Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Epilogue ❯ Images ( Chapter 3 )

Epilogue

Chapter Three: Images

Five days earlier

“Does it hurt here?” Ichigo gently asks, carefully applying pressure to a young girl's right arm. Her eyes squeeze shut after a certain point, and she nods painfully.

“You're a brave girl,” he congratulates her, causing her to smile at him. “No one has ever survived my deadly techniques before.”

She beams at him. “Except me!” she states proudly, apparently forgetting about the pain in her arm. Ichigo allows himself to smile with her; she is one of his favorite patients, even if she does have a troubling habit of getting herself hurt often. Then again, she takes after her mother, so it is not too surprising.

He writes a few notes on her chart. “No broken bones today,” he tells her jokingly. “Just try to be more careful next time, alright?”

“Okay, Dr. Kurosaki,” she replies, trying to sound like a big girl. “I'll try not to fight school yard bullies anymore.”

He raises an eyebrow to this obvious lie. “Not anymore?”

She laughs at the expression on his face. “Well, only when they really deserve it then.”

He bends down to meet her eyes and sighs. “You're just like your mother.”

“Ichigo!” a voice from behind cries out, and before he knows it his head is pounding.

 

“That is for acting so weird the other day!” Tatsuki explains angrily, before storming down the hallway.

 

The only thing on his mind, besides the obvious pain, is the idea of choking the stuffing out of Kon when he gets home.

 

Tatsuki's daughter is the spitting image of her mother, right down to her love of fighting. He recently found out that she had even enrolled her into a karate class, coincidentally the same one they had both attended when they were younger.

 

“I hope she's not picking on any kids with funny hair styles,” he sighs.

 

Tatsuki's response is to smile while baring her teeth threateningly.

 

Although she no longer looks like a tomboy, she still acts like one, and he's thankful for that.

 

“Orihime,” he says, his voice tightening just a little. “You try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

 

She beams again. “Okay!” she answers, hugging his leg before bouncing off to the waiting room, where her mother is anxiously waiting for her.

 

The main difference between Tatsuki and her daughter is their smile. Tatsuki's smile is the victorious, proud kind of smile that a winner would have. However, her daughter, Orihime, smiles like the woman she was named after.

 

Ichigo always makes sure to make her smile at least once during each visit. She is one of the few people who can make him smile.

 

The door cracks open, and he finds Tatsuki peeking through the doorway, smiling sheepishly.

 

“Thank you, Ichigo,” Tatsuki tells him, quieter than she usually is. “I don't know what I would do without you.”

 

He jots down a few more notes on Orihime's chart. “It's no problem, Tatsuki. Just make sure Orihime is more careful when choosing her battles next time.”

 

She puts a hand to her forehead and sighs. “I can't believe she hurt her arm hitting that punk. He must've had a thick skull.”

 

“You sure are thick, Ichigo,” Tatsuki hisses, before storming off.

 

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Inoue looking at him, an odd look in her eyes. What was she thinking about?

 

“I almost feel sorry for whoever it was,” he sighs wistfully.

 

The tone in Tatsuki's voice suddenly changes. “Ichigo?”

 

“Yes, Ms. Ariswa?” he answers playfully.

 

“Are you coming to dinner tonight?”

 

It is a question that usually does not need answering. His usual routine after working in the clinic is to have dinner with Tatsuki and her daughter. It is one of the high points of his day.

 

But today he feels different. Something in the back of his mind has been bothering him for the last few days. He has a good idea what it might be, but it is not something he likes to dwell on.

 

He shakes his head slowly, thinking of a believable excuse to tell his longtime friend. “Not tonight, Tatsuki. I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on.”

 

He knows that she knows when he's lying, because he tends to blink a lot when he does it. She takes a good look at him, trying to figure out what is wrong, but ultimately decides not to push it.

 

“I understand Ichigo,” she says, looking him square in the eye. “Just know that I'm still here. You're not alone.”

 

“Kurosaki, watch out!” Ishida yells, drawing back on his bow and destroying a Hollow that he had not noticed earlier.

 

“Ichigo, please let me heal your wounds,” Inoue says soothingly, a cool sensation surrounding his worn and tired body.

 

“We will watch each other's backs,” Chad assures him, in that rough-yet-gentle voice of his.

 

Ichigo considers himself lucky, because he can always count on his friends to be there.

 

He nods, knowing that she is right, even though most of their friends are dead now.

 

He and Tatsuki are the only ones still around, still living in Karakura despite everything that has happened in the last fifteen years. Tatsuki stays, he figures, because she is a strong person, stronger than most people he knows.

 

Even without powers, she is, and always has been, a stronger person than him.

 

It occurs to him that perhaps she is also staying because of him, but he does not bring it up.

 

She hesitantly puts her arms around him. “I'm here if you need me.”

 

“I don't need you anymore,” Rukia tells him, her back turned to him.

 

Ichigo embraces his dark-haired friend. “That offer goes both ways.”

 

All they have left is each other.

 

-

 

He breathes a sigh of relief as the last patient for the day leaves the clinic. It has been another long day, and he's feeling more worn out than usual. He reasons that it's probably the inevitable side effects of becoming older.

 

But I'm only thirty, he reminds himself. I'm not even as old as dad was when he ran this clinic, and that old pervert sure had a hell of a lot more energy than I do.

 

His sisters are going to be visiting him two weeks from now. The thought of Yuzu and Karin visiting temporarily helps him forget about the disturbing images that have been bothering him for the last few days.

 

He is dreaming. A full-body mirror has been placed in front of him. His reflection has pale, sickeningly white skin, and in his hands he holds a familiar white mask, waving it around as if to tempt him with it.

 

“Take it,” his reflection suggests, tilting his head and smiling.

 

His brows knit together, finally remembering who it is.

 

It is his Hollow… a twisted, dark version of himself that he has not seen in years. He thought it had been destroyed along with the rest of those bastards.

 

“Use it,” his reflection tells him, the smile on its face widening.

 

His reflection's hands go through the mirror and on to Ichigo's side, offering the mask to him.

 

“Enjoy it,” the image says perversely.

 

The mask has more red markings on it than the last time he saw it. The significance of this chills him to the bone.

 

The mirror shatters and he's awake in his bed, alone and breathing heavily.

 

What the hell was that about?

 

He sighs and leans back in his chair, hoping that his dreams mean nothing. He is not a psychic, nor has he ever had prophetic dreams before…so it could mean nothing.

 

But the life he lived prior to becoming a doctor reminds him that not everything is what it seems.

 

To be continued