For the Theme Writing Challenge, "Family", on The Hostile Takeover forum.
A story about Hisana and Rukia before they arrived in the SS.
Warning: Violent scenes.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
White Door
"He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain.
All these things are gone forever,"- Revelation 21:4
Their house burned.
The fermenting colours of reds and oranges danced into the night. Stars above sparkled like heavenly gods, unknown to the massacre below.
The pattering of horses and men ran throughout the village, killing, slaughtering everyone in their path. Screams of villagers echoed throughout the valley floor. Blood soaked into the Earth's soil, staining it red. Metal clashed with metal, sparks flying whenever the village men tried to ward off the bandits.
And two girls hid in a closet. One eleven and the other only a few months born.
It was 1772 and they were alone.
The eleven year old hushed the wailing babe in her arms. They were trapped in their burning home, hiding in the closet where their mother had put them. Outside they could hear deep male voices mixed in with the cracking of the fire, and crashing of the wood above them. The little girl placed her hand over the babe's mouth, trying to stop the smoke from entering the small lungs. She did the same to herself, but not even her tiny hand could stop the smoke from entering. She felt faint and dizzy. The oxygen was limited and running out fast, and her infant sister would not live if they stayed for much longer.
So she ran.
Kicking out the closet door, they ran passed the few bandits taking the remaining coins in their house, not catching their eyes. At the doorway, their mother laid in her own pool of blood, her throat slit, the red liquid still pouring out. The girl's eyes widened, but she didn't stop. She held back the scream wanting to come out of her mouth, focusing on getting her little sister out and safe.
Bodies scattered everywhere. People who she knew, and alive just hours earlier, smiling and laughing. Her breathing hitched when she saw her best friend's body lying in the mud, her head not far away.
She forced back the vomit, rushing up her esophagus.
And she tripped.
Her sister's crying didn't stop and only increased when she landed forward. Mud splattered everywhere. The light blue kimono she was wearing was now bloody brown, mud stuck to her short strands of black hair, and the blanket carrying her sister was no longer the pure white fabric they knew. She didn't know what to do. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks, and she held the babe closer to her chest hoping for an exit out of this nightmare.
"It…it's going to be alright, Rukia," she whispered. "You'll see…we'll get out of here and…and it'll be better."
More people ran. More people screamed. The bandits came closer, but she didn't move….
…as they passed through her.
She closed her eyes when they did, but opened them when she didn't feel the stab of the sword or kick of a foot. She looked behind, seeing a figure in the mix of flames and blood, dressed in a black uniform and holding a simple katana. His short, shaggy hair blowing behind him, held together with silver hair pieces on the side. He was looking at her too.
And it scared her.
She got up, turned around, and with the little energy left, ran into the darkness of the tall oak trees.
Her sister calmed down a few hours after they found shelter in a hollow hole of an old oak. Light started to appear over the mountains, flooding the valley in a warm glow. The little girl stepped out, hearing no more screams or cries.
Every step taken gave her more worry. The closer and closer they got the more the smell came rushing forward, and then they came to the boarder and entered the village. Burning flesh of desiccating corpses covered in mud, smoking into her nose. Ash laid and still fell like black snow in the summer. There were no sounds of life. Only Death silenced the scene in his eerie presence.
They came to their house were their mother's corpse still laid, unrecognizable, now burnt and black, covered with a layer of ash. But the little girl did not scream. She only stepped around and into the remains of their home. Beams of wood now painted black with charcoal. Empty and dead.
Only the closet was left.
And what the girl saw in the destroyed wooden closet was nothing she wanted to see.
It was her.
Lying in a pile of ash was two bodies, indistinguishable. A small bit of blue fabric left on the burnt body and the scarred blanket, once white, beside it, wrapped around the bundle that was once her two month born sister.
Then she noticed it. The chain attached to her chest, holding only a few rings. Her sister the same.
She turned around when she heard the footsteps approaching—the man in the black kimono returning, giving them a small, sad smile as he pulled out his sword.
"Am I dead?" the little girl asked quietly, showing no fear.
He gave her a nod before asking what her name was.
"Hisana and this is my little sister, Rukia."
"You two are very brave," he said, his voice like a deep sounding angel.
"Are you here to take us away?"
"No, little one, but I am someone who will help you move on."
"What about Mamma?"
"She's moved on already."
"Where did she go?"
"Probably the Soul Society," he kneeled down to her height, "And she's probably waiting too."
"Will we be okay if we leave?" The tears started to roll down her dirt-stained cheek.
He nodded.
"Then we are ready," she said, standing up straight.
She then watched as the man held the hilt of his katana against her forehead. The warmth flowed over her like a light blanket. Hint of summertime. Sounds of childhood laughter echoed. Smells of wild flowers in spring, twisted through the wind. She smiled feeling herself lift away with her sister in her arms, entering a white door ahead.
And she closed her eyes.