Death In Bloom, a bleach fanfic

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. I make no profit.

Warning: Rated based on Legend of O-Tei and Red Thread. Character Death/s. Reincarnation. Long, one-shot fic. Somewhat OOC. Ichigo's line in the FTB ending scene

Chapter Word Count: 11,056

General Summary: Throughout their many lives, Ichigo and Rukia's threads never reached one another.

Death In Bloom

…o0o…o0o…o0o…

It doesn't know when it begun and when it will end. It dances elegantly, along the married chaos and silence in the vast and timeless break in existence, lost and floating. It is neither here nor there. No past, present or future. It exists alongside life or death or both.

Then consciousness steer. When it cries, no one hears. It doesn't know. It moves, pitiful in its facile, shapeless glide against the torrential mass of billowing clouds, of intensely colored hazes concentrating in different spectrums along the cosmic darkness or is it light flaring… it doesn't know. It cannot see. It doesn't know its creator –if it has one.

The path of life is everywhere. Alight, serene and inviting. It has to find one, like millions of the similar shapeless consciousness, plunging ahead in the faceless unknown.

It is not rebirth –this is the first life.

…0…

Hard work –the basis, the center of his life. Ichigo was in charge of working in the farm, of the actual manual work in the farm. His strong and well-honed body can withstand the harshest of weather. His long and resilient limbs can carry the heaviest of sacks and carry them to their small storage hut. The sinewy muscles of his legs let him run as fast as a superior animal in pursuit of a prey. His mind, sharp and full of wit, capable of creating complex animal traps in case of draught in the farm. His large but nimble body can work hard and consistent, able to keep up with the unyielding and fast demands of the village chief.

It is almost harvest time, and Ichigo once again trekked back to the rice fields. He needed to produce a good number of crops this time or their family ration will be smaller than the last and he'd be forced to hunt smaller animals in the nearby woods.

He grew up in the family of five –now three. A time where extreme social rules are very simple and cruel ruling is scarce, but never non-existent. They own a small property, a rich land ideal for crops. He and his father managed it with occasional help from his mother. His parents were called to the capital but they never returned. He supposed they will never return, they left fifteen years ago. No matter how much he missed his mother and father, he didn't look for them as per his father's instructions before they left, he still have his sisters to care for ad going to the capital is quite a risk.

The only good thing they left is the farm itself, it served as their lifeline. He took care of his sister and they helped him in the farm: he'd do the actual work and they'd be in charge of placing it in storage and ready it for delivery. He didn't care if most of the fields are seized by the village chief or the fact that the politics somewhat grew that they are forced to work on their own field for others as long as his sister are well fed. He, however, greatly cared for their safety and won't hesitate to use his prized hunting skills –which he learned from their ancestors and father when he was younger- to anyone who dare pose a threat against their safety.

Fifteen years ago, when his parents didn't return after several weeks, he was forced to become a man and care for his sisters. He started shaky and blind but later, he learned the ropes of raising a family –his sisters, in this case- and he slowly learned to feed themselves through his hard work. Hard work became his beloved deity. Though there are still plenty of times when he couldn't bring home a single grain for his sisters that he would find large buckets of corns in the opening of his hut. He never knew where they came from but it helped him a lot. This continued over the years, in times of draught and bad luck. He always wondered who was it but he never found out though he was grateful.

One night as he was on his way home from gathering grains, he met a stranger; he turned out to be some kind of priest. He thought it was unusual for a priest to roam at night. He continued to walk until the priest suddenly stopped him, smiled at him and told him he'll find his future wife sometime in the future and also asked if he wanted to see her now. Bewildered and annoyed, he didn't believe the priest and strongly rejected the idea. He doesn't have time for bizarre nonsense like this. Ichigo, without his parents and as young as he was, already knew the hardships of life as he was forced to take care of his sisters at only nine years of age. He thought that whoever this girl was, she's nothing but a potential burden. He reacted negatively and vocally wished that he may never meet her. The priest was aghast and warned him that his rejection of their meeting might displease the god and cause a lot of misfortunes and lifetimes of tragedies. He didn't care; life was hard enough.

He also remembered his mother strongly believed in the existence of a red string. She once mentioned that it was what brought her to his father.

Ichigo forgot about it and never again these memories visited him until this one particular day.

Before the dawn, Ichigo found himself already wide awake and sweating. All his thoughts about the unusual dream are forgotten the moment he remembered that he has sisters to feed. He wadded on the ankle deep wet field and stared at his surroundings –hissing at the small rodents that ran past his feet.

He hoped that they could have a good harvest; he hoped to survive the winter in good fortune.

It was shortly after the sun had risen that he saw people, a lot of them, shouting and cursing. He looked over and noted how loud the noises were. They were not far from his location in the field, in fact, they were merely meters from him. He couldn't see what was it about, he stopped for a moment and craned his neck to try and hear what exactly they were saying but he can't. However, he could make out a small figure in the center. In the middle of an angry mob was a petite, black-haired girl clad in simple clothes. She was so small and thin. The villagers kept pushing her and she eventually fell flat on the mud-filled.

"Thief!"

To his surprise, the black haired girl actually looked at his direction, straight to him and he felt something struck his gut. He didn't like the way she was looking at him: like she knew him, like she knew his soul to the very depths, like she knew his intimate secrets.

She wasn't begging him to help her or anything, she was just looking at him. Even with trickles of blood on her pale face, the tangles of her once shiny hair framed her face –her eyes remained bright. He felt uncomfortable and taken aback at the familiarity she held against him, he never met her before.

A group of men and women threw her stones and kicked her repetitively until she was blocked from his view. He was a naturally kind kid, before the weight and reality of life crushed him. He could help, he supposed. But for what? And if he did, she probably lost her family and he'd be expected to feed and care for her. He couldn't afford such burden right now.

He didn't know her and didn't dare try to.

The girl and her family must have done something wrong.

He went back to work and let the people stone the petite, black-haired girl.

This was not his business.

That night, Ichigo went back home to see his sisters huddled in a corner and talking with grave expressions in their faces. They were, of course, talking about the incident this morning. From his sisters, he learned that the girl he saw earlier had her small hut burned, and she previously worked as an errand girl for the village chief. They say she was a bad spirit and a thief. He didn't know why they said such things. But then, she wasn't his family, he should ignore her.

The girl was casted outside the small village and into the woods, she probably already met her death from the jaws of dangerous and voracious wolves that he had met and fended so many times before. She wasn't his family. It was also raining badly, not the good kind for crops, but a very bad one. Good thing his sisters can sleep even with the noise. He opted to stay overnight. The rain was too heavy and he feared for their shallowly built hut. He decided he would have to reinforce this tomorrow morning.

Many days later, his harvest wasn't as good as he hoped. Their rations came and it was exponentially lower than last time. It will barely keep them alive for a few days so he decided to take his tools and hunt for small animals. It took him a day to fully reach the deepest part of the woods where most of the animals reside and where the largest trees with edible fruits are planted.

Nobody goes here, it was far too dangerous and it will take serious courage to step one foot onward and superb survival skills to make it out alive. Frequent, lashing rain also devastated him along the way. Luckily, he found a secluded cave among the towering and large oaks of unnamed trees to take temporary refuge.

The cave was incredibly dark but it wasn't much of an issue. He wished nothing but for the rain to stop, he needed his hunt.

Usually, he wasn't really scared of the unknown. Alone and cold in the middle of nowhere inside a cave is nothing unfamiliar. Uneasiness and agitation, he felt when he heard a shallow breathing retreated far back in the dark cave.

Ichigo stared at the shadow, his muscles tensed and ready to pounce, in case it's a dangerous animal that like him, took the shelter of the cave offered.

It wasn't.

It was a girl: the same, shunned girl. The girl retreated to a dark cave after she was ostracized, huddled to herself and she's still alive. She was still dressed in the same dirty clothes the day he saw her: torn, bloody and filthy clothes. She noticed his presence and she slowly looked up. He felt a certain kind of guilt and he didn't know where it came from.

She has a very sallow skin and pale face with sunken eyes. She was such a small woman and it looked as though she had frozen to death. It was obvious she hadn't eaten for days.

But then, it wasn't his business whether she die or not. He has a family to take care of and she wasn't part of it and he wasn't obliged to help her.

But then again, he wouldn't have to remind himself over and over again if he wasn't feeling this inexplicable feeling of guilt towards her since he first saw her.

Maybe, he could somewhat help her this one time. He doesn't have to take full responsibility of her and perhaps, he could push this unusual feeling of guilt with this little act.

He hesitated but took two tentative steps and checked on her condition. She was too weak. He took out his half-eaten corn and offered it to her. If she could, she would probably wolf it down but she was too tired to even move her hands. Instead, she looked up at him with the same familiarity he didn't like. She wasn't as pretty, he discovered as he help her move her arms. Her eyes slowly opened and he was disappointed to see the fading color of her bright eyes. She was in pain.

Ichigo sat beside her and didn't talk.

The first time they meet in the cave, they never talked, he just handed her pieces of his food and she took it quietly. They sat in silence. He also left her his water jug and his small knife. And when the rain stopped, he left her alone. She survived for days, she could probably survive more.

His farm continued to suffer the worse luck and he was forced to go back to hunting just after three days. He tried to stay away from that cave but he was somehow drawn to it. He promised himself only a glimpse of her state and he will immediately leave, regardless.

He arrived in the cave and found out that she made a temporary life for herself. Reluctantly amazed at her prowess, he gawked at the small pieces of wares he didn't know where she got.

'I am a thief.' She said when he asked what she did.

Her voice sounded like a male, harsh and husky but has an underlying softness.

'So the villagers were right for exiling you?'

She didn't answer.

'Rukia is my name.'

'Ichigo.'

In his next visit, he brought her clothes. Yuzu's old clothes perfectly fit her and she thanked him for it endlessly. For the first time, she actually smiled. Ichigo was so taken aback that he stared more than he should. He didn't know where these little acts of kindness are coming from but he learned to tolerate it. They often have little conversations here and there and Ichigo felt more comfortable as he spend more of his resting time talking to her. He found out she often stole in the house of the village chief. When he asked why, she only answered someone needed it badly.

And she offered him a sad smile.

For Rukia. She knew Ichigo many years before. She had seen him when a stranger suddenly approached her and asked if she wanted to see her destined. Her young age and curiosity made her agree to the stranger, no matter how silly it sounded. The stranger smiled at her, held her hand and led her to a dark farm. She was surprised to see an orange haired boy of her age already working in the farm. The stranger told her that he's the boy for her: his name is Ichigo. The boy looked as though he was about to cry. Why? She asked. The stranger answered that his parents disappeared and the boy was left fending for his sisters.

She saw his state and was saddened; she sought ways to help him. She stole grains and corns from the house of the village chief and bought it to Ichigo's house many times over the years, he never found out it was her. It helped him a lot, she knew and she was very happy. The chief never saw her steal his stored food repetitively, partly because of its massive abundance. But one day, her luck ran out.

She never told Ichigo this.

In his next visits, he reluctantly learned things about her. The girl –Rukia, was very strong.

"How was your family?"

"They are fine… thank you for asking."

She continued to surprise him with her antics like drawing ugly doodles on the cave wall and how she'd rather die than eat a rabbit meat. He taught her how to hunt and snickered at her adamant refusal to eat rabbits. She taught him how to climb high trees, something that he wasn't very good at. He showed her how to plant edible plants and her face would light up at the idea of small tomatoes. He found it unusually enjoyable to tease her.

"Ichigo! Not that one! You Idiot!"

"What? Why don't you come up here instead of ordering me?!"

He cared deeply for his sisters but he never told them about his undefined friendship with Rukia, they'll certainly demand to see her and Ichigo can't take her to the village and risk her to the angry villagers, the possibility of danger for her was too high.

"You aren't crying…or are you?"

"I wasn't, you fool!"

Little by little, he learned to loosen up and he started to actually consider her well-being.

For a thief, she wasn't so bad.

They know they are not friends nor do they have a very strong foundation for friendship. They shared only a little of their time. They interacted but nothing extremely significant happened to the both of them, but somehow, he knew something strong is tied to them, he doesn't know what it was but it's always there. Pulsing and dim but it's there, strong and unseen. He knew but he still refused to acknowledge this tiny attraction.

In his fifteenth visit, she was no longer in the cave.

Four days later, the villagers discovered the outcast girl's dead body –Rukia's.

Ichigo, before the news of her dead body spread, tried looking for her. He thought she went out and looked for food since her stolen belongings are still in the cave. He waited for her until nightfall but she never returned. He knew she must be in a tight spot but he also knew she could handle herself. Still, he decided to go back to the village in case of discovered thievery and this time, he will actually defend her. He didn't care about the reason, he will certainly defend her.

Nothing happened. Over the next days, he visited the cave again and it was in the same way he left it. She never returned. Again, he tried looking everywhere. After working in the farm or hunting, he'd find time for her. Tirelessly, he went from place to place looking for a discovered little thief. No such luck.

When the news broke out, Ichigo took it as a fact.

It was unexpected and it shook him but nothing showed. Ichigo took it like he would months ago: he heard and walked out. Ichigo can't continue his undefined friendship with a dead girl. He can't be with a dead girl. He didn't bother to know the reason though he heard the villagers cogitated she had died of hunger. Impossible, he thought, he taught her how to hunt. Some said that she was killed by a rogue criminal.

He watched when his villagers bury the girl in the far side of the woods, in a very secluded location like they don't want her to have visitors. He can't mourn this fleeting encounter. But he can't deny that some things changed. He was right, she was a diversion and he momentarily forgot his duties. Tired, resigned and defeated, he went back to his old self.

But this time, he brought a little improvement with him.

In deep recesses of his mind, he knew it's because he hadn't protected her the first time. It's because he was selfish and unkind the first time.

The priest warnings of misfortune and tragedies proved to be true as he lived the rest of his impoverished life and watched helplessly as his sisters die of unknown sickness and he himself had fallen ill: alone, distraught and regretful.

He never visited Rukia's grave.

Over the years, he would never admit, even to himself, that he terribly hoped to make it up to Rukia. The undefined relationship that was cut short, very short.

The next lifetime or whenever, he may never know who she might be in the next life thus he decided to protect everyone from now on. In his next life and the next until his existence dissolved into nothing. It was his dying promise.

…

…o0o…o0o…o0o…

It has little recognition. Sparse, coarse and brittle. It still cannot see, but it has awareness. Precious in its uniqueness. Full of limitations in its immaturity. Fails in functionality against the massive stardust.

It is in the colossal sea of shapeless entities that are searching, and searching, and searching for another way to experience life, eager to live for the second time. Again. Until they die.

But this recognition, this formless consciousness refuse to enter a path, a light that will guide it back to life.

It refused because it knew it lost its other half.

But this is a cycle.

…0…

It's the last night of the Urabonkai.

Though it rained a little, the procession for the festival of the hungry dead still continued and the o-bon odori resumed. Rukia watched from the sidelines of the street; silent, decorous and very observant. She was dressed in black furisode with a red obi tied at the back. She avoided the mostly heavy and often multi-layered court dresses as it would attract a lot if unwanted looks and questions. She doesn't want to draw attention to herself as a court lady: she simply wanted to see the normality. People in the court often regarded her as stunning and needless to say, she's the lone prim and proper flower amongst the commoner -or weeds.

Rukia watched with indolent eyes as the events of the night near its conclusion: dancers who completed their routine, the lighted lanterns that illuminated the lower night sky and emitted the strange cloud formations but a shade lighter than the hue of the universe, and finally, the monks with their chants and the offerings. This is the festival for the dead and people would gather to honor the dead and as well as the living.

Rukia chose to commemorate the festival outside the daidairi –or the imperial city- where the noble court members reside. She found the court to be too much suffocating and for once, she really wanted to see the outside world. And she hated the memories.

This time, unlike last year, Rukia was remembering three deaths.

This event ended and while others anticipated going home, Rukia wasn't looking forward into going back to the court. She could stay in the commoners' place for hours and not move a muscle, if it meant not going back to the court. For her second life, Rukia was reborn as a woman proudly raised from a renowned family in the imperial court. Rukia served as a lady-in-waiting to the Empress Consort in the Imperial Court since she was fifteen. After her initial three year service ended, her father -who was then a provincial official- arranged her marriage to a government official of considerable power. But because of a certain event, she went back to service only a year ago. Her second life was also filled misfortune and death much like her first.

It was when the people started leaving that she felt a small tug at the sleeve of her dress and murmured, in his squeaky little voice, "Aren't we going?"

Rukia glanced beside her to see a little boy holding on to her dress.

Surprised, confused and without a word, Rukia quickly held the boy's hand and looked around for a person losing a child –she never bought a child with her. She sifted through each person that passed her and looked for some sign of worry. With a positive result that none of the townsmen seemed to have a lost a child as they were all busy to go home as hurriedly as possible, she held the boy's hand and ushered him to a tree, away from the fire lanterns as she saw his interest with it and might suddenly wish to play.

She didn't know what was worse: the lost boy in her hand, the fact that she didn't know him -or her unfamiliarity of the place. Rukia looked at the boy and he didn't look scared at all. He was, in fact, chewing on his sleeve casually and utterly unmindful of his surroundings. "Aren't we going?" He asked again, peering up at her in his big eyes.

Concerned at the prospect of suddenly taking care of a lost child, Rukia leaned down to his height level –which wasn't much.

"What is your name?" She finally asked, a reminiscent of her maternal nature.

The boy pouted and crossed his little arms. "What? You don't know my name? They said I was well-known!" Rukia tilted her head in confusion; the boy act as though he was raised in the Imperial Court.

She knew that when dealing children, one better play along to gain their cooperation, she sighed. "Well, would you honor my existence with your name then?"

The boy unhinged his arms and puff out his chest. "You asked nicely, so I will tell you…It is It-chi-go." The boy tugged then her sleeve in tune with the syllables as if to emphasize his importance. "I-chi-go!"

Rukia slowly withdrew her hand. After regaining her initial surprise, she smiled gently and bowed deeply to the young prince.

"There…I thought you weren't going to do that." Ichigo the young prince said smugly.

"This is most troublesome."

One of the intermarriages of a powerful clan to the imperial family resulted in the birth of a young prince. He's not the crowned prince yet, but he might be. This boy will surely have a grandiose life, emperor or not, he will still have a future vastly different from the commoners here. He's wearing a light blue and black hakama and kamishino, with a chrysanthemum crest on the sleeves.

"I am very sorry to ask, but how come you are here?" She bowed. The important issue is how on earth the boy managed to get out of the castle.

"I followed you."

Rukia gasped. This little boy is just nine years old. What were his guards doing? She looked around; she hoped nobody knew this boy but the crest on his sleeves is very telling.

"Forgive me, but why would you do that?" She tried to sound disappointed. She wanted to reprimand the boy but she needed to keep in mind his status. Even in that young age, he's very much above her level.

The boy's reaction quickly turned crestfallen. "Why? Is it bad? Is it wrong? Am I going to get punished?" The boy murmured and stepped closer to her. The boy had this somewhat innocent ignorance in him, like at his age, the concept what is wrong and right is still a mystery. "I…I just thought it is fine! I do not want to sleep. And I saw you going out in that secret door behind the sakura tree!" Oh, so he knew about the door. Rukia thought with ire.

Rukia patted the boy's head, if anyone is to see her, she would be in for extensive questioning. However, she doesn't regret coming across this boy, he might get in trouble. Rukia thought that if the boy managed to sneak out then maybe, she could sneak him in quietly, to avoid questions and accusations. She was so sure that it is way past his bedtime.

"Tell me, no one knew about you sneaking out?"

"Only you." The boy answered sheepishly. "Well? Are you going to tell my father?"

"Yes, I must, for your safety." No, she won't. If she could scare him into thinking that, she might be able to keep him safe. And she'll do something about the door behind the tree.

Rukia offered her hand to the boy. "We can go back now." Ichigo took her hand. She hoped that they could go back without any unprecedented events.

…

It was a long way back to the main imperial city and she tried to avoid the main street with drunken people so she took the outskirt way. Nevertheless, they reached the riverbank and Ichigo abruptly stopped walking, he turned silent.

"What are you remembering?" She asked him gently. Though he was a boy, she felt that he was somehow older –but still childish and incredibly reckless. That way he stared at the riverbanks reminded her of something she couldn't quite put her fingers on.

"My mother." The little boy answered simply before he ran to the riverside and sat beside the small stone linings. His eyes, the same color of light honey tea -or amber. Amber that was so familiar yet vague to her.

"I have a son the same age as you." Rukia smiled.

She too, sat with him. He's a little boy and she could see this is his way of mourning and remembering. She had guessed that he snuck out because he truly wanted to visit this place and didn't tell her. And only coincidentally saw and followed her from the small town.

"Can I play with him?"

"I am very sorry." Rukia answered sadly. The memory was as still as fresh and have no desire of reliving it the moment she made her decision.

"They say my mother died beside this river, she was killed by a bad man while protecting me."

For an hour, Rukia listened to his vivid stories and recollection of his mother and him playing in this very river, his father -whom Rukia heard but never met- and Ichigo's sisters: princesses with opposing attitudes. His mother was his sun, his world literally revolved around her. Rukia could see it, his eyes shone with the mention of her name –Masaki and went dark when he recalled how she died.

Rukia listened to him intently and barely gave the time a thought. If the castle panicked, she would know. She still planned to sneak him in using the door. And, would she really dare disturb him with his vivid stories of his mother that was somewhat engrossing to her as well?

He's only a child and Rukia didn't need to tell him her story. He wouldn't have to know. She wouldn't add to that sad memory. Though she felt bad for such a young child to experience the pain of death, when she herself barely recovered on her own familiarity of it.

"You, ojou-san, what about your family?"

Rukia stopped dead on her thoughts and stared at his bright amber, expecting eyes.

"I…"

Rukia can't give him a nice and brilliant response like what he expected.

"It is not of importance…it wasn't as interesting as yours."

"Please?"

Rukia's husband was removed from his office and died in an accident soon after, her son died of an illness a year ago. A lot of people on the court –who once regarded her as unwavering charm- thought she had become a bad luck.

"Well, I am married to a wonderful man; he currently works in the imperial castle as an official."

After her husband's demise, she and her son were moved to an isolated province where her son was inflicted with a respiratory sickness, only his breathing was severely affected and he died while Rukia held her young son's hand and cried endlessly for months.

"We have a son, he's in the same age as you, and he has black hair and looked so much like his father. But I have to leave him in the province. I cannot care for him here, I am needed for the Empress Consort, you see."

Rukia came back to the court only to hear that her father was stripped off his title because of his association to her husband and was deeply indebted. She learned this morning that her father was given a fatal food supposedly for the rodents by mistake that ultimately killed him not long after.

"My father is also an official like my husband. This morning; he was transported to another district as part of his promotion, they held a feast in honor of his arrival."

Due to her gained misfortunes, the Empress Consort thought of her presence as a bad luck and had given her only a week to leave the Imperial Castle.

"I have reinstated my role as a lady-in-waiting. I can never be this happier, I am much honored to serve the Empress Consort."

"Oh! You are very fortunate, ojou-san." The little boy looked significantly happier the more she furthered her lies. It won't hurt him; she chose not to tarnish his view on life.

"Yes." Rukia ignored the hurtful tug in her heart at the orange haired little boy's wide, sincere happy smile.

Half an hour later, like what she predicted: they made it to the castle. Rukia made it sure that the boy makes it to his bed unharmed. Like a mother, he tucked him in, waited for him to get sleepy and kissed his forehead.

"Goodbye…" Rukia heard him say, his eyes drooping. Rukia smiled at him one last time.

Ichigo forgot to ask her name.

…

That early morning, in the hour that was regarded to be the devil's, Rukia sat in her room and stared at the beautiful allure of a wakizashi.

…

Ichigo did not grow up to be the Emperor; he only became a crowned prince as he was assassinated in his sleep in the eve of his crowning. The heir had gotten his throat and ripped out while he slumbered.

…

III

…o0o…o0o…o0o…

It went to many cycles. Gliding and gliding. Missing and missing. Passing and passing.

It begun to feel -not see, it begun to feel a thin thread. Unexplainable as it has no logical capacity only awareness and immature sensation. And its awareness knew its other half is still lost, just as lost as it was.

This massive ocean of celestial explosion and silver pathways remained complex and unbounded by time. After cessation of its physical life, it went back to the mother –the vast expanse of everything and nothing at the same time.

This time, it wonders aimlessly and drifts to a new light.

…0…

In this life, Rukia could barely talk. She could barely move. She could barely see. She could even barely understand her surroundings. This life was too easy. Everything was given to her small body without asking for it. Her hands, they were so tiny, so small. It was always amazing to her how she could wrap her whole hand to her mother's pinky. She cannot stand, her short and stubbed limbs cannot support itself as of yet. Maybe, in time, she could crawl towards her mother and play with her more. She cannot talk; however, her smile alone can move them.

She knew her mother's face. She loved it when her mother smiled at her. It was pleasant. Rukia would reach out to her when she wanted to be cradled to sleep. But no matter how many times she called to her mother, she wasn't responding. She wailed, louder and louder until someone answered her.

She was an infant. Her beady amethyst eyes cannot fathom the dangers of her surroundings. Her little hands cannot maneuver on the slippery floor. Her limited perception, the immaturity of her sight prevented her from discerning everything clearly around her, no clear descriptions except her mother's face. She tried to crawl towards her mother, but her undeveloped legs won't let her get too far, she's too early to attempt this, she wasn't strong enough to do this. In a frustration she cannot hope to comprehend, she wailed harder. Harder until her mother move but she never did. The infant princess was left in the sea of her parents' blood.

…

Ichigo became a formidable samurai for this life, proudly sworn to protect a powerful clan. But one day, on a seemingly peaceful July, he became a ronin -or a samurai with no master.

His masters had died. Assassinated. The clan was wrongfully accused of converting to another religion and practicing its foreign religious ideas by another envious clan. He was their best man. He was away when the enemies attacked. He was foolish to leave his post and subsequently failed his duty as a primary protector. But even so, he raced back even after being informed that the castle had been badly destroyed. The only way now to redeem his honor is to follow the code of Bushido: he's honor bound to follow his master even in death. But due to the dishonorable way of how his enemies fought and killed his masters, he will only do it after their deaths. He will only cross the afterlife with their heads in tow.

That time when he saw the castle, he knew nobody survived. He felt unbelievable anger, he felt the lust to destroy, and most importantly, he felt the unbearable need to weep. He needed his revenge before he can earn the right to bow before his masters.

He thought of nothing but retribution until he saw a dead servant lying in the garden, sleeping peacefully in her chest, is the infant princess. 'How?'

The dead servant herself was badly stabbed by multiple blades. He tried to ease the servant in a more dignified manner. He took the sleeping child from her and stared at her familiar features. He knew the lady of the clan had given birth to an infant girl four months ago but it was a strictly kept secret between the highest ranking members of the clan. He never saw the infant and he never expected the child to survive.

The battle-scarred, fully-grown samurai cradled the sleeping infant securely in his arms, there was a tiny ribbon tied to her small wrist.

This lifetime, they met again. She was the small infant in his arms. He knew it. He stared at the black hair, the contours of her small sleeping face and marveled how tiny she had become. She was swatted in a rose colored small kimono and extra layers of blankets for protection from the cold. Her skin and bones felt excruciatingly familiar. He cursed the gods above for having such a lousy timing. He would have to watch her grow into a beautiful woman and have admirers while he reeled himself in old age. He didn't like the idea but he was still relieved to have met her even in this form: this time he could protect her directly. She won't die of hunger. She won't die of desolation. Maybe, they get to die together.

In an unbelievably short span of time, his anger morphed into something calm.

He could set aside his vengeance for now; he can't die, he still has his last master to protect.

…

Many years later, Rukia grew up and had come to know the story of her survival. She had a protector. He was a skilled samurai who served her father with the greatest loyalty. Her family was killed in an unprecedented attack. With no other means of survival, the samurai took her as an infant and journeyed away from the castle in an attempt to create a peaceful life for her.

The samurai that protected her was beheaded on the same day he had saved her.

No one saw. No one knew how. No one knew why. And no one knew what the circumstances are.

She still didn't know if it was a meaningful death.

If people knew what happened, they probably knew his name too. It was over twenty five years ago, most of the old folks had died and this place wasn't exactly inhabited by many. Unfortunately, no soul can retell the story of how exactly he died and who he was exactly.

Some speculate his death came in creeping like a snake and it struck him unexpectedly. It was confirmed that the samurai indeed belonged to Rukia's perished clan but the old man who pointed this out cannot identify who exactly because of the constant helmet covering the samurais' heads and faces.

Old sightings say that the samurai who wore a black kabuto with a mengu –a form of intricate helmet with face guard- and brandished a notable black katana mercifully spared an enemy from death because he didn't want to kill in the presence of a child. This ultimately caused his death: the spared man spun around, raised his katana and betrayed him. The soldier lopped off the samurai's head while his back was turned against him. Upon the discovery of her living body underneath his, they found out that the samurai was about to pick her up and cradle her when he had lost his head.

She never knew his name. At that time, his head was nowhere to be seen but the headless body that securely cradled her was garbed in all black and screamed of a once fierce Samurai. From the inner clothing to the duo and haidate, it was all in black. Its crushing weight covered her small body in full, shielded her from the heavy, torrential rain that followed his death. The crimson mixed with the water and Rukia, in her innocence, never knew how harsh the meaning behind the vibrant color. Some vocally remarked how truly fortunate she was that the heavy, full armor did not crush her small and fragile body. Some say that the spirit wanted to protect her even in death.

The day of his memorial came. This nameless samurai never had another visitor other than her. Not even the old man who helped her when he found her secured by the headless samurai body knew him. Curious thing, indeed. She never cried the whole time she was beneath his decapitated body.

The old man said that when he finished the gravestone for the samurai, he left it blank for later inscription. He also left the black katana pierced deeply in front of his gravestone monument, in a hope that someday, someone would be able to shed light to this nameless samurai.

Twenty five years and not one inquired about him. A missing man, a missing samurai. His family never came to look, no one asked about the man. But still, Rukia patiently waited for someone.

Over the course of years, she happily lived in this small village and will continue to live her life this way. She knew of her noble roots but relinquished it in honor of the samurai who wanted to create a peaceful life for her, away from the dangerous politics.

Today is his memorial. Rukia prepared all her necessities before she trekked her way up at the hill. She would spend the whole day with him; tell him about her past year, her friends and her upcoming marriage to the village's talented artisan. She would continue to pray for him as long as she can.

She also told him that he already have a special place on her heart.

She poured water on the nameless gravestone and placed the freshly picked Bluebell flowers on his stone monument. She took out the incense and arranged it carefully. She uttered a small prayer for him.

'Thank you.'

She was happy in this lifetime.

…

…o0o…o0o…o0o…

It could finally see. But barely. Only shadows and silhouettes. It looked around itself. The exploding hues of cosmos around it, waving, vibrating and trembling. The mother, the nothing and everything, is in turmoil.

It looked down and could barely see the figure in its grasp.

It saw the fine, very miniscule outline of a thread.

The thread in its grasp led to a pathway, but unlike other life pathway, this light is dim and quivering. Nevertheless, it followed the light with a new hope.

…0…

They sounded the alarm hours ago. They executed a systemic evacuation but a lot of people remained downtown. Captain Ichigo of the Imperial Government rushed towards the city and downright ignored the hazard signs. This was a bad time and probably the worst of his lives so far. They were in the middle of an impending airstrike and the leaflets dropped five days ago proved to be true. Since the time he enlisted in the military, he knew normal death will never be a choice for him. He was in charge of evacuating the civilians from downtown. As a captain, he ordered his men to evacuate everyone, do it by force, if necessary. The forces remained, but fewer in numbers.

Ichigo drove around in his mini truck. This place was civilian area and most of the people retreated but he knew more are still hiding in their homes, reluctant to leave their properties. They sounded a particularly different alarm an hour ago, the sound meant absolute danger. Why they won't leave, he never knew the reason but he had to save someone somehow before the airstrike begin.

The early morning was as hazy as usual and the streets were mostly filled with obnoxious smoke from the industrial factories. It was eight am and the sun, in this particular day, didn't really greet them. Surprisingly, the morning weather was rather chilly; he supposed it's because of the aftereffects of an intense rain that woke them up. He was somehow used to operating in depressive areas and this was no exception. He found no disturbance in the silence of the town.

He stopped his truck when he came across an alight surgical clinic with the imperial flag on it. He walked around and wondered why this wasn't given priority for evacuation. This surgical clinic wasn't chaotic, it was silent. From its dirty window, he could see the faint glow of a singular bulb hanging in tangled wires.

He turned the broken knob and stepped inside. The smell of blood and peroxide assaulted his nose. The inside was as worn as the outside. Perhaps, the continuously heavy burden this clinic held took its toll. He looked around: this surgical clinic was a place of no hope. The patients here were all missing limbs or severely burnt. Some have stabbed wounds that are too deep to be relieved by superficial haemostatic. Nobody seemed to have the capacity to ambulate. At least a dozen of them sprawled on different corners of the cramped clinic. But none of them seemed panicky at the thought of imminent danger.

"Do you need assistance with anything?" A nurse spoke quietly behind him. She was holding a basin filled with watery blood and a dirty cloth hung over its edge. She has large eyes; he figured amethyst when the faint glow of the fading bulb hit her. She was small with a bloody nurse uniform, her hair disheveled.

She was the only medical personnel present and from what he could see, she was trying her best to man this clinic.

She appraised him up and down. Her eyes lingered on his dark green military uniform, and searched for his name: Ichigo.

Rukia looked up at him. He didn't miss the flash of sadness in her eyes.

Why now?

They already lived a hundred lives and they rarely get to meet in one. And the times that they do, it was so disjointed that they never really end up together. Memories would come in. From time to time, they would recognize each other. The stronger the recognition when they are near separation. Like fate mocking them endlessly. Sometimes they would just pass up each other in the streets with him as a homeless old man and she, a kid in an errand for her starving family. Sometimes the roles are reversed. Or they never meet at all.

Most of the time, the simplest of circumstances can separate them.

He was right, this is his worst lifetime. Probably the same for her. I'm so sorry.

Ichigo stood there, motionless, he was thinking the same. It was clear this time. No more of blurry memories, pieces of her face from different times. Old, young or sickly pale. This Rukia was a beautiful woman. And he's standing right in front of her. He supposed he should do something before their Fates do something else.

The people around them were all dying. Clearly, they accepted their fate. Some struggled yes, they knew it's going to happen.

It was selfish, the way he looked into her eyes, and silently asked her to come away with him.

She shook her head.

Why won't she leave with him? They could still make it.

She smiled at him. It was surrender.

Why?

This lifetime for them could work out. It was the best condition they ever had. Same age, both alive.

'It's late.' She mouthed.

The alarm sounded again and she immediately knelt beside a man who, at the same time, started panicking. He clung to a small faded picture of his family like how a Catholic clung to his rosary in the desperate moment before his impending death. Both of his legs were gone and Rukia soothed him like a mother. There were tears in her eyes, sad smile on her lips as she stoke his hair and calm his raging fear of death as much as possible. The others knew what was coming and they patiently waited, hopeless and resigned.

He could see the planes over the window. The leaflets described it exactly like this. The craft was small from such a distance but he knew what they carry will claim many, many lives.

He looked back at Rukia. Yes, it's late. And even if he arrived earlier, Rukia will never leave the patients behind.

In this last moment of peace, he made his way to her, knelt beside her. She looked up at him again, her eyes brimming. They were never this close during their previous lives. A day ago, a little kid gave him a beaded red bracelet as a thank you when he carried her to safety. He took out the bracelet and transferred it to Rukia's blood soaked right wrist and he intertwined their fingers.

He won't let go. He won't let go of this nurse's hand. He decided to stay with her and let fate win again. He won't run. What good will it do? He'll just miss his chance to die with her. And he missed a lot of his chances already, this one is precious. Death will come now any second. He smiled at her, a very rare one of his own. She wasn't scared and he knew she was thinking about the same thing.

Fifteen minutes with his soulmate compared to the lengthy and disjointed lives they had in the past wasn't so bad. He got to hold her hand this time.

He glanced at the tiny, white clock: forty seconds after eight fifteen.

But still, it was fleeting. This chance was goddamn fleeting. They finally meet at a time when they could finally be together but then…

It was really a bad time to be here in Hiroshima today, August 6, 1945.

The bomb detonated midair. His hand tight on her, she squeezed his in return. He saw the flash. He hoped to get to know more of her in their subsequent lives. Her face faded. Please, just a little more time with her in his upcoming lives. He was gone.

…

…o0o…o0o…o0o…

It has its recognition, awareness and sensation but it is tired. The perception of time means nothing but it felt weary, distraught and hopeless.

It lost the thread in its grasp.

It could see much clearer now. The mother is back to its passive state. The cosmos glows with its familiar light and complexity. The time felt normal again.

It drifts slowly to another pathway, miserable.

…0…

This lifetime was the most satisfactory and peaceful he ever had.

He was born again in the next lifetime, this time; he was far away from the harsh and cruel methods of his past lives. In this lifetime, Ichigo already achieved the textbook definition of success: Forty years old with a rewarding job as a premier physician and a loving family. He has a seventeen year old, attractive daughter, thirteen-year old twin boys and he's married to a lovely woman for eighteen years.

Ichigo grew up in a happy -albeit weird- family. He went to school and graduated college with high honors. He earned an internship and became a resident physician. His seniors praised his talent and eventually, he became a renowned physician. It was a pretty regular life and he couldn't be happier. Ichigo found peace in treating patients; he felt an incredible sense of fulfillment every time he saved a patient from dying. He wanted to do this for the rest of his life.

His life was simple and he was very contented with it.

Ichigo cannot wish for more.

…

Rukia cannot wish for more.

Her life was normal and she never felt this satisfied before.

Rukia lived her life in an orphanage. She never knew her family. She always thought that she will grow up in the orphanage, apply for scholarship, eventually graduate and land an office job. Then she'll become a manager and finally get married, have kids, grow old and then die. It was horrendously boring and normal but she'll welcome it more than anything in the world.

In her new life, she was born far from danger. She was engaged and married to a man that was her best friend and co-worker. He worked his way up alongside her. After many years of close friendship, he finally proposed to her. She said yes, it will make him happy. They had a great time together, he was goofy and she observed considerable patience for his somewhat childish attitude. However, it's their eighteenth year and they still don't have a child. She learned that she was a barren woman, it was the single obstacle in her dream of a normal life. She thought he'll take the news negatively but he remained very supportive and still loved her. She was happy to have met him.

This lifetime was the most satisfactory and normal she ever had.

…

It was almost evening and Rukia patiently waited for her husband to pick her up. The weather report didn't say anything about heavy clouds with hammering rain and erratic lightning in the city. An hour after the rain started, she found herself soaked and retreated to a nearby roofed bench built in the sidewalk opposite to the hospital entrance.

Ichigo harbored a secret vendetta against the hospital cafeteria. So whenever he can, he'll sneak outside and buy his own food in the string of colorful shops just to avoid the awful taste bud of the head chef. It's the stereotypical Hospital Food shit. He supposed he should hurry up, he only had 20 minutes for break: he's scheduled to operate on a patient with a deep abdominal stabbed wound.

Rukia remained calm whilst waiting for the familiar car to finally stop in front of her. There's no time for her to cook dinner, maybe she'll just ask him if it's fine to eat outside. Oh, she was so sure her husband didn't like her mochi that much, he just pretended to, he probably didn't want to make her sad. Not that she would easily get sad over petty things.

Ichigo got out of the Doctors' Lounge and brought with him a large red umbrella, he never trusted the weather report. On his way, patients greeted him, he smiled back. Though he frowned a lot, apparently, a lot of kids enjoy his scowling mug that he got a request to be a surgeon in Pediatrics. His wife teased him for it, she said he really has it for kids. Yeah maybe, he would probably agree to it if only his division can handle the amount of people lining up in the operating room. Seriously, why do they have to be in a lot of accidents?

Rukia fiddled with the hem of her red polka dot dress, he was slightly late. It is the traffic? Probably. From afar, she could see the building of red taillights amidst the heavy rain. Looked like she needed to wait a little longer.

Ichigo waited for the elevator. Damn it, it's rush hour and all of those from the hospital office with off-shift probably clogged the elevator box by now. He decided to take the staircase; it's only five flights anyway.

Rukia got tired of standing, so she sat in the slightly damp bench seat. There was no sign of weakening in the rain. The lightning remained strong and random as well.

Ichigo thought he should buy something for his wife and kids. His kids...ah damn, their teenagers now. He doubted if they would like something specific, their tastes are so damn unpredictable and erratic and weird. His wife would probably like something sweet. Chocolates, maybe. He could hear the thundering raindrops as he approach the last landing. Good thing the weatherman was an idiot and he wasn't.

Would she get struck by lightning and roast to death? Really, this is becoming dangerous. Where was he? Is he fine? Rukia impatiently looked back and forth the highway, the rain clouded her view. She hoped that nothing happened to her husband.

Ichigo exited the hospital and cursed the zero visibility of the heavy rain. How on earth could he possibly see in this condition? He can't wait, he still have his patient in the OR upstairs. So he decided to just run like hell to the opposite sidewalk. But before he could break into a sprint, in the corner of his eyes, he noticed a woman who seemed anxious.

Rukia clutched her shoulder bag tightly. This was not ideal but she needed to be calm. Breathe. Breathe. In the eighteen years of their marriage, it wasn't the first time that he was late. Perhaps, she should mentally prepare her angry argument. She was thinking of the first point when the clutches of her shoulder bag suddenly broke and spilled the contents of her bag. Rukia eased herself down and begun to pick the contents.

Ichigo approached the anxious woman and learned that she needed to cross the sidewalk to ride a bus home. She showed him her house key and told him her kids are probably still outside their home and waiting for her. Ichigo looked at how big his red umbrella was and thought he could share it to her. The only problem was the rain itself.

Rukia finished collecting all her stuff and stood straight. The rain was still heavy but at least she could make an outline of various objects around her like that large red umbrella near the hospital entrance and the various bushes in the front garden of the hospital. After a few more minutes, the rain started weakening and visibility was slowly returning to normal. That's when she saw an outline of a familiar gray car heading towards her and she started walking to meet its driver, smiling.

Ichigo decided it's perfectly safe to walk with the woman now that the rain turned to harmless drizzles. He looked at her and she smiled back. He walked her carefully to the opposite sidewalk and escorted her towards the bus station. He watched the bus go, followed by a gray car before he turned his back and proceeded to walk towards the food place. He really needed to get back in time for the stabbed wound surgery and that rain was really something.

…

Hospital Room 505.

December 2, 2006, 1:14 am

Twenty years later and Rukia found herself in bed for acute bouts of chest pain. She was under observation for suspected Myocardial Infarction -or simply Heart Attack.

Her last consultation said that it was just StableAngina not Heart Attack, so her previous physician happily said no need to be that extremely, extremelyworried, just take the medicine. But her recent chest pain might be indicative of another and she hated it. The sublingual nitroglycerine medicine stayed untouched in her bedside table. She doesn't want to take it anymore. It's just a useless piece of candy now. And anyway, her pain perception already declined along with her age. Why she experienced so much pain escaped her knowledge.

Ridiculous. How could she have acquired such a disease? She engaged in healthy living her whole life. She wasn't stressed out, she never joined any activities that was too strenuous for her. She does exercise, and eat healthy. She wasn't that susceptible to this, so why? She had a normal and easy-going life.

''It's the genes.'' Her physician said.

She doesn't want to die just yet.

She recently acquired her senior discount card. She wanted to enjoy it and laugh at the young when they see how free from monetary constriction her life at sixty, get to sit comfortably at the priority seats at the local train. Eat free meals. Enjoy her benefits and get public assistance everywhere. The young kids would probably laugh at her for trying to have fun but who cares. Even with this wrinkled skin and weak bones, she wanted to do fun things

She wanted to enjoy.

She doesn't want to die. Her husband died a year ago. She lost him to cancer. No one was here in this room with her. She had no one to talk to. She could call a nurse but she doesn't want to disturb someone, not when all of them are probably busy taking care of other people.

Satisfaction is different from happiness. To be completely honest with herself, she was never happy in this life.

Rukia died from an unexplainable massive heart attack during the early hours of that December day.

Rukia had a painful death.

...

Hospital Room 506.

December 2, 2006, 7:15 am

Twenty years later and old age was already taking its toll on him. It's ironic how this bed, where he treated a lot of his patients, became his own sickbed.

He became the grumpy old man that pushed his visitors and nurses away. Get off my lawn! Hospital version.

Even at sixty, he would snicker at his younger physician's pathetic diagnosis. He could do better than them even with the Arthritis that made his knee joints so painful, the effects of glaucoma that hindered his sight gravely. Or the chronic back pain that almost prevented his movements.

He sure as hell doesn't have Congestive Heart Failure.

He's a doctor, he can tell what is wrong and what is not with himself. For one, there's no difficulty in his breathing. It's fine; he could run a mile and not feel anything. These wheezes are nothing and merely coincidental. This increase in his sleeping hours is normal; he liked to rest a lot. The swelling in his neck vein? That's because he always had large vessels. Such bullshit, as some kids would say it these days. He's not demented or losing valid reasoning and he's not in the Denial Stage either. It's too early to die at sixty.

And he's won't, he happened to see his progress notes yesterday, his condition showed improvement.

But even so, in the silence of the room, he suddenly lapsed into this particular kind of thinking that he hated very much: old men tend to think about their accomplishments. He remembered the man from his minor classes decades ago, what the hell was his name...Whatever, Ichigo forgot it already. But he never forgot his lessons: is this the Self-Actualization that he theorized about?

His wife died a year ago. He lost her to cancer. His kids became utterly successful with their chosen professions. He liked to think he did a good job and made everyone happy. He cherished his wife. He loved his kids. He led a peaceful life. But he also knew, at the back of his mind, the part that knew his truest feeling, that this lifetime severely lacked color.

It's five am, his grand kids will be arriving later to visit him like a common, dying old man. He better rest. He wouldn't his grandkids to see a scowling old man.

Ichigo died in his sleep. The machine beside his bed showed Asystole: his heart suddenly stopped beating.

Ichigo had a painless death.

…

…o0o…o0o…o0o…

Once again -upon the many times it happened, it -the recognition, awareness and sensation- was thrown back to the abyss of everything and nothing.

When it left for another life, the celestial sea was at peace, when it got back, tit was still at peace. The currents are slow, engrossed in its facsimile. the stardust are shining, twisting the expanse in a beautiful maze of mashed color, bright and enticing.

Throughout its time, it never found its other half.

It remembered its past lives. The blunder it committed in its first given life, how it mocked fate and how fate had mocked it over and over. It felt every kind of death possible, the peaceful and the painful, never with the other half it rejected in its first life.

The fate made it remember its past lives, because Fate had enough: it finally knew what it felt.

He finally knew what it really felt.

The thread was back in its grasp and it could clearly see its pathway. It is not like the other normal pathways. It is the brightest among the silver network of cosmos pathways. The thread is glowing and quivering with excitement.

Its time as a lost entity is done.

…0…

Kurosaki Ichigo. Fifteen. High-school student.

He can see ghosts.

Karakura night was silent as usual. Except for these wannabe thugs that dared knock this little ghost's flower vase.

"What." Ichigo's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "I asked again, what could that vase be?" He jerked his thumb on the fallen vase near the junction wall.

"An… an offering to a kid who died recently…?"

"Great answer!" And Ichigo high-kicked the bonnet-wearing wannabe thug.

"Then why is the vase knocked over?" He deadpanned.

"Because we…we…are…umm skate boarding?"

Ichigo sneered. He can breeze through them in under five minutes.

"Oh yeah?"

…

Kuchiki Rukia successfully crossed the boundary that separate human life and afterlife.

The Human World was a much talked about place. Overtly eccentric and filled with weird contraptions humans cannot seem to live without. None of the human establishments resembled the ones on her new home, Soul Society.

She might have had her lives as a human so many times before and roamed its roads like a normal person but she remembered none of it.

She landed softly on the top of a pole -an electrical pole, another human contraption. She immediately detected the presence of a nearby hollow, its scent reeking of malevolence and hatred.

She jumped off the pole and begun her search.

'It's near.'

…o0O0o…

The End

Author's Note

Hory shet, I'm sleepy as fuck.

Earlier, I stared at my laptop and shit happened. Think I messed up the time line and transitions. As usual, I am disjointed.

-i wasn't going to add this but because someone insisted i should-

ETA: Yayoi, Heian, Tokugawa, WWII and 80's. Yup, no Meiji.

ETA: Okay, thank you Weewa for the correction.

Thanks for reading!

…

Love me or Hate me?

Dissonencia.