Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Damaged ❯ Chapter 1

Damaged

 

Uryu Ishida was once the last remaining Quincy in the world, bestowed with powers beyond that of any normal human being. Able to fight at nearly the same level as a Captain from Soul Society, he was a force to be reckoned with, the one thing that Hollows feared more than Soul Reapers.

 

But now, he was just a simple high school teenager, with the ability to sew together torn up dolls rather well for a boy his age.

 

He did not like being on the sidelines, while his “friends,” or whatever they were, fought all the battles he should've been fighting. It didn't help that he could still see Hollows as clear as day, yet not be able to lift a finger to stop them.

 

“You just relax, Ishida, we can handle this one,” his Soul Reaper friend had told him, unaware of how much those words had stung the Quincy.

 

He wasn't supposed to relax. He was supposed to be out there, along with Sado and Inoue, fighting those monsters that threatened the lives of every single human on the planet.

 

He was a Quincy at heart, and to suddenly be normal again was not something he particularly enjoyed.

 

It was a great indignity to be left in the dust, especially in the dust of a Soul Reaper, the natural enemy of any Quincy…even if the aforementioned Soul Reaper was his rival-turned-reluctant-friend Ichigo Kurosaki.

 

It was after school, and he was at the Handicrafts Club as usual, sitting and reading a book, wishing not to be disturbed.

 

`But if you didn't want to be disturbed, you wouldn't have come in today,' he thought wryly to himself. `You would've just gone home and sulk, feeling sorry for yourself.'

 

The girls chattering mindlessly behind him did not help his mood. The lack of attention he was getting from just about everyone was also quite bothersome, although he would never admit it openly. The last thing he wanted to do was lose the quiet, cool loner reputation he had managed to build up.

 

“Did you hear about Kurosaki?” one girl behind him said, “I heard that someone is interested in him.”

 

Uryu froze, straining his ears to eavesdrop on the girls' conversation. `Who would be stupid enough to fall for that orange-haired loser?' he said to himself, secretly hoping it wasn't who he thought it was.

 

“I heard it was Orihime!” giggled a girl, imitating her facial expression. “Some people were talking and they think that she and Kurosaki were vacationing together during the summer. Makes sense, don't-cha think?”

 

Uryu wanted to yell out, “It wasn't just them! I was there too!” before realizing how awkward that would've sounded. Not to mention the whole Soul Society part of the story. He struggled to maintain his composure, trying not to show how…jealous he had been?

 

His head was aching now. No need to further complicate his relationship with his still relatively new friend. He liked her just the way she was; entertaining the idea of a romantic scenario with her was out of the question.

 

Although recently, when he was especially miserable given recent events, the idea of her comforting him was an idea nonetheless entertained by him.

 

He had had to resist the urge to remember that she almost undressed in front of him, back in Soul Society, when they had borrowed some Soul Reaper clothes so that they could fit in.

 

Uryu shook his head free of such thoughts and proceeded to read his book, but quickly lost interest in it. He closed the book and set it down on his desk, hoping that something would happen to distract him from whatever the hell he was feeling.

 

A wave of energy momentarily passed through him, and he realized that a Hollow that he had sensed earlier had soundly been defeated by Ichigo, no doubt.

 

He looked expectantly at his right hand, hoping for it to crackle with blue spirit energy like it once had many times in the past. His hands still remembered the feel of energy being gathered into his hands, to be molded into a bow and arrow, and used to serve him in his quest to protect innocents.

 

For a second, he thought he could see a faint glimmer of spiritual energy, but he blinked and it was gone. He slammed his hand on his desk in a mixture of disgust and anger, startling the rest of the assembled club.

 

A meek girl walked up to him. “Are you alright, Ishida…?”

 

He looked around, and realized that all the girls were staring at him. “I…I'm sorry, I need to go now.”

 

He turned around, grabbed his bag, and left the room, unable to shake the oppressive feeling that he was utterly useless.

 

~

 

Uryu sat on the steps of the school, too embarrassed to go back to the Handicrafts Club and weary of returning home.

 

He noted that another Hollow had been defeated by Ichigo, who he knew had difficulty hiding his spirit energy.

 

“It's bad enough that I don't have any powers of my own. It's even worse that the idiot has more power than he knows what to do with,” he said bitterly, his old feelings about his rival coming out.

 

He was so focused on his rage and Ichigo's growing spiritual energy that he did not notice a slightly small figure sitting down next to him, effectively frightening him when she leaned in close, wondering what he was doing.

 

He jumped back in terror, arms up in a defensive position.

 

“Ah, good afternoon, Ishida!” proclaimed Inoue, cheerfully clapping her hands together.

 

The color red managed to find its way on to his cheeks, as he adjusted glasses back into place. “You shouldn't startle someone like that, Orihime. I almost attacked you!”

 

She simply smiled at him, unaware of how rapidly his heart was beating in response to her presence. “You're so funny, Ishida! Come, sit with me.”

 

She motioned for him to sit next to her, patting the spot with a hand and a smile on her features.

 

He complied, not for a second wondering whether or not to say no, and sat next to her.

 

There was a comfortable silence as they sat together, him not wanting to disturb it for fear of ruining the…moment? Was this what it was?

 

`Couldn't be,' he thought to himself dejectedly. `The thought never even crossed her mind.'

 

She hums, and he absently realizes that her spiritual energy was much larger than he had previously recorded. `Soul Society had changed all of them for the better…except him,' he noted bitterly.

 

“What are you doing here, Inoue?” he asked, choosing his words carefully, trying to remain composed.

 

She hugged her knees to her rather large chest, a feat he didn't think was possible, and looks at the sky. “I just thought you could use the company.”

 

“What makes you think I need company?” he said, realizing too late that he might've sounded a little too harsh.

 

But she smiled at him instead of being offended. “You're acting more Ishida than normal, so I thought you were feeling a little down. I hate to see any of my friends look so down! So, I decided to spend some time with you today.”

 

He couldn't help but feel a bit pleased at being called her friend. The idea of spending time with a girl like her would be any man's dream, but for Ishida it was more than that.

 

Being a Quincy had left little time for any sort of relationship, besides the one that he had forged with his grandfather.

 

“How about we go to my apartment, and I make you something to eat!” she declared in a flash of inspiration. “You're so skinny! We need to pack those bones of yours with some good old fashioned cooking, if you want to become better again.”

 

He was about to mention that he had other things to do, but before he could open his mouth she took hold of his hand and led the way, leaving little room for argument.

 

~

 

The Quincy sat down, uncomfortable as he had not been to Orihime's small but cozy apartment often, especially by himself. It was a much happier environment compared to his rather oppressive and perpetually dark living space.

 

`I wouldn't mind spending the night here - what the hell am I thinking, get a grip!'

 

He looked around, distracting himself with pictures strewn around of people that he knew or had seen around before, such as the class representative Tatsuki. And then there was a picture of that damn Ichigo, with his usual scowl alongside Rukia, who frowning as well.

 

He noticed that there was a picture of him, taken while he must not have been looking. It depicted him reading a book in Handicrafts Club, looking rather grim and not at all sociable. Of all the pictures she could've have taken, she chose him at what appeared to be his worst. There was writing at the bottom of the picture.

 

Uryu Ishida.

 

She had dotted his two “I's” with hearts, he had realized upon closer inspection.

 

He suddenly felt even more uncomfortable, feeling he did not belong in such a happy girl's apartment, waiting to be served well-meaning but ultimately inedible food.

 

`You'll hurt her feelings if you leave now,' he thought to himself, though the idea of using his sewing kit to stealthily open the front door proved more tempting by the second.

 

Ultimately, he decided to at least wait until she was in the room before he would thank her for her hospitality and then make his hasty exit.

 

She came in moments later, carrying a plate of what appeared to be two plates of waffles and two glasses of milk.

 

“It's not much,” she said, ever present smile on her face, “But I thought that you might like something…familiar.”

 

He had to suppress a laugh, partly from the fact that she had implicitly revealed that even she thought her eating habits were unusual.

 

However, what humored him more was that it was nearly evening, and the idea of eating breakfast for dinner was uncanny for Uryu. Orihime, he realized, had not thought such a thing to be out of place.

 

“Thank you, this looks delicious,” he said, bowing politely.

 

“You're welcome,” she replied, bowing in return.

 

They both sat down, proceeding to eat their meals in silence at her small living room table.

 

~

 

He had insisted on helping her wash the dishes, ignoring her pleas to make himself comfortable while he was a guest at her home.

 

“I'd be comfortable helping you, rather than having you do all the work,” he said coolly, adjusting his glasses.

 

They were now washing the dishes together, although he made sure he did not brush her hands with his. `No need to make the situation any more awkward for yourself,' he thought.

 

He looked at his hands, and painfully remembered that the best they could do now was sew up damaged dolls.

 

Orihime perked up, at the same time dropping the dish she had been scrubbing. The Quincy paused a second later, feeling that familiar wave of spirit energy past through him and the woman next to him, alerting them to another Hollow being defeated by their mutual friend.

 

“Ichigo,” she whispered softly, looking out a window, as if she expected to see his triumphant self.

 

When she finally managed to pry her eyes from the window, she noticed that her Quincy friend was gone, leaving behind broken pieces of what used to be a plate.

 

~

 

Uryu Ishida bitterly remembered why he didn't try to make friends before.

 

`What were her intentions, anyways?' he thought bitterly. `It's not like I'm Kurosaki.'

 

That last thought disturbed him greatly. He took off his glasses and rubbed at his tired eyes, wishing that he was out there too, saving the world like that orange-hair idiot that seemed to be the center of everyone's attention.

 

He could not even claim he was the last remaining Quincy. Due to his actions in Soul Society, his once proud tribe was now dead. He had failed all of them, especially his beloved grandfather.

 

If he was a weaker man, he might've broken down against the door of his shabby apartment, and let out all the swirling emotions he was feeling inside.

 

If he was a stronger man, he would've done something about his situation, find a way to regain his Quincy powers and return to his friends.

 

But he was just a man.

 

In his haste to leave he did not realize that he had cut himself on the plate he was holding earlier, and he mentally scolded himself for allowing himself to be controlled by petty emotions. The cut hadn't torn anything important, but it was still bleeding profusely. If he still had his powers, he could've used spirit energy to increase his body's natural ability to heal small wounds like these.

 

But he, much like his hand, was too damaged to do such a simple thing anymore.

 

End

 

~

 

Alternate

 

They were now washing the dishes together, although he made sure he did not brush her hands with his. `No need to make the situation any more awkward for yourself,' he thought.

 

Inoue smiled at the Quincy, noticing how uncomfortable he looked. She slipped her fingers expertly under his, and made a content sound.

 

She heard him swallow loudly, and though their hands were under the water she could feel his pulse race.

 

“You would look much better if you didn't look so gloomy, Ishida,” she said, smiling at him.

 

He reddened considerably, and coughed, going back to cleaning dishes, with his free hand…which was proving to be a much more difficult task as he managed to drop one of the plates on to the floor.

 

He frantically tried to pick up one of the pieces, mumbling apologies the whole time, and he made a loud, uncharacteristic yelp. She saw that he had accidentally cut his hand, and without hesitating, deftly took hold of it with both her palms. She closed her eyes, her hairclips suddenly glowing with an ethereal light.

 

Ishida watched as his hand was enveloped in a triangle shaped dome, as Orihime's magical fairies healed (or reversed the time and space continuum, he hadn't been clear on the specifics) surrounding the area of his hand that had been cut.

 

The fairies nodded to her as they finished their job, before returning to wherever they came from.

 

They had left no visible marks on his hand, doing a better job of repairing him than he at repairing dolls. He was impressed, flexing his hand and smiling at Orihime.

 

“Good as new,” he said, showing her.

 

And that's when he noticed it. He had to adjust his glasses when he thought he saw something from the corner of his eye, something that he didn't think he'd see again.

 

He held out his hand away from himself, realizing what was happening: he was gathering energy, spiritual energy from his surroundings and into the palm of his hand, slowly forming into a blue colored bow of light.

 

He could only stare in disbelief at his bow and Inoue, wondering how she had managed to fix him.

 

“Thank you, Inoue,” he said, voice shaking slightly, emotions threatening to overtake him as he adjusted his glasses, struggling to maintain his composure.

 

She smiled at him knowingly, needing no further praise from the Quincy. “You're welcome, Quincy-Ishida.”

 

End