Ichigo closed his eyes. Great, another disaster. Just what I needed.
"Hey!" Rukia's voice sounded again from the closet, this time louder and muffled by the wood. "What is that noise?! You're leaving me here! Get me out!"
"Not now!" Ichigo hissed at the door. "It's my dad! Stay in there and don't make a single sound!"
"You can't give me orders, human! I am...!"
Ichigo slammed his fist on the door. "I said shut up! Or I swear I'll open the door and let him deal with you."
There was an offended silence from inside the closet, so, satisfied, Ichigo took a deep breath and headed for the stairs.
When he went downstairs, he found Isshin in the middle of the living room in his doctor's coat, but he wasn't looking at Ichigo; instead, he was looking up, through the ceiling, at the hole on the second floor, with an expression of horror Ichigo had rarely seen.
"Ichigo..." Isshin said, his voice a strangely quiet murmur. "What...?"
"It was an accident," Ichigo said, the words spilling out too fast.
"An accident?" Isshin turned slowly. "An 'accident' is spilling a glass of milk. An 'accident' is breaking a window with a baseball. You... you've... ripped out... a wall! How?!"
"It's... complicated."
"Don't give me 'complicated'! Was it fireworks? Were you building a bomb? Oh my god, you joined a terrorist club! I told Masaki, I told her, that orange hair only brings trouble!"
"It wasn't a bomb, Dad! It was... a truck."
Isshin stopped. "A truck?"
"Yeah, a big truck that lost control." Ichigo pointed toward the street with his thumb. "It came up on the lawn, hit the house, and then... I guess it panicked, reversed, and drove off."
Isshin stared at him for three full seconds, and then huge tears welled up in his eyes.
"MY POOR BOY!" he roared, lunging to hug Ichigo.
"Get off! What are you doing?!" Ichigo shouted, pushing him away.
"A ghost truck almost killed you!" Isshin sobbed. "And I wasn't here to protect you! I was at my very important internal medicine conference!"
"It wasn't a ghost truck! And let go of me!"
That's when someone knocked on the door with a loud, official rap.
The police sirens were right outside now, painting the living room red and blue.
Isshin froze, his tearful expression vanishing, replaced by a very different kind of panic. "Oh, no. The neighbors. They called the police! Ichigo, if they ask us, the gas line exploded!"
"No! The truck story is better!"
"Yours is stupid! A truck hitting the second floor?"
"Yours gets us thrown in jail for insurance fraud!"
"Guys!" Karin's voice cut through the argument. She was pale, but her voice was firm as she held Yuzu, who was trembling with red eyes, by the hand. "Stop yelling and go open the door. They're going to break it down."
Isshin composed himself, smoothed his coat, and ran to the door.
"Officers, thank God you're here!" Isshin shouted, throwing the door open.
Two police officers, an older man with a mustache and a younger woman who looked nervous, were on the doorstep, staring wide-eyed at the mess.
The older cop blinked. "...Mr. Kurosaki, we received a call from... multiple neighbors. Reporting an explosion. Or a... a large animal."
"It was my son!" Isshin pointed at Ichigo. "He's at that difficult age! His teenage hormones exploded! Look what he's done to my house!"
Ichigo felt his mouth go dry. "That's not what happened."
"No?" Karin said, stepping forward. "Because I think Dad's right. It was some kind of explosion."
Ichigo looked at her, and Karin stared back. A silent agreement passed between them: lie.
The older cop adjusted his cap, his gaze landing on the ceiling, where a new crack was visible. "Son, do you want to tell us what happened here? Were you... playing with fireworks?"
"Fireworks? No," Ichigo said. "It was... a gas problem. I think."
"Of course not!" Isshin intervened. "My gas installation is perfect! I checked it myself! This is youthful angst! Pure and simple! He wants a new car! I told you, Ichigo, not until your math grades improve!"
"Dad, shut up, you're not helping," Ichigo muttered.
The older cop rubbed the bridge of his nose, clearly fed up. "Sir, we can't file 'youthful angst' as the cause of a... hole in your wall." He peeked inside and looked toward the second floor. "Is... is the whole wall...?"
"Gone," Karin confirmed in a crisp voice. "I thought it was an earthquake, but then it was just Ichigo's room. Which is weird. Maybe it was... lightning?"
"It's not raining, miss," the female officer said.
"Dry lightning," Karin replied, shrugging.
"Exactly! A dry lightning bolt of hormones!" Isshin shouted.
"It was a truck," Ichigo said, his voice dead.
Everyone turned to look at him.
"A truck?" the older cop repeated, without inflection.
"Yeah. A big truck. Really tall. Lost control. Hit the house and drove off."
There was a long silence. The younger officer looked at the older officer, the older officer looked at Ichigo, and Isshin looked at the sky as if searching for divine answers.
"A... truck," the officer said, "...that hit the second floor."
"A monster truck," Isshin added, getting on board. "I always tell them those weekend events at the stadium would bring trouble to our neighborhood!"
"A monster truck," the female officer repeated, writing slowly in her notebook. "That... fled the scene."
"Exactly," Ichigo said, nodding too earnestly.
The cop sighed. It was a long, deep sigh that spoke of years of service and too many weird reports. "Look. I don't know what the hell happened here, and to be honest, it seems like a lot of paperwork I don't want to do at ten at night."
He looked at Isshin. "Mr. Kurosaki. Your insurance will cover this, probably. Or not. Whatever exploded, it's not here anymore. No one's injured, right?"
"My heart is injured!" Isshin wailed.
"No physical injuries," the cop corrected. "Look, we're going back to the station. You and your daughters should probably come. We have to take a formal statement. Just for the record."
"What?" Ichigo said.
"You stay here, son," the cop said, patting his shoulder. "Take care of... covering the hole. With a tarp. Or something. Don't let the raccoons in."
"But...!"
"Let's go, girls!" Isshin suddenly turned serious, or at least his version of serious. He grabbed Yuzu, lifting her into his arms, and put a hand on Karin's shoulder. "Let's go to the station. I'll tell them all about the infamous 'Karakura Monster Truck'!"
Karin shot Ichigo one last look that clearly said, "You owe me. A big one."
And then they were gone; the door closed, and the red and blue lights disappeared down the street.
Silence.
Ichigo stood in the living room for a full minute. The only sound was the night wind blowing in... through the second floor.
"Shit," he said aloud.
He ran upstairs, two steps at a time. The police chaos was gone, but the real problem was still in his closet.
"About time!" Rukia's voice snapped as soon as he entered the room. "It was dark in there! And what was that story? A monster truck?"
Ichigo yanked the closet door open.
Rukia was curled up on his old blankets. The white hospital gown she was wearing (where did that come from?) was stained with dried blood from her wound. She was pale and looked even smaller than she was.
"It worked, didn't it?" he said, leaning exhausted against the doorframe.
"What worked? Your stupid lie?"
"It got my family away. They've gone to the police station. We have... time. I guess. How much time? I don't know."
Rukia looked at him, her anger seeming to fade, replaced by the fear from before. "Ichigo... I don't feel good."
"You were stabbed," he said. "And then I stabbed you. And then I drained you. You probably shouldn't feel good."
"No, it's not that." She tried to sit up, leaning against the closet wall, breathing hard. "The wound... it barely hurts. It's... something else. It's... what you did to me."
"Hey, I didn't do anything to you. You told me to stab you."
"Not like that!" she hissed. "Idiot. I... need... I need to get them back."
"My keys? I don't know where..."
"My powers!" she shouted, the word seeming to cost her effort. "They're in you. I can... feel them. I have to... I have to try and pull them out."
Ichigo crossed his arms. "Fine. Do it. Pull them out. I want this night to be over."
"It doesn't work like that. I... I have to concentrate." Rukia closed her eyes, her brow furrowing. "I have to find them... and pull them back to me."
Ichigo watched, but nothing happened for a second, though then the air in the closet seemed to... shift.
"Are you doing anything?" he asked.
"Shut up. I'm trying." Rukia gritted her teeth. "They're... there. But they're... mixed with you. And with... that other thing..."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Ichigo said quickly.
"Liar! You heard it too!" She snapped her eyes open, which were purple and filled with panic. "It's... it's pulling back! It won't let me...!"
"Hey, hey, calm down!" Ichigo took a step forward. "You're shaking."
"Don't touch me!"
Suddenly, she screamed. She clutched her chest, right where the sword had entered.
"Ah! It burns! Ichigo, it burns!"
"What? What do I do?" Ichigo panicked.
"I don't know! It hurts!"
And then, a faint light began to emanate from her. It was a cold, white light that came from her wound.
"Rukia... your... your wound..."
"What?" She looked down.
The dried blood and torn cloth were being... erased, the skin knitting together, and the wound was closing before his very eyes at an unnatural speed.
"It's... it's healing," she whispered, her voice full of awe. "But... how?"
"I don't know, but... Rukia!"
The light intensified, and she screamed again, but this time the sound was different: deeper and more guttural.
"Ichigo... what... what's happening?" Her voice sounded weird.
"Your... your hand," he said, taking a step back.
She raised her hand. Or what used to be her hand.
The pale skin was turning a bone-white, hard and shiny. Her fingers were lengthening, her nails blackening and turning into short, sharp claws.
"No... no... no..." she began to mutter, panic rising in her voice.
"It's... it's going up your arm!" Ichigo said, pointing. "Rukia, what do I do?!"
"I don't know!"
She shot to her feet in a fluid, overly fast movement, and now she was taller.
"Why are you taller?" Ichigo asked stupidly.
The white bone material was spreading up her arm, climbing her neck. She touched her face with her still-human hand, and then looked at her other hand, the one that had become a claw.
"Ah!" she screamed, but the sound was distorted.
"Rukia, your face," Ichigo said, his voice barely a whisper.
The white bone climbed up her left cheek, covering her eye as a mask formed over half her face. It was smooth, with a single red line running down from where her eye should be, and her other eye stared at him in absolute terror.
"Ichigo..." Her voice came out doubled, much like his had earlier; a mix of her voice and a low growl. "I... I feel... strong. The wound... it's gone."
She touched her side, where the bleeding hole had been. Now there was only pale, unbroken skin, and the white dress was being replaced, tearing and falling away as the white, bony material formed a sort of breastplate over her chest and shoulders.
She was... beautiful, albeit in a terrifying, alien way.
"Rukia..." Ichigo swallowed. "You... you look like them. You look like that monster."
She stopped moving, and the terror in her visible eye vanished, replaced by something... empty.
She tilted her head in a curious, animalistic motion.
"Ichigo."
"Yeah. Still here." He held up his hands. "Look, don't freak out. We can probably fix this. Maybe if I stab you again..."
"You..." she said, her guttural voice vibrating the air.
She took a step out of the closet, almost as tall as him now. The transformation seemed to have stopped, leaving her a strange mix of Shinigami and Hollow: half-mask, claws on one hand, and partial armor.
"You smell..." she said.
Ichigo froze. "Smell? Smell like what? Fear? I probably smell like fear."
"No."
She took another step, so he backed up and bumped into the remains of his desk.
"You smell... good."
"Good? Like pizza? You want pizza? I can order pizza."
"No..." She inhaled, a hissing sound passing through the mask. "You smell... delicious."
"Delicious?"
"Rich."
That word.
The visible purple eye fixed on his throat.
"Oh, shit."
She moved.
It was too fast for him to react, but too slow to be lethal. She pounced on him, using her body to slam him against the wall, and he let out an "Oof!"
"Rukia! What the hell?!"
He pushed her, but she didn't budge, solid and incredibly strong.
"Get off...!"
And then he felt a sharp, wet pain in his neck, right where the neck and shoulder meet.
"Ah! Shit! You're biting me! Are you crazy?! Let go!"
He yelled and pushed her harder, but she didn't move; she just clung to him, and the teeth... they weren't tearing.
It wasn't a killing bite.
It was... a bite.
Kind of like a couple would, a hysterical part of his brain thought.
She was nibbling. Playfully.
"Rukia! This is weird! Stop!"
But then, something else happened: the laughter. That maniacal, high-pitched laugh in the back of his head that had been buzzing since he absorbed the Hollow... stopped.
The constant hunger he had felt, that cold emptiness in his stomach, didn't disappear, but... it stabilized.
The buzzing in his skull faded, replaced by a... warmth.
"Wait..." Ichigo whispered. "Actually, don't... don't stop."
Rukia froze.
Slowly, very slowly, she raised her head, her teeth sliding off his skin, leaving a tingling sensation.
He looked at her. The mask was still there, but the eye he could see was wide and filled with a new emotion: absolute shame and confusion.
"I..." Her guttural voice trembled. "I... bit you."
"Yeah. You did." Ichigo touched his neck. It was wet with saliva. "It didn't hurt. Much."
"I... I was nibbling you," she said, disgusted by the word. "I... why did I do that?"
"I don't know. You said I smelled 'rich'."
"You... shut up!" She jumped away from him, stumbling over a piece of wood. "What is happening to me?! I turn into a Hollow! I get stronger! And then... and then I bite you!"
Ichigo rubbed his neck. The feeling of calm was all too real.
"But..." he said, "it worked."
"What worked?! I'm disfigured!" she screamed, pointing to her face.
"No! Me! The... the hunger. The noise in my head. It's gone. Or... it's quiet. Since you... you know."
Rukia stared at him. Understanding began to filter through her panic. "You mean... when I... bit you... that... helped you?"
"I think so. And you? You said you felt stronger."
"I... I am." She looked at her clawed hand, flexing it. "My wound is healed. And my energy... it's not gone. It's... different. It's mixed. With... with whatever you are."
They fell silent, staring at each other in the middle of the destroyed room. Him, with a bite mark on his neck. Her, looking like a half-formed Arrancar.
"Well," Ichigo finally said, breaking the silence. "This sucks."
"I'm trapped!" Rukia moaned, the sound comically tragic in her doubled voice. "I don't know how to change back! What if I stay like this?! I can't go back to the Soul Society! They'll execute me!"
"No, they won't. They'll have to find where I hide you first."
"And where are you going to hide me? In the closet?! I barely fit now!"
Ichigo looked around. The room was a total disaster, filled with drywall, splintered wood, and broken glass.
"One problem at a time," he said. "My dad and sisters are at the police station. That gives us... I don't know. An hour. Maybe two. We can't leave the room like this."
Rukia blinked. "What... what are you suggesting?"
"I'm suggesting we start cleaning."
"Cleaning?" Her voice went up an octave. "Cleaning?! I just had an existential identity crisis and turned into a monster, and you want me to... to sweep?"
"Yeah," Ichigo said. "You're taller and you have claws. You can reach the big pieces from the ceiling. I'll get the broom."
"I am Rukia Kuchiki! A noble!"
"And I'm Ichigo Kurosaki, the guy whose room you destroyed! Now, are you going to help, or are you going to stand there complaining in your monster voice?"
Rukia glared at him, her purple eye narrowing. Then she looked at a piece of wooden beam hanging dangerously.
"Fine," she growled. "But if your dad comes back, it's your fault."
"Deal."
They got to work.
It was the most absurd situation of Ichigo's life, which was saying a lot.
He was sweeping up broken glass while a Hollow-Shinigami girl ripped chunks of the destroyed wall out with her claws and piled them in a corner.
"Don't just throw it," Ichigo said, coughing on the dust. "Try to make a neat pile."
"I'm using claws, idiot! I'm not that precise right now!" she snapped, her voice echoing.
"Well, be careful. You just scratched the floor. That's not coming out."
"Oh, I'm sorry! Maybe you should have thought of that before you absorbed all my powers and turned me into this!"
"You asked me to!"
"I didn't ask you to break me!"
They stopped, breathing hard.
"Look," Ichigo said, more gently. "Let's just... get this done. Before they come back."
Rukia sighed, a hissing sound through the mask. "Fine."
They continued in silence for almost half an hour. They gathered the larger debris in a corner, swept up the dust and glass, and generally made the room look less like a disaster zone and more... like a room missing a wall.
"I guess this is the best we can do," Ichigo said, leaning on the broom.
"What are you going to do about the hole?" Rukia asked. She was sitting on the floor with her knees drawn up; she looked strangely small, even in her tall form.
"I'll hang a tarp, just like the cop suggested. I'll figure out something better tomorrow."
"Tomorrow..." she repeated.
Suddenly, she shuddered.
"Hey? You okay?"
"I... I feel... weird," she said. "Like... dizzy."
"Dizzy? Do Monsters get dizzy?"
"I don't know!"
She started to glow again, that same cold, white light.
"Whoa! Hey, it's happening again!"
Rukia let out a choked cry. The mask cracked and dissolved into particles of light, the bone on her arm and chest faded, and she began to shrink.
Ichigo watched her fall to the floor, returning to her original size. She landed softly on the pile of blankets he had pulled from the closet.
Silence returned.
Ichigo approached cautiously.
"Rukia?"
She was facedown, motionless.
"Are you... dead? Don't die, my dad will kill me."
"I'm... alive," she mumbled into the blanket, her own voice recovered; weak, but hers.
She turned over slowly. She was wearing the same white hospital gown, now clean of blood.
She looked at her hands: they were human and small.
"It's... it's gone," she whispered, touching her face. "The mask... it's gone."
"Yeah," Ichigo said, letting out the breath he didn't know he was holding. "You're back."
She looked at him. "But... Ichigo..."
"What?"
"I still feel it." She touched her chest. "The wound is still healed, and the power... it's still here..."
Ichigo touched his neck. The bite mark no longer hurt, but the skin was tender. "Yeah," he said. "My head... is still quiet."
They looked at each other.
"So," Ichigo said, sitting on the edge of his bed. "What the hell do we do now?"
Rukia sat up. She was pale, but her eyes were firm.
"I don't know," she admitted. "But... I think... I think you gave me something. And I... took something from you."
"Sounds like we made a really weird trade."
"I think... Ichigo, I think you saved me. From that wound."
"And you saved me from that noise."
Rukia stood up, walked to the closet door, and touched it. "I guess... I go back in here."
"Looks like it. For now."
She stopped and looked at him over her shoulder. "Thank you. For... this."
"No problem. Thanks for... not eating me."
A small smile pulled at the corner of her lips. "I'm not making any promises for tomorrow. You still smell pretty good."
"Great. Now I have to sleep with one eye open."
She laughed, a small, tired sound, and disappeared into the darkness of the closet. Ichigo closed the door.
He was left alone in his broken room, with the night wind blowing in.
"Rich," he scoffed to himself. "Of all the things..."
He leaned his head against the wall. He was tired, but for the first time in a long time, his mind was silent.
And that, somehow, was the most terrifying thing of all.
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