Don't Let Go

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Bleach; I am just a fan.

Warnings: slash/yaoi, child abuse, violence, AU, and OOC-ness.

Pairing(s): The pairing that garnered the most votes was Toshiro/Harry. Sorry to those who voted otherwise. Also, later on in the story there will be a small dash of Aizen/Harry (don't ask why, I won't tell you :P), but that's like eons away.

Hello peoples~ welcome to the new verison of 'Lost in Translation'. I would like to give my appreciation to those of you who followed the other story and continued to encourage me throughout. Enjoy~!




"P-please stop."



The frail body slumped against the beefy fist holding him. Blood gushed from the gash on the back of his head, the sticky fluid quickly staining the back of his over-sized t-shirt. He felt cold as he was thrown carelessly into his cupboard, his body creating a sickening crunch as it impacted with the wall. Beady blue eyes glared down at his crumbled figure before the door was slammed shut and the tell-tale clicks of the locks on the door clicking into place sounded in the small space. A whimper escaped past his lips, the tears he had been holding back finally breaking free and flowing down his cheeks. He felt too weak to move, too weak to do anything except lay there and even that seemed to be a hassle.

He panted, clenching his eyes shut in an attempt to push the pain from his mind. Why him? What had he done to deserve this? Sniffling, he allowed his mind to wander away from the solitude of his cupboard and to somewhere brighter. He wished beyond any sort of hope to be whisked away from this horrid place where he was hated. He had realized early on that no such thing would ever happen, especially not for a freak like him, but it was still nice to think it could.

His mind conjured up vague images of a kind red-haired woman who smiled at him and a tall messy black haired man who laughed a lot. These thoughts brought a bit of warmth to his slowly cooling body and allowed him to feel as if he were loved. A small smile curled at his lips as he thought about the two and how they'd hold him and love only him. With this in mind, he let himself fall into his blissful dreams where no pain existed, nor did the loneliness or the aching emptiness.

It wouldn't be until three days later that Petunia Dursley of #4 Privet Drive discovered the body of her nephew in the cupboard under the stairs and years before the the wizarding world was told of the fate of their savior.


Harry heard a loud commotion as he fell into a deep sleep. People were speaking rapidly in a strange language he'd never heard before, he could hear the shuffling of feet as some hurriedly left, and someone was turning him over. He whimpered as the person prodded a particularly harsh bruise on his side with their finger. He could tell it was a woman now because she started speaking to someone else, before gently picking him up. He sank comfortably into her arms, feeling safer than he ever had before. Instinctively the five year old curled into her embrace and let the welcoming darkness consume him.

Harry awoke with a start, wincing after having sat up too fast and irritating his bruises. He had had another nightmare; he was never sure what exactly happened in them but he knew it was bad. He realized belatedly that he was no longer in his cupboard. Fear crept over him. He couldn't remember anything about the day before. The last thing he had remembered was his uncle throwing him into his cupboard. Hurt and on the brink of passing out, he had wished with all his might that he'd be whisked away somewhere; anywhere but Privet Drive.

Then he remembered the voices and the seemingly kind woman who had picked him up into her arms. This relaxed him somewhat, but it still didn't explain where he was and whether he would have to go back to the Dursleys, there was also no telling whether she would be any better than his relatives either. He certainly hoped not, but he wouldn't blame the nice woman if she didn't want him either; he was just some freak that couldn't do anything right and couldn't even get his own family to love him, why would he expect any different here?

Just then, the door opened and a boy who appeared to be a couple of years older came into the room. The boy's eyes widened when he saw that Harry was awake. "G-good morning," he greeted uncertainly, scratching the back of his head as if embarrassed.

Confusion spread across Harry's features and he stared at the boy blankly. "E-excuse me?" He asked.

The boy's face paled considerably. "Ah... s-sorry." Bowing hurriedly, he turned to leave and rushed off. A few minutes later, he returned with a woman whom just smiled politely as the boy spoke frantically to her. Calmly, she quieted the boy down and stepped over to Harry.

"Hola," she tried, getting no response except a blank stare she tried again. "Bonjour? Hello?" Harry smiled at this and she smiled back. "Hello, I am Retsu Unohana." She greeted.

"Harry Potter," he replied quietly.

"Your wounds have been tended to and you should have a full recovery as long as you don't overexert yourself." She explained. "Now, do you remember how you managed to get here?"

Harry shook his head, looking down at his hands. "I just remember thinking of a warm place."

Harry flinched when she put her hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw her smiling down at him. "Well, you're safe here child. Hanataro-san," she gestured to the boy standing behind her who immediately tensed, "is here to change your bandages. Please allow him to do so." Harry nodded and she walked back over to Hanataro-san and began speaking to him in the other language again. Soon, she was gone and Hanataro-san was coming up to him and began addressing his wounds.

"S-sorry," Hanataro-san stuttered when Harry whimpered. Hanataro nervously redressed the wounds, careful to not irritate them too much to cause pain and wincing in sympathy when he did. Finally it was over and he smiled at Harry.

It had been a week since he arrived in this strange place and Harry was slowly adjusting to it. Hanataro visited him everyday to clean and dress his wounds, and to bring him his meals. Harry liked the older boy of who sometimes forgot Harry couldn't understand him and spoke rapidly. It was okay though, Harry didn't mind, it was much better than being alone. Sometimes, Unohana would come to visit him and tell him about the place he had somehow managed to make himself appear in.

He was in the Soul Society; she explained it was kind of like heaven where the dearly departed came to after they died. After that he had asked if it were possible to see his parents, she then went on to say that family members were most often split apart in the Soul Society and unable to find each other. When she had seen his heartbroken expression, she had hastily added that perhaps since his parents had died at roughly the same then they might be together and that it could be possible to find them. From then on he decided he would get better and go in search of his parents.

Currently, he was residing in the 4th Division, which Unohana had explained she was the captain of and that Hanataro was also part of the 4th Division. There were 13 divisions each with their own captain and lieutenant. Unohana's lieutenant, he learned, was Isane Kotetsu. She was a nice lady and Harry could tell that she was very loyal to Unohana. She, like Hanataro, couldn't speak English and often times just smiled at him. It was quite annoying not being able to speak to anybody other than Unohana, but he guessed it was better than nothing.

Unohana also explained that she was a Shinigami, or a Death God. It was their job to destroy Hollows—spirits whose chain of destiny had been shattered and turned into monsters who ate the souls of other people—and to purify souls so that they could enter the Soul Society. He learned that one could become a Shinigami by going to the Shinigami Academy. She said that it usually took a few years, unless you were like the 10th Division's captain, Toshiro Hitsugaya, who had excelled at a greater speed.

Hanataro had taken to trying to teach him Japanese. It wasn't very easy seeing as Hanataro couldn't speak English and wasn't able to explain much to him, but the thought of being able to talk to Hanataro without Unohana's help fueled him onwards. He was taught very simple things like the furniture that was in the room or the food in his meals; it was a slow process, but he was starting to get the hang of it. Unohana had also come to help him when she had the time. She had brought a chart one day that had hiragana and katakana written on it and bellow the characters were the romaji for how to pronounce them.

All in all, Harry enjoyed being there. Of course, there were those instances when he thought he would have to go back to the Dursleys. What if when he got better they would just send him back to his relatives? What if they started to hate him? Back at the Dursleys he had been the "freak". Strange things had happened around him for no reason and no one wanted to be his friend. Now here everyone else was different from him as well; they were all Shinigami and he was just a nobody. They all had wonderful powers and he was a burden on Unohana for staying there. He shouldn't have to force them to take care of him, to baby him, and make him feel as if he were apart of their world.

Harry pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. He didn't believe Unohana was the kind of person who would send him back, but if she was, well, he'd just have to deal with it. For now, he was content with just lying in the bed given to him and believing he was finally safe.

As you can see, I haven't changed much except for a few tweaks here and there, and of course the beginning, that's totally new. Just to clarify things, Harry's not really dead, but not totally alive either; that'll be explained in the next chapter. Anyways, if you enjoyed this chapter, please review!