Mirage: Chapter two
"I need you to help me find Aizen Sosuke."
Aizen Sosuke. Aizen Sosuke... Where did he hear that name before? And ten years ago? It felt distantly familiar, like an old memory lost in a misplaced photo, or a minor detail in an idle conversation with unimportant people. There was no mistaking this feeling, he somehow knew that name, the connection was right here, sitting in the other chair. There was nothing stretching between him and Toshiro, which assured him they had never talked to each other, hadn't ever seen each other, nothing but the knowledge of their names had ever crossed their paths.
And then it clicked, like the flip of a switch, almost audible in his own ears, he regained the memory of an event that he read about in an aging paper, had discussed it in a lecture hall. The disappearance of several small children had been linked to him, but with no leads on his or the kids' whereabouts, the case had turned cold.
But if Toshiro had a lead, why did he come to him? There was a police station just a few blocks from this building, always open and ready to accept anyone who needed help. The only reason he could muster to think of would be that Toshiro -didn't- have any evidence, nothing physical, anyway. Since the courts ruled out mere speculations and gut feelings, then perhaps there was a chance that he could help him out... depending on what he could pick up. If there was nothing, then that would be the end of the road. But even if there was the slightest chance that there could be something, it's a step that could lead to another.
Ichigo stood, taking a moment to look at a picture of his father and sisters. Toshiro must have been a part of one of those children's families, because f it were Karin or Yuzu captured, even ten years after it happened, he would be continuing the search on his own, doing whatever it took to track down the bastard who took them. Even if it meant going to other questionable sources.
He went to the other side of his desk, rummaging through the drawers. "Alright, I'll help you."
Toshiro lifted an eyebrow. "I honestly didn't think it would be that easy. A simple request and you're ready and willing to help?"
Ichigo shrugged, finding the papers he was seeking buried underneath his stash of good coffee and tea. Yes, he had a drawer dedicated to that stuff, because Orihime was terrible at coffee making, people flocked to his desk for their morning pick-me-up. He had no idea how the papers had managed to shove themselves into that drawer, but he was just thankful he found them.
"I told you, I'm not about the money." He looked at him, looking at his face as closely as possible. Yes, physically, there was nothing but stone. Perfect, like the military man he was. Something told Ichigo that, despite his height, if he tried something, Toshiro would kick his ass. But Ichigo could see past that, into the not-so-perfect person he was portraying. For instance, he could see the paths the tears took whenever Toshiro cried, they spilled out from the corners and never over the middle of the lid. He could see something brown and sweet tracing the mans lips, and he had a brief smell of chocolate. Dark or milk chocolate, he couldn't tell. He could almost hear his laughter at a joke he shared about watermelon, and tangibly feel his heart split in two after the damn jerk used him for sex. He'd never forget that fox-bastard's face, and he swore one day, when he was done sitting in the corner and crying his heart out to his busty best friend that he was going to kick that asshole in the balls the next time he saw him-
A hand waved in front of his face, and Ichigo pulled back from it a little to receive a somewhat curious tilt of white hair. He was doing it again...
"Are you alright, Kurosaki? You look a little pale." He was one to talk. Toshiro was paler than he was. "Do you need to drink something from your drawer?"
Wincing, he pulled himself fully to his feet, only just realizing that he'd been leaning over his desk to better look at the smaller male from up close, then he just sort of got sucked in. It was a problem that happened every now and then, but not too often. Ichigo was still learning to control it, and since he was really the only person with this sort of problem, he was learning by himself, so it was a slow-going process.
He shook his head, trying to clear the hazy image of teal eyes smirking at him. "Sorry, I lost focus. It doesn't happen often." He grabbed a pen and a small piece of memo paper, setting them in front of Toshiro. "Let's call in a night. Write down when and where you want to meet tomorrow, and we'll go from there."
Tohsiro nodded, penning the address and time in neat, cursive, elegant writing. It was so pristine and immaculate, Ichigo could make out every loop and dot before he even made it. With proper thanks for the help, a handshake that made Ichigo's toes curl with the effort to hold back his powers again, and a quick wish of an eventful evening, the white-haired man left. Well, his physical form left. The impression on his chair stayed much longer, and it took every ounce of strength in his hands not to reach over and touch the indent. This was utterly ridiculous. He was going to be late to his date with the sofa and television if he didn't leave soon.
He grabbed his coffee cup, turned off both the computer and light, got his coat and proceeded to lock up the door. The blaring lights were blocked by a pair of shades. He'd been getting really sensitive to light lately. He wondered if it was a random infection or something... The only other person in his family that was sensitive to light was his mother, but she was dead and gone now, so he couldn't look into that. Instead, he made a note to visit an optometrist.
Saying farewells to his office-mates, Renji, Orihime, Uryuu, and Sado, he got into his car, sighing with relief that he would at least get the rest of tonight off, but groaning in angst as he realized he was not going to get that lazy weekend like he'd wished. So much for his birthday...
Done! Well, for this chapter, anyway. XD
