So basically, this story follows my character, Tomoki, after his death. This is, in fact, a Bleach fanfic, despite the lack of anything Bleach in this chapter. This chapter mainly serves as an introduction to my OC. This will be a romance story, but so far the person I plan on putting him with is undecided. And yes, I do plan on putting him with a male character. So if you don't like yaoi, this story probably isn't for you. Just a warning.

But I hope you all enjoy the first chapter~ Of course, reviews are always lovely to receive.

Imagine the sweetest lullaby in the world, sung by the softest and most angelic of voices. Hear the highs and lows of every note, pouring into you like silver water. For every syllable, go up an octave, then stop. Allow the pause to settle the chills running down your spine. Then for the next measures, go down three octaves; stop. Lower the octave. Up three. Down three. Then repeat. Simple. Slow. Powerful. Majestic crescendos, decrescendos and legatos. Beautiful. Soft. Melancholy. Now listen even closer. Listen so closely that you're not listening at all. You're feeling. The music runs in your body, flows through your veins, composes your blood.

This is how Tomoki felt about his mother's lullaby. His mother would sing to her steel blue-haired child every night before bed. From the night of his birth, to the night of his tenth birthday, she would sing. She would intone with perfect pitch the melody she created to soothe and place her darling son to sleep. How he loved his mother's voice...

In grade school, it was the only thing he would look forward to after a long, stressful day. He hated school. He hated his classmates. Feared them, even. Countless times he begged and pleaded with his parents to be home-schooled. To even attempt to teach himself the basics of math, science, history and literature. Anything to escape the taunts and mocks of all the other little boys and girls who laughed and pointed their chunky little fingers at the small boy who would rather sit and read a book rather than play kickball in the yard.

His father wouldn't hear it. When Tomoki had told him about his problems in school and how he suggested they fix it, he simply scoffed and knelt down to flick him in his forehead.

"Home-school? The Hell you wanna do that for? A couple a bullies? Listen, Tomoki, you better start sticking up for yourself. I didn't raise a little girl. I raised a boy."

Tomoki looked down at his sneakers, a slight tilt in his eyebrows. Liar. He didn't raise him. He was simply there. As far as he was concerned, he never wanted a kid, therefore everything that had to do with his son was at his wife's expense. The only reason he even bothered to show up the night of his birth was to keep face. Tomoki didn't know why he even bothered to talk to him. Maybe because his mom wasn't home.

Some nights, while lying in bed and staring up at his ceiling, he would ask his mother:

"Why doesn't Father love me?"

And like every other time he asked a question like this, she would brush his bangs aside and kiss his forehead, asking if he would like to hear a song. She asked this as if she sung any other song, or as if he had gotten tired of his lullaby. But he never did. So of course he didn't deny to hearing his favorite nighttime tune, and drifted off to sleep.

On the night of his tenth birthday, he remembered lying in bed, eyes closed. He had a content smile on his face as his mother began their nightly ritual. However, before she could reach the second verse, his father rapped the door harshly to silence her.

"That boy is too old for lullabies. How do you expect him to grow up if you keep treating him like he's five? No wonder he's such a little pussy." He beckoned her out of the room with the slight tilt of his head and walked off, grumbling under his breath. Tomoki's mother sighed heavily, looking back at him with a sad smile. She leaned down and kissed his forehead with soft, apologetic lips and whispered a final, "Happy Birthday, Tomo," before walking out, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. He hid his disappointment until she was well down the hall and out of hearing range.

Starting from the very beginning, Tomoki opened his mouth to complete the soft melody on his own. He loved that song, and refused to be without it.

"My dear boy,
Day has end.
Say good night,
Rest my friend.

Owls sing,
Nighttime songs.
Close your eyes,
And before long,

You'll drift away,
Sweet warm rest.
I pray you,
Dream the best.

Embrace the night,
And yes it's true,
None loves you,
Like I do."

It was childish. It was cliche. But he found it beautiful. And it belonged to him. Every word. Every chord. No one else's. Tomoki's song. The song his mother composed from her heart, just for him.

Days, weeks, months and years passed, and he had yet to again hear his precious lullaby. No matter how much he begged for even a taste of the sweet sound of his mother's voice, the answer he received was always the same.

"Your father wants you to start growing up a bit, Tomo. I can't treat you like a baby anymore. I still love you." As usual, he would nod down at his feet.

"I love you too." He spoke softly, waiting for her to pet his hair and walk away before shuffling up to his room and locking to door. He closed the curtains and shut off all the lights, pretending it was night outside. Then he would climb under the covers and close his eyes, before wetting his lips and opening his mouth to sing. Granted, his voice was nowhere near as angelic as his mother's, but it was something he considered to be incredibly close.

So he sung. He sung until his ribs ached. He sung until his throat dried. Until his head pounded. Until his voice cracked. His father wouldn't let him sing around the house. "Singing is for girls," he had said. This thought only made Tomoki sing louder. He didn't care how much his father hated him. If he wanted to sing, he would sing. He didn't care how old he was, or how ridiculous the song sounded to others. He loved this song. He loved his mother.

That's why, at the age of fifteen, his mother's death hit him the hardest. Her untimely passing was delivered due to an intoxicated driver, who believed driving into a fully packed coffee shop would be a fun source of entertainment. How unlucky it was for his mother to be one of the three who died in the accident. Who would've thought that something as innocent as sitting by a window to enjoy coffee would be dangerous?

Tomoki, heartbroken, stopped singing. He cried for days on end, breaking his nightly solo lullaby ritual. After a week had passed, he had realized he had stopped, but didn't continue. How could he continue tradition now that his mother was dead? It didn't feel right to him. The song had died that dreadful day, alongside his poor, unsuspecting mother.

Tomoki took on the role of "wife". He cleaned, cooked and shopped for him and his father. Everything was pushed onto him, and was now both stressed and depressed. He had gone from not ever showing signs of growing up, to growing up far too quickly. It was like he skipped a few steps in his life. His father was also deeply wounded by the loss of his wife, drinking more. She was his world, and he had no clue how to move on. He was too far gone for Tomoki to try and fix. When he had approached him for the first time about his unhealthy, alcoholic tendencies, he received a drunken smack across the face. He stumbled back, holding his stinging cheek as he looked up in shock at his father.

"What the Hell're ya doin' buggin' me for?" His words were slurred and his stance was wobbly, and his balled up fist looked ready to strike Tomoki again. "Don'chu know my wife is dead? Why won'cha just leave me alone ya unwanted little girl!" That didn't help his son's already low self esteem at all.

Tomoki didn't speak to his father after that. In fact, he didn't speak to anyone at all. And as always, none of the kids in his school offered their hand in friendship. Now a sophomore in high school, he had grown accustomed to the neglect, and didn't mind the solitude. Though he did miss the kindness and warmth of his mother, and wished to experience the same feeling with someone -anyone- else.

It seemed his entire life had turned around when he met Keiji. Keiji had seen the dead look in Tomoki's pink eyes, and offered himself as solace. At first, he was wary of the sudden offer, but he was so thrilled at the thought of someone actually wanting to be his friend, he had no choice but to smile softly and accept.

Months flew by, and Tomoki grew quite fond of his new friend. Keiji made him smile and laugh every day until the pain of his mother's passing diminished to almost nothing. He was glad he found someone he could be comfortable with, because he had more than a few things to get off his chest. Keiji listened intently as Tomoki told him his story from beginning to end. From the lullaby, to his mother, to his father's harsh parenting, to his history of neglect by his peers. Tomoki was so absorbed in his own story, he didn't realize that he was being led in the wrong direction.

He paused, stopping his walk to stare forward at the abandoned lot he found himself standing in. Footsteps were heard behind him, and he turned to face four guys -not much older than himself- walking in his and Keiji's direction. They all wore baggy pants and deep orange shirts, so he figured they were members of some sort of street gang. As Tomoki took a shy and fearful step back, Keiji went to converse with one of the members, sticking his thumb at Tomoki at one point. Tomoki blinked, incredibly confused at the situation he was in. He continued to step backwards as he was approached by the other three gang members, feeling something like a trapped rabbit about to be devoured by savage wolves.

"Keiji-kun?" His eyes grew slightly wider as he called out to his supposed friend, fear evident in his tone and face. He seemed to be incredible chummy with these people... Was he tricked? The response he received was incredibly casual, and a bit harsh. Nothing like the Keiji he was speaking to just moments ago.

"Just cough up your cash to these guys and run off. I don't need you any more. My initiation is complete." He grinned widely, giving himself a bit of an evil look. "But I gotta thank you. Because you're such a sweet, gullible, depressed little thing, you made for a good target."

The males ganging up on Tomoki got closer, as he could do nothing but stand there, giving Keiji a hurt look. He was just using him to get into a gang? He had confessed everything he had kept pent up, and this is what happened immediately afterwards? He stayed motionless as the gang members all threatened him impatiently.

"I...thought we were friends..." He said this quietly, looking down at his feet. Annoyed at this answer, their hot-headed leader pushed his underlings out of the way, walking briskly up to Tomoki and punching him with enough force to knock him to the ground.

"Are you stupid or something? What kind of baby nonsense is that? Just fork over your money already!" Tomoki refused, standing and dusting himself off.

"I only give money to charities, not cowards who have to gang up on defenseless people to make a living."

The members of the violent group obviously weren't expecting that brave remark from the meek little boy. They stood in temporary silence, taken aback, before their shock turned to rage. Shouts to stab him and slit his throat filled the air, along with other crude suggestions to cause him bodily harm. Listening to his followers, the leader flipped out his switchblade, pointing it menacingly at Tomoki. Of course, he didn't want any of those options to come to life, so he said what he thought was necessary to remove himself from the situation.

"I don't believe you have the heart to actually cause harm to someone with that, so I'll be taking my leave. I'm sorry you have to live this way." He bowed respectfully before passing the leader to walk home. If anyone else tried to stop him, he knew he was fast enough to escape. However, what happened next was something he couldn't expect to dodge.

Taking his comment as an insult, the gang leader flung his knife in a spur-of-the-moment rage, tired of being talked down to. It hit home, sinking into the departing back of Tomoki, puncturing his lung. Tomoki spat up blood, arching his back forward before dropping like a rock onto the hard concrete. His wound bled profusely, soaking and staining the back of his school uniform. He twitched and gasped for air, a high-pitched cry escaping him as he felt the knife being ripped mercilessly from his back. The gang ran as fast as they could out of the lot, leaving poor Tomoki to bleed to death.

No...I don't want to die...

Tears slid down his face as he coughed up more blood. The world blurred, now nothing but a blinding white.

"M-my dear...boy..."

White.

"Day...has end..."

White.

"Say...g-goodnight..."

White.

"Family...friends..."

Black.

This was Tomoki Masuoji. And this is the song that killed him.