Author's Note:

There is an *extremely* brief mention of vomit in this chapter, but it is not described aside from the fact that it occurred.

Vertigo (n):a loss of balance; dizziness

(Also, if you were to assume that this chapter was named in part after the 1958 movie of the same name, I wouldn't be offended.)


It wasn't a date.

That's what Ichigo kept telling himself firmly as he got ready for his dinner plans, using extra hairspray to arrange his hair just so after taking a painfully thorough shower.

It wasn't a date, regardless of whatever Kaien said.

He just wanted to look good for his friend, even if that meant spending a stupid amount of time feathering his hair and trying to ignore how his heart fluttered every time he thought about what lay in wait for him.

Eventually Ichigo had to give up and say his hair looked good enough. No one put this much time and effort into looking good for their friends, anyway. Or at least he didn't.

Ichigo certainly wasn't the sort to whistle a little tune as he walked down the stairs to leave, satchel slung over his shoulder, but then again everyone has their off days.

"Ichigo?" Yuzu peeked her head out of the kitchen, eyes wide. "Did I just hear you whistling?"

"No," he lied firmly. "I'm heading out tonight for dinner, remember? No need to make a fourth serving."

"Oh." She visibly deflated just a little, but brightened up quickly. "You're hanging out with your friends, right?"

"That's right." A little smile quirked at Ichigo's lips. "I'll be back later on this evening, okay?" Assuming everything went okay and Uryū didn't find reason to storm out on him in a huff.

"All right. See you later, Ichigo."

Ichigo was about two blocks from his house when he got the nagging feeling that he'd forgotten something particularly important, but no amount of carding through his mind seemed to want to bring it up. He'd already finished his schoolwork the evening before, and there was nothing he'd needed to take care of back at the clinic. As far as he could tell he'd been perfectly responsible, but the feeling kept nudging gently at him.

Angrily Ichigo shook his head, a movement that awakened a previously dormant pain. That was something he'd rather forget, the seemingly eternal case of headaches he'd found himself with, but they didn't seem to be going away any time soon.

By the time Ichigo was nearing the corner where they'd agreed to meet he'd chalked the tickling feeling up to anxiety and nerves over meeting Uryū alone. It was always the three of them, the pair always accompanied by Rukia. He wasn't sure how an entire evening together left to their own devices would go, nor if he'd be able to hold back his mouth for the duration and not let slip something stupid that he shouldn't be saying, like how he'd been nurturing a massive crush on the assuredly Mr. Straight, son of Even Straighter, for the last year and a half. Ichigo was still massively embarassed that he even had a crush on another guy in the first place, and the idea of Uryū himself knowing it was nothing short of mortifying.

At least his sudden onset of gay panic in the few days leading up to their pseudo-dinner date had taken some mental space away from the gnawing worry of his curse—or lack thereof, as he had been trying to convince himself. It was far from forgotten about, still chipping away at his peace of mind every spare chance it got, but having to temporarily share mindspace with another issue with a more pressing and defined deadline had at least quieted it.

Ichigo's heart did a backwards flutter when he saw Uryū waiting at the corner by the lightpost, standing stiff and straight with his eyes flickering around to watch the passing traffic, no doubt watching the wisps of spirits no one else could see.

"Hey," he tried as he pulled level, a nervous smile on his face. Up close he was as beautiful as always, his crisply ironed button-down light blue shirt complementing his tidy black hair that shone in the late-day sun. He looked even cleaner than usual, if Ichigo had to guess, quite a feat indeed considering how meticulous he was. His clothes were free of even the tiniest wrinkle and his face was so clean it shone, barely a single speck marring his complexion. Ichigo's heart was hammering in his chest—

"Are you going to stand there staring at me all day, or are you going to get going so we can make dinner?" Uryū raised a sleek dark eyebrow, folding his arms in front of his chest.

Shit! I spent too long staring!

"Sorry, we can get going. I just…"

"Didn't expect me to turn up?"

"No! Not that. I trusted you." Ichigo bit his tongue before he could say something like it's just, you're looking really pretty today. There was no faster way to get himself a one-way ticket to peak embarrassment. This stammering was so unlike him, it was frustrating.

"Well, if you're done with your little analysis of my outfit, I'd like to get walking to the restaurant. I think there's a spirit half a block away that's cottoning on to the fact I can see her, and I'd really rather not have to deal with that."

Uryū led the walk to the restaurant, having been the one to choose in the first place. Ichigo hung just behind him, about a pace and a half, trailing almost like a servant eager to please and unwilling to take even a single step ahead lest it displease his master.

It was so beyond foolish, Ichigo acting like this with anyone, let alone Uryū, who'd been his friend since eighth grade. They should have developed a firm rapport of friendship at this point, the sort where one felt that they could tell the other almost anything in confidence.

But no. I had to get a whole bunch of 'feelings' and go fuck it all up.

Ichigo hated his emotions sometimes, now more than ever. It was hard to be strong and sturdy and steadfast for everyone else when your heart was spinning cartwheels over a cute teenage boy, a sentence he would never dare utter to anyone lest he suffer the greatest humiliation of his life he doubted even transforming into an anthropomorphic wolf or cat could top.

He was so absorbed in kicking himself he missed some of the usual hallmarks of Uryū now that he had his ability: gaze darting at random intervals to seemingly unoccupied places, a slight forlorn cast to his expression. It was just as well, because with the mood Ichigo was in that day noticing would probably make him feel even worse.

The place Uryū had chosen was small and quaint, more café-sized than full restaurant. The minute he pushed the door open the smell of cooking food hit Ichigo with such intensity that his stomach started to growl, protesting that he really should be eating more of whatever food was making that delicious smell.

Uryū must have heard, because he turned to him with a little smirk. "Get a hold of yourself, Shiba. Please tell me you had lunch today and weren't starving yourself for our little date."

"It's not a date," Ichigo snapped, instantly feeling sheepish afterwards (a distinctly uncharacteristic emotion) and adding, "I did eat lunch, it was just a while ago and I think I'm on a growth spurt or something."

"I hope it's not too big. I'd hate to have to crane my neck to talk to you," Uryū remarked as they took a seat next to the window, the early evening light streaming in and casting his face in a beautiful, slightly rosy glow.

"I dunno, it might be fun to look down on you."

"You wouldn't dare," he said blandly.

A sudden desire to reach out and playfully tap Uryū on the nose ran through Ichigo's body, and he was beyond thankful that he had maintained enough self-control to resist. Briefly he wondered just how out of whack curse instincts might make his behaviour in the future, if this was only the very beginning, but told himself to shut up. There were more pressing matters to attend to.

Namely, how absolutely gorgeous Uryū was with the evening light casting his face in a perfectly balanced chiaroscuro like some sort of renaissance painting. He looked like some sort of unattainable demigod, a burdened dragon, not someone that Ichigo was going out for noodles with.

The conversation didn't pick up again until they'd placed their orders and held two welcome frosty cold water glasses in front of them, Ichigo wrapping his hand around his own and grateful for the cool after enduring the outside heat.

"You know, my grandfather and I used to come here all the time on Sundays when I was a kid."

It wasn't at all what Ichigo expected him to say.

"Really?"

"Yes. He'd take me here, order me a small bowl of noodles all for my own, and we'd talk about everything and nothing. Kid stuff, mostly. Now it's nothing of any consequence, but then it felt earth-shattering. And he'd listen to me, hang on my every word and act like he really cared about silly things like who had pushed me down in the mud at school or a new children's book I'd binged in a day."

"Someone pushed you into the mud? Point me in their direction so I can kick their ass."

Uryū rolled his eyes. "It was eight years ago, Ichigo. I'm sure they've long forgotten it. You can leave your chivalry—"

"It's not chivalry," Ichigo said firmly. "I don't like hearing that my friends get bullied."

"Since I started hanging out with you, no one's dared."

"Is that true or are you just saying that to get me off your case?"

"It is true. Although I'd like you to get off my case anyway."

"Is it so bad to have someone looking out for you?"

His words seemed to catch Uryū off guard, making him blink owlishly as if he wasn't quite sure what to make of them.

"I wouldn't say it's bad. It's just not something I'm used to, very often." He shrugged noncommittally as if to wave off Ichigo's concerns.

Affection rose in Ichigo's chest, angry that it had to take no for an answer to its enquiry: Can I hold his hand now?

"Stick with me. I try my best to look after the people I care about." Ichigo shot him a sunny smile that was more than genuine.

"I think 'care about me' might be overselling things, Ichigo. We're just friends—"

"And friends can't care for each other?" The response shot Uryū down promptly. "Look, just because you can see the dead doesn't mean you need to be an emo necromancer edgelord all the time, alright?"

"Wha—" Uryū blustered, reaching for his glass and looking like he was contemplating upending it over Ichigo's head. "I'll have you know that my ability is traumatic, Shiba, and if you make fun of it one more time—"

"Relax. I get it. I know it sucks. I didn't mean anything by it. Sorry if I came off as rude. You know, if you ever need to talk about your ability to someone—"

"Fat chance."

"I'm just saying that my ear is available, is all."

Uryū heaved a sigh. "I'm just in a sour mood about it, alright? I had to spend part of this morning hanging around the hospital again, and even though thankfully no one died that doesn't mean there weren't a half dozen spirits hanging around the place. Once they pick up that I'm looking at them and not through them, well." He threw his hands up in exasperation. "It was a frustrating morning, especially considering I'm under strict orders to act normal even if one of them comes up to talk to me, or decides to pester me for an hour. But no, Ryuken wants to maintain the illusion that his son is perfectly normal, thank you very much, and keeps grooming me to follow in his footsteps. I don't know why he even bothers." Uryū's hand was still on his cold water glass, droplets of condensation running onto his fingers. "We all know that as soon as I graduate, every morgue and forensics department in the country's going to be on my case and try to poach me. With an ability like mine, post-secondary's not even an option. And if it was I'd rather it wasn't medical school."

"I'm sure it won't be that bad," Ichigo said with a little smile. "You'll be able to pick your own future, I'm sure of it."

"That's nice, Ichigo, but I doubt it. People like me are in high demand. As soon as I register my ability they'll be swarming until I answer one of them yes."

Ichigo realized that he was probably right, but the truth of the matter was somewhat sad.

"Don't think you're exempt, either. Something like you've got, well, I'm sure they'll either want you as a weapon or a battery to power an entire prefecture."

"I'm pretty sure that second one's illegal."

"It may be illegal on paper, Ichigo, but don't think for one second that anyone is above using us sui generis for nefarious purposes. Mark my words, everyone's going to want a piece of you. Actually, I bet you'll get international offers once they catch wind of your ability."

"Wow, thanks for the downer, Uryū. I wasn't already feeling awful about my ability or anything, I really needed the prospect of being hooked up to a power grid to get the hatred flowing."

"Say what you will about hating your ability, just be grateful you don't get followed by ghosts no one else can see."

"I guess they have different challenges." Although Ichigo wasn't quite sure if there was much in Uryū's ability he could take pride in. Even though his own was sketchy and unpredictable, using it still brought him joy.

"I guess." Uryū began to avoid Ichigo's eyes, and the conversation fell off awkwardly into an abysm.

There were a few smatterings of conversation between then and when their dinner arrived, the casual talk of friends who weren't entirely comfortable divulging what they really felt with each other quite yet. The conversation of their futures had cut a little too deep for both of their comforts, a topic that would usually have Rukia there to bridge the two of them. Ichigo wanted to have a casual carefree conversation pucntuated by occasional laughter, more than anything in that very moment, but felt that they'd already squashed that possibility with the dour subject of abilities.

It was welcome when they had their food, steaming bowls of noodles wafting a heavenly aroma of sauce and sautéed vegetables up to Ichigo's nose and making his stomach growl in anticipation. Whatever it was that had kicked his appetite into overdrive, curse or no curse, he was starving.

He did manage to restrain himself, though, as if waiting for some signal from Uryū that it was okay to start eating.

Delicately Uryū picked up his chopsticks in his left hand, daintily prodding at a noodle as if testing to see if it was really a doughy, venomous snake that might bite him. Ichigo sat on the edge of his seat, wishing he'd just get on with eating the noodle already, so he wouldn't seem rude when he began eating.

Finally he picked it up with a sigh, slowly nibbling on the end before letting the rest of its length disappear behind his lips.

Taking this as his cue Ichigo dove into his own food, shovelling noodles into his mouth at an alarming rate he hadn't thought himself capable of. He was just so hungry, stomach growling and gnawing at him, begging to be filled.

He'd swallowed an entire mouthful that size, almost choking on the way down, before he looked up and saw Uryū staring at him with a slight look of mixed revulsion and amusement.

"You have sauce on your chin," he stammered, pointing and moving his finger around to indicate the entire lower half of his face.

Ichigo could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and he hastily took his hand and scrubbed away at his chin after swallowing the last of his colossal mouthful. That did a little to stay his hunger, but there was still a void begging to be filled.

Does my curse mean I'm going to act like this more often? He wanted Uryū to see the best side of him, damn it, not the side that could apparently shovel up more noodles than any sane human should have in their mouth at one time.

"I have never seen something so…" Uryū pursed his lips, seemingly unsure what exactly to say next. "Do all Shibas have the ability to unhinge their jaw like a snake for maximum noodle retention, or is that a you thing?"

If he'd been any less mortified Ichigo would have thought the words 'maximum noodle retention' to be among the funniest he'd heard all week, maybe even all month, but the situation called for a little more sobriety. Unhinged his jaw? He hadn't actually done that, had he?

"I don't think I unhinged my jaw," Ichigo said defensively, dropping his chopsticks entirely and staring firmly at Uryū's shoulder. "I'm as human as you are, Uryū. Sheesh. What kind of freak do you take me for?"

Uryū looked a little taken aback at this, which was understandable considering Ichigo was usually the one out of the two of them more inclined to make stupid jokes like that.

"I was just trying to make a joke, Ichigo. Sorry if that bothered you." Despite the callous tone he attempted it was clear Uryū was sorry, still not at ease on something like a date even if he knew the other person.

Ichigo felt a little pang of guilt. He hadn't wanted to make him any more uncomfortable than it was clear he already was, but his words had struck a sensitive spot. Like hell Ichigo was going to admit he had a sensitive spot, though.

After that silence fell over the two of them for a while, Uryū only picking at his dinner and Ichigo forcing himself to not make another animalistic move on his plate of noodles. Instead he took two at a time delicately between his chopsticks and chewed them properly before swallowing like a normal person, ignoring the angry growling of his stomach that urged him to upend the entire dinner down his gullet in one fell swoop.

After ten minutes of empty silence, and his hunger having lessened significantly, Ichigo took another (admittedly pathetic) stab at conversation.

"Read any good books lately?"

Uryū looked a bit taken aback by the sudden break in silence, but played along much to Ichigo's relief. They chattered on for a while between bites, conversation flowing amicably between friends in a way that for the first time that evening made Ichigo feel that maybe his feelings would have a future. Talking also helped him restrain from dumping the entire bowl into his mouth like his body was telling him he should.

The conversation even continued after they'd finished their meal. After the dust had settled, though, Ichigo started to regret his ravenous devouring of the food, his stomach beginning to churn with the sudden influx of nutrition.

Make up your damn mind. Eat more, Ichigo. You ate too much, Ichigo. How the fuck am I supposed to know what to do, you stupid stomach?

He was able to push the growing queasiness away in favour of the increasingly warm conversation though. The nice part of their pre-existing friendship meant they already knew what each other liked and disliked in broad strokes, meaning it felt more like a platonic debate than two uncomfortable people meeting for the first time on a romantic date.

It would have been near perfect if Ichigo's nausea wasn't steadily increasing.

After a while of idle chat Uryū pulled money out to pay for dinner. Ichigo swatted his hand away.

"No, let me get it. You picked the place, I get to pay. Only fair."

"Actually, that's not fair at all, Ichigo. You paying would be unfair for your side to balance."

"Not really, I'm awful at making benign decisions like that so we'd still be standing on the street weighing the pros and cons of every restaurant in Karakura, beyond hungry." His stomach churned again, making an unintelligible comment on his words.

"You can't be that bad. Let me pay, Ichigo."

"No, I insist." With a rustle he reached into his bag with the hopes of finding some money; he didn't exactly have a stable income but surely if birthday money was good for anything it could serve as a way to buy dinner for the beautiful, the breathtaking, Uryū Ishida.

"Do you even have a job?"

"Do you?"

"I get money from my 'volunteer' shifts at the hospital. Really, I have this."

"My birthday was just a few weeks ago, I have something kicking around in the bottom of my bag," he said as he felt through the piles of paper from discarded shopping lists, school assignments and what might have been a cardstock flyer for where it was he'd left the portion of his birthday money he'd not stuffed away in his closet. The Shiba family was notorious for their generous monetary gifts on every occasion for their younger members, meaning Ichigo had enough to spare to pay for this one special dinner.

"There!" His fist closed around a wad of yen that had been buried under his emergency book. With a slam he set it down on the table, a grin on his face. "That should cover it, right?" He blinked a few times, black spots flickering in front of his eyes from the sudden change of posture.

"I told you, I'm going to pay for dinner."

"At least let me pay for yours," Ichigo wheedled, trying to not get distracted by his churning stomach and spinning head.

"Fine! But I'm paying for your dinner, Shiba, and that's final," Uryū said with an amused glint in his eye.

"All right, I get it. I pay for your dinner and you pay for mine."

"Deal." It looked like Uryū was trying to not look amused, the slight twitching of a smile on his lips making Ichigo's heart flutter.

They counted out the right amount for each of them and set it in the center of the table, prepared to pay as they amiably chatted a bit more. The evening was really going almost as well as Ichigo could have realistically expected; he knew it wasn't exactly like they would start holding hands and delicately kissing each other, so this was really the best case scenario.

Or it was, until his nausea became more insistent, jabbing at Ichigo and making it difficult to sit up and maintain a normal face, let alone participate in their light and airy conversation regarding summer weather.

"Just a minute," he said quickly, forcing a smile. "I need to make a quick stop to the washroom, be right back?"

"Sure." Uryū looked like he wanted to say something else, but must have thought better of it as he nodded and let him go.

It took all Ichigo had to not collapse right there, the sudden act of getting up making the room spin a little under his feet. He grabbed the edge of the table, not wanting to let Uryū see his legs fall out from under him, shooting his date a weak smile.

"Are you all right, Ichigo? You're looking pretty pale."

"I'll be fine," he insisted, gathering the strength to pry himself away from the table and forcing his legs in front of the other, trying his very best to ignore how the floor was beginning to slant away to his right with a threat to slide him all the way to the corner of the restaurant.

By some miracle he made it into the bathroom, and by a second it was empty. The luck meant little, however, as Ichigo took a single step and lost the flimsy grasp he'd had on keeping balance. He tipped over and only just caught himself on the edge of the sink, head angled directly down. There was a wavy distorted reflection of himself in the tap, but he couldn't maintain focus on it. The lights were making his head hurt, so he gently closed his eyes and took a deep breath in.

He tried, but he couldn't hold back the vomit. It wasn't very much, and did even less to stop the room from spinning even with eyes closed. Hurriedly he turned the tap on, desperate to erase any signs of his body's malfunction before someone else walked in and found him bent over the sink like a gnarled tree.

No. No. No. The word echoed through his head with each hammer beat of his heart, denial as to what this ferocious bout of vertigo truly meant, what it really was that had sent him into a centrifuge in the middle of an unmoving room.

If he kept taking the medication the curse wouldn't come, it had to stay away.

He hadn't taken his pills. That had been what he'd forgotten. In the sheer anticipation of his first real date Ichigo had left his pills underneath the pile of clothes on his desk, the two he ought to have taken that night still inside.

If taking them so far meant he was bearing the curse at half-strength, this must be what it felt like unfettered. Nothing had ever made a more convincing argument for him to keep taking his meds than this, nausea coupled with the molten fear that the monster inside him was snarling and sizing up his body to determine how best to configure itself onto him.

The room was still tilting under his feet but the queasiness had slightly abated, giving Ichigo the courage to blink open his eyes. All remnants of his episode had been rinsed down the drain, the sides of the sink still glistening with water. Gently he eased his head up, fearing what he might see reflected back in the mirror, trying as hard as he could to ignore the room's swooping under his feet as he did.

Ostensibly the image in the mirror was just Ichigo Shiba, nothing different or changed about his appearance except for his uncharacteristic paper-white pallor. Nothing about his face suggested anything wrong except for a touch of nausea. A stranger would never guess that the reason he almost passed out was a blood curse, and he intended to keep it that way.

The image of his face flickered through his mind's eye with an indeterminate monstrous overlay, but vanished as soon as he thought to examine closer. It offered no suggestions as to what it was he was doomed to turn into.

Shakily he looked around the room, making sure he was still alone. If he ran the tap just for a short while, just long enough to pick up some of the running water's kinetic energy, he might be able to refresh himself a bit. He'd already been holed up here for a while; much longer and Uryū would get concerned. Sure, technically using his ability in a public place when only sixteen was illegal, but he highly doubted the small restaurant had ability detectors placed everywhere like larger centers did and there wasn't even anyone to witness him doing something unnatural.

Letting his breath hiss out through his teeth Ichigo eased the tap on again, turning it all the way to hot. He still felt on the verge of keeling over, but sticking his hand under the warmth was an instant balm and let him close his eyes to concentrate.

It wasn't long before delicate chains of energy were laced around his hand again, turning from droplets to pure static upon making contact with his skin. Not wanting to risk being caught he shut the water off, absorbing the light up into his core and felt an immediate improvement. His legs were still slightly weak but upon re-opening his eyes he found the world had stabilized on its orbit once again, strength returning and the nausea receding like a low tide.

Ichigo took another breath and walked out of the washroom, feeling the humming of his core against his chest renewed again. It hadn't been depleted, meaning that low energy wasn't the real cause of his vertigo spell, but at the very least it had made it subside for the time being.

When he slid back into his seat Uryū's face was creased with concern. Ichigo picked his bag up off the seat and noticed with a sinking feeling that sticking out of the top was the flyer for Xcution.

He hadn't forgotten he'd put it in his bag, per se, but his frantic search for Uryū's dinner money must have shifted it up to the top. Angrily he shoved it down again under his book before righting himself.

"Are you okay, Ichigo? You were looking pretty pale there for a while."

"I'm fine now." Uryū's concern simultaneously irritated and pleased Ichigo, a dichotomy that he was sure must have been showing on his face.

"Good." Uryū nodded but looked like he had something else he wanted to say.

"So were we going to get dessert or call it a night?" Now that he no longer felt like he was going to pass out cold on the floor of a public washroom, Ichigo was eager to get on with the evening's proceedings.

"I'm not sure if I want dessert. How about we just go for a long walk before going home?"

"Sure." He shrugged. If the craving for sweets got bad enough, he could always raid the cupboard at home for a chocolate bar.

Karakura Town was awash in the evening light when they left the restaurant, slight hints of orange and pink teasing at the edges of the sky. Ichigo and Uryū walked a strange undefined distance away from one another, closer than friends but a bit too chaste a distance for seasoned partners; neither of them were comfortable enough with social cues to be the one to press the established buffer zone. Even if Ichigo desperately wanted to. He wasn't exactly affection starved, but he had the distinct feeling that a good hug might do wonders to improve his mood, darkened significantly after his vertiginous episode.

His mind kept wandering, rather unhelpfully, to the Xcution flyer in his bag. Did that have something to do with Uryū's sudden concerned looks? He'd been in the bathroom a while, meaning that he would have had ample time to see it and draw conclusions.

Or maybe his concern had just been because his friend had been as white as a sheet of paper and nearly fallen over. That was the more logical conclusion to make, but that didn't stop Ichigo's mind from racing to far worse possibilities.

"Everything all right? In your life, I mean?" Uryū seemed like he was cautiously pressing the matter.

There was no longer any questioning whether or not he'd seen the flyer. Ichigo fiddled with the metallic strawberry keychain dangling from his satchel, unsure how best to go about answering the question.

"I guess. I mean, I've been struggling with ability control, but that's hardly news. Everything's just status quo, you know?"

A quick glance over at Uryū showed that his brow was creased in concern.

"Honestly, Uryū, it's nothing. I just got a bit dizzy back there, is all."

He pursed his lips, but let it slide.

Neither of them mentioned Ichigo's bout of vertigo for the rest of the evening.