Author's Note: Sorry this took a day or two more than intended. My muse was not being so complacent for this particular chapter, and I had to beat it into submission. Hopefully, that doesn't happen often, ne?

Ichigo's shoulders slumped as he sighed in relief the moment he was standing outdoors. The fresh air was already doing its magic.

He breathed in and out deeply a few times. It was a beautiful night for a walk.

His night continued to be peaceful for all but ten minutes, at which point an odd sight greeted him in the form of a man in a cloak started running right at him. The exact same man he'd seen in the alley, in fact.

"Quickly, take this!"

Ichigo didn't even have time to protest as a small object was placed into his hand. The cloaked stranger was already running away down the street. Without bothering to look at it, Ichigo pocketed the item and took off after the stranger.

It wasn't an easy task, catching up with the guy. Whoever he was, he was fast. As in extremely fast. Perhaps inhumanly so.

Try as he did to keep up with the stranger, Ichigo soon lost him. He leaned back against a wall, hands on his knees as he panted for breath. He wasn't there for long before he felt a strong force push him up against a wall.

A man with piercing blue eyes and flashy hair of practically the same color was before him. A quick glance downward revealed that what was pinning Ichigo by the throat was the back of the man's fist. The gleam of metal caught his eye. The blue-haired man was wearing bladed knuckle dusters.

Ichigo couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine at the thought that he had one of those pressed against his throat currently. They definitely looked like they could do a number on someone.

"Look, sunshine, here's the deal," the man growled, warm breath wafting over Ichigo's face from how close he was. In another situation, such a detail could have been arousing. In this one, it was simply terrifying. "You're getting your nose a little too close to places it don't belong. If you want to keep that pretty little nose of yours on your pretty little face, you'll back off and never come here again. Understood?"

Ichigo, who hadn't caught the question, was still trying to process just what was going on. What had he gotten himself into? Was this guy part of the yakuza?

Blue dude didn't seem to like that. He growled and pressed harder against Ichigo's throat.

"I said, do you understand?!" the man demanded.

Ichigo nodded numbly. Satisfied, the man released him.

"Good, get your ass out of here. If I see you around these parts again, it won't be just a warning you'll be getting."

Ichigo shuddered at the promise behind the words. He had no doubts that this man meant business.

Normally, he wouldn't have been so complacent when someone tried to push him around. Then again, normally, people weren't able to sneak up on him and have a blade capable of taking his life so close to his throat in an instant.

He'd been ill prepared. Which was humiliating, to say the least.

Ichigo was quick to make himself scarce from the area he'd stumbled upon while chasing the cloaked stranger.

Speaking of the guy, it looked like he wouldn't be finding him tonight. However, they did run into each other twice in one day, so perhaps he'd get lucky. If so, he had many questions burning on the tip of his tongue, desperate for answers.

That stranger was just weird enough… Ichigo was certain he was somehow connected to the dreams.

The walk he'd intended to take in order to calm himself down had ended up merely giving him all the more questions and worries.

He was laying on his bed, not so much trying to sleep, but more for the sake of habit. His mind was racing with all the most recent events. Ichigo had never been so confused in his entire life. All these damnable confounded events were going to drive him mad.

Not only had he met a strange man who seemed to somehow know him, but that same man had given him some sort of object, then just up and ran off and vanished.

That was it! The thing the stranger gave him. It was still in his pocket.

Shoving his hand into his pocket, Ichigo procured the object and held it above his face. It was pearly white, shiny and round.

"A… marble?" his brow furrowed. All that hype for a marble then? "Lame."

Although, despite his disappointment at the underwhelming reveal of what the object was, Ichigo was reluctant to let the marble out of his sight. After a moment's consideration, he slid it back into his pocket.

Couldn't hurt to keep an eye on it, just in case.

By morning, Ichigo had gotten absolutely no sleep since his botched relaxing walk, and he was worse for wear for it. The only good that came of it was that he'd given up getting more rest long before the start of school, and as a result was already in the kitchen when Isshin attempted his routinely morning wakeup call ambush.

Ichigo mused in his half wakeful state that morning how the bloody hell his father could afford to replace the window every morning. He could hear his bedroom window shattering all the way downstairs, and even more easily heard were his father's usual shouts.

It took a while for his father to come down the stairs and startle in surprise when he saw Ichigo leaning against the kitchen counter, watching him tiredly.

"Oh," Isshin said, "there you are. Got a little worried when I noticed you weren't in your bed."

Ichigo blinked his dry eyes, rubbing at one of them as it itched terribly. He tried to suppress a yawn and failed miserably.

"Son, you look like death warmed over," Isshin commented, taking in the dark circles under his son's eyes, his messier than usual hair, and the slight paleness to his complexion.

"Thanks," Ichigo replied dryly, "I hadn't noticed. I'd been under the impression I only felt that way."

Isshin immediately recognized that his son wasn't in the mood for their usual daily banter. As such, he backed off with his hands up in surrender, "Sorry, sorry. I can tell you're not in the mood for nonsense today. My bad."

Ichigo narrowed his eyes, as if he might snap, but then sighed heavily and rubbed at his temples, "No, I'm sorry. I just… had a bad night is all."

"I can tell," Isshin replied as he operated the coffee maker. He spared a glance at his son, "Want to know my secret to bad mornings?"

Ichigo shrugged.

"A nice, big cup of joe. Trust me, it'll do you good."

"I guess," Ichigo muttered.

He took a seat at the table, laying his head down to rest it on the cool surface. It helped a little. He was so out of it that he nearly didn't noticed something was amiss in the kitchen. Nearly being the keyword. Ichigo sat up in his seat, watching his father bustling busily around the kitchen.

"Where's Yuzu and Karin?" he asked his father.

Isshin was pouring two cups of coffee, "Hm?" The question took a moment for him to register. He shook his head, "Oh, about that. Yuzu and Karin are both running fevers today. I'm keeping them home for the day. To be honest, I've got half a mind to keep you home too, with how you're looking this morning."

Ichigo declined with a firm shake of his head, "No. I'm just tired. Not sick. I'm going to school. Now give me that cup of coffee before I pass out in this chair."

Isshin chuckled softly, handing over the mug to Ichigo. Ichigo was quick to take a large gulp, then choked and gagged, nearly spitting it back out. It was a struggle to swallow the nasty black concoction.

"Ugh, what is this?"

"Coffee," Isshin replied crisply, "want milk and sugar with that?"

"Please."

School went slow and fast for him all at the same time. The first few classes whizzed by while the caffeine still buzzed through his system. The last classes were more of a slow crawl.

Later that day, Ichigo was walking down the street, going home from school. However, when he noticed a familiar figure in the crowd on the other side of the street, he jolted to a stop.

That was definitely him.

As soon as he noticed him, the man turned tail and ran down an alleyway. Ichigo gave chase.

This time, he was more prepared for how fast the stranger was, and somehow he was able to keep him in his sights. The chase went on until miraculously he had him backed into a corner.

As he drew nearer though, the man pulled something from within his cloak and threw it to the ground. There was a blinding white flash that robbed Ichigo of his vision.

He felt as the man brushed past him, making a run for it, and Ichigo whipped around. His vision was coming back in spots, which meant he was able to see the stranger making his getaway.

Ichigo panicked. He couldn't leave yet. This guy was the only connection Ichigo had! He was having strange dreams, and this cloaked stranger was the only hint there was. He needed to do something. Say something. Something that would buy him time. The only word he could think of was…

"Shiro!"

The cloaked figure stopped dead in his tracks.

"You're him, right?" Ichigo was desperate. He walked closer, trying to grab the man's shoulder to turn him around, "You're Shiro?"

The man shrugged him off, "I'm sorry, but I think you have me mistaken for someone else. I'm not who you think I am."

When he started to run, Ichigo panicked even more. "No! Please don't go!"

It was in that next moment that he realized he'd tackled the guy to the ground. It was an entirely spur of the moment decision, but there wasn't much that could be done for it now. Ichigo flipped the other over, making sure to restrain the man's arms with his knees, so he'd have a harder time getting away this time around.

He pulled down the hood of the cloak only to reveal a mask. One that resembled a fox.

Ichigo frowned and pulled the mask off. Then his eyes widened in shock as he gasped.

"See? I told ya. I'm not who ya think I am."

The stranger was definitely pale, but not nearly as pale as the Shiro from his dreams. The silvery hair that lay flat and manageable, as well as sky blue eyes were also nothing like Shiro.

"You're… you're not him…" Ichigo trailed off weakly.

He'd been so sure. It would have explained so much. Ichigo had been so convinced that this man was Shiro, and now he didn't know what to do. He'd made references about a past life. He'd insinuated that he knew more than he should. It seemed as if it would only be logical.

The man easily pushed Ichigo off. He picked up and dusted off his mask, pulling it back on, then turned to Ichigo, "I'm sorry that ya had your hopes pinned on me. Like I said, I'm not who ya think I am. My name is Ichimaru Gin."

"Oh…" Ichigo replied dumbly. Ichimaru Gin. Not Shiro. What had he been so worked up for?

Gin pulled his hood back up, "But don't lose hope just yet. I know where ya can find him."

"You do?!" Ichigo was standing in an instant. "Tell me! I think he may be the key to finding out what's up with these dreams."

"Dreams…?" Gin sounded confused. There was a pause. "Oh dear. Oh my. This is not good."

"Not good?" Ichigo asked. "What's not good?"

Gin crossed his arms, "Well, ya see, here's the thing. You and Shiro have been intertwined since practically the dawn of time. That ya can't even remember that now is…"

"Is what?"

"I'm not entirely sure myself. To my knowledge, it has never happened before."

The phrase 'back to square one' would be an overstatement, given the circumstance. Not only was the cloaked figure not Shiro (as Ichigo had initially assumed), but he now knew that there was something horribly wrong with him. God knew what.

Somehow, he was missing a vital part of his being; a part that should have remained with him for all eternity. The severity of the fact he was missing it was not lost on him. Even if he didn't understand quite what had gone wrong, or how that would affect him.

Obviously, Ichigo hadn't wanted to lose Gin, even if he wasn't who Ichigo had hoped he was. So he'd convinced the man to meet up with him on a later date. Hopefully, he'd then be able to press Gin for some real answers.

Until then, he had his home life and school work to focus on. Yuzu and Karin were still sick, and Ichigo had the feeling that whatever bug they'd caught, Isshin was getting it too. Slowly but surely.

He couldn't remember the last time his father had caught any illness at all. At this rate, he may very well catch it too. Which was truly the last thing he need to add to his current list of problems.

Regardless of how the scheme of things was developing, it was needless to say that Ichigo was exhausted. He had not been getting much sleep lately, let alone good sleep.

Thusly, it should have come as no surprise when he dozed off during class. A fact that was sorely resented by more than one of his teachers. If it wasn't for the bizarre exhaustion Ichigo was exhibiting, coupled with the recent sickly pallor his skin had taken, he may have already been reprimanded for his lack of diligence and complete disregard toward the importance of school.

The truth of the matter was that no person, teacher nor student, could deny that Kurosaki Ichigo looked decidedly… unwell.

Many people were actually concerned for Ichigo's wellbeing. None more so than some of his closest, most longtime friends. Chad and Orihime. They both watched him closely, and their worry only increased as Ichigo passed out during yet another lecture.

After the class had ended, they pulled Ichigo aside in the hallway.

"Ichigo, you're not looking so good," Orihime told him.

"Mm," Chad said in way of agreement, giving an affirmative nod.

Ichigo merely shrugged, "I've been having a rough few days. Nothing a good night's sleep won't fix." If I could actually get any, he mentally added.

Orihime's brow furrowed as she frowned, "Are you sure? You look ill," she held a hand up to his forehead before he could stop her. She gasped, "Ichigo, you have a fever!"

"I… huh? I guess I do," Ichigo noted dully. He hadn't noticed, but what else was new?

"You should go to the nurse right now," Orihime advised.

Ichigo scowled, "I'll just get my dad to look at me when I get home. No problem."

"No problem?" Orihime was getting uncharacteristically worked up. The frown had looked odd enough on her face, but now she was getting really cross with him. "You've got a fever, and it's not a small one either!"

"Yeah, but—"

Chad stepped in, placing a calm hand on Ichigo's shoulder, "Ichigo, this is not debatable," he said in that smooth voice of his.

Ichigo sighed as his shoulder slumped in resignation, "Yeah. You're right."

Everyone knew not to argue with Chad. He didn't often speak, as he was a man of very few words, but when he did choose to speak, people listened. This was one of those times.

Just to be safe, they still both accompanied Ichigo to the nurse's office.

When they arrived, the nurse took one look at Ichigo and popped a thermometer in his mouth. She pulled it out of his mouth the moment it started beeping, and as she read the numbers on the small screen, her eyebrows rose to meet her hairline.

"Why, this… this is…"

"What's wrong?" Ichigo asked warily.

"I'm going to have to call your father to come pick you up, Mr. Kurosaki. Sit. Now," she jabbed a finger toward a set by the wall. She gave Orihime and Chad a stern look, "And you two, don't you have a class to be getting to?"

"We wanted to make sure he got checked up," Orihime explained.

"And you did. Now shoo, you're taking up space," she ordered as she waved her hands at them.

The two gave Ichigo one last parting glance before reluctantly leaving.

Ichigo anxiously awaited a prognosis. He couldn't help but be nervous about the nurse's reaction, not to mention the way she seemed to sidestep his question. As she called Ichigo's father, he curiously listened in on the conversation.

"Ah, yes, is this Kurosaki Isshin, the father of Ichigo?" she asked, then paused. Her expression grew slightly grim. "This is Kotetsu Isane, the school nurse. I'm advising you to take your son to the emergency room immediately. He is currently running a fever of 40.5."

Ichigo gasped a sharp inhale of breath. He wasn't nearly as good with medical science as the school nurse or his father, but he did know that 40.5 was very bad. The point that a fever started causing brain damage was around 39 degrees.

That explained the nurse's urgency, at least.

He was so caught up in his thoughts and inner turmoil that he hadn't noticed Isane finish up the phone call.

She walked over to Ichigo, a look of concern on her face, "Your father will be here shortly. Do you want to lay down and rest until he gets here?"

"I don't really need…" Ichigo trailed off. A bed sounded rather nice, actually. "Okay," he said after a little hesitation.

Isane broadly gestured toward the bed.

Ichigo laid down in the bed. To his brief astonishment, he was out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow.

Ichigo visibly relaxed as all his preparation had come to an end. Finally, it would come to fruition, and he could be done with this farce. Soon, he could be together with Shiro and they could both forget any of this ever had to happen.

He would have to sacrifice his life, but it was a small price to pay for one such as he who could be reborn once more, and who had been reborn many times before. He just wished Shiro could understand that.

His partner had seen just as many lives (and consequently, deaths) as he had, linked as they were. It would seem the idea of ending his life prematurely of his own volition was where Shiro began to grow skittish.

It was of little consequence. He'd understand in due time. Then they could be happy together in the cliched fantasy the two of them had dreamed up of a happily ever after.

"Oh my, now this is a surprise."

Ichigo swiveled around. His eyes narrowed, his face twisting up in disgust, "You!"

"I see you remember me. Ah, but that is of little importance. You see, you have something that belongs to me," the figure held out a hand expectantly, "I kindly request that you return it without qualm."

"The Hogyoku belongs to no one! Begone from this holy place!" Ichigo demanded, making violent broad motions with his hands as he spoke to emphasize his point.

The figure remained, a calm smile set in place, "It looks like I'll have to correct you of your behavior. You have brought this upon yourself. Do not say I hadn't warned you."

"What are you doing?! Don't!"

"Just watch me."

"You can't!"

"Oh, but I can, and I will. This is goodbye… forever."

"No… don't. Don't! Stop! St—AAHHHHH!"

A loud and high, continuous beep sounded as the heart monitor hit flatline.

"The patient is going into cardiac arrest!"

"Get the defibrillator in here, now!"

.

.

.

"Clear!"

.

.

.

"Clear!"

.

.

.

"Stay with us, Ichigo, stay with us!"

.

.

.

"... time of death, approximately 9:45PM…"

"He was so young."

"Someone has to tell his father."

.

.

.

"... that's my son! That's my son you're carting away under that sheet! What are you doing, where are you taking him?! No! He's not dead! He's not— he can't— he… Ichigo!"

Author's Note: Let me know if I've made any mistakes, grammatical errors, have a glaring plot hole. The usual.

By the way, the nurse is using the Celsius scale. From what I've been informed, Japan uses Celsius, so I was trying to be accurate. The equivalent temperature for Ichigo in Fahrenheit would be roughly 105, maybe a tad higher. The temperature in Fahrenheit for brain damage is 103.

Well, until next time!