Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach in any way, shape or form. The only thing that I own is the plot of this very fanfiction.

A/N: Hello, readers! This is my very first fanfiction, and I hope that you enjoy it. If you don't, then I'm sorry for wasting your time. Please leave some constructive criticism! Thank you.

They say that after you die, depending on your life among the living, you will go to one of two places. There is Heaven, the Great Reward. Forever happy, forever in peace. Together with your loved ones, never to feel pain again.

Then there is Hell, the Eternal Punishment. If you have committed truly evil crimes while still alive, you are sent to a place too horrific to put into words. They say you will feel physical pain unlike anything you could ever feel, and the wounds only grew deeper. They say you will relive every horrible memory you have ever had, and that you will be forced to meet your worst fears.

They say that after you die, depending on your life among the living, you will go to one of two places.

HA!

Whoever said that obviously had no idea what they were talking about. There are three places that you can go to when you die, and some say that the third place is the worst. I've never been to Hell, so I wouldn't know. But after my experiences, yes, I believe that Soul Society, the Second Life, is the worst out of all three.

My name is Matsumoto Rangiku, and I will tell you why I believe that the Second Life is the worst yet.

I don't remember much about my childhood when I was alive. I died as a child, and I only remember a few memories. One was of my mother. She was pretty, and full of warmth. And she smiled often. When I saw that smile, I felt like I was sinking into a warm bath after a cold day. How I loved her smiles.

She had guided me throughout my life, and had told me that death, although sad, was still nothing to fear. She told me that death was like life, although much better. She said it was a place where everyone was happy.

In other words, she was describing Heaven. She did not believe in Hell.

She didn't even know that she was telling me a downright lie.

My mother died in front of me. She told me that she wasn't scared. She told me that she was going to a greater place, and that she'd wait for me one day. That she'd be at the golden gates of paradise, arms wide open. She told me that we'd be together.

Then, she died with a smile on her face. I loved her smile. She died telling me that one day, we'd both be blissful and with each other.

And I believed her.

Afterwards, I could only remember a blur of events; like throwing water at an oil painting. It mixed together into a formless shape that had no meaning to me. The next thing I remembered was my death. I didn't know what happened; I still don't. I just remember feeling impatient. Yes, I was sad. I could taste my tears. Yes, I didn't want to die, and I knew it was happening.

But I also was impatient to meet my mother. I could almost see her now. She was wearing robes of white, smiling with her warm arms wide open.

Oh, how I loved that smile.

She would take me to a home similar to the one we had when she was still alive, only bigger and much grander. She'd take me to a warm bed and tuck me in, like she did only months before. The last thing I'd see before I sank into the warm covers would be that smile I so adored. Yes, her warm, loving smile.

It would've been so sweet if that were true. Or would it have been?

You must remember that I was only a child. I truly believed in my fleeting fantasy of meeting my mother again. To this day I wonder how I could have possibly thought that was going to happen.

And then, I died.

In my days in the living, I didn't live in what you would call a five star hotel, but I was still completely unprepared for what would happen the moment I died. I opened my eyes slowly, expecting a beautiful area with other kids my age frolicking about. I expected to wake up on my mother's lap, with her arms around me. I expected to see the smile on her face that told me,

"I love you, no matter what. You are my daughter, and I will forever protect you."

But no, that was not what happened.

I woke up in the middle of a dirty, beaten down street, covered in dirt, which I soon learned was called Rukongai. I saw kids my age stealing and fighting. I was not warm. In fact, I was freezing, and I was surrounded by scowling faces that I couldn't make out yet.

Someone grabbed my arm and yanked me up. I was still dazed. Was it because of my transfer from life to death, or was it shock?

The next thing I knew, I was a servant for a shopkeeper in one of the lowest districts in Rukongai. I learned everything about Soul Society the hard way; by listening in on conversations while sweeping the floors, asking kids that sometimes came by, usually to steal something, and getting punished for my "stupidity" until I learned.

I wonder when I was more miserable, working for that pompous woman, or when I faced the events that would happen years later?

It's a close tie.

I'd never been hit before, and the first time it happened, it was unforgettable. I had never seen blood in such copious amounts before. I had to clean it up later that day. Do you know why I was beaten?

I asked about my mother. The Woman, as I called her in my head, had told me that she was probably either in one of the dozens of districts in Rukongai, or otherwise in Hell. I asked her what Hell was.

She showed me.

When she had her fun, she smiled at me. It was not warm or comforting. It was malicious, and showed me that she didn't think that I was anything more than furniture; nothing more than a toy.

That night, I had another experience that I had never had before in my entire lifetime. I felt hatred. Not just at a single person, although it did have a major factor, but at everything in general.

First, I hated the place. The shop where I was forced to work. The district of Rukongai that I resided. Soul Society in general. Where was the paradise I was promised?

Then I felt hatred for the Woman. How dare she treat me this way? Aren't I the one who keeps this horrible excuse for a shop in business? Aren't I the one who gives her medicine when she needs it? How does she know that I won't escape and leave her and her store to disappear?

Of course, deep inside, I knew why. I was scared. I was not human; I was a spirit. I didn't know much about it, since people generally didn't seem to enjoy discussing it, but some spirits had a special energy inside them.

They could use it to fight. They could use it to heal. They could use it to either destroy or to build. The people with the energy were respected.

Although she didn't, as I later found out, I was scared that the Woman had that energy.

I did not want to die and end up in an even worse place.

Finally, I hated my mother. I hated that she lied, I hated that she wasn't here, and I hated how I couldn't be angry at her. Because I knew that she didn't know. And I believed her anyway.

I worked for the Woman for three years. Three, grueling, torturous years. Then my life flipped around completely. And when I looked back at it years later, I wasn't sure if it was good or if I would have been happier it never happened.

But I know better now.

The Woman had sent me on an errand of billing a group of drunkards a few streets away and had told me to expect another beating unless I got either the money or all the sake with me.

She did this often, knowing I'd get beaten by the drunkards and have no choice but to go back empty handed.

This was the first time I had walked in on them while they were drunk. This was the first time I'd come so close to one of the people with the energy. A shinigami, they called it. I wasn't used to feeling spiritual energy caving down on me. I passed out just as the shinigami took out his sword and smiled at me. A smile as cruel as the one that belonged to the Woman.

A smile completely unlike the one I had learned to both love and hate – the smile that belonged to my mother.

When I awoke, I was in the middle of a desert. I felt as if my stomach was missing, I was so hungry. I could see the doors to Rukongai, and it was far away. Very far.

I was hungry, thirsty, and bleeding from scars that weren't there before.

It was worse because I was a spirit. I couldn't die unless someone killed me. I was about half a mile away from the enormous doors when I collapsed.

I was hungry and thirsty. I was wishing I could die. I was wishing someone would come along and kill me. My head felt dizzy, and by now I knew I was on the verge of passing out once more.

I remember thinking,

"I understand now. There is no Hell or Soul Society. They are one and the same."

The next thing I remember thinking is,

"What's that?"

You see, before I passed out, in the distance, I had seen a glint of silver. The sun had hit it in a strange angle, making it look like I was looking at a star.

My breathing was heavy. I already had enough dirt in my mouth to fertilize a garden, who cared if I inhaled more dust? My sweat caused more dirt to stick to my body, and my lips were cracking and bleeding. The dust was getting in my eyes, but I kept struggling to stay awake, although I was losing the fight.

The silver in the distance… what was it? Finally, my eyelids felt too heavy to keep open. Even as I was losing conscience, I could see it. A gleam of silver. Like a coin you'd find on a ground. Like the very first star you see in the night sky. It was burning through my mind. The silver was like hope. Such a feeling it was.

Can you imagine it? A ten year old going suicidal, and in the middle of a desert. The sun hits something so that it shines brightly. It could be a mirage for all she knows, but she feels hope breaking through the darkness.

Funny, isn't it? The first time I met you, I felt hope. Others when meeting you feel it draining away.

You're not annoyed at me or anything, are you? Because it would be like you to be a bit embarrassed about being mistaken for a star, Gin.

To be continued…

A/N: Okay, that's the first chapter… review please!