We have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins,
carbon in our souls, and nitrogen in our brains.
93 percent stardust, with souls made of flames,
we are all just stars that have people names.

-Nikita Gill

Prologue

Kurosaki Ichigo was seated on a comfortable mossy patchwork of wildflowers and wild grass at the base of the abandoned lighthouse by the eastern cliffs. Behind him, a tattered flyer fluttered in the mild breeze, touting an uprising for equality between the Seers and Clairvoyants.

Ichigo didn't believe such rubbish could be possible.

Talks of the impending uprising and its accompanying social instability was, as far as he was concerned, completely unnecessary. The social gap between the Seers and Clairvoyants had been in place for as long as history was recorded, and all this meant was that his chances of being publicly lynched for being a Seer were highly unlikely to change for the better anyway - he would rather spend his time avoiding the less-than-pleasant people of the Kingdom of Cair.

Cair was, as far as Ichigo was considered, a minute kingdom. With a grand population of less than three thousand and a childless ageing monarch, the Kingdom of Cair was really just a rock in the sea with a castle in the middle. And some nice cliffs and a pretty waterfall. In fact, the monarchy's glaring lack of an heir apparent was beginning to worry the higher-ups, while it remained the butt of many jokes among the regular civilians. Ichigo wasn't too bothered – he was pretty sure the King would do something about it eventually.

As one of his efforts to shy away from public interaction, Ichigo was waiting for night to fall, for the sky was clear as glass and the moon was due to rise late - perfect for watching the stars. He loved lying back in the surrounding darkness, simply watching the constellations rise and fall, tracing perfect arcs around the northern celestial pole. The sky changed from season to season, but the stars themselves never did - their light twinkled and wavered seemingly weakly, but they never faded, never changed, never ceased to provide him an eternal calm.

The time he spent alone stargazing was always a welcome respite, a small one-man universe where the world didn't look down their noses upon Seers - people like him who saw into the past. It wasn't anything they could control, wasn't anything anyone could control, yet someone had to take the blame for something society didn't like. He hated not being able to look people in the eye, not being able to know for sure what someone looked like, for fear of being an unwilling audience to their memories, then being put down for invasion of privacy, being held responsible for something he couldn't control. He only knew the faces of people whose past he had once seen.

In the coming spring, ten years would have passed since his mother's death, and though he wasn't foolish enough to believe the common lore that the souls of the dead rose above the earth as stars to watch over them, he liked to think that she was very much like the stars - never changing, ever burning, always on his side. His sisters couldn't remember her, but he would eternally be haunted by her absence. As a result - slightly creepy, he had to admit, even if only to himself - the memories he saw from others were mostly before that time period, before he turned seven and lived an obliviously happy childhood with both parents.

Now, while he was waiting for the sky to darken, he was fiddling with his new binoculars, twirling the knobs and revelling in how smooth and responsive the chunky contraption was, looking around the Islands of Cair. There was a regal-looking carriage pulled by two incredibly well groomed steeds, running through the central streets of the town. It shook slightly as it made its way down the uneven brick roads that snaked around the main island like an unruly spider's web. It really was a nice carriage, he thought to himself as he followed its journey out of town with his binoculars, with its intricate carving outside and heavy curtains inside.

In hindsight, he knew he was an idiot for not looking away when a pair of hands within the carriage swept the dark curtains aside, but perhaps he thought that the sheer distance would overcome the impact of seeing someone eye to eye, or perhaps he had been too caught up with other thoughts and was just looking without thinking. Either way, he was now a first-class idiot and criminal, because the face that looked out the window was one he had seen too many times - in photographs, on stamps, everywhere, and his breath caught in his throat.

The moment he was about to be thrown at least ten years into the King's past, he knew he was doomed.

It was like being punched in the stomach, then probably like being thrown into space and sucked down a wormhole, not that he would ever find out what that actually felt like. Reality stretched and fell away from his senses, spinning maddeningly and terrifyingly and fading into a distant mist, though he knew nothing of the sort was actually happening, and he could feel the soft ground under him even as the sensation of unstoppable, uncontrollable falling overwhelmed him, whirling in a mix of colours faster and faster around him. He knew it would eventually stop, and he would be faced with experiences and emotions and memories and nostalgia that weren't his, yet every single time, he didn't know what to expect.

The falling and spinning didn't slow gradually like it usually did, and instead screeched to an abrupt halt, as if he had been switched to a separate plane of existence momentarily, before being dumped back down in reality, where he was disoriented and confused and out of breath.

He had heard of such things, but never quite believed it could actually happen. But he could think of no other explanation for the sudden interruption of the vision.

Why does the King have a block on his memories?

What could have happened, that the King would want so badly to forget?

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Hi! I've been writing! This fic's title was based on the above quote, as you might have guessed, and is about the other seven percent that makes us human, makes us different from each other, makes us who we are. It's a slightly heavy theme, but the narration is light! It's also about the transition of Hitsugaya's character from the weird kid he used to be to the stoic troubled adult(?) we all know and love. I know this chapter doesn't have him in it, but trust me, he's the main character. Ichigo's the loyal sidekick, as usual. Just a warning, though, that while I am a firm believer in Hitsugaya's cold genius and intelligence, I also sincerely believe he has a streak of evil brat that he calculatedly unleashes upon his opponents and flummoxes them into defeat. Artistic liberties, humour me, please.

I was also planning to have this up by the end of summer break, but I've gone and done a terrific job of that, haven't I? Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, everyone!