Adult-FanFiction.org : Bleach

A Quincy's Heart	By : ShadowedInnocence Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Ichigo/Ishida Views: 3686 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, and I do not make anything off of my stories. I just use the characters to do my bidding in a plot that comes to mind.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
AN: This will be a tale that will have many one sided pairings, but it will mainly focus on the pairing of Ichigo/Uryū. This goes extremely AU quite a bit before chapter 341, so things will really be twisted to my own liking.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any Bleach characters, and if I did things would definitely be quite a bit different.
Sickness
Sounds of someone stumbling along the halls of the now quiet floor first had drawn Uryū’s attention to the door of the classroom that he was currently working in. Who exactly would be still here at this time, instead of being somewhere else? Glancing at the clock, he noticed that it was three o’ clock. There were fifteen minutes before he would decide to get up and go back to his apartment, fifteen minutes that he had time to get closer to finish hat he was working on in front of him.
“Ishida-kun!” Orihime called out as she slammed the door open, looking worse for wear. Her hair was frazzled around her, and her usually kind, cheerful eyes looked almost to the point of tears. “Ishida-kun?” she queried softly, seeing that the Quincy wasn’t paying attention to her, at least that’s what she thought.
“What is it Inoue-san?” Uryū asked, glancing up briefly. He noticed her frazzled, tearful expression, and his thoughts quickly went to who usually caused this tumult of emotions within the young woman. Sighing, he placed the scissors that he held within his hands down before edging into his next question. “What has Kurosaki done now?” he asked coolly, wondering briefly if he would have to knock some sense into the shinigami once more in one of the only ways he knew how to. If he did, he had some planning to do.
“W-what Kurosaki-kun did? Ishida-kun, do you even know what’s happened to him?” Orihime asked incredulously, finding the lack of concern for her secret crush disconcerting. With what Ichigo was going through, they all had a lot to worry about.
Raising a brow, he placed the needle and thread that he was about to pick up aside. “So something happened to Kurosaki? What did he get himself into this time?” he asked, actually interested in what could be happening to the substitute shinigami. He had realized that Kurosaki Ichigo had not been in school today, but he paid it no heed. There was nothing to really be worried about; he could have skipped for one reason or another. What seemed the most plausible was that he came down with a cold—it was almost the middle of December, snow was on the ground and it was quite cold. From what he had learned about Kurosaki, he usually came down with some sort of illness during the winter months.
Orihime looked like she was about to burst into tears any second. Clenching her hands together in front of her, she glanced at him hopefully before turning her gaze elsewhere. “H-he’s sick. He won’t let any of us get near him. I want to help Ichigo-kun, but if I can’t get close enough to help him, how can I even be of help?” Orihime asked dejectedly, glancing down at her feet.
Uryū scoffed. It was just like Kurosaki to leave others worrying about his wellbeing. “Will he even let Rukia or Urahara-san near him?” Some of the clues dealing with Kurosaki Ichigo’s disappearance today were starting to add up. To his annoyance, the big picture was still missing, and he strongly wished to know what it was.
She shook her head. “No, Kurosaki-kun won’t let anyone go near him.” She answered shortly, before she was cut off again.
Pushing up his glasses onto the bridge of his nose in a practiced motion, he briefly toyed with the idea of actually asking Urahara what was really going on with the substitute shinigami; he always knew more than he should have anyways. Before he could do anything, he was roused from his thoughts by Orihime’s voice.
“Ishida-kun, could you check up on him? Kurosaki-kun wouldn’t expect you to do something like that, so he might actually let you in.” she said softly as she glanced up, tears brimming her eyes. “Onegai…would you do it as a favor to me?”
Wincing internally, he schooled his features into a blank mask. He knew that the girl knew that he was fond of her, and to ask something like that of him—it was as if it was her personal form of torture. Orihime wasn’t the type to do so of course, but his mind couldn’t help but to equate this situation with it. “Inoue-san, Kurosaki will be fine.” Uryū reassured the saddened girl before turning his attention back to what he was working on previously. He needed to get this part of the costume finished before the end of the week if it was going to be of any use to him. This week was going to be busy enough; he didn’t need to complicate things by slacking off and giving him more work when he didn’t need it. To his surprise, his hand was grabbed tightly and he could feel himself being tugged out of his seat.
“That’s what you don’t get Ishida-kun; even Urahara-san said he was really sick. Something’s the matter and even Shun’ō and Ayame can’t help! What’s even odder about this whole thing was that he was asking for you, Uryū-kun!” she cried out, causing the archer to freeze in his tracks.
Kurosaki had asked for him in particular? Just what in the hell was going through the strawberry’s head to even do something so ludicrous? Why would Kurosaki do something so odd, especially for him? His head spun, trying to piece together exactly what he was just told by his classmate. None of this made sense, and what had begun to make sense to him before was now being reduced into bits and pieces of what it once was. If figures, this day has been nothing but a bad one. Damn you Kurosaki for making it worse! Shaking himself from his thoughts, a deep sigh welled up from his chest. He just knew that things were going to be incredibly troublesome now, especially when he didn’t know what he was getting into at all. He needed to speak to Urahara, but he had the sinking feeling that the exiled shinigami would tell him anything of worth to him.
For this, he’d have to venture in blindly. It was something he was used to doing, but the situation that called for it was something that really brought a whole new level of confusion to him. He knew that he wouldn’t do this for any other shinigami; the only one that had managed to capture both his attention and his respect was one being; his classmate and the substitute shinigami Kurosaki Ichigo. Internally, he knew that it would be a cold day in hell before he ever told this to the teen, but it gave him some comfort in actually admitting that Kurosaki held more worth to him than he first let on. It was a slight reprieve that he got from the torment of his mind, but it was one that he savored all the same.
********
Shaded grey eyes stared out at the snowy scene before them with sympathy. There was nothing worse than having to go through what the orange haired teen was currently going though, plus the underlying problem beneath—it would simply prove to be hell for anyone involved. As much as he wanted to help the teen, he most likely would’ve been filleted by Isshin’s zanpakuto when he finally realized what he had done to actually help his ailing son. No matter how alluring Kurosaki Ichigo could be on a daily basis, there was one thing that kept him away at an arm’s length. For one that had experienced more than others, he had a strong attachment to his life—what was left of it anyways.
A wide smirk stretched across his features at the thought. The teen didn’t even have the first clue as to how much attention he had garnered from both the male and female species ever since he had stormed seireitei. It was quite amusing to see just how hard many had tried to grasp a hold in Kurosaki-kun’s attention, only to find that they couldn’t hold it for a sufficient amount of time. Only a few that he could think of that had actually held Ichigo’s attention and kept it were Rukia, Orihime, Renji, Byakuya, Grimmjaw, Kenpachi, Ulquiorra, and Ishida. As much as the Quincy wanted to object to the fact that he didn’t view the substitute in a way that suggested anything other than hatred, he knew otherwise. There was something there, something that the archer didn’t want others to see.
“You won’t be sneaking around with what you’re feeling for too longer Ishida-kun. It’s about time that you told him, anyways.” With a spring in his step, Urahara deposited a wrapped package on top of Ichigo’s desk before he left, heading back to the shōten. He had set the stage for whomever that came to check up on the teen to help him, but there was a nagging feeling that he had—one that told him that he knew just exactly would come. After all, telling Orihime-san everything, there would only be one person that she would try to get to check up on her secret crush.
********
To Ichigo, his sleep wasn’t as peaceful as it should be. White hot torrents of pain had taken hold of him, rippling through his senses and eating away at his nerves. He had never been poisoned to such a degree that this would be the result, but he could vaguely equate the pain that he was currently experiencing to a poison that ate away at almost everything in sight.
The air in his room felt cool, yet it gave the flushed teen little comfort as he struggled to find a peaceful slumber. Curling into himself as a sharp spike of pain struck the base of his skull, Ichigo inched his way closer to the wall that he had his back to previously. With a low whine, he pressed his face against the cold paneling, searching for relief of any kind. Unfortunately, he would not have a reprieve for long.
“Ngh…Where’s th’ ice a’?” he slurred out, opening bleary bronze eyes. With how dark his room now was he couldn’t see much in his current condition. Prompted by the sting of pain as the light from his alarm clock finally registered within his mind, he groaned pitifully as it made the throbbing in his head all the more worse. In his muddled mind, he briefly wondered why it felt like someone was taking a nail and hammering it into his skull.
Ichigo was no novice when it came to the pain that migraines caused. In fact, they were something that he had gotten so often in the past four years before he even became a substitute shinigami that he had been diagnosed with a pretty bad case of them, and to his horrible luck, they weren’t just caused by an outside stimulus. For years, Urahara Kisuke had treated him with high level doses of reiatsu and painkillers along the lines of vicodin for the regular human. What he got wasn’t for the normal human though. He was beyond normal now. The early signs of his shinigami heritage had hit him hard and fast, leaving him hardly anything more than a breathless, pain filled shell of what he really was.
Urahara—where was Urahara at? He could help him. Grumbling in frustration, he knew that he had felt the shopkeeper in his house just a little while ago, so where had he gone and run off to? It was too much work to try to think about things, especially with the overwhelming heat that was starting to creep through his limbs. He was getting hot, and it was centering from somewhere in his lower belly.
This was a feeling that he normally labeled as lust, but he found that at the moment, that was the least of his worries. There wasn’t that burning, consuming need for release—this was almost the complete opposite. Ichigo could feel no arousal, just a burning ache that welled up within him. It was an ache that needed to be snuffed out if he ever was to sleep peacefully again.
What had started as a slow burn in his limbs turned into a downright fire that was lapping at his skin. The only other time that he had experienced such a draining, painful condition was after the whole hollow bait thing with Ishida. His muddled thoughts had completely stopped at that single thought. Wasn’t it that thinking about the uptight Quincy when he had begun to feel the telltale signs of reiatsu withdrawal? That’s what more than likely spurred his angry thoughts on, making things a hell of a lot harder for him. Clenching his eyes shut, Ichigo pressed more of his body against the wall, faintly noticing the contrast between his flushed, overheated skin and the cold wall. Groaning in frustration as what relief that he had previously gotten from the cold assaulting his senses, the teen whimpered pitifully as both heat and another wave of pain latched onto his already frayed nerves. How could that be if it was below freezing outside and there was snow on the ground? Writhing around on his bed, Ichigo gave a pained sigh as he fell back into the realm of unconsciousness.
********
What was he doing here again? He shouldn’t have even tried to step anywhere near this house, yet his feet were leading him to it without a second thought. It wasn’t just because Inoue-san had asked him to check up on the shinigami, it was what she said about Urahara that had roused his interest. That man only was involved with things if they would eventually turn out to be incredibly important, and he had the sinking feeling that the exiled captain was meddling in something that he had no reason to even take part in. Something was amiss, and if the increase in the fluctuation of Kurosaki’s reiatsu was anything to go by, something actually was wrong with him.
Pausing in front of the front door, Uryū was surprised to find that it was indeed unlocked. No matter how much Ichigo got under his skin, he knew that the one that he saw as a rival wouldn’t leave the door unlocked when he was in such a vulnerable state. He wasn’t one for unneeded injuries, no matter how much he might seem like the opposite when he was in battle. Someone had already been here, one that knew how to mask the traces of their reiatsu to a point where it would take some serious concentration to point out who exactly it was. Sighing, he closed the door behind him without a second thought as he took off his shoes. Hanging his coat and scarf up on a hook beside the door, he hesitated for a minute before he crept along the first floor of the silent house, feeling no need to make more noise than he had to.
His steps were light as he ascended the stairs, paying more attention to the way that the usual bright blue of Kurosaki’s reiatsu was turning into the black tinged with red that he normally had when he was in his bankai state. This made no sense at all to him, especially because he knew for a fact that the teen was in his human body, the telltale signs of his unrestrained reiatsu was still there, but when he was in his real body; it was just a bit more reeled in. What he could sense now—it was mind boggling. The utter pain, oppressing heat, and desperation that were laced within the normally wild reiatsu had him frozen in both shock and wonder.
Uryū didn’t even notice when he was in front of Ichigo’s closed bedroom door until he felt an uncontrolled surge of reiatsu assaulting his senses. Reeling back from the intense pressure, he pressed his hand back against the doorknob as he awaited another strong push, waiting for the sign that he wasn’t wanted here once more. He didn’t receive it, and in the back of his mind, he wondered why the raging tempo of Kurosaki’s reiatsu had calmed just a bit.
“Kurosaki, what in kami’s name is going on here?” Ishida asked coolly, finding the whole situation something to be less than desired. There was just too much that could go wrong with the beacon of spiritual energy that he was giving off—he was already suspicious because he hadn’t even ran into one single hollow on the way here.
Entering the room, the bespectacled teen let out a surprised gasp. The room was hot, almost unbearably so. Was it because of the concentration of Kurosaki’s reiatsu? His attention was grabbed by the pained groan that was emitted from the figure on the bed. Sapphire eyes took in Ichigo’s appearance, his brow furrowing in slight concern. There wasn’t much that would bring the orange haired teen to his knees like this, especially considering how he bounced back most of the time. Something was incredibly wrong here, and he didn’t even know if Urahara would be of help anymore. The traces of hollow reiatsu entwined with Kurosaki’s own was something that was really starting to bug him. Instead of it clashing with the substitute’s own spiritual energy, it just meshed and molded within it.
“Kurosaki?” he ventured again, this time softer than his first question. There was no doubt that his classmate was in a lot of pain, and he didn’t want to try anything risky with the hollow reiatsu that was lashing out briefly before returning to mesh and work together with Ichigo’s own spiritual energy.
Groaning softly, Ichigo turned his head, blearily opening his eyes to stare that the intruder in his room. What had startled Ishida the most about this whole scenario was Ichigo’s eyes. Instead of the bronze eyes that he had come to associate with Ichigo alone, his gaze was met with molten gold eyes that stood out against an inky black sclera. A shudder of suppressed horror ran down his spine. Those eyes reminded him of a hollow’s eyes.
Managing a pained smile, Ichigo made a move to reach out to him. “Uryū, you came.” He tiredly said, the hollow like warble of his tone not escaping the archer’s attention.
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

A Quincy's Heart