Mirage
A Bleach Fan-fiction
Miso Bird
A/N: I do not own Bleach, Mr. Kubo does.
CHAPTER ONE – 'Memories Better Left Gone'
The child, about twelve, rubbed his eyes.
What is this...?
He felt like he was floating in a field of absolute white, a wonderful, beautiful, sterile white. He couldn't move, but that didn't matter. He only had to stay where he was and not struggle for the feeling of serenity to wash over him like a downpour of good feelings. He had never, not at all in the painful life he had had before, had felt so...safe. Jovial. Right. As these feelings raced through him, he could see tiny, white, speckles of cold fall from the sky, filling his body with the sensation of cold. Cold wasn't bad. It was simply elemental, natural.
Better still, he could move now. He floated through the landscape gracelessly, flipping and turning and bonking into the invisible, white, snow-covered ground. But it didn't matter whether he could have broken his neck or pinky finger in the process; there was no pain when he hit something, no blood if he cut something. He could only feel happiness. And he succeeded in that one, simple mission in his life here now: he felt absolutely and completely spoiled rotten by these wondrous feelings. As he lolled about in the now thin layer of snow, he couldn't think of anything else that would make this better was a snazzy new outfit, maybe a long white overcoat with coattails that flew out behind him, a scarlet red vest, maybe a white collared shirt over i-
Scarlet...
Papi and Mami...scarlet...men in scarlet...scarlet on the floor...yelling...screaming...oh, Mami and Papi...NO!!!
The memories came rushing back through the broken levee that was his consciousness, filling his mind with the grotesque images that had shaped within his mind with a stunning efficiency. The gunshots. The screaming. The fighting. The death.
His death.
The landscape around the child began to swirl and morph, its sterile white becoming a filthy black. The sky now clouded with angry rain clouds, massive and dark, that blasted fire from it's belly towards the child, throwing him to his feet. The force had torn many cuts in the child's body, the most serious being a wide gash that went horizontally across his eyes, effectively blinding him. He screamed in agony as the dark, freezing cold ground around him was stained with red.
" ¡Esto es para tratar a la zanja la Coalición, usted joder estúpido mujer-stealer traidor!"
"¡No, no! ¡No Alejandro, POR FAVOR, no!! ¡Deje al niño solo, ME mata en lugar!!"
His father begging the bad men in scarlet not to kill him...
The dark-skinned man in scarlet and white, the leader, refusing and pulling the trigger of his revolver at point blank on the child – him – causing his father to go into a homicidal rage...
His mother grieving over their dead bodies...
"Roderick, Alejandro. estela ..por favor...por favor, arriba... ¡POR QUE, DIOS, POR QUE LOS TOMA?! ¡CONTESTEME, MALDITA SEA!!!"
Within the confines of that dark, dark, bloody place of torment...
"NOOOOO!!!!"
Alejandro Roderick-Angelia Castillo screamed.
---
Should I feel proud? Probably not, but I'll say it anyway:
FUCK YEAH, I'M GOOD.
Honestly, I found this difficult to write for a while.
But now I don't.
See you all later.