TIN MAN

AN: Hey guys. I updated. It didn't take as long as last time, thankfully. Seems like I'm incapable of updating weekly. I'm too much of a perfectionist for that... Heh, sorry. Anyway, I want to thank you guys for all of the wonderful reviews. If I haven't replied to you, I'm terribly sorry... The stupid author just figured out how to do that... I'm still learning about the format and what not...

Seems this story's become pretty popular. I never imagined it would be quite so well received... I just wrote it because I got a random idea for a story... I do that all the time... I'm thrilled, though! You guys have made this sixteen-year-old girl very happy.

As for the layout, I know one of you guys asked for me to put more paragraph breaks in so it might be easier to read... but it made the story look choppy and the page go on forever... Sorry! I still am not a fan of fanfiction's layout system... I still prefer how this story looks in word. Much more readable... (I'm going to stop before I rant.) In any event, please enjoy the newest installation of Tin Man!

DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, own Bleach or any of its characters. If I did, there would be a lot of boy on boy action, more Ishihime love, and Byakuya wouldn't have a stick shoved up his ass. (Okay, make that several sticks.)

Chapter Four: Are you Happy Now?

All was peaceful in Ichigo's mind overnight and well into the morning, but it wasn't to say that things hadn't been hectic for a certain Hollow, who, truth be told, had his work cut out for him, that much was now certain. As Ichigo slumbered, blind to the perils within his own mind, his mirror image had fought frantically to maintain the stability that he held so dear, hour after hour. While this went on, Zangetsu, for whatever the reason, stood by and played the role of an apathetic bystander looking on at the turn of events. That apathetic eye could clearly see that the rift had grown. He could clearly see how the Hollow had paled (which he had formerly viewed as an impossible task), and then how the Hollow had quickly assessed the damage and came up with a crude but effective system of combating the cancerous wound above.

Shiro would start at the base of one of the sideways skyscrapers nearest to the imperfection, eyeing it darkly before inhaling and exhaling deeply, inverted irises narrowing ever so slightly before he would take off as fast as his legs could take him, much as a bird would take off in flight. Eye the goal… ready yourself… and go. Each bound grew in power and length… and at the end of the building, he would leap as far as he could, allowing his reitsu to flow freely as he neared it, clawed hands pulling the upholstery together as much as possible before he would plummet, landing in an undignified heap… and then it would start again.

Glare… Sprint… Jump… Pull… Crash… Repeat. Over and over, hour after hour, even after the sweat had nearly soaked him through. Yet, the dark garbed man made no motion to aid him, instead choosing to be a silent spectator, viewing it all in mild disdain.

Shiro couldn't see it, evidentially, but Zangetsu saw it perfectly clearly. With every attempt, the hollow would plummet and grunt only to stagger to his feet, returning from whence he came to try again… and for a couple of times, this seemed effective. Around the fifth or sixth time this was repeated, however, the seemingly endless sky just seemed to groan quietly, as if in protest of the administrations. The zanpakuto's eyes narrowed, not liking this new turn of events.

Yes, the man garbed in black had asked Shiro to fix the matter. Yes, he knew that the Horse was doing all he could for his King… and yet…

With a curse, Shiro landed again, pausing to look upwards at the imperfection, breathless. Mentally, he attempted to recall how long he had been doing this… but seeing as how time moved in odd, foreign ways within Ichigo's mind, there was no telling. There was no sun, nor a moon, to mark the days. The clouds passed overhead, but they were meaningless, as they were nothing more than a display of Ichigo's emotions. Nothing changed much within this world, other than emotions… and with Ichigo, that was frequent, but that didn't help Shirosaki in the least. After all, Ichigo went from happy to angry to depressed within the time span of a few minutes. Happy because things in his life were going well. Rukia and company would be safe, he'd be passing his classes, coping with the weird duties of a Soul Reaper. Next, was anger when something or someone came along to challenge that happy state, and ultimately, depressed when things didn't go well, an injury or death of someone to accompany that depression, deepening it until the sky sent rain tumbling down in sheets. Shiro liked his King's happiness, so long as it didn't go on so long as to render him forgotten. Anger, he loved. He could relate to anger. He couldn't feel it, but he understood the desire to harm others. Anger also kept Ichigo alive… It was the rain that bothered him. It drenched him, chilling him to the bone…

…and nothing he could do could stop that depression, usually. Ichigo wouldn't show up during that time frame. Hollow or not, Shiro wasn't capable of dragging his King into this realm to console him to stop the rain. During those times, he was forgotten, left to soak. Shirosaki refused to be forgotten.

So, he mended the sky. Ichigo would be upset to learn that the sky was messed up, right? That meant rain… Rain meant that Ichigo would mope. That meant he would be forgotten. Being remembered was all he had, really. If Ichigo failed to remember him, what was the point in living? He couldn't find someone else for company… and contrary to what he may or may not say, the Hollow needed to have a companion that wasn't Zangetsu. He couldn't antagonize the dark garbed man. Ichigo not only brought that entertainment, but… something else to the table. Something that Shiro needed… If Ichigo died, what would he do? Rot?

With that in mind, he kept working at the rift, leap after leap, thinking it through.

The sky was in trouble. He had to do something… but what? This was all he could think of. It seemed to help… but Zangetsu wasn't so sure.

Shiro didn't know that the sky groaned as the ministrations continued. Zangetsu could hear the soft rumble of the heavens, and he was positive it wasn't thunder. It sounded alien. What a foreign sound it was! It was a low rumble that sent reverberations down his spine, and through him, into the buildings below his feet. Thunder… wasn't this frightening. Thunder was Ichigo's anger, which saved the King every now and again. This… was a bad noise. It wasn't good. He knew it was so. Shiro didn't notice the noise at all, leaving Zangetsu to be very confused. It was… so obvious that something was wrong. Yet, the Hollow seemed deaf to it.

Why?

All Hichigo knew was that his entire body seemed to be screaming in defiance, each muscle wound tightly and screaming in agony. As he gazed heavenwards, he could only groan to himself as the sky seemed to twist and contort. What was once nothing more than a wrinkle had now formed into a longer, thicker tear, and as Shiro stared, the temporary fix seemed to be torn apart by some damned force, leaving him to swear profusely.

Nothing was working. No amount of force could hold that damned blasphemy together… and Ichigo would get upset. Damn.

Zangetsu watched on, exasperated, before eyeing his unorthodox companion, stating, "It isn't working."

Shiro gave him the darkest look he could muster, murmuring, "I know," before trying for the umpteenth time to fix this… leaving Zangetsu to watch on, weary but amused. The hollow was too tired to swear profusely at him. That was saying something.

It seemed that even as Ichigo's polar opposite, the pair did have something in common. They weren't ones for giving up, that was for sure…

Ichigo woke with a splitting headache, leaving him to groan in dismay. It literally felt like his head was being torn in half! (If he only knew.) Glaring at the open blinds of his window, the teen rolled over, swearing to himself as he burrowed his head under the pillows. This was so not fair. Not only had Shiro left him bewildered and confused last night, the Hollow was probably off destroying things in that cheerful way of his within Ichigo's realm, perfectly content and happy while Ichigo lay here, cursing and clinging to his aching head.

Vaguely, he tried to recall what it was he was supposed to do today. During the time where he was still adjusting to balancing life as a teenager in high school and a Soul Reaper, it had formed into a habit... and it was one of the only things that kept him from falling to the pressure. After all… his life was stressful. He was always in and out of class so much that he would miss assignments, miss due dates, miss events… especially the important ones like meeting his friends somewhere to do something trivial just because they wanted to be together. Those times were more important than any other, as they were numbered. There was no way to tell when a face would permanently leave their entourage, be it by death or distance. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't protect everyone. He would never always be there for them. Ichigo didn't know when he'd have to go slay a rampaging Hollow or… as much as he hated to admit it… when he would die. Ichigo could easily be killed at any time… by enemies…

…or his own reflection.

Ichigo had a hunch that he would die first. The odds were against him…

For one, his head wasn't exactly stable. He had an insane albino running through his mind breaking stuff for the fun of it. Hichigo had frequent, violent, mood-swings… and due to the fact that Ichigo was one of Hichigo's only companions, he was on the receiving end of the violent tendencies. They were less frequent now, for whatever the reason, but Ichigo knew he should still be wary. If that didn't do him in… He had to fight monsters that literally could bite his head off… He wouldn't live to old age. The Strawberry would have a heart attack before then due to all the stress. Ichigo was always stressed, always sticking his neck out for those who he had no business in saving… and he had to try to live like a normal teen too, which included homework, dating, taking care of his chores, making sure his sisters didn't get eaten, etcetera… (Okay, so the last one wasn't that normal, but hell, it mattered to him!)

Remembering things was important. He would kick the bucket sooner or later…

…and he didn't want to miss out on the time he had.

So, with a groan, Ichigo started to tally off the list of things that were supposed to be done, pausing as he couldn't think of any more. He knew he was forgetting something. He was supposed to do the dishes, do that essay due next week for English… but then what? It was important. He remembered that much.

Yet, it wouldn't come. Usually he had no problems with this task. It was something he depended on. It was like breathing to Ichigo… He could list everything, with no effort… but now he couldn't even do that. His head hurt far too much. All of his thoughts kept going back to it, then to Hichigo.

Damn Hollow. I bet he's having a field day in there. Breaking crap… Damn… I bet he broke something important this time… Ugh.

With a sigh, he slowly ventured from the safety of his bed, grimacing as he did so. Blood rushed to his head in an agonizing throb, pain radiating down his spine to his arms and legs. Vainly, he struggled to ignore the dull throbbing sensation. It shouldn't bother him. He'd had swords pierce him all the way through, jotting out from his shoulders, his chest… and yet…

…this was a whole different kind of pain. Faintly, he heard Yuzu yell for him. Probably to get to class… but her usually chipper voice sounded underwater, distant…

…broken.

Ichigo stumbled towards the door, tanned hands reaching out for anything to stabilize his shaking form. Somewhere, he could hear the distinct voice of Kon smarting off, only to quickly become concerned. Words slurred together. Nothing made sense now.

Yuzu's voice grew more frantic…

He was at the stairs… and was still standing. Inch by inch, he made his way down them… stopping about halfway down when a spell of dizziness took over, forcing him to pause and rest against the cool wall, silently marveling at how good it felt against his feverish skin.

Everything ached. Every single noise was akin to having his head beaten in with a blade, relentlessly cutting away at him, aftershocks travelling elsewhere. Any battle he'd ever faced was better than this. Anything was better than this.

Make it stop. No more. Just stop… Too much pain. Can't take this…

Inside Ichigo's mind, Shirosaki froze, pale face contorting as Ichigo's words spread through the world like fire. Effortlessly, those words ate him up. Burnt him, scalded him, pained him… and he wanted them to stop. Already, he could feel the buildings start to quake with fear, windowpanes shattering violently in response to Ichigo's pain. Glass shards threatened to assail him, but Hichigo did not move, swaying slightly to accommodate for the rocking of his world. Dark eyes glanced up at the rift, then around him, torn. He had to fix the problem…

…but…

…Ichigo was hurting. No, it was beyond hurting…

His King was being eaten away with excruciating pain… and Shirosaki, for the first time he could remember, had no way of combating it.

Physical pain caused by an assailant was easy to stop. Just a flick of the arm, and the opponent's head went rolling… and the pain would stop, slowly fading away. Emotional pain was trickier, as he didn't understand emotions very well. He tried to stop the rain… and usually succeeded somehow or another…

But this? This was neither here nor there.

For the first time in his existence, Hichigo was absolutely clueless as to make the hurt stop. He caused hurt all the time…

…but nothing like this.

The wound in Ichigo's head would have to wait. This was far, far worse.

Hichigo reached out towards the other, their minds linking. Ichigo's words were louder now, the syllables seeming to lick up his legs, burning. "…Hurts…"

The Hollow paused, thinking, before slowly replying. "Ya ain't bleedin'. And it ain't rainin'… but ya hurtin'? I don't understand." A soft noise of pain confirmed this, and, with a sigh the Hollow went on, "What d'ya want me t'do t'help?"

He received nothing but a strangled moan, another wave of pain taking over the horse's master. Speaking had become a chore for the orange-haired teen, leaving the reflection to grit his teeth. His King was deteriorating…

Shirosaki strengthened the link the best he could. It was something he had never done, and something he thought would never be necessary. After all, his King was strong, and capable of taking a beating, at least… he had been. Now, Shirosaki wasn't so sure. Due to this action, the link was stronger than it had ever been… and in strengthening the link… half of the pain Ichigo felt became Shirosaki's pain… and it burnt. Shirosaki winced slightly, only to shake his head, coping. This was Ichigo's burden. As his Horse, it was also his own. He couldn't have Ichigo dying yet. No. Ichigo was needed, although, Shirosaki was not quite sure exactly what it was he was needed for. Keeping him alive was a priority, and even if he didn't know the reasons behind this need for the other to live… He could act accordingly.

That meant getting Ichigo to rest while he tried to figure this out. "Kingy… get ya ass in bed. Ya family'll see ya if ya stand 'ere. Betcha don't want 'em askin' 'bout this…

Ichigo silently thanked him before turning to retreat back to his bed, able to move a little better now. His mind was still too hazy for him to understand what Shiro had done… or that the action had ever occurred. All that Ichigo could comprehend right now was that the pain had lessened.

The vibrantly haired teen was out like a light almost immediately upon coming into contact with his mattress, not bothering to crawl under the covers or to turn out the lights. He was worn out, completely dead to the world.

So he couldn't complain if he materialized again and watch over him, now, could he? The pale man sat at first on the edge of the bed, eyeing Ichigo warily for a few minutes, just to make sure he would stay out for the count for a while. The last thing he needed was a potentially ill fuming Ichigo getting on his case when he was actually trying to help for once. The sleeping teen didn't stir, leaving Shirosaki to sigh, his face now in his hands.

Shirosaki had failed. His King was hurt…

…and he had the creeping suspicion that he was to blame.

Inverted eyes opened, embittered, before they caught sight of the tell-tale stuffed animal in the corner, playing dead. At first, Shiro was amused by this, only to blink, perking up.

When he came in here for answers, he hadn't been able to get any from Kurosaki…

…but that wasn't to stop him from beating them out of Kon, who was with Ichigo more often than not, and who also was privy to the expressions and rants that were shared only on Ichigo's outside, right?

But as Shirosaki stood, about to grab the sorry piece of cloth, it stood, dashing into the closet, much to his annoyance…

Kon made his disapproval for the Hollow's antics known, swearing at him profusely from the closet. When that didn't faze him, clothes and other objects were thrown instead… and when a certain object that Ichigo had tossed aside yesterday nearly hit the Hollow, he snarled…

…only to blink, turning to face this strange item.

Ichigo had neglected to tuck the costume far enough out of sight… and now Shirosaki was kneeling before it, blinking in bewilderment. Lifting it carefully, the albino looked it over, purely bewildered. He had yet to notice Ichigo wearing this… thing. Surely he'd remember something that looked so weird, right? (Then again, by the Hollow's standards, everything Ichigo wore was off, but this was off by a whole new level.)

After a moment, Kon ventured from his hiding place, standing a safe distance away. "Huh? What the heck is that thing?"

"…I dunno…"

Seeing as how most, if not all, violent notions were gone, Kon ventured a little closer, voice raising slightly in realization. "I think… it's a scarecrow costume? Why does he have it? Ichigo's way too old to go trick-or-treating... Oh! Maybe he's a pedophile...?"

An awkward pause… before Shirosaki 'conveniently' chose to grab Kon with one hand, discarding the costume carelessly to the floor, much to Kon's horror. Shirosaki grinned to himself, chirping, "Ya wanna talk?"

Needless to say, that wasn't a very fruitful attempt either, seeing as how Kon was screaming bloody murder…

…but Ichigo slumbered on, despite the noise, his face contorting as he drifted into another dream.

In this dream, Ichigo was once again in Shirosaki's body, lying on the ground, staring onward… but all was dark. All source of light was gone, and the more Ichigo willed the body he was in to squint to see some form of light, the darker it became.

It was only then that he felt the warmth all around him, and as before, his lips moved on their own accord. "…happeh, now?" A bitter laugh shook him, sending pain radiating through his chest. "…Are ya happeh now? Did I do… alrigh'…?" The voice was too weak for his liking. It wavered too much… and it sounded garbled, as if something were stuck in the Hollow's throat, muffling the sound.

It was when his frame slowly moved that Ichigo realized that his voice wasn't the only weak thing. Moving was an effort… but somehow, one of his pale, shaking hands lifted into his line of sight, and immediately, Ichigo felt like vomiting.

Shirosaki's hands were stained with blood. Fresh blood, warm, warm blood… the same blood that Shirosaki was lying in… and the same blood blocking the Hollow's throat.

Inverted eyes strayed from it to the darkness, the Hollow fighting to make out something from the darkness. Seemingly getting an answer, the Hollow laughed, voice hoarse…

"Good…"

Ichigo watched in horror as that hand slowly fell…

…and hit the ground, dead.

Ichigo didn't wake. He was stuck in Shiro's corpse, feeling horrified and greatly saddened.

He would remain that way until he would wake hours later, dazed, scared, and confused, with nothing but a dull throbbing in his chest and a headache to assure him that he was alive…

…but it was Shirosaki he was worried about…

…and it would not be for several hours that he would wake, begging for answers.

And this time, neither one of them would settle down until they got the answers they were looking for.

A/N: There. Another chapter completed... I'll get to work on the next one soon, I swear. (It'll just take me forever to type it and get it to where I want it...) I wonder how many of you guys will pick up as to why the title is Tin Man? It won't follow the same plot... the title came after the story was started. It just seemed to fit. Anyway...

See you next chapter!