A/N: A Bleach story that has been rattling around for a while during the times that I am coming up with new content for 'Like the Blade of a Knife' and slowly making edits to 'From the Sea of Souls'... I think I have too many story ideas.

Ah, well...

Anywho, come check out my Tumblr! Where I post some extra character info, fanart, and other neat things! And if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. No spoilers though. ;)

TUMBLR: fanfiction-by-abalisk

A Fading No One

By: Azhdah

Chapter 1: Donning the Pine Overcoat

In the event of your inevitable and rather unavoidable demise, what is the first thing you expect to see?

Do you see yourself bathed in a holy light, a chorus of angels singing and trumpeting as you ascend into the heavens? Do you sprout wings of alabaster and rejoice with your ancestors in the Almighty Presence? Or do you imagine falling into a burning pit? Torched and tormented for all eternity while the twisted faces of demons and devils cackle with glee. Perhaps your imagined afterlife is being reincarnated as something noble and fierce, like an eagle or the one of the Queen of England's corgis.

Or maybe you are dull and unimaginative like me and don't have any afterlife aspirations—your preferred end is just being cold and dead in the dirt.

Not to say that I find religious nightmare fuel to be boring by any means, but any of those scenarios is just too unrealistic and creepy-as-hell to want for myself. For one, I highly doubt I would even remotely like any of my ancestors, demon torture seems way too intense for someone as boring as myself, and reincarnation? No. Just no. I already died once thank you—I don't need a repeat like a goddamn broken record! Just give me my one way dirt nap either by pine box or caked on the walls of an incinerator.

Just please, no supernatural shit.

…

As you can imagine, I didn't get my wish.

xXx

Darkness. Sweet blessed darkness receded as a groggy mind regained its cognitive capabilities. Sleep fuzzed eyes stared blearily at a bright and too damn cheery eggshell blue of a nearly cloudless sky; the puffy tail of a jet's vapor trail bisecting the otherwise unmarred dome. A moment of dazed confusion passed through the young woman's mind, not certain as to why she was here gawking at a sky that clearly defied the cloudy and rainy forecast predicted for the next week by news anchors. How the hell did I get here? she wondered, as cloud gazing wasn't a habit she normally took part in, being a part-time gym trainer and nearly full-time shut in. Nature and her were not by any means good bedfellows, there was a reason she lived in the city.

Groaning when the light became too much, she slapped the palms of her hands over her burning eye sockets. "Go away Sol." Came the grumpy remark, the woman sitting up with some effort to point her face down and away from the glaring sun.

Her body felt strangely stiff, like she'd overworked herself doing manual labor or pushed too hard at the gym. Hell, even the air itself clung to her heavily, weighing her down and sticking to her clothes. But it wasn't a cloying heat or humidity like when a thunderstorm was brewing in the middle of July; it was more hard to describe. A sense of definitiveness. Permanence. Foreboding.

Putting aside these strange thoughts, the young woman continued rubbing away the sleep from her eyes, a frown wrinkling her brow when something seemed off. Removing her fists from her eye sockets, her eyelids widened as they stared at her fingers. When did my fingers get so pudgy-

That train of thought was cut off abruptly when her vision readjusted to focus on the blurry colorful blocks, broccoli, and little ants running between them in perfectly synchronized rows underneath her; only... it wasn't. "Uh," she wheezed intelligently, her pupils constricting into pinpricks as the wind suddenly rushed around her ears. Empty air greeted her cheerfully, the tiny mishmash of blocks, vegetables, and ants now fully registering to her sleep stupid brain as buildings, trees, and cars respectively. A piercing shriek filled the sky as she fell at terminal velocity, the structures and streets becoming more defined as the humble Earth sped to meet her.

"Oh my GOOOOD!" she wailed, arms pinwheeling around her wildly in a futile effort to slow her decent, This isn't happening! This can't be happening! The impromptu skydiver implored, her terrified gaze laser focused on the rapidly encroaching pavement, Impossible! IMPOSSIBLE! It's just a dream! Just a dream! Please be a dream! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Her pleading mantra repeated fruitlessly as the asphalt made its swift approach.

With one last desperate effort to survive, the young woman threw up her arms to shield her face and shut her eyes in preparation for impact.

...

The sound of a car crunching across pavement sounded nearby.

A wide terrified eye popped open to dart around, taking in the calm atmosphere as pedestrians walked heedlessly along the sidewalk, seemingly unaffected by what could have been a very messy incident. Cars revved on by, brakes squeaking as the drivers reached a stop sign before moving on again. A herd of brats stampeded by giggling amongst themselves as they weaved among the more sedate paced adults. It was with these observations that led the young woman to believe with a modicum of confusion and a truckload of joy that she had indeed not become road pizza.

Opening her other eye and looking down, she saw to her horror that she was still floating, albeit a few centimeters off the ground. Then, as if gravity suddenly remembered that it had jurisdiction over her, she fell the last couple of inches with a barely jarring thud; smashing her face elegantly into the blacktop.

Sprawled out, the woman lay there in mute shock, watching in detached amazement as a real line of ants scuttled unmolested in front of her face. Her mind whirled, unable to fully grasp what had just transpired. Numbly, she noticed a bicyclist leisurely making for a collision course for her prone body, Surely, he'll notice me laying here. she thought confidently, not having the will to get up and move out of the way. A small part of her in the back of her mind wondered why the fuck the noobs on the sidewalk weren't taking any notice of the person planking in the middle of the bike lane.

The bicyclist continued on unheeded however, and noticing it was too late to get out of the way the woman could only watch as the tires rolled... right... through...

Gaping, she scrambled up and away from the street, falling over the dangling fabric around her feet as she rushed to the sidewalk, "HOLY SHIT!" she screamed high and loud, her breaths coming in hurried uneven gasps; her brain totally boggled by what she had just witnessed. Quickly, the woman patted her abdomen where she saw the bike wheel pass through her body, taking note with increasing alarm that she was much shorter than many of the passersby. In fact, she would almost say that she was the same size as–

A five year old giggled as they held their mother's hand, eagerly goading the adult along in excitement for the park. The happy pair passed unknowingly through the shell-shocked being that they clearly could not see; the brat easily encompassing the ghost in her entirety, their sizes matching perfectly.

The grown woman turned child specter woodenly turned to watch their retreating backs, abject terror marring her rounded face. Suddenly feeling very cold, the woman or – more appropriately – girl shook her head and sprinted after the mother and child. Numerous times she tripped over the long tresses of fabric hanging from her bandaged legs and feet, eliciting frustrated sounds from the girl when it hindered her movements. Her white robe, which was much too big for her now shrunken frame, billowed around as she ran; the wide sleeves snapping like a flag in a breeze.

"Hey!" she called ahead, fumbling to bundle up the red scarf trailing from her hip, the only piece of colored cloth on her person. "Hey, lady can you hear me?" Again she shouted, giving a mental cringe at how high-pitched her child voice sounded. Still, there was no reaction from the pair and the invisible girl was feeling entitled to her denial. "Damn it woman, listen to me!" Came the inevitable bark as her temper go the best of her. She rushed forward in an attempt to grab the oblivious woman's long black hair and make her pay the fuck attention, when instead her feet tangled around the scarf.

Once more, her face was introduced to the pavement.

xXx

After her hugely embarrassing freak out, which she was in part glad no one could see, the newly discovered spirit decided that being dead wasn't really all it was cracked up to be.

Sure she didn't feel hunger or thirst or even need to use the toilet, but she'd trade all of these perks in a heartbeat if it meant that people could see her. She'd spent hours flailing around in front of anyone she could find; Children. The elderly. Alleyway punks. Cats. A crazed hobo having a deep philosophical conversation with a waste disposal unit about how sour cream was a conspiracy brought on by alien space bats.

Even the other dearly departed couldn't see her mad gesticulations, which brought on a brand new wave of melancholy and made her wonder just what sort of situation she'd fallen into. From what she could see all the other ghosts she encountered had a chain hanging from their chest. After giving thorough inspection to her own sternum, she was forced to conclude that she indeed did not. What that meant? She couldn't even begin to imagine, but it did bring to mind of a certain hack and slash action manga with grossly overpowered characters and convoluted as hell plot. A story that had many people wondering if the writer was just flying by the seat of his pants and hadn't a clue on how to end his crazy ride. Despite this, she had still found some semblance of enjoyment from reading the most recent chapters.

Not to say that our sullen heroine would physically want anything to do with Tite Kubo's twisted afterlife party, but the very idea that the artist was on the nose for how spirits resided on the mortal plane was utterly terrifying in its own right. She just hoped that he was only right about the recently departed, the specter didn't even want to imagine if he was right about other things.

Hollows were on a whole other realm of NOPE that she definitely did not want deal with.

Which brought to the front of her very tumultuous mind, the most important questions of all: Why am I dead? How did it happen? And who's going to feed my cat?

Now that last one may not seem as terribly important as the first two questions. In fact it's not even relevant to the current situation. But when you view your pets as replacements for children and are estranged from any family you have ever known, it does become a concern. Especially when you imagine that the place of your demise may have been in the very same building that your now alone pet is residing; probably chewing on a fresh corpse. An animal, after all does not distinguish when survival is involved.

In any case, the mystery as to how or why she was dead proved to be a tricky one. For starters, the girl didn't even remember what she was doing before kicking the bucket. She had been perfectly healthy the last time she checked in with her doctor, which had not been too long ago. And as far as she knew, she didn't have any enemies that would want her dead and buried, which in itself would be a trial considering how she limited her conversations only to coworkers and clients. So unless she somehow pissed off some secret-society-Illuminati-bullshit-fanclub for simply breathing their air, she had to conclude that she probably died in her sleep due to some unexpected event, like a blood clot or aneurysm.

She always expected that she would kick the bucket in some lame way, but for it to actually occur was a bit disheartening. At least allow her to have died in an explosion or something equally as quick and dramatic.

One thing she was certain of however, was that she was nowhere near her hometown. Hell, from the looks of the signs it appeared she wasn't even in the same country. The characters of the local language appeared to be Japanese or something similar. But if that is the case, she mused, tapping her lip thoughtfully with her forefinger, grey eyes rolling around to pin an annoyed scowl at a cooing pair of ghosts behind her, Then why the hell can I understand these loons?

"Oh Juni-chan my love, you are looking so beautiful~ But then you always look gorgeous my lovely lovemuffin~" The male prematurely balding ghost gushed redundantly to his counterpart, a coy and prettily blushing twig of a woman. They were twined around each other intimately and floating a meter off the ground, languidly gliding down the sidewalk.

"Mah Tobi-kun, you're embarrassing me~" Stated the recently dubbed 'Juni-chan,' her wide smile belying any sort of mortification, if any, that the woman felt. "What if people see us like this, honey bear~?"

"No one can see us pookie~" Came the almost husky reply before the most disgusting slobbering noise echoed down the street as the two ghosts appeared to be fighting over each other's ectoplasmic uvula.

Making gross gagging sounds at the the display, the child specter turned in the opposite direction of the ghostly couple and jogged away, fervently hoping that she wouldn't run into them again. Back on her previous train of thought, being sure to scrub her brain of that sickening display, the specter mulled over the language problem or seeming lack thereof. Perhaps when you're dead, all language barriers are taken down, she wondered, tightening her scarf around her waist so it didn't trail on the ground. Only verbal barriers though... because I still can't read what all of these signs say... she added bitterly, glaring up at one of the street signs as if it had personally offended her.

A shock of brilliant orange hair in the spirit's peripheral vision made her quirk a brow. From what she's seen of this small town's populace and knowing the nationality of the indigenous humans, dark browns and blacks were the norm for hair color. Bright and shocking hair colors were for more the punk or scene-kid factions that were all about rebelling for whatever contrived reason. Out of morbid curiosity and boredom, she turned to glance in the direction of the garish hair color, in part to see what it was attached to and in another to maybe scoff and make fun of their poor color choice.

What met her eyes was not what she was expecting and she jolted into a double take faster than a gunshot.

Ashen eyes widened in surprise and disbelief as she slowly twisted her body to stare across the street. Looking no more than six years old, a tanned child with sun-kissed hair grinned widely at a beautiful woman with wavy brunette locks. Their hands were clasped gently and appeared to be striding in the same direction as other similarly paired up children.

"...It can't be," she murmured, grey eyes staring with disbelief at that oh-so-familiar head of orange hair. Snapping out of her reverie once they rounded the corner, the girl sped after them, heedless of pedestrians and traffic; her body easily passing through objects and people with barely a shiver.

Bandaged feet skid to a stop behind a light post, and the ghost peeked out from around the pole to watch the woman and child interact before a school gate. Pink lips upturned in a sweet smile, the woman ran long thin fingers gently through the boy's bright locks. "Okay Ichi-chan, are you ready?" The motherly woman asked, tenderly rubbing a manicured thumb over the child's smaller hand as he clutched her fingers tightly. "Don't be scared dear, I'm sure you'll love it."

Looking up at his mother, the boy's soulful brown eyes shimmered with nervousness. "But Kaa-chan, I don' know no one..." he argued, skittishly drawing closer to the woman when a larger boy ran too close. His eyes darted about uncertainly to pick out unfamiliar faces before imploringly returning his attention to his mother. "And... And what if… what if they don' like me?"

If it was possible, the girl spirit felt her heart flutter in sympathy at the admittance. Whoever could bring themselves to hate this ball of sunshine would surely have to be a monster.

Eye softening, the mother squeezed his tiny fist reassuringly. "Ichigo..." The woman murmured calmly, earning an involuntary startled jerk from the ghost, "...there will be children you know here. Tatsuki-chan is in the same grade so you should be seeing her around," she smiled sweetly at his hopeful expression, leaning down so she was eye level with her son and still petting the boy's hair to soothe him. "And how could anyone not like a sweet boy like you, hm?" Came the almost teasing query, earning silent approval from the apparition lurking a meter behind them. Straightening back up, the woman tugged him along slowly toward the school entrance, encouraging him all the way. "Don't worry dear, I'm sure you'll have lots of fun and meet all kinds of people—making new friends along the way. Think of it like an adventure~"

By the grimace he showed at that final comment, the specter could see that the boy wasn't terribly reassured and adventure was not exactly something he was seeking at this moment. Despite the feeling of warmth in her chest at seeing this bright and happy boy interacting with his mother, the spirit couldn't help but feel cold at the information she had just been given. Ichigo. As in Kurosaki Ichigo... Was standing right in front of her. The receptionist at the office counter confirmed the surname when Masaki, the boy's mother, checked in.

It was at that moment the girl knew she was done for.

Kurosaki Ichigo was real. Which meant that the spirits with chains coming out of their chests were indeed Pluses. And that meant Hollows were real too. Which meant Shinigami, Quincies, Arrancar, Gotei Thirteen. Aizen. All of them were real.

Either this was some sort of fucked up dream or the ghost had really somehow found herself in the Bleach universe.

Numbly mulling over her inevitable doom, the specter padded silently after the Kurosaki's, barely registering where they were going until a clamor broke her out of depressed musings. An auditorium filled with conversing parents and the raucous voices of children was laid out before her, chairs in neat rows sat facing a stage with a podium. Blinking at the sudden onslaught of sound and varied faces, the female ghost felt hapless among the crowd, already having lost sight of the boy and his mother.

Intent on keeping out of everyone's way, the specter kept to the back of the room where she had full view of everything.

The ceremony didn't take long to start, the parents taking their seats in a semi-orderly fashion and the older students seated in their respective area. With a round of applause spectators welcomed the new first years as they entered the auditorium in a line, Ichigo could be instantly spotted out of the mass by his halo of bright hair, his movements forced and nervous. His brightly glowing cheeks eliciting a sympathetic smile from the ghost as she observed the events taking place. After the new students took their seats at the front of the room, the principal of the school stood to introduce himself and droned out the speech he had prepared.

Feeling her eyes begin to droop as the principal continued his address in a bored drawl, the specter instead decided to muse over her predicament. First of all problems was that she was very much dead, and in such an odd state of death too. No one could see her, which only compounded upon her problems. Sure she could probably get away with a few rude gestures, but that got boring after a while with no one else to appreciate it.

Second, how in all the hells was she going to survive this? Yeah sure she couldn't interact with the living or dead right now, but there was always a possibility that it could change in the future. This series threw enough bullshit plot-device curve balls to fill an entire baseball diamond, and then some. Not to mention that several of the main characters themselves had a ridiculous, incalculable intelligence that made her skin crawl. Kurotsuchi. Urahara. Aizen... Sure Urahara was the de-facto Chaotic Good aligned madman super-genius that aided all of the characters in some form or another, but he was still a madman none-the-less. Him getting a hold of her in any way in the name of science did not elicit feel-good feelings of any kind. And if Urahara freaked her out with just his sheer potential, than the other two lunatics utterly terrified her.

Loud applause startled her out of her melancholic thoughts and she saw the younger kids splitting off into groups, ushered along by a couple of teachers. Looks like the ceremony was over. She saw Ichigo give his mother a forlorn wave as he and his classmates left the auditorium, and his mother gave him a pair of thumbs up in return, with a cheesy grin to match. The specter smiled at that, wondering just how much Isshin influenced her in the years they'd been together.

As the kids passed her by, she saw Ichigo turn and glance in her direction. Time seemed to slow and the world's vibrant colors began to grey out around them, the noise fading in the background. The specter felt her eyes widen as Ichigo made eye contact, the hairs on the nape of her neck standing on end as they stared at each other. A couple heartbeats passed, the sound like a drum in her ears. She watched in rapt fascination as his pupils contracted into pinpricks, the warm color of his irises draining out. Could he see her?

What is happening?

Ichigo averted his eyes and the moment ended, the specter let out breath that she didn't know she'd been holding as the boy scrubbed at his eyes, a bewildered expression twisting his pudgy face. She ducked into the wall before he could glance back, her body easily passing through the drywall and support beams. A repeat of what just transpired was not something she wanted on her wishlist. Damn it! The specter mentally cursed, biting on her lower lip in nervousness, Just what the hell is going on? How could Ichigo see me when no one else could? Pressing a hand to her chest, she felt her heart thump against her sternum. It was the same feeling she'd received when first awakening in this world.

A sense of foreboding.

A bad omen.

She needed to get out of here...

Her ghostly feet pounded against the tile, fleeing the elementary school as fast as she could, passing through walls and people alike without a care. This was not what she wanted, she needed to get as far away from 'The Plot' as possible. Who knows what she would screw up if she interfered or got involved in any manner. It was best to stay as far as fuck away as–

"Hey! You girl! Hey! Wait for me!" A young child-like voice called some distance behind her, making a shiver quake up her spine. Snapping her head back so fast that it make a cracking noise, the specter gaped as the object of her fear chased after her. His soft brown eyes filled with genuine concern as he gave chase.

How the hell did he escape from his teachers?! she asked herself in a panic, picking up her speed instead of slowing down like he'd asked, eliciting a protest from the well-meaning boy. The bad feeling she'd sensed earlier grew into full on dread as he pursued her off the school grounds. I mean, I knew that when he got older he was an accomplished escape artist, if only in the name of comedy relief... but for that behavior to start so early is a BIT concerning!

Glancing behind her to see if he was still following, the specter gave out a shriek when she saw that he was gaining on her. Damn, this kid can run! she marveled, feeling herself begin to trip over her bandages in her haste. With an agitated yelp she called back, "Stop following me!" in hopes that he would get the hint and cease chasing her. His next words, however nearly made her actually faceplant in embarrassment.

"It's okay to be e'scared of school!" Ichigo announced honestly, like he was divulging some great secret, only with the volume control tuned to eleven as little kids were prone to do.

The wayward spirit gaped, completely caught left field, Does… does this kid think I'm a freaking grade-schooler?! she stared, totally boggled by the very thought until remembering that she was in the body of a child around his age. Smacking herself in the face in exasperation, she scowled and turned her eyes forward, "Right, of course he does…"

He was just a child after all.

"My Kaa-chan says it's 'cary sometimes, but if you're wif a friend then it's not 'cary no more!" he rattled off wisely, nearly on her heels and utterly unfazed by her attitude. It truly was endearing how determined he was to make her feel better, when just an hour ago he was nearly shitting his own pants. This kid really had a good heart. Ichigo then smiled toothily, a big beaming grin that would have made any toothpaste commercial proud, "You wanna be my friend?"

"No!" she immediately barked, wincing when he gave her a look like she'd just struck him. Feeling horrible, she tried recanting, "Look kid, it's not personal… I'm not–"

She never got to finish her sentence, as the ghost found herself once again kissing asphalt. Damn these fucking bandages! she cursed vehemently, groaning out loud as she made her way to sit up. A voice somewhere behind her was yelling something, but it was unintelligible to her pain fogged mind.

Wait… pain?

Too busy mulling over old and rather missed sensations, the specter missed the imminent vehicle. A rough shove from behind caught her full attention however, pushing with enough force to send her tumbling head over heels in the air. One small voice desperately yelling for her to get out of the way resounded in her ears.

There was a screech of tires.

First thing she noticed once the world stopped flipping its shit, was that she was flying again; something that she hadn't quite bothered to try since her first mishap with the pavement. Second, was that there was a shit ton of screaming going on, like a metric ass load of it, and it wasn't stopping. Damn, that woman has got some lungs on her… she mused, still a bit baffled as to what just happened and straight up staring as the stranger belted her lungs out, But no, seriously why the fuck is she screaming? Glancing about, she saw a crowd gathering on the street, the amount of people creating a barricade to other vehicles along the thoroughfare.

A cold feeling overtook her then. And she hesitantly floated her way over the the inner circle of onlookers.

What she saw made her choke back a shout of her own.

Kurosaki Ichigo... was dead.

A/N: Picking out little kid dialogue for young Ichigo was a lot of fun and incredibly endearing. Little kids can be cute when they aren't being little hellions. :D

Also don't worry, the name of our surly heroine will be announced in the next chapter, so stay tuned!