Author's note: Valetudinarian (adj): having an undue amount of concern regarding one's health

Chapter Two: 'Valetudinarian'

If one were to briefly glance inside Ichigo Shiba's bedroom that night, they might not notice that anything was amiss.

Of course, any glance more than brief would quickly reveal a small lump in the covers lit dimly from inside, just barely showing the outline of the room's sole resident hunched over in an attempt to escape notice.

However there wasn't anyone else awake in the house at the moment, meaning that Ichigo's little midnight research project went completely unnoticed.

Underneath the white sheet it was just him and the illuminated screen of his phone, displaying the latest in a long line of thoroughly unhelpful forum discussions regarding his recent diagnosis. He'd long since drained every single Japanese search result dry, now on hour two of searching the English forum results for any detail or seed of hope, no matter how tiny.

A small ball of sputtering gold-tinged black light hung just next to his head, running on fumes from his own internal energy storage.

My doctor just told me I inherited a transformative blood curse. I'm in my early twenties, and they say it's too late to help me. Is there any other solutions people have found to make it stop?

Ichigo was holding out hope for a slightly off-beat, somewhat witchy solution that Unohana was professionally unwilling to tell him, or simply unaware of. He was willing to stand in a barrel of pig's entrails under a full moon if it came down to it.

If you inherited it and you're above the age of twelve, doctors always tell you there's nothing they can do about it. I tried some new-age remedies, even went to a few people with a healing ability, but all I managed to do was drag the pain out for longer. I honestly don't think there is anything that can stop it at your age.

The original forum question was three years old, and Ichigo couldn't help but think that the person that asked it would be fully transformed by now, strange and inhuman.

Yeah, I'd love to say the doctors are full of it when they say that but they really aren't. My brother was fourteen, and already there wasn't anything we could do but wait.

Letting a growl rise in his chest Ichigo hit the backspace, scrolling to the next half-helpful looking result, hoping for something that wasn't just a paraphrase of what everyone had been saying so far: There is nothing you can do to stop it.

You will always become the monster in the end.

This next site looked rather witchy, and he felt a spark of hope flare in his chest. Surely if there was any sort of off-beat fix this would be the sort of place he'd find it.

Many people come to me for consultation after discovering they possess a transformative blood curse. The reactions vary, but most of them are initially distraught and upset by this news. However, a transformative curse can be one of the most spiritually fulfilling experiences one can have in this life, feeling as their body changes shape into something other and distinct from humanity, the true manifestation of their soul—

Quickly Ichigo scrolled down, not wanting to read some spiritual kook wax poetic about how he should be grateful he lost the game of genetic roulette and accept losing his humanity. It went on for quite a while, but eventually he found something of more value within the waffle.

The experience of a transformative curse is unique to each individual blessed with it. While I cannot tell you exactly what it is you will experience during this wonderful time of metamorphosis, there are certain symptoms and orders of progression that seem to be fairly standard.

Technically he'd already read most of this in the pamphlets Unohana had given him, but he was running on desperation and was hoping that somewhere might have a secret nugget of information he'd previously missed. If he had to read the same six facts over and over again, well, so be it. Better to know exactly what kind misery he was in for, anyway.

Before any of the true transformation takes place there are several physical symptoms that represent your body preparing to undergo its change. A pervasive hunger is often considered the first true sign nearly all of the fortunate experience, beginning when it first becomes active and only diminishing some way into the process. It may be accompanied later by persistent headaches, bouts of nausea, and soreness recurring in the same parts of the body. This last usually can be used as an indicator of which places will transform. For example, those that experience lower back pain grow tails, sore feet can be a sign of a switch to digitigrade. At first, most people report these aches to be constantly changing; it is only after you enter the second stage of the blessing that they begin to migrate to the areas to be affected.

The second stage was the body preparing to transform, Ichigo had discovered. It promised lots of nausea and migraines, and several people had reported seeing small beginning changes at that point. He hoped the pills he'd started taking that evening would postpone that for as long as possible, but he knew it could only be so long. How long he had before the undeniable truth began setting in was both unknown and looming ever closer. But for the time being, he could tell himself the pills would make it all go away. That was nicer to think about, at least.

It is imperative to have a good support network during the second stage of transformation. Even good things have to be paid for with pain, and the ordeal can be stressful even for those who welcome it. Having people around you to provide support and care through the most difficult spells is vital to having a smooth transition. Even medicated the process is long and painful; I have witnessed too many stubborn people attempt to tough it out and try to cope with growing tails and muzzles on their own terms. Don't let your pride stop you from gathering those around you. It should be a celebrated time in your life.

The pamphlets had…well, glossed over some of the pain. Ichigo hadn't exactly been expecting it all to be a 'poof' transformation, life was never that easy, but the reinforcement of the agony that lay in wait for him that he'd read on a dozen different sites and forum posts was only serving to make him even more panicked. If the first stage was always the shorter of the two and he'd already spent at least month in it, it could be a matter of days until the little transformations began, accumulating until one day he'd look in the mirror and not recognize who was staring back.

With a groan of frustration Ichigo shut his phone off and let it slide into his bedsheets, falling backwards onto his pillow and staring blankly at the ceiling. Was he really going to grow a muzzle? The very idea made him sick to his stomach—but that might have just been the curse, eating away at his human insides to make way for new ones. A tail was only marginally better because of the true awful horror of a snout it was up against. He'd seen people on the streets with both before, the large amounts of pity he felt towards them with a couple of drops of revulsion mixed in for good measure. Never had the idea that he'd grow up to be one of them crossed his mind.

It was three in the morning, now, and his head was aching from lack of sleep and likely also, loathe as he was to admit it, from his incubating curse. He'd consumed so much information that he couldn't think of anything else, scenario after scenario based on accounts he knew were all too true running through his mind with no signs of stopping. Maybe he'd done a bit too much research, armed himself with far too many potential outcomes.

Even though he knew it wouldn't have any effect in the long run, he just wanted to ignore everything. Live his life like he always had until the changes became so severe that he couldn't deny it anymore.

Maybe, for now, that is the best course of action. Don't tell anyone, don't do any more research, because all that will do is freak me out more. Just take the meds Unohana gave me and try to go on with my life while I still can.

Feeling satisfied with his decision, Ichigo closed his eyes and tried to relax. He couldn't help thinking that soon enough he might not be able to lay like this on his back at all if he grew a tail and should enjoy it while it lasted. Would he grow a tail, or a muzzle, or both? What sort of hybrid would he even end up as when it was all done?

Somehow, he fell asleep.

Ichigo woke up the next morning with conviction, having made up his mind that if he just pretended the curse wasn't there it couldn't take effect. Sure, it was false hope and he knew it, but it made him feel better.

Otherwise he'd come up with a game plan of things he wanted—needed—to do before his human clock ran out.

First: look through his mother Masaki's old diaries to get any information possible. Maybe she'd never even had the curse at all and it came from someone further up the family line, but he had to be sure.

Two: Finally work up the courage to ask Uryū Ishida out. Ichigo had been beating around the bush on that one since they'd started high school, unsure how to broach the subject but unable to deny the severe crush he had on him. If he reached out now, and assuming Uryū said yes, they might be able to have at least a little time together before his life went to complete and utter shit.

Three: Aside from the two points mentioned above, proceed through life as he had been doing for the last year.

The curse had no power if he didn't let it.

He only had about two minutes in bed to finalize his course of action before the door flew open with Isshin's morning wake-up call.

"Good morning, Ichigo!"

Ichigo hadn't had a headache before, but he did now.

He could feel the increasing movement speed of his father as he began to lunge towards him for a fresh kick in the face, only having a few split seconds to draw enough power out from his core to reach his limbs, shooting him out of bed and almost into the closet door in his haste. Still he managed to stay upright, leaving Isshin to careen face-first into his pile of blankets.

"Getting real sick and tired of this shit, Dad." His head throbbed again, almost as if in agreement.

"Come on," he said as he extricated himself from the tangled coversheet, "I'm only trying to prepare you for the outside world."

"I thought that's what you were paying Shinji Hirako for," Ichigo remarked dryly, massaging his aching temple.

"Aw, you don't want to learn a lesson or two from your dear old dad?"

"Not if it involves being woken up by a kick to the face," Ichigo told him as he moved towards his haphazardly stacked schoolthings. "You're lucky I was already awake when you came rampaging in like an angry bull. I can't use my ability when I'm asleep."

"In order to face the world you need to able to use your ability at a split second's notice," Isshin reminded him. It was a speech he'd heard at least twice a week since the day he'd turned fourteen, and it had gotten more than a little hackneyed.

"If I have to face the world, I'd rather use an alarm clock," he said wryly as he pulled his shirt out of the pile by one arm, emerging a mess of wrinkles that he knew he would never bother to iron flat.

"An alarm clock doesn't give you an opportunity to practice."

"Who knows, maybe someday I'll figure out how to absorb soundwaves and learn to shut it up." Ichigo shrugged, now carrying an armload of his uniform. He often wondered what the extent of energy he could collect was, but his focus was still squarely on control and not experimentation so he hadn't been given the opportunity to find out. It didn't stop him from wishing he could, though.

"Anyway, could you please get out of my room so I don't have to change in front of my father? Much appreciated."

Isshin did oblige this request, even if it was with a fair amount of complaining; Ichigo firmly shut the door behind him and began to change.

As much as he'd resolved to put yesterday's appointment out of his mind, he couldn't help but think of how much longer he had in this familiar rhythm before his life was irrevocably broken. Would he even be able to properly wear most of his clothes? If he started growing a tail, would he have to cut a hole in all of his pants to accomodate it or simply try to jam it down one pantleg of his school uniform in a desperate attempt at normalcy? That would still be better than seeing his face turn into a snout, though. He couldn't imagine the horror at witnessing his face stretch out slowly and torturously until it lacked any semblance of humanity. Despite himself a shudder ran down his spine as he pulled his shirt on, feeling it gather and prickle just a tiny bit at his tailbone.

He hoped that part was just the work of an overactive imagination.

Once he was done he quietly eased open the door, smelling the pleasant aroma of rice and vegetables drifting up the stairs from the kitchen. He ducked into the bathroom, mostly just to keep his hair at its recommended daily concentration of hairspray, but found his eyes wandering to his reflection.

It was perfectly normal. Any outside eye with no medical data would assume he was the same he always was, if perhaps a bit sleep deprived; dark bags drifted under his eyes as a remnant of last night's research mission. His skin was the same as ever, mostly clear with a few lingering pubescent pimples lurking underneath his spiky teased fringe of red hair. His eyes were surprisingly alert, the same determined shade of amber they always had been. He looked perfectly human, or at least perfectly a gifted human.

Gripping the edge of the sink with one hand as another sharp stab of pain lanced through his head, Ichigo took a small water glass with the other and filled it halfway, washing down two of Unohana's small turquoise pills. He could almost fool himself that they would stop the curse completely, if he thought it hard enough.

Ichigo liked to tell himself that devouring second helpings at breakfast was just his growing body and not the curse, the ravenous hunger demanding quite a bit before it was fully satiated. Yuzu kept giving him slight glances over the table, perhaps wondering if she should berate him for lack of manners, but obviously deciding against it. A relief, because Ichigo wasn't in the mood for lectures. Even if he did eat the pickled vegetables on offer with such a voracious fervour he managed to spray vinegar down the front of his shirt. He didn't have enough time to change, though, so he had to pretend it wasn't there and hurry to make sure he wasn't late for school.

There hadn't been any plans for him to meet his friends on the walk to school that day anyway, meaning Ichigo had no benchmark for whether or not he was on time until he reached his destination, his friends standing just outside with impatient looks carved into their faces.

He hadn't been that late, had he?

"You're late, Ichigo," Uryū told him sternly, confirming his worst suspicions. He couldn't be too disappointed about it, though, because seeing him standing there with his arms crossed and mouth pressed into a thin disapproving line made his heart flutter a bit. No matter how much he told his heart to stop, it happened every morning and several times throughout the school day.

You promised yourself you'd bite the bullet and tell him how you feel before you turn into a freak, he reminded himself.

"I guess a little bit." He shrugged his bag higher up onto his shoulder. "Seeing as it's illegal for me to use my ability to speed myself up on the trip over, I really can only walk to school so fast."

His head was pounding from his walk-run, and without thinking he rubbed his temples.

"Ichigo, are you okay?" Rukia's brow creased in concern. "You don't have a headache, do you?"

"No, I'm fine," he muttered, letting his hand fall to his side. Would she care so much if she discovered I'm destined to become a hybrid? There was no one else in school…like him, so he had no sounding board for their opinions on cursed people.

"Are you sure?" Rukia, as stubborn as she was, would keep going until she'd beaten the entire truth out of him, something Ichigo was keen to avoid. Thankfully the time prevented her from sinking her teeth in as much as normal.

"Yeah." Ichigo shook his head and started up the steps. "Come on, we shouldn't be late for class."

Ichigo's mind was anywhere but school that day, which was hardly surprising. He managed to not doze off by sheer virtue of his inability to fall asleep sitting up; if there was anything of importance in the day's lessons it got crowded out by the burning omen of his curse that took up his entire mind.

By the time the last class was out Ichigo was more than grateful to get out of there, stumbling down the front steps only to be cut off by the small yet intimidating presence of Rukia Kuchiki.

"Ichigo, we were wondering if you wanted to join us?"

Rukia just stood there, on her own, arms folded firmly. Much to his disappointment, Uryū was nowhere to be seen, but considering how out of it he was maybe that was a good thing.

"Huh?" Another twinge lanced through Ichigo's head and he winced.

"Don't give me a huh, idiot. I was asking you if you wanted to spend some time with us now that school's done."

Slowly Ichigo blinked twice, brain lagging to process the words and compare them with his own schedule.

"I don't know if I can, Rukia…I've got practice with Shinji today."

"Again? Didn't you just have a session yesterday?"

"Yeah, but it had to end early. Dad wants his money's worth from the lessons."

Rukia cocked an eyebrow. "If you don't want to hang out with us, Ichigo, you can just say so," she snapped with an annoyed tone. "You've been avoiding us all day, so if there's something you want to say, out with it!"

Ichigo sighed. He hadn't been purposely avoiding anyone, but when he was worried he tended to fold in on himself to the detriment of his social skills.

"I'm not trying to avoid you guys. I'm just tired, that's all." Right on cue Ichigo's jaws parted in a ferocious yawn, and he couldn't help thinking how he must have looked like a wild animal while doing so. "I'll be honest with you, I don't even feel like going to a lesson, but I told him yesterday that I'd make it up today."

Rukia's mouth set in a firm line, but she nodded. "How about tomorrow, then? Surely you can't have a lesson three days in a row."

"You underestimate how bad I am," Ichigo told her, a bit of his usual snark rising up. "I'm lucky Shinji doesn't haul my ass over seven days a week. I wouldn't blame him."

This return to form seemed to comfort Rukia slightly, the tension dropping from her shoulders. "Alright. But tomorrow I want to see you out front of the school as soon as it lets out and ready to hang out, right?"

"Of course, your highness," Ichigo said with a dramatic curtsy. Rukia wasn't really royalty, just a member of a very old and well-known family of gifted. Really, the Kuchiki family was only one step more renowned than the Shiba, making the entire running joke between them more or less a moot point, but Ichigo found it funny enough that he didn't really care. Besides, it usually made Rukia crack a smile.

The sudden movement of the curtsy had sent another flash of pain through his head, and the wince must have shown on his face because the look of concern had returned to Rukia's face, displacing her smile from his previous quip.

"Seriously, though. I'm fine. But I have to get going," he said quickly as he turned and walked off school grounds, leaving a puzzled Rukia in his wake and head pounding with each step.

"Hey, kid, everything all right?"

Shinji and Ichigo were standing in the smoking aftermath of a third failed attempt at precision control. The first two times he'd taken too much energy, and while he'd only taken a trickle the third time his aim had been so wildly off he'd made a tiny dent in a completely different wall.

"Yeah." Ichigo shrugged, not wanting to seem vulnerable.

"It's just, you seem pretty distracted." He took two steps forward so that he and Ichigo were directly facing each other, a look of sympathy on his face. "Is there anything up?"

"Just a bad sleep last night, that's all." He tried to ignore the pounding inside his skull and put a little smile on his face to allay his tutor's worries. Man, I'm going to need to start snagging Dad's aspirin if this keeps up. I can barely focus when my head hurts this much.

"Ya sure? I don't mind if you want to talk about it."

"I don't know if you should be, considering you're on the clock for trying to teach me the delicate art of not blowing things up."

"Listen, Ichigo, your mind is clearly elsewhere. We don't have to keep going, and I'll dock any conversation time from this week's bill. This isn't out of professional obligation, it's out of concern for my favourite pupil."

"I'm not your favourite, Shinji. Cut the bull. If you had a favourite, it wouldn't be some ass like me who keeps failing every lesson."

"Now, Ichigo, what did I tell you about self-esteem? Ya can't learn to use your ability if you're constantly shitting on yourself. Let's call this conversation a part of your personal growth in order to better control your ability. What's wrong? We can't make progress if you're not honest."

"What is this, a therapy session?" Ichigo growled. "Listen, Shinji, I'm tired. I just came from school. And I'm not great on the control front at the best of times. Everything's fine."

"You remember yesterday? That's the best you've ever done."

"I guess." It felt like Ichigo's brain was throbbing with every heartbeat, making it difficult to think. "Like I said, I'm just." He yawned. "Tired. And my head's killing me."

Shinji sighed. "I guess we really aren't gonna make anymore progress today, are we? We can call it here if you like. Oh, and Ichigo?"

"Yeah?"

"I forgot to ask, how was the doctor's appointment yesterday?"

He was like a deer caught in headlights, unsure how to respond. A couple of times he opened and closed his mouth but no sound came out. Instead he hurriedly reached for his bag and slung it over his shoulder, hoping to make a run for it before any more uncomfortable questions came up.

"It, was, uh, fine, you know." Words weren't flowing properly from his brain to his mouth, disrupted on their journey by his pounding headache. "Nothing, really. Ability's fine. Body's fine. Status quo." A slight tremor crept into his voice, and he hoped Shinji couldn't hear it.

The look on his face suggested he guessed there was more going on that Ichigo wasn't telling him, but he simply nodded. "That's good to hear. Safe trip home, and get a good night's sleep so we can have a proper lesson in two days' time, alright?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Sensei Hirako."

"Ichigo, I keep telling you to call me Shinji. And you usually do."

With a hazy start Ichigo realized what he'd said. He hadn't called Shinji 'Sensei Hirako' since their first few months of training, after which point Shinji insisted they drop formalities entirely and just go on a first-name basis. It suited Ichigo just fine, which made it particularly strange that he slipped back into the uncharacteristic formality now.

"Sorry. Like I said, I'm kinda out of it today. Thanks for putting up with me, Shinji. See you next lesson." With a little half-hearted wave he strode out the warehouse door and headed in the direction of home.

It took all the willpower Ichigo possessed and then some to not let a bit of his energy out to play with while he walked. Only the image of Masaki's face in his mind restrained him, jamming his hands in his pockets and stalking down the street. He swept his gaze from side to side, taking in the streets filled with normal humans. He'd never felt like he belonged among the masses, having been born to two parents with abilities and knowing there was something inside him that set him apart. But this was different. He could hide his ability. A curse would be as bad as a flashing neon light floating above his head at all times reading Ichigo Shiba: Complete and Utter Freak.

The people of Karakura Town were not helping Ichigo's rapidly building stress. Angrily he cast his view down and kept walking. Back at home he could stew in silence.

Ichigo made a beeline straight to his bedroom, quickly changing after lobbing his bag onto the bed with barely pent up frustration. With a brief glance he pulled his phone out of the wreckage and checked the screen. It displayed a single message from Rukia:

Hey Ichigo you alright? You seemed out of it today

With a sigh Ichigo sank down on his bed. Was he really that bad at hiding his little furry problem? Whatever it was he knew he was absolutely going to end up furry. Everyone cursed always ended up with fur.

Yeah, I'm fine sorry to worry you guys just running on no sleep

He set the phone down on his sheets, burying his head in his hands. The way life had been before, he'd taken it for granted. Now it would never be the same again, no matter how hard he wished it.

He let himself have a brief moment of weakness but pushed through it, standing up and striding to the door.

"Yuzu? Need any help with supper?"