Push and Collide Chapter 2, a bleach fanfic

Part 2

AN: This is a sequel to the first part, written due to popular request. You guys wanted to know what happened after Uryuu assaulted Ichigo and made his weird feelings known, so here it is at last. I would recommend that you re-read the first part as a refresher, or certain scenes in part two might be confusing.

Additional warnings for angst and excessive violence (think Tarantino).

Theme songs: "Who Did That to You?" by John Legend and "Immortals" by Livesosa.

Blood.

Blood is everywhere. Staining Uryuu's clothes crimson, matting in his hair, and splashing onto the cold concrete roof of some empty high-rise building. The sour, metallic smell of it is cloying in the muggy night air, but the rainstorm overhead is quick to drown it out. Pressing a hand to his weeping side, Uryuu bites back a scream of white-hot agony as his broken rib is jarred. He doesn't have time to lament his physical state, not when his spirit is still being tracked by the one who did this to him.

Gathering the energy and concentration to use hirenkyaku is impossible at this point; it was all he could do to make a nonlethal landing on the top of this building. Now Uryuu must rely on old-fashioned running to put distance between him and his attacker. He shoots a hasty arrow at the door leading down from the roof and stumbles into the stairwell. Four floors down, his sodden shoes slip. Uryuu rolls down half a flight of stairs before sprawling onto the landing. Out of breath and trembling with pain, he gasps where he lies at an awkward angle.

Dim moonlight sifting through a high window provides the only source of light in the eerie space. More vital than seeing, though, is sensing the reiatsu pursuing his own. He struggles to push himself up as he feels it drawing nearer every second. Bracing unsteadily against the grey wall is as far as he gets before the footsteps echo from above. Uryuu clenches his jaw against the onslaught of mortal dread and throws himself into motion.

He leaves a morbid trail of red drops and sticky handprints smeared across the railing all the way down.

The ground floor entrance is a wide sheet of plate glass. Uryuu shatters it in a blinding blue flash without a second thought. The clear chips shower down to hit black marble tiles in a dazzling cascade of explosive sound. Shards crunch and fracture under his rushed steps as he darts out into the street. The erratic stomp of soles is eclipsed by the shush of pounding rain, the draw of his laboring lungs, and the roar of his skittish pulse in his ears.

If only he can make it to Urahara...

He is close, only a few blocks away, but deep down Uryuu already knows he won't make it. Since giving up is not in his nature, he rallies the will to continue. A quick glance behind reveals a racing shadow on his trail. Ignoring the trash can he knocks over in a sloppy turn, Uryuu darts down an alley and blinks water from his blurry eyes. The glasses he lost somewhere in the middle of town are no help clearing his vision now. If Kurosaki were here, maybe he would have seen the dead end ahead and warned Uryuu before he made such a costly mistake.

Kurosaki.

Confirming the looming obstacle of a high wall bisecting the long alleyway, Uryuu huffs a frustrated cry as he fires an arrow bent on blasting a hole straight through. The weakened gleam of it dims and fizzles out before it can so much as char a single brick. He used the last of his reserves back at the skyscraper. Undaunted, he takes a deep breath and summons atmospheric reishi to himself for another try. The pull of his bow is halted by a mocking laugh right behind him.

Uryuu doesn't have time to turn fully before he is being flung against the stone. He hits it so hard that his outstretched arm snaps on impact. A short yell is all he allows past gritted teeth. The shaky inhale he steals instantly punches back out of him as his enemy takes brutal hold of the broken wrist. The bones grind in a sadistically tight grip that wins another agonized shout. Crumpling into the mud, Uryuu's welling eyes finally snap upwards to meet those peering down.

Coal-smothered yellow glow with victorious glee.

"Caught ya!"

"Kurosa—Guh!"

The other hand strikes out to whip his head to the side before squeezing around his throat. Already low on blood and breath, Uryuu's vision begins to dim within seconds. The fingers he instinctively curled over that strangling arm fall limply to the muck at his side. A sinister, broad slash of a smile fills his narrowing perception.

In this endless moment, Uryuu vaguely wonders if this is it. Will he really be snuffed-out by his lover, covered in his own blood with stinging tears of betrayal slipping down his cheeks? No, it isn't the betrayal that hurts most. It's not the pain of so many fresh wounds. Nor the knowledge that he could have protected himself if he had truly mustered the intent to stop Kurosaki when this fight first began. The reason he spends his last precious seconds sobbing under the noxious glare of this creature is because...

This is all Uryuu's fault. And Kurosaki will never be able to forgive himself.

"What do you mean 'it was a one-off'?" Ichigo snaps, scowling because he really wasn't expecting it to be this complicated. Everything with Ishida is always so damn complicated.

"I should have known you would need supplementary elucidation," Ishida sighs with a haughty demeanor that he knows pisses Ichigo off every time. "Don't you remember last night when I said nothing has changed between us? That Urahara-san was responsible for my behavior and that it will never happen again now that his 'tonic' has worn off."

"I thought you were messing with me."

Rolling his eyes in irritation, Ishida shakes his head and moves to walk past him.

The boy has spent the entire day—after they just had full-on gay sex the night before—ignoring Ichigo, as promised, even going so far as to walk in the other direction when Ishida heard his name being called in the hall. Now, ambushing him on his way out of their last class, Ichigo uses the fact that Ishida hates to cause a scene to his advantage. The students making their way off school grounds are out of earshot of normal conversation, but they both know Ichigo could start yelling any minute.

He keeps looking for proof of what they did. The Hollow left plenty of marks on his own, not to mention a few Ichigo added himself. Even with his school uniform closed to the throat, Ishida should still be sporting all sorts of brash bruises and scratches. Nothing is visible. Those marks have been meticulously covered and that annoys Ichigo more than the cold shoulder.

He stops him with a grip that Ishida immediately shakes off with a furious glare.

"Never touch me again, Kurosaki. In fact, never speak to me again. Don't even think of me if you can help it." Opening his mouth to argue, Ichigo is silenced by an angry chopping motion. Ishida steps closer to hiss menacingly, "Shut up. I don't want to hear anything you have to say. Have you forgotten what I told you when we got back from Soul Society? We are enemies. We will always be enemies. One night's misguided actions won't change that. Now get the hell out of my way."

He shoves Ichigo against the lockers with a reverberant clang that draws every pair of eyes in the hall to them. Feeling some rage of his own surging up at this treatment, he straightens and raises his voice so each one of their curious classmates can hear.

"How do you expect me to just forget about you after I made you come?"

A stunned hush falls over the crowd. Ishida halts so suddenly his hair jerks forward with the momentum. A few tense seconds pass before he slowly turns, muscles quivering with wrath. He visibly reigns it all in and projects a disaffected air, tapping his glasses into place as he sardonically replies.

"Made me come to your dance recital, Kurosaki? Yes, that was quite an experience, wasn't it? I had no idea you were so interested in fine arts."

A few nervous chuckles scattered about the vicinity relieve some of the tension and motions resume. This time when Ichigo starts to respond, Ishida is already there. He closes the distance with militant strides and drags Ichigo into a vacant classroom, slamming the door behind them. After banging into a desk he is flung against, Ichigo rounds on him with fiery jibes.

"Yeah, that was a good comeback, Ishida, but you know I actually meant when you were in my bed, naked and so breathless all you could do was gasp my name." Approaching the glowering boy with a confidence born of familiarity, Ichigo gets right in his face. He watches Ishida's cheeks heat as he leans almost close enough to touch noses. "Have you ever been that turned-on in your life? Have you ever come that hard? Because I haven't. I keep thinking about you, Ishida. I can't stop myself and it's your fault. The way I see it, you should take responsibility."

Ishida punches him in the jaw. Reeling back from the suddenness of it more than the pain, he narrows his eyes at the boy in disbelief. That's when he notices his words have made a greater impact on Ishida than the punch he just received. Flinty-eyed and breathing hard, both hands are still balled into fists at his sides. He is simmering from the fire Ichigo started, well on his way to a boil.

"You have some nerve, Kurosaki. I should kill you where you stand."

"Then why don't you?" The boy's silence eggs him on. "Oh, that's right. Because you threw your powers away trying to take down a fucking captain."

As the last word is spoken Ishida bares his teeth and attacks. Ichigo is ready for him this time. They grapple and shove, sending furniture scraping in all directions. A tipped shelf dumps books onto the floor. A kicked trash can spews crumpled paper and tissues across the tiles. The teacher's wide desk groans under the force of Ishida slamming him on top of it, flinging pens, post-its, and folders over the edges.

Ichigo locks his legs around the boy's waist for leverage and grabs the first object his hands touch. It's a little plastic globe and it makes contact with Ishida's head with a hollow pak. Rather than deterring him, the blow sparks a snarl and Ishida slams him by the shoulders. Ichigo groans in discomfort as a marker digs into his spine. Then he dodges a textbook meant to brain him.

"Hold still so I can murder you," Ishida grits through his teeth. Now he is using a wooden meterstick to press against Ichigo's neck, startling them both when it snaps in half. "Fuck!"

He uses the split-second of an opening to throw Ishida off. Rebounding off the chalkboard, he grunts on impact and growls when Ichigo traps him against it. Aiming a knee at his crotch, Ishida curses again as he misses. Ichigo lets go of his arms in a flash of insight and reaches down to ensnare his legs instead. Threatened with banging his head on a backward fall, Ishida shouts and grabs his shoulders for stability.

The fight is put on pause while they marvel at this new situation. Even Ichigo is surprised the maneuver actually worked. More importantly, Ishida is still staring at him as if waiting for a sign. Stop? Go? Proceed with caution? The hot rush of his respiration through parted lips is sending mixed messages to Ichigo's subconscious. Ishida catches him watching his mouth and struggles against him in rebellion, so he pins the boy to the wall by his hips. Twin gasps resound.

"You still want me," Ichigo murmurs into his ear. "And I want you, too."

"Let me go, Kurosaki."

After a moment's consideration, he does. Ichigo lowers his legs and helps steady the boy before backing off a bit. He eyes Ishida warily, alert for an abrupt counterattack. Fixing skewed glasses, flattening rumpled clothing, and combing through mussed hair, he gazes just as cautiously at Ichigo. Seconds tick by but neither one moves. Then Ishida slams into him and Ichigo automatically lifts his arms to protect himself.

The warm, soft lips land on him like another blow and Ichigo gasps at the unexpected sensation. Ishida doesn't hesitate to fill the gap with an ardent tongue. That's all it takes for Ichigo's guard to come crashing down. He moans and curls a hand around the back of Ishida's long neck to bring him closer. They kiss like it is a battle, each vying for the upper hand, brimming with impulse and wild enthusiasm.

Ishida pulls away with a loud smack to push him roughly against the desk so he must lean against his elbows. Hooking arms under Ichigo's knees, he effectively takes control before reconnecting their mouths. Ichigo allows this because he can reach down to yank Ishida forward by his ass and connect their bodies. This time he gets to taste Ishida's low moan.

Again, he locks his legs around Ishida's waist, this time to feel the swelling length of him against his own. Ishida tears his slicked lips away and glares down at him with furrowed brow. His eyes close on the first firm snap of his hips. He bites and sucks at the taut skin of Ichigo's arching neck, bruising all sorts of marks on his way down. Ichigo tugs at his hair in retaliation even as he matches Ishida's insistent rhythm.

Blunt nails scrape at his sides through his shirts and Ichigo wishes they would shred through fabric to expose skin. He wants to touch Ishida everywhere all at once. Wants to taste him, to devour him whole. He wants to let Ishida rip him apart. When the urges grow too large, Ichigo breaks.

"Touch me, Ishida," he murmurs around heavy groans. "Just fucking touch me already."

The boy's pace stutters as air hisses out of him. His hands pop open both of their slacks in record time and he drags Ichigo's hand south in invitation. Those long, talented fingers close around Ichigo's cock and squeeze. His head hits the desk in relief. But Ishida is quick to remind him that this isn't a free ride: he has to work for his pleasure, too. So Ichigo leans up to grab the boy's jaw with one hand and his erection with the other. He pulls Ishida into a sloppy, biting kiss and fights to hold his hips still in spite of the pleasure.

Wound up as they are, the moment can't last. Ishida's free hand clenches into the front of Ichigo's shirt as his body starts to tense. The kiss is canceled in favor of breathing, but now Ichigo gets a close-up view of Ishida losing it right in front of him. Even with the late-afternoon sun slanting over them in a golden spotlight, his eyes are black with lust and trained on Ichigo. The yearning crease of his eyebrows deepens before smoothing out on a wavering cry.

He catches Ishida as he falls forward. The wet kisses he lazily mouths over Ichigo's collar bone seem so out of place in the wake of previous ferocity. Confusion doubles as the kisses continue down his chest. Then Ishida sinks to his knees and swallows him down. He barely has time to grip around the desk for dear life as he comes into that expert suction. Staggered by the power of it, Ichigo blinks up at the ceiling in astonishment. Slowly, Ishida rises into view as he stands, licking the corner of his mouth.

Ichigo groans at the sight.

Snatching a fistful of untucked shirt, he reels Ishida in for a final messy kiss until the boy pulls away. He looks Ichigo over thoughtfully as he revises his uniform. Ichigo still doesn't have the energy to bother with his. All he can do is ogle Ishida with bemused eyes and a rekindling desire to reach for him. Though the cold prophecy he delivers before leaving Ichigo alone in the empty school freezes him in place.

"We are going to regret this."

Uryuu stands under the wide spray of his shower well after the water runs cold. The soft barrage of icy drops sluices unnoticed down his back as he stares between the brand new scar on his chest and the matching charm at his wrist. He keeps calling power to the silver star resting on his palm just to see its reassuring glow. Reiatsu swirls excitedly within him, rejoicing like a long-lost friend. The energy feels purer, stronger than before.

Oh, how he had missed this.

He thinks of the hours he spent agonizing over this choice the night his father found him—saved him from that pair of voracious Hollow—because the price seemed too steep at first. As soon as the words left Ryuuken's mouth, Uryuu knew what it would mean if he said yes. No more tag-alongs to the Kurosaki home for somber meetings. No more late-night Hollow-hunting teams. No more knowing looks exchanged in the middle of class at the otherworldly roar of an intruder.

No more kissing Kurosaki.

Considering he had already resolved never to do that again, despite the episode in the classroom last week, the decision should have been simple. Yet, he can't deny struggling with some turmoil. To say they left a few things unfinished between them would be an understatement. It is undeniably Uryuu's fault for declaring them enemies right before vigorously jumping Kurosaki in a public place.

Maybe it was Kurosaki's fault for getting him so riled up he couldn't think straight anymore. Reminding Uryuu of how intense it was to be with him like that. The lewd things the boy said still haunt him. It is almost like Kurosaki already knows what to say, knows exactly how to touch him to make him lose control.

Uryuu's next breath hisses out of him as cold water runs over a certain awakening part of his body. He twists off the flow with a vicious snap of his wrist and steps out of the tub. Scrubbing the towel roughly over his skin, Uryuu frowns at himself for falling back into this line of thinking. Why can't he just leave it alone? Why is it so hard to forget about Kurosaki?

"Ishida."

Probably because he won't leave Uryuu alone, either. He quickly pulls on his pajamas before ripping open his bathroom door and spotting the Shinigami perched on his windowsill. The usual flicker of anger and attraction swiftly heats his cooled skin.

"What the fuck are you doing in my apartment, Kurosaki?"

"Okay, before you freak out," he prompts with palms and eyebrows raised, "You haven't been to school in days and you won't answer your phone. How else can I talk to you?"

"You don't need to talk to me. Get out!"

Kurosaki stands as Uryuu approaches with clear intent to shove him through the open window. The thick fabric of his shihakusho flutters in a heavy breeze. It carries the boy's scent to Uryuu and tousles his damp hair. He ignores all of it in favor of carrying out his original plan, but something devastating stops him right before he collides with Kurosaki.

His reiatsu. Uryuu can feel his reiatsu so clearly it almost stings. Tracing all around him through the air, teasing at his flesh and seeping inside. It is as though he had only seen the sun from underwater and now Uryuu has finally breached the surface at last. The radiant warmth of it shines into his very soul. He has never felt anything so dangerously invigorating.

"Ishida?" he anxiously questions at his abrupt silence. "What—Ishida!"

He falls. Collapsing into Kurosaki's arms and floundering in a startling wash of that reiatsu. Why is it having such a strong effect on him? Uryuu has obviously sensed it before and it doesn't seem too different from what he remembered. Best guess is the answer lies with his own reinstated powers. Something about having them back has enhanced his senses?

In that case, why didn't the same thing happen when Urahara visited him in the training room of the hospital?

"'M fine," mumbles Uryuu against the boy's chest. His heart is racing and his limbs feel weak, but he can tell he is already adjusting to the efflux. "I'm okay. You can let me go."

"You sure?"

Nodding, he steps backward and plops onto the edge of his bed. Uryuu pushes clinging strands from his face and forces his breathing to even out. Kurosaki eyes him uncertainly but keeps his mouth shut.

"Why are you here, Kurosaki?"

"Before that, what the hell just happened? Since when does the sight of me make you faint? Should I call someone? I'll carry you to the hospital."

"Calm down," he snaps with his usual glare. The harsh tone alleviates some of Kurosaki's worry. "I just came from the hospital and I refuse to go back anytime soon."

"Huh? Why were you—"

"It's a long story. Never mind that. Why are you here, Kurosaki?"

Pursing his lips on an irritated stare, Kurosaki reluctantly drops the topic. He knows precisely how stubborn Uryuu can be when he tries.

"You heard about Inoue? She's missing."

"Yes. And?"

"'And'?" Kurosaki scowls at that but doesn't press the issue. "Well, I'm going to find her and bring her back. Obviously. I want you to come with me."

"How did you know...?"

"What, about your powers? I felt it, Ishida." He smiles at Uryuu's dumbfounded expression. Number one at being oblivious and he actually noticed something? "Couldn't miss it. I was in the middle of training to master my Hollow and almost got my head cut off because of it."

"The training room was supposed to be shielded," Uryuu mutters more to himself. "How could you possibly...?"

Kurosaki shrugs. Uryuu tenses up when the boy walks over to sit beside him on the narrow mattress, but he doesn't try anything. Instead, the intensity of Kurosaki's gaze keeps him from scooting further away on principle.

"So, whaddya say?"

"Pass."

"P-" For a few seconds, he can't even get through the first syllable. "Pass? What the fuck do you mean 'pass'? This is Inoue we're talking about! You don't get to say 'pass'! What are you thinking?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

"Is this about what happened at school last week?"

"No."

"Because I think rescuing Inoue is a little more important than—"

"Of course Inoue-san is more important," he barks and pushes to a stand. Uryuu paces as his frustration reaches alarming proportions, flooding over the dam Kurosaki keeps mindlessly chipping away at. "Cheese is more important than that."

"Cheese?"

"Shut up."

Kurosaki sighs. "Okay, if it's not about us then why won't you go?"

"Are you truly so unused to rejection that you are unable to accept it? I'm telling you I can't go with you. The reason doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!" he cries while surging to his feet. Kurosaki stops his pacing by grabbing onto his shoulders. "It's not like I'm asking you on a stupid date, Ishida. This is serious! Inoue could be hurt, or worse."

Mentioning a date in this context seems too surreal. A dazzling kaleidoscope of images spins in his mind's eye. Kurosaki laughing into a foamy latte as Uryuu makes a pun across from him in a cafe. Tentatively touching hands in a dark movie theatre. Spread out across Uryuu's bed while studying together. Harmlessly quibbling about whose turn it is to pay for dinner. Unafraid to show open affection, sure of its reception.

Offering selfless support when cruel events like this disrupt their lives.

It's not like they have talked about anything like that. Or anything at all. It hasn't occurred to Uryuu to want more, something beyond erratic physical confrontations. Now, looking into Kurosaki's eyes gone solemn with entreaty, he wonders. Is it even feasible for them? Wouldn't they just kill each other? Would Kurosaki want to try?

It's too late. Uryuu already made his choice and he is not one to break his word.

"I can't help you, so go," he says and jerks out of Kurosaki's hold.

"Why do you keep saying you 'can't'? Is there something wrong with your powers? If anything, your reiatsu feels—"

"Can't, won't, either way you can count me out. I will find my own way to help Inoue-san."

Even though Urahara stated that Kurosaki is going against Seireitei by rescuing her, thereby creating a kind of loophole due to lack of official Shinigami association, Uryuu still hasn't decided whether or not he should go on his own and avoid Kurosaki altogether. The idea of leaving him to fight his way through unknown territory unaccompanied doesn't sit well with Uryuu, but it might be the best option. Besides, he is fairly certain Kurosaki's other friends won't let him go alone.

Yet, he can't explain all of that to Kurosaki in a way he will be able to acknowledge. At least not without admitting he technically agreed to forfeit all future contact with the boy to regain access to his lost abilities. Uryuu doesn't know how well that bit of information would be taken under the circumstances.

"Ishida, why do you have to be so fucking stubborn?" he growls. His reiatsu lashes out with his emotions, snatching Uryuu's breath away again. "Do you hate me that much?"

To Kurosaki, it's a frivolous expression of aggravation, but to Uryuu it is an opportunity.

"Yes." The burn of brown eyes into blue almost ruins his resolve. "Yes, I hate you that much and more."

"Quit messing around," he demands with an edge of hurt.

"I'm dead-serious, Kurosaki. I despise you. How many times have I said it?" Rallying every last shred of anger he has ever had towards the boy, Uryuu explodes. "I hate how you can never take 'no' for an answer. The fact that anything I say to you gets warped into what you want to hear. How you think you have the right to touch me whenever you feel like it. That stupid look on your face right now. I loathe everything about you. You are the bane of my existence, Kurosaki! You are the reason I suffer."

The tirade leaves him flushed and breathless. Kurosaki's roiling reiatsu isn't helping, either. He stares at Ishida like he just transformed into the Kraken before his eyes.

"Is that really how you feel?"

"Yes," Uryuu confirms before his question is even finished, "It is."

They stand off for a long moment. When Kurosaki suddenly turns and walks away from him, Uryuu could swear he thinks he sees...

III

Two days later, Ichigo is still fuming.

He doesn't understand why they have to fight every single time they see each other. Even when Ichigo is actively trying to be nice and keep his temper under wraps, Ishida finds a way to unravel it. Going to his apartment was a mistake: of course invading his personal space unannounced would put the boy on edge. Add that to the fact that he was there to ask a favor and you have a recipe for one pissed-off Quincy.

Still, he really wasn't expecting that.

Not only did he refuse to help find Inoue, he shot verbal arrow after arrow until Ichigo's chest felt riddled with them. They have had their share of ups and downs, but this is too much. The way Ishida had snarled and sneered at him like Ichigo was the gum sticking to his shoe clenches around his heart. It has since been all he can think about.

Now his inner Hollow is even using the confusion to get a foothold against him, hindering his progress.

"What're ya doin', kid?" Shinji yells from below, "Hiyori's gonna knock your block off!"

"Eh?"

Ichigo looks up just in time to dodge a strike from the lethal blonde. Immune to his private plight, she swipes at his neck and narrowly misses carving into his windpipe. The Hollow's high-pitched sniggering echoes in his mind. Ichigo draws on its power and cringes at the harsh drag of its resistance. Just as he thinks his mask is solidly in place and he lifts his sword to parry Hiyori's blow, it bursts into ash.

She crashes against his unsupplemented bankai with apathetic abandon. Ichigo goes careening into the ground to shatter a pile of boulders. When he doesn't pop right up as usual, she zips down to see why. Dust and pebbles coat his tattered, tapered jacket; Ichigo can't be bothered to brush it off. Hiyori takes one look at his pathetic expression and rolls her eyes at him.

"Come back after you find your balls," she snidely quips. "I can't fight such a pitiful wimp without barfing all over the place."

When her barbs fail to bait him, the rest of the Vizards exchange concerned glances. She passes Shinji on his way to stride over and stare down at Ichigo's morose form. Sighing, he lends a hand to help the boy up. Ichigo offers nothing and Shinji keeps his silence for a solid minute.

"What's eatin' ya this time?" Ichigo shakes his head minutely and Shinji scowls. "Ya can't expect ta master yer Hollow if yer mind's distracted. Get outta here until ya can stay focused."

"No, I can fight. I have to keep going!"

"Take a rest day. As y'are, yer useless. Open a doorway in the barrier, Hachi. Kensei, chuck 'im out."

"All right, all right," he grumps as the burly man approaches him with intent. "I'm going. But I'll be back tomorrow."

Of course he spends the rest of the evening brooding.

Taking the long way home, Ichigo kicks cans and scowls at passersby like the delinquent he never really was. The weather mirrors his dark mood with a spreading wall of black clouds overhead. He pulls his hood over his head and shoves his hands in his jeans pockets as it starts to sprinkle, but otherwise ignores it. Left alone with only his thoughts, it doesn't take much for them to steep inside him like bitter tea.

He thinks of that day Ishida saved his life after putting it in danger to begin with. How they bickered in Soul Society every single hour they were together, yet they never stopped watching each other's backs. Ichigo remembers the relief he felt when he saw Ishida again, alive and mostly unhurt. Although he didn't know then the boy had lost his powers in the melee.

Whether he wants to admit it or not, part of Ichigo still blames himself for that. He figures that might be why he felt the way he did when Ishida got them back. It was clear and piercing, like a ringing bell. Ichigo heard it resonate within himself as if it belonged there. Pausing on the sidewalk, he presses a hand to his chest at the memory. Rain patters harder and he tilts his head back to let it cool his face.

Then, as if answering his silent call, Ishida's reiatsu spikes nearby, just as a Hollow signature vanishes.

The urge to seek him out is strong. Ichigo rushes into his house and straight up the stairs. His family is already fast asleep at this late hour. As soon as he shuts his door, he reaches for the badge that rips his soul from his body. The latter plops onto his bed with a soggy squish. Maybe he should have changed out of his wet clothes first, but he is too antsy to care. He even leaves his window open as he jumps through it in Shinigami form.

Ichigo is going to settle things with Ishida tonight if it kills them.

A few minutes of shunpo get him within range. Ishida senses him long before he arrives in the middle of an empty park, but he doesn't flee. He stands his ground and faces Ichigo as he lands with small splashes under his sandals. His white battle uniform is nostalgic. Ichigo steps closer as the boy releases his spirit weapon in a bright blue blaze. His fist closes protectively over the swaying charm at his wrist.

He expects Ishida to start making demands. Ask why he is bothering him after he made himself clear last time. Order him to leave and never come near him again. Tear into him about how much he can't stand to be around Ichigo. Convince them both that this drama is a waste of time. But all he does is wait in quietude as the rain paints him grey.

The emotion swelling in Ichigo's breast compels him to step closer. Closer, until he can see the water catching in Ishida's eyelashes like clear sakura petals in outspread fingers. He searches the eyes they guard. Reads them for the abhorrence he pledges is there, but they are inscrutable as ever. Ichigo secretly wills him to stay just like this, a beautiful living statue that can never perish or turn away from him.

He lifts a hand to touch the alabaster curve of Ishida's jaw, but the boy counters his intention as though anticipating it. Head turned away, his eyes finally leave Ichigo's. This recession of scrutiny allows him the freedom to breathe deeper. Fire stirs in his belly and emboldens him to try again and take what he craves. Ishida's lips are cold and stiff. He pushes Ichigo back with a dismayed grunt while his spirit flares in welcome.

"Tell me the truth for once, Ishida," he begs with the tone of one forsaken. "Answer me honestly and I promise never to ask again: do you hate me?"

The vital question hangs foreboding in the humid air. Ishida shuts his eyes as if the words sting.

"You really can't give up, can you?"

"No. I can't. Not until I have your answer."

A shadow of sentiment crosses Ishida's face. He is quick to hide it, but Ichigo's gaze is too sharp on him to miss it.

"What am I to you, Kurosaki? Do I mean this much or are you merely using me as a convenient escape from your troubles?"

"Of course not! Why would you even think that?"

"Because you waited to care until I forced you to fuck me!" he screams, shoving Ichigo back with all the rage in his heart. All pretense of poise discarded, Ishida lets his distress shine through to his features as he strikes out with wrathful words. "There is no genuine affection between us. Have you even once asked yourself where your fixation stems from? Is it purely physical? Then find another toy to play with. That's all you were to me, Kurosaki. And now I have outgrown you."

Agony embeds in his core. He had no idea love could hurt this much.

It happens faster than Uryuu can track. One instant he is spewing as many lies as his tongue can carry and the next...

Kurosaki's reiatsu detonates in a voracious bankai that launches Uryuu across the park. He lands in a heap near a copse of trees and looks up in time to catch the blink of shunpo carrying Kurosaki to his side. The black sword swings down. An instinctual hirenkyaku prolongs his life a little.

He cries out a bold question and receives no answer. Uryuu already knows it. He has seen this before, though not quite as bloodthirsty. Kurosaki's Hollow is a whirlwind of violence eagerly bearing down and it is all he can do to evade, much less counterattack. The panic of imminent death shocks through Uryuu as he realizes he cannot win. Winning would entail using the powers he attained in spite of Kurosaki to heartlessly kill him. The notion of spilling Kurosaki's blood is antithetical to his very nature.

Uryuu would rather die.

That doesn't mean he is ready to let it happen. What will happen to Kurosaki once he awakens, splashed with Uryuu's blood with a corpse at his feet? He keeps this thought in mind as he dodges and dashes, blocks and buffers. The ground quakes as a black getsuga tenshou is charged and fired. It rips at the soft earth and carves out a fresh riverbed. A lightning strike illuminates the terrifying vision of Kurosaki's feral side.

Uryuu runs. What else can he do? Battalions of blue arrows are sent to slow his pursuer. The Hollow easily slices them all aside and follows him towards towers of dark glass and stone. He catches Uryuu mid-air, skewering him like an angry hornet. The blade cuts shallowly into his side only because the creature loves to play with its prey. Uryuu's shout of anguish curls a pleased smile into its borrowed face.

His sword slides out gently, taking a half liter of blood with it. Then he spins to kick hard against the wound and Uryuu hears the crack of bone before he feels it ignite in his side. His body jettisons through a high window and collects scratches from the resulting hail of broken glass. Coughing in the plume of disturbed dust is agony but he can't stop.

Hasty skips through space put distance between them. The frisson of tainted reiatsu looms, and it kick-starts his heart like his worst nightmare. He begins to shoot blindly, frantically in the hopes of earning just one more second. Just one more second to breathe and rest and think. But the biting wave of energy comes sailing towards him in the storm's gloom. It wings him, stealing his balance and sending him spiraling towards an unyielding roof.

As it begins to dawn on him that this might really be his final fight, Uryuu faces his darkest demons.

An eternity and an instant later, Kurosaki's Hollow has him trapped in the alley. Uryuu's broken arm and fragile throat in hand, it bares teeth in a primeval aggression. He feels his life slipping like so many drops of liquid coursing serenely over his skin, pulsing thickly out of his wounds, and leaking warmly from his eyes. His remaining thoughts distilling into a draining solution until only one remains.

The abused jumble of his vocal cords is numbing from the pressure of merciless fingers but he uses them anyway.

"'M sry, Krs-aki," he gurgles with the very last of his breath.

The Hollow's eyes widen before narrowing in fury, "What?"

Pressure recedes just enough for Uryuu to suck in a shallow breath.

"I'm sorry," Uryuu repeats, urging his vision to focus so he can see Kurosaki's face one more time. "I'm sorry, Kurosaki."

"Shut up!"

He bangs Uryuu's head against the wall but doesn't tighten his grip again. Uryuu takes another wheezing breath and winces at the strain of it. This time he opens his watery eyes and locks onto Kurosaki's on the first try. His words come halting and painful, but he forces them through.

"For your Hollow to...do this to me, I must have...hurt you so much. I'm so sorry."

"I said shut up!" shrieks the Hollow with another half-hearted shove against the bricks. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

"I f-forgive you," Uryuu chokes, swallowing blood and tears. The garbled phrase stuns the Hollow, rigid and staring. "I forgive you."

The monster howls and retracts his hands as if burned. Uryuu slumps against the wall and fights to stay conscious. It takes half a dozen seconds to muster the Sisyphean effort to lift his head, but when he does Kurosaki is looking back at him. Confusion gives way to horror, then sorrow. Those soft brown eyes fill and run over as Kurosaki drops to hands and knees.

"Ishida? My God, what have I done? What have I—"

"It's okay, Kurosaki," he automatically shushes him. "You're back. You're okay."

A wave of dizziness threatens to sweep him away, but Uryuu rides it out. His unbroken arm reaches out and Kurosaki takes his offered hand. He nuzzles into the palm and murmurs tormented apologies, so many apologies. Uryuu pulls him closer until their foreheads meet and he can wrap his arm around Kurosaki's shaking shoulders. The boy lifts a trembling hand to ghost over his injuries, giving a miserable groan at the sight.

"How could I do this to you?"

"You didn't," Uryuu claims with conviction. "It wasn't you, Kurosaki. It was my fault, I should have told you—"

"How can you forgive me?" Kurosaki leans back to meet his eyes. "I don't deserve it."

"I should have told you that I love you."

The hurriedly-spoken words bear the cadence of a dream to Ichigo. Ishida's chin dipping to rest on his chest snaps him out of it.

"Ishida? Wake up," he pleads, wanting to touch him but too afraid of doing more damage. There is so much blood and water that he can't be sure where his injuries lie. He can't tell if Ishida is even breathing. "No, no, no, no, please wake up! Ishida? Don't do this to me...Ishida!"

A spiritual flicker alerts him to a new arrival. Ichigo turns to see Shinji approaching him. Witnessing Ichigo's severely distraught expression, Shinji narrows his eyes in trepidation.

"We felt yer Hollow clear across town. What happened?"

"Ishida is...I-I did this," stammers Ichigo past his heart swelling in his throat. "He's not—I don't think he's breath—"

"Pick him up. We'll take him to Hachi," Shinji orders as he begins to understand the gravity of what he is seeing. "Calm down, kid, he's still alive but not for long if ya don't get it together."

As far as he knows, Shinji hasn't led him astray yet so he has no reason to argue. Besides, he has seen enough of Hachi's abilities to know he would be better at healing than Urahara, especially since Inoue is gone. He looks at Ishida's limp form and considers how best to do this. The texture of cold, sticky fabric has him snatching his hand back with a guilty grimace. Ichigo tries again, wedging one arm behind his shoulders and the other under his legs. Ishida's limp head falls against his shoulder as he pushes upward. His limbs shiver as the reassuring tinge of Ishida's reiatsu responds to the contact.

"Just hold on, Ishida."

Maybe it's his imagination, but Ichigo thinks he hears an answering groan.

They race together across the chaotic night sky, displacing still-falling rain and dodging lightning bolts. His only concern is making it to the Vizard's lair in time. As soon as they get there, Shinji starts issuing commands and Hachi summons a golden cube around them before Ichigo finishes laying him on the mat Love rolls out in a corner of the dark warehouse. It's just as well because he's not about to leave Ishida's side. He takes the boy's tepid hand and gently squeezes.

"What happened?" whispers Rose. "Isn't that the Quincy boy?"

"Drop it," Shinji grunts. To Hachi, he asks, "What's the verdict?"

The solemn man lifts wary eyes to Ichigo before replying. "He has lost quite a bit of blood and used up a lot of reiatsu, but his spirit is strong. I believe he has a chance."

His blunt prognosis seems to echo in the cavernous space for minutes after it is spoken. Ichigo clenches his jaw as he sets his forehead to the back of Ishida's hand. The Vizard's intricate energies nourish and mix with Ishida's depleted soul to encourage restoration. Ichigo can feel it fluctuating beneath the skin.

"This is going to take a while," Lisa sighs, dropping her folded arms in resignation. "I'll go buy snacks."

"Green tea." The unexpected rasp of Ichigo's voice hushes the entire group. "Ishida likes those cans of sweetened green tea."

"Sure," agrees Love when no one else responds. "We'll be sure to get some. Come on, Lisa."

One by one, the Vizards find something else to do, lending him privacy. Even Hachi closes his eyes and lowers his head in concentration. The minutes begin to crawl by, slower with every second. Thirty. Sixty. Ninety. Ichigo remains rooted in place. He glances at Hachi at one point and sees a fine sweat rolling down the man's temples. Inoue would probably have just as much trouble with this extent of damage. It is a testament to Ishida's endurance that he was able to keep going in spite of it.

Nearly three hours later, Ishida stirs.

His eyes open, unfocused by clear, and Ichigo makes a mental note to replace the boy's lost glasses. He would hate to deprive him of his favorite nervous tick: tapping them back into place. Ichigo's heart starts hammering against his chest the instant those eyes land on him. Ishida takes a breath and coughs when it agitates his sore throat. Reaching for the waiting tea drink, Ichigo pops the tab and helps lift Ishida's head to let him sip it. The soothing liquid seems to help.

"Kurosaki?" he finally whispers.

"Yeah, it's me, Ishida. How do you feel?"

A weary wince is his answer. He moves to sit up but gasps when it pulls at his sealing abdominal laceration. Ishida gingerly prods fingertips over it and Ichigo cringes in sympathy. Sense-memory of stabbing into the boy has him turning his head away in shame. That's when he notices the whole group has wandered back over to check in.

"Kurosaki," tries Ishida as he sees the Vizards, too, "Who are these people? Where have you taken me?"

"They're friends...sort of. We're safe here. I'll explain later if you want to hear the full story." Addressing the curious spectators, Ichigo requests, "Do you guys mind giving us some space?"

They disperse with varying levels of irritation at the dismissal. Only Hachi dutifully stays put, keeping the barrier active since Ishida is not yet fully-healed. Ichigo suspects he is too immersed in the task, however, to discern much of what they're saying. Ishida may be talking and moving around a little but he is far from back to full strength. In emphasis of this fact, he stops trying to sit upright and lies back with a controlled exhale.

"How long have I been out?" Ishida asks him with closed eyes and furrowed brow.

"Couple hours. We got you here pretty fast."

"I didn't think anyone but Inoue-san had this kind of ability."

"It's not the same," Ichigo tells him with a glance at the barrier's shimmering walls. "This isn't time-reversal; you'll still have scars."

"Add them to the list."

His nonchalant attitude is making Ichigo anxious. Why isn't he talking about the fight? When is he going to say that it's Ichigo's fault? How will he cope with the consequences? He doesn't think he could handle it if Ishida were to take back the confession he made right before he passed out. After a few minutes of loaded silence, Ichigo can't bear it anymore.

"Ishida, I—"

"Now we are even."

The words don't make any sense. "Huh?"

"If you will be so kind as to recall as far as two weeks ago, I 'attacked' you first."

Ichigo stares, mouth working soundlessly, until Ishida deigns to peer up at him. He doesn't laugh at Ichigo's ridiculous expression.

"That—What!? How could that even be in the same galaxy as equal? Ishida, I almost murdered you!"

"If I choose to see the debt as paid, that is my prerogative and you have no say in that decision," he sternly states with a shrewd gaze. "You are already forgiven, Kurosaki. Deal with it."

Just like before, that phrase staggers him to his bones. He can't understand how Ishida offers his salvation so freely. The worst part is Ichigo can tell he truly means it. Ishida won't hold a grudge for any of it. Was he always this compassionate? All that feigned hatred when he was really feeling the opposite for Ichigo the whole time...

Now it makes sense.

"Yeah. Okay. I'll 'deal with it' as long as you accept the fact that you're stuck with me." Ishida's eyes flare in alarm at the implication. "No more acting like you can't stand me. No more avoiding me when I want to spend time with you. No more making up stupid excuses when I say I need you."

"Kurosaki, you—"

Ichigo leans closer and smoothes a hand over the side of Ishida's face. The fear and yearning he sees there only add to Ichigo's resolve.

"No more pretending, Ishida. That's my counter-offer: take it or leave it."

Waiting for some kind of definitive answer, Ichigo melts with relief when he catches it in the tiny nod Ishida finally gives. He rests his head lightly on Ishida's chest and just breathes. Now more than ever he has a reason to beat his Hollow into compliance. And if the bastard ever touches Ishida again...

Feather-light fingertips at his jaw line drag Ichigo from his brooding. Ishida guides him down for a brief kiss, the simplest meeting of lips. But to them it is everything they can't yet bring themselves to say.