"Tell me Amamiya-kun, where does your loyalty lie?"
The girl in front of the man stared speechlessly. No words left her lips as she stood pensively, searching for an answer.
"I… uh.. I..." She stumbled over her words. She was speechless, the words dried up in her throat. She couldn't form a coherent sentence.
"To trust or to be trusted, a twisted question that causes a poor soul to misjudge and misplace something so valuable. Said wretched soul becomes a scoundrel and spreads their misery and loses inhibition. Do not allow them to push their altruistic values upon you when they will not reciprocate. Do what your heart yearns for."
"… They're my family," was the most she could muster, each word quietened and laced with uncertainty.
"Come with me, don't allow yourself to be morally cannibalized to such a mundane and undesirable notion," said the man.
Shiori looked up at the man and took in his appearance: wavy, brown hair, brown eyes behind squared glasses, and pale skin. He donned a shihakushō with a sword.
"A shinigami?" She thought.
"Come with me," The man repeated. Her heart yearns to follow him, to throw caution to the wind, and to put herself first for once.
Shiori's eyes flew open and sat up on her bed. She clutched her chest, gasping and sweating. She looked around in search of the man, only to notice that her room was dark and empty.
"Who was that man? How did he know my name? And what the hell was that?"
A/N: yo, I had this idea for a while. This is sort of a prologue to the story. Feedback is welcomed.
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to its rightful owner. Original story and characters belong to me.