Well, ladies and gentlemen, the time has come. I have decided to venture beyond the world of games and into the world of manga and anime. And so, I present to you… the disclaimer!
Bleach is owned by Tite Kubo, meaning it does not belong to me. I am in no way, shape, and/or form claiming to be the owner/creator of these concepts, though I do claim any characters not apart of the original Bleach storyline (such as Amalia) mine. As such, I would appreciate fellow authors and readers to give credit where credit is due and not steal any of my characters and/or concepts. Thank you, and have a pleasant day.
(Staring Contest with a Wall)
Death can do weird things to a person's social life.
For example; when you're dead, you can't talk to the people you knew when you were alive. …Kinda self-evident, I know. They're alive and you're… dead. I shouldn't have to say that, but that was just an example. But, anyway, you're dead, no more talkie to the people you knew… if they're still alive.
For another example, you also get to meet all sorts of interesting, new people. And no, I don't mean like those people who have wings and wear halos and shiny white robes. That's… somewhere else, I guess. No, in the kind of death I'm talking about, the people look just like you and me… with a few exceptions, of course. Like those people on the other side of the big white wall.
Now, I may have been called some odd things in my life, but those people (the ones on the other side of the wall, that is) are some real characters. Take their clothes, for instance. I cannot imagine that those robes (hakamas, I think they're called in plural, of course. singular is hakama) being the least bit warm! …Then again, I've never worn one, so maybe I'm wrong. Other than that, though, those people beyond the white wall just give off this… vibe. Like the kind you get when you know you've met someone weirder than you or someone who could seriously kick you're a (pardon my use of harsh letters).
Fortunately, though, there are some things in life that still apply in death. Like the fact that people still stare at you when you sit in the middle of the street. …With your legs crossed in the typical 'butterfly' fashion. …And your eyes trained on one thing and one thing only. …And when you don't respond to human contact whatsoever.
…That's what I've been doing ever since I got here. Sitting, staring, and not socializing. Now, that may not be so weird if two, count them, two factors were to change. The first; they probably wouldn't stare at me if I hadn't been sitting in the middle of the road and staring at one thing and one thing only for about two weeks. Second; they probably wouldn't stare at me if I hadn't been sitting in the middle of the road for about two weeks and staring at the wall.
That huge, white, formidable thing that separates us from them; we normal people and those characters I mentioned earlier, the ones in the hakamas.
When I first came to here, it was already looming over me, staring at me with its huge whiteness and mocking me with its formidable 'go ahead and try to get past me'-ness. The wall was challenging me.
So, to honor the wall's most respectful and simple challenge, I promptly headed to the first open street I could find and sat down in the middle of it, roughly forty feet from the wall. And thus the staring contest began.
Now, you may question how I could possibly get in a staring contest with a wall, but I assure you that was not my true intention. You see, the 'staring contest' was but a simple ruse to throw the wall off so that I could begin planning my real exploit; to get on the other side of the wall.
Ha! Take that, wall! Because you're an inanimate object made to keep me out, once I get on the other side of you I can claim true victory!
Alas, the task may prove to be harder than I originally thought. You see, while I was sitting here engaging the wall in friendly, non-violent combat, I was also taking the opportunity to learn as much as I could about this place I was in without moving or raising suspicion. And the best way to do that is through the gossip of those around me.
From what I've gathered, this whole place I am in is called the "Soul Society", the realm where the souls of the dearly departed go. The Soul Society is broken into two parts; the Rukon District (the public placewhere the normal people live) and the Seireitei (the private placethe place where those people in the hakamas live, along with a few noble families, apparently).
The wall, apparently, is what separates the two parts and keeps them apart, along with the help of some freakishly strong people who guard the few (and I mean few only four, resting at North, South, East, and West) entrances to the Seireitei.
Fortunately, the street I happened to chose as my perch is also one of the few streets that connects with one of the few places to enter the Seireitei, thus I have already seen one of these freakishly strong guards. It gave me a chance to see why they were chosen for their positions, and I must say I was impressed.
The guard, who was inhumanly tall and muscular, got me to seriously reconsider my plans of getting past the wall he was guarding… for about half a second. After that, the wall winked at me and I got back down to the serious business of plotting.
Now, as I am sure you have already surmised that, because I knew of the guard's existence, he knew of mine, too. He actually discovered me the second night of my sitting-spree. I think I may have actually shocked him, because his eyes glanced over me the first time, then flew back to me and he jumped a little. I probably would have, too, if I hadn't been expecting a normally empty street to suddenly be occupied by some girl sitting smack-dab in the middle of it and staring right at the wall I was supposed to be guarding.
He had waved to me, either as a greeting or as more of a 'shoo'ing motion, but I took no heed. I was too busy focusing on the pretty spot of glistening white on the wall that the moon had struck at that moment.
Ever since that night he saw me, the guard opens his door at morning, noon, and midnight to see if I am still there, which, of course, I always am.
So, the week and a half (I'm pretty sure that's more accurate than my two weeks assumption) have gone by fairly normally and a bit of a routine has built up.
First, early in the morning, the guard opens the gate to see if I am still here.
And I stare.
Then, a person from one of the nearby houses comes out a drops a small plate of food by me (something they started doing four days into my vigilnot sure how I would have survived without them…).
And I stare (eating whenever I know no one's looking).
Then, the crowd arrives to see if that day is finally the day I move.
And I stare.
At noon, the guard opens the gate yet again and peeks out, only to duck back inside when he sees me staring at 'him' (even thought it's not really him I'm staring at, it's the wall).
And I stare.
Dusk comes and the people start to return to their houses, the person from earlier that day coming out to gather the used plate and utensils, dropping off another.
And I stare (and eat).
Darkness falls and the plate is gathered, sometimes accompanied by a whispered 'goodnight' from my kind caretakers.
And I stare.
Midnight, the gate opens and a head peeks out, only to quickly retreat and slam the gate shut.
And I still stare.
Thus the cycle repeats.
Sometimes it gets boring. Sometimes it doesn't. Other times, I'm too busy playing 'Pong' in my head to care. And other, other times I try to figure why I don't seem to have to sleep here… but then I quit. Thinking and staring sometimes prove to be too much for me to do at the same time, especially when whatever I'm thinking about requires me to think both seriously and analytically.
Hmm… maybe I can do something else. Maybe, while I'm staring at the wall, I can give you a quick summary of my life! Yay! That sounds good!
Okay, so I was born into a typical-ish family; including a mom, a dad, and two younger twin siblings. I lived an average life, starting preschool and going all the way up to middle school. Then, on the day that marked the halfway point between my thirteenth and fourteenth birthdays, something happened. I died.
Quick and fairly painless automobile accident; basically some jack-a (once again, sorry for the strong letters) wasn't paying attention and I wrestled with his car. Hmm, let's see, human vs. car. You do the math. So, yeah, I died, then I woke up here.
Yeah. That's about it. That's my life. Exciting, eh?
If you can't tell, my life is a bit of the reason why I am the way I am. It was so boring I decided to spice it up a little, and that's why I do things most 'normal' people wouldn't do. (normal is relative, by the way. I know, I know, I used it earlier, but that was just me being human… which involves being fickle.)
Well, that gives you a bit of background into all of this mess, and I gotta go now. The gate is opening and it's not the usual guard who's peeking his head out… oh! Someone is actually coming out! Yes! Well, later!