the stairs, and they stopped at the bottom. The men all stood waiting as a luxurious car pulled up in front of them. The back door opened, and a tall, rugged looking man got out. He was probably six foot six and was broad in the shoulder. He closed the door and walked toward them. He had brown hair cut short, and from what Ichigo could see in the dim light that he was wearing a fancy suit and a tie. He was imposing, to say the least.

"Is this my prize?" he said as he approached.

"Russo-san, may I present Ichigo Kurosaki," the one holding the rope said in heavily accented English.

"Are you sure he's Asian?" Russo asked, frowning as he stepped forward. He reached out and grabbed Ichigo's hair.

"I assure you, Russo-san. His parents are both Japanese. His hair color is natural," the one speaking continued.

"Hmm, his eyes are right," he said, twisting Ichigo's head.

"Fuck off," Ichigo managed in English. He was a bit rusty, but he had learned English in school. He'd picked up the curse words from an English-speaking exchange student.

The man in front of him smiled. "Good, he's got spirit. I'll enjoy breaking him. Put him in the car."

The men from the Yakuza didn't move yet. "You promised to exchange this one for the agreement with us," he said.

"Oh, yes, I suppose you expect I'll sign for it, don't you?" Russo said, smirking and reaching a hand out.

The Yakuza man handed him a manila folder. Russo opened it and pulled a pen from his pocket, scratching out a signature on several places. "He better be worth what you're getting."

"You asked for a strong-willed Asian boy. He is older than you wanted, but this is what we were able to get for you to fit your tastes," the Yakuza took the folder back and then one of the others led Ichigo to the car, where he shoved him into the back seat. The door shut and Ichigo felt his heart beat harder in his chest.

The other door opened, and Russo got in, sitting beside him. "Take us home, Carlos," he said to the driver. He then turned to Ichigo. "We'll have quite the initiation when we get home."

Ichigo swallowed, looking at him. His look didn't waver though, and Russo seemed to only smile broader, then he reached out and slid a hand up his thigh. Ichigo jerked and decided there went the idea that this was just going to be torture and death.

"Sensitive?" Russo asked, sliding his hand up and cupping Ichigo's crotch. He squeezed his legs together a little tighter.

"Are you gay already or are you a straight boy?" he said, squeezing him through his jeans.

Ichigo swallowed and shrugged. "I don't know," he managed, really not wanting to make this guy angry with his hands on his balls.

He pulled back, then, smiling. "I'm very straight, you know. I only like women, with the rare exception of young, lithe, Asian boys like you. Maybe it's the fact you're all small dicked, or you have little to no body hair, I just love to take one like you and make you scream in pain. I just can't do that to a woman, you know. I have never, and would never, be violent with a woman. After all, men protect women, don't they?" he asked, looking at him.

Ichigo stared at him, wondering what was wrong with this guy. "Why?"

He chuckled. "Because I can, isn't that enough?"

-oooooo-OOOOOO-oooooo-

Ichigo was in trouble because he knew he couldn't get away easily once he was taken into the huge mansion this guy lived in. There were guards everywhere, and he knew that there would be no getting out of this place once he was in it. But there was no opportunity to escape yet. He had to hold on until one presented itself. The driver, Carlos, had led him into the house, and was still holding the rope attached to his wrists.

"Take him to my room, Carlos. And tie him to the head. Leave him there, and I'll attend him shortly," Russo said and went into the house.

Carlos pulled him and took him up the stairs to a room on the second floor. He looked around, mapping the place in his head on the chance he got away somehow. Carlos just yanked him along and into the room. Ichigo's eyes went wide at the sight of the opulent bed chamber. The bed, though, was different. The head and foot rails were metal with loops of metal built into them. He realized that this bed was made to confine people to it. So, he wasn't the first person to have this happen to them here. He swallowed and started to panic a little as Carlos attached the rope to the headboard of the bed.

"Hey, you can let me go," Ichigo tried. "I'll find a way out, please!"

Carlos looked at him and shook his head. "No," he said and left.

Ichigo sat down on the plush bed and sighed. At least he'd tried. He tried then to get his hands free, but he found he couldn't. No matter what, this was going to happen to him. He just had to try to hold on until he could get out of this place. At some point, this guy would let his guard down. And when he did, Ichigo would get away from him somehow.

He didn't have long to wait. After about half an hour, Russo came in, holding a pair of wine glasses and wearing a navy robe. Ichigo swallowed hard, feeling fear despite his resolution to do what was necessary to get to the point he could escape from this guy.

"Here, Ichigo, this will help," he said and held the wine glass to his lips. Ichigo frowned and shook his head. "Either drink, or I'll bring a syringe in and inject you with something even stronger."

Ichigo opened and gulped as he poured what tasted like red wine into his mouth, though there was definitely something off about the taste. Ichigo drank it all, much to his chagrin. He looked at him and then he drank his own glass of wine, setting the glass on the table beside Ichigo's empty one. He came forward and tipped his face up to look at him.

"So, you've never had sex before, have you?" he asked.

Ichigo swallowed and shook his head slightly. He hadn't even thought of doing something like this before, let alone with someone like this.

"Make no mistake, you are nothing but my sexual plaything from here on out. You are nothing but a cock warmer for me to use how I desire, and whether it be your mouth or ass, you'll be used repeatedly. In fact, I may let my men have a turn if you decide not to behave, so it is in your best interest to obey me at all times." He opened the drawer beside the bed and fished around, pulling out something Ichigo had only ever seen in pornography. It was a butt plug. "We'll use lots of fun toys, too," he said.

Ichigo shook his head. "Look, please, don't do this. I just want to go home."

"Aww, cute, begging already, and I've yet to fuck you even," Russo said, untying the belt of the robe and taking it off.

He was built. He had cut and defined muscles, so it was obvious he worked out quite a bit. His cock was already engorged, and Ichigo stared at him because he was bigger than he thought he'd be. He shook his head, thinking about what he planned to do.

"Look, don't, I don't want to do this," Ichigo said, putting his hands up. But he was starting to feel funny and he realized the drink had been drugged.

He shook his head and the next thing he knew he'd been gagged with a ball gag. He was on his back, and he'd removed his jeans and underwear already. He was between his legs, fingering him with something on his fingers that smelled of strawberries. He trembled under his rough touches and yelled as much as he could behind the gag. It was already making his mouth sore and he tried kicking him. It was weak, though, and then he was flipped to his stomach, with him probing at his entrance with his cock. He bit down on the gag hard as he shoved himself inside suddenly. Tears squeezed from his eyes, and he panted through the pain that was ripping through him. This guy was seriously going to split him in two, he thought.

"You can tell you're a virgin," Russo said, thrusting back and forth. "You're bleeding a bit, but that's alright. You won't bleed for long once you're used to my cock filling you like this. Your body will know the shape of me, and for the rest of your measly life, no one else will ever fuck you without you remembering this, because let's face it, you're going to be a bottom bitch from now on."

Ichigo could barely breathe and then he was done, coming into him and leaving him wet and leaking on the bed. He pulled away and then pushed something into him. He choked a little because he realized he'd put the plug into him. It was wide enough at the base that he felt it keenly.

"Ah, that's nice," Russo said. "You'll hold my essence inside you like this and lay here tonight. Meanwhile, I have my wife to bed yet tonight, so I'll leave you to your own thoughts."

Ichigo watched him leave, gagged and plugged and didn't know what he was going to do. What could he do?