Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, or any of the Bleach characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

The Place That I Called Mine

Prompt: Nothing is the same...

A/N: Future Yachiru.

How long had it been since she'd been here?

For the last few decades, she'd gone about exploring what both sides of the world had to offer, having found herself sleeping in the brush of the forests on many a night. Those times, she remembered, were remeniscent of what few memories she had of her first few years of life. During those cold nights, she'd been wrapped up in strong arms, easily drifting off to sleep as warmth embraced her and fire danced upon the ground.

Although she didn't remember them, she was sure that every dream she'd had during that time had been nothing less than pleasant.

It just hadn't been the same these last few years. Yachiru had long-since grown old enough to be out on her own, as she'd been told by her savior. As much as she'd loved him, she'd wanted to go back and see the place where he'd found her years before. Of course, she hadn't told him that, as he'd tell her that the trip wasn't worth shit nor the trouble.

All the same, she'd gone.

It had been her intention to come back quickly, but she'd been sidetracked by all that there was to see. She would go home every so often, popping into his room in hopes of scaring the wit right out of him. Sadly, every subsequent attempt had failed. Just like they had during her childhood.

When she'd gone back to the 79th Rukon district, the on from which her surname had been taken, everything had seemed so different from before. In what little memories she had retained, her eyes had seen naught but a single color, that which gave life to man and beast. She'd been an infant when the carnage had come to pass, easily abandoning her on the streets of this wretched place. But now, it really didn't seem quite so horrid. Over the years, much effort had gone into taming the outer districts of the Rukon, bringing them up-to-speed on the proprieties and perks of civilized society.

Still, she couldn't help missing the way things had been before. For a time, she'd wandered about, staring off into space as little pieces of her fragile, infant memories darted back in little sparks. On the main street, she could see herself crawling through the dirt and debris of houses, tiny hands prodding the remains of some older children.

Several meters away, in a clearing within the forest, was where she'd been found. The trees had been burned and charred for quite some time, the dark sky hanging over her. Tiny fingers had slid over the harsh, painted steel, big eyes staring up at the face she had easily come to love.

Each time she'd come close to returning to the Soul Society, she'd stop in her district, carving the memories as deep as they would go.

When she'd go home, she would stand at the gate for a few minutes, that beaming smile on her face. Her only attachment to the 79th district was that he had saved her there, a helpless baby. But this place, this city, with its high walls and great white buildings, held so much more.

This was where they used to play.