He heaved again, stomach convulsing in unpleasant twists as he did so. Sweat dripped steadily off strands of chocolate-colored hair, the pain shooting through his mind unnoticeable from his steady posture. Years of practice paid off well, but he knew even that wouldn't fool them forever. Sooner or later, someone was going to find out. And it didn't help matters as it got worse through each day.

Why won't you just give in? Things would be so much easier for both of us.

The voice grated and scraped at his skull, as if that very thing were trying to claw its way out. But he knew it had to be stopped; he had to keep it caged inside.

Just relax, and let me take over. Just let the pain go, and everything will feel much better.

He seethed, hacking up blood as his emerald eyes scrunched up in agony and concentration. It wouldn't be good to miss class. Though he did it often, for favor of sleeping in, even skipping breakfast seemed bad at this point. He hadn't eaten for Hades knows how long, and he needed the fuel. Even Hitsugaya, who ate rarely, had more than he. And it was beginning to take a toll on him. Even in the dark forest, the students seemed far too vulnerable, and he didn't want to take the risk.

The Shinigami were also having trouble, especially Hitsugaya and Kurosaki, but they made do with it, having sparring matches on the weekends a few miles away, and releasing bits of energy at a time throughout the day. Though he joined them often, it didn't help with this particular problem.

He needed to do something about it quickly.

It was Saturday, less than two weeks before the third task, and the Shinigami and Shouta all sat comfortably in the abandoned classroom. It had become the norm for them as a place to catch up on what has been happening in the school and the surrounding grounds. Every Wednesday and Saturday evening, either during or after dinner, they met.

"So Captain, about that trip?" Matsumoto asked, hope and excitement lighting up her eyes. Hitsugaya resisted the urge to plant his face into his hands.

"Matsumoto," He bit out, quietly seething. Those blasted twins had tried his patience several times already that day, and his Lieutenant seemed happy to whittle away at the rest. "The Hogmeades trip takes place in October. It had long past. And because of the Triwizard Tournament, it has not taken place. I have also personally spoken to Dumbledore, and he has taken out the trip also because of the increased hollow activity nearby due to the increased amount of students. We'll talk about this next year."

The room's warm temperature had steadily dropped during his explanation, and by the end of it, the thermometer read a wavering 20 degrees, still lowering considerably. (They had put it there for exactly this reason, since it would inevitably happen at some point in time.)

Matsumoto pouted, but otherwise did not say a word. Though she may have been used to these temperature swings by now, there were still many in the room that weren't.

"Anyways," Rukia began, interrupting them. "How's the investigations been going? I take it you're still reading that book?" She directed her attention towards Shouta, who nodded, pulling the aforementioned book out of his bag.

"Nothing note-worthy yet." He replied evenly.

"What about the whole situation with Moroak?" Kurosaki asks, putting in his two cents. Most of the group gives him a shrug, except for a certain dark-haired shinigami, who proceeds to pull out a rather lengthy looking novel.

"This should help. It was in the restricted section, under the label of 'Wizard Myths', but it goes into this Guardian that he's mentioned. I don't know how much of it is true and how much is actually fiction though." Rukia explained, everyone looking at the book.

It was an old book, with a dusty and well-worn scarlet cover. The gold leaf that once curved to create the fancy lettering of the title had been mostly chipped off, but the indentures still made the words readable. 'Dark Magicks' looped its way across the center of the cover, underneath in smaller imprints of lettering were the initials 'G.O.', which they presumed to be the author's. The state of the book was worse within. Multiple pages were torn, or smudged with stains, and the ink blurred so that it was barely legible. It appeared to have been handwritten, in some ancient text that went back to at least the conquests of Ancient Rome.

"Have you uncovered anything yet?" Hitsugaya asked, flipping through it for anything he might be able to decipher.

Rukia shook her head. "I haven't found a way to translate it yet."

"Have you tried a spell?"

The petite girl nodded. "I've asked about it, used various spells, combed through the entire library twice for a book with the translation, and I've even spoken with various teachers and the Headmaster. I've got nothing."

"At least you're thorough." Shouta grumbled, flipping through the book disinterestedly once it had been handed to him.

I can translate it for you.

He ignored this, but looked up at Rukia nonetheless. "Can I borrow this? I think my dad may have had a book on the language. If I can find it, I might be able to translate it."

Surprised, the other nodded, knowing how extensive the Izukai family's library was. "Go ahead." He thanked her with a polite smile, stashing it in his bag as he stood.

"I'm going to head back to the dorms, and try to get some reading done." No one questioned it, continuing their conversation.

"We'll fill you in later." Kurosaki called out to the brunette just as he closed the door.

Malfoy prattled on about something or another, Pansy Parkinson clinging to his arm and giggling, while Crabbe and Goyle listened loyally to the blond. The foreigners trudged behind the Slytherins, joined by the Golden Trio as they made their way to the great hall. Kurosaki made a silent impression of Malfoy to the others, sticking his nose in the air and strutting as if he were a supermodel. Ron, Harry, Matsumoto and Kurosaki all cracked up, causing Hermione to roll her eyes and for the Slytherins to look back at them in confusion.

Hitsugaya noticed Shouta lagging behind, looking paler than usual, and pointed it out to the others. "You alright, mate? You look awfully sick." Ron asked as they all stopped. The brunette seemed oblivious to their concern, staring dazedly somewhere as if he were lost in thought, until Kurosaki waved a hand in front of his face.

"Hey, are you okay?" Recognition in his eyes alerted them to his awareness, and he opened his mouth. However, as if not trusting himself to speak, simply shut it and nodded. Kurosaki put a hand to his forehead, only to have it pushed away.

"Just leave me alone." Shouta hissed, seeming to regain his composure as he turned away from them and the Hall, quickly walking back to the dormitories. The others were left bewildered at what was going on.

Any familiar faces had already disappeared from sight as he continued to rush back to the dungeons, head pounding. The hallways seemed emptier than they were moments ago as he stumbled down the halls, the ground spinning. The lack of both sleep and food was catching up to him, with the Tournament causing more stress than usual to add onto it.

His stuff clattered to the floor, a distant sound that barely registered in his mind. He felt light-headed, as he often did after reading a book without moving for too long, and the colors from the walls and the paintings blurred together. He distantly realized the feeling of falling forward, and of landing on something cold. But it all seemed other-worldly now, until the colors turned black. That was followed by an excruciating pain.