The light filling Ichigo's vision faded just as quickly as it enveloped him, like an unexpected camera flash. The experience was certainly just as jarring. No Dangai, no fixed arrival point, no travel time period. One second he stood somewhere within Urahara Shop, the next he was being buffeted on all sides by Shinigami frantically going about their duties. Forget the doorstep, that weird gate put him right in the middle of the barracks!
Or so he thought. He'd never given the barracks of the Gotei Divisions themselves much thought, so for all he knew, this could be the inside of any random building within the Seireitei. And considering the gate he traveled through was created by Urahara Kisuke, there was a very real possibility that it hadn't been properly tested before this trip . . . which would make Ichigo the guinea pig.
Swallowing his indignation, Ichigo swore to give Kisuke a piece of his mind when he next saw him. Until then, there were more important matters to take care of. Namely, finding out what the 12th Division wanted with him. Stepping out into the torrent of busy researchers, he tried to stop someone and get some answers. But nobody slowed. Most seemed to flat out ignore him, opting to step past him like he was an inconveniently erected pillar. That would have been bad enough, but those that actually acknowledged his existence did so with severe, venomous glares. In short, he wasn't getting anywhere wading through this river.
It was starting to get on his nerves.
"They called me here, so wouldn't it make sense for them to come meet me in person?" Ichigo grumbled to himself while following the flow. He had no idea where he was supposed to go, so maybe allowing himself to be pulled along would get him somewhere close. It was better than waiting for . . . "Wait, who am I even supposed to be meeting?!" Kisuke said that he was called by the 12th Division, but that could mean pretty much anybody! Looking for Captain Kurotsuchi was a safe bet, but that didn't help him if he didn't know his way around the barracks. If only Kisuke had sent him outside the barracks like he said he would!
Damn that shifty shopkeeper! I'll give him more than a piece of my mind next time! Ichigo pushed through the crowd. Fortunately, as if sensing his mood, the people in his way stepped aside, clearing his path. The first thing I need to do is get my bearings. Once I'm outside I can figure out how to get where I need to go.
"Oh, you're here, Kurosaki Ichigo." Sliding out of the crowd with ease, one of the 12th Division's officers called out to him. It was Akon, if he remembered right. Yeah, definitely. The horns were a dead giveaway. "I've been asked to guide you. Please, follow me."
"Wait a second, Akon-san!" Ichigo called out to stop him, but the serious looking researcher was already gliding through the bustling mass like it wasn't there. No helping it then. He'd have to settle for having his questions answered at their destination. Wherever that was. Akon led him through rooms and down corridors with so many turns it was a wonder they didn't feed into each other. There were so many flights of stairs going up and down that Ichigo wasn't even sure if they were below or above ground at the end.
Their journey finally came to an end in front of a featureless metal door. "Captain," Akon said, holding a finger to his ear, "I've returned with Kurosaki Ichigo. Of course. Yes, sir." With a grating buzz the door opened into darkness. It would have been a wall of solid black if not for a faint glow in the distance lending vague definition to the hallway. "Don't keep the Captain waiting." Leaving those last words, Akon started back the way they had come.
Ichigo stood in the dark opening and let out a deep breath. No good could be done just standing around, so he marched into the darkness, eyes fixed on the soft light in the distance. The hallway was even longer than it looked, giving him plenty of time to worry. Had he spoken more than two words in passing to the 12th Division's Captain? He knew what the guy looked like-it was hard to forget someone so . . . eccentric- but aside from that, he barely had any experience to pull from.
What he did know was the things he heard from his friends. Ishida had the most experience dealing with the guy, but he never said anything about it afterwards. Inoue met him at the same time, apparently, but she had a way of seeing the best in people, so her judgment was hardly reliable. If only he'd been more curious back then.
Wishful thoughts aside, Ichigo licked his lips and clenched his fists. He didn't think of himself as the type to let his nerves and anticipation get the better of him, but the circumstances put him on edge. The quickly approaching end of the hall felt as if it were pushing on him. The closer he got, the tighter his chest felt. The harder it was to take a solid breath. His mind raced, but before he could resolve the worries swirling around inside his head, he stepped into the light.
The room was as he had come to expect from his brief tour of the 12th Division: large slabs of metal slotted together for walls and floor, whirring machines that served who-knew-what purpose, and an inexplicably high ceiling that made the whole space feel like the bottom of an empty tower. A sickly yellow light from many of the machines provided an oddly comfortable brightness, while what looked like a blank blackboard covered the majority of one wall.
Captain Kurotsuchi stood before a wide monitor. His head was obscured by a large golden headdress, but he spoke as soon as Ichigo entered, "You've arrived. Good. How are you feeling, Kurosaki Ichigo? Any unusual aches or sensations?" He kept his attention on the monitor, tapping away at a terminal all the while.
"I'm fine," Ichigo winced. He hadn't intended to sound so tense, but he didn't come here for a check-up. "Look, I get enough of that 'avoiding the issue' crap from Kisuke. Why did you call me here?"
"Yes, yes. Well said," Kurotsuchi hummed. "I am in something of a hurry myself, so I'd like you to answer my questions promptly. Are you experiencing any unusual sensations at all? Any urges that you didn't have before?"
Ichigo grit his teeth, "Are you kidding?! I have more important things to be doing than indulging you. I'm out of here."
"I trust Urahara Kisuke informed you of our clash with a Quincy army? Don't you want to know more about the people who hurt your friends?"
"You're a real bastard, you know that?" Glaring at the Captain's back, Ichigo stayed where he was. That he would have to play along with this mad scientist pissed him off almost as much as being left in the dark. "I'm listening."
Kurotsuchi turned from the monitor with a glare of his own. The white bars painted over his black face made Ichigo's chest feel tight. "Quincies," he spat, "do not exert spiritual pressure. Did you know that? Quincies must suck the Reishi from their surroundings in order to express their power. Almost like parasites feeding off the world around them. Imagine our surprise, then, when a group of people who do just the opposite appear and set the Seireitei on fire." He held up a small remote that produced a sharp beep. The door out of the room slid shut and blended seamlessly with the wall. At the same time, the large blackboard became translucent, revealing another, smaller room. Ichigo rushed over to the newly revealed window, eyes wide.
Ishida was on the other side of the glass, unconscious. He wasn't just asleep. He was being held there, locked in a tiny room behind a one-way mirror in some mad scientist's creepy laboratory.
"What the hell? Why is Ishida in there?" The room was barely large enough to house the slab that his friend was strapped to. Wires feeding into a machine crammed into the corner were attached all over his body. Ichigo turned, hands held at his sides. Were they not, he would already have Zangetsu pressed against the Captain's throat. "Let him go. Now!"
"Oh dear, you're rather upset, aren't you? And here I thought you were on our side." Kurotsuchi flashed big yellow teeth at Ichigo's confusion. His spiritual pressure was suddenly suffocating. "Ishida Uryu is a Quincy. And not just any Quincy. He is a Quincy who invaded Soul Society as part of a hostile force. He infiltrated using his comrades' attack as cover and assaulted our soldiers. What is he doing in there? He is a prisoner of war, of course."
Ichigo faltered. The outrage that he directed at Kurotsuchi was doused in an instant, leaving a queasy knot in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to demand an explanation, but defending his friend came first. "That doesn't make any sense. Ishida fought with us to protect Soul Society."
"Did he now? Because I remember things going a little differently." He tilted his head like an owl, but somehow, it seemed like his eyes never moved. They were fixed points boring into Ichigo with nauseating intensity. "As I recall, he fought to rescue his friend from an enemy we had in common. That doesn't constitute any sort of alliance. In fact, I would say that he has been decidedly hostile towards Soul Society and Shinigami. This isn't even the first time Ishida Uryu has invaded the Seireitei."
"That wasn't an invasion!" Ichigo didn't mean to raise his voice, but a panicked shout escaped his throat. How could Ishida attack Soul Society? He was smart enough not to get involved in a crazy scheme like that. Ichigo swallowed, steadying his voice, "We were just trying to save Rukia. She's a Shinigami, and he helped rescue her, so how could he-"
"How could he attack Shinigami if he has Shinigami friends? What a stupid question! He is a Quincy. What other reason could he possibly need? His comrades certainly had no qualms about ending the lives of many Shinigami. They killed the elder brother of his so-called friend, as I'm sure you are aware. Do you think he tried to stop them?"
"Shut up . . ."
"Hardly. In fact, while Kuchiki Byakuya was fighting for his life, Ishida Uryu was leaving two young Shinigami to die. If I hadn't happened upon him, who knows how many he would have killed."
"Shut your mouth!" Ichigo held out his hand and gripped Zangetsu in a tight fist. He wasn't about to let this guy call his friend a murderer, Captain or not. He was snarling, he realized. "Let him go right now, or I'll break him out of there myself."
Kurotsuchi's expression slowly drifted into a cold burning scowl. Calmly, he pulled his own Zanpakuto out of the sash around his waist and let it rest at his side. "Do you think you can stand up to a Captain of the Gotei 13 with an unreleased Zanpakuto? Naive and a fool; a deadly combination."
He was right, but for some reason, Ichigo couldn't draw out the power to activate Bankai. His hand trembled with the effort of trying.
"Your friend nearly killed me once, you know," that voice was like acid. "So you see, he has a history of violence against Shinigami. Which is why I'm going to squeeze every ounce of information about our enemy from him. Even if I have to tear him apart to get it."
Ichigo roared. So what if he couldn't activate Bankai. His friend was in danger, and he wasn't about to sit back and let that slide. He rushed forward, swinging his giant cleaver with all of the force that he could muster. Kurotsuchi caught the blade with a finger, stopping it dead.
"When I am finished with Ishida Uryu, you will be the next subject I strap to that table." Kurotsuchi leaned in close, speaking directly into Ichigo's ear, "Anything I do will be deemed a necessary evil in this time of war. You can't hide anything from me."
Stumbling back, Ichigo yelped, "What does that mean? I'm not hiding anything!" He'd fought plenty of strong opponents up until now. He'd felt fear plenty of times, but this was different. This fear screeched deep within his very soul.
"Playing dumb won't save you-especially now that you are here-so you may as well come clean, Kurosaki Ichigo." The Gotei Captain's voice boomed, filling the room and shaking Ichigo to his core, "Why is it that your spiritual pressure is so similar to that of the Quincies that attacked Soul Society?"
". . . Huh?" Ichigo tried to swallow, but his throat was bone dry. Similar to the Quincies? That didn't make any sense. Almost unconsciously, he turned his spiritual sense inward and found exactly what he'd come to expect: There was the Hollow part of his soul, small compared to the Shinigami part, and the barely perceptible remnant of his Fullbringer ability. Nothing was out of the ordinary. It was all-
A shift in the flow of power made his vision swim. There was something different there, intertwined with his usual power. "What is this?" Kurotsuchi watched him through narrowed eyes, but nothing more. Why didn't he say anything?!
Bracing himself on the window, Ichigo's mind raced. That Quincy over the river, Quilge-something . . . he must have done something to him.
"I'll give you one opportunity to ease your suffering. Be grateful." The Captain's voice was muffled by a ringing in Ichigo's ears. "Now tell me, how did you feel when you arrived here today? Did you have any urge to kill Shinigami? Were you given a mission to execute by Yhwach or Haschwalth?" Kurotsuchi was beside him now. His wide open eyes seemed to be trying to consume him.
Ichigo shook his head, "Who? What are you talking about?" The fuzziness was receding, but his legs were still shaky. "I came here because you called me!"
Kurotsuchi placed a hand on Ichigo's shoulder, and with a gentle push, drove him to his knees. Then, with two boney fingers, he pried Ichigo's eye open as wide as it would go. "Say that again. Under whose order did you come here?" The Captain pushed in close so that only his own bulging eye was visible.
Ichigo tried to stand and push the man away, but he couldn't lift his arms. "H-how should I know? Kisuke only told me the 12th Division wanted me to come!"
"Hmm . . ." Captain Kurotsuchi didn't move for what felt like an hour, his maddening stare enveloping Ichigo's entire field of view, then suddenly, with a grunt that sounded oddly relieved, he let go and stepped away. There was no time to breathe his own sigh of relief though, as the Shinigami quickly got close again and held up a hand. A sour mist puffed out of his sleeve, coating Ichigo's nose and tongue.
"What the hell!" Ichigo cried, forming the words as best he could between fits of coughing and wheezing. After a few agonizing seconds, he calmed down and, wiping spit and mucus from his face, stood on progressively less wobbly legs. Wincing at the soreness of his throat, he asked, "What was that all about?"
The mad scientist grinned, "Just testing a hypothesis, boy. You see, while the Gotei 13's forces suffered a great deal of casualties, so did the invading force. As a result, we've had the opportunity to study hundreds of Quincies and their Reiatsu in close detail. Do you know what we found in our search?" He returned to the monitor that he was working on before and continued without waiting for an answer, "All of them had, at one point or another, had a foreign Reiatsu implanted into them. We compared the psyches of those still under the influence of that foreign power to those who had been freed and found that it increased an individual's strength while also inflicting a sort of brainwashing. Very crude work, I say. It was laughably easy to undo." He threw his head back and cackled.
"And what does that have to do with me?" Brainwashing? Ichigo didn't feel any different.
"You," Kurotsuchi pointed back at him without turning around, "have fairly little to do with it, as it turns out. When I heard that you, someone with no history of displaying the qualities of a Quincy, suddenly began to express a Quincy-like Reiatsu, I simply had to observe. There was also the risk of you being taken in by the enemy I suppose, but that could have been dealt with in its own time. Fortunately, your Quincy power is not borrowed, so there is little danger to us. I cannot say the same for your friend there, however."
Relief quickly turned to tension at the mention of Ishida's involvement. Ichigo placed his hand on the glass and peered into the room where his friend lay. "You said that the Quincy soldiers were being brainwashed, right? So does that mean Ishida is the same? Can you help him?"
"Who do you think you're talking to? I've already freed him from that amateurish mind control. His case was the basis for all of my other experiments on the subject, in fact." It was difficult to tell with the toothy, wide-eyed expression that seemed to be Kurotsuchi's neutral face, but Ichigo got the impression he was being reassuring . . . probably. " and on that note, I've gleaned all I can on Quincies from Ishida Uryu, so I'd like you to take him off our hands."
"You're letting him go? No offense, but I didn't take you for the merciful type."
"A spent test subject is nothing more than wasted space." At the push of a button, the door to the dark hallway reappeared. At the same time, a small section of wall that wasn't taken up by the one-way mirror opened up into the small holding room.
Not wanting to give the Shinigami any chance to change his mind, Ichigo rushed to his friend's side. Before he could start shaking him awake, though, the shackles binding his arms and legs retracted and the wires covering his body detached on their own and retreated into the machine in the corner. "Ishida! Hey, Ishida!"
After a few moments without a reaction, Ishida's face finally contorted into a grimace.
He was awake.
+ Shift +
Trying to block out the intense light blinding him through his eyelids, Ishida raised his hand and winced. His wrist stung, his elbow ached, and his shoulder felt as though he'd checked a corner a dozen or so times. When he lowered his hand again, he became aware of the pain across the rest of his body. His ankles felt much the same as his wrists, and his hips were all out of whack. He felt the urge to stretch his back, but got the impression that doing so would not make it feel any better. He was afraid to move his neck at all on account of how stiff it was.
Awareness crept up on him in waves. He was lying down, but not on any bed. This was more like a table; cold, hard, and aggressively flat. So flat, in fact, that the pain and discomfort he was experiencing was clearly caused by it. As for why he was lying there on the world's most uncomfortable surface . . .
He'd been asleep. That much was obvious by the general grogginess and slow return to full consciousness, but the why was less clear.
Furtive attempts to open his eyes confirmed the presence of a painfully bright light overhead washing out his vision and making his eyeballs pulse. He heard a noise, a voice, calling out to him. Kurosaki's, by the Reiatsu, and . . . Ishida gasped and sat up in a hurry, ignoring the spots dancing in his vision and the sensation of his vertebrae pressing down on the hard metal slab.
Everything came rushing back, the final leavings of unconsciousness swept away by torrential recollection. The Wandenreich, Lord Haschwalth and His Majesty Yhwach, the invasion of Soul Society and the part he played, it all left a searing afterimage in his mind not unlike the light being filtered through the lenses of his glasses.
What had he done? What had he been a part of? Those two rookie Shinigami . . . he'd looked down on them like dirty garbage underfoot. Covering his mouth was the only thing he could do to stop the bile pushing up his throat.
Somebody grabbed his shoulders and shook none too gently, "Ishida! Hey!" That voice rang in his ears and pulled his attention away from the harsh lamp hanging from the ceiling. Blinking through the distorted colors brought Kurosaki Ichigo into focus. "Hey, say something already! You're freaking me out!" Why was he even here?
"You're too loud," Ishida grumbled, rubbing his eyes, "and let go of me. That is no way to wake a sleeping person." The spots were clearing up, but the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn't going away.
"Well it's good to see that that attitude of yours is intact," Kurosaki sighed, stepping back. What was with that relieved look? Did he not know what was going on? The Quincies attacking the Seireitei and . . .
"What happened?" There was little composure in his voice, "The Seireitei . . . the Quincies . . . how long have I been out?" Ishida reached out with trembling hands. He'd beg if he had to. "Please, Kurosaki, tell me. Something horrible hasn't happened, has it?"
"Oh many horrible things have happened. Of that you can be sure." Dread oozed from that familiar cackle. Ishida was almost too scared to turn his head and look at the Captain of the 12th Division. "We lost two Captains, a Lieutenant, and countless soldiers for starters. We currently sit on a razor's edge because your Quincy comrades have begun to stir again, and it seems that they did not bring the full weight of their strength down on us last time. I think it is safe to say that still more horrors will occur here before this conflict has resolved. And you've been asleep for about four days."
"Wha . . .?" Ishida was definitely breathing-his lungs were inflating, his chest expanding, and shoulders rising and falling-but his breaths didn't hold any air no matter how many he took.
"Calm down, Ishida!" Kurosaki leaned on the table, shooting Kurotsuchi an accusatory glare. "None of that stuff was your fault. This guy said it himself; you were brainwashed. It's alright." He was trying to put Ishida at ease, no doubt, but in doing so he only revealed how little he knew about what had happened.
"Alright? No, I don't think so. If this were all a dream, maybe. If this were a nightmare that I could wake up from and forget about, then it could be alright. It isn't, though." Ishida looked Kurosaki in the eye and his shoulders drooped. Seeing the pity on his friend's face sapped every ounce of strength out of him. "I believe that I was being influenced. It makes perfect sense, really. The decisions I've made, and the reasons behind them, feel like someone else's now. Yet I can't separate myself from them completely. It isn't as if I was trapped in my own head while somebody else moved my body. I made those decisions. I took those steps and said those words. I agreed to join the invasion." He clenched his fists so hard that his arms shook. His fingernails dug into the skin of his palms. "I renounced my own grandfather because Lord Haschwalth told me to, Kurosaki."
"Lord Haschwalth?" While Kurosaki's mouth worked soundlessly, surely trying comprehend what he meant and to find some kind of excuse, Captain Kurotsuchi chimed in. "Quite the respectful way to speak of someone who tried to control you and succeeded."
"You're right, I think. Honestly, I don't think calling it brainwashing is entirely accurate. When Lord . . . When Haschwalth told me to do something, I did it because I wanted him to be pleased with me. Rather than controlling my mind it's like he planted a seed inside my brain that made me look at his and Yhwach's cause favorably."
"Hmm . . . perhaps I spoke too soon. There seems to be more I can glean from your case after all. I would like to keep you here a little longer after all." Kurotsuchi smiled. It made Ishida's whole body tremble.
"I don't think I have any right to refuse." He said, hanging his head. He tried to keep his hands steady at least. He thought if he could do that, then maybe he'd be able to calm down and make some sense of all of this.
It wasn't working so far.
Trying to make sense of what had happened to him, what he'd done, was a wasted effort. There was no sense to it whatsoever. He had committed a grave sin in helping start this conflict. Submitting himself to the machinations of a mad scientist was a small price for redemption. If he could be redeemed at all.
The sharp bang of Kurosaki's palms hitting the table filled the cramped room. "We're leaving," he said, "Come on, Ishida."
"Wait, Kurosaki. Haven't you been listening? There may be more the Shinigami can learn from me. I need to stay here and-"
"Just shut up and come with me." Like a brute, Kurosaki grabbed Ishida's arm and dragged him off the table and, ignoring his protests, made for the door. "Thanks for taking care of him," Kurosaki spat as they passed a clearly displeased Kurotsuchi.
He didn't let go until they were out of the building heading who knew where, and even then Ishida had to wrench himself free of his friend's grip.
"You're out of line, Kurosaki! I don't know how you got the idea that I needed saving, but I never asked for your help." Ishida complained, doing his best to keep up on still shaky legs.
"Keep your voice down. We're getting enough dirty looks as it is," Kurosaki replied, ignoring Ishida's griping. He didn't bother turning around or slowing down.
Where did he get off? Telling Ishida to be quiet like an annoyed parent was the height of insolence. Why did he have to play at being a hero, thinking that what he did was best just because he didn't give the situation any real thought. Well, he wasn't getting away with it that easily.
"Listen here, you hard-headed lout, whatever it is you think is going on, I can guarantee that you don't know nearly as much as you think you do. I barely have an idea, and I'm as tangled up in it as can be." They passed by groups of Shinigami with scowls on their faces and hands on their swords. Dirty looks, indeed. "I'm sorry, Kurosaki, but I'm not on the right side this time around. Look around at the destruction the Quincies caused."
He wouldn't have to look far. Broken spires loomed on the horizon, visible past crumbling walls and through collapsed buildings. Mountainous piles of rubble lined the shattered streets. And that didn't account for the toll on the Shinigami themselves. Many went about their business with arms in slings and patches over eyes. Others limped and clutched at bandages hidden beneath their uniforms. The fact that their medical facilities were overwhelmed was on full display.
It was all so clear, yet the idiot still refused to see. "You were brainwashed. None of this is your fault."
"I am a Quincy, Kurosaki. I cannot escape blame no matter how you try to spin it."
Finally, he stopped and turned. The look on his face was severe, but not at all aloof. "Being a Quincy doesn't make you evil."
"It isn't a matter of good versus evil! I am-" Ishida's tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his eyes opened wide. He'd been glaring at Kurosaki's back this whole time, but he hadn't really seen him until now. The mysterious amalgam of power that existed within Kurosaki Ichigo was there as normal, but nestled within that impossible tangle was the power of a Quincy.
He looked around at the Shinigami glaring daggers at him and realized that those harsh looks weren't just directed at him.
It didn't make any sense.
"I have to atone," he started, still taken aback. "My footprint in all of this destruction might be small; I might not have been in my right mind, but I've still done something unforgivable. It doesn't undo what's been done, I know that, but if I can atone for my sins by submitting myself to the Shinigami, then so be it."
"So you're just going to let that madman treat you like a guinea pig?! To hell with that!" Kurosaki's shout pushed Ishida onto his back foot. Now who was speaking too loudly? "If you've done something wrong, then the only way to make it right is to take action. It's enough to help protect Soul Society from now on, so get that self-sacrificial crap out of your head!"
Ishida reeled at the weight lifting from his shoulders. All Kurosaki had done was shout at him, but those words struck directly at the core of his worries.
How was he supposed to respond to that?
Collecting himself, Ishida met Kurosaki's determined gaze. "You're sure of yourself, aren't you. I'll take what you've said into consideration, but I still don't believe things are as simple as you think." Kurosaki bristled at that, but Ishida didn't give him a chance to complain. "Now then, we were on our way somewhere? Or did you drag me out of there without a destination in mind?"
Shaking his head like he had to deal with a naive fool, Kurosaki continued to lead the way. "We're heading to the 4th Division. Rukia and Renji should be recovering there right now. I want to check up on them."
"So they were injured as well . . ." It was a relief to hear that they were still alive, at least. People had died. People he had met and possibly fought alongside at some point. Ishida sagged slightly, dreading to know who they were.
The 4th Division barracks were exactly as Ishida expected them to be, that is to say, a chaotic storm of physicians and patients moving and being moved. He'd only caught a glimpse of the madness of the 12th division's facility on his way out, but that was nothing compared to this.
While Ishida cringed at the impenetrable flood of people, Kurosaki hopped up and down, shading his eyes and scanning the undulating mob. It was pointless, though. Even without any idea of what he was looking for, it didn't take a genius to see that he couldn't possibly find any one person in such a crowd. And trying to find a path through was the same; a fruitless endeavor. They'd be better off leaping over the crowd.
But no, that wouldn't be a good idea either. As crowded as it was, it wasn't so busy that nobody would notice two people with Quincy power gunning for the center of the medical relief effort.
Had Kurosaki already realized that? It didn't seem like him to think things through thoroughly, but he did have a way of landing on the correct answer on instinct alone. Possibly proving this, his head flicked and he fixed his eyes on someone in the crowd. "Hey! Hey, Hanataro!" He shouted over the din of the mob, waving his arms frantically. After a moment, a meek-looking Shinigami astonishingly emerged from the crowd.
"Ichigo?! What are you doing here?" Yamada Hanataro ran up, bowing quickly. "You aren't injured are you?"
"Not really. We need to get into the barracks to see Rukia and Renji."
"Oh . . ." Hanataro lowered his eyes. He was wringing his hands on the sash slung over his shoulder. Even knowing that the two of them were alive, his reaction made Ishida's breath catch. "I'm not sure seeing them would be a good idea right now. Their injuries aren't too terrible; they'll be back on their feet in no time, but they've been really down. Captain Kuchiki's death really did a number on them."
Ishida froze. Kuchiki Byakuya was among the dead.
Kurosaki kept going, though. He already knew. "I figured that'd be hard on them. But that's all the more reason we need to see them. Some friendly faces might help."
"I see. That makes sense from a bedside manner point of view." Hanataro tilted his head, considering the suggestion. It only took him a few seconds to make up his mind. "Alright. I'll take you to them on one condition. Pretty much everyone who has gone in to see them has done so to pay their respects. This might sound odd, but please don't say 'sorry for your loss' or anything like that. They've had enough of that already, I think."
Without hesitation, Kurosaki nodded, "Got it. You hear that, Ishida? Let's go." Pulling Ishida along, he followed Hanataro into the crowd. Despite the surging mass of people, the 4th Division officer moved forward with no difficulty whatsoever, perhaps because of his relatively high rank. Either way, Ishida jerked his arm away and fell into step beside Kurosaki.
The last thing he wanted right now was to get swept away in a sea of frazzled Shinigami. Being who and what he was, getting trampled would be the least of his worries. That said, no one who passed so much as looked at them twice. His own anonymity was to be expected-Quincies didn't typically give off a detectable spiritual pressure-but Kurosaki possessed strength on par with the Sternritter. That mysterious new power should be acting like a beacon.
"Hanataro-san," Ishida stepped up closer to their guide and spoke as softly as he could while still being heard, "forgive me, but is it really a good idea for the two of us to be here right now? One person eager to enact revenge on the Quincies could spark a riot."
"Hmm," Hanataro tilted his head. It was difficult to tell if he was seriously considering the risk, especially since he chuckled and didn't break stride. "You're worried that someone might attack you because you are a Quincy? There's no need for that, you can be sure. Everyone here is working for the benefit of the injured. It might be another story if there was still fighting happening right now, but during this lull we can focus on that singular mission. And besides, you aren't the only Quincy in this crowd, if you hadn't noticed."
He hadn't.
When he stopped looking out for potential threats and began taking in the crowd as a whole, he was surprised to find that many of the people they passed gave off no spiritual pressure.
"According to Captain Kurotsuchi, much of the Quincy force is made up of people who have been conscripted against their will. It was a really tense arrangement the first couple of days, but the need for working hands pushed for their integration."
Ishida shook his head, "There's no way it was that simple. These people were trying to kill each other just a few days ago."
"I can't believe it either," the short medical officer laughed. "Maybe Captain Kurotsuchi did something to pacify them. Not a pleasant thought, of course, but if it helps keep casualties to a minimum, I can accept it. In the end, we're grateful for any help we can get." Taking a peek over his shoulder, Hanataro gave Ishida a shallow nod and reassuring smile.
All of the Quincies in the crowd . . . so they were brainwashed too? Ishida fell back beside Kurosaki, his mind churning. If all of these Quincies had the same experience as he did, then that would mean they weren't being directly controlled. Their actions while under Haschwalth's influence should have felt right, like they were acting out their own desires, and that feeling should still linger. Could they really be trusted to move around freely like this?
The hypocrisy made him feel ill. Could they be trusted? What about Ishida himself? Even after he explained his involvement, Kurosaki didn't hesitate to trust and treat him as a friend. He went so far as to drag Ishida away from Kurotsuchi before he was made into a guinea pig. Did he truly deserve that trust?
These other Quincies were doing something to make amends. What was he doing? Letting himself be dragged around, that's what. Maybe if he applied himself in a similar way, he too could make things right.
In stark contrast to the building's surroundings the 4th Division barracks were immaculately organized and composed. White-robed Shinigami shuffled to and fro, pushing carts loaded with medicines and bandages or examining reports. A few patients, similarly dressed in white, were wandering around as well, and judging by the flow of Reishi, there were Quincies mixed in with the Shinigami patients.
The scale of integration made Ishida's head spin. Never before did he think that Shinigami and Quincies could interact so closely. It almost resembled . . .
No. He understood Sōken's philosophy better than anybody. And as much as he dreaded the thought, Haschwalth had been partially right about it. What his grandfather had suggested was little more than willful subjugation. That was fine, in his eyes, as long as the world of the living was protected from the Hollow threat. He should have strived for more. He should have fought and struggled to achieve true coexistence. Or something like it.
Something like what was happening in this place.
It wasn't perfect, not by a long shot, but progress was being made. Ishida stopped in his tracks hearing casual conversation and seeing active cooperation between Quincy and Shinigami, and it dawned on him that he had no right to talk about Sōken and his choices while he himself stood by and contributed nothing.
"Hey, Ishida! Don't fall behind!" Jarred by Kurosaki's inconsiderately loud voice, Ishida tried to ignore what he saw around him. Gawking did nothing, so he should be about his business.
He caught up with the others at a door demarking the start of a separate wing. For all of its feudal Japanese style, the 4th Division facility was laid out much the same as a modern hospital in the living world. The din of activity was quieter here. The patients lying in beds and sitting on benches looked much the same as what Ishida had seen so far, but there was a clear shift in the general attitude. Nobody smiled. The casual conversation that brightened the other wings was completely absent, and the only noticeable noise came from the rustling of clothes and the scratching of pen on paper. It was all so sterile. Not to mention tense.
The doctors in particular walked on eggshells as they went about their duties. Almost all of them had nauseous, thin-lipped frowns on their faces, and they avoided looking at their patients as much as possible. It was easy to see why. Few patients in this wing raised their heads to look around, and those whose eyes weren't glued to the floor didn't seem to be looking at anything at all. The bile in Ishida's stomach sat like a lead weight. He fit in much better here than in the other wings.
Hanataro came to a stop by a shut door at the end of a particularly long hall. He turned to face Kurosaki, shooting a glance Ishida's way every now and then. "And here we are. Now, it's not that I don't trust you Ichigo, I do, but just remember that they need someone to lift their spirits, not pity them. That goes for you too, Ishida-san."
"I said I got it, didn't I? Let's get in there." Kurosaki practically bounced on the balls of his feet while Hanataro considered his response. He seemed to be convinced, but just barely as he turned with a wary expression.
"We're coming in," the medical officer said softly, opening the door at a creeping pace. Kurosaki pushed past him as soon as there was enough room. Ishida, exercising a fair amount more patience, waited until Hanataro showed him in.
The room was smaller than the other rooms they'd passed on the way, clearly being meant for one or two people only. There were two occupied beds set just far enough apart that a physician could work on each of them without being cramped. Kurosaki stood in that space, looking from Rukia to Renji and back again. There was an awkwardness that Ishida hadn't expected. He considered these two Shinigami his friends, Rukia more than Renji, but Kurosaki was far closer to both of them. For there to be so much tension with them merely being in the same room was anxiety inducing.
Hanataro clearly felt the same. His regret was as plain as his spiritual pressure. Still, he stood back and watched with wide eyes.
"Rukia . . . Renji . . ." Kurosaki spoke softly, his earlier eagerness and bravado nowhere to be seen, "so Byakuya really is gone, huh?" Hanataro's sputtering shock would have made Ishida jump if not for the oppressive weight of the air at that moment. The silence that followed that careless comment was suffocating.
"Yeah, he is. And we couldn't do a damn thing." Renji barely moved his head to glare up at Kurosaki, challenging him to say something as condescending as it was supportive. It was clear that that frustration was fake, though. The rings under his eyes, and Rukia's, spoke of long, sleepless nights. By the rasp in his voice and the pallor of their skin, they hadn't been taking care of themselves beyond letting the doctors heal their injuries. In short, they were a collective mess.
Kurosaki returned that tired glare with one of his own and crossed his arms, "Is that all you have to say? Couldn't do anything? That's bull and you know it." Ishida wanted to tackle him.
The sound of Renji's teeth grinding was suddenly the loudest sound in the room. "You-! Are you trying to say that it's our fault?! Huh?!"
"Did I say that, idiot?"
Hanataro leapt into action, slipping in front of Kurosaki and trying to push him away. "What are you doing, Ichigo? I know I said you shouldn't pity them, but this is way too far in the other direction!"
"It sure sounded like it, you bastard!" Renji threw the sheets from his bed and stood to stare down Kurosaki. Poor Hanataro tried desperately to keep the two separate, but they still ended up fiercely butting heads.
Rukia stood as well and closed in with indignation burning in her eyes. "You're a good friend, Ichigo, but if you don't have a good explanation for this, we won't let you get away with it.
Kurosaki refused to back down. Admirable or stupid, it was an impressive feat. Between Rukia, standing firm with her arms crossed and seeming to tower above the other two, and Renji's snarling glare, he couldn't be blamed for losing at least a little ground.
Gritting his teeth, Kurosaki pressed forward, "How long have you guys been lying in those beds?" Suddenly, the Shinigami didn't seem nearly so imposing. The intensity in their expressions vanished as he went on, "If I had to guess, you haven't gotten up unless you absolutely had to. From what I hear, it's been nearly a week since the Quincies attacked. You're already recovered, so why aren't you doing anything?"
Rukia bit her lip, but Renji fought back, "What do you know? You weren't there. You didn't fight them. You didn't get brushed aside while someone important to you was killed!"
For just a moment, it looked like Kurosaki would back down, but he clenched his fists and said, "You're right. I was lucky that no one was killed, but don't go acting like you were the only one who was helpless." His knowing grimace gave everyone pause. What exactly happened in the world of the living while the Seireitei was being invaded? "Sitting still and worrying about what we could have done is pointless. This fight isn't over yet."
"You're telling us to move on? Just like that?" The edges of Rukia's mouth turned up in a bitter smile. She was right to be skeptical. No matter what he'd been through during the invasion, Kurosaki wasn't there. He wasn't directly involved. He couldn't understand what these two went through. And he couldn't possibly understand what Ishida had been through either. Could anyone?
"I can't force you to do anything. What you decide is your business, but as your friend I can't sit back and watch you dig yourself into a hole. Call it what you like, but you're already standing on your own two feet again. That's progress if you ask me." He gave both of them a reassuring glance, and . . . did he spare a look for Ishida as well?
"I appreciate what you're trying to do, Ichigo, but it isn't that easy. We still have a lot to work through, and it's more than just our failure to protect my brother." As if to refuse his suggestion outright, Rukia sat on her bed. After a moment, Renji nodded and did the same.
Kurosaki opened his mouth to argue, but closed it before getting any words out. He was at a loss. Ishida crossed his arms and lowered his head. He sympathized with Kurosaki's attempts to help his friends, he really did, but optimism from outside could feel like condescending pressure at times like these. Rukia and Renji were right. Simply standing up was a good start, but without a direction to move in you'd exhaust yourself and eventually end up right back where you started.
It was painful to watch, so much so that Ishida was tempted to leave them to work it out by themselves. He wouldn't, though. Kurosaki was his friend, and the others as well to a certain extent, and despite all the mistakes and poor decisions he'd made recently, he'd at least remain firm on this. Hanataro, apparently having no such feelings, slunk out from between them looking as if he'd just run a marathon.
The silence stretched on until Kurosaki sighed, "Fine then. I'll do what I can to protect you, so take all the time you need." For some reason the air became heavier. Rukia and Renji were avoiding Kurosaki's eyes, staring at their hands or off to the side, but they both shot him a furious look and made an even bigger show of ignoring him.
He failed, it seemed, whatever it was he was trying to accomplish with this visit. But still he stood there between the beds, waiting for them to come around to his way of thinking. And if Ishida knew him half as well as he thought he did, he really would stand there until they changed their minds. He could be flippant and impatient at times, but Kurosaki was nothing if not stubborn about his friends.
This was going to take a while. Unfortunately, Ishida didn't have any reason to leave. In fact, if he did leave by himself, he wasn't sure where he'd end up. Much like the Shinigami sulking in those beds, he was up on his feet, but without Kurosaki guiding him, he had no sense of where to go or what to do. Perhaps he could do some soul searching himself while he waited for things to be resolved.
Just as he was preparing to get comfortable, a knock came at the door. Moments later the Captain of the 8th Division showed himself in.
"Well now, it's a bit crowded in here, isn't it." In the few instances when Ishida had been around Captain Kyōraku Shunsui, he gave off an air of aloofness, like he wasn't totally invested in what was going on around him. Now, it seemed that he was trying to maintain that disinterested presence, but the facade was cracked. He looked tired, like there was a lot on his shoulders. He smiled, but it was unpracticed. "I figured I'd find you here, Kurosaki Ichigo."
Kurosaki gave a start, "Kyōraku-san? You were looking for me?"
"Indeed I was. As soon as I heard you were in Soul Society, in fact. I have a request, or rather an order." Kyōraku's Lieutenant handed him a paper from the stack in her arms. He held it out for Kurosaki to take. "As Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13, I'm enlisting you into our forces until this war has run its course." All eyes were on him now.
"What do you mean 'enlist'? I'm just a substitute, or did you forget that?" To his credit, Kurosaki kept his cool remarkably well. No one else had collected themselves enough to make a sound.
Kyōraku shrugged, "If we're going to get technical, you're under Jūshirō's jurisdiction, but I'm going over his head. We need your power, substitute or not. And if you refuse, well, the Gotei 13 has overlooked quite a few transgressions on the part of you and your friends. It would be a shame if we had to dredge up past grievances."
Kurosaki stepped forward at the overt threat, but it was Rukia who spoke up, "This isn't Ichigo's fight, Captain-Commander!"
"Not his fight, huh?" Kyōraku smirked, but the threat never left his eyes. "The Seireitei was attacked by a hostile force of Quincies a few days ago. At the same time, Kurosaki Ichigo, Inoue Orihime, and Yasutora Sado were attacked and injured by a powerful Quincy." Ishida's eyes widened. He hadn't heard about this. He wasn't alone in his shock, either. Rukia and Renji's glares for Kurosaki softened to worried glances. "And let's not forget that new power of his. Or did you not notice? No matter how you slice it, Kurosaki Ichigo is already a part of this fight."
Nobody raised an objection. How could they?
"What would you have me do?" Kurosaki said, almost growling. He saw the reason of the situation as clearly as everyone else, and he clearly liked it least by far.
"Nothing too troublesome. All we want is for you to lend us your power. You'll have autonomy as an agent of Soul Society. You'll be free to do as you please as long as you follow the few orders I'm likely to give you. How does that sound?"
It sounded too good to be true. Kyōraku presented it as an offer for Kurosaki's benefit, but felt the need to threaten him at the same time. That could only mean the benefit would fall apart under scrutiny. They were leading with a carrot while holding a knife to his back. He'd have to be an idiot to accept such a shady deal.
Kurosaki scratched his head, looking appropriately put upon. "Fine. I'll help you guys out. But know that I'll follow your orders only as long as it suits me." The idiot accepted.
"I wouldn't expect anything more," Kyōraku smiled, a much more genuine expression than before, and waved Kurosaki over. "Now, for my first request, I'll need you to follow me.
"Where to?" At least he was being a little wary.
"The Captains are gathering for a visit from the 0 Division. I'd like you to attend as well." He turned, ignoring the choking noises from the Shinigami in the room, "Come along now. These are not the kind of people you want to keep waiting."
Rukia and Renji avoided one last look from Kurosaki before he followed the apparent Captain-Commander out. Ishida trailed behind, but when he shut the door Kyōraku held up a hand. "Sorry, Ishida Uryu, but I'm going to have to bar you from attending this meeting."
"What? Why?" Kurosaki said, getting angry on his behalf. Ishida was already quite sure of the reason, though.
"Look, I can appreciate the reality that you aren't our enemy, but bringing someone who was fighting for the enemy just a few days ago to a meeting with what is essentially a royal guard would reflect poorly on our judgment." The air of authority in his voice wiped clear any doubts about this man being the new Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13. He continued on his way without waiting for a rebuttal, exercising his power as a leader.
Kurosaki tried to argue, but Ishida placed a hand on his arm. "It's alright, Kurosaki. He's right. I don't know what this 0 Division is, but if the Captains are expected to gather for their arrival they must be very important. Most likely, they'll criticize the Captains' ability to lead in the wake of the invasion, and having a former enemy soldier present would only make things worse."
Fending off more of his friend's complaints, Ishida pushed Kurosaki along until he finally left to chase after Kyōraku on his own. He was alone now. Without Kurosaki around he lacked the directing force that kept him moving.
He knew that, though.
Ishida Uryu may as well have been lost at sea with nothing but a sail-less raft. He was no different than the lost souls populating this wing of the 4th Division barracks. It was a dire condition to be in, but he couldn't rely on Kurosaki forever. The only thing waiting for him if he did was dependency, and he wasn't about to allow that to happen. He smothered the part of himself that wanted to stick to Kurosaki's side at all costs for fear of being set adrift.
Surrendering himself to the will of the proverbial waves was the only option open to him if he wanted to make amends for his mistakes. Fear crept up his spine, threatening to root him to the spot. He needed to move. This place was poison in his current state of mind.
Keeping his eyes firmly ahead, Ishida retraced the route Hanataro had taken to get them to Rukia and Renji's room, and in no time he was back to the more uplifting wings of the hospital. The hustle and bustle outside might be too much for him at the moment, but this environment could help him ease into that self-driven mindset. He meandered, making his way through the busy halls at a leisurely pace. Short snippets of conversations between doctor and patient, and Shinigami and Quincy caught his attention, so he paused and listened before moving on.
He exchanged supportive, understanding looks and nods with a number of patients, both Shinigami and Quincy. But the further he traveled, the more a small doubt grew. He sympathized with these people, but he didn't recognize a single face in the crowd. Neither the Quincies or Shinigami were familiar to any extent. He'd never seen any of them even in passing.
Doubt weighed on his mind, slowing his feet. Wanting to help protect the Seireitei planted him firmly on the side of the Shinigami, and he was a Quincy, born and raised. Yet he was an outsider to both camps. All of his friends were distant or indisposed. In sending Kurosaki away, he'd deprived himself of the one solid point of support he had. Forget a sail-less raft, he was adrift with nothing but a piece of driftwood to cling to.
And his grip was slipping.
"Umm, Ishida-san?" A vaguely familiar voice made Ishida jump. He whirled around to face one of the rookie Shinigami that had been assigned to Karakura Town. "It is you, isn't it, Ishida-san?" Yuki Ryūnosuke looked up at Ishida, wide-eyed and covered with bandages and braces.
"You . . .!" Ishida took an involuntary step back. He couldn't look this young man in the eye, not whit all of those injuries drawing his attention. He'd had just a few bumps and scratches the last time they ran into each other. Which meant most of those bandages and braces were Ishida's doing. The large wrap around Ryūnosuke's head in particular stood out.
The rookie shook his hands frantically, "Sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt you. I just had something that I needed to say, you see." He ignored Ishida's shock and chattered on nervously, "I heard all about the brainwashing business, so I understand why you did what you did. You weren't yourself, so it isn't your fault. I'm actually really relieved, knowing that. A-anyway, since Shino-san hasn't woken up yet, I figured I could speak for the both of us." Ryūnosuke took a step back, placed his hands at his side, and lowered his head in a deep bow that made Ishida's skin crawl, "Thank you for sparing our lives, Ishida-san! I am forever grateful!"
That fervent expression of gratitude hung in the air like a thick smog while Ryūnosuke held his bow. When he finally raised his head again, he smiled nervously and said, "That . . . Well, that was all I needed to say, so I'll be going now. Thank you again, Ishida-san!" With a wave, he was gone, as suddenly as he'd appeared.
Ishida stared, unblinking, long after he was out of sight. He couldn't breathe, let alone move.
Bile lapped at the back of his throat and he wretched, nearly emptying his stomach on the spot. Sweat dripped down his face, blurring his vision and making him feel as slimy on the outside as he did inside.
He'd tried to kill those rookie Shinigami. That was a fact. He remembered his intentions very clearly; they were obstacles, mere annoyances to squash underfoot. He'd had every intention of killing them, and the only reason he didn't was that they weren't worth his time.
So why was he thanked?!
Ishida stumbled, leaning hard against the wall. The hand he braced himself on trembled so that he couldn't muster the strength to straighten up again. He was a monster. The kind of horrific creature that demands blood tribute in exchange for not laying waste to the world around him. That undeserved gratitude seared his soul.
Someone, a doctor or nurse, he couldn't tell which, stopped to help him, but he refused them. He didn't deserve anyone's help. Wiping the sweat and tears from his eyes, he straightened himself and put on the most convincing calm he could manage. It was an effort that strained him to his limits, but the Shinigami nodded, returning to their duties with a worried expression.
Through sheer force of will, Ishida carried himself out of the 4th Division barracks with a straight back. The crowd outside swept him away and deposited him out of sight of the building. And just as well. All of those Quincies, freed from the strings of the Wandenreich and working to right their wrongs . . . it was painful to be in their presence.
The depth of his sin was far greater than theirs. Where they fought against an enemy they didn't know, he turned his blade on those he'd considered allies to one extent or another. Simply working hard to assist the Seireitei was not nearly enough to make amends. Pressing his back against the wall of an empty alleyway, Ishida slowly sank deeper and deeper into despair. He was irredeemable, so why shouldn't he let his legs give out? Why shouldn't he sit and rot here in this forgotten corner?
Sitting still and worrying about what we could have done is pointless.
The voice echoed in his head, but he smothered it.
If you've done something wrong, then the only way to make it right is to take action.
And what was he supposed to do? Move boxes? Deliver paperwork? His mistake was much too personal for that. He wouldn't be redeemed so easily. Kurosaki's face flashed in his mind.
. . . you're already standing on your own two feet . . .
He . . . He was standing on his own, wasn't he? His mind was his own. Haschwalth wasn't in control anymore. Ishida pushed, halting his slide to the ground. He wasn't down yet.
As long as he could stand, he could still do something, however small, to fix his mistakes. Without Kurosaki to guide him, he was aimless, but so what? If the worst that could happen was that he ended up right back on the collision course with the ground, then what exactly did he have to lose by trying?
Another possibility existed. Things wouldn't turn out perfectly in all likelihood, but they wouldn't get better if he didn't take that first step. Ishida straightened and pushed himself off the wall, wide-eyed. Sōken, he . . . was that the point? Working with the Shinigami wasn't a dead-end, it was a first step! It was never ideal, but without establishing that relationship there was no way to improve the situation. Wasn't it possible that, by throwing away their pride, the Quincies could have prevented their destruction? His grandfather's kind face drifted to the surface of his thoughts. That man had intended to sacrifice himself to protect what he cared about. He would have subjected himself to Shinigami control in order to ensure the survival of the Quincies. Of that, Ishida had no doubt. Not anymore.
Sōken's attempt ended in failure. Things turned out just as they would have if he hadn't done anything. But that small chance for success made clear a peaceful world that could be reached with enough effort. Realizing that, Ishida clenched his fists and blinked back tears. He wasn't going to be overwhelmed by his mistakes. He wouldn't let his sin define him. There was no path ahead of him, so he'd just have to make one.
But how? He could confirm his resolve as much as he liked, but the fact remained that he had no idea where to even start. No, he shook his head, if I insist on doing this myself, I'll just end up standing still again. If Sōken can swallow his pride, so can I!
That left the question of who he could ask for help. He almost faltered, realizing that the only real friend he had in the Soul Society was Kurosaki, and he wasn't in a position to help anyone at the moment. And furthermore, that guy was more the type to take the reins and protect you from trouble than the type to help you down your own path.
He could try to contact Urahara Kisuke, but that man was supposed to be a fugitive from the Seireitei. How many people could he approach who had any way to contact him? Ishida danced around the idea as long as he could, but ultimately, there was only one person he could turn to.
"It's enough to help protect Soul Society, right, Kurosaki?"
He would have to apologize to Kurosaki for not following his advice later, but for now he had some things to discuss with a certain mad scientist.