BLEACH: HOUSE BUILT ON SAND, SEQUEL TO A LINE IN THE SAND

He knelt with his legs neatly tucked under him. His eyes ached with dryness and grew redder with each night he failed to sleep. From under heavy lids, his dark eyes followed the pacing, blonde exile. "Ichigo," the man mumbled, turning his shadow-casted eyes onto the tired boy. "Your cause is admirable but-"

"Urahara," a roughened voice echoed from behind Ichigo. The boy turned and fixed his weary gaze onto a slim, black cat whose mannish voice continued to speak. "You don't intend to deceive this boy, do you? Is Abarai not also a friend of yours, Kisuke?"

"Ah, Yoruichi!" the smiling shop-keep gleamed. "Perhaps the oaf is better left to freeload in hell, no?" Kisuke felt his throat squeeze under the pressure of two solid hands.

"How can you joke like that?! How dare you!" Ichigo's voice rang with a demonic aura.

"Ah, geez." Kisuke brushed Ichigo's clutching fists away from him. "Relax Kurosaki. Sit." Ichigo sunk back onto his knees. "Do you know what happens when a soul reaper perishes?" Ichigo looked away. He hadn't the faintest clue. Kisuke grinned and the shadows around his eyes grew darker. "Their spiritual bodies break up into thousands of spirit particles. They become apart of the seireitei."

"What?" Ichigo heard his thoughts voice themselves. "What did you say?"

"You said yourself, Kurosaki, that Abarai was taken into the gates of hell?"

"Yes."

"Only humans can be taken to hell. That is, spirits existing outside the Soul Society… who've committed unforgivable acts. Get the picture, Kurosaki?"

"No."

Kisuke sighed. "If Abarai had died, he would have- for lack of a better word, disintegrated." The exile peered into Ichigo's brooding eyes. "Abarai should have dispersed into the fragments of atmosphere, but instead he was dragged into hell like a human sinner," Kisuke said with an unwelcome smile.

"It doesn't make sense," Ichigo concluded.

"No, It doesn't. Or rather," Kisuke smiled wider, "it shouldn't."

…

Ichigo sat quietly in the darkening room. He thought of the many gruesome deeds that humans carry out day to day. These deeds were abolished, cleansed by the zanpakutō during ritual soul funerals; however, some deeds must remain despite purging. Many humans commit unforgivable crimes, so could there be almost as many souls in Hell as there are in Soul Society? And if that were true couldn't Hell function under the ruling of Monarchs? Could Hell be a sub-division, or some sort of twisted trading partner with Soul Society? Ichigo frowned with his thoughts.

A silky black slipped inside the room, blending and travelling along the shadows. Ichigo extended his hand to meet it, passing it along the length of it's soft back as the animal walked into his lap. "Ichigo," the cat spoke with an undertone of compassion. "You seem even more troubled since your meeting with Urahara Kisuke."

"Only one thing he said, sticks with me." Ichigo let his eyelids rest slightly, "And it was the only thing I understood." He brought his hand onto the cat's head. "And that would be… that only humans can go to hell."

"I see." Yoruichi paused with a sudden understanding. "I get it. You intend to go?"

"I'm human. It's possible."

Yoruichi rested her head onto Ichigo's leg, "Yes. It is that."

…

The air cooled with the freshness of dark, which filled Ichigo's lungs and rejuvenated him somewhat. He exhaled, his breath like a gust of warm breeze. The night was starless, as had every night been for Ichigo since then- Since Renji had exited this world.

Two bright, yellow eyes floated in the dark and approached Ichigo without so much as a sound. "If Shinigami dwell here… I wonder what it is that dwells there."

"In hell you mean?" Ichigo spoke to the cat. "I don't need to know. I just need to get there." If a cat had the ability to smile, Ichigo would daresay that Yoruichi was smiling now. "You stay here… cat." The boy wore a familiar grin.

Kisuke stood behind them, patiently waiting. "Are you ready Ichigo?" The boy nodded and Yoruichi joined Kisuke's side. "Good." Moments passed silently between the three. "Well, this'll be interesting."

Ichigo's palms were slick with sweat. He felt bile rising in his throat and swallowed it down. Whatever it takes, he reminded himself. I will go through hell to find you, Renji. "I'm ready, Urahara!" Ichigo announced with false confidence. "I'm ready."

He'd seen the gates of hell twice before, bony and skeletal as they radiated with contempt and malice, their ancient doors yawning and eternally collecting. He grit his teeth together, not quite afraid but sick with anxiety. This is not the first time he'd sought to challenge the unearthly and fateful forces of gods, but hell is not Soul Society. Rukia was not Renji.

"Okay, Ichigo. Just remember you asked for this!" Kisuke gleamed, his sense of adventure never truly fading, not even in exile. Ichigo peered over his shoulder at the man and nodded. Kisuke grinned and lifted Benhime, levelling her with his shoulder and gripping the cane as if it were an extension of his arm. The sky grew syrupy and provided a challenging resistance as Kisuke turned the cane. The sky began to crumple and tear.

Ichigo faced the punctured sky, staring defiantly into the quickly materializing world behind it. A spiritual passage way had opened. "You take a wrong turn; you end up in the seireitei," Kisuke warned. "Otherwise, you'll end up in hell's boondocks." The man's grin became crooked. "I pray you take the right path, wherever that takes you."

Ichigo muttered about the man's cheerfulness. Urging his legs to stride forward, Ichigo plunged himself into the passageway, the sky quickly seeping back together behind him.

Silence.

"Don't look like that, Yoruichi. You break my heart looking like that." Kisuke looked upon the cat, her fur endless as the black sky and her yellow eyes appearing as if they were wedged into the dark firmament.

"Kisuke," she whispered, shutting her eyes and momentarily disappearing. "How long do we wait before…" Her voice quieted into a low murmur.

"Two days," answered Kisuke. "Before we fetch him. Two days." The cat nodded.

…

Ichigo traveled swiftly through the wooden halls of the spiritual passage way. His tabi clad and waraji wrapped feet tapped rhythmically against the floor; his vision blurred with the continuous rush of pale shoji screens. Where? Where is the end?! His thoughts seemed to echo within the tight halls.

You take a wrong turn; you end up in the seireitei.

It occurred to him that he needn't look for an end, only an exit- No, an entrance, a way into hell. Sometime during his contemplation he overstepped. His right foot sailing for a second too long, leaving him unbalanced. His body lurched over his right foot, now skidding onto his heel. His arms crossed over his chest awaiting impact as he crashed into the fragile shoji screen, but there was no impact. No floor on the other side, only a gentle darkness, which seemed to pull him forever deeper into blackness.

And so, Ichigo found himself suspended in a timeless abyss. A slight overstep, his own folly and carelessness seemingly condemning him to failure. No, another chance. Give me another chance, he pleaded to himself, his mind providing him with the only company available. He sunk deeper, until only darkness could be seen and quietness heard. His body was enticed to rest and although his mind was reluctant, he drowsed. His eyes and body were limp with a tired heaviness, as if his very soul was seeping away through his pores.

Wake up.

The message shot through him. He tore his eyes open and gasped for a breath. So close to death! His chest heaved and stung as he breathed. A trickling pain spread on his skin like fire until his entire backside burned with it. He clasped his open hands into fists, his knuckles knocked against hard ground. Ground. He rolled his eyes to the side, capturing the view of a stony ground beneath him. He lay on his back with his arms spread wide. Despite the agony resonating in his body, he pushed himself onto his bruised knees.

The air was light and warm, but laden with a thick despair. Ichigo could hear the blood beating within his ears, his skull hammering, his joints ripping. He drew another breath. The word 'hell' escaped from his lips. "Hell's Boondocks."

…

Ichigo looked overhead into the dense blackness. He'd fallen through. The spiritual passage must have been some sort of bridge into the seireitei, stretching over the expanse of hell's outskirts. "Kisuke!" Ichigo cursed loudly. "You bastard!" Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a crisp breeze brush past him. He reopened his eyes, his vision shaky and unclear. He didn't know where he stood or how to proceed. It'd been so long since he'd felt so unsure, so lost.

The pressure was so much denser than that of the Human world, or the seireitei, and the orange, stony expanse continued on and on into what seemed an eternal emptiness. Ichigo huffed and stood upright on his quavering legs. Two steps forward. He willed himself a third step but remained still. His vision blurred under a red haze and his eyelids dropped. He swayed, rolling onto the balls of his feet as his muscles began to slack. He couldn't move. Time couldn't move.

Heavy footsteps neared slowly in the distance, their thump causing the stony earth to shiver beneath them. The noise grew louder in Ichigo's ears. It drew closer. Stone split under the crushing weight of the approaching foot, the cracking sending Ichigo into alertness. He felt the thumping shake his very bones, ringing in his skull. He brought his hands over his ears, releasing a hissing breath between his grinding teeth. The noise. That horrible crushing noise, threatening almost to crush him as well. He pressed his fists against his ears, until the footsteps ceased and only the wheezing breath above him could be heard. The hot breath passed over him, smelling of rank foods and intestinal fluids. Ichigo forced his gaze upward. Looking back onto him was a dark and gnarled beast, whose eyes shone like flames.

If Shinigami dwell here… I wonder what it is that dwells there.

Ichigo swallowed a mouth full of air and frantically pawed for his zanpakuto. The large creature's gaze fell from Ichigo as it turned away and began stomping in a new direction. Ichigo's hand clasped itself around the hilt of Zangetsu. He stared blatantly at the slowly shrinking figure of the beast as it drew further away. Once the creature had disappeared entirely, Ichigo collapsed onto himself. His nails dug into the stony surface, gathering pebbles underneath them. He cried out. Frustration and angst overwhelmed him. His body ached and his mind roared.

"Where am I?!" he yelled into the stony oblivion, although he had a fair idea that he was adrift in hell. A glaze of water brimmed the corners of his eyes and he squeezed his fists tighter. Behind the veil of his eyelids, an image of crimson swam before him. That same deep colour flowing from a tanned scalp, framing a familiar face that flashed a white grin; black wisps of ink etched into tribal patterns along his skin, that soft skin. And those eyes, those magnificent eyes that reflected the same burning crimson of his hair. Ichigo shut his eyes tighter, finding refuge in the memory. Unclenching his fists, he passed his palms lightly over the pebbles on the warm stone and pressed his forehead to the ground. For so long he couldn't understand his feelings toward the other man. It left him confused and bitter and now he only yearned. It was a painful and desperate yearning for touch, contact, acceptance and daresay love? A void had opened within him.

The bleach-coloured strands of his hair bent with the breeze, as he stood tall against the expanse. Ichigo released the breath he hadn't realized he held before bursting off into a forward sprint. I'll find you. I'll find you, he repeated.

…

Ichigo's legs grew weary from the hours. He trudged along a sandy road he'd found only a few hours ago, pausing, he breathed in a large waft of air. He could smell something foul.

On the horizon lay a faint, black dot. This is where he headed. He let his head hang and proceeded travelling towards the dot. Only a few more hours, maybe two and he'd be there- it took four. At four hours, Ichigo planted his feet in the doorstep of the building that once lay on the horizon. It resembled a warehouse and the air was thick and smelly. "Hey!" Ichigo yelled foolishly. It was impulsive and he knew it, but he was tired and lonely and sore and didn't care.

"Aiya, aiya!" The old voice seemed to answer from all directions. "A Shinigami I see!" A figure rustled in the dark corner and waddled into the sunlight. He was an ancient man, withered and stunted. His yellow eyes peered out from his drooping brow. "Haven't seen one of your kind in centuries. Ah, but welcome, welcome!"

"Ah, old man, can you tell me where this is? I'm in need of direction." There was no point in being careful, not anymore. Ichigo rested his exhausted eyes on the elder.

"Well," the old man began. "This is… urm, well that is… boy, is this an honest question? You see this place has no name." The folds of the elder's skin stretched and sagged into an expression Ichigo couldn't decipher. "This is just a place… far away from the city, where we withered folk work to grind up the souls of the wicked." The elder's face reworked itself into a regretful picture. "That is, souls too wicked to be reborn."

"Grind… souls?" Ichigo thought aloud. "You?"

The elder squealed in delight, his screeching giggles causing the hairs on Ichigo's body to stand. The elder's mouth stretched into a toothless grin. "Yes, boy! As a Shinigami, you must worry for the souls of the departed, no? If you worry for these souls, than your worry is misplaced. We take good care of them, here. Oh yes! Special care!"

Ichigo swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. "Do all souls in hell get… grinded?" Whatever the old man had meant by grinding, Ichigo had felt it wasn't reversible.

"Not all, boy. Only the blackest ones." The elder grew serious. "Shinigami don't usually visit hell. Are you looking for a lost soul?"

Ichigo felt a surge of energy pulse through him. "Yes! Yes, I am. Another Shinigami. He passed about a month ago-"

"Ah," the elder breathed and shook his head. "Not here. No other Shinigami. Only you, my boy." Ichigo held back his relief. A quick rapping sounded from the other side of the wall. "Breaks over or so it seems," the elder commented, turning his attention to the wall. He brought his large, round knuckles to the wall and rapped back. He began to waddle back into the shadowy halls.

"Wait!"

The elder turned toward Ichigo.

"You said 'here' was far away from the city. What city? Where is it?" Ichigo spoke the words clearly, despite feeling unnerved. "How can I get there?"

The elder pointed his long, shaking finger to the right. "Train comes and goes… to the city at nightfall… to Hell's Port. Young Shinigami," the elder rasped. "Tis a place where evil festers. Keep your peepers open and you heart pure, if you want to last."

…

The pale, gray clouds overhead burned into a bloody red. It was night and Ichigo had already boarded the train of the damned. He leaned his body against the cool, metal interior, his head knocking against the window with train's rhythm- the clacking of the wheels beating in time with his despairing heart. He shut his drowsy eyes and dreamed, dreamed of the past.

"Don't pick at your wounds."

Ichigo paused after hearing the raucous voice. "What?" he asked. The other man only pointed. Ichigo followed the direction of the man's finger, which lead to Ichigo's own hand that was currently half buried in a fresh scab. "But it itches," Ichigo reasoned.

The other man shook his head. "Means it's healing. Don't pick at it."

Ichigo grumbled and planted his palms onto the ground, dried blood crusted under his nails. He rested his eyelids, still feeling the other man's burning gaze. "What?" Ichigo asked, sounding more irritated then he felt. "Honestly."

The other man grinned, revealing his white teeth between his lips. "You froze up back there."

Ichigo remembered. "So?"

"You can't freeze up."

"Nice fucking advice."

The other man's grin widened, he motioned to Ichigo's wound with his eyes. "You got that coz you froze," he stated.

"I know!"

The other man's eyes lowered, his gaze grew cloudy. He ran his hand over his forearm, brushing the length of a newly wrapped bandage. "I got this," he started, "because you froze."

Ichigo's eyes widened. "What?" he rasped and then he remembered. It was true. He froze. And while the other man fought to defend him, he stood frozen, unable to move. It was shameful. "Don't blame me," Ichigo swallowed, half pleading. The other man shook his head again, his smile returning.

"I broke the line," the man confessed. "I left another soldier wide open. I didn't give it a second thought." The man's gaze flickered onto the ground, and a deep sadness flooded behind his crimson eyes. Ichigo didn't have to guess. He knew that the man had broken the line to save him- because he froze. "He died because me." The man looked at Ichigo with an unreadable expression. "So why don't I feel any remorse?"

"Renji," Ichigo whispered.

Ichigo awoke slowly, parting his eyes almost bitterly. "Why am I remembering that now?"

…

The city was crowded with unearthly beasts. The porter had told Ichigo that the men in hell followed their wretched hearts, and their hearts lead their bodies to twist and rot. "That's why they look that way," the porter continued. "This way their faces now show sorrow for their sins. And here," the porter pointed into the pale sky, "…are the guardians, who watch with their unforgiving eyes. They wait the pluck up the flesh of sinners, I think, and drag them to peace. Maybe, but maybe this is too good a reward for them. Maybe, they go somewhere else, but I don't imagine a worse destination than here."

Ichigo looked into the sky, watching dark condors circle above the city. He wondered if the birds were the 'guardians' the porter spoke of. He pushed the thought out of mind and asked, "Have you seen another man here dressed like me? With blood red hair and black mark-"

"Ah, Renji!" The porter exclaimed with a cheerful smile. "None other fits that description around here. Quite a sorry fellow, he is."

"Where is he?!" Ichigo blurted, startling the old porter.

"Believe him to be that way, young sir. At the Gama Den, but I warn you-"

"Thanks," Ichigo yelled after he bolted.

…

Renji sat, slouched on a yellow couch that looked as if it had once been white. He worked a needle into his arm, pressing forcefully and causing blood to leak onto his fingers. In a few minutes, he knew he wouldn't feel the pain, only peace. A woman leaned onto his shoulder, her slender figure plagued by spreading blue and slight horns that peeked through her forehead. "Pay attention to me," she whispered in his ear, and licked his neck.

"Get off me, you whore!" Renji shouted, stabbing her bloodless leg with the empty needle. The woman pouted and yanked the needle from her thigh, tossing it onto the floor.

She squeezed his leg and smirked, "You'll be more than willing in a few minutes. Always are, and then I'll have my way with you."

Renji didn't grasp her words, as all the sounds around him seemed so far now, and he didn't care that he couldn't hear them. A creeping euphoria began to bloom inside him. He senses sharpened, but he felt numb at the same time. He leaned back onto the couch, letting his head hang back over the edge. He felt the woman crawl on top of him, her lips closing around his collarbone. "Don't," he breathed half-heartedly. Her tongue darted into his mouth.

"I always enjoy our time together," she smiled, bringing her hand lower. "You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

"Shut up," Renji's voice quieted and his body relaxed. He was lost in his own world. Nothing mattered here.