The Glass Bead Game
By
SMYGO4EVA
The rooted distortions and facades see all.
Tōshirō loved the snow, but he yearned for the sunlight in his sleep. In his nightmares, crimson would spill from precious veins of the Soul Reapers, therefore making him the most vulnerable if one close to him had perished. Countless scars all over him, tears flowing from his eyes and shattering onto the pearl snow, crimson rivers coloring the beautiful white snow, and that would be when he would wake up. White was the only shade he wanted to see of snow, and that was the truth for him.
Rangiku loved the sunrise, as it was the start of a new day, a day filled with possibilities and promises. The sunrises were the most beautiful, as lovely as the sunsets upon the Soul Society. But at the same time, she hated sunrises and sunsets, beginnings and endings, as if all lives have to end, affections has to be short-lived and trust has to be broken. She watched them still, wondering if the remnants of pain and anger would ever go away, along the blazing colors that paint the sky.
Ambiguity in fear and anger are only distortions, as they can see the plain truth for all of us. The memories of bloodshed would always be there; even the waters of the Lethe couldn't their minds of past and forthcoming tragedy. Humans and Soul Reapers are like glass figures; they break easily and can be manipulated into anything a creator models them to do.
No matter how much it hurt them to gaze upon glass, snow or the sun's cycle, Tōshirō and Rangiku knew that they would never forget the past. The surprises of the future would be eminent, as told by the glass bead game they unknowingly play.