Title: Brought Back to Life
Warnings: I do NOT own the BLEACH series or any of its characters. Their involvement in this story is purely for my own enjoyment and has not resulted in any compensation for the author. The character Niniana is of my own creation and her involvement in this plot with these characters in of my own conception, as well.
This story has been rated M for a reason! And while those reasons are not evident in this chapter, or probably the next few chapters, my good judgement will make itself clear... eventually. You have been warned!
Chapter One: A Long time Ago...
A solitary ray of silvery light was cast down from the blackened heavens and everyone on the scorched earth below could only stand and watch in amazement as the delicate figure began to descend. Ukitake felt, more than heard, the rasping sob that came from his ever-stoic master and mentor. He turned, just in time, to watch as Yamamoto ran the back of one of his gnarled hands across his face to wipe away the sudden onset of moisture.
Turning his face skywards once more, Ukitake waited with baited breath, as the Lady continued to sink to the earth. Her face was obscured by the constant up swells of her silvery hair. It seemed as if she were floating down through invisible currents of sluggish water than the brackish and soot-filled air.
Her robes continued to billow about her, though, now, their movements were less frenzied and more tranquil. They whirled around her in fantastic spirals of blue and silver, their dance a stark contrast to the sudden stillness of her limbs.
Jyuushiro and Shunsui both started forward, automatically, as she neared the ground, but Yamamoto's hands shot out to either side, slamming into both their chests and effectively halting their movements. They both turned to their Sensei with confusion and concern evident in their eyes.
"But, Genryuusai-sama," they chorused, their eyes moving frantically from their Sensei to the still-slowly-descending savior. He silenced them with a single, raised hand and gestured for them to follow him. His first halting steps toward the base of the spire of light were watched by the rest of the assembled Shinigami in silence. Only his closest and most beloved students, Jyuushiro and Shunsui, dared to follow him.
At its base, the spire reached an astounding twenty or thirty meters in diameter and the three men halted to wait at its circumference. The column of light began to shrink inwards as she neared the ground and it brought the Shinigami Captains with it.
Shunsui made a small movement, as if considering crossing beyond the force field to rush to his comrade's side, but Yamamoto stilled him with a severe look. Without a word, Yamamoto bent and collected a single handful of dirt. Pausing to look meaningfully at his pupils, he tossed the soil into the barrier. Both students gasped as the soil fizzled and hissed and fell back to earth, just outside the protective wall of light, bright red and glowing hot.
"It is not light…" Genryuusai-sama said, in a hushed and sorrowful voice, "but, rather, pure energy."
His demonstration complete, Yamamoto turned back to face his own Sensei and continued as if he had forgotten that Shunsui and Jyuushiro were there at all, "It is but an infinitesimally small portion of the energy she expelled to save us all… returning to her now… in the hopes that she might be able to save herself…"
Shunsui turned to glance at his friend, to find that Jyuushiro had turned to him in disbelief, as well. Taking in the expression on Ukitake's face, Shunsui realized that his mouth was also hanging open. His tongue slipped between closing lips to moisten their parched lushness. Swallowing dryly, he turned back to the wilted form of the one trapped within the confines of her own swirling energies.
Her feet were the first to touch the earth. Just her bare toes kissed the surface and caused delicate swirls of dust to awaken and dance in the watery light. As her feet connected more firmly with the earth, her legs seemed to buckle and bend at the knees.
Her hands followed shortly after her feet, the delicate tips of her fingers causing similar eddies in the dirt. Her arms were drawn and stretched behind her arched back.
Her hair finally quieted its chaotic movements and lightly brushed the ground, coiling beneath her head, which lolled sickeningly from side-to-side. Her glorious face was directed away from them and they were, simultaneously, immeasurably disappointed and relieved.
As the light continued inward, her torso finally drifted down, slowly pushing one limp hand out to the side. As she came in full contact with the earth, it was as if all of nature gave an immense sigh of relief and the invisible tension in the air was suddenly lessened.
The progression of the light seemed to quicken. Only the pendant, which had drawn her into the air in the first place, remained floating… though, now, its radiance was greatly diminished. The light energy was nearly entirely absorbed, now, steadily flowing over her face and up her abdomen.
It hovered over the pendant, waning as a tiny, withering thread before erupting into a single, brilliant flash of light and vanishing. In the absence of the energy, the pendant was extinguished and fell, with a small tinkling sound, to lay on her painfully motionless chest.
Shunsui and Jyuushiro stood... frozen.
They stood... waiting. Waiting for her to stir, rise up on steady limbs, and smile reassuringly at them.
They stood... disappointed.
Only Genryuusai knew that there would be no stirring from the limp figure on the ground. Only he could bring himself to draw nearer. Crouching down, by her side, he reached out a hesitant hand to cup the pointed chin.
Cold.
She was cold to the touch... shockingly so.
Yamamoto steadied his slightly trembling hand with a deep breath and turned her face skywards. In doing so, he stirred the silky strands of her hair, and the resulting rustling effectively hid the small gasp that escaped him.
Her once-rosebud-pink lips were pale and nearly washed-out against the grayish hue of her skin. Her cheeks, once flushed with vitality, were now sallow and drawn.
But, most shocking, were her eyes. Orbs that once sparkled and could captivate with a single glance, were now dull and their stare, vacant.
Drawing his fingertips overr her lids in the lightest of brushes, he stared, horrified, as those beautiful eyes closed with an unspeakable finality...
Closing his own eyes against the depravity of it all, Yamamoto wallowed in his despair. Falling back, he screamed his anguish to the heavens...
********************
Yamamoto awoke with a start. Utterly confused and heartbroken, he could only stare at his trembling hands in shock.
Centuries... It had been centuries since he had last dreamt of... of her.
Shaking fingertips warily came up to brush at his wrinkled cheeks, and he was surprised to find them wet.
Throwing back the covers of his futon, he braced himself against the cool night air and gingerly swung his legs over the edge of his mattress to clamber out of bed. He crossed his sparsely-decorated quarters and passed under numerous empty arches to enter his forlorn-looking study.
Sliding in, behind his desk, he drew in a deep, calming breath before continuing.
It was only a dream... It was only a dream...
Just as he had centuries before, as well as after every other dream of his Sensei, he spun around, key in hand, to face the wall of scrolls behind his desk. His eyes and feet immediately brought him before the only locked cubicle among them.
Hesitantly, he slid the key into the locked and twisted.
His last reassuring thought before sliding the small door open?
That was a long time ago...