Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own Bleach, as stated by the title of this site. (It's FANfictionnet, right? Why are these disclaimers even used?)

Warning: Brief mentionings of killings, spoilers

Characters: Zaraki Kenpachi and Yachiru. Not as a couple. That's just... -shivers- Their father-daughter relationship is beautiful enough to write about.

Note: I've been really paranoid if I should post this or not. But hardly anyone writes about these two, despite their all-too-awesome combo of chaos and humour, so I decided to, just because they deserve some fiction. Though this will not be a humour story, like most stories concerning these two characters. Instead it's more serious. Being funny isn't really my thing :P

Takes place before Ichigo comes, and after Kenpachi has become a captain.

Resurrected Warrior

by Growing Pain

Life had not treated him kindly, and left him scars on both body and mind. There was a time, he remembers with a frown, when he was filled with nothing but anger. He had never belonged in this world like everyone else had. And without a name, this endless stay in a place after death caused him great pain. He had been lonely, though he'd never say so himself.

But he had not been weak, and he still wasn't. He had fought, and still did.

So much blood he had spilled, with no satisfaction given. There was but a empty hole inside of him, screaming, calling to know who he was, an unsolved enigma not even he could answer.

His eyes had been dead, but his soul was not, and it had reminded him of that everyday, tearing him apart.

He had really wanted to be someone. To make a name for himself, instead of having to continue that worthless kind of living he had grown used to. He had always wanted something else. Something more than this hollow existence could offer. There had to be.

A forgotten man, not wanted by anyone in the harsh environment he had lived in, he had learned to mind his own business. People were overrated anyway. Perhaps, being left alone was a good thing.

Often he observed when he didn't kill, walking with the masses of people on the streets. Watched those around him with careful eyes, trying to recognize if he too shared something with them. But it was useless. There was no other like himself. All had a place in this world but him, and he grew angrier. Tch. Like he should care anyway. He didn't need anyone else. He was perfectly fine on his own. All he ever wanted was to grow stronger. Why should he want someone with him to obtain that?

So with time, he stopped caring to even bothering to look at their faces. They all blurred together, a meaningless vision for him to see. No one mattered to him, and maybe that was the way to stay strong.

Mostly he had thought of himself as numb. The lives he took mattered not to him, and they never would. It had been their own fault for dieing since they were weak. They should have known better than to fight him, the nameless warrior no one could remember.

People more ruthless than he were missed, while he would not even have a name to be remembered by. But he continued, for fighting was all he knew.

It all changed one day. He had killed, as per usual. But a helpless girl on the ground made herself known around all the corpses he had recently fought. She came to him, sought him out. Stayed with him. She did not fear the blood on his sword, but rather embraced it, running her small finger over the surface. He had told her it was dangerous. She had only smiled at the red liquid that had been smeared on her hand. He knew then, that she was not like everyone else.

She did not have a name either. She had no one who cared for her. She would not be missed nor remembered. She had been just like him. A thought he had found oddly comforting.

He gave her a name then, and named himself as well. He also then decided, as this seemed to be the day of a new era, to become the strongest fighter Soul Society had ever seen. His goal suddenly found a reason and deeper meaning. If they didn't want to name him, fine, he'd give himself a name. If they didn't want to remember him, he'd make them. He was not a man to ignore.

So he took her with him, thus saving her from a death that would soon come, had he just let her to be. Never had he done such a selfless act before. He killed, not saved. But she was his exception that day, and proved to be one for the rest of his life.

She also proved to be quite an annoyance, that little brat that she was. But she was his brat, and he'd be damned if anything happened to her. He kept her with him over the years and taught her to fight and fend for herself; for those were the most important things to learn. They both grew powerful, yet their personalities clashed in such a remarkable way it felt oddly right. What could he say. She had grown on him. Big deal. He had not gone mushy, if that was what anyone suspected. He was still just as dangerous as before, if not more.

She soon started to admire him, and he had never felt so important. He mattered to her, and he felt he had a reason in life.

The pain seemed to vanish slowly, like a mist in the clearing. His old agonies suddenly shied away from him, as he now had someone. He had a name as well. So there was only one more thing left for him to accomplish. He wanted strength. To be the best and most powerful. And together they had began that journey. Neither would ever be nameless or forgotten again. Together they had found a place to belong, two misfits brought together by circumstances.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

So now, as he sits and does his tremendously boring paperwork while she's on the floor, making finger paintings to amuse herself, he smirks. For she made his life more than bearable.

He's strong now. Immensely so. Feared and known, only fools have no knowledge of who he is. He still kills, but now it occurs with outmost passion. What a thrill it was to fight someone! The feeling was intoxicating and gave him a rush every time he met a worthy opponent. An unmatched euphoria. Shamefully, it was also a rare occurrence to find it. Not many could match him.

Some called him insane for thinking like that. But he only saw it as logical. For it was only when you could enjoy life the way he did that you also could enjoy killing as equally much. Fighting gave him so much pleasure, and why shouldn't it? He had worked hard to get this high. Should he not enjoy his power now that it is finally his? Of course he should!

He had all he ever wanted now, and to die with no regrets was a very good way to go. She'd miss him, he was sure. But he made sure no one would ever surpass his strength. He'd never let her be alone again.

He'd always stay by her side, as she would stay by his, and no battle would ever change that. A bond that would never break, he could not deny it. But he'd hate to sound so emotional.

Maybe he was still searching. Trying to find someone stronger than him to get a worthy kick in his system. But unlike his earlier years of bleak existence, trying to find what he searched for didn't feel agonising anymore.

For now he was finally free to enjoy life just as it is.

Words: 1209
Wow...that's really short for me to write. Then again, one-shots are awkward for me, and always get short.

Now, if anyone from the Yugioh section sees this; no, I am not slacking. No, I have not forgotten about JouKai and the wonderful goodness it brings. I am currently working on a longer story with them, as a matter of fact. Just felt like writing something for Bleach too, since it kicks so much ass!

Anyway, I hope you all liked it. I wanted to show the importance Yachiru had to him, for him to be able to evolve as a person. It wasn't really shown in the anime (don't know about the manga), it was more like how much he meant to her in that one episode when they got the focus. But we all know he loves to pieces .

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Please review. Feedback of any kind is highly appreciated. Don't be afraid to criticize, I can take it.