Bleach © Kubo Tite

588 words

First Bleach piece- please be kind!- Lirance

Note- there may be a sequel of sorts.

Kon slumped against the wall, eyes closed. He sometimes wondered what it would be, to have his own form, to raise his own hand, to look at the people passing by through his own eyes, not through Ichigo's eyes, or the eyes of a soft toy. What you feel is what you are. He didn't feel like a fifteen-year-old boy, or a stuffed lion. In some ways, he was a child…in some, he was the one who could look down on the others.

No father, no mother. Ichigo had Karin, Yuzu, even his crazy otouchan. Rukia had the Kuchiki clan, and her nii-sama. Inoue had no family, but she had once felt the touch of a brother, parents. Sado had had his grandfather.

None of them seem to find it strange that Kon inquired so penetratingly about their families- what relationships did they have? How did they behave towards one another? How did they feel when they lost them, or saw them in danger? Well…Rukia had slapped him for asking Inoue that one. But…he would have liked to have just had parents, even just to lose them.

Sometimes he felt completely disconnected. His father was a man holding a test tube somewhere in a Soul Society lab. A scientist carefully stimulating neurones with a scalpel. A shinigami who would destroy him if he even guessed at his existence.

Kon liked to imagine that he had a father, but the mysterious scientist, the man standing thousands of miles and barriers away, wasn't truly his father. Sometimes he liked to picture an illusory set of parents. His mother would look something like Inoue- cute, red haired, big eyed, smiling. His father would also be smiling; handsome, intelligent, strong. In the night, he dreamed of his dirty, carnal, imaginary beginnings in a bed somewhere, then immediately felt dirty afterwards.

Well…that mysterious scientist had effectively sold him anyway. Condoned his destruction, planned his execution, laid out the lines for his murder. Decided that he would die on the day that he was born.

December 30. He loathed that day, wanted to rip that page from the calendar, tear, slice, shred, burn. Birthday and death day in one. Not many people could say that.

He woke Ichigo every morning. Knew what it was to wake up alone. Wanted to run away some mornings.

Kon liked many things. Not pretty girls, not annoying Ichigo, not looking up nee-san's skirt. They were simply diversions. He liked the thought of running away- he'd already done it, twice, never tired of it. He liked the dark songs that Ichigo sometimes listened to- being alone and fleeing and pain. Something he could relate to. Something that reflected his own life. Brief, catatonic and miserable. Made him want to dance.

What you feel is what you are. He didn't know if he was really male or female, adult or child, human or Shinigami or something else. That perspective was what he lacked. He could say what he liked, what he disliked, what he wanted, but not what he was. That eluded him.

Pale sunlight was streaming in through the window. Kon opened his eyes, and prepared to give Ichigo his wake-up call. After all, it was a distraction. Didn't feel so much like running away this morning…this would be a strong enough longing to fill him in its stead. And to push back the longings for parents and a dirty carnal human beginning in a bed somewhere and a sense of self and place and person and…

"Ichigo!"

"Kyaaaaaah!"