Recalling You (1/?)
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.
Warnings: romance, minor bad language.
Summary: Loosing his memory, Ishida strives to escape the chaos, even her.
Notes: afteriwake had been very kind and helpful while reviewing my story "Pit-Patter" (another IshiRuki fic). I allowed her to request a fic from me and this is the result. Thank you, darling.
A mere pile of flesh and bones upon the kitchen floor, Ishida lies on the icy tiles, his vision blurred by salt water and tiredness. Thoughts dance lethargically within his mind; what, when, who, where, how? There's no memory of ending up on his back, facing the ceiling but his energy has been deflated long ago and he cannot muster any strength to stand. Ishida closes his eyes and feels his head hurt less. The kitchen light is unnaturally bright.
Something sounds from the front of the apartment—his door opening?—and dainty, light footsteps search his abode, a ghost to him at the moment. Ishida discovers he can't care about the situation, whatever it is. It doesn't matter. However, he cannot remember why. There had been an occurrence, a terrible one. Something hurt him...Ishida cannot pull the memory up and he briefly (very briefly) questions if he remembers anything at all.
Oh. There it is again. Pat, pat. Padded shoes make their way to him and Ishida thinks he recognizes them. But the strange pain will not alleviate if he opens his eyes, so he keeps them closed and pretends nothing is there. It surely doesn't make him worry and he cannot find any emotion to extrude for this. And, with a sigh, he rolls his head to the side and makes an attempt to sleep.
There's a gasp and he still wonders who it is standing above him. "Uryuu...? How—?"
He wouldn't mind knowing the answer to that question either, however cold hands cover his feverish forehead and there's another gasp. The hands reach over his face and under his arms to lift him. Groaning in discomfort, Ishida makes sure it's extremely noticeable he's just fine laying on...the kitchen floor. Yeah. That's fine with him; it's more comfortable than walking at least. From the voice, he assumes his guest is a woman and he runs through all the women he knows. But his head hurts all over again and Ishida gives up trying to remember.
By now, she has him on his lap, stroking his hair and—does she have a wet cloth on his head? When did she have time to do that? Ishida frowns (but stops a second later because of the pain in the effort), thinking he's probably loosing track of time too. That's not a positive sign. Breathing out, he realizes he still can't bring himself to care either way. Her lap is fine, just enough for him to sleep.
"Uryuu, can you hear me?"
He wants to tell her to kindly be quiet because he'd like to get rest. However, the moment he opens his mouth, his voice scratches and his throat burns with the mere effort. Okay. Something happened earlier. There must be a reason he cannot remember. Ishida decides he most likely doesn't want to know, basing his theory that whatever that something was, it probably was unpleasant.
Then it strikes him: this woman must know him. If he can't recall any memories, perhaps she could assist him. That is, if he can somehow communicate that to her. Talking is out of the question. And raising a finger to write will exhaust him. Ishida mentally shrugs. That doesn't sound too bad. If he doesn't remember, then he doesn't remember. He's too tired to figure out things now.
His eyes open and blink repeatedly to adjust to the lighting. Coincidentally, the lights are off, at least in the kitchen. But Ishida can clearly see the young lady above his face. He stares apathetically up at her apprehensive one. Gently, her thumb strokes the side of his face, more of an action to soothe herself rather than him. Black, short strands of hair brush over her shoulders and some over her face. Azure—or could he just say violet?—eyes look towards him, lingering nervousness inside them.
A small, relieved smile touches her lips and she closes her eyes for those quiet seconds. Ishida thinks she looks rather attractive and how in the world she knows him. Nevertheless, Ishida thinks about how he can't even remember anything other than his own name and he lives here, so he's not going to guess anything just yet. Especially if this woman could possibly be a family member or a friend. Besides, something tells him he's not a lady's man anyway, so that's not going to work.
"We thought something happened when your spiritual pressure dropped so suddenly," she chokes out and he can't bring himself to raise an eyebrow at her explanation. Spiritual pressure. Uh, sure, whatever. "You said you were fine, but...I knew I shouldn't have let you go."
When he thinks she's about to begin crying, the woman abruptly slips away and lays his head on the floor all over again. It's when he can inspect her attire, which includes a white dress with blue trimmings, interlacing right above—wait. He knows about design? Sewing? Squinting his eyes, Ishida decides that he probably does. It's too early to tell, he still doesn't know and, again, he couldn't care either way.
"I've got to get somebody to help us," the young woman explains and he realizes how short she is when she stands, "I can't carry you by myself."
She pulls out a cell phone and Ishida closes his eyes. Her voice is soft and quiet, so he doesn't have a problem dozing off quickly.
As Ishida wakes, he knows immediately he is in some place very different than before. There's a small alarming feeling until it's extinguished by apathetic care and Ishida takes the time to observe the room. It appears to be more dojo-themed rather than a typical home. His head lies on a small cotton pillow and he knows there is only a mere blanket separating him and the floor. The room, small and quaint, is cold with the air flow, despite it being just a few degrees below outside. There's a closet just behind him and a small floor table in the middle of the room.
Mildly wondering where he is, Ishida supposes, since his head isn't swimming in pain, he can at least sit up. As he does, Ishida feels exhausted and drained by simply raising from the floor, blanket falling off his form and leaning against the wall he was positioned next to. He squints his eyes a bit more to search for a clock or something that may indicate the time. However, there are none and the lack of windows does not help either.
Ishida figures if he tries standing, he'll only end up on the floor again. Part of him wonders if that's how he got here in the first place, that some of this is strange that he truly cannot remember anything but his name. But he thinks that he can get past that, because, if needed, he'll just ask around. Starting with that woman, who apparently is his current caretaker. It's possible she's a huge part of his life, considering she waltzed into his home as if it were all right before, so Ishida understands that perhaps the young woman is accustomed to being over to his apartment.
Groaning at the sudden piercing pain, Ishida holds a hand over his eyes. This certainly is strange, but he can't bring himself to be concerned about it. Now that he ponders more, he can't even remember buying the apartment, having a mother or father, family, friends. All of this is suddenly wiped from his mind and wonders what type of life he's had before. Not that he's worried, he can always start again, but it'd be nice to have resources.
A familiar sound is outside the door. Pat, pat, pat, pat. Padded shoes. Ishida recognizes it as the woman from before. He knows it is. And when the door slides open to reveal a calmed, raven-haired woman, Ishida can't help but feel a bit of casualness at the sight of her. Despite not fully knowing her, he feels a familiarity, having seen her for the first time since his memory loss.
Blinking slowly, she sighs and walks to him. "You're awake."
He nods, still not trusting his voice in any way, shape or form. She doesn't smile and he sort of misses the first impression she gave last time. The smile, quiet and gentle, is still etched in his mind and he admires it. However, Ishida figures she's not one to share it so freely and that's a shame. Like now, her face is neutral and passive, much like how he is feeling.
"Urahara brought you here after I called for his help. He put some kido healing spells on you, but explained something was blocking the process. You'll need to speak to him for further evaluation—just explain what happened. He'll understand then."
With an incredulous look, Ishida stares at the woman only a meter away. Kido? Spells? Evaluation? Ishida thinks that his life may not be as normal as he had assumed. There's not much he can do about it now, but Ishida really wants to tell her how crazy she sounds to him. Her voice, monotone and quiet, seems serious and believable and he thinks he'll just go with the flow for now. It can't be too bad.
She tilts her head to the side and frowns slightly. "What's going on? Why aren't you replying?"
In a way, she looks even more attractive with that confused face. But Ishida's not about to dwell on that. Instead, he decides gathering courage to use his vocal cords. It can't be so terrible, maybe it's just a sore throat.
"I..." Okay. That came out awful and scratchy. Ishida grips his throat and winces in pain. Peaking over to her, he watches as her eyes widen with alarm.
"You cannot speak," she apparently decides to voice the obvious. Her eyes search the room until she pointedly looks in a particular direction, picking herself up and heading that way. Her small fingers grip an object and, until she comes closer to him, he can see exactly what it is. His glasses. "Here. I'll be back with some anesthetics, or something to cure your—"
Instinctively (where'd that come from?), he clutches her wrist before she can fully stand to her feet. Immediately, she's pulled to the floor with surprising strength. Shocked at his strange action, Ishida widens his eyes and releases her. A couple things wrong with what just happened: one, Ishida has no idea why he had reached out for her. And two: since when does he have the strength to throw people to the ground. As he gapes at the woman sitting on the floor, Ishida silently negotiates that he hadn't thrown her. Simply jerked her down that it happened to make her fall.
Ishida is probably insane. But that's fine. Whatever.
"Wha...?" she frowns again, however, contrary to what Ishida thought, she's not offended. "Why did you...?"
Raspy and pained, Ishida manages to grate some words off his tongue, "Stay...please."
He doesn't get to find out if she will or not, because just as she opens her mouth to answer, a grown man strides into the room. A green and white stripped hat upon messy blonde hair and a long, dark green robe over his form. Friendly, the man smiles as he grips an unneeded cane and slips onto the floor, next to them.
"Urahara," her voice comes out in a breath, almost relieved and Ishida ignores a feeling of being a trouble. Facing towards the newcomer, the raven haired woman explains, "He cannot talk. I'm not sure how or why but it's hard for him to say anything."
The man she calls Urahara nods, humming with thought. Ishida raises an eyebrow at him, feeling tiredness creep inside him already. The blonde turns to Ishida seriously.
"Throat hurts? Or nausea?"
Ishida remembers having both causes, but he holds up one finger to indicate the former suggestion. Urahara nods and pulls something out of the pockets of his robe, a bottle. Great. Medicine. The lid pops open and two pills fall into the pale hand.
Urahara gazes over to the woman neutrally. "Would you get a glass of water for Ishida-san, Rukia-chan?"
Something flashes over Ishida's eyes, something bright and white and familiar. The name causes a particular shock to his system; his mind stays blank for seconds until she is up and already out of the room, obeying Urahara's order.
Wide-eyed, Ishida stares at the blonde, questioning the strange occurrence. Her name means something to him, apparently. Still dazed, Ishida watches Urahara until the man returns the look.
In a low and careful tone, the blonde questions, "You have no idea who you are, do you?"
Stunned, Ishida wonders how he could have known in the first place. By just studying him? Observation can get you only so far and Ishida is confused how this man could have hit the mark so fast and easily. Nodding his head, Ishida indicates Urahara is right.
Urahara sighs and leans back. "I'll have to tell Rukia later but I suppose I'll just work on getting your memory back." Giving Ishida the pill, he stands up and begins to walk out the room. Turning back and staring over his shoulder, he assures him, "She'll be back with the water. Take the pill. It will soothe the pain for awhile until we work on having you fully healed. But we have to restore your memory."
And, apparently, that makes it all better because Ishida's left in the room alone again.
It's tiresome to even think about this. How is he going to start up a life? By picking up from where he left off? Yeah. Not gonna happen. Ishida closes his eyes, irritated. He doesn't want to deal with this. Honestly, he doesn't mind starting anew. Something caused him to feel stressed and he snapped—Ishida doesn't want to go back to whatever that was.
It's strange, though, that he knows his name. It's peculiar. If he wanted to, Ishida could merely search out for others holding his name. But he supposes that's what this Urahara man is for.
Light footsteps drift through the open doorway and Rukia melts down to him on the floor, glass of water in hand. Her face, listless, doesn't meet his gaze. Ishida shrugs off the disappointment, takes the cup and carefully downs the pill. It hurts and he winces as his sensitive throat closes around the medicine. Gripping his neck, he realizes that it's choking him. He tries to breathe, but it's blocked off and he coughs out what little air he has left.
He can't see her very well as his vision gets blurred but she grips his shoulders at once, demanding what is happening. Sure, like he can even talk. Grasping the glass of water again, Ishida tries drinking the rest of it down. Rukia holds the cup to his mouth before it drops out of his shaky hands. Quickly, he gulps what he can down until he feels too light-headed.
Ishida blinks awake this time and it doesn't exactly hurt anymore. She's there, sitting down next to him. Or, rather, she's sleeping, her back against the wall and head bowed. Slightly, he smirks at the scene; she always seems too upbeat and soldier on. But apparently she's human after all. Or something close.
He grips his throat, remembering his near-death experience before falling unconscious. He wonders how long he's been out, but like it would matter. Sitting up, he notices there's no more pain. Not even his throat burns any longer. Muscles feel good, head doesn't swim with hurt. Ishida sighs in relief. Good. No more pain.
Standing, he makes his way across the room with one last look at the young woman. There's a hallway, other rooms fill it with closed doors.
"You're up sooner than we thought..."
Ishida feels his eye twitch at Urahara's voice. This man annoys him for several unknown reasons... He turns to the smiling man.
He begins to nod but thinks twice and tries his voice. "Yes."
"Ah! And you can talk now."
"Shh," Ishida nods the room behind him,"She's sleeping."
"Rukia?" Urahara asks with doubt. Apparently Ishida's not the only one who believes it impossible. "Huh. Well, I should probably update you on the news. You're still sick, despite how all your symptoms are gone."
"Sick?" Ishida frowns. "I don't remember getting sick. Could I have just fallen or something?"
"No. If you had hit your head, this wouldn't be such a hard thing to deal with," the blonde sighs out. "It's both a psychological and physical problem. You will still experience great weakness."
"Then it's because I don't want to remember. Is that it?"
"Now you're catching on."
"Then why not leave it be? I can always get better."
Urahara raises an eyebrow. "You don't trust me, do you? Neh, it's all right. You didn't before this happened. But you should trust Rukia. No matter what."
Ishida resists the urge to roll his eyes.
"By the way," Urahara adds, "I should probably warn you about something: keep an open mind when she explains things to you. From the looks of it, you don't even remember having a father or even what you work for. Just listen and don't take things the wrong way."
With a shrug, the man turns and walks down the hallway. Like it's going to be that simple. Ishida glares after his form, even a minute after. How can he deal with this? He just wants to start over, actually. That'd be nice.
But that's not gonna happen.
He goes exploring around the area. No one is about to stop him, so he strolls the block, searching for things that may deem familiar. Nothing does, as he expects. The Urahara's Shop entrance, the old, cramped alleyways, small road, apartment buildings, only a few faces pass him—there's nothing.
It's all right, it's not like he's hoping to regain any memory, considering there must be a reason he lost it in the first place. So, he's not holding his breath.
Off to the other side of the street, a long figure strides along the sidewalk. Her short black hair and lean build cause him to stare for just a moment. Dark eyes slice over to him and they share a glance for only a few seconds until she sets her jaw, narrows her eyes and moves on. Ishida shrugs and continues onto his walk, deciding she probably knows him. If she didn't stop to talk to him, she must have not been that important in his life. But something calls to him and he wants to look back, maybe call out to her and ask questions. However, Ishida doesn't want to and moves on.
There's only two people he knows of right now: Urahara and Rukia. Somehow, they know him and his past. Strangely, Ishida has a feeling he works with them based on how they spoke so informally. Well, if he has job skills, that would be useful. Maybe he can get enough money to get out of this town—away from all of them. He feels disconnected from it all and would rather leave. Despite how that Rukia may care for him, Ishida doesn't feel comfortable with anyone around him. He'd rather start fresh, where no one really knows who he is.
Nah, that sounds a bit odd. But nice, nevertheless.
Ishida sighs. Things would be easier if she hadn't found him in his apartment. Now he knows of this other life. Maybe if he had forgotten all of it, he could begin anew. But, apparently, she keeps tabs on him, if she had checked on him in his own home. At least he doesn't feel like shit anymore. That was terrible pain. He's walking and breathing without any burden (yet). So, things should be fine for the most part.
Blinking, Ishida wonders if that was part of his imagination. (Actually, he's hoping it was.) He pauses for a second before trudging on. There's no way he's going to meet up with another person from his 'past'. Too uncomfortable. Too tiresome. And certainly too annoying.
It's a young male voice. And he's running after Ishida. Nice. Ishida whirls around just as some stupid teenage kid runs into him unintentionally and they're both falling on the sidewalk. Ishida groans in pain as the back of his head hits the pavement. A heavy weight is over his body and he realizes it's that idiot teen who managed to get them into this mess.
"Get off me."
The kid grumbles something about being hurt and him not caring but he obeys nonetheless. Ishida stares at the sky until a hand comes into his view. He glances over at the teen and takes the offer, getting pulled up. He sighs and brushes himself off, knowing something is probably staining the nice pants he has on. Tiredly, Ishida studies the kid before him. Vibrant orange for his hair color and amber eyes, the teenager gazes back with a grim expression.
Not even thinking twice, Ishida begins on his way.
"Wha—? Hey! Ishida, wait!"
In frustration, Ishida moans as the kid grabs his shoulder and yanks him back to face him.
"What do you want?" he demands, irritated.
Equally as offended, "Look, I'm sorry! I didn't know you'd still be angry—! Actually, yeah, I did expect you to be this angry. I just wanted to apologize," the carrot-topped boy turns sober for a moment, a small change from the scowl from earlier. "I never wanted to hurt you. I—listen, just hear me out. I...I can't make up for what I did, but don't let me get in the way of your relationship wi—"
"Pardon me here, but I don't think such a heart-felt apology should be reserved for knocking me to the ground," Ishida raises a hand to stop the kid from his ramblings. Seriously, is this child all right? How could he have known such a bizarre person?
The carrot-head stares at him questionably. Oh, right. Now Ishida's the one who's crazy, huh? Ishida inwardly sighs as the boy continues to look at him strangely.
"Ishida, I'm not apologizing for runnin' you over," he corrects him. Leaning closer to Ishida, he raises an eyebrow. "Don't you remember? What happened with you and Rukia? Hey, are you even listening to me?"
Great. Now that brat revealed yet another mystery to his life. Ishida suspects he only just got this amnesia probably hours ago, based on the way people keep treating him.
"Please," Ishida waves a hand, "leave me be. I don't want to hear any of this."
"No, Ishida, wait," he grabs his wrist, forcefully bringing him closer before he could escape. "I'm trying to tell you it's my fault—"
Ripping free, Ishida glares angrily. "Listen, I don't know who you are and I don't know what you're talking about! I don't remember what you're trying to tell me and, frankly, I don't want to."
Amber eyes widen in shock. Taken aback, the kid shakes his head in confusion. Before he can speak, Ishida is off, turning and running away. He prays that he'll never have to deal with that teenager ever again. At this rate, he'll just run straight out of this town and never look back. It's irritating.
The kid doesn't follow, apparently taking heed to his request to be left alone. Thank goodness. Ishida frowns to himself. Where is he heading? To simply take off would be just a little stupid, now that he thinks about it. Logically, he should pack the necessities and find a place somewhere else. That'd be right.
Now only if he can remember where his apartment is...
Sick. He feels sick. His heart drums painfully in his head, almost enough to feel as if his ears are bleeding. Despite still wearing his glasses, nothing is visually clear. His mind reels and he's stumbling on the hot pavement. Liquid runs into his eyes, disabling his vision further.
Oh. It's blood. Right, he was hit in the head. Heh, it hurts too. Ishida brings his hands flat on the road's surface for support, pebbles lodging into his skin. Something is still in his neck, Ishida knows. There's nothing worse than having to pull a knife out and he dearly hopes the object isn't big enough. From his guess, the weapon is extruding poison into his system, judging by the way his body is reacting. His throat is closing, eyes can hardly see, can't hear and just seconds ago, he could spy veins through very pale skin of his hands.
Looking up, he can see shadows and distinguish them as his comrades and the single enemy. Big enemy. Tendrils shoot to one of his friends and he feels panic all over. He tries to scream, but breath leaves him. Struggling to stand, Ishida strives to get to her. Why does he always have to be the one to go down first and she the last? Not this time—she's going to be all right, he'll make sure of it.
With just enough energy, light sparks from his finger tips and he feels the pull of his weapon at the ready. His muscles start loosing strength, but he hopes there's enough time. If he can shoot right, the monster will go down in seconds. Ichigo can take care of the rest. Gritting his teeth as his hands begin to shake, he squints despite his leaving vision. Shadows and figures is all he can see, but he knows where to hit it.
Just as a tendril shoots towards her, Ishida releases the arrow. He imagines the monster screeches as he falls on the paved road, unconscious.
His body flies up from the bed and he staggers out of the room, the walls his only support as he finds the bathroom. Turning the facet on, he splashes water on his face. Catching his breath, he sinks to the floor, bringing a hand to his neck.
Nothing. No blade. No blood.
Ishida sighs, confused at the vivid dream. It was so familiar and yet so surreal. He recognized the characters. Rukia and the strange boy. However, that creature is a mystery to him. It's just a dream though.
He hates this. He just wants to start again and get away from this world.
He's a douche mostly because of the illness, confusion and tiredness. So don't be turned off because our lovely gentleman has turned into a jerk.
afteriwake asked for a specific thing and I just want to say that I'll certainly get there. I just couldn't write a drabble. So, there will be later chapters.