FanFiction.Net - unleash your imagination
| FanFiction.Net - unleash your imagination |
|
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
Nyah, this was supposed to be a multi-chapter, but the idea flopped. I might eventually come back to this, but until then, no, sorry…
Also, this story was supposed to be called 'The Next Life', but that was also there for a runnig theme within the main story, which isn't being written, so, blah.
Fate's Choice
‘This is a report coming in live from Karakura town…’
Most, would probably call it fate, or destiny. Others would think karma while the third party would stand by pure coincidence.
‘…Police and firefighters are on the scene of a massive blaze which is roaring across an entire block of residential homes….’
But I, I would name it as tragic.
‘…There is no official comment at this time as to what caused the fire, but experts seem to be leaning towards a major gas explosion…’
“Kisuke,” I say, looking away from the blaring box Jinta is always hoarding to himself, catching sight of my last relative as he stands and makes his way towards the sliding door here within his home in the mortal realm. The room is darkened, as though shadowed with dread, only the light from the box casting stark shadows across the walls.
As always, his stripped top hat is over his straw-like hair, a few whiskers protruding from his chin as always as he doesn’t look back at me with his shadowed gaze. Wearing his black haori with its diamond pattern around his shoulders, I watch as he pauses, one hand out to grasp his zanpaktou where it is hidden within his cane.
“You don’t think that…” I murmur from my seat, able to feel the eyes of the two children, Ururu and Jinta, as well as Tessai’s soft gaze on me as I speak.
‘…There has been no sign of any survivors thus far…’
“I’ll admit that I am worried about Kurosaki-san.” My cousin’s words seem faint as my eyes are once again drawn to the television, a slim woman in a grey outfit sitting at a wide desk with papers in her hands, a shrunken image of what was once taking up the whole screen sitting off in the corner.
“But I won’t intervene unless needed. Their pride wouldn’t allow for it.”
There are people everywhere, what was once my home now lying before them as nothing more than a pile of charred rubble. A police line is hung between where we stand and where they are gathered, murmuring. Already, flowers are collecting along that row, familiar faces, most of them. Some ashen white, some wailing aloud, yet still more silent with tear-soaked faces, and one by one they all leave.
‘Daddy!’ Yuzu cries, and I turn my swirling gaze towards her. I feel dizzy, as though every movement were being carried out underwater. As though a strong current is spinning me round and round despite any attempts to right myself.
I can see her though, my sister, dressed in the pale rose of her nightgown, her blonde hair curling in around her chin and tousled from sleep. She’s so clear to me though, unlike the ashen-faced people, her lines are crisp while the world around us seems smudged ever so slightly. Her back is to me now though, black staining her clothing and bare legs, her arms abnormally red as she flings herself into the embrace of the Shinigami, Soul Reaper, standing before her.
My joker of a father is standing there, opening his arms as he drops to his knees. No smile is spread across his wide face, the twinkle in his dark eyes replaced with an empty darkness. Suddenly, I want to run to him too, lines of wet streaming down his face as he holds her so close to him, and yet delicately at the same time, as though she were made of fine crystal and glass.
I know I won’t move though, because my ash-covered hands are already fisted in the dark material of my brother’s clothing, the same Shinigami outfit my father’s wearing covers Ichi-nii as well, while his arms hold me close just like my father and sister are embraced.
I feel so strange, so cold and frightened. Yes, frightened. It’s a worse fear than any else I’ve felt before, this uncertainty is boundless. The stench of burnt flesh fills my nose, while smoke burns my eyes to make them tear up even worse than this unending dread already has them. I’m crying, burying my face against Ichi-nii’s shoulder, and the fact that the tears keeps coming only makes me more afraid, only makes me want to cry more.
We were asleep, Yuzu and I. I remember getting up in the middle of the night for some water, and unlocking Ichi-nii’s pet lion from the cupboard where he’d jammed one of Yuzu’s spoons in between the handles. All that I remember next, was a massive explosion, and fire filling my eyes.
Everything blacked out, light and dark fading entirely to leave me with this eerie, discoloured vision. I tumbled head over heels and side to side for what felt like forever. I was dropping from an unnamed height, and couldn’t stop myself. Pain clawed across my back and knives pierced through my lungs. And then I was like this. All I can really feel my brother’s arms, and… that just makes me want to cry even more…
“Don’t cry…” He whispers softly in my ear, one of his hands resting just behind my head as I feel him stand, keeping his arms around me securely to lift me as well. There’s the sound of metal scraping against wood, but it sounds so faint and echoing that I don’t even know if I’m really hearing it or not.
“But… Ichi-nii…” I whimper, only to have him hush me softly with a kiss to the side of my head. He carries me for a short distance before setting me down again, and I can pry one tearful eye open and see Yuzu and dad where they’re still kneeling with one another. But he pulls away slightly, meeting her tearing eyes with his before he places a soft kiss on her forehead and reaches for his sword.
“Stay together,” He says softly, touching my sister’s hair and holding her head gently as I feel Ichi-nii nuzzle against my cheek softly. It’s more affection from him than I’ve received or accepted in to long for me to really remember. All I know is that I just hug him even tighter before Yuzu and I seem to trade places. We’re all so close now really that it’s only a step between my brother and my father, before I’m being held by him instead.
“Why are we… saying goodbye?” Yuzu asks softly, her voice almost meek and drowning in the same sadness and confusion I can feel welling up inside of me at the same time. Her words mirroring my thoughts as we’ve always done for one another; this feels… like a goodbye.
“Only… Only for a little while.” Dad says; I feel his lips press against my forehead before I can bring my face up to look at him. Confusion, sadness, and now this cold, chilling feeling seems to crawl up my limbs. They’re sending us away? Why would they—
“Stay together,” Ichi-nii repeats softly, untangling Yuzu’s hands from his clothing as I feel myself being scooted towards my sister gently. I think it’s more or less out of old, unpracticed habit between the two of us, but instantly our arms fly around one another. I hug her just as tightly as she does me, and I find perhaps my strongest point of strength with her, instead of either my father or brother. I feel myself holding onto her like a lifeline, her holding on in the same way, the both of us watching the Shinigami before us… Why is Ichi-nii holding his sword?
“Be strong, and stay together…” Dad whispers to us, his eyes rimmed in red as he speaks, Ichi-nii’s eyes shadowed and his expression unreadable. Both of them are gripping the hilts of their swords with white-knuckles, and I feel Yuzu shaking slightly as a few soft whimpers work their way up her throat.
“I’ll find you,” I close my eyes for some reason, feeling a dull pressure on my forehead, before I’m suddenly falling. Yuzu vanishes from my arms, my twin, my other half lost to me as my senses feel nothing. I feel nothing. I am nothing. All of the emotion drains out and away from me, like water through sand.
‘Don’t be afraid… Soul Society is… a peaceful place.’
Where the water strikes the ground, it hisses like acids. The guilt is eating through all self-glorifying belief. But the sadness of the rain, the mourning black of the clouds spanning far above an empty city, they are but grains of sand in the endless desert of emotions.
It burns, the pain of it all burns with a flame so hot and angered that it is white; a blaze flaring high above the roofs of the endless streets. Belief dies before me as I stand here. The belief in his ability to protect, and the ideal that maybe, just maybe he was strong enough now.
From behind a film of blue, I nod to see the latter burn. There is a time to cease the quest for power, but not yet. This ideal has been creeping throughout the city like a thin mist, clinging to the inside of windows now shattered by the turmoil of the Inner World. I am glad to see it gone.
I turn my shielded eyes towards that midnight sky, feeling the torrent of his anguish washing down across my face, dripping through my untamed dark hair, streaming down the open collar of my tattered black jacket to soak the clothing underneath. Watching the light of the flames burn on unperturbed by the water is a sight, as if that same water were nothing but fuel for this inferno. But how high will he allow it to burn before he controls it, or allows it to consume him?
His rage is linked to mine it seems; our minds, our hearts, are bound together as only Sword and Soldier can be. The pain which drowns his city ripples through my being as well, as does his resolve to set things right.
I step forwards, out and towards the blazing white before me from atop my perch. The small round knob of the flag pole I so often stand atop rolls out from beneath one booted foot, and the world shifts and distorts itself, breaking apart into many thousands of pieces, reforming once more to allow my toes to touch down simply on charred debris in the light of the Living World.
“Don’t even say it!” I stand behind him, but move with fluid ease to his side, wary of how roughly he handles my form in one clutched hand. Brown eyes afire while hot tears stream down his pained face, his voice catching as he gestures violently with his free hand towards the Shinigami who sired him. Konso is complete.
“Ichigo, please, listen to me!” Dark hair cropped against his head and yet left to grow atop it in a stiff manner, and that coupled with the square cut of his beard gives my Wielder’s father a face of sharp angles and lines. Gone are the carefree laughs and foolhardy remarks though, his eyes are pained, and his Companion stands off to his right as I stand to my Wielder’s left. Our eyes catch one another’s for a brief moment before the both of us watch the brewing argument which blinds both Shinigami from our presences.
“No! I will not abandon them to try living with a Gigai! Listen to yourself! A Gigai!?” It is as though all I have merely done is turn my back to the white flames, for I can feel their heat licking at my heels even as I stand here. His orange hair seems to flare in an unfelt wind, his spiritual power surging around him violently with his emotions. A few years ago, someone might have feared this state leaving him exposed to the Hollow within, but I who know better, can clearly see how in this state, that alter-ego would be thrashed within a moment’s notice. He’s becoming so volatile inside that his focus is astoundingly clear.
“Ichigo, son, please, listen to me before you rush into this!” His father cries, and I choose now to dismiss him. His emotions run as high as his son’s, but he lacks the force and conviction to make my Wielder submit to him. The respect between them is very high, but in this battle of wills, the pained father will surely lose.
“Give it to me!” I do not blink as I feel no surprise to have Ichigo move swiftly across the distance between the two of them, his hand out towards his father as his eyes still burn and the tears still fall. “You… you weren’t banished from Soul Society, you left to boycott Urahara’s exile! Give me your Hell Butterfly! Come with me or give it to me!”
Soul Society; too find them. I nod slightly and step forward, more or less just sliding through the air though, following both my form and my Wielder. Ichigo has no Hell Butterfly; as he is human, he has merely been a tool used by Soul Society to put down Hollow threats in this city for the past two years. The one or two other times he’s entered Soul Society since the Anncanar fiasco were escorted because he has neither official Shinigami training, nor direct ties to any of the Thirteen Divisions.
I tilt my head to the side as I feel another presence in the area, my eyes pinning onto a small dark shape sitting atop one of the nearby buildings. I dismiss this as well a moment later as I recognize the Reiatsu as belonging to Urahara, the Shop Owner.
Regrettably, while analyzing his Spiritual power, I find myself missing a small section of the conversation. And yet, at the same time, as I know my Wielder will get his way at least in part, I do not feel amazingly inclined to listen to the rest.
The tense words continue to fire back and forth between father and son, but it isn’t so much a dramatic battle of wills so much as two grieving family members trying to sort out a reasonable plan of action. Any other family would result in them both merely going back to their lives, offering prayers for the two girls each day with the prayers to the mother. But when it is two Shinigami, it is quiet possible to follow diseased loved ones without following in the motions humans have named Suicide.
“What life is left here for me!?” Ichigo’s hands reach out now instead to grasp the collar of his father’s shirt and bring them both to the same level. I find myself listening once again, “I can’t graduate this spring because I can’t sit through a single class without rushing off to fight! I can’t get a job for the same reason, and no!” His hands shake as his tears begin to overcome him.
I feel the fire failing at my back as the rains pound ever harder against his inner world. Before his father, his knees go weak, and I watch him fall to his knees with a weakening grip on the other man. I stand directly by his side as I know is my duty as his Companion, and yet even now I can still feel that iron resolve despite his resounding sorrow.
“I can’t let you take the burden for me, I won’t let you! What point is there in staying here if there’s no one left?! Yuzu, Karin, Mom; they’re all over there, but not us!” His head comes up, and I find my own gaze trailing off towards the far horizon, not needing to see the forceful stubbornness in his dark eyes being blurred by his grief. He will not be swayed. Ichigo is far to set in his ways to allow himself to be turned away from what he believes to be his path.
I believe that it is because of this unrelenting loyalty to those around him; his commitment to those who reside within his inner circle which is what draws so very many people to him in the first place. I look past the horizon now and lean back slightly, allowing his material realm to fade in favour of returning to the Inner World I dwell within. He needs not my guidance in this matter, unlike his father; with whom a near-silent conversation is being held between Sword and Wielder.
My Companion shall have his way, in one form or another, he shall have his way. And I know to whom he will go to in order to walk his path should his father actually be able to deny his son’s wishes.
I take a shy step forwards towards the large tomb-stone before me, a picture frame sitting on the stone ledge around the Kurosaki Family grave. Kneeling, my black skirt is constricting as I hold out the last slim rod of incense I brought with me, gently pressing it into the tiny jar of sand left behind by the cemetery’s Keeper. The smooth black stone is freshly washed, I even helped, I’d thought that by doing so that I could see him again, but he didn’t appear.
“Kurosaki-kun… Ichigo…” I murmur, the rain beginning to soak down my brown hair where it’s pinned back with my brother’s hair-pins. Already darkening the black shoulders of the sweater I have on over a grey shirt, a wide black hat sitting atop my head with a grey ribbon attached to it to keep the rain away from my already wet face. I dressed as well as I could for this, their funeral. Tatsuki-chan and I went shopping without any smiles, but she’s back at the gates with the rest of the procession now.
The smiles in the picture mock me, as I feel hollowed out on the inside, as though something were carving into me to gut me like a fish. There are two pictures actually; one of the five members of the Kurosaki family, taken before Kurosaki-kun’s mother passed away. Kurosaki-san is holding the two daughters, while Kurosaki-kun stands between both parents where his mother is seated and his father standing. It’s difficult to tell that Kurosaki-san used a Gigai until you look to the other, more recent picture of the family, only four now, and see that his face hasn’t changed in the slightest. The four of them standing outside their clinic, smiling happily, the same image was used in the newspaper three days ago too…
Not one member of the Kurosaki family appeared today, not Yuzu-chan, Karin-chan, or even Kurosaki-san. But least of all the one I wanted to see… He couldn’t even say good-bye, could he?
This picture was taken just last March, when Kurosaki-kun, Chad-kun, Tatsuki-chan, Kiego-kun, Ishida-kun, and Mizuiro-kun and all the rest of us entered our final year of high school. It hurts to see it now, a year later.
I don’t remember much of the service, there was nothing done at the site of their home, but I noticed a small, temporary shrine when I passed by this morning on route to the cemetery. I want to know what happened to them all, what happened that night. I asked Urahara-san, and Yuroichi-san, and they told me it had been a Hollow strike which had set fire to the storage rooms within the Clinic. That’s how I know that Karin-chan and Yuzu-chan were really the ones to die, and that not one of us so much as crossed his mind before he ran off to Soul Society.
He didn’t even stay for his own funeral, didn’t even say good-bye to any of us, one of the few luxuries of being a Shinigami, and he didn’t even take advantage of it to tell us he would be alright! My eyes tear up uncontrollably and I bring one hand up over my mouth to stifle a cry as I lower my head, trying to calm down. It won’t work though, he ran off without so much as a look back… Urahara-san told me so himself with an amused laugh, as though he were intrigued by Kurosaki-kun’s strong focus when set upon a goal. All I can see when I close my eyes is the image of his black-clothed form running with his back to me, hand on Zangetsu as he charges off and away without even glancing over his shoulder to see what he’s leaving behind.
“So like him to go out with a bang.” A clear, crisp voice behind me speaks, and I don’t look up even as I feel the rain stop falling over me, although it still strikes the pavement all around. Ishida-kun’s voice reachs me as I try to wipe away the hot tears pouring from my eyes, looking up towards where he is standing over me in a long black coat and umbrella over the both of us. Around his ankles his pants are starched and his shoes a glossy black, his hair is well combed as some unpronounced source of light reflects off of his glasses to hide his eyes from me. He could be looking to the tombstone, myself, or the trees beyond the ridge and I couldn’t tell the difference. “To go off without saying goodbye. So like a Shinigami to forego thinking through the results of his actions before rushing ahead like a buffoon.”
“Please… Ishida-kun, not today…” I say softly, dropping my eyes from him as I feel his gaze moving from wherever it was before to focus entirely on me instead. “Just for today… don’t mock him.”
The silence once I finish speaking is so complete, only the endless crackle of the rain around us both breaking it, but at the same time seeming only to really drone on in the background, like the music played in the far corner of a busy restaurant. Slowly, softly, I can feel my own thoughts picking back up, repeating like a mournful chant from my heart, echoing in my ears. I feel almost betrayed… He just left… just like that.
“..You’ll catch a chill if you stay out here much longer, Orihime.” Ishida-kun’s voice comes more softly this time, and I look to him this time too find one black gloved hand extended towards me. It’s one of the rare moments where he’ll use my first name. It happens sometimes, with Chad-kun or other people, but it’s rarest from Ishida-kun… It’s when he isn’t thinking like a Quincy, but rather as a person.
“That’s something he can’t do, isn’t it?” I ask softly, slipping my hand into his and finding myself surprised that it’s so warm, Ishida-kun is built lightly, but his grip is strong and firm. His lips are parted slightly as I stand, his eyes shifting and the glare from his glasses passing to show the faint confusion marking his face. “He can’t stop thinking like a Shinigami, Kurosaki-kun. He walks the path of a soldier to devotedly, he just ignores the rest of us when we aren’t apart of his missions, doesn’t he?”
For a moment, I almost think that I see Ishida-kun sigh, before giving me what looks like a sympathetic look. His thin, angled face is so much different when he doesn’t cover it up with that cold mask of indifference. He has softer eyes when he relaxes, less intense than Kurosaki-kun’s, but, I think they’re still as stubborn.
I blink and watch him slightly as the umbrella is suddenly no longer being held over our heads. Ishida-kun takes a few steps forwards before kneeling down before the grave, setting the wide black covering on the small ledge. He allows the handle to slip off towards the paved ground, shielding the photos and incense from further rain.
“You’ll see him again eventually, Orihime.” He says softly before standing again. I can merely watch him before I smile softly, almost sadly really.
“Maybe… but never the same way.” I answer, feeling my eyes burn as the cold rain is once again dripping onto my shoulders, but only for a moment before Ishida-kun’s gloved hands slip in the deep pockets of his jacket and pull out a large cylinder. The sharp click of metal snaps coming undone, the water-resistant fabric brushing against itself and rods locking into place before a second umbrella is now being held above us. I can only look up at him with a bit of confusion.
“You brought two, Ishida-kun?” I hear myself ask, noticing the corners of my mouth pulling up despite myself. He gives me that smile that really isn’t a smile at all, his eyes looking at me from their corners as he gestures for me to begin walking. Through the hazy rain ahead I can see Chad-kun’s large form looming just ahead as if waiting for the two of us to reach him.
“ Quincy never forget to bring spares. We always think through our plans, and look before we leap. We never slam doors shut behind us for the sake of chasing dreams, because some missions aren’t always worth going through with.”
If anyone feels like continuing this story what with how I’ve set it up, feel free to PM me so we can discuss it. Otherwise, I’m afraid this really is just a one-shot.