Insomnia (chapter 3)
DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
Author: SilverKytten
Title: Insomnia (chapter 3)
Rating: PG-13 (overall NC-17)
Pairing: IchigoxRenji
Warnings: Yaoi, language, angst, spoilers
Summary: When you carry world on your shoulders, who’s left to catch you when you fall? (previous chapters)
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. All characters associated with the series are the property of Tite Kubo; I am simply borrowing them for my own amusement.
Liability
Something sharp jabbed him in the ribs and Ichigo jerked upright, realizing that he’d been nodding off again. In the desk beside him, Rukia tucked a pencil back under her notebook and refocused her attention on the teacher droning away at the front of the room. Ichigo yawned, scrubbing his face with his hands. It wasn’t enough that he had the fate of the world to worry about; Rukia was still making him go to school. Other than a few sporadic and disastrous occasions, none of the other shinigami spent much time around there anymore. Hell, Renji had still been asleep when he’d left this morning, shutting his bedroom door tight and hoping he had enough sense to leave through the window. He was fairly certain that Karin was at school, but there was no need to run the risk of being spotted his overly spirit aware sister.
He slipped a hand into his pocket, tracing the lines of the communicator and wondering again if he should have left it. When Renji had shown no signs of waking he’d hastily scribbled a note about his decision, dropped the device in his pocket and run out to meet Rukia before she could come looking for him.
He shifted in his seat, trying to concentrate on the flood of historical references wafting monotonously from the front of the room, but his mind kept drifting back to the events of the past two days. First there had been the lap incident; he still didn’t understand what had possessed either himself or Renji but he’d come to terms with it. Then there was the whole mess last night, which could have been chalked up to the same weirdness as the lap thing if not for the touching. Ichigo stared hard at his notebook, pen digging a grove into the soft paper. What the hell could have been so fascinating about a couple of damn tattoos that he couldn’t help reaching out to touch them? He’d known that the lack of sleep was starting to affect his judgment, but he hadn’t realized it had gotten this bad.
The rest of the day was a blur; teachers droning, people chattering, Rukia lecturing him about both needing to sleep and needing to stay awake. By the time the final class let out, the noises had all faded together and he’d stopped paying attention to any of it. He could hear Rukia speaking as they made their way outside, but he couldn’t work up the energy to decipher the sounds. All he could think about was getting home where he could find some peace and quiet. He also needed to find a way to return Renji’s communicator without having to answer any awkward questions about how he’d gotten it. This meant that he’d have to seek the other man out personally.
This last problem was made simpler as they stepped through the front doors and found Renji waiting for them, leaning against a wall in his gigai. Ichigo frowned, unsure whether he should feel relieved or uneasy at the sudden appearance.
“What are you doing here, Renji?” Rukia had finally stopped peppering Ichigo with questions long enough to notice the new arrival.
“Nothin’ much, just in the area.” His eyes left her to drift to Ichigo.
Ichigo stared back incredulously. “Is that my shirt?”
Renji ran a hand across his stomach, smirking. “You guys are always givin’ me so much crap about my clothes that I figured I’d try something new.”
“That’s not new, it’s just stolen!” Ichigo stormed, stomping towards the other man. “Who the hell said you could use my clothes?”
“You’re the one who started the whole borrowin’ thing so I didn’t think you’d mind.” Renji commented, shrugging off the wall as Ichigo came within striking distance.
The younger man seemed to stall at that, the communicator burning a guilty hole in his pocket. “Yeah, well…”
“I think it looks good,” Renji continued, overruling Ichigo’s complaints. “Bit tight, though.”
“That’s ‘cause I’m not a fat ass,” the young shinigami shot back, finding his outrage once again.
“Hm, I was thinkin’ it’s ‘cause you’re not a real man.” Renji mused, tugging at the hem.
Ichigo drew a breath to launch into a new tirade but was cut off when Rukia’s hand connected with the back of his head.
“Don’t you two have anything better to do than fight all the time?” she stormed, glaring at both of them before rounding on Ichigo. “How can you have so much energy to argue when you couldn’t keep your eyes open all day?”
She stood there, tapping her foot impatiently, seeming to expect some sort of answer. Ichigo just stared down at her, the fatigue settling over him once again. Finally, having realized that no reply would be forthcoming, she pivoted on one foot and marched off towards home, grumbling loudly about senseless displays of male aggression.
“I better catch up or she’ll come back for me,” Ichigo sighed, fishing the communicator out of his pocket and passing it back to Renji. “Sorry if taking it was a problem.”
“It‘s fine, I coulda come and gotten’ it if I needed to.” Renji fell into step next to him.
“I want my shirt back, by the way,” Ichigo muttered, shooting him a look out of the corner of his eye.
“What - now?” The older man raised an eyebrow.
“No, not now, idiot, just sometime. Knowing you, you’ll probably try to keep it.” He glared at the redhead.
Renji just snorted and rolled his eyes “Like I need a bunch of clothes that don’t fit. Your pants come halfway up my shins; I didn’t realize you were so short.”
“What the fuck, Renji? Stay out of my clothes!” Ichigo rounded on him. “And I’m not short, you’re just freakishly tall.”
“Don’t look that way from here.” Renji smirked down at him.
Ichigo scowled, trying to come up with something emotionally devastating to wipe that look off of his face but Renji waved him off.
“I was gonna see if you were up for a little trainin’, but if this lame-ass shit’s all you can come up with you must really be tired.”
“Bastard, I’ll show you who’s tired.” Ichigo was bristling, his reiatsu rising slowly beneath the surface as he glared at the retreating back.
“Maybe another time,” Renji called over his shoulder. He was still smirking but this time it didn’t reach his eyes.
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Ichigo slammed his door shut and threw himself onto his bed. His day had been going steadily downhill since he’d first walked out the door that morning. First there were the endless lectures about school from Rukia, a girl at least four times his age who didn’t belong in his class in the first place. Then, when he’d finally escaped that hell hole he’d had to face Renji. Not the normal abrasive, competitive Renji, but a new, seemingly concerned Renji. Having Renji give him that look while making excuses not to fight was ten times more insulting than anything the other man had ever said to him. If that wasn’t bad enough he’d gotten into an argument with his father over dinner, which wasn’t unusual, but this time he’d lost his temper and cursed at the man in front of his sisters and Rukia. He hated it when that happened because it meant his control was slipping and he couldn’t afford that.
He rolled over and stared at the ceiling, trying to will himself to fall asleep, but it was no use. It wasn’t even fully dark yet. He sat up irritably and pulled the curtains shut. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine soothing things like the ocean, laying around in the grass, or the way his mother had sung him lullabies when he was a kid. He’d tried this before, of course, and it was always the same. The ocean came to crush him, the grass was stained with the blood of his friends, and his mother was always, always screaming. He screwed his eyes shut against the sounds and images playing in his head. After thirty minutes of this he shot out of bed, swearing viciously as he reached for his shinigami substitute badge. He paused briefly, considering the thing before changing his mind and shoving it into his pocket. Making his way down the stairs he headed for the door, calling over his shoulder to anyone who cared to listen that he was going out.
Urahara’s shop was quiet when he arrived but the lights were still on so he pushed the door open. When he didn’t encounter anyone up front he ventured further in, headed towards the rooms in the back. Not bothering to knock, he reached forward and slid one of the doors aside, staring blankly into the empty chamber.
“If you’re looking for Abarai-kun he’s in the basement.” Urahara’s voice floated to him from the end of the hall.
Ichigo turned and found the man leaning against the wall, studying him from beneath the ever present hat. “Oh, thanks.”
He started forward but Urahara caught his arm, bringing him closer for inspection. “You don’t look well, Kurosaki-kun.”
“Neither do you, Urahara-san.” He shrugged out of the gentle grip, moving down the hall towards the basement.
It wasn’t hard to find Renji, even in that monstrously huge space, because he had Zabimaru out in his final release. Ichigo just stood there for a few minutes, watching that writhing form coil and strike, the skeletal head popping up now and then to spot a target. He finally shoved his hands into his pockets and began trudging in the direction of the dust cloud that now housed both man and beast.
Renji pulled in his attacks as Ichigo came into view, eyeing him warily over the slowly shifting mass between them. “I ain’t gonna fight you, if that’s why you’re here.”
He had that look in his eyes again and Ichigo could feel his temper start to rise. “We’ll see about that.”
“I mean it, Ichigo,” Renji sighed, resealing Zabimaru and heading towards him. “I’m done anyway. Come upstairs, I’ll make some tea.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Did you hit yourself in the head with your own bankai or something?” Ichigo felt the last of his control slipping, but he just couldn’t help it. “It’s not bad enough that you think I’m too weak to fight; now you’re going to make me tea!?”
“I never said nothin’ about being weak; I just don’t feel like fightin’ right now.” Renji moved past him towards the ladder.
Ichigo didn't remember snapping, but one second he was just standing there, gaping like a particularly angry fish, and the next he was flying at Renji. The older shinigami barely had time to turn before he found himself flat on his back, staring up at an equally shocked Ichigo.
“You just attacked me in your human body,” Renji mumbled incredulously.
“I don’t need to be a shinigami to beat you, asshole.” Honestly, Ichigo had thought the other man would block him so he hadn’t really considered more than the first attack.
“You gonna win by sittin’ on me? Cause it ain’t really doin’ much.” Renji was starting to sound amused again and it made Ichigo crazy.
He dove forward, intent on beating every last shred of humor from that face but Renji was ready for him this time. He found himself sprawling a few feet away, coughing from the impact before he registered the movement. He didn’t bother trying to analyze what Renji had just done, launching immediately into a counter attack. The two rolled wildly in the sand for a couple of minutes, Renji trying to pin Ichigo and Ichigo trying to pound Renji’s face into the ground. Just when the older man was about to resort to a binding spell a shrill alarm brought them both to a standstill. Removing his hand from Ichigo’s neck, Renji dug his communicator out of his pocket and flipped it open.
“What is it?” The younger man demanded, still loosely clutching a handful of red hair.
“Arrancar, 3 of ‘em.” Renji shook Ichigo off and sat up, snarling. “Shit, one’s only a couple blocks away.”
He swung to his feet and ran for the ladder, feeling the gentle tug as Ichigo left his body and fell in behind him. They shouted down the hall to Urahara as they passed, never breaking stride, and hit the night air at a run.
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It wasn’t the Espada, or even a Numero, it was something new. It looked more like a beast than a man, 20 feet tall with a hideous, distorted face poking out from behind the remnant hollow mask. It was fast, insanely fast and it didn’t seem locked to one shape; more than once it had spontaneously grown a new limb or two in order to block an attack. Aizen, it seemed, had grown a bit restless and had decided to branch out into new experiments.
Ichigo hit the ground hard with his left shoulder, skidding across the rough pavement until a wall halted his momentum. Cursing, he sprang back to his feet, wiping a trail of blood out of his eyes and rolling his arm to test for damage. He grimaced. He was having trouble keeping up with the creature’s movements and Zangetsu was starting to feel unusually heavy even in his much smaller, bankai form. Belatedly he realized that Renji’s assessment of his condition may have been accurate, not just insulting. No time to worry about it now, though, because the thing had just smacked Renji out of the sky. Snarling he pushed forward.
“Are you okay?” The redhead called to him, struggling out of the tangled mess of what had once been a bus stop.
“Stop worrying so damn much about me and concentrate on killing that thing,” he bit back, lunging between a pair of razor barbed tentacles to swipe at its legs.
The ‘thing’ just laughed, sliding back out of reach and swinging at him with what now looked like a meat cleaver. It never spoke, just laughed, a high pitched, insane sound that raised the hairs on Ichigo’s neck. He wondered if it was even capable of speech. There was a flash as Renji soared overhead, Zabimaru lashing out in a tight arch. He was fighting without the aid of his bankai because with his limit still in place, the monstrous form was just too slow to be effective against the creature’s speed. For the hundredth time, Ichigo cursed Soul Society for continuing to reinstate that thing.
The fight wore on, neither side making much progress, until Ichigo began to wonder if killing it was even possible. Then, in a horrifyingly brief instant, all the exhaustion, fatigue, and over exertion caught up with him at the worst moment. He was coming down from a failed attack, Zangetsu poised to deflect the barbed whip that was already descending, when he hit the ground and stumbled. It happened so fast; his feet touched the pavement and his legs simply refused the weight, causing him to drop the point of his blade as he tried to stay upright. He realized his mistake instantly, eyes flickering up to the spikes flying towards his head, but his arm felt like it was moving in slow motion.
Something dark flashed across his vision and he felt a sharp pain as Renji collided with him, dragging him off of his feet. They hit the ground rolling and came to a stop a few feet away, Renji crouched over him, teeth bared, eyes fixed on the monster looming above. Ichigo felt something warm hit his face and realized there was blood flowing freely down the older man’s neck. He’d been unable to avoid the full impact when he’d rolled between Ichigo and the attack.
Renji surged to his feet but it was too late, the creature already had the advantage. He barely managed to get Zabimaru up in time to avoid being cut in half by one of those heavily bladed arms, the impact sending him into a wall with enough force bring it down around him. Dazed, he dragged himself out of the debris, spotting Zabimaru a few yards away. Lights danced in front of his eyes and the blood running down his arms made his hands slick as he tried to crawl, reaching for his weapon.
Something struck him in the side and he was flipped onto his back, staring up at the thing looming over him. It laughed again, darker than before, and a barbed spike in its chest shot downward. There was a slight breeze and then Ichigo was there, stalling the attack with nothing more than the point of his sword. His eyes flicked to Renji and the older man shivered at the silver-blue stare, remembering a time he’d encountered it under less than friendly conditions. It was different this time, darker, heavier, and dangerously more powerful. He could feel the rage rolling off of Ichigo as the air churned under the force of his reiatsu. The chilling gaze left him, returning to the creature that was shrieking its fury, hurtling a mass of limbs in their direction.
“Getsuga Tenshou,” he murmured, voice cold and detached.
The black energy crackled, surging upward towards the screaming beast, peeling it away until there was nothing left but ash. Ichigo swayed as the last of the energy left him, driving Zangetsu into the ground to hold his weight as that blinding rage slipped away. A powerful reiatsu brushed against his and he spun, the clash of steel ringing out in the night as Zangetsu met Hyourinmaru. Hitsugaya returned Ichigo’s stare calmly through the blood matting the left side of his face and both blades fell away. This last burst of adrenaline proved too much for Ichigo and his legs finally gave out completely, his sword clattering to the ground as he swayed. An arm shot out to support him at the last moment and if he’d had the energy left to feel emotions he’d have been surprised that Hitsugaya had bothered to catch him.
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Ichigo sat at the edge of Renji’s futon, his head in his hands, replaying the events of the night. He’d woken about an hour ago, back in his body with Urahara hovering over him holding a handful of bandages. He’d turned his head and found Renji laying face down across the room, Tessai’s glowing hands tracing over three deep gashes in his back. Beside him, Jinta was wringing out a bloody towel in a bowl of water, trying unsuccessfully to look like he wasn’t concerned. Ichigo had turned away, guilt burning in his cheeks. He’d stayed there for awhile, wanting to keep an eye on the progress but Urahara had chased him out saying that he should go home and rest. He wanted to do just that but found that he couldn’t leave so he’d gone to Renji’s room instead.
The others had left shortly after he’d regained consciousness, back to patrolling, filing reports, or just off to their own beds. Rukia had stayed the longest, trying to talk him into returning home with her. She’d been more subdues than usual, her left arm and leg wrapped in bandages from where her own fight had turned ugly. She’d been with Hitsugaya’s group which had saved her, though none of them had managed to get away without injury. In the end she’d accepted his need to be there, if not fully understanding the reason, and had left, promising to tell his family that he was fine and just staying at a friend’s. He was grateful that she’d let the issue drop for once because he was all out of fight.
Now, alone in the poorly lit room, Ichigo slowly began to tear into himself. In his mind, he once again felt the blood dripping onto his skin and wondered how you find enough words to apologize for nearly getting someone killed with your own stupidity. Renji had been right; he’d pushed himself to the point where he was no good to anyone, a liability that put the people around him in danger. Over and over he ran through the events, each time sinking a little deeper into himself as he realized that he’d not only failed to protect someone, he’d actually been the cause of their injury. He lay back on the futon, hands digging into his burning eyes, trying to push away the darkness in his mind.
Two hours later a freshly bandaged Renji slid the door to him room open, wincing at the pull in his back, and found Ichigo asleep. Closing the door he stared down at the younger man, frowning at the painful emotions playing across the sleeping face. Sighing, he dropped his ruined clothes into a chair along with Zabimaru, running a hand through his shower damp hair. He sat down on the far side of the futon, watching as Ichigo grimaced against some unknown dream, his breathing shallow and erratic.
“You think this is all your fault, don’t ya?” he spoke softly to the sleeping form, noticing how Ichigo flinched at the sound.
He reached out and threaded his fingers through the hair at the younger mans temple, thumb stroking the knot drawn up between the delicate orange brows. Slowly, the frown relaxed a bit and the breathing started to even out. Renji ran his hand through the hair, brushing it back away from the other man’s face, feeling the tension seep out of the tightly wound body. He stayed there for several long minutes, idly tracing through sleep messed locks, wondering how he’d feel in Ichigo’s position.
The protests of his aching back finally penetrated his thoughts and he withdrew his fingers, considering what to do with the boy taking up the majority of his bed. Sighing, he slipped a hand under his shoulder and, ignoring the biting pain, rolled him up onto his side. Bracing him to make sure he didn’t roll away, Renji slipped onto the futon behind him, letting Ichigo’s weight settle back against him. He pulled a blanket up over the both of them before snaking an arm around the smaller form to keep him in place. The last thing he needed was for Ichigo to start thrashing and ruin all Tessai’s hard work. Ichigo seemed to stiffen a bit at the intrusion before relaxing completely into the embrace, shifting back slightly into the warmth of the other body. Renji smirked into the back of his neck regretting, not for the first time, his decision to not to tease the kid about any of this shit. Sometimes he was just too nice for his own good.