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A Shadow of What Was	By : katami Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 49594 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Author's Notes: I don't know about everyone else, but I missed Kisuke. Also, if anyone has some good news to share I would love to hear it. I lost a pet this weekend so I am not a happy little critter. This chapter is for my little Usagi. She might have been a brat, but she was my baby and I loved her.

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Kisuke staggered unsteadily into the darkened living room, glad neither of his parents were home. There would have been awkward questions and stares he wasn�t ready to face. He stumbled, catching himself against the wall only at the last minute, leaving a bloody handprint as a testament to his passage. He would have to clean that, a dim part of his mind noted, the rest of it was still numb with shock, still trying to process what it was he had done.

A soft voice murmured something and the room exploded in light as millions of white threads encircled him, binding his arms to his body and trapping him. Kisuke struggled within their wrappings, his limbs still shaking and his eyes wild. He felt the numbness start to slip into his veins and grew frantic in his struggles. �Lemme go! Lemme go! Please! Oh god, please! You have to let me go!

�Calm down. Calm down. I�m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk to you,� soothed the dark haired man from earlier in the day, stepping from the shadows into the light cast by the threads. �I�m not going to hurt you, Hideaki.� His face was earnest and his voice calm and gentle, as if he was speaking to a wide animal; but Kisuke didn't care. All he cared about was getting loose. He had to get loose, had to get away before whatever sleeping dragon inside him was roused. He didn�t want to hurt this man, didn't want to hurt anyone. "Please, you don't know what I can do, what I've done. Please, you have to let me go," he begged desperately, his breathing growing strained and harsh.

"Shh...Calm down. Just calm down and breathe. I'll let you go, I promise. Just hold still a second," soothed the man. The threads released him and Kisuke sagged and would have fallen, but the dark haired man moved and quickly caught him. "Here, just sit down for a second." He was gently steered to a chair and lowered into it, the dark haired man kneeling next to him, studying him with concern. "There. It's okay, Hideaki. I'm not going to hurt you."

Gentle fingers traced the cut on his chest, examining it. "You should get this looked at. It's not deep, which is good, but it's awfully long. What happened?"

Kisuke glanced down and as if awakening from a stupor realized that his shirt was in ruins and the cut on his chest was still sluggishly bleeding from a few small spots where the claw had cut deeper. There was grit and dust covering him as well the blood. He was almost amazed no one had stopped him on the street. "I was fighting," he mumbled softly.

"Well, let's get you cleaned up and then I'll take a look at that cut for you." Kisuke nodded and let himself be lead from the living room to the bathroom. He blushed faintly at the sight of the shower, the dream from earlier in the afternoon rising eagerly in his memory. The other man didn't seem to notice and Kisuke was grateful when he turned on the shower and stepped outside, closing the door. "I'll bring you some clothes. Just get cleaned up."

Kisuke nodded before he realized that the other man couldn't see him. He tugged off his ruined shirt and pants, wondering what in the world he was going to do with them. His parents were bound to notice if he threw them out and that would lead to questions he couldn't answer.

His parents were usually happy enough to give him his freedom, mostly since he had been doing calculus and reading theoretical physics since the age of ten, but they wouldn't turn a blind eye to their only son coming home bloody. Ditching class was one thing, getting into fights was something else entirely. And trying to explain about the hollows...the very idea gave him a headache.

Neither of his parents saw ghosts. When he had been little and told them about the ghosts, they had scolded him for making up stories. He had stopped talking about the things he knew his parents wouldn't want to hear after that. He didn't have the slightest idea of how they would react to learning that their boy was still seeing dead people, but his hunch was not well - of the drugs and doctors and mental wards variety.

He shoved those concerns from his mind and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water pelt his back for a few moments while he tried to reorient himself. It had been a very long and strange day and it didn't look to be ending any time soon - a pity since he would have enjoyed a week or so to get his head back together.

"Who is that strange man in your bedroom?" demanded Midori, appearing in front of him and making him jump, squeak, and try desperately to cover himself. Not that it would do any good, Midori had seen it all before. Damn nosy ghost.

"Get out!" He hissed, trying to shoo her with one hand while covering himself with the other.

"Everything alright?" called the dark haired man.

"Fine!" He glared at Midori, relieved when she took the hints and floated through the shower door.

"Don't do that! And I don't know who he is! I don't know what's going on! I don't know anything! All I know is something's wrong with me and I have to do something about it before I hurt someone," he whispered to Midori in a heated rush, growing cold and frightened as he finished. Tears spilled down his cheeks and he wiped at them angrily, for once wishing that he could just be normal.

"Oh pet, there's nothing wrong with you," whispered Midori, floating back through the door to gently touch his cheek. "You're the same sweet boy you always were, Kisuke-chan. Hush. There, there. No need for tears, pet," she soothed, invoking her childhood nickname for him, making him sniffle and smile at her.

"I'm scared. I'm remembering things I never did and doing things I shouldn't be able to do. What's happening to me?" he asked with a sort of lost desperation.

"You're just growing up, pet. You're special, you know that and I know that. There's nothing wrong with being special, Kisuke-chan." Ghostly arms wrapped him in a loose hug and for a moment he was wrapped in another set of arms, these ones strong and sure, protecting him and keeping him safe. He closed his eyes to better capture the memory and let the warmth of it soak through him. In the memory he was right where he belonged, he was home, and he desperately wanted that feeling now.

Slowly he opened his eyes, giving Midori a small, watery smile. "I need to get cleaned up. Will you keep an eye on our guest?" She nodded, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead before disappearing.

He finished washing quickly, wincing as soap touched the cut on his chest, but figuring soap had to be better than dirt. He toweled off, wrapping it around his waist and cautiously opened the door to find a fresh pair of his sweats waiting. He slid on the bottoms but emerged carrying the top, no point it putting it on just to take it off again when the dark haired man looked at his chest.

He found the other man in the kitchen, kettle going and the first aid kit on the table. "Your ghost told me where the first aid kit was," murmured the man with a rueful smile. Midori appeared behind him, blushing faintly.

"You can see them? Ghosts?" asked Kisuke, all thoughts of the cut or anything else vanishing. He had never met another person who could see ghosts and suddenly all he wanted to do was talk about it, explore this part of his life that he had never been allowed to share. To know that he wasn't alone in the world, that he was normal at least in someone's eyes.

"Of course I can see them," answered the man, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"What are you?" breathed Kisuke eagerly. Finally, here was someone who understood, someone like him.

"Oh! Ishida Uryuu, the last of the Quincy. And you are Mizuno Hideaki, right?" asked the Quincy, pushing his glasses up his nose. His tone said he knew he was right and Kisuke had to smile at the arrogance of it.

He shook his head. "My name's not Hideaki. It's Kisuke. Mizuno Kisuke."

For a moment Ishida looked as if he'd been punched in the gut, his face drained of all color and he stumbled to a chair, staring at Kisuke as if he'd seen a ghost. "Kisuke?" he stammered softly, before he started laughing, it wasn't a happy laugh though, there was a desperate sort of pained edge to it. "How did I miss...it's like looking into a fucking picture."

"Ishida-san?" he asked cautiously, suddenly nervous.

"I'm alright, Mizuno-kun, just a bit of a shock is all. Like having someone point out that you missed the pink elephant standing in the middle of the room." The Quincy shook his head, pushed up his glasses and stood, seemly more like himself. "Sit down and we'll see to your cut."

"What pink elephant? What are you talking about?" demanded Kisuke, sensing somehow that answers to so many of his questions were within reach. A glare and a pointed look to the chair made him sit but he still stared determinedly at Ishida. He would not be put off.

"It's complicated, and most of it is ancient history, long before your time. You just look a great deal like someone I knew long ago. It was simply shocking to realize how much," murmured the Quincy, going to work on his chest with skilled, confident hands. The man had medical training Kisuke guessed; he was also lying. He hadn't noticed anything until Kisuke had said his name.

"You're lying,. you didn't react until I told you my name. You know something. Something about me." He saw blue eyes widen behind the glasses and felt a deeply buried flash of annoyance; he wasn't stupid. Young, yes; but no one had ever accused him of stupidity.

The Quincy sighed, "You always were too smart for your own good. As for what I know, I told you, it's complicated and a great deal of it would be conjecture at the moment. Why don't we start with what you know and I can try filling in the gaps as they arise?"

Kisuke shook hid head, hissing as a gauze pad with alcohol gently cleaned his cut. "I don't know what I know. It's all jumbled up in my head. I get...I get these...flashes, memories maybe, but they aren't mine and I don't understand them. I know about the Shinigami and the hollows, but not much.

"I can do things," he admitted softly, a tremor of fear in his voice. "Things....I can fight. I've always just known how, how to take a punch, how to dodge, where to hit. And earlier...," he began trembling again, gripping the chair tightly to try and still the shaking of his limbs. "It was a hollow. I slipped and...and something...happened. I was saying all these things and then I...I shot lightning at it and then these swords...and this black box of energy formed around it... I killed it! I killed it," he explained in a frantic rush, as if afraid that pausing would cause the words to get stuck and he would never be able to let them out. Never be able to explain what he had done, to purge it from his psyche.

He saw the instant Ishida absorbed his words and the shock the Quincy tried to mask. He really was too smart for his own good, he thought morosely, his eyes prickling. What was he that even the Shinigami and their allies thought him a monster?

The Quincy cursed softly but warm arms settled lightly around his shoulders, loose enough that he didn�t feel trapped but silently offering comfort and support, making Kisuke glance at the older man in surprise. Dark blue eyes met his and Kisuke was surprised to find there was compassion in them. Ishida understood how frightened and confused he was, how strange it all was. What was more, he wanted to help. He let the other man hold him for a second, taking what comfort he could before shifting his weight just a fraction, it was enough the Ishida knew he was ready to be turned loose.

The Quincy straightened and gave him a small, tired sigh. "I shouldn't be the one explaining things to you, Kisuke. I'm not sure what is best to tell you and what should wait. But I can try. You need to calm down though. You didn't do anything wrong. Understand?"

He nodded, earning a faint smile from the Quincy. They both jumped when the kettle whistled and Kisuke quickly fixed them both some tea, the routine of it helping to soothe his nerves and even the scent of the tea calmly familiar.

"What you did was something called kidou. It's a type of magic. Shinigami use it sometimes. They prefer swinging swords around but even the most brash and impetuous of them can manage a few simple spells," murmured the Quincy, his voice warm and amused. Kisuke guessed he was thinking about the redheaded man he had been with earlier.

"There's nothing strange or unnatural about you using it." Except he wasn't a Shinigami; but Kisuke decided the comfort of the half lie was more reassuring than whatever truth he could badger out of Ishida. The truth would likely only hurt, and while he had never let a little pain steer him away from things before, he was feeling just a little too fragile to cope with any more pain at that moment.

"As for the rest, I think I'd like to talk to some friends of mine, perhaps have you come with me to talk to them?" he ventured tentatively. Kisuke studied him carefully, not sure what to say. If he went with Ishida he could be trapped or killed. He had only the Quincy's word that they just wanted to talk. He trusted the other man though, his instincts said Ishida was a good man and wouldn't betray him or see him hurt.

"Just talk? And I can leave whenever I want?" Life had taught him that clarification and asking the right questions was key. Kisuke danced merry cob around other people's rules precisely because no one ever thought to spell things out clearly and concisely.

Ishida nodded, frowning slightly and cocking his head as if listening for something. A moment later Kisuke thought he knew what had caught the older man's attention. There was a spike of energy, it was a long ways off but powerful.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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A Shadow of What Was