Ichigo's eyes flickered open at the shrill insistence of his alarm, still hazy with a film of sleep.

He slammed it off with one hand, having every intention of getting up but allowing himself just another minute nestled into his sheets. His gaze stared across the endless sea of weaves on the white bedsheet, idle amusement enjoyed only because his mind was still foggy.

Was that a faint hint of food he could smell wafting underneath his bedroom door? His nose couldn't quite make it out.

Without thinking Ichigo stuck his tongue out into the air, hoping to get any further details regarding the promise of breakfast. It delivered nothing, coming back into his mouth with no additional information for his growling stomach.

With a groan Ichigo rolled flat on his back, his tailbone giving a small twinge in protest that he promptly ignored. His desire to spend as much time as possible lying there in bed before he had to leave for school competed with his hunger, and which one would win out remained to be seen.

If he could gain more information on what breakfast was, maybe he'd be able to make an informed decision. His nose still proving inadequate to provide any more information than cooked food, his tongue darted out between his lips again—

What the fuck am I doing? The cold realization that he'd just repeatedly done something extremely…well…inhuman flooded through Ichigo, and he jammed his tongue back into his mouth, locked away behind clenched jaws.

You complete idiot, humans don't taste the air with their tongues! He slapped himself on the cheek, hoping the stinging sensation would be adequate to stop this absurd behaviour in its tracks. It might have been that he'd spent so much time these past few weeks worrying about becoming something feral that he'd somehow tricked his body into doing strange things when only half awake. That must have been it. At least his tongue was no longer filling his mouth; his swelling from the previous evening must have went down overnight while he slept.

Giving in to the pressing need to get ready for the day Ichigo pried himself up to a sitting position, trying to ignore how it sent his head reeling. He reached for his phone and shot Rukia a quick message informing her that his tongue was fine now (no need to worry) before getting up and yanking his uniform on.

A nagging voice in his head asked him if his school uniform would even fit after the curse was done with him, but angrily he shoved it down. The curse was just him getting worked up over absolutely nothing. So what if he'd have some headaches and nausea for the next few months? It wasn't like he was transforming into some sort of demented half wolf, half man monster. Like Kaien had said: that was werewolves, and they didn't exist.

He pushed the door to his room open and crossed to the bathroom, pillbottle rattling in his pocket in anticipation of his morning dosage. With a gentle click he shut the door behind him, giving his reflection a good look up and down in the mirror out of rote habit to assure himself that he was still human.

"Good," he muttered to himself while reaching for the water glass. The word felt a little strange on his tongue, but he figured that was likely just a side effect of spending a decent portion of the previous day with it filling his mouth.

Quickly he swallowed his morning allotment of pills, noticing with a disheartened glance that he'd have to get more soon. His tongue still didn't feel quite recovered after the previous day, but surely that was to be expected. That allergic reaction, or whatever it was, had been fairly severe.

Just to soothe his racing mind, though, Ichigo stuck his tongue out to make sure it was the right shape and size of a human tongue again.

But it wasn't.

With waves of shock, horror and revulsion, Ichigo stared at his reflection in the mirror, thinking that he had to be hallucinating. There was no way that what he was seeing was real. It couldn't be. The curse wasn't actually affecting him, after all. That was what the medication was for.

The swelling in his tongue had vanished, but left it entirely different than it had once been. Splayed out in the air was what was left of it, the tip forked neatly halfway down its length. He could move each half slightly independent of each other if he tried hard enough, but attempting to press them back together so it was once again a human tongue was fruitless.

There was nothing he could do about it. For the first time the curse had made a move and done something fully and fundamentally irreversible. Ichigo tried to close his mouth and stick out his tongue again a few times in a futile hope that it might change when he did it, but of course there was no luck.

He really was cursed. For three weeks he'd bullheadedly gone through the paces of life as if denial might be a cure, but there was no way of doing that anymore. Not when the proof of his fate was staring him in the mirror.

Ichigo prided himself on being strong when others needed it, refusing to let anyone see him lose face even for the briefest of seconds. Seeing your guardian break down was a surefire way of losing faith in him, something he never wanted to let happen. His friends and family needed to know that he was always there for them.

No one had even seen him cry since his tenth birthday. That wasn't to say it had been six years since he'd last cried—on the contrary, every year on the anniversary of his mother's abduction he hid himself under his sheets and sobbed—but he tried very hard to shield that soft, more emotional side of himself from the world, made all the easier by his own incompetence when it came to feelings as a whole.

Every rule has an exception, though, and right then it was all Ichigo could do to double over the sink and begin weeping, chest heaving with each breath and tears dripping onto the shiny silver surface of the tap. He was losing himself and his body already. If only Masaki was still there, to rub him on the shoulders and reassure him that this would change nothing and that she still loved him. There was no guarantee that anyone else could bring themself to love him after he turned into whatever sort of beast it was he was destined to be. He'd be cast out on the streets, a freak given a wide berth by everyone walking past and begging for scraps from whoever was kind enough to spare him a second glance.

What kind of future does someone like…like me have?

His constant headache was flaring in the wake of the sudden round of crying, but Ichigo could hardly bring himself to care anymore.

The tears only paused when he heard a slight knock on the door. How long it had been he wasn't quite sure.

"Ichigo? Are you okay? Breakfast is getting cold, and school's soon."

Had Yuzu heard me cry? Despite himself Ichigo felt a twinge of disappointment that she might have seen such a vulnerable side of him. He pulled his head upright and stared back at his red-rimmed eyes, wondering how long he had before they turned some sort of unnatural colour. He didn't bother looking at his tongue, even if he had a strange urge to do so. Proving the curse, one way or another, it was only going to upset him in the long run and he knew it.

"Ichigo! I'm getting worried. Is there something wrong?"

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Ichigo forced himself to respond.

"I'm okay."

"Are you sure? It's been a while."

"I'm fine, Yuthu." In a horrifying instant Ichigo realized that his tongue wasn't cooperating with his mouth to pronounce his sister's name properly. Another tear escaped his eye as he wondered how long he had before he couldn't hide the curse any longer. "Coming for food," he added, trying to avoid any words that could flare up his apparently lisping snake tongue before he figured out how to speak properly again. Aggressively he wiped the damp away from his face, sliding the pills back into his pocket out of sight and easing the door open, trying to avoid eye contact with Yuzu to make sure she didn't see how puffy his eyelids were.

By some miracle it took Ichigo only a day to get rid of most of his lisp.

While it still was a problem he passed it off as aftereffects of his allergic reaction the previous day. Rukia was slightly concerned but seemed at least to be grateful that he was feeling better. By the time he went to school the next day it was completely gone, his body having gotten used to speaking with a forked tongue unnervingly quickly. Ichigo wasn't exactly in a place to complain, though. Anything that let him hide how much of an awful freak he was for a bit longer was fine by him.

Now, it was eight days since his little tongue incident, and during the last seven the only time his careful control had slipped had been when he was particularly angry, his s starting to lisp and not going back again until he calmed down. Thankfully this hadn't been a particularly common occurrence.

That also meant that the monthly scheduled meeting of the Xcution Cursed Outreach had drawn closer. Ichigo would vehemently deny it if asked, but his tongue incident had shaken him deeper than he wanted to admit. All week he'd been wrestling with whether or not he should go, telling himself it wasn't a matter of courage (he refused to think he was a coward) more than one of whether or not the situation was severe enough to warrant it.

The simple fact was that Ichigo's curse was making him feel isolated (and yes, scared, regardless of what he'd insist), which meant it was efficiently forcing his hand.

And that was why he'd snuck out of the house before supper one evening on the pretense of some ridiculous story about wanting to take a quick walk, enjoying the summer air, throwing around empty promises to be back for dinner; but instead he made a beeline for the part of town he knew the meeting was in.

At first it was easy to act normal, but the closer he got to Xcution the more skittish Ichigo got, glancing around every thirty seconds or so to make sure no one that might recognize him was around. He felt more than a little silly for such high levels of paranoia, but no one could find out about his curse. It was bad enough that he'd nearly blacked out on his dinner with Uryu, and had Rukia see his little tongue incident. Him attending a meeting unequivocally intended for people affected by curses was the death knell for the normal life he was fighting to hold on to.

Much to Ichigo's surprise, Xcution looked like a perfectly normal restaurant. It was tucked among several mundane businesses near Karakura's town center, devoid of any signage that suggested any unusual quality to what and who was inside. There was a small board out front announcing the day's special drinks and snacks, chalk writing just legible in the evening light.

Ichigo set his hand on the door and took a deep breath in.

This is it. The point of no return.

If he walked in this door, he was admitting to himself that he was cursed. Denial was futile, though, when he had a forked tongue behind his teeth.

The front door to Xcution opened easily under Ichigo's touch, leading him into a cheerful lounge saturated with the heavenly smell of food. Along one side of the room was the counter with a few bar stools sitting empty; there were tables on the other side. On the wall next to the counter, above the smaller menu propped up on its surface, was a notice advertising that it was a free space for all to use their abilities, regardless of licensed status.

The back wall of the lounge had a door roughly in the center, partially obscured by a large poster the same colourful writing that had graced their flyer. It was meant to be inviting, but to Ichigo it looked a bit more like the open mouth of a waiting predator.

Tentatively Ichigo took a few steps toward it, thankful the lounge was at present mostly empty, the few people left at the bar occupied in chatting amongst themselves.

It's just a door, he told himself. You don't even have to say anything. Just hear what they have to say. It might be useful.

Tugging his hood up higher to make sure none of his face was visible, Ichigo took two more steps towards the door before stopping in his tracks, feeling his heart pounding from anxiety.

He could have placed his hand on the humming air conditioner in the corner and gained a little bit of energy to steady his heart—for once, he was actually allowed to use his ability—but he was trying to keep his presence there a well-kept secret. He had no idea who might recognize him there, who he knew that came to Xcution as a sanctuary. Being the only one with the very distinct looking ability of Energy Transfer in the entirety of Japan would make him stick out like a sore thumb, and next thing he knew everyone in Karakura would know that he'd come to the meeting of Affected.

Instead he bit down on his tongue (his stupid damned forked tongue) and marched up to the back room, slamming the door behind him.

Everyone in the small ring of chairs looked up to see who the unexpected stranger who had just walked into the room was, making Ichigo sink even deeper into the recesses of his hood.

"Oh! I don't believe I've met you." The woman addressing the skittish Ichigo had long turquoise hair with two horse ears sticking out. Cautiously he traced his gaze across the rest of her, hoping the ears were the worst she had, but found her legs ended in hooves.

It may have been rude but he couldn't help his little shiver.

"I'm Nel. Take a seat," she said with a smile, reaching over to pull back the empty chair next to her. A lance of panic shot through Ichigo and he shook his head vehemently.

"Listen, Nel, they're probably just scared," one of the other members said with a yawn. He looked familiar, with a wolf snout and ears…ah. He'd been the man Ichigo had nearly run over on the horrible day Unohana had given him his diagnosis.

Well, this just got more awkward.

"Well, if you're new to all this of course it's scary. Have you just recently found out?"

Hastily Ichigo nodded, wondering why he responded at all.

"You poor thing. You must be feeling pretty overwhelmed right now, huh?" Nel's smile was kind and inviting, and the part of Ichigo that was still a scared little child wanted nothing more than to sit down next to her and vent all of his issues for the next hour or until everyone told him to get out. He didn't though, because of the rest of him that overpowered his vulnerable side that told him he was going to stay aloof.

He had to hand it to Nel, though; she wasn't making it easy.

"I know finding out you're cursed is really scary, but we're here to help. That's part of why this place exists—making sure that lost people have a place where they can be found. Go on. Sit down. We don't bite."

"Speak for yourself," the wolf-man muttered, but went quiet at Nel's glare.

Slowly Ichigo walked and sat down on the proferred chair, tugging his hood even further forward to hide his face and glancing around the rest of the circle. There was only one other person there. Giving him yet another sympathetic look was a dark-skinned feline woman, purple hair tied back to reveal black cat ears and whiskers twitching in amusement.

"Obviously, we're not the only Afflicted in Karakura," the cat-lady said with a wry smile. "People come in and out of these meetings all the time. You're not stuck with the three of us."

Ichigo let himself smile weakly, but it quickly died when he felt his tongue wander out from behind his lips of its own accord. It might have been out of some deepseated curiosity as to how these hybrids smelled, but the action brought with it absolutely no additional information, just like every other time it had happened.

"Find that unpalletteable, kid? I get we're not the most conventionally accepted crowd, but no need to stick your tongue out at us."

How did she see that? Ichigo found the hem of his sweater and started fiddling.

"Don't worry, we get worse all the time," Nel told him, patting him gently on the shoulder. The contact made Ichigo tense as a bowstring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. "Would you like to introduce yourself?"

"Uhhh." Ichigo trailed off, unsure if he really wanted to go that extra step. Why do these people need to be so damn welcoming?

"It's okay. I know this can be a big step."

Nel's smile made Ichigo's brick wall lower just a tiny little bit. These people…they were like him. There was nothing he could do that they would find weird.

He reached for the edges of his hood, clenching so tight his knuckles went white.

"Take it slow if you have to."

Resolve slightly hardening, Ichigo pulled the hood back, letting his tightly tucked hair spill loose down to his neck in a miniature explosion, eyes still cast firmly to the floor. Why is it so hard to reveal myself to my peers?

"Hey, I think I've seen you before," the wolfman said slowly.

Ichigo shrugged, not wanting to say anything. His hands were clenched firmly and unyielding in his lap.

"Would it help if we introduced ourselves?"

With a nod Ichigo confirmed it, still not wanting to speak.

"Well, you already know I'm Nel."

"You can call me Starrk," the wolfman said with a loud yawn.

"I'm Yoruichi," the cat lady told him. "Now what would your name be?"

Finding a sudden spark of bravery within him Ichigo lifted his head up, staring the cat woman directly in her yellow eyes.

"I'm Ichigo." He let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding with a hiss.

"Nice to meet you, Ichigo," Nel said with a smile. "I assume you're new to the world of curses?"

"Yeah. Just found out a month ago," he said, noticing that in his anxiety he was lisping his s again. To his utter relief no one seemed to notice, or at the very least didn't say anything.

"That sucks," Starrk muttered. "World just doesn't look the same afterwards, does it?"

"There's no need to be quite so negative, Starrk. You'll scare the poor boy off." Yoruichi clicked her tongue.

"I'm already scared enough, actually." Ichigo took one hand and squeezed the other in a death grip.

"It's okay, Ichigo. Groups like this are here to help," Nel said, and reached over to give Ichigo's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "The transformation is scary."

"Yeah." Ichigo felt the fear he'd been trying to tamp down since waking up with a snake tongue rising up inside him. "It feels like I'm losing control, but all the time. Like I never know when something's going to jumpscare me around the corner and take another piece of me away with it," he said slowly, gaining momentum as he began to vent. To stabilize himself he gripped the fabric of his sweater just over his heart. "Some days I wake up and wonder how many more times I'm going to do that while I'm still human. I look in the mirror and imagine all these different things that might happen to my face. Will it even be my face? Will it even be my body anymore? I don't fucking know," Ichigo wrung his hands, voice raising and lisp getting noticeably worse. "It feels like who I am is dying a slow death, but I can't be scared. I…I'm not allowed to be scared. Because then I'll have given in, and my friends and family will start worrying. I can't let them do that. Even when I wake up each day a little less human than the last. Fuck, it feels like my life is slipping away from me and there's nothing I can do. I hate being powerless like this."

He took a deep breath.

"And yeah, I have a fucking snake tongue now that for some stupid reason decides to start lisping whenever I get worked up. I think that's about it."

"You poor thing." Nel's voice was soft, almost like she was talking to a scared child, but Ichigo was so wound up after his confession he couldn't bring himself to care. "It's so unfair that you have to experience your body changing this way, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Ichigo pulled a little more at his sweater's hem. "You know, this is the first time I've told someone. Since I got the diagnosis, you know. I was hoping that maybe if I just kept ignoring everything it would go away on its own."

"As much as I wish it was, that's not how curses work," Nel said gently.

"Nel, I think we'll leave him to you?" Starrk grumbled, rising from his chair. "I'm not in the mood to deal with a scared little pup."

"I wouldn't put it quite that way, but Starrk is right. Nel, you've always been good with the new ones." Yoruichi's smile showed sharp teeth of a predator peering through her lips.

"Hmm…maybe it is better if Ichigo gets some one-on-one attention. See you later. And tell Tier why I'm not out, okay?"

"Will do."

The two Afflicted sat in silence while the other two left the room, the sudden sound of the door closing making Ichigo jump a little.

"So you've not told anyone about your curse yet?"

"No." Ichigo bit his lip, feeling the taste of blood from ripped skin fill his mouth. "I was hoping I could hide it. I don't want them to worry."

Nel gave a soft sigh. "Look, I don't know what your final form will be. No one does, until it comes. It always depends on the individual. Even if you inherited the curse from someone else it won't be the same form as theirs. How this curse works is that it takes the deepest recesses of our souls, what our soul closest resembles, and puts it on the outside. Each curse is utterly unique among everyone who has ever had one. But there is one thing I'm almost sure about. Whatever it is, you're not going to be able to hide it forever."

"Are you sure? If everyone's curse is different, maybe mine will just be a few small things that I can cover up and live my life like a normal human, or a normal gifted human anyway—"

"Honey." Nel looked Ichigo straight in the eyes, purple irises with rectangular pupils that seemed to see directly into his soul, straight to whatever beast it was that was coiled within its depths. "I said I didn't know what it was your curse would look like. I didn't say that meant you might get off lucky. The curse helps rewrite your genetics, and no one comes out of that looking passably human without immense amounts of effort."

Ichigo gulped. "You're…you're sure I can't just keep going?"

Nel shook her head. "It would be extremely unlikely. Something's going to give. The gifted share about ninety-eight percent genetics with regular humans. Me and most of the others after the curse is done, we're between forty five and sixty percent depending on how lucky we got. I don't know how much research you've done."

"Too much and not enough. I…kinda focused on finding a way to stop the curse and just kept reading how painful it all was. My doctor, she told me there wasn't a way out but I had to keep looking. I was desperate."

"I understand." Nel put her hand gently on Ichigo's, and while he wanted to recoil he stopped himself. She was surprisingly warm and comforting. "I'm assuming you inherited it?"

"Yeah." Ichigo found himself studying the floorboards, every fiber of him hating showing so much vulnerability but losing the battle against a month of fear.

"Then I'm afraid they're right. The only way out is acceptance."

"I don't want to accept it," Ichigo mumbled. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life as some half-human freak." Whoops. "No offense." His tongue darted out of his mouth again, his discomfort temporarily eroding his barricade against the instinct.

"None taken. I understand that you're upset."

"I just don't want to wake up one day with none of myself left."

"You won't. The curse doesn't change who you are in your heart, you know that?"

"I've heard it, but I have a hard time believing it."

"Well, it's true. Having inhuman instincts does not make you any less yourself, nor does the curse take any of your intelligence away."

Ichigo stood up, ripping his hand away from Nel's and suddenly feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed at his show of weakness. "Listen, I don't need comforting. I'm fine. I'll just spend the rest of my life hiding it. I'm not going to embrace the curse or whatever mumbo jumbo shit you guys are on about." Ichigo felt a serpentine hiss escape his lips, and he tried not to wince. Why had he ever thought coming to this meeting was a good idea?

"I understand if you're not ready to accept it yet. You seem quite early on in your progression. I admire you for opening up tonight, though."

"I didn't mean to," Ichigo snarled. Why his temper was all of a sudden flaring so high he wasn't quite sure, but he was feeling quite humiliated at letting his vulnerable side have control for so long. "You just manipulated me—"

"I didn't manipulate you, Ichigo."

"Forget my name and don't you dare ever use it again." The hissing was getting louder, rising in his chest and unwilling to be stopped.

"I didn't mean to force myself on you—you just looked lost and I wanted to help—"

"I don't need your fucking help!" With a sudden flash energy was roaring out of his core, black and twisting along his arms and sparking in his hair. It stung more than usual, prickling insistently and urging Ichigo to unleash himself, to destroy like he'd been born to do. It took all his self control and then some to tell it no.

Nel looked slightly frightened, perhaps the prey animal instincts of a horse telling her that Ichigo and his uncontrollable ability meant danger.

"Back away, then. I didn't ask for your petty comforts." He knew the words were rude as soon as he spoke them, black points of energy popping and sparking in front of his face. Part of him was dreading just how much energy it would take to restock his internal core after this.

"If you don't wish to discuss curses anymore, Ichigo, then feel free to leave." Nel sounded slightly hurt. "I won't force you to stay here. You've made your point. Please don't blow up Xcution because of something I said."

With two deep breaths Ichigo reluctantly brought the remnants of his outburst back into himself, noticing that all he'd really done was make a few scorch marks on his sweater and his bangs frizzy from the extra impact. The absence of even that small amount of energy was felt in his abysmal mood, though, but he wasn't willing to stay long enough to fix it.

"Fine. I'm going. Didn't want to be a part of your stupid meeting anyway." Without another word Ichigo turned on his heel and marched towards the door, trying to ignore the smell of burnt hair that followed.

He also ignored the incredulous looks of Yoruichi and Starrk on the way out, deliberately looking the other direction as he took long strides to the door. Suddenly the air in Xcution was suffocating, and he needed to get out.

Going outside after slamming the door shut behind him was a strange relief, the late summer air fresh in his lungs. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.

Now that he was out of Xcution he felt a little silly for blowing up like that. Nel had been nothing but kind, and he'd slapped her in the face. Sure, he hadn't intended on showing quite so much vulnerability, but he'd overreacted the other way.

Ichigo wanted to get as far away from the scene of his outburst as possible, walking in the direction of home as the sky began to be cast in a dusky shade. His already dour mood was made worse by the tangible feeling of loss in his energy core from his little hissy fit, a slight inadequacy that carried far more weight with him than it should have.

It seemed simultaneously forever and no time at all when he found himself standing in front of Shiba Clinic, the two-storey building looming above him as if to reprimand his foolish behaviour earlier.

His mind was still largely elsewhere, on what Nel had told him. Was it really true that he wouldn't be able to hide himself? What would be the change so awful that it would be the catalyst for the destruction of the life he'd so carefully put together?

The walk had served to calm him down a little bit, at least. He hated letting his sisters see him rattled, preferring to maintain the illusion of the unshakeable eldest child as long as possible before the curse stole that from him, too. Of course he was still on edge, a hair trigger more than enough to potentially set him off again. It had been almost a year since he'd accidentally let his own energy reserves leak like that, and mistakes tended to breed more mistakes like dominoes until any semblance of competence was completely and utterly destroyed. Of course they'd still be awake—it wasn't really that late—and would notice the remnants of his outburst. Ichigo knew his hair looked awful, and that he had little singe burns on his cheeks and hands that he could find when he ran his fingers along his palms. Not only was it technically illegal as far as they knew unless he'd been at the practice warehouse or Kaien's, the latter something that could be swiftly disproven, he knew such hallmarks of his ability gone awry would disappoint his sisters. They were his biggest cheerleaders when it came to the journey with his ability, and he hated to let them see the depths of his failure to rein it in.

Instead Ichigo just stood there for a little while, watching the light of the setting sun paint the white writing on the clinic's sign a rosy pink, trying to steel himself to walk inside.

Eventually he realized he couldn't spend all night standing outside; or rather, it would be unpleasant and unnecessary to do so. He couldn't put off his confrontation with his family forever, and slowly went to open the front door.

He'd only taken about ten sock-footed strides into the house before he found himself ambushed by his twin sisters, clustered together with looks of concern on their faces.

"Ichigo, we were worried—" Yuzu broke off when she got a glimpse of Ichigo's face. "Are you alright? You look terrible."

He hadn't yet gotten a good look in the mirror, but he didn't doubt it.

"Yikes, Ichigo. Did you have a fight with a firework or something?" Karin loomed behind her sister in the hallway, looking up and down Ichigo's singed body with disapproval.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he told them with a heavy sigh that suggested the words were far from entirely truthful. How many times was he going to say that before the curse took his humanity away? It felt like he'd already said it a hundred times since Unohana's diagnosis.

"Are you sure?" Yuzu had those puppy eyes again, the ones that always made Ichigo melt at the slightest contact.

Maybe she already has her ability, and it's making me bend at her every command.

"Yeah, Yuzu, I'm sure." For extra points Ichigo gave her a little smile.

"Do your eyebrows agree with that statement?" Karin quipped.

"What—" Oh. His eyebrows must have been caught in one of those little energy explosions. "I guess they don't look too good, do they?"

"You've been practicing your ability again, haven't you?"

Ichigo sighed. "You caught me. Didn't go super well. Obviously."

"You better not let Dad see," Karin warned. "If he finds out you've been practicing without supervision again—"

"He won't," Ichigo told her firmly. That absence in his core was gnawing away again. "I'm going to go wash up, kay?"

"You should eat dinner first," Yuzu admonished. "It's long past cold, Ichigo, and it's not good to starve yourself."

"Nah, I'd rather clean up first."

"You should eat," Yuzu repeated, looking up into Ichigo's face with a look of such firm conviction that he couldn't help but oblige her.

Ichigo tried to eat Yuzu's proferred curry as quickly as possible, straining to hear the audio cues coming from the living room that told him that Isshin was watching the evening programming. He wasn't sure exactly what would come out of his father seeing the mess he'd made of himself, but he was definitely not in the mood to find out.

Instead he dumped his dish quickly in the sink and slunk upstairs to the bathroom, using the mirror to assess the damage in full.

It was about as bad as could be expected, but things could be worse. At least there wasn't a muzzle looking back at him.

Aggressively Ichigo shook the tube of aloe, squeezed out a few glistening green drops on his finger and leaned in to examine the angry red marks, remnants from where his energy had popped and singed him in the face. The cool feel of the aloe on his skin was welcome after the stinging night air.

Karin really hadn't been kidding about his eyebrows; their fine ginger strands were patchy and ragged, almost as bad as his frizzy bangs. It looked like he'd shoved his face into a hot pizza oven. He could hear Uryū's tart laughter over how awful he looked in his ears already.

Tentatively he rubbed the leftover aloe on the reddish scorch marks on the back of his hands, trying to ignore his fingers' minute trembling. The images of what had happened that evening kept flashing through his mind's eye at rapid speed and gave him a sinking suspicion of exactly why.

He felt nauseous, almost like he had that evening with Uryu. His head hurt, but that was so commonplace now he barely even registered it. The emotions were spinning around in his head so fast he was getting dizzy: unsure whether to be ashamed that he'd been so vulnerable in front of cursed strangers, or that he'd nearly blown a wall of their lounge out, or that half the time during the meeting he'd mentally referred to the afflicted in his mind as 'like me.' They were all horrible to process, but each was equally true. All three haunted him on his way into his bedroom.

So he'd slipped up and gotten a little wild with his ability. That was the most easily addressed of the three problems. It was an accident. He was still underage and unregistered, meaning he at the very least had an excuse. Shinji wouldn't be pleased when he found out, but it was a thankfully rare occurrence.

When it came to opening up to Nel, well, that was a bit more difficult to rationalize in his head. It had been beyond stupid but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it now. Plus, he'd done a one-eighty and been a complete ass to a perfectly sweet woman who had wanted nothing more than to help her own kind—

"Fucking stop it, Ichigo!" He snarled to himself, voice raising more than he'd have liked. That third problem had no business even being on the list in the first place. Angrily he pulled at his frizzy hair, hand placed firmly on his forehead. The glass of water on his bedside table wobbled nervously as his hand brushed it in his aggravated movement. His face was buried in warm and sweaty palms, breath heaving.

Why was it that a stupid but completely concealable tongue had all of a sudden altered his way of thinking? It didn't make him an afflicted. Not like those weirdos and freaks he'd met at Xcution.

But then, for about five minutes, in his mind he had been. He could even remember referring to himself as one with them, like them, himself an afflicted.

Angrily Ichigo started picking at the corner of his index fingernail, a faint savage hope that he'd rip into the skin and draw blood. It would be a fitting punishment for the multilayered stupidity he'd shown that night.

"I'm not cursed," he muttered, as if by somehow saying it aloud he would make it true. "I'm not cursed. I'm not going to end up looking like them."