Hello all!
Welcome to my new story, of:SAND. It's been a while since I've written a multi-chapter story, so I'm hoping to get back into the groove of things.
I would probably characterize this story under the genres of Drama/Supernatural/Action/Romance.
Many, many thanks to my beta-reader, Amputation, for all her help and critique.
I hope you guys enjoy the story!
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, or any affiliated characters.
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Chapter 1: Number 26
A large leap forward and he narrowly slipped past. The car screeched to a halt.
"You trying to die?" The middle-aged driver growled, sticking his head out the window, "Fucking brat!" A flip of the middle finger and then the car was gone, speeding away through the intersection.
"It's Ichigo!" A girl gasped, pointing at him.
Three high school girls, still uniform-clad in the early evening, swung their heads around to look at the dark-haired youth that had just daringly burst into traffic and escaped unscathed. He held his hand up in greeting as he raced by, their shrieks of joy resonating in his ears and in the alley long after he had passed them. He took a sharp right into a thinner passageway, shuffling sideways to reach a chipped metal door. Grasping a hold of the grimy copper doorknob, he pushed and fell into the coolness of the room within.
Inside, crew members hustled about with long, coiled cables. Instructions flowed through their headphones, and busy footsteps skittered along the hardwood floor. The dark-haired youth looked about until he unfortunately caught the eyes of a woman. Her frame snapped straight with vexation, and each livid echo of her heels against the floor sent red flags up in Ichigo's mind. He attempted to run away in the opposite direction—a failed attempt as she swiftly hooked her fingers into his jacket's collar.
"Not so fast," The woman whispered. The shadows of rage and haughtiness that hung on the tails of her words made Ichigo grind his teeth in agitation.
"Damn! Let go!" He demanded. With an abrupt and violent jerk, the woman whirled him around to face her. Raven hair, normally held up by a purple scrunchy, was let down today, framing grey eyes that glared daggers into him before she roughly shoved and sent Ichigo crashing to the floor.
"Get to makeup, this instant!" She roared, watching as he wiped away the dumbfounded look upon his face. With a grunt of annoyance, he picked himself up and felt her attention pinned to his back as he retreated towards the dressing room. Grumbling, he wove about crew employees until he threw open the dressing room door and slammed it behind him.
"Late again, Ichigo?" Mizuiro asked, looking up with a small smile from a swivel chair. The young woman who had been applying a straightening iron to Mizuiro's dark hair stopped, frozen, star-stricken, and stared at Ichigo. Behind her sat two other youths, a boy and a girl, both obediently patient as frantic women applied finishing touches in a clamor of powder brushes and blow dryers.
"Yeah," Ichigo grumbled as an older woman whisked him into a chair and began to mutter to herself about all the imperfections she would have to remedy.
"Did Manager Unagiya get you?" Mizuiro continued, returning his eyes to a small novel in his hands. He flipped a page: the crisp sound of a new book.
"She found me backstage," Ichigo murmured as the older woman began to tug a brush through his thick hair. Dyed pitch black, it had grown long and wispy, the shorter pieces brushing his cheeks and the longer pieces reaching his shoulders. A clatter of plastic and a makeup-woman deposited vials of powders and tubes of creams onto his vanity. She cracked one open and began to dab its contents upon Ichigo's skin.
"The doors should be opening about now," Mizuiro said with another flip of a page. "I wonder how many people will come today." Ichigo gave no answer as he did as instructed, straightening his head. In a room buzzing with chatter, electrified with a sense of the crew's urgency, the women hurriedly tended to his hair and powdered his face. Ichigo dully examined a promotional poster as the distant sounds of an audience rumbled into the building.
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Splitting the air, the tremor of bass ran an unseen vibration against Ichigo's forearm. Sweat gleamed upon his neck and temples as he brought his pick down in rough motions, feeling the reverberations of the strings rattle his body. Their echoed notes were emitted and magnified through booming speakers, and the amplification of sound washed against his skin, brushing it warm and sweaty, sensitive and nippy. It was horrendously warm under the heat pulsing from the stage lights, and Ichigo felt beads of sweat trailing along his cheek.
Screams, barely audible, reached his ears through the buzz of notes from his and his band mate's guitars. The rumble of Mizuiro's accompanying drums sent tremors shooting up his legs, shaking them. Music coursed through his body: a feeling of exhilaration taunting him to keep up. And humming an angelic melody, the female singer led the audience back into the chorus, swinging them towards the conclusion. As the guitars and drums faded, and the lead singer's ending note rang into echoing silence, a rumble of claps and squeals lifted the musty atmosphere of the band's song, eventually erupting into roars and applause.
"Now…we will have a short intermission," Manager Unagiya announced curtly through a microphone, and with a loud buzz, all sounds from the stage instantly cut off. Ichigo wiped the back of his hand against his forehead as a murmur swept the audience. Several female voices screamed his name and he raised his hand in greeting before brushing dark tresses from his face. They matted against his neck, triggering another round of squeals. A nervous stagehand brought him a towel and a bottle of water, both items quivering in her grip. Ichigo took a gulp from the water bottle as the stagehand wiped his brow. He waved her away and took another deep swig before shoving the bottle back into her care.
As Manager Unagiya had anticipated, the house was fuller than usual today, with the tables of the small pub filled mostly with elated young women. In their laps lay signs and promotional posters of the band; veins of white creasing the edges where they had clutched and waved them in their excited, sweaty palms. At a corner table was a gaggle of male fans that sat ogling at the lead female singer, bumping each other with teasing and egging elbows.
Ichigo's eyes hovered through the crowd, ignoring as women turned their rosy cheeks away. The majority of the fans looked the same: havingpulled on their flashiest clothes from their closets, they tried to attract his gaze. They laid their necks, hands, and hair heavy with jewelry and bows, draping their mediocre bodies with clothes that were expensive in taste but unflattering to their figures. Their makeup looked unnatural and overwhelming, often accented with extraordinarily fake eyelashes and excessive eye shadow: young girls trying to be grown-ups.
To the right, a crowd of older girls giggled in a booth, their manner of dress quite unique in this crowd: relatively conservative and modestly feminine. He recognized a bubbly laugh, a voice he was all too familiar with. He found its owner at the table: vibrant orange hair pulled up into a loose bun, strands falling about her cheeks, framing her sparkling grey eyes. The girl noticed him looking and smiled sweetly as his lips remained pulled into his characteristic scowl.
His eyes moved from their table to the next one, which stood unusually empty save for a single woman. Whether the woman was of particular beauty, Ichigo had no idea; his gaze had instantly trailed to her legs: milky white beneath the wooden table. Leading from a short leather miniskirt, the length of her limbs guided his eyes along thin, yet subtly toned, thighs and calves, ending in tiny feet encased in black boots. He met her eyes for a moment, contemplating their dark color until his attention was swept to her cool, cryptic look, and a small smirk that formed at corner of her lips.
"It's time now," Manager Unagiya said. Ichigo snapped his head up to look at her and grunted an acknowledgement. He steadied his guitar and adjusted the strap over his shoulder, and when his eyes finally returned to the table to look for the woman in leather, he saw that she had already disappeared.
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With his elbows leaned upon his knees, Ichigo rubbed his temples amidst the chatter. The room was filled with laugher and murmuring as the last crewmembers jabbered, beers in hand. The female lead sat in a chair, drunkenly dozing off as she waited for her ride home. The other male guitarist had left for a smoke, and Mizuiro sat besides Ichigo on the couch, drinking juice and snacking upon complimentary cookies. Manager Unagiya walked in wearily, having already taken off her heels and wrapped a jacket about her shoulders.
"Alright," She began, "Good job everyone. Please get home safely and rest well tonight." She bowed, the gesture mirrored from several crew members as they thanked her for her hard work.
"Are you leaving now, Manager?" Mizuiro asked. The dark-haired woman slowly nodded.
"The crowds have been cleared out by security," She said, "So It should be okay to leave without a hassle now." She yawned and stretched upwards, inclining her chin towards Ichigo as she did so. "Ichigo, you have a guest waiting. She's been waiting." She said between another yawn.
Ichigo didn't answer, instead pausing as a lump grew in his throat and a look of surprise passed over his face. He asked quietly, "Did you tell her to leave?" His manager crossed her arms, her gaze upon Ichigo marred with worry.
"How could I tell her to?" She said. "You should see her…."
Ichigo declined to reply, and as the next hour stretched on, with the departure of his band mates and the crew, he was the left as the last person in the dressing room. 'She's waiting by the back door,' his manager had told him. He thought that perhaps if he waited long enough, the girl may leave.
And time ticked on, a thrumming of clicks as each second passed. And when the clock read 2:00AM, he was sure she must have gone home by then. After donning a winter coat and swinging his bag over his shoulder, Ichigo twisted the knob of his dressing room door and entered the wide hallway. He traveled through the black silence of the building, reaching the metal back door which creaked loudly as he pulled it open. The chill of the winter night smoothed over his face, and his foot sunk slightly into the damp earth beneath. The dimness of the alley was heavily accented with shadows created from the presence of street lamps flanking each side. He turned to his left and saw her: a crumple of scarves and orange hair, the young woman sat curled against the exterior of the building.
"Orihime…" Ichigo breathed. The girl's head snapped up, her face becoming vibrant when she saw him. Sluggish and cramped, she stood up inelegantly and stretched, a yawn escaping her mouth before she blinked her eyes in dreariness. Her grey irises sparkled in the half-light, giving her in an ethereal look that would have reduced most boys' legs to jelly. "Why are you still here?" Ichigo asked.
With a giggle, Orihime said, "I was waiting for you." A sweet smile lingered upon her full, pale, blue-ing lips, and Ichigo recounted a time when he had brushed his calloused fingers against them. His brows knitted in concern.
"Let's get you home," He said as he began to walk down the narrow alley. With a laugh, Orihime looped her arm with Ichigo's, resting her head against his shoulder. His body stiffened, but he allowed her to cling on. A cold mist wafted in the air, daring Ichigo's teeth to chatter. Instead, he clenched his jaw and tucked his chin and nose into his jacket's high collar. Slowly, he felt her face nuzzle into his arm, and he was certain that an excited little grin he was very acquainted with touched her lips then, and he leaned slightly away.
As they emerged onto the main street, he steered them towards her house. A creaking and a sudden motion drew his eyes towards a lamppost. He whipped his head around in alarm, but only discovered insects as they buzzed in circles within the illumination. Shaking his head and blinking his eyes, he willed away fatigue and continued on.
"Something wrong, Ichigo?" Orihime asked. The man shook his head, reaching out his cold-nipped fingers to pulling a dawdling Orihime ahead. Another movement and Ichigo once again swiveled about to look at the lamppost; he was again met with nothing out of the ordinary. Uneasiness began to seep into his body, and he roughly took Orihime's hand and began to quicken his pace down the street.
"Let's hurry up," He told her sternly.
"Wait, Ichigo…why are you in such a rush!" Excitement subtly hinted her tone as her gaze hovered over their cupped hands, and the tips of her mouth pulled up the slightest fraction. The male tugged her again and she stumbled, neck scarf unfurling.
"We need to hurry." He replied. His peripheral vision caught another He movement, this time at the top of a building, and he was certain he had seen something. Ichigo broke into a jog, the confused girl behind him squeaking. She was unsuccessful in keeping pace thanks to the long scarf that swung from her neck and impeded her movements, and with a trip, she fell to her knees. "God damn it, Orihime!" Ichigo said as he skidded to a halt. He swiveled around, preparing to kneel and reach to her when he saw it: a black figure standing some distance behind Orihime, an impossible glow in its hands.
"Orihime…" Ichigo whispered, his voice shaking. He yanked her violently from the ground and she answered with a whimper. And not moments later did the glow in the shadowy figure's hands stretch and contort into tendrils of light. They wove into a lance, and with inhuman speed, it was sent rushing towards them.
"Move!" Ichigo shouted, roughly pulling Orihime forward. They sprinted towards the darkness of the intertwining alleyways. The glowing lance struck the ground with an explosion that made the buildings moan and the mist of the air accelerate and sting their faces. Dirt flew into the sky and fell harshly against the ground in thuds and falling spray, and Ichigo heard Orihime's scream in his ears. Looking back, Ichigo saw the shadowy figure alight on the ground, another lance forming in its hands, and again it was sent cutting through the air towards them. With a sudden left turn, Orihime yelped as the bolt of energy hit a wire fence where seconds ago, Ichigo's head had been.
He wanted to hide her; turning his head left and right, Ichigo urgently looked for an escape route for the girl, and ahead, he saw a passageway intersecting the main alley. Grabbing a hold of a twisted piece of metal that lay in a pile of trash, he flung it towards the shadowy creature. The metal exploded in a burst of green light, its fragments shooting outwards and Ichigo felt sharp, metallic bites dig into his bicep and lower back, twisting a strangled scream from the depths of his belly.
"Ichigo!" A female voice screamed, though not Orihime's. He looked at the redhead beside him: her face open, wide-eyed in alarm, blood flecked her cheeks but she looked unscathed. He harshly flung her from him into the adjoining passageway.
"Run!" He called to her, "It's after me! Run!" Orihime stared back in a moment of doe-eyed shock before registering his actions and shouting after him.
"But…!" She began. Another loud boom as a blast of energy flew past his right side, and Ichigo couldn't hear the rest of what Orihime said. He threw his bag from him, hurling it towards the shadowy figure that had glided up from behind. His bag disappeared into darkness, and the figure lithely alighted upon the edge of the building above him. With a gasp of shock, Ichigo saw the path of a glowing spear headed straight towards him from above.
"Ichigo!" Orihime screamed from somewhere behind him. Ichigo felt a coldness rush around him as he squeezed his eyes closed. Ice pieces frosted his lips and hair, and the lance's blow was deflected and rammed into the brick wall of a building, its pieces falling in red and grey heaps. Dust whirled into the air, and Ichigo, coughing, sprinted into the haze, hoping it would shield him from the shadow's vision. A sharp whizzing and Ichigo felt the heat of a lance nick his ear. A hand looped around his wrist and yanked him roughly to the left. He struggled against its pull until he nearly stumbled over a pile of bricks, and the hand only tugged harder, more urgently.
He ran coughing in the haze, twisting and turning, yanked violently as he was led through the dusty brume of debris and half-light. His tongue tasted of iron and his throat felt dry from the smut of the air. His vision was murky, and he covered his mouth with his red-soaked sleeve, the smell of his blood nauseating and dizzying. A whirr of a glowing rod by his right ear, and the hand reeled him forward and down. It spun him around and Ichigo's back slammed into a wall, the air intensifying with his loud cry of pain.
"Silence," A female voice hushed, its tone as smooth as satin and commanding as a lion's growl. A small hand covered his mouth, the grim of dirt and dust fresh and powdery upon its calloused flesh. Ichigo attempted to twist free of it but it only pressed down harder. "Shh…" the voice coaxed. Ichigo stilled, noting only the whispers of shifting sand and crushed cement around him, juxtaposing the intense pounding of his heart in his ears.
"Way of Binding," The female said, "Number 26: Kyokkō." A loud ringing blared around him, followed by complete silence, the flow of sand and debris no longer audible. Ichigo wretched his face from her palm, coughing, and heard his heaves echo around him. The dust was gently settling, and a small figure emerged from the fog. The space where they crouched was stifling; it was just tall enough for Ichigo to stand: a slim entranceway that had long been bolted up, its wooden door, rotting. A shimmering blue light created a screen that separated the doorway from the rest of the alley. The air was musty and smelled of wet, moldy wood, sand, and blood. A scarlet drop found its way down his arm and spattered on the floor.
The girl stood listening intently, a frown creased onto her lips. Her eyes were large and violet, almond-shaped and flanked with dark lashes that hovered low over her irises in concentration. Her dark, short hair brushed her cheeks, and she agilely flung a long piece from her eyes in agitation. A white sword pierced the ground between them, their legs extending along either side of the blade.
And as Ichigo noted her appearance, a sense of disbelief and recognition overtook his emotions. Her legs were creamy white, petite and yet nicely toned, leading up from her, now dusty, short, suede boots. His eyes followed the lines of her leg muscle to her small, bony knees, then up the smoothness of her exposed thighs to the spot where her leather miniskirt clung to her skin and created a dark shadow on her inner thigh. A deep frown formed on her lips as she caught his gaze.
"Are you in pain?" She asked in a velvety deep voice, a tone unexpectedly rich for a woman of such small stature. Ichigo tore his eyes from hers, and gripped his arm, the fabric already crimson and clinging to his skin. He felt the weave of his shirt already plastered in wetness to the wound on his back, and he bit back the magnifying pain by grinding his teeth against one another.
"I'm alright." He lied. A scoff of disbelief echoed from the woman before Ichigo felt the sharpness of her stare upon his face.
"We need to go back outside," He said, straightening as much as he could, "Orihime is still out there. That…" Ichigo paused, unsure as how he would describe what he saw, "Monsteris still out there." He turned towards the shining blue screen, but the woman raised a forearm wrapped in a white tekkou and blocked him from the only exit.
Firmly her fingers planted upon his shoulder and pushed him back. He staggered, falling against the brick wall behind him with a sting of pain. Gently, her chilled fingers traced the line of his jaw and his tawny eyes flew to hers. He mentally felt himself shrinking under the force of the woman's mauve eyes. The dull blue light from the screen flickered, casting shadows upon her face as she brought it closer to his.
"W-what are you doing?" He stammered. And with the swiftness of a blink, her hand roughly yanked upon his neck, bringing him down to her. Her warm breath spilled against his ear.
"Ichigo Kurosaki…" She whispered, her dry lips brushing against his skin, "Have you forgotten who you are?"
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I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I'm already working on Chapter 2, so hopefully that'll be out soon!
All comments, questions, concerns and critiques are welcome. :)
Happy Holidays to all! May you all eat yummy food and be merry. :)
N.