He waits a couple of weeks to bring the subject up with Kurosaki. There is no best way to go about this but Uryuu must be very cautious. Ukitake reminded him that most people suffering from DID don't even realize they're sharing time with alters. Shoving that suddenly in someone's face can be incredibly dangerous to the psyche. In the interim, he focuses on Kurosaki's anger and impulse-control. He assigns practice with the techniques Kyouraku instructed and asks about Kurosaki's progress, which is positive.
When he senses a heightened stability in Kurosaki today, Uryuu decides it is time to take that next step.
"Kurosaki, I would like to discuss your black-outs."
"What about 'em?"
"Did you ever consider that the issue might lie not with your memory, but your perspective?"
"The hell does that mean?"
Looking out the window to the sun-streaked foliage oscillating with summer wind, Uryuu takes a second to phrase this properly. Part of him wants to just blurt things like 'multiple personalities' and 'PTSD' but that won't get him anywhere. Kurosaki inspires that type of eager forwardness in him more often than he'd like to admit. But the very last thing he wants to do is damage this man in any way. So he takes his time.
"When you fought those young men in the alley, do you remember hearing a voice or feeling another presence right before you lost time?" Kurosaki frowns, thinking hard about that time. When he doesn't respond, Uryuu tries again. "And when you spoke with me about your past partners a while back, did you feel something inside you shifting. Maybe a feeling similar to falling into quicksand or through a trapdoor?"
"M-maybe, I…I don't know."
Touching a shaking hand to his forehead, Kurosaki stares hard at the floor and blinks rapidly. Uryuu can tell the strain of remembering what parts of him clearly wants to keep hidden is becoming too much for him. Quickly, he changes the subject.
"If you're amenable, Kurosaki, how about we play a simple game?"
"What kind of game?"
"It's called word-association. I will say a word or short phrase and you will tell me the first image or idea that comes to mind."
"I've heard of that," he says, lowering his hand to see Uryuu clearly. "What's the point of it—to gauge my state of mind or something?"
"Precisely."
"I guess it's all right."
Uryuu gives a small smile as he pulls a clipboard from his desk. He reads from a prepared list and records Kurosaki's answers. Starting with easy ones like 'cat' and receiving normal answers like 'dog', Uryuu slowly works up to more abstract notions. Phrases such as 'significant other' and responses of 'boyfriend' are far more telling. But still average, considering Kurosaki's inclinations. The interesting bits come towards the very end.
"Suicide," Uryuu levelly recites, glancing up to watch the reaction.
Kurosaki frowns incrementally, eyes darting to three separate spots before he meets Uryuu's steady gaze and says, "Mistake."
"Murder."
Eyes widen and Uryuu watches uncertainty bloom in them. Kurosaki will thank him for this later, but for now he is unable to comprehend the purpose of this torment. His heart twinges to think he is abusing Kurosaki's hard-won trust in him to achieve what may inevitably save him.
"…Evil."
"Loss of control."
"Inevitable."
Uryuu's eyes narrow and he recognizes the tipping point. Following Ukitake's advice, he exploits the opening.
"Do you fear losing control, Kurosaki?" he murmurs quick and cold like the slide of a knife. "Fear your own fury when you start to slip into that dark place that always finds you at your lowest?"
Stunned, the man's jaw falls as his chest does double-time.
"Ishida…" he warns—begs Uryuu to stop. He almost does. Then he remembers why they are here.
"You know the other is always waiting for you to fail. To rise up and shut you out of your own body when you don't have the courage to—"
"Doc," Kurosaki's alter cuts him off. "Just who the fuck do ya think yer gabbin' at?"
"You tell me."
Sinister, calculating eyes turn on him. Uryuu feels the instinctive trepidation of prey before a predator. It's a familiar enough sensation; one he has previously associated with the anticipation of pleasure. Thanks to his wild ex-boyfriend. An inappropriate mixture of the two reactions trip him up for a critical moment.
"Clever boy," the man praises. "Figured us out, didn'tcha?"
"You weren't exactly subtle the last time we met."
"Like I care whether ya know just how broken poor little Ichigo is," he huffs, flopping a wrist in ennui. "Kudos to ya for being the first to figure out how to call me out, though."
"And who are 'you'?" Uryuu asks, absolutely fascinated. He can't help leaning forward eagerly as he asks, "What is your name?"
"I ain't got one."
"Surely you must go by something…"
"Ichigo calls me 'Shirosaki', on account of us bein' total opposites, but that ain't my name."
"Kurosaki is aware of your existence, then?" Uryuu almost leaps from his chair in shock. "Going so far as to nickname you!"
"Sometimes he is, sometimes he ain't. Just depends." With a sigh and an indolent stretch, Shirosaki stands and looks around in annoyance. "Look, Doc, I ain't got time to play twenty questions with ya. Ichigo won't lemme out to play very often, so I gotta take what I can get when I can, ya know? See ya."
"Wait, Shirosaki!"
"Huh?"
"Play a quick game with me and I'll make it interesting for you."
It's a bluff—mostly. But Uryuu is desperate. He doesn't want to unleash the alter that tends to beat people up, cheat on lovers, and break into places. Also, he wants to learn more about him while he has him here. A little moral wiggle-room is necessary for these kinds of delicate situations, right?
"Yeah?" Shirosaki breathes, sidling back to stand a handbreadth from Uryuu, who unwittingly jumped from his seat to stop him. "How'll ya do that, Doc?"
"Answer a few more questions for me and you'll see."
"Not good enough."
"What would you like, then?" he offers as Shirosaki turns to leave again.
"I think I made it clear last time what I want from you," the man purrs, dipping down the few inches difference in their heights to inhale from between the strands of Uryuu's hair. Lips brush his ear in passing and it takes everything Uryuu has not to shiver from it. "But ya can't do that with me here, can ya?"
"Unfortunately."
"Then I'm not interested."
"Is Kurosaki?" Uryuu asks because he just has to know for some reason. "Interested, I mean."
He has heard Kurosaki's low laughter on several occasions by now. It is a self-conscious, quiet thing full of warmth and hesitant affection. The sounds that come from his throat now are none of those. Shirosaki giggles high and mischievous like a mental patient. It warbles with his Adam's apple and hints at a brutality just below the surface.
"Why do you ask, Doc?"
The way he asks, with a careful tilt of his head while peering down at Uryuu through slatted eyes indicates condescension. He falters, realizing that he has said something careless. But Shirosaki just laughs again and strides from his office. Hesitating where he stands, Uryuu hears the alter shout an extremely impolite catcall at Ise on his way out. Uryuu follows him past her desk, through the reception area, and into the stairwell.
"Shirosaki, wait!" His entreaty echoes around the looping concrete structure, soon joined by that bone-chilling giggle. "I've changed my mind. Come back into my office and—"
Turning a corner too quickly, he doesn't see Shirosaki's lurking frame until it's slamming him against the wall. Uryuu loses his breath for a vital moment. Adrenaline surges at the mild pain radiating from his shoulders and he quickly suppresses the instinctive reaction to fight back. Although Shirosaki isn't attacking him, the fierce light to his eyes is still disconcerting. He holds Uryuu firmly to the cold white bricks with an arm across his collar bone. They both know he could easily escape from it if he chose.
"I'm not as dense as Ichigo, y'know. I've got a better nose for sniffin' lies, too."
"I can't let you leave like this," Uryuu calmly returns. "You could hurt someone."
"If ya try'n make me stay, I'll hurt you, Doc."
"No. You won't."
Grin widening into a jackal's leer, "Wanna bet?"
"Do I seem afraid, Shirosaki?" The man blinks at that, humor abating as he looks into Uryuu's unperturbed eyes. He pushes against Shirosaki's chest and the man takes a step back, dropping the restrictive arm to frown in puzzlement. "You're used to being the 'big, bad wolf,' aren't you? What do you do when you can't inspire terror in your victims?"
"I give 'em a reason to be terrified," he snarls after a short pause. "So don't tempt me."
"Show me."
"Wha—"
"If you're such a badass, why don't you show me?" Buzzing with something between fear and excitement, Uryuu steps towards him in challenge. "Come on, Shirosaki, terrify me."
With a confused growl, Shirosaki lunges for him but Uryuu is already dodging. Sprinting up the stairs towards the lounge which is always empty at this time of day. He has to get Kurosaki back in charge before this gets any worse. At least trigger a less aggressive alter, if he even has one. Chances are Kurosaki has at least two, according to the statistics, so Uryuu just has to stress his psyche until another switch occurs. And since defusing the conversation didn't work he'll have to try escalation.
Shirosaki is hot on his heels. Verging on becoming out of breath after running up five flights, Uryuu bursts through the door and breathes a sigh of relief as he crosses the short hall to the vacant room. Inside are a kitchenette area, lounge area with sofas and TV, and a wide dining table with chairs. He skids to a stop on the other side of the table and drags out a chair to hold between him and Shirosaki. Suddenly he sympathizes with lion tamers. The man is panting as hard as Uryuu, looking all the more feral for the glare he has adopted.
"The chase was fun, Lil' Rabbit, but now I've caught ya. Prepare t'be eaten."
There is nothing friendly about the smile he flashes Uryuu; it is equal parts violence and lust. Maybe he should be scared. But Uryuu knows something Shirosaki does not. Releasing the chair, he kicks it aside and leaves his arms at his sides, palms relaxed. Shirosaki raises an eyebrow but can't be bothered with caution. He pounces at Uryuu, who uses his momentum and a quick turn to shove him aside at the last second. Recovering fast, Shirosaki swipes at him. Uryuu kicks out a foot to knock him from his feet. Before the man can get up, Uryuu uses the chair to pin him to the floor between its narrow, sturdy legs. Biting back a victory smirk, he sinks into the chair to weigh it down.
"What was that about catching a rabbit, Shirosaki?"
"Ya sonuva—get this fuckin' chair off me!"
He watches Shirosaki wriggle and flop for a minute until they're both satisfied he is trapped. Paying close attention, Uryuu does not miss the moment Shirosaki gives up and goes still. It is all the more obvious due to the matching change in expression. The manic light dims from his eyes and becomes a sullen shadow instead. Eyebrows crease in close resemblance with Kurosaki's usual tension, though there is a more resigned lilt to them now.
"Shirosaki?" he tries. The man gives him a look that implies insulting things about Uryuu's intelligence. "Kurosaki?"
"Neither," comes a listless monotone. "Keep guessing and you might just get it before we both expire of dehydration."
Startled, Uryuu gets up to pull the chair away and warily free his new captive. The man stands slowly, as if injured, and Uryuu has to keep himself from reaching out to check for any. This new alter walks over to the nearest couch and sinks into it with a weary slouch. Joining him, Uryuu can't help thinking he reminds him of a moody teenager. Yet, there is a profound sorrow radiating from his features that speaks of a long, difficult life. He lifts disinterested eyes to Uryuu and blinks.
"What is your name?"
"Why should I tell you?"
"I'm curious."
"It doesn't matter. None of it matters."
"Surely that isn't true," Uryuu insists, heart zinging at the red flag phrase. If he just dragged out a long-repressed suicidal alter…Shirosaki would have been preferable to that. "Some things matter to you, don't they? Kurosaki matters."
"He is a fool. An arrogant brat." Though his words are harsh, they are said without much emotion. "Look at what he has made of himself. The lives he has ruined. The opportunities he has squandered."
"Everyone makes mistakes."
"We are cursed, a blight to all we touch."
"No," Uryuu hisses with abrupt anger. He leans forward and stares into those darkened eyes. "You, Kurosaki, even Shirosaki—you're all worthy of friendship. Acceptance. Love. Don't you dare say otherwise."
"There are reasons most cultures lock up kids like Ichigo. You don't know what we're capable of."
"Neither do you." Contemplative at that, he falls silent and allows Uryuu to elaborate. "I know Kurosaki is struggling right now but I also know he can change. He can work through this with the proper care and improve his life—all of your lives—in good time. Don't lose hope. Don't ever lose hope."
Something begins to lighten in his demeanor. Uryuu waits out the silence, sensing complex thoughts in process. When the man stands after a lengthy pause, Uryuu mirrors him. He speaks two words before turning to leave.
"Thank you."
"Wait," Uryuu requests, taking gentle hold of his arm. "Promise me you'll go home right after this. Promise me you won't hurt anyone else…or yourself."
Gazing at Uryuu with gentle comprehension, his brow relaxes a fraction and he nods once. "I promise, Ishida Uryuu."
Their next session starts out somewhat strained.
Uryuu had checked the news that day for orange-haired delinquents terrorizing the town after Kurosaki left his office. Thankfully, he found nothing. Kurosaki has no new black-outs to report, either. Though he is openly confused about why he can't remember leaving Uryuu's building last Thursday. He is asking too many pointed questions and giving Uryuu those clear, honest eyes. Looking to him for guidance. But Uryuu doesn't think Kurosaki is ready for the full truth just yet. He doesn't want to push too far and risk shoving him over a cliff.
So he thinks of the most inane, unrelated thing to discuss and opens with that. Something he's been meaning to bring up anyway.
"You mentioned a young woman you knew in high school. Orihime, wasn't it?"
"Did I? Yeah, um," Kurosaki scratches absently at his scalp. It is a token of their progress that he now readily talks about a former romance. "Inoue is what I called her. Inoue Orihime."
"Did you go to Karakura High?"
"Yeah. Is that in my file?"
"No, nothing that detailed."
"Then how'd you know?"
"Because a good friend of mine is named Inoue Orihime. She and I met in Karakura High School."
"No way!" Kurosaki grins, lighting up at the idea. "You saying you and I went to the same school?"
"I was a young senior when you were a freshman," he calculates, thinking back to those two years with little difficulty. "But yes, for one year we were practically classmates."
"That's so weird," he laughs. Kurosaki looks at Uryuu, squinting and tilting his head as though he could picture him a decade younger. "Now you mention it, I remember seeing your name on the scoreboards. I thought it was read 'Ametatsu' instead of 'Uryuu'. Figured it was some smart chick who kept beating everybody out. To think it was a nerdy little kid my age!"
Uryuu inwardly rolls his eyes, taking the insult without offense. "It is unusual that we would end up running into each other again after all these years. In a different city, no less."
"Do you believe in fate?"
He thinks it's a joke. Yet, Kurosaki isn't smiling: he's waiting for an answer.
"Not really."
"Yeah, me neither."
But the light frown and averted gaze say otherwise. Slowly, the novelty of past acquaintance fades and Kurosaki sinks in to his thoughts as Uryuu watches the humor recede. In its place forms a cloudy mood denoted by the frown pulling at Kurosaki's mouth and brow. It is an upsetting memory he is reliving, but not on a scale with those which seem to force a switch.
"How were your experiences in high school?" Uryuu asks as gently as possible because he suspects the answer.
"Not great."
"Were you in therapy at the time?"
"Not for very long. The school counselor had a listening problem. Talked over me more than she heard what I said, so I stopped going."
"Were you referred to her?"
"Yeah, by a teacher who found me—" Kurosaki frowns, cutting himself off and glancing away in discomfort. Uryuu waits for him to choose whether he wants to share this or not. "He caught me on the roof. Thought I was smoking or something. Then he saw my shoes."
Uryuu nods slightly with the confirmation of Kurosaki's near suicide attempt. There are always cues and signals in someone who has reached that point and turned back for whatever reason. He understands these things are often best dealt with after the patient freely divulges such a delicate matter on their own. Uryuu is just glad it happened sooner rather than later.
"Did the therapist prescribe medication? That's a standard practice these days."
"Yeah, she tried," Kurosaki wryly grins. "I balled the 'script up and threw it at her, then walked out of her office."
"Have you ever taken antidepressants?"
"That's funny," he says, staring at Uryuu like he just grew horns. "Pills are like the very first thing shrinks try to sell you—as soon as they hear the word 'sad'—but you. It took you this long to even ask. That's what I like about you, Ishida. You just don't do anything normal."
"Thank you," Uryuu sarcastically mutters.
Then Kurosaki genuinely replies, "You're welcome," and Uryuu struggles with an odd feeling as the man smiles at him.
"Then you've never accepted medication?"
"Hell no." Uryuu must be giving him a pensive expression because Kurosaki's obstinacy wanes. Replaced with a faint uncertainty. "Why—you think it'd help?"
"In some cases a combination of therapy and chemicals may be most effective. In your case, Kurosaki, I believe we stand more to gain by avoiding mood-altering drugs. I don't think your condition is a neurological deficiency, but more likely a series of significant trauma sustained over your lifetime which has steadily eroded your primary sense of self." Uryuu stops there before he accidentally says anything indicative of his knowledge of Kurosaki's alters. Judging by the thoughtful look on his face, however, Uryuu worries he has failed. Before he can start asking those questions, Uryuu continues. "What about recreational drugs?"
"You asking if I'm a druggie now?"
"Not at all. You might be surprised, Kurosaki, to know that a majority of citizens have tried them at some point in their lives." Uryuu resists the urge to start rattling off statistics, knowing it won't do any good with Kurosaki. "I don't mean to assume you're a habitual drug user by any means. I am curious, however, as to whether you have had experiences with them and how they may have affected your condition."
"I used to smoke pot and cigarettes at university sometimes…"
"Tetrahydrocannabinol—the active chemical found in cannabinoids frequently called THC—has been shown to alleviate a variety of mental distress symptoms such as anxiety, anger, and feelings of hopelessness. It also stimulates the creative centers of the brain quite effectively."
"Ishida," he laughs, "Are you telling me to get high as a form of therapy?"
"Of course, as your psychiatrist I cannot advise the illegal use of medicinal supplements." Even if Kyouraku-sensei wouldn't hesitate to do so. "What about a psychoactive compound commonly called Ecstasy? It was originally developed as a treatment for soldiers suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."
"Oh, man…"
"Is this discussion making you uncomfortable?"
"No, it's not that," Kurosaki shakes his head and gives Uryuu an odd look. "You talking about this stuff just has me wondering if you have ever tried this shit. It's kind of an awesome idea. How un-Ishida-like you'd be without your rules and inhibitions."
Balking at that, Uryuu holds his comments because he suspects he might stutter them right now. Kurosaki would be tickled to know that Uryuu has tried a few different drugs due to the influence of others close to him. He has never liked how they strip his inhibitions from him, though, so he is not exactly fond of the notion. A part of him whispers that with Kurosaki it might not be so bad.
"Yes, well—"
"I tried X once. I can't say whether it had much of an effect on my mental health, though," he smirks at the memory, "Since I spent most of the night having too much sex. Woke up dehydrated and sore."
"T-those are common side-effects," Uryuu clears his throat to say. It's his turn to picture Kurosaki indulging in a nice high. "Particularly the, um, amorous activities you mentioned. Although its therapeutic use is aimed more towards anxiety-reduction."
"Then it worked. Anxiety was the furthest thing from my mind."
"Would you be interested in trying it again—the drug, not the, um. Sex part." Uryuu purposely avoids Kurosaki's eyes as he speaks, pretending to jot down a note on his clipboard instead. "There are certain compounds very similar to ecstasy which are legal, though less effective."
"You have, haven't you? Tried drugs." Kurosaki looks him up and down with a shrewd expression. When Uryuu doesn't answer, he shrugs. "I wouldn't be against it, I guess. But I don't want to have to take anything regularly."
"Understandable."
"Anyway, I thought you said I don't need pills."
"It was just an idea."
"You were curious, huh?" Kurosaki snickers. "Admit it."
"I may have been slightly…"
"I knew it."
Uryuu wavers on the choice between being affronted or taking it with grace. After a moment he smirks and Kurosaki's grin widens. Any other patient and Uryuu would have closed right up and put on his professional mask. Working with Kurosaki makes that delineation very difficult at times. So he says something he probably shouldn't. Something that spreads an embarrassed flush across Kurosaki's cheeks.
"At least I'm not the one gleefully imagining my psychiatrist high on drugs."
AN: Any guesses as to who the new alter is?
