Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Healing ❯ Broken ( Chapter 1 )

This story is dedicated to one debbie-chan, a great writer who I endeavor to emulate and learn more from. The dedication came with a catch however: I deliberately left out the ending and challenged Debbie-chan to finish it, which she did, and did a wonderful job on. Her part of the story, titled "Stay with Me," is in chapter 2, though readers should be warned that the rating for that part is NC17, since it contains explicit physical intimacy. As usual, Bleach belongs to Kubo Tate.

Healing: An Ishida-Nemu Romance

Ishida was slumped against the grimy walls of a dark, narrow alley, four to five street punks leering over his battered body. Blood ran from cuts in his lip down his chin, dripping onto and seeping his white shirt with crimson blotches. An ugly gash from a lead pipe on his forehead obscured the vision in his eyes; his glasses were dislodged early on, crushed beneath a boot heel. His immaculate school uniform was in tatters, torn in several places to reveal scrapes and bruises from the abuse he received. Wiping the sweat dripping from his face, one punk pressed his heel against Ishida's chest. “Goddamn prissy… and here I thought we had ourselves a momma's boy with easy money.”

Clouded as his mind was, the Quincy's lips curved upwards at the thought of the three men he managed to floor before he was overpowered; he was still adjusting to the loss of his spiritual powers, and to apply Quincy spells on humans, even ones such as these, was out of the question. For his defiance, Ishida was kicked across the face by his assailant, and more blood spilled onto his uniform. “Some tough guy, huh. I'll fck that pretty face of yours up…”

Ishida didn't care. Since he lost his Quincy powers back in Soul Society, he didn't really care much about anything anymore. He stopped hanging out with Ichigo and the crew, avoided them at school, fearful that they would discover his secret, that he was now powerless; an invalid. He had lost his powers avenging the suffering wrought upon his people and his master, defending the honor of a woman against evil in its most nefarious manifestation… now there was nothing left: He had lost what was most important to him, and there was nothing left to take from him.

He imagined that the only thing worse that could happen to him now was if his friends saw him in this state, rescued him, protected poor, hapless Ishida from being picked on by street punks. The thought of the look of sadness--pity--that would be on Orihime's face cut him deeper than any of his wounds. “Inoue-san…”

Then, as his consciousness began to fade, he suddenly perceived through his weakened senses the distinct presence of reiatsu in the immediate vicinity. Eyes unable to open, he heard terror and confusion from his assailants, screaming and scampering of footsteps. A hollow? Heh, what a way to go…beaten by gangsters, eaten by a hollow…

But the emptying, terrible sensation of his soul being vanquished which he heard so much about never came. In the silence, as unconsciousness slowly overtook him, he felt the gentle touch of a hand against his face. A human? Just before he fell completely into darkness, he felt himself being lifted by a pair of arms, and the rush of sudden movement.

The body that carried him was warm, soft, and had a nice scent. Ishida fell asleep.

**

The world was a blur when his eyes blinked open. My glasses… He could make out the outlines of a ceiling, that he was flat on his back, and that the slightest movement caused his body pain. Shifting his vision sideways, he caught sight of half-drawn curtains and the daylight outside a window. The view was familiar, my apartment, but how...

“You're awake.”

Ishida's eyes widened, surprised at the presence of another in his room. That voice… I've heard it before. Struggling to raise his head, he saw a slender silhouette of a woman dressed in black. She carried a basin of something steaming in her hands and walked towards him, and it was not until she knelt down besides him that Ishida finally recognized her. “You're… Mayuri's…”

Kurotsuchi Nemu looked at Ishida, a faint smile appearing on her expressionless complexion. “You remembered.”

**

A minute later, after Nemu fetched him his spare set of glasses, Ishida found himself in a state of immobility, an unexpected visitor by his side, a million questions in his mind, and his body naked, uncovered but for his boxer shorts covering his most private parts. Presently, it was not his injuries or questions but his nakedness that concerned him the most. “Umm… Nemu-san… where are my clothes?”

Nemu dipped a towel into the basin of hot water by her side, rinsing it out before applying it onto Ishida's chest. “They were destroyed. I removed them so I could tend to your wounds.”

Soothed by the warm, moist cloth that drew tenderly across the sore spots on his skin, Ishida felt himself relax under Nemu's ministration. Turning to observe the girl, he saw that she was still dressed in her dark vice-captain's uniform, the tight fabric and short cut clinging to her form and contrasting with the paleness of her skin. “Why are you here?”

Nemu rinsed the soiled towel in the basin and applied it to the wound on Ishida's forehead, causing him to wince until her fingers traced the spot and seemingly willed the pain away. “By Soul-Society's orders, I'm here to prepare as part of a larger build up to a deployment that will take place in the close future, and if the need should arise, participate as a healer in subsequent operations.”

Build up? Operations? “What is going on?”

Nemu's expression was stolid when she replied. “I have not been authorized to divulge details on the operation.” Watching her with bewildered eyes, Ishida saw her stand up. “I am going to change the water.”

When she returned, she resumed her kneeling position besides him, and pressed the hot towel against his upper thigh, drawing a sigh of relief from Ishida who relished the comforting sensations that emanated from her fingertips. Maybe she's using demon arts… “I didn't know that Nemu-san had the abilities of a healer.”

The shinigami placed her hand against a gash on the Quincy's thigh, and Ishida felt the throbbing pain ebb away as a warm glow appeared over the wound. “I was taught by the captain of the fourth division.”

Ishida remembered the kind woman who had treated him and his comrades, but that still didn't explain... “And Mayuri allowed this?”

Nemu turned her attention to the other leg. “In order for Mayuri-sama to promote artificial gitais as a viable solution to the shinigami's manpower shortage, he felt that I should learn a variety of demon arts, including healing techniques.”

That would be very like him, Ishida thought, to use his… daughter as a promotional exhibit, a demonstrator for his sick technological prowess. He looked at the impassiveness on Nemu's face as she concentrated on his injuries, and his heart went out to the girl, not knowing what sort of existence she must lead, a created being and lab subject to that monster…

But she has a soul… a kinder, gentler soul than most humans. “I think… being a healer suits you.”

Her hands stopped. She lifted her head to look directly at him, and for a moment Ishida held his breath… until a smile appeared over her delicate features, a beautiful sight that warmed his heart and face alike as he found himself returning the smile. “Thank you. That's what captain Unohana said to me as well.”

**

It was late in the afternoon by the time she finished cleaning and dressing his wounds, and the sky outside had turned into brilliant shades of reds and oranges. Nemu told him that by tomorrow he would have recovered completely, and left some medical supplements and a pitcher of water by his bed. As he watched her clean up the room, he was seized by a number of emotions, a slew of desires as she prepared to leave him, back to Soul Society, back into the hands of that madman…

I don't want her to go.

He watched as she knelt beside him for the last time, and his heart constricted when she framed his face with her hand, a look of contentment on her face. “I'll be taking my leave now, Quincy-san. Be well…” Closing her eyes, her free hand splayed gently against his chest, she bent down, lowered her face to the Quincy's, and kissed him.

Ishida's mind was a blur, lost, in the softness of Nemu's lips, the touch of her hands, the smell of her skin and the brush from the end of her braid that tickled his collarbone. When the kiss ended, he found himself breathing hard, and saw that her face was flushed as well, perhaps an illusion from the light of dusk which spilled into the room from behind her, coloring her fair skin. She was smiling at him, her face and body mere inches from his as she spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “…I'm glad to have seen you one more time.”

Ishida looked into her eyes, searching for that small trace of emotion, that betraying bit of human feeling which he knew had to be there… and then he found it; there, mirrored beneath the dark depths of her irises.

Loneliness

Longing

With an abruptness and energy that startled her, Ishida threw his bandaged right arm around Nemu's waist and pulled her onto himself and crushed his lips against hers, and this time when they kissed, it was with all the hunger and pent up passion of two lost individuals, he who lost his goal in life, she who might not have had one to begin with. When they broke apart for want of air, Ishida kept his hold on the girl, who was now sprawled on top of him, her breath short and her cheeks flushed pink; Ishida thought her ravishing. In a low voice hoarse with desire, he pleaded.

“Stay with me.”

**

To be continued... The next chapter is the lemon segment of the story contributed by Debbie-chan. It is very tastefully done, but still a lemon, so if you are uncomfortable with mature content, skip to chapter 3 when it comes out.