delays, delays, delays. apologies.
Ichigo and his hollow
Window
Ichigo had wondered, for a while now, what it would be like if he had a window to see him. Just something, anything, to let him see into the fathomless creature the same way that he could see every part of Ichigo's self. The damned hollow liked it in there, he was sure, being able to read Ichigo's mind and screw with his thoughts and concentration enough to drive him half-mad with distraction a lot of the time. Ichigo would, although it was not a thing that he would admit out loud (after all, it would not quite fit in with his role as hero) to screw with his, in return, given a chance.
When he looked in the mirror, sometimes, he was convinced that he caught a flicker of white in his eyes, as if the hollow had just been there and had jumped out of sight before Ichigo's vision caught up. But then he would move his head again, and the reflection of the lights would cast a brief shine in his eyes, and he would have to accept that it was only that. Wasn't it?
But there was still something, wasn't there? Something in the way that his hands flexed sometimes in an action terrifyingly separate from anything he had control over; the ghost of a smile that would flicker over his mouth, like a thief in the night, that he hadn't intended. It was a taunt, a blatant mockery, and Ichigo hated it.
He woke to laughter echoing in his ears, sending shivers up his spine with the assured feeling of a forgotten nightmare, a nightmare of white white white white white white.
He would feel better about it, he thought, if he could know that the hollow had nightmares too.