Twilight: Hello! This is Dragon of Twilight, writer of shitty stories that I never bother to update! This is my muse, Kage!
Kage: …Yo.
Twilight: Some of you may recognize him from my Naruto story.
Kage: And what a crappy story it is…
Twilight: You think all my stories are crappy, so shut the hell up.
Kage: That's because they ARE.
Twilight: … Well, anyway, this is my newest story—
Kage: Duh.
Twilight: Shut up—and it's a HitsugayaXOC. If you don't like that pairing, don't read this. This story takes place about fifty years after Aizen has been defeated. It features a new character that was inspired from Death Note, and you'll see why soon.
Kage: You should be arrested for plagiarism.
Twilight: Technically, all fanfiction is plagiarism.
Kage: Which is why you shouldn't write it.
Twilight: Oh, shut up.
. Requiem of a Wandering Spirit .
… a bleach fanfiction
--
Requiem of a Wandering Spirit © Dragon of Twilight
Bleach © Kubo Tite
This introduction format © B a y o – B a y o
--
CHAPTER O N E :
"A New Recruit"
Opening Theme: "Houki Boshi" by Younha
Choosing new squad members among fresh recruits straight out of the Shinigami Academy was not usually a boring job. Each of the recruits were usually eager to show off their newly learned skills to the captains of the Gotei 13, hoping to be accepted into a famous division.
But this bunch was the most unlikely, unenthusiastic group of recruits Captain Hitsugaya had ever seen in his relatively young life as a captain.
Out of their sight, the diminutive Tenth Division Captain watched the bored shuffling of the line of recruits with displeasure. When he arrived, the students had already been given their graduation certificates and stood in a line to wait to be assigned for their squads, a little sticker with a crudely drawn number stuck to their chests.
Stepping through the door to the entrance hall, Hitsugaya strode confidently to the center of the dojo-like room to stand directly in front of the line of recruits. They kept talking to each other and doing other various, but equally annoying, things. Hitsugaya felt his temper rising along with his reiatsu, and the sudden drop in temperature was enough to get their notice.
"Attention!" He barked out, his voice carrying put over the room.
Icy teal eyes swept over the line of graduates as they snapped to attention. He noted with some satisfaction that some shivered as they were affected by his assessing stare. His intent look went flat as he got a good look at the line of graduates.
About five of them were young girls who stared at him with wide eyes and furious blushes. The fangirl glint in their eyes was unmistakable and he moved on with a faint shudder. The other six glared at him for attracting all the female attention and generally looked like they wanted to hurt him in some manner. One of the last recruits was an extremely chubby boy, who was sneaking potato chips from the sleeves of his blue Academy outfit and stuffing them hungrily in his mouth.
Hitsugaya wrinkled his nose slightly as he briefly reflected how unhygienic that was. Potato chips flavored with lint, dirt, and dead skin cells. Yum.
To his faint relief, a sudden rustle of black cloth distracted him from his faintly revolted staring (the boy had started to sweat, further contaminating his snack) and drew his attention to a completely still figure standing in the corner nearest the door. He had completely missed it when he came in.
Curiosity peaked; Hitsugaya analyzed this new oddity. This recruit was wearing a tattered black cloak with the hood up, hiding the person's features and going completely against the Academy dress code. The cloak was stained with some unidentifiable substances and ripped in several places. The thin frame suggested that the person was female and the stance she had adopted intrigued him, a kind of hunched crouch that seemed more fitting to a cornered animal. He noted with interest that the she kept her back to the corner.
"You there, number…" He sneaked a quick look at her number, penned in a horrid scrawl that was difficult to read. "…Eighty six. Step forward and tell me your name, district, specialty, and zanpakutō type."
There was a pause as Hitsugaya waited expectantly for her to step forward, which she did, albeit hesitantly. The other graduates began whispering to each other again, sneaking fearfully apprehensive yet disgusted glances in the girl's direction. A spindly hand covered in creamy brown skin snaked out of the cloak and rose up, shaking, to touch the hood. Another heavy pause.
Hitsugaya scowled impatiently and crossed his arms impatiently. "Now. I don't have all day."
The hand fisted momentarily in the material of the hood before slowly pushing the fabric back. It became immediately clear that she had made no effort to look her best to make a good impression.
Hitsugaya noticed immediately that the girl's hair was white, like his own, but darker, more of a silver color. Bits of twigs, leaves, and various other items were caught in it and the hair itself was tangled horribly and fell limply over her face. The little skin he could see; that of her wrist and hands, was a creamy, almost coffee-colored shade of brown, and her wrists were bony and bandaged. The fingers were long and spindly, and her nails were torn at the ends as if she gnawed on them.
"…I …am Maboroshi Yuurei. From Zaraki… Specialty: reiatsu manipulation. Zanpakutō type I think is kidō." Her voice was almost scratchy, whispery, sighed from under the curtain of tangled silver that blanketed her face.
"You think? What do you mean, 'I think'?" Hitsugaya demanded, striding over to her. Alarm bells had gone off in his head at the name Zaraki, and the huge, scarred form of the Eleventh Division captain came to mind. He paused when she flinched slightly and stopped about five feet from her. "It's your zanpakutō; how can you not be sure?"
"Please, Taichou…" Yuurei said quietly, drawing her zanpakutō from somewhere under her cloak. Hitsugaya noticed that she palmed the blade to make it obvious that she drew the sword as a non-threatening gesture. "I know my zanpakutō, but his abilities are…unique."
"His?" Hitsugaya's eyebrows drew together as he examined her blade. "You've already met your zanpakutō face to face?"
The zanpakutō had the basic general shape and size of a standard katana. The tsuka (1) looked like it was made of a type of dark wood. There were no ito (2) wrapped around it for a grip, but there seemed to be indents in the tsuka that were used as a grip. The blade edge was cruelly serrated and a strange pearly white color, like bone.
Hyourinmaru stirred in the back of his mind, sending an icy blast into his mind as a warning. The blade was dangerous, and Hyourinmaru did not like it at all.
"Yes…I've already met him. He's quite odd-looking, especially in his last stage..." Yuurei murmured, trailing off, apparently feeling the uneasy stir from Hyourinmaru.
Hitsugaya's customary frown deepened as he noticed this. She's sensitive to reiatsu…if I release mine…wait…
"You've already achieved bankai?" Hitsugaya's eyes narrowed sharply, his mind whirling at the implications.
"No, no…" Yuurei denied absently, seemingly entranced with her blade, running a hand carelessly over the sharp edge. The jagged blade cut slightly into her palm, blood welling up and dripping down the sleek, pearly material. Hitsugaya's emerald eyes widened slightly as blood began to run down her wrist and arm to disappear into her sleeve.
"Hey…" Hitsugaya exclaimed, reaching forward slightly to grab her wrist. Yuurei allowed her wrist to be jerked away from her blade with little reaction.
Hitsugaya gave a start as he examined her palm at both the skeletal feel of her arm, and the sight of the long slice in the calloused tissue of her palm already starting to heal over. Roughly, he pressed the skin over on one side of her palm to open the cut a bit more. Yuurei didn't flinch, but merely raised her head as he pulled her hand closer, bringing her palm up to his face.
After a short observation of the rapid healing that was taking place right before his analytical eyes, he abruptly dropped her hand and looked down into her face, a command in his throat. The glimpse of her eyes through her hair was enough to make him almost choke on his words.
Black. Her eyes were black. They were wide and unblinking, frozen in a perpetually blank expression, gleaming flatly like polished black pearls. The total blankness of expression in them was chilling, even to a master of ice like Hitsugaya.
"T-this week's selection is over." Hitsugaya said, quickly gaining back his composure and normal icy manner. "I will send a letter to those who made it onto my squad." Hitsugaya turned his back on Yuurei and strode purposefully out of the room.
He had a recruit to research.
Maboroshi seemed levelheaded enough when she spoke, but the combination of her odd outfit and her dreamy, emotionless behavior made him cautious. There was something this woman was hiding. Something big.
And he didn't like it at all.
"Do you need something, Hitsugaya-taichou?" The Academy Head Instructor sighed tiredly, wearily grading a large mountain of paperwork that almost hid his tousled gray-streaked brown hair from view. His nameplate, which was being used as a paperweight, read Nakamura Saburo.
"Yes." Hitsugaya affirmed, approaching the desk. "I need the file on a student that was at the graduation today."
"Wait, let me guess…Maboroshi Yuurei?" Saburo asked, putting down his calligraphy brush and lacing his hands under his chin, his round glasses flashing.
He must have looked surprised, because Saburo laughed, making Hitsugaya bristle slightly. What was he laughing at? He soon got his answer.
"That girl baffles everyone she comes across," said Saburo, shaking his head slightly in amusement. "I've got her file, but you'd understand it better if you talked to her yourself."
With the ease that comes with long practice, Saburo leaned down and yanked the file out from under one of the pile of papers sitting on his desk, which made the whole stack tremble slightly. Quickly rifling through it to confirm it was the right one, he offered the strangely thin folder to Hitsugaya.
"She's a strange one, that girl." Saburo mused, picking up his brush to resume his paperwork. Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow, but took the folder without comment.
Saburo didn't look up as he headed for the door, but the man's last parting shaft made him pause.
"Hitsugaya-taichou, I'd think very carefully about allowing that girl into your squad."
The white-haired tensai (3) turned his head to look at the teacher. "Why?" He demanded flatly. Saburo frowned slightly and tilted his head up to look at the ceiling.
"Maboroshi Yuurei is one of the most unpredictable students I've had in a long time, and I've worked here a long time. She doesn't seem to work well with specific people and during evaluations, she shows just enough of her power to move on to more advanced classes, but she always seems as though she's holding back, especially when she's fighting." Saburo's frown deepened. "She's polite, respectful to a point…but something is off about her." He looked up to find the captain watching with an unreadable expression, and started to sweat. "I-I'm not saying that I'm disagreeing with your choice, but I'm just saying that she could be trouble."
Later, Hitsugaya pondered Saburo's words as he sauntered back to his division. He mulled the man's words over in his head a few times before dismissing them. If I've made a mistake, I'll take responsibility and deal with it if or when it shows up.
Little did he know exactly how much trouble Maboroshi Yuurei would be.
Ending Theme: "Again" by Yui
A/N: All right, I noticed how utterly unprofessional my fanfic looked and decided to do some revamping. The format I now use belongs to B a y o – B a y o and her awesome fanfics.
Japanese translations:
(1)—handle
(2)—wrappings
(3)—prodigy
SPECIAL THANKS TO:
The RoseBlade Ninja Alchemist, schoolsucks13;
THANK YOU!
Signing out,
Dragon of Twilight!