Lament
Prologue
Disclaimer: I do not own nor profit from any of the ideas, characters, names, etc that I have used from Bleach.
A/N: First fic in this fandom. Just thought I'd play with an idea I had. This is a short chapter, an introduction of sorts. The next will be longer. As always, reviews are very welcome. ;)
The sky swirled a tumultuous river of greys and blacks above them. A flash of deep blue occasionally broke through the darkness, snaking its way to the ground and finishing its rapid descent with a bellowing crash. The once fertile landscape now bore numerous scars. Trees and plants, grass and flowers; they had all withered and died, scorched beyond recognition, leaving behind a pallid, colourless scene. It sapped hope from those left to witness it. It served its purpose well.
From within the broken shell of a now disused railway building, a man peered out at the desolation. He would have appeared strong and fit if not for the sunken cheeks and dark circles around his glazed eyes. It was not an uncommon appearance in recent weeks.
He took a tentative step onto the charred earth, leaving uneven concrete behind. He brought a battered hand up to his brow as another streak of blue flashed across the sky, meeting the ground somewhere out of sight, nearby. He stayed like that for a moment, holding his breath, before finally exhaling and running the now shaky hand through his matted hair. Grime covered the short strands, but it could not hide the distinct orange colour.
Taking a long, steadying breath, he began walking. The ground sloped gently downwards, flattening at a ridge ahead of him. He slowed as he neared it, fearful of what he would see past it. Swallowing forcefully, he took the last few steps to the edge of the ridge and looked down.
The remains of a town stretched out below. The man stood watching it in silence, his jaw clenched. He remembered that same town with its busy roads and bustling pavements, the way it would light up at night, and even the comforting routine supplied by mundane school life. That was all gone. His home was gone.
His eyebrows furrowed together, the haunted look disappearing from his face. He had been away from Karakura for too long. When the town had needed him the most, he hadn't been there. He had failed. The guilt tore at him as if it were a physical force.
He shook his head roughly. He had to make this right somehow.
No. There was no doing that. He couldn't turn back what had happened. His brown eyes narrowed. He would make him pay.
His resolve hardened, Ichigo Kurosaki took his first steps towards his home, or what was left of it.
A slow smile spread across Kisuke Urahara's pale face. He had been waiting for this moment. It had come sooner than he had expected. His planning was usually exact. Precise. That boy – no, that man – had always exceeded expectations. The smile widened as he leaned back, resting against a wooden plank propped against a wall – a makeshift seat to watch the unfolding events.
From his rooftop perch, he could see the lean form of Ichigo Kurosaki winding his way through the deserted streets, heading alongside the railway tracks towards what was once his home. The building that once served as a medical clinic had half-collapsed under its own weight. Urahara's smile wavered slightly. His own shop hadn't fared much better.
When the devastation had come, the human populace had scattered. Those who had survived had left, for the most part, heading towards greater Tokyo or out into the country. Urahara wondered why people would always think they'd be safer elsewhere. The destruction had not been limited to Karakura and it was, as unlikely as it seemed, probably still one of the safest places to take shelter.
Urahara shifted the cane that was resting in his lap and squinted into the distance. Ichigo had reached the remains of his family's house.
"Ah, I wonder what he'll do now?" he asked with a knowing smirk.
Ichigo wavered at the sight of his destroyed home. The clinic had half collapsed and one of the walls to the house had crumbled. Gritting his teeth, he stepped over the debris and entered the hallway. The sheer silence in the dusty corridor unnerved him. This house had always been so full of energy – the contrast was extreme.
Picking his way carefully up the hallway, he kept his senses alert for any signs of life. He passed into the kitchen which was still mostly intact. A stack of plates had slipped off one of the kitchen units and smashed on the floor and some tins had fallen from one of the cupboards, but it otherwise looked like his two sisters should be sitting at the table, calling over to him to come eat.
Ichigo swallowed the lump in his throat. He was being foolish, imagining such things, he knew, but after the past few weeks he yearned for the sight of a familiar face. He turned from the view, putting the images out of his mind. Walking quickly, but carefully he reached the staircase that led to the upper floor. Testing the stairs with one foot, he made sure they would be able to take his weight before climbing them slowly. They creaked noisily, but didn't give way.
The upper hallway seemed fairly sturdy. Most of the damage to the house appeared to be the one wall that had collapsed. Ichigo stopped at the door to his bedroom, sliding his hand against the smooth wood. It felt cool to the touch, solid, real. He pushed gently and the door swung open.
He wrinkled his nose at the musty smell that drifted out of the room. Was something rotting in there? Ichigo took a step in, peering into the gloom hesitantly. His bed against the far wall was still made up, the sheets tucked in tightly. He passed the cupboard and saw immediately the source of the smell. His plate was still on his desk along with the remains of the last dinner he had eaten in this house. He had left in such a rush, with no idea that he wouldn't be returning for so long. With no idea that his family wouldn't be here to greet him.
Ichigo clenched his hand into a fist. Damn it. Where were they? Had they left with most of the other residents of Karakura? Had they been caught in the town somewhere? Not knowing was quite possibly the worst feeling, but at least he still had hope that they might be alive somewhere.
He strode over to the desk and slid open the drawer. His fingers found the small item he was looking for and he brought it up to eye level.
First, he needed to get to Soul Society. He had no idea what was going on there, but he believed – no, he hoped- that there would be someone there that could help, could explain, could do anything more than he was able to. He peered at the small spherical object in his hand for a moment, before popping it into his mouth and swallowing.