The Impossibly Possible
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, all belongs to Tite Kubo.
Warning: Mild language and violence.
Absolutely no.
This is physically defying the laws of logical science. In fact this is so outlandish it must surely be some sort of fanatical dream!
Except that I'm wide awake…in the middle of class.
Boys in today's society do not wear black kosode's and run down the street with large swords screaming at the top of their lungs. It's just not natural. So why then am I witnessing this exact occurrence? Oh no, I'm not sick am I?
Placing the back of my hand onto my forehead I paused, waiting. A familiar wave of heat passed through between the flesh and uttering a sigh I slumped back into my seat relieved. I was free of a fever.
So why was I seeing that boy?
Never had I seen anything so strange. In fact just his outfit was odd enough, the only time I've even seen something similar is at traditional Japanese festivals during the summer. My dad is mysteriously obsessed with fashion and always points the robes out. But still…there was something different about the kind the boy was wearing. And why was he out of school? Was he even in school?
"Miss Ishida?" a voice called out jerking me from my thoughts. Glancing up I locked eyes with Mrs. Hamada (formerly Ochi) who arched a slender eyebrow in wonderment. "Are you feeling alright?"
The class turned and looked at me. Blinking, I nodded realizing with dread that I was supposed to be paying attention to the lesson. I swallowed, feeling my cheeks burn up with a light blush. "Sorry, I suppose I'm a little confused on the lesson?"
I hope whatever she's teaching today is super hard. If it's easy then my lie will only make me look like a bigger idiot than how I feel. She smiled sympathetically and the class sighed in relief. Were they actually glad I had feigned confusion?
"That's okay, for a moment I thought you were day dreaming. But don't worry everyone seems to be having problems today as well. The lesson is a bit tedious."
Picking up a piece of chalk Mrs. Hamada proceeded to scribble a few words onto the board, talking about something that I wasn't quite sure about considering I hadn't been paying attention. It's alright though; my dad can help me later with the homework. But I need to know about that boy.
Normally I compulsively obsess over schoolwork. It's a disease really. Every evening is spent in room 3C conducting meetings for the math club before returning home to complete a mountain of homework. But the scary thing is that I'm content. I don't mind work, if I don't have it I simply cannot sleep at night. My sister likes to constantly inform me of my mental problems as though I'm not already well aware.
An arm shot into the air. Turning Mrs. Hamada inquired, "Yes, Miss Ishida?"
"Actually I'm feeling rather poor, may I go down to the sick room and rest? Or maybe I should go home?" The words fell from lips at such a fast rate that I had no idea I was even saying them. I never left school early unless it was for an academic function. I especially never left class early to go after a boy. But when I'm curious I have to know the answer even if it kills me which, as it looks, might be a possibility today.
I'm not one of those reserved shy girls who never speak a word. Yes, I normally have my head buried in a book and am a little shy, but I am capable of holding a proper conversation. Sometimes I'm terribly blunt but I blame the bookworm part of me for that.
Opening her mouth Mrs. Hamada seemed stunned. That made two of us.
"If you feel that's best, please don't hesitate."
Swiping my books from the top of the desk I nodded, walking awkwardly down the aisle and out of the room. Jogging down the corridor, clutching my textbook and notepad to my chest as though they were a life vest (which in my opinion they were), I glanced out the window and froze. The boy had changed course and I could actually see him. The windows in the hall faced a different direction than the ones in the classroom, and in less than ten seconds he had bolted around to the other side.
I started feeling more like the stalked rather than the stalker.
But as I focused in on his face I noticed that he was talking to the empty air. He had to have escaped from the psychological ward of the hospital but there hadn't been reports on the news. Besides my dad managed the hospital, so as reasonable as the idea seemed it couldn't be true.
Stepping closer to the window I watched as he swung the blade again which seemed to collide with something invisible. A faint roar echoed through my mind.
Did I really just hear that?
I'm not entirely surprised though, it's just weird hearing it right after the boy swung at nothing. Since I was little I had always been able to discern faint noises, hushed whispers carried along the breeze. But I never said anything to my parents out of fear for my sanity which, undoubtedly, I was lacking. The voices were never threatening so I was never afraid.
Until now.
The grip on my supplies loosened and with a crash fell to the floor, the noise echoed throughout the hallway like a gunshot. Slowly bending over I gathered them up, my gaze never leaving the boy. This was absolutely absurd but the suspense was literally eating me alive. I had to know and I had to know now.
Running I leapt down the stairs two at a time, an amazing feat considering how horribly out of shape I am, and sprinted down yet another corridor. My legs propelled my body forward at a brisk pace, the speed similar to a manic dash. Coach Kinjo, the gym instructor, would die of a heat attack due to her surprise if she saw me running like this.
Too bad I wasn't in gym when I noticed the boy.
Bursting out of the two main doors that lead out into the front courtyard of Karakura High, the sun shone heavily up in the sky momentarily blinding me. It didn't matter much, even with my glasses my vision was crap. But I could still see the boy?
It was warm outside, and the uniform knee high socks made my calves itch. Panting I did not slow down, even when I had rounded the corner of the school and had him locked in my stare, I did not let my feet stop hitting the pavement. The sun seemed muted here, as though there was an imperceptible shield blocking the rays. Suddenly I heard it. A low growl reverberated through the concrete surroundings sending a chill down my spine. The hair on the back of my neck stood straight.
But I kept going. My curiosity dominated my fear like it did with every other emotion I possessed. It wasn't until I was closer that I came to an abrupt halt. Horror had finally sunk in.
Now at a close range I could make out the boy's features. His orange hair was plastered to his face with sweat, the matted tresses reached to about his chin. Blood and grime covered his face and his lips were curled in a menacing scowl. Scratches were embedded into the skin of his cheeks, red liquid trickled from the wounds. He wore wooden sandals with white socks, an odd choice with the heat. Who in the world was he?
Peering out of the corner of his eyes he spotted me, giving a grunt of annoyance. Obviously he had seen me coming and wasn't pleased. "Get away!" he hissed through clenched teeth, dodging an invisible blow.
For once I was more than willing to comply despite my desire to know his identity, but I couldn't move. A strong pressure lingered within the air pressing down heavily upon my body immobilizing my limbs. Even breathing had become a difficult task and my chest struggled to rise. A raspy gurgle left my mouth as the air within my lungs was quickly spent up replaced by an agonizing burn.
I was suffocating on absolutely nothing.
My knees buckled beneath the pressure and I fell to the ground in a heap, eyes wide as saucers. The boy grew angry and slashed at his surroundings, muttering a brutal cry of rage. Blood spurted from his left shoulder blade and he winced in pain.
The world was spinning and I could only gape at him like a fish on a hook. A thud echoed in my mind and beneath my crumpled form I felt a vibration shake the earth. The previous warmth vanished and was replaced by cold. Why wouldn't everything stop spinning?
I guess the saying was correct, curiosity killed the cat.
Except I'm not a cat, I'm Kyoko Ishida.
A/N: Yay a Bleach next gen fanfic! :D For some reason I love next generation stories so I couldn't help but do one myself for Bleach. I'm not used to writing in first person so hopefully it sounded alright.