His hands were shaking. He gathered water in cupped palms and rinsed his face.

His hands were shaking. His chopsticks fumbled again on their way to his mouth.

His hands were shaking. He slipped them into his pockets as he passed through the automatic doors.

"This is for Hanada-san's medication." His signature stretched out its limbs, bent and broken.

"The patient is now prepped." He accepted the scalpel gently thrust into his line of sight.

His hands were shaking. He looked down at the area of skin he was hovering over. He realized something. He was shaken. "Call the surgeon on call," he mumbled as he discarded the scalpel on the instrument tray and fled from the room. All the medical professionals in the room looked on in shock.

"Doctor Ishida! Doctor Ishida! Where are you going?!" That was the wrong question.

He went to the bottom level lobby where people could wait for friends and family to be released. He couldn't think of another place to go. No one followed him all the way. Probably because no one wants a surgeon who can't kill his nerves. There was worked to be done. No time for flakes. No time for him. Not as he is now. No, no, no, no, no! What was he doing?! He was angry, but he could not bring himself to show it in this environment. He sat down in a chair next to no one else. He hung his head and laced his finger. They wouldn't stop shaking.

He had come here in a daze. He had done everything just like normal. This was normal?! What was he doing?! Why?! He was angry, but he was also confused. He hated the idea of being here, hated the idea of working here. A scalpel in his hand, how could he? If he hadn't left, would he have cut into that person's skin? And then what? How had he gotten through this routine like this? Had his senses grown dull until now? Had his emotions vanished? He was too angry for words and too confused to understand the reason for it. Was he angry at himself? His father? Probably both. …No, most definitely both.

He couldn't remember anything beyond himself. His mind was insulated, nothing new could get in. He sat there for ages. He felt a decade pass him by as he sat there, not keeping up. And he sat and sat and sat. His hands were still shaking. Would they never stop?


They were an unnaturally far distant apart. Rukia was the one to come up to him. Her sandaled feet with traditions socks appeared at the edge of his vision. For her, he looked up. She had a deep frown and furrowed brows when he saw her face. She bent her knees and leaned her hands on them so that her face was level with how hunched over he was.

"You're not the only one."

He couldn't process what she had said. His frown must have reached for a different set of emotions because Rukia's also shifted.

"Want to come with us?" she asked softly.

He looked from her to Ichigo still standing near the entrance. He too was frowning at the ground. "Kuchiki-san?"

Something flickered through her face and he knew he did something wrong.

She responded slowly, "Why don't you call me Rukia?"

He stared at her eyes wondering why she would ask him that. "No, I couldn't possibly do that," he looked down again.

That felt more like him than anything else Rukia had seen of him so far. "What if I also call you by your given name? That's a fair trade."

He stared at her feet, he wasn't even considering it. They were never that close. They hardly ever spoke directly to one another. It wasn't such a simple thing to call someone by their given name in Uryuu's culture. Perhaps Rukia realized that he would need more convincing, a compelling reason.

"We need all the allies we can get," she stated simply and tilted her head.

That was what made the first sentence she had spoken click. He sat up straight. "You've been experiencing something similar?"

She nodded to him.

"For how long?" he asked her, much clearer than he had been all day.

"Since the early morning hours for me. I think it's the same for Ichigo but it could have been earlier for him."

He separated his hands and let blood circulate through them. He bowed his head slightly so he wouldn't have to look at her. "Thank you… Rukia-san."

He was difficult for Rukia to understand. They were friends in name but that was more so because of their involvement with Ichigo. But she thought that perhaps he was thanking her for coming to find him, or maybe for offering a steadier hand, so to speak.

"Just Rukia." Whether he understood that that was her way of telling him 'you're welcome' or not didn't matter as long as she meant it. "Will you come with us?" she asked again.

He didn't need to ask where. If those two had stopped bickering long enough to get a move on, they were ready to start figuring things out. He stood and walked with her to the doors. She placed herself on the opposite side of him as Ichigo approached to fall in step. He thought he now understood the unnatural distance between them. It was intentional.

"Ishida, are you okay?"

Rukia glared at Ichigo from across Uryuu. "Call Uryuu, Uryuu," she insisted.

Ichigo was surprised to hear her say that. He looked between her and Uryuu for reactions. "That's between me and him," he decided.

Rukia dropped her glare and watched in front of them so she could direct their path instead. She knew that already.

"So?" Ichigo redirected his voice to Uryuu.

"Of course not, this is hell."

That was much more direct than either Ichigo or Rukia had expected. That wasn't what Ichigo would describe the feelings he had as. He and Rukia both realized that what Uryuu was feeling was different. They wouldn't be able to understand his feelings. Ichigo felt ill-equipped to handle his emotions. Suppose that friendship meant bearing all that the other couldn't. Would this work out?

"Uryuu?" Rukia chewed on a thought.

They both looked over at her.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to. Not ever," she stated with some force. "But sometimes people will need you to." Perhaps Rukia would make a good friend. But she was still being awfully presumptuous.

"You don't have to say anything right now. I already know."

"Sure, but you needed someone else to say it for you."

He humphed, "I'm not Kurosaki."

"Hmm," Rukia pretended to think about it. "I guess you're right."

Ichigo frowned again. This couldn't be good.


A/N: I feel a bit sad right now. Just before uploading this a guest reviewer told me the equivalent of that I should kill myself. I suppose this gives me the smallest glimpse at how someone like Kubo might feel, so it can't be all bad if I grow in understanding of other people. It's a bit funny though because that person completely misunderstood the purpose of this story. Oh well.

I'd like to give an extra thanks to Andrey258, Alternate, DheyL and Kenny5243 for being so kind to me. You each make me smile and I am so grateful. *bows*