AN: I'm gonna go ahead and give everyone an extra heads-up that this is the chapter where most of those warnings I mentioned at the beginning are going to come in. This chapter contains semi-graphic descriptions of torture and murder. Also, Yoruichi.


Ise silently hands him a post-it note from his lawyer and Uryuu doesn't bother holding back a groan. There's nothing he enjoys less than the sight of that scratchy, nearly illegible jumble of kanji first thing after a late lunch.

"Shihouin-san requests your time after your final session today," she translates the scrawl for him. "Said she'll stop by before you have time to sneak out so don't even think about it."

"Of course she did," Uryuu sighs as he pockets the note. "Thank you."

"And Kurosaki-kun is here."

"Five minutes early?"

"Instead of late," she smirks knowingly. "Yes. He seems excited about something."

"Oh?"

The thought makes Uryuu grin. He always likes seeing his patients in a lighter mood, but Kurosaki in particular brightens nicely with elevated mood. This might be a good day to bring out that suggestion he's had on the back-burner for a while. As usual, he stands from his desk and moves to his grandfather's armchair when Kurosaki enters his office.

"Hello, Kurosa—"

"Hey, Ishida!" he blurts as soon as he sweeps into the room. Kurosaki doesn't let him get to the chair but comes to stand in front of him halfway between his desk and the door. "You'll never guess what happened last Friday."

"Tell me about it," Uryuu says, getting swept up in his energy.

"I went to a bar with some friends—it was Keigo's birthday—and we ended up getting into a fight with these bigoted douchebags—because Chad's half-Mexican—and I was this close to losing it. I mean, I really wanted to pound their dumb racist faces in. But I didn't. I used one of those breathing techniques you taught me and I backed off."

"Wow, that's amazing, Kurosaki." He beams and the shape of it transforms his face. Uryuu smiles back and gets a ridiculous urge to hug the man. Suddenly he feels like an awkward teenager again. "It-it sounds like you've really been applying yourself."

"Yeah, and it's all thanks to you, Ishida," he credits, reaching out to grip Uryuu's shoulders and shake him a little, brimming with enthusiasm. "I've never been able to do that. So, thanks, man."

"Y-you're welcome, Kurosaki."

This close to him, feeling the strength and warmth of those hands through a thin shirt, Uryuu's stomach somersaults over itself in bafflement. He looks into Kurosaki's grateful brown eyes bordered by his choppy orange hair and everything else fades to grey. Dimly, Uryuu realizes Kurosaki is giving him the same bemused stare.

"You've already done so much for me," Kurosaki murmurs, as if to himself.

It takes Uryuu a second to register that statement. Another to think up a response. And one more to actually vocalize it. "Of course. I'm your psychiatrist."

Those words seem to draw them back into the present. Kurosaki's arms return to his sides and Uryuu pivots to make a beeline for his armchair. Kurosaki sits across from him, eyes on the hands he folds in his lap. Uryuu clears his throat as he perches on the cushion.

"Sorry."

"No need to apologize for having pride in your achievements, Kurosaki," Uryuu dismisses, businesslike. Kurosaki opens his mouth to add something but Uryuu pointedly cuts him off. "Now, if you're amenable, I know I've brought this up before and you didn't seem keen on the idea but I really believe it can be extremely beneficial to you. How do you feel about trying hypnotherapy?"

"…Okay."

Kurosaki shrugs and picks at a hole in the knee of his dark jeans. All previous energy has been depleted and Uryuu wonders if his reaction to Kurosaki's news was somehow insufficient. Had he been expecting more of a celebration? Uryuu has a tendency to miss out on those kinds of social cues from time to time.

"I won't force y—"

"No, it's okay. I want to try it."

"If you're sure…"

At length, Kurosaki looks up from his idle task and meets his eyes. "I'm sure."

"All right. Be aware that this may not even work. Some are more susceptible to hypnotic induction than others." Uryuu doesn't add that the more trust shared between participants also increases the strength of the trance. Adopting a slower cadence and a softer tone, he starts to slip into the role. "I'm going to perform a brief test exercise before we begin. Are you ready?"

"Yeah."

"Close your eyes, Kurosaki." Without hesitation, he obeys. "Place your hands palms-down on your knees. Relax your body; find a comfortable position and take a deep breath. Release. Take another breath, inhale as long as you can. Good. Slowly let it out. Now, I want you to imagine your right hand is feeling very light. The pull of gravity is lifting from that hand. Its force is pushing on your left instead. Your left hand is feeling heavier with each passing second—"

Uryuu stops because it has already worked. Without conscious effort, Kurosaki has steadily raised his right hand off his leg so that it floats mid-way between his chin and his knee. This indicates that Kurosaki is highly susceptible to hypnotic suggestion at this time. Surprised, Uryuu reigns in his excitement and instructs Kurosaki to lower his hand.

"What do you mean 'lower my—" He blinks open to see his limb adjusted without his knowledge. "Oh."

"If you're uncomfortable with this we can move on to something else."

"No, it's," Kurosaki snorts a startled laugh and looks at Uryuu, "It's really cool. Let's keep going."

So Uryuu has him remove his shoes and lie face-up on the long sofa. It is just long enough to fit Kurosaki's tall frame. He guides him through a breathing exercise. Tells him to alternate tensing all of his muscles at once and then relaxing them at intervals. Keep breathing, eyes closed, and follow the sound of Uryuu's voice. For Kurosaki's subconscious' sake, he reminds him that this is voluntary, that Kurosaki agreed to be hypnotized, and that he is in a safe place.

Nearly whispering now, Uryuu kneels beside the arm rest above Kurosaki's head and informs him that he is becoming sleepier with each breath. That Uryuu will start counting back from one hundred and each number closer to zero will push him closer to a state very close to REM sleep. He starts counting at a crawling pace, tapping gently to each number as he speaks in a natural rhythm. Every ten or so numbers, he instructs a deeper state of relaxation. By the time he gets to fifty, Kurosaki's chest rises deeply and sinks gradually with a tranquil pace. When he murmurs twenty, no stress is evident; even the permanent perturbed crease between his eyebrows vanishes. Zero is uttered in perfect time with the last of an exhale.

Then Uryuu really begins. He tells Kurosaki to imagine himself on a warm, fluffy cloud. It's a cliché but it's actually one of the easiest ways to reach a suggestive state. This cloud keeps him safe and free of any earthly concerns. Here, nothing can touch him. Reminds him that he can speak but that he will not wake up until Uryuu tells him to do so.

"Can you hear me, Kurosaki?" The man's mouth twitches but he remains silent. Uryuu tries again with a slight alteration. "Can you hear me, Ichigo?"

"Yeah," he hazily responds after a moment's hesitation.

Uryuu retreats to his chair and pulls out his clipboard. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay."

"Is there anything in particular you would like to discuss right now?"

Kurosaki doesn't answer but a couple of his facial muscles twitch to indicate bleary thought. Uryuu wonders if he might be in too deep a trance. Then Kurosaki takes a long breath ending on a low hum.

"There's something I've been wanting to tell you…"

"You can tell me now, Ichigo," Uryuu promises, keeping with the given name which seems to reach him easier. "Whatever it is, you can tell me and you won't remember doing so when you awaken."

"It's hard to talk about."

"Yes. It's easier like this, isn't it, Ichigo?"

"Yeah." After a pause, he frowns lightly and mutters barely audibly, "It's about my mom."

Uryuu's breath catches. This is better than he'd hoped. To get Kurosaki to talk about his mother's death is a major milestone. And after only a few months of treatment, too. Reaching this point is something Uryuu was prepared to work at for much longer.

"Kurosaki Masaki."

"Mom…She was…" Leaning forward, Uryuu notes the sluggish shift of emotions working their way across Kurosaki's sleep-slackened features. Pain, sorrow, frustration. Determination. Then nothing. He just goes blank, with a slight stoic pinch to his mouth. Uryuu is about to ask if he would like to stop for the day when Kurosaki's voice returns strong and unwavering. "Ichigo was twelve years old when he was forced to watch his mother being murdered in front of him."

Startled by the sudden switch, Uryuu thinks he has uncovered a new alter. Unlike the frivolous Shirosaki, this one is serious-business. Unlike the sullen alter he encountered once after stressing Kurosaki too far, this one seems emotionally distant and possibly warrior-esque. There is neither mischief nor despair in his tone.

"You are not Ichigo?"

"I am Zangetsu. I am the one Ichigo turns to when he cannot accomplish what must be done through other means."

"You mean when he can't use violence or sheer perseverance?"

"When he must stand and fight for what is necessary."

"Will you tell me about Masaki?"

"Yes. I will tell you so that Ichigo may begin to accept her death, at long last." Kurosaki's alter speaks almost in monotone. His body language is very tense and minimal. Uryuu has trouble detecting whether that is due to stress or if that is simply Zangetsu's tendency. "Masaki was walking him home from a karate class when they came across a young woman standing too close to a broad river. She appeared to lose balance and fall toward the swollen, rushing waters. Ichigo acted instinctively to help her but it was too late. He reached her just as she flew from his limited grasp.

"That is when Ichigo noticed a man in a thick cloak standing under the bridge. He was wearing a rain-soaked bone-white mask. He was holding a blood-streaked foot-long knife. Ichigo's mother came rushing to him and did not see the man. Her cry as she was stabbed through the spine was the last sound she ever made to him."

"My gods," Uryuu chokes. Hands clenched anxiously over the armrests, his clipboard is forgotten between the cushion and the chair's frame. He had heard she was murdered, but to have witnessed something so gruesome at that age…

"She fell at his feet, paralyzed and going into shock." Zangetsu soberly continues. "The wound was small and she bled slowly. In that time, Ichigo was caught and restrained. Left to watch as the cloaked man dragged his mother under the bridge and cut into her for over an hour. Ichigo cried out but no one heard. No one came for them. And when Masaki finally passed away, Ichigo felt relief."

"Stop—please stop," he begs because Uryuu thinks he is going to be sick. He needs to hear this, needs to understand, but he doesn't know if he is strong enough. "I can't—"

"You will listen!" the alter snaps. "You must be the one to hear it so that Ichigo may heal."

Uryuu takes a ragged breath and nods, though the man can't see it. With a sip of air resembling a sob, he says, "Yes."

"Ichigo was relieved that his mother's pain had ended but he knew it meant his was only beginning. The killer turned to him and Ichigo was too terrified to scream any more. The man with the bone-white mask dripped red and grey over him as he laughed, savoring Ichigo's fear. His mother's yet-warm blood mixed with his very tears and the man dragged a finger through it to taste.

"He sliced through Ichigo's yellow rain jacket and his white shirt. Seeing the knife being raised, Ichigo begged. But the man only laughed at him. He made shallow cuts across Ichigo's torso at first. Each one longer than the last. Ichigo cried out with each one but he no longer hoped for rescue. He thought of his mother's agonized face—the horror he had seen there—and Ichigo prayed for death."

"Ichigo," Uryuu gasps. He falls to his knees beside his prone friend, heart breaking for him. Uryuu has never heard such a horrifying tale, especially first-hand like this. Grasping Kurosaki's limp hand, he squeezes reassuringly and feels a hint of the pressure returned. "Ichigo."

"But he was not forsaken. A tall foreigner wearing a green hat and wooden sandals heard his shouts. He saved Ichigo that day, even though the killer escaped. That foreigner later became a mentor to Ichigo. Urahara taught us many things about battle and honor."

"Thank you for telling me," Uryuu barely manages to say. He looks into Kurosaki's calm face and thinks of the damage his mind has suffered. The limitations he has had to overcome simply to function, to survive. "I'm sorry."

"You will be the one to heal Ichigo," Zangetsu repeats before falling silent for good.

Uryuu takes several minutes to collect himself. The hand he still holds serves to ground him and soon he has recovered enough to bring Kurosaki back to a conscious state. He drags himself back to his chair and fishes out his clipboard, straightens his clothes and his hair. Finally, Uryuu announces the final count to bring Kurosaki to full alertness. The man wakes with a frown and sits up almost hesitantly. Kurosaki rubs at his eyes and turns to Uryuu with a questioning look.

"How are you feeling?"

He intends it to come out confident and serene as usual, but it sounds more like Uryuu just finished choking on a rock. Kurosaki narrows his eyes and tilts his head.

"Did…did it work?"

"Yes."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Yes, for the most part."

"Are you all right, Ishida?" He swings his legs to the floor and leans in to squint at Uryuu's faintly trembling form. "You look like you're gonna be sick."

"I'm fine, Kurosaki. Thank you."

"I didn't say anything…weird, did I?" Uryuu attempts to shake his head and mean it. What ends up happening is a jerky twitch of his neck and a light wince. "Oh, fuck. What did I say, Ishida?"

"You told me about your mother," he mumbles in a small voice. "I asked you about her."

Kurosaki's eyes glaze over in unadulterated astonishment. For a long moment he is too stunned to move. Then his face clouds over with rage. Rather than attack Uryuu, as he rightly should, Kurosaki stands and strides to the door. Uryuu stumbles over himself in his haste to reach it first.

"Move, Ishida."

"Kurosaki, wait a second. Don't leave like this. Let's talk—"

"I'm sick of talking to you," he snaps. "Move!"

Uryuu mutely shakes his head, pressing against the door when Kurosaki invades his space to reach for it. This is childish. He knows it's incredibly childish. But he can't bear the thought of Kurosaki leaving in such a negative mood because of Uryuu. Because he was too ambitious and pushed too far. There's no telling what could happen to Kurosaki in this level of confusion and anger and pain. Uryuu must calm him down before he leaves this office. A sole idea comes to mind.

"L-let me tell you about my grandfather," he half-pleads, desperate. "You told me your secret. Let me tell you mine."

Halting, Kurosaki seems to consider this. He lowers the hand grasping the door handle and takes a step back. Uryuu takes a relieved breath and gestures towards their seats. Grudgingly, Kurosaki obliges the request. Though he throws Uryuu for a loop when he takes the armchair.

"We're role-reversing, right?" Kurosaki asks by way of explanation. "That means I get the shrink-chair."

Under different circumstances, he might consider that amusing. As it stands, Uryuu sits and fights the urge to rest his forehead on the heel of his hand. Then he rips off the band-aid.

"I lost my grandfather when I was a small child." Kurosaki's dark amusement flees his shocked visage. He stays still and quiet as Uryuu relates the story as quickly as possible. "I stayed with him more often than with my own father after my mother passed away. We were at the park late one night because I didn't want to leave. I kept saying, 'Just a little more time, Grandfather,' and he would smile and nod. 'Okay, Uryuu, but then we have to go.'

"Our neighborhood wasn't the nicest then and we occasionally heard about muggings in the area. I'm sure he thought what anyone would: who would mug an old man and his grandson? But sure enough there was a group of thugs on our way home that night."

Pausing to clench his jaw against the rush of sadness this recollection inevitably causes, Uryuu takes steadying breaths. Squeezes his eyes shut for a short moment.

"You don't have to tell me," Kurosaki says much too gently.

"No, I want to."

"Ishida…"

"My grandfather heard them before they saw us. He told me to hide behind a trash can across the street. Made me promise not to move until he called to me. I didn't want to go but he made me swear. I saw them come around the corner and heard the shouting as they demanded his valuables. He offered it willingly but…his money wasn't enough. They wanted his life.

"I watched them pull out weapons and start hitting my grandfather. He begged them to stop but they didn't care. They were probably stoned out of their minds. The four of them didn't quit beating him when he fell to the ground. They waited until he stopped moving. Then they took his possessions and walked away."

"Shit, Ishida," Kurosaki hisses because he never suspected something like this could be lurking in Uryuu's past. No one could have.

"The body wasn't found right away. I watched the blood spreading out in a wide pool, the color turning black over a period of hours. I wanted to go to him but I was too afraid to move. I felt such shame that I had hidden while they attacked him."

"It wasn't your fault! You have to know that!"

"That doesn't change the fact that I left him there," Uryuu's voice cracks as his control slips. "I let his body go stiff and cold in the street because I couldn't face him. And when the police finally showed up and found me, they dragged me over to him and he was…unrecognizable. My father never said it aloud but I knew even then that he blamed me for everything."

"What? How could a little kid have done anything?" he demands with righteous anger for Uryuu's sake. "What kind of parent puts that on their son?"

"You asked once why I don't speak with him anymore," Uryuu wryly reminds him. "That's one reason of many."

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?" he has to ask, thrown by the topic change.

"You've been through just about as much bullshit as I have and you're fine. Better than fine—you're successful. Helping other people fight their demons because you already kicked yours out of the picture."

"My demons are still much more insidious than they seem, Kurosaki. I promise you that."


For a hard-ass lawyer, Shihouin Yoruichi is a bit of a trickster. She slinks into Uryuu's office wearing a fitted pinstripe pantsuit and a Cheshire grin, flicking him in the forehead as a greeting. He blinks at the treatment. Otherwise, he is too drained to present much of a reaction. Uryuu has been brooding about his earlier appointment with Kurosaki all day and he still hasn't been able to parse it. This is the landmark case. The one you get maybe twice in your career, the one you pour all of yourself into in the hopes of making a dent in this person's life. But Uryuu isn't sure all of himself is going to be nearly enough.

"Long time no see, Uryuu!"

"Hello, Yoruichi-san."

"What's with this sullen, 'hello, Yoruichi-san'?" she complains, irritated at his lifeless demeanor. "Is that how you greet an old friend?"

"Sorry. It's been a very long day."

"Rough case, huh?"

"You have no idea."

Not for the first time, Uryuu resents the fact that he can't discuss his patients even with his lawyer, who is also bound by confidentiality contracts. If she wouldn't kill him for even thinking about it, Uryuu would tell her the whole story in a heartbeat. As it is, all he can do is make vague allusions to tangential issues.

"Well, I came by to discuss some new bylaws going into affect next fiscal year," Yoruichi explains, sinking into the stiff seat opposite his desk. "But it seems like you might need some counseling of your own, counselor."

"It's a trauma case." When she raises an eyebrow, he adds, "It's bad."

"Sounds like you might be getting a little too invested, Uryuu," she warns with her tone. Amber eyes sharpen on his guilty face and she scowls. "Didn't we talk about you keeping any excessive compassion out of your practice?"

"Of course, but this person is—"

"Ah—nope! I don't want to hear another word. You need to lock it up right now or so help me, kid…"

"I know."

His evident misery softens her ire somewhat. She lowers the accusatory finger and settles for a medium glare. Even that evaporates when he folds his face into his palms and sighs with his whole body.

"It's really that serious?"

"Yes. It is."

"Tell me about it."

"But—"

"Just this once, Uryuu." Her stern expression can be pretty scary when she puts her mind to it. "I'll give you a pass this one time and never again. Tell me so I can help you out because I've never seen you like this. But this conversation never happened. Got it?"

Uryuu considers refusing. His scruples are probably stronger than hers, in retrospect. Yoruichi is the type of person to do things like peek in the locker room and prank people who take themselves too seriously. But if there is one person he trusts with legal obligations, it is her. She is the best in this business for liability counsel.

Plus, after today's session with Kurosaki, Uryuu is sure he is crossing some minor boundaries with his own conduct towards the man. Under no circumstance is physical contact encouraged between doctor and client; Uryuu had held his hand and been close to tears for him. Not to mention Kurosaki's hands comfortably holding his shoulders at the beginning. There's no way that could be construed as a safe psychiatric relationship. As much as he would like to say it was only the story that influenced him to react that way.

So he tells Yoruichi with as few details as possible while still showing the whole picture. From the physical attraction aspects to the natural sense of camaraderie and friendship. His increasing resolve to cure Kurosaki and ease his mental instabilities. The inappropriate happiness he feels twice a week when he has the man in his office. Elation at the spectacular progress they have made together. The fact that he thinks of Kurosaki outside of work much more often than is reasonable.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Uryuu!?" She takes it fairly well, considering. "You let it get this bad and you didn't call me? I should really slap you around for this, you know!"

"I had it under control," he stubbornly insists. "Until today. I just—"

"Developing a big fat crush on your hot DID patient is not having anything 'under control', let's get that straight right now." Yoruichi stands to pace around his office and gesticulate wildly in her fury. She throws off her jacket to reveal a gold sleeveless top underneath. The tribal butterfly tattoo on her arm flutters erratically with her movements. "For you to tell him about your grandfather, you must be so far off the deep end it's not even funny. Not only that but it sounds as though he probably wants you, too."

"Why would—"

"You said he was sullen and moody at first but now he's practically chatty," she lists on manicured fingers as she continues to wear holes in the floor. "That he's never been interested in retaining a therapist before you, and that he's bisexual. Ergo—you being you, Uryuu—you're probably irresistible to this poor sap."

"I attributed the first two points to my methods, rather than my personality. And as far as Kurosaki being bisexual, that doesn't mean—"

"Oh, please," Yoruichi stops on a dime in four-inch heels to roll her eyes at him. "If you weren't gay I would've gone after your pretty little ass by now. There is zero chance he isn't attracted to you."

Annoyed at being interrupted over and over, Uryuu keeps his mouth shut and argues with his expression.

When she suddenly plops into the chair and leans forward to begin instructing him in reparations, his mind kind of boggles. Yoruichi tells him he has to transfer Kurosaki to a new psychiatrist immediately. That he needs to play it cool with this guy and convince him that someone like Ukitake is better qualified for this kind of case. She thinks Uryuu should also probably apologize without admitting to anything specific.

Uryuu's stomach clenches at the mere thought of never seeing Kurosaki again. On the other hand, she may actually be right. Ukitake is an excellent psychiatrist with several decades of experience working with and curing DID cases. Maybe Kurosaki would be better off with his colleague.

Yet, Zangetsu's firm assertion that Uryuu is the only one who can truly repair Kurosaki's fragmented psyche resonates within him. He considers the damage abandonment could create in such a critical time, the repercussions such a change could have later. Yoruichi is one hundred percent correct about one thing, though. Uryuu needs to get it together and keep his personal feelings in check no matter what he decides.

"Thank you, Yoruichi-san. I will take your advice into consideration when making any decisions on this subject."

With a dubious stare, she shrugs and changes the topic.