We walk our separate ways on this broken glass of a path, our bare feet bruised and cut leaving pretty little trails of crimson. People follow after us, using our bleeding trails as a way to track us down and keep tabs. With all this close surveillance and no freedom, we can barely call ourselves humans, but that time of being ignorant has long passed. We are no longer oblivious creatures shuffling in the living world, we have become the distant shadows of the night (creeping, creeping along where nobody notices, and never will).
This sharp, prickling path has damned us. We must follow orders; we must help or destroy human kind. Either way, it's all for the humans, the ever so spoiled humans, right? That's what we've came to believe. My feet have grown so numb and the feeling of being watched, yet knowing I wasn't, has grown second nature, like breathing.
But, the pain of walking, having to continue in this abstract life hurts. And it's for the humans or some dead beings desire to be great, yes, it's only for someone else besides me and you. We both know this, yet why do we bow our heads like obedient dogs? Am I not supposed to tear throats out in the blink of an eye when I have the chance? I continue to stroll down this shiny destructive path, embedding shiny gems in my throbbing feet.
But if I did what satisfaction would be given to me? Fleeting pleasure of knowing I can kill, take life away, and the sense of drowning my starved mind with the blood that spills from my victim? No, that doesn't sound too extravagant in my mind. No, it doesn't even sound lovely, but a need to do so keeps reemerging in my body.
An Arrancar, hollows that obtained soul reaper powers, an Espada, the best of the best of Arancars. What did that mean to me, for I was one? I started out as a demon engineered to eat people's souls for its own selfish needs, but then been given a mind, a focus, and an influence.
What was I, besides a loyal subject of a strong soul reaper?
Was I more of a hollow or soul reaper? Did I have more of a conscience or a killing instinct?
Was I more human or monster?
(Broken glass can be heard crunching underneath feet, crunch, crunch, crunch, but she wasn't exactly alone)
I dragged my feet along. I have long forgotten the pain of these endless cuts and merciless path, but instead I focus my attention on who was watching me. They were expecting me to walk this broken path with a stoic face, back erect, and a wind of authority in my wake.
But would I be able to keep this up? Will I soon be replaced with a better subject? Was I nothing more but a pawn in this game?
I have long forgotten the pain, but the glass reminds me that it is there, pounding into my body, with each frightening step, the tiny broken pieces make a shrill sound like that of a small bell. Something so tiny and fragile that made me alert and wary that people watched my every step.
I would continue to strut down this path, eventually looking around for the eyes that I knew that was watching me, but couldn't find them, yet, I knew they were there, somewhere. I glanced around but I could only see darkness and this broken road that hurt to walk on, but led to great fortunes, so I heard.
But what if there was nothing and I came to a dead-end? What if the people watching me finally decided to push me off this narrow path? What would happen?
Was I good enough for everyone?
(The small girl continued on her path, wondering whether she was paranoid of eyes watching her or not.)
Two figures slowly came along the path- each one heading towards each other for a collision. The smaller girl's eyes widened. Was this a match? Was she to kill the person in her way to glory? What was she supposed to think of this?
Her pace quickened.
The darker girl stopped briefly. A figure was approaching her fast. Who was this? Did she follow the same path but from a different direction? Was this her messiah to lead her to the answers she sought for?
She erected her back and leisurely made her way towards the figure.
The two met, in the middle of the path and stopped, staring at each other in amazement. The trails of blood behind them leaking off the narrow shard-filled road and into oblivion while they soaked in the image of each other in their minds, savoring the view of another person, but unsure what to do, until the smallest spoke up in anxiety.
"Soul reaper, authority, death, justice," was the only things that left her lips. She was startled. She didn't mean to say that! She continued to try and talk, trying to introduce her self but those were the words that only came out of her mouth. The taller girl crossed her arms.
"Arrancar, Espada, Death, Kill, Kill," she replied. She was, too, taken back on what escaped her lips. She attempted to try and restate what she said but that's all what could be told to the other.
They sat in silence. Words were something they could not share. Neither could understand why, but their minds kept pointing to the beginning of their trek, clarifying that they came from to separate places and weren't allowed to associate.
They thought differently, so therefore speak differently.
The oldest stared down at the small girl. She looked fragile and soft. Easy to kill. She certainly couldn't have been sent to save her. She expected a taller and more cunning looking person. Someone she could look up to, and not down on. But, the attraction in her eyes, the blood that lingered behind her, the darkness that consumed her and the same glass that embedded in her feet was all too addictive for the dark girl's sore eyes. She couldn't help but eye the other in marvel, wondering what corner of the universe she came from.
The smallest looked up to the older girl. Who was she and what was she doing on this path? Nothing could be seen through the blond's green eyes. They were stoic and calm.
They were so different, black on white, blue and red, lime and lemon. They were of the same essence; they were both once human, but altered to someone's sadistic liking.
But, they both held the same question: Why was the other walking from their desired destination?
Did they come from the glory or answers? Why were they running away from the other's heaven?
They continued to stare at each other, until the smallest pointed towards the direction the other came from.
"Glory," she said with a firm voice. The other jumped in startle. Glory? That was hell back there. The girl would surely walk into her own death. She pointed towards her destination.
"Answers," she announced. The smallest looked back. No, there was nothing to be held back there besides more pain and disappointments.
They both remained quiet again, dumbfounded that the other yearned to be where the other ran away from. They both knew the other couldn't find what she was searching for in the end.
Their feet idly burned, the sound of glass crunching not heard, and the eyes that they both once felt left them alone.
The smallest brought her hand up in confusion. Has she been traveling the wrong way? She couldn't decide. The other was just as puzzled, secretly wondering if she went through all the pain for nothing. She slowly brought her hand up as well and stared at it.
Why were they walking this painful and spotlight road?
They both put their hands up against each other. There was something there, with the other person, but what was it? A feeling of accomplishment and happiness filled their heads, the tallest quickly removing her hand as if it hurt her. The other held her hand up in comfort, knowing that was what she wanted to feel.
But, their minds were not satisfied. They wanted glory and answers, not happiness.
The oldest was the first to move, silently savoring the feeling she never felt and continued on her way. The smallest watched her leave her sight before going her way too.
Their paths crossed, that was for sure, but their minds were not settled. They continued to stroll down the paths that would eventually kill them in the end, for they did not belong there, but instead should've belonged in the middle where they met the other person, and enjoy the simple delight it brought to feel each other.
They knew this when their goals were manifesting before them, revealing only pictures and illusions rather than feelings and peace at mind.
But, the feeling of the others wet blood on their wounds made it all worthwhile, knowing that the other was here and originated from there. Yet, they would never become smart enough to know that it was never too late to turn around and find the true essence of the comfort, in each other's arms where they belonged.
Human or not, watched or unwatched, confused or clarified, different or same, they knew that briefest instant when their goals slowly tarnished them to shreds as the glass path fell into the darkness, never to be sought after again, that they should've turned around and stayed with the other.
A/N:
Some deep stuff for some deep readers. You can enjoy this. Reviews are pretty damn loved! But, I know you lazy readers won't do it!