Hahaha. Fear me, for I am AWESOME! I got this chapter up despite the horrible tragedy that has befallen me! (Namely, THREE exams and then spilling hot chocolate on my laptop and having the keyboard freak the hell out. (An example written on my laptop? Okay: Ri m ame is RMooRClaimed. RI like wRii soRies. Row aRe ouRRRRR odaR 12347890 p-;/ (Yeah. Not good.))
But I love you guys, so I've done my best. I hope you don't mind that it's short given the circumstances. And now:
Cruel to be Kind: Chapter 5: And the Wheels do Roll
XXXXXXXXXXXX—Three Weeks Previous—XXXXXXXXXXXX
"Ichigo?" Chad called as his eyes skidded across the dark shadows of the alley in search of a trace of his best friend's bright hair, a bag of groceries dangling from one hand. He had been on his way home from the store when he felt Ichigo's reiatsu flaring wildly and immediately rushed over to check on him. Ichigo had been worrying them all lately.
He shook himself out of his thoughts and got back to what was important. The reiatsu was still flickering oddly, and Chad couldn't figure out why Ichigo would be in a dingy, garbage strewn back alley like this.
Ah, maybe that was it. Could Ichigo have left his body here and then had it buried under a pile of refuse while he was gone? It was a distinct possibility…
Wait a minute, Chad stilled, eyes wide. "Ichigo! Are you okay?"
A faint rustle answered him; Chad rushed to the source of the sound. He let out a heavy breath of relief when he noticed that the other boy was sitting safely between two piles of trash, but then he noticed the state the other was in.
He was curled into himself, rubbing his hands obsessively against his thighs, and muttering something under his breath over and over. Chad slowly inched his way over to the redhead, careful not to make any loud sounds or sudden movements. Right now, Ichigo resembled a small, injured animal more than the strong warrior Chad knew him to be.
He stopped several feet in front of the other, squatted on his haunches, and tried to catch the other's eyes with his own. After meeting with little success, he tried calling again, "Ichigo?"
"The hollow," Ichigo replied, instead of giving a straight answer. He took a shuttering breath and started again, as though admitting a wrong doing, "It got away."
"I'm…" Chad shifted uncomfortably, "I'm not sure I understand, Ichigo. That's not so horrible. Why are you so... so upset? Unless… you think it will go on to hurt a ghost?"
"No. Yes. No." Ichigo hugged his legs closer to his chest and continued so quietly that Chad almost didn't hear, "Not only the ghosts. The hollow… it was crying. Every time I see them, they're crying." Ichigo lifted his eyes from his lap to search Chad's face, "I have to help them too, don't I?" Ichigo looked him in the eye, pleading for an answer. Chad had never seen him look so young as in that moment, not even when he was a shrimp of a thirteen year-old getting bullied in a back alley—one a lot like this, really.
After a few seconds where Chad floundered for something to say, Ichigo's head dropped back down to stare at his knees. "But I was too slow. I couldn't save this one."
Chad sighed and moved closer to the other teen. He reached out and put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, and squeezed it reassuringly. "Come on, I'm taking you home. Your sister's will be worried."
XXXXXXXXXXXX— Present—XXXXXXXXXXXX
"Ah man, why is that punk always like that? Even when he doesn't know who I am he's an asshole," Kon grumbled as he rubbed at his newly blackened eye and staggered back up to his feet.
"Ichigo, you-" He cut off and blinked repeatedly when he noticed that the teen was sprawled out awkwardly on the ground. "Hey, why are you-" His brain then finally caught up and made the obvious leap that something might just be wrong.
"Crap! Hey! Hey, Ichigo, are you all right?" He questioned shakily as he cautiously reached down to shake the unresponsive boy.
"Don't touch him." A voice called out, much sharper than Kon had ever heard it. The blond looked back over his shoulder to glance at Urahara.
"Why? Is he that badly hurt?" His eyes widened. "Is it a neck injury? Or when that bastard hollow bashed his head against the pavement?" Kon swallowed thickly at the memory of the dully-wet, wholly-sickening thud Ichigo's skull had made on impact with the ground.
"Itsygo?" Nel called hopefully, small fingers buried in the fabric of Urahara's top. When the orange-haired boy did not immediately pop up with reassurances on his lips at the sound of her voice, the way he always had in the past, her eyes spilled over. "Itsygoooo!"
"Calm down, Nel." Urahara said a great deal more gently, but still far too seriously for the situation to be anything but dire. Kon got the uncomfortable feeling that something beyond his understanding was taking place. "Kurosaki-kun is going to be fine. Tessai!" He called to the hulking form of his formerly unnoticed assistant. "Bring Kurosaki-kun back to the shoten."
"Of course," the man bowed before carefully gathering the redhead's sprawled body up in his arms and marching back the way he had come.
"Yeah," Kon sighed in relief, "I don't know what I was thinking. That idiot always ends up all right in the end." He started walking away, but Urahara called him back.
"And where are you going?"
"Hmm? Oh," the mod-soul rubbed at the back of his head, "I know you can take care of him, but I figure with the way things are Ichigo's dad will wan'ta know what happened."
"No."
Kon quirked a brow. "What do ya mean 'no'? I'm just gonna-"
In an instant, Urahara stood mere inches in front of Kon, glaring down at him out of oddly fierce eyes. "I mean 'no'. You're not to tell Isshin anything."
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Kon stood over the futon where Ichigo rested in one of the back rooms of the shoten and watched the brat sleep. He had no idea what was going on, but he was smart enough to know he didn't like it.
Urahara had not only not allowed him to go get Ichigo's father, he also hadn't let Tessai do more than rudimentary first aid on the injured teen despite the big man's protests. Broken ribs and a concussion were nothing to laugh at. The ex-captain claimed that he didn't want Ichigo to be exposed to any more reiatsu than he already had been, but Kon couldn't bring himself to buy it. Nothing about this felt right. In fact, this whole damn situation was just—
"I've been waiting for this, you know. One was bound to get through to him eventually."
"Urahara-san?" Kon questioned, turning to look at the man who hovered by the open door, "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, come now. You're not as stupid as you look; I should know, I helped create you."
At the mod-soul's confused silence, Urahara sighed theatrically. "The hollow. I knew those kids would slip up eventually. I might have helped it along a little, but really, everyone must have seen this coming. He was never going to be able to stay alive for very long."
Kon narrowed his eyes and turned to face the man fully, not quite able to wrap his mind around what he had just heard.
Urahara took a moment to smile croockedly at him, "I'm telling you this because it's important that you don't act rashly and… let's say, blab about those silly little theories I can see floating around in your head."
Not having any real idea what was going on, but realizing there was something very off about the other man, Kon opened his mouth to speak but found himself groping blindly for words. Something was wrong here. Forget what the store manager said, he was gonna go get Isshin now.
"You know, I was one of the researchers in charge of Project Spearhead. And as any competent scientist, I acknowledge that it is my responsibility to take care of my own mistakes."
"W-what? What are you talking about?" the mod-soul asked, taking a tentative step away from the taller man.
"Nothing, nothing," he waved the question away with a careless hand. "Just that it might be wise for those that the Soul Society still wants dead—I'm sorry, I mean dismantled—to be careful not to give those that provide them asylum reason to be upset." Urahara grinned benevolently. "Understand?"
Kon could only stare at the man he had always thought of as a friend and try to stop his hands from shaking. "W-wha-"
Urahara's smile grew wider, his eyes sharp and half-hidden behind the lip of his hat. "I asked if you understood?"
Kon could only nod weakly, unable to speak around his suddenly parched throat.
"Good!" Urahara clapped decisively, "I'd hate for something regrettable to happen because of a simple misunderstanding." He patted the younger man on the shoulder before strolling cheerfully out of the room snapping the door closed behind him.
Kon remained very still until the sound of Urahara's merrily clacking geta faded into the recesses of the shop. He was able to draw a single, ragged breath before his knees finally gave out and he was sent crashing to the floor.
He landed heavily on his arm, but the pain went unnoticed. Instead he curled into himself and tried to ward off the sudden, hysterical longing for the numbness his old, plush body had afforded him and the nice, safe corner of the room he had once inhabited.
He shuddered and pressed his forehead into the cool wood of the floorboards, wondering vaguely when the world had fallen apart without him noticing.
What… What just happened?
XXXXXXXXXXXX
"It's time. I've got him." Urahara paced listlessly while holding the phone to his ear. He distractedly twirled the cord around one finger, unwound it, and twirled it again.
Damn it, he had never wanted it to end up this way! But Ichigo… What else was he supposed to do? If only the kid wasn't so bullheaded, then maybe this all could have been avoided. But no. It was too late for thoughts like that; he had picked his path, and now he'd have to walk down it.
"How will you deal with the ryoka and the family? They won't simply accept the boy's disappearance, but we must do this as quietly as possible." The thin voice wavered through the receiver, as though coming from a great distance.
"A hollow just attacked him…" Urahara smiled, but his eyes were empty, "I'm afraid I came just a few seconds too late. But then, I suppose it's only right that Kurosaki-kun died in the way his mother did. Or at least, Isshin will think so."
There was a moment's pause before the voice continued, "That's fine then, but given those circumstances they'll want the body…"
"Once we get him away from here, he won't need it anymore."
"…All right. We will be there to collect him within the hour."
Urahara released a deep breath and almost collapsed with relief. It was almost over now.
"Urahara-san?"
"Yes?" he breathed.
"Good work." The other end disconnected with a click.
It was finally over. Everything was in motion, and his part in this was done. So why, at those two simple words, did he suddenly feel like screaming?
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Ichigo groaned as he woke up and rubbed at a pounding temple. He sat up, looked around, and then immediately flopped back down.
"Why the hell do I keep ending up here?" he muttered to the vertical sky.
"Maybe the li'l voice in yer head is trin' to tell ya somet'ing," a distorted voice answered in far too reasonable a tone to be anything approaching reasonable.
"Ah!" Ichigo jerked as his own inverted face came to hover mere inches away from his eyes.
"Hi-ya, Partner," Hichigo crowed, all too smug.
Ichigo smacked him upside the head. "Why do you always pull this shit, Hichigo?" he demanded hotly.
"It's no' my fault tha-"
They both paused when they realized what the colored version of their soul had just said.
"Hey," Hichigo chuckled nastily, "It work-"
"How the hell did I know your name? Who the hell are you? And where the fuck am I?"
"-ed." The albino boy clapped a hand over his eyes. "Or not."
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Kon strolled as casually out of the Urahara shoten as he could bring himself to, then took off down the street once he thought himself a safe distance away from that guy.
It didn't matter, he decided, what happened to him. Ichigo was the only reason he had lived as long as he had anyway. And he was definitely the only reason that Kon had ever been given any kind of body or allowed to live any kind of real life.
Kon couldn't claim he was selfless enough to just give his life up for anyone. Risking it was one thing, but just giving it way was something else. But Isshin was an ex-captain too and maybe, he justified to himself, he would be willing to protect him from the crazy bastard. Because he so owed him after this.
Hell, the universe owed him after this.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Their swords clanked softly at their hips as they filed into the meeting room in two long lines. A tall, dark-haired man met eyes with his nearest neighbor and sighed, before rubbing a hand against his stubble-strewn jaw. He had thought this kind of thing was over with for a little while. Didn't they deserve a break? He certainly thought so. But try explaining that to the Boss Man.
…Speak of the devil.
At the front of the room, their leader drifted into place, his second at his shoulder. He stood silent for a moment—studying his subordinates critically—before letting the leather bound tome he had held in one hand bang loudly against the table, the sound calling attention for him.
As those gathered turned to face him, Aizen allowed himself a satisfied curl of the lips. "I have a job for you."
XXXXXXXXXXXX
^ - ^