What if we

could just throw

away the past

like it was nothing

Treat it like it'd

never last

pretend that it was

somthing

how I wish

that I could

be anyone and

throw away the

past

like it was

nothing.

Don't own any Bleach.


Nothing.

The concept of nothing is hard for the simple human mind to envision. For the average child, nothing is a world without color. A world without laughter, fun and Auntie Mai's delicious miso soup. For the seemingly "complicated" adult, nothing is the world without another. And even if our defining nature tells us that nothing is, in fact, just the state of not being, how can we justify our wanting to define it as a world without light?

Try to picture nothing. What color would it be? Not red, white, orange. Not even black. If you close your eyes and look carefully at nothing, your mind creates patterns, patterns of no color, intricately detailed sketches of space, to make up for the lack of anything.

And what is this feeling of being immersed in nothing? Amazingly, the weight is unbearable. The nothing is ironically heavy, not on our straining eyes or sinking bodies, but our terrified minds which just cannot comprehend this state of virtually impossible being. Knowing nothing, feeling nothing, seeing nothing- it all leads to the development of an inner lunatic, which has been locked up in a rubber room chewing on it's toes for the past however many years we have been alive.

You wrinkle your nose in disgust. But it's alright. Once you get to know this pigment of your imagination, this comrade truly is quite a lovely person to have around. Especially in the predicament of surviving alone, surviving in nothingness.

There's practically nothing in the world that will be hard for us to believe now- our partners have taken care of that. We know every crook and cranny of this earth, perhaps not the tangible, but the imaginable. It is rather awful and dreadful when someone feels that there is nothing left in this world, the world of the Shinigami, to surprise them. And this is so morose that, even if Shinigami have already technically experienced death, the one moment of no pain, no sorrow, only nothing,

Death has begun to tempt and lure us into it's clutches again.

Weeks ago while visiting the handful of friends that I have in the world of the living, I saw a person in the world of the living wearing a grey shirt with the simple embroidery that said "Shakespeare hates your emo poems" while walking back from the supermarket. Just from the look of it, I knew she was an language teacher- the way she carried her bag, one shoulder lower than the other, slinging a bookbag most likely filled with truckloads of ridiculously naive papers that she would eventually have to mark full of furious red. The contemplation of the word "emo", which my friend explained derived from the word emotional, and this shirt lead me to the dusty old sonnets and tragedies Shakespeare that some of my living friends showed me in the school library.

This negative diction comes from a passionate and undefinable word- emotional. Thinking of a person, whose emotion makes them despised in the world of the living, makes me ponder the changes from what I was taught as child. Emotion is always a beautiful thing to carry, however burdened it may be.

Even if this Shakespeare hates all of my "emo" poems, and despite what all of the other's may say, I wouldn't classify my speaking as "emo" at all. Wherever this idea of a person that should be avoided because their emotions are dark, it makes me upset. When did thinking and pondering become such a negative thing? In my defense as well, this writing is nothing compared to the finely-wrought poems and novels that other superior minds have crafted. I'm just speaking matter-of-factly, speaking for my clean-cut mind and for comical and mental relief from the strangling hold of reality.

In fact, I've been feeling rather light recently, having given the burden of nothingness a great amount of thought, and I'm perfectly content sharing this wonderful insight with you. I don't know about the world of the Shinigami, but the world of the living has some delicious writing. Sorry to say, but I've grown rather bored of reading of history some high-assed noble clan of the Kuchiki's, even if they've saved my sorry behind from that impoverished village, I'm totally willing to bet my sanity that none of them, even my sister, has ever set down quietly to read even a single sentence of Shakespeare or Dante.

So this is how my monologue comes to a full circle, finishing with describing the emptiness, the meaningless living that we scramble about, so eager on catching that superficial hope. The idea of happiness-such a tricky, fleeting bastard- the more it is wanted, the more it hides; this unreachable satisfaction can only be obtained on accident, never purposefully. Emotion is what keeps us afraid of nothing, what keeps us attached to this world as a human, not a cloned automaton. The emptiness which we seek in a lifelong journey will never be found, unless stumbled upon, and what plasters us to this earth is not the unbearable burden of living, but the magnificent feeling of love.


I thought that I had found love in Renji in the Rukongai district- amid the poverty and misery. Kindness in Squad 13, from Kaien Shiba. Love in the world of the living, Orihime, Ichigo, Sado, Uryuu. And I'm so very grateful that these people helped me push through one hundred fifty years of life- no matter how poor, how ignored, how hopefully close to salvation I seemed, these people tethered me down to reality. In both the world of the living and the Sereitei.
And I'm so very grateful.


But where did it all start?

Back, years ago.

The first decades of my life in the Soul Society can be almost completely neglected. Surrounded by the slums of District 78, I grew up as a person that I am almost too ashamed to tell about. But this growth was the initial stage of the person I turned into, a cocoon for a butterfly, and I feel obliged to tell it all. Engulfed in lies, cheating, stealing, crime- I would gladly trade my life to prevent another child from experiencing the same trauma.

Some days in District 78, as I was faint with hunger and dressed in tattered rags, I reminded myself that hunger was a sign of spiritual pressure of the Soul Reapers. When I lay face down in the dusty dirt, parched like a mule, I would close my eyes and think about my future- a delusional hope, a rejected dream. And when I was brutally beaten for stealing a loaf of bread for my friends, I would watch the blood drip from my sunken cheeks to the dusty dirt, turning the dry, crisp sand into a rich, dark red.

During harsh winters, I helped organize the children from the Rukongai that I lived with into groups. We would set out, one at a time, to loot the street shops and find cloth, to sew into clothes, and any kind of available food. If one shift were to come back beaten and hurt, another group of girls, led by Miyuri, would take them in, and then the other members of the group would have to take over. Amazing how poverty can transform a group of savage children into an organized society of thieves.

And when our shrunken stomachs were filled by the small crumbs and river-water, we would settle down and dream of our former lives.

Life in the world of the living is lost once a soul enters the other world; like a pin in a haystack, it's almost impossible to retrieve. I liked to pretend that I was a successful woman who had lived up to a ripe age and willingly left the world and heritage to her few children in the world of the living. Sadly, I knew that was not true. Otherwise I would have joined the Rukongai as an old lady. Even my fairy-tale was a fake. Fantasies, fantasies.

The mind enjoys filling up nothing with imaginations.

There were other children there, others who followed me, believing in my strong sense of morals. If I said that their faith was trusted wisely, I would be lying. As a child, I was no better than the criminals that snuck along the shadows; I was merely a criminal is training. And to reassure my self esteem, I would justify my crimes by claiming that survival must come first. This must be how all criminals turn their plunder into acceptance and perhaps even honored moral code.


When I was still wearing the red and white uniform of a training Shinigami at the Academy, separated from Renji due to my lack of skill and determination. How bitter I was, that Renji had been put in the higher class than I had, though I was always the one to come to his defense in the Rukongai district. How spiteful I was that Renji was well on his way to joining the Court Guard Squads, while I was still weeks behind, cultivating the seemingly non-existent "talents" that my teachers insisted that I had. He was better than me.

Renji; he was fast. Smart; good at everything. Everyday, he had something new to show me, something that he was nearly brimming over with joy about: a new technique, perfection of his shikai, some new kidou spell. He was sent out with the fourth years in his second year at the Academy, grouped with some of the most skilled Soul Reapers in training. In the morning, he was awake even before I could fall asleep, and the only time I would see him during the years was during the off-days, and sometimes during meals. He had so much to be proud of, so much to want. And while I watched his progress through my envy-tinged eyes, I realized that the only thing I could be proud of was him.

But this bittersweet pride could only lead to worse. I would change out of my uniform, toss it angrily onto the wooden floor, next to my zanpaktou, and swear that I was running away. Away from this place where only the happy and skilled belonged.
So this widening split between us- between two that would have otherwise been undecipherable- was now completely out in the open. Renji was Renji. And I- well- I was the girl from District 78.

Why I made up my mind to follow the strange man- perhaps it was spite. Jealousy. Getting back at Renji for leaving me behind. But- aside from that, which I do shamefully admit to feeling, I assert that it was based more off of instinct rather than hatred. Hope for a new life, free from this never-ending cycle that my soul was trapped in. This would guarantee entrance into the Court Guard Squads, as well as entry into a royal family. The man, Byakuya Kuchiki, still puzzled me. Why such a cold, blase personality was so insistent on adopting a lowly Rukongai District 78 girl into the noble family- surely this would not only ruin his name, but his family's as well.

So that was the beginning of my career as a true Shinigami.

My life was being molded from nothing into a true something.


My story begins as solemnly as all other tales do; mine is no different.

Just a poor girl living in a rich world, saved by the pity of what some would call a "prince" in a fairytale.

Pity.

What a piteable word.

The idea of being pitied makes bile rise to my throat. Those who look upon as others as below themselves; they are the ones truly deserving of pity. If there's something that I must keep in tact, it is my dignity. My teachers at the Academy claimed that this particular stubbornness in pride was an admirable talent, which many of even the most skilled Shinigami lacked. Surprisingly, I find that awfully hard to believe.

They are mistaken if they believe that I am willing to risk everything. I'm most definitely not ready to lose.
I'm not declaring that my pride is more important than my life. Perhaps it is, I still have yet to discover. I willingly joined the 13 Court Gaurd Squads, knowing that this death sentence would be my second. And following my dignity, I accepted this fate, constant looming of death, that hangs over constantly, even as I sit on the ground daydreaming about my pride.

They say it's duty to die for your Squad.

I would only agree- duty feeds into pride.

Perhaps this naive perspective can be spitefully called "selfish", but it is true. Nobody would sacrifice life if it were not a "dignity battle." If I could get away with being a traitor, coward, deserter, I can almost guarantee that I would. A battle between wills and prides is the most bloody battle; if you lose, you lose everything.

Even as I stand, pouring out my thoughts out to him, he doesn't understand me at all. I don't want his pity, or anybody's. I only want my dignity. And by accepting his pity, my dignity will be dissolved into nothing. A person with no dignity is a bird with no wings- nowhere to go, but to grope around for left-over crumbs by the feet of the stronger and more agile.

Byakuya- I know he would scoff. But inside, I think that he would agree, too. Even so, he must save his dignity by sacrificing mine. And perhaps, that is the only sacrifice of pride that I will accept. Even if it costs me my "wings". A promise is a promise, a deal is a deal, and I'm not ready to ruin the pride of a man who showed me kindness.
Even if his kindness is some sadistic silent treatment, I still know it's there. I've known that it's been there for decades, ever since I was brought into the clan; hidden in the shadows, behind the silk haori of all the nobles. Only was it through this trivial kindness was I able to blend into the Kuchiki home, about as noticeable as a dove in downy snow.

Excuse me- I don't mean to sound like a whining child. I'm very grateful for his generosity. And I still need to repay the Kuchiki noble house for their disguised pity. The question of why I was brought to the clan is still on the table, and the only answers I have received have been thrown down as ridiculous rumors while I kneel, snivelling at the feet of the noble clan elders, waiting for my dignity to recollect before I can fly again.


A/N: A little something that I thought you might enjoy. I started watching Bleach over the winter, and it's amazing.

Still can't decide whether to continue this or not. I've been picking at it like a scab for a couple of days, reading over it meticulously, and I just can't remember where I had originally planned to go with in when I started writing. You know what would help me decide?

Heh.

You knew this was a scam for more reviews, didn't you...

But seriously, I really don't know if I have the time to continue. Please review!

Thanks