You know those people you sometimes meet? You know the kind I mean, the ones that look completely normal, but for some reason it's like there's a neon sign above their head that says 'Don't fuck with me'.
Now, in this situation, what do you do? Naturally, you tend to avoid these types of individuals, because something about them that you can't completely understand is telling you that if you mess with that person, they will mess you up, probably in some face rearranging way.
The above applies to smart people, persons that have some modicum of common sense.
The five teenagers who were currently glaring daggers at a white haired high school student were not smart people. Truth be told, they were rather idiotic.
You see, the teenager they were facing down positively oozed that 'don't mess with me' aura I talked about. Instead of running away like any sane person would, however, they took it as an affront to their non-existent manliness that the guy had the nerve to be like that when he was facing them, the baddest motherfuckers in town.
Yeah, I think you know where this mess is going.
What you might not know, but probably do because this is a fanfiction, is how the situation started.
It breaks down like this: The teens had been skateboarding down the street. No harm there, right? After all, there's no law against it. The problem arose when they carelessly ran over and shattered a glass vase, ruining the flowers inside as well.
The next thing they knew, a white and gray blur had come right the hell out of nowhere and knocked one of their guys flat on their ass. Naturally, they weren't happy about it.
Now there they stood, staring him down with the fires of anger in their eyes. Despite the fact that their instincts were screaming at them to run away, they stood their ground against white haired teen in the gray and red school uniform with a cross shaped scar on his cheek.
To a casual observer, the inevitable fight would have been an open and shut case. The five skateboarders would rush the lone high school student and mess him up pretty badly.
However, no fight involving the white haired teen ever turned out like most people think it would.
Why? Well, because he was Ichigo Kurosaki, a teen known defying the odds.
"You knocked over that vase that you did." He was also known for his odd manner of speech.
"And we care why? It's just a stupid vase, we'll replace it later." One of the skateboarders said uncaringly. Ichigo's posture didn't change, but his eyes took on a noticeable edge.
"I don't think you understand. Two grieving parents left that vase for their child who died here in a car accident that they did." His tone was calm, but only a moron could miss that he wasn't happy. "You can replace the vase and the flowers, but it's an empty gesture if you have no true reverence or remorse for the deceased child you just slighted." Unmistakably, his voice held nothing but pain for the teens if they weren't careful.
"Why the hell should we care? It ain't like the kid was related to any of us." The same one from before said callously. In response, Ichigo looked down, his ivory bangs casting a shadow over his eyes.
"Am I to understand, then, that you won't be apologizing for the vase?" He asked, his voice like ice.
"Hell no we're not apologizing! Why should we? If someone's gonna leave their trash in the middle of the sidewalk, it deserves to get run over!"
All anyone heard was a snarl, before the teen who'd spoken was relieved of his breath in one violent blow.
As the four remaining teens watched their comrade collapse with wide eyes, they couldn't help but wonder how the hell the other guy had reached him so fast. One second he was there, the next he was gone, and the next he was planting his fist into their friends solar plexus.
"Ts-Tsukishiro!" One of the skateboarders spluttered out, finally regaining his wits. He clammed right back up when Ichigo leveled angry brown eye on him.
"If all of you want to avoid ending up like him," He said, pointing a thumb at Tsukishiro. "I'd apologize before I have to discipline the rest of you similarly that I would." Oddly enough, even when he'd just felled a man with a single punch, he still sounded strangely sophisticated.
"F-fuck you man! You must have some kind of death wish, because no one messes with me or my boys and lives to tell about it!" One the skateboarders – apparently the leader – shouted as he charged toward Ichigo, fist etended.
The snow haired combatant didn't move an inch until his opponent was close enough, at which point he side stepped and grabbed the teen's leg. There was one instant in which Ichigo had the skateboarder held up by one leg before he slammed him into the ground with enough force to knock him out cold.
"I must reiterate. If you want to avoid you comrades' fate, you will apologize that you will." None of the three remaining skaters said anything. Ichigo heaved a sigh and prepared to put another one of them down, but something stopped him.
One of the skateboarders had broken away from the group and was slowly making his way toward the shattered remains of the vase. Upon reaching it, he bowed deeply.
"I'm very sorry that we dishonored your memorial." He said, sounding truly remorseful. Ichigo let a tiny smile cross his face at the guy before he looked at the other two. When they made no move to follow their friends example, he pounded one fist into an open palm, silently promising pain if they didn't fall in line. In the face of ending up just like the other guys, they muttered their own apologies.
"You see? Problems can be solved with violence that they can!" Ichigo exclaimed joyfully.
The teens looked to their fallen friends, then back to Ichigo, who's joyful smile hadn't budged one micrometer.
'Fuck this.' They though collectively. 'No way we're dealing with this psycho.' Without a word, they collected their friends and walked off.
Ichigo silently watched them go, and when they were gone turned toward the place that the vase had once occupied.
"I'm sorry you had to see that that I am." He said to what appeared to be empty air.
"It's alright mister!" A childish voice said from seemingly nowhere. A moment later, a little girl with brown hair in pig tails and pink dress faded into existence. "You beat up all the bad guys! You were all 'bam!' 'whoosh!' 'crash! It was so cool!" She gushed in that child like way that was just adorable.
"That may be true, but young ones like you shouldn't have to witness such violence, indeed they shouldn't." Ichigo asserted, though he did that have a bit of an 'ah shucks' blush on his face. "In any event, I'm sorry to say that I won't be able to fix the vase." He told the girl.
She looked a bit down cast for a moment before brightening right back up.
"It's alright. My mommy and daddy left that for me. Just knowing that they loved me enough to leave that for me after I died is enough." She said, though she still looked a tiny bit sad, despite the happy face. Smiling at her courage, Ichigo kneeled down and put one hand on the girl's head.
"You're being very brave for one so young." The girl's smile dropped a little at that, confusing Ichigo greatly. Weren't children supposed to be happy when they were praised?
"You're going to tell me I need to move on, aren't you?" It was posed as a question, but filled with only resignation.
Ichigo let a sad frown curl its way onto his face as he nodded solemnly.
"Yes. Spirits aren't meant to linger in the world of the living. All that this world has for them is the sorrow of knowing that they can see the ones they care for, while those loved ones will never see them again that they won't." At this, his frown warped into a reassuring grin. "But don't worry. There'll plenty of other kids to play with in the next world. You can play with them while you're waiting for your parents to come get you that you can." He told her. The girl perked up at the mention of the possibility of other children.
"Are you sure?" She asked doubtfully.
"If I'm wrong, you can thump me one when I eventually join you on the other side." The teen said, drawing a small smile from the girl.
"Okay." She said, appeased. "But can you do me a favor?" She asked.
"That I can." Ichigo answered. The girl took a deep breath, as if she was working herself up for something big.
"C-Can you tell them my last words?" She asked tentatively.
"Of course!" Ichigo exclaimed. How could he not? It was hard to imagine anyone being so heartless as to not convey a little girl's final message.
"Tell them," She sniffled "Tell them that their daughter Misao loves them very much." She said shakily on the verge of tears.
Looking at that face, that sweet, innocent face whose owner wanted nothing more than to convey one final farewell to her mother and father, Ichigo's resolve became even more concrete than it already had been.
"I'll be sure to let them know that, indeed I will." He promised. For some reason that he himself couldn't explain, he suddenly kneeled down and hugged the little girl. After a tense moment in which Ichigo feared he may crossed the line, the girl – Misao – hugged back.
"Thank you…so very much, mister." These were the final words of a girl known only as Misao before she faded away, moved on to the world beyond this one.
His arms now empty, Ichigo allowed a few tears to run down his cheeks. He'd had to hold them back while Misao was present, lest his words of reassurance be rendered cold and empty, but now, when there was no one around but himself to bear witness, he let the flow.
Nothing made his heart ache more than when he had to do things like this. What kind of world was it where children, who'd yet to even properly live their lives, were snuffed out early while some of the vilest filth to ever walk the earth lived well into their elder years?
In a world where heroes were few and far between, one child had decided long ago that he would become the greatest there ever was, a defender of all that he could protect with his own power.
If a mountain stood in his way, he would topple it. If his enemies hid within a mighty fortress, he would storm it. If reason tried to stop him, he'd kick it to the curb and go beyond the impossible. And he'd do it all without shedding a single drop of blood.
That was the creed of Ichigo Kurosaki.
A/N: So, what do you think of that? There's not much action, but this chapter wasn't meant to be an action power house. It was meant to introduce our protagonist and establish his character, which I think we can all agree is vastly different from his canon counterpart. Why is our favorite strawberry not so hot blooded? What is the origin of the scar on his face? What changes has a demented author wrought upon the world of Bleach? To find out, keep reading Weeping Devil: Guardian's Awakening!