Disclaimer: 'Bukan gw yang bikin bleach.' That's ' I don't make bleach' in my mother tongue.
A/n: Ah, we meet again! I can't tell you how happy I am to be starting another story. It's like having another baby to take care of, you know. A new one to lead and guide. Maa .. This time I made the chapter especially longer than any other chapters I've written before. I hope you guys enjoy it.
Night's Rivulet
Chapter 1
An Untold Life
"When first the world from chaos rose,
Tell me, then how did peace come to?
For earth's choicest spirit from the dark lie hidden by day,
And heaven ineluctably condemns their fate.
The clan of immortals,
the undead,
the cursed.
Still some good remained,
And humbly take in their fate,
Yet others lingered immovable,
Forever upbrading the gods for their blight.
For this is the cause of a millennium old battle,
resurfacing from the shadows.
Brawl for eternity, these sides will,
Until one day, salvation spills
Borne by the wind a thousand miles away,
A heart so pure that even gems took flight,
She who bears the key of existence,
And stands in between heaven and hell
Paired with a stallion like the wolf in the old fables,
Untamable, unrelenting
Who, into her savior turned when she was needy
And into her companion when she shed tears
Who, when cruelty not used, shows a gentle heart
But beware, for should her life reach the ears of the world,
A bedlam like no other awaken it would,
Two sides will come to blows for her elixir of life,
And in the end, the successor would gain no more power,
But beware,
For if she falls to the wrong hand of fate, shall the fate of the world end the same."
"- and that, is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
A boy no older than 17 flexed and stretched on his armchair. Supporting a wide yawn, he ran his fingers to his spiky orange hair before crumpling them in one swipe.
"Shut up. I spent two weeks decoding it."
With a glare close to that of an offended dignity, a girl with black hair falling a bit longer than her shoulders snapped a very old book, tattered and battered in so many places and pages shut.
"And why would you be decoding it?"
"Because –"
She shifted her grip on the book and brought it upon her chest with great care, hugging the primeval looking, age-ridden pages bound together with an equally primordial looking leather cover with a sense f pride and respect.
"- some people, unlike you, still pays good respect to ancient literature."
"Look, Rukia. Nobody practically listens to stuff like that ancient crap anymore. Why would you be bothering translating ancient runes, whose makers and listeners are all dead now anyway?"
"You're just being insufferable because you're never good in language class."
"Shut up."
They were both inside a stuffy attic which has been thoroughly dusted and cleaned, to create a sort of a personal hanging out crib.
But then a low, crisply firm voice bounded from the other corner of the room. A teenage boy, of the same age, with sparkling white hair, and glinting jade green eyes, his back propped up against the windowsill and his gaze far ahead into the world outside, shifted and stirred in his position.
"Not all of them."
"Not all of them, what?"
The girl turned her head towards him, apparently slightly confused of his sudden outbreak of response.
"Not all of them dead."
(Year 2008, the not too distant future.)
"Hey, that's your cell."
All was quiet but the rattling sound of a green painted cell phone vibrating tremulously on silent mode.
"Sorry. I didn't notice."
I plucked the cover of the tiny device up. One tiny dot of an unopened envelope icon stared right back at me. The metallic gray interior of the public train immediately scampered under the glare of such a bright green color, and hid in shame of having been totally outshone by the bright bottle green color of the small mobile phone.
"Who's it from?"
The train continued to chug and lurch smoothly along the steel railroads, offering and serving them an ever changing view of endless rooftops and the darkening evening sky as the busy city revealed its nightly wonders.
"Yamada-kun."
"What's he say?"
"Wants to know whether I'll be signing up for the school festival committee or not."
The blonde girl, about a head taller than me frowned right back at me.
"Well, are you?"
"Probably."
The girl inched closer to my ears, flinching her body in a seductively sensual way, which totally failed to hide the humongous size of her chest, before whispering.
"You know what? He must be in a real desperate of a helping hand in that committe, or he must really like you."
"Rangiku. Not every boy's like that."
"And you think he's not? Hina-chan, you're way too green on this. Trust me. Every guy's the same on this stuff."
Figuring it was pointless to argue more, I surrendered my back to the cold surface of the dull cold metal wall of the subway, feeling the slight tiredness on my feet reel away a little. My nerves stung my skin at the sudden contact with the hard surface but I ignored them. I had never felt any serious pain. I had never felt any physical pain in my whole life. Everybody around kept treating me like this glass porcelain each time I step onto their view. Everybody.
I can't remember since when had everybody around me been keeping me constantly reminded and aware to never engage myself in anything dangerous. At all costs.
I can't remember when exactly had everyone started telling me that what mattered was my safety, and in any situation, all I needed to do was pledge myself to safety.
I can't remember anything more important in my life as I know it now, except my safety.
Everything about my life is about my safety.
As far as I can remember, when I lie awake and trace away the lines and graphics leading my memory back to my past, was that this safety-belief has been seared, tattooed, and stitched into the deepest and furthest corner of my memory lane. It has been there forever. Perhaps even, ever since I had noticed my ability to remember.
My childhood days, as far as I know, didn't consist of playful tree climbing, rolling in mud, chasing other kids, pulling exhausting pranks and lying around on the beach, getting extremely tanned and smelling like mud and getting the odor of the brilliant dazzling sun smeared all over my head.
My dancing lessons were given every single day of the week. Relentless, but fun. A substitute for all the work out and physical work I've missed in the real world. I've been dancing ever since I could stand on both of my feet, and since I wasn't allowed any other form of physical practices, dancing crept its way up to my heart. Twice a week I would sit on my piano, plucking notes out of my little fingers, groping my way through the white bars by heart.
Almost every other day I would be engrossed in something handmade. Whether its pottery, or embroidery, or any other practical artworks. I particularly enjoyed knitting, and owned quite a collection of hand knitted garments.
I still go to school. Not technically. But I still learn something. My teachers come to my house everyday of my life. And as far as I remember not a single visit from them dissatisfies me. Not one of them failed to amaze me and absorb me in their world. What was I supposed to do? They were my only window to the outside world. When they teach me, when they tell me stories, my ears were their ears, my eyes were their eyes, my lips were their lips, my tongue was their tongue.
The weird part about my childhood, was that Mom made me sit in a chair and prick a needle connected with a long thin tube every 6 months and drew out my blood. I never knew what the sole purpose of the process and never bothered to ask. Having never mingled with other kids my age, I thought of this process as a completely normal day-to-day, mother-and-daughter activity. So these clueless events continued, and not until the birth of my little baby sister did I realize that Mom didn't have to inject her with the same tube every 6 months or so.
Back then I had longed for the world outside my own house, I tried to flee my home a couple of times. I wanted to taste freedom, friends. I wanted to be able to encompass anger, sadness, pain, all the misery kids my age were welled up in. Something I only get to see in movies, on TV. Somewhere out there. I didn't want to spend my lifetime caged inside, like a perfect and untouched marionette.
And the day when I hit 12 was when I begged my parents to let me go to a normal school. The memory of that day will remain forever with me. My mom had looked at me straight in the eye, no words dispatched from her lips. She had taken my hand and hugged me. I had no idea that her next words were going to change my life forever.
"Momo. School's not a safe place for you."
"But why Mom? Other kids go to school and they're okay."
"But you're not just another kid, Momo. You're-"
The serene and crestfallen face of Unohana Retsu intensified.
"- special."
"If I'm that special then you should let me join school."
That night, when I was getting ready for bed, when I had just finished punching my pillow into shape, half because I was still unrelenting over my mom's one-sided decision, and half because I personally thought that the pillow was uncomfortable, there came a knock from my door. And before I knew it, both my parents were already inside. Zaraki, and Unohana. Mom carrying my baby sister, Yachiru, and Dad had his arms around Mom.
It was then that I finally found out why Mom had to draw blood from me once every 6 months.
I was indeed special. Blessed with a special gift, the way Mom had put it.
Cursed with a special blood if you ask me.
I am the sole living person on earth, who possesses and unknown blood type. A curse that forced me into all the precautionary measures my parents pushed me in. A curse that will one day be the end of my life, if I am not careful. A curse that will keep shunting me in the dark, unless I do something, unless I fight back.
I wasn't allowed to bleed. I wasn't allowed to feel any pain. I wasn't allowed any serious inflictions or injuries. All in the sake of keeping my blood to myself.
And yet I made it till today. High school and all.
The day I entered junior high was the day where I thought my eardrums would break, my eye socket exhausted, and my lips worn out. Never before in my life, had I seen so many different faces, each shining with their own unique aspirations, noticed a different touch of frequency in so many voices that surrounded me, and talked to that many a crowd. I could remember how my heart kept its pulse drumming against my chest as I continued to explore what I had been missing for almost my entire life, and could only dream about night and day. Friends.
I had found my best mate on the 2nd week at school. She had an extraordinary chestal circumference that it was too much for her school uniform to take. She had busted most of the buttons on her white blouse by then and was worried people would start gawking at her fully shown assets. I wasn't pretty sure how we became the best of friends, because we certainly had almost nothing in common. I was a lot quieter, meanwhile Rangiku was a lot brasher, always the life and soul of a party. I guess it all started when I agreed to help her stitch the buttons back in.
And yes, we stuck together for 3 years in junior high school. Back then time had seemed like an extremely slippery soap, the more you chase after it, the more it slips away further from your grip. It went like a blur.
Like I told you, I made it till high school. Pretty much alive.
A pleasant woman's voice tingled and rebounded from the speakers above the ceiling of the gray subway train.
"Tsugi wa Kyobashi, Kyobashi desu. Migigawa no tobira ga hirakimasu. Wasure mono nai you ni, gochuui kudasai."
"We have now reached Kyobashi Station, Doors will open on the right. Please mind your belongings."
I unglued two things at the very same time. My back off the wall, and my mind off my childhood. And, feeling Rangiku's familiar palm clasp on mine, I followed my all-too-busty friend to the jostle of people mounting at the mouth of the door, each fighting for a way out.
"Stay close."
Rangiku muttered.
As easy as those words might have seemed, I had found it hard to do. I made sure I tucked everything in as I made my way through the crowd, breaking through every single obstacle and occasionally getting a few scolding glares from fellow train passengers. It wouldn't be comfortable if I accidentally nudged a stranger. Not exactly the kind of situation I would prefer myself to be in. Especially not in the middle of transportation peak hours like now.
As more and more people filed in and closed in on me and Rangiku, I began to notice the impossibility of the both of us staying together amidst all the ever-pushing group of people. I felt Rangiku's hand slip away as the blonde girl was forcefully pushed outside of the train by a hoard of poker faced businessmen in black nearby. Meanwhile Rangiku was swept outside, I was brought inside by a series of hard bump waves from the crowd and found my skin made a solid, and rather forceful contact with another person.
Immediately crumbling down to a fit of apologies, I bowed continuously while repeating words of regret. But when I looked up and met a pair of brownish orange set of eyes that clashed unequally with a flaming orange hair covering the head of the possessor, I knew for sure that I had done something wrong.
The guy was barely a year or two older than me, and was dressed in a casual black shirt that brought out the striking color of his orange hair. But he was clutching the part where her skin had deliriously made contact with, and was looking at me, gaping intently, eyes full of disbelief as if he had never imagined that someone would ever dare to touch him.
Being awkward was a total understatement of the situation. I was mortified. Toasted. Fried. Now what? What had I done? And why is this guy looking at me as if I had just risen frm the dead?
Fear gripped my insides like a human hand crushing a worthless worm. I dared not look up to see him and kept my eyes on her shoes and made another bow of apology, hoping I'd buy time and make amends, somehow. Someway.
Then a came a familiar grip on my right arm. The slight urgent and trustworthy pressure added told me that I was getting all the help I needed.
"Excuse me, but – umm, we gotta get goin' "
Rangiku seemed casual in her way of flicking off those words, but she had one pressing tone underlining her pose. One that explicitly indicated for him to stay away from her friend. He would be a dung beetle to miss such warning.
With that Rangiku pulled me onto her side and gave me a motherly furtive look before tugging the rest of my body with her.
"Wait."
The voice stopped my blood from circulating my veins. Both of us stopped dead on our tracks.
"You-"
The guy hadn't moved an inch from where he was standing and was no longer clutching his arm as if it would detach free from his shoulders if he loosened his grip, but was now waving his hand in an uncertain gesture directly at my direction. A look of urgent seriousness on his face.
"You – "
He repeated.
" – What's your name?"
The sound of a brief loud bell in dots, alerting passengers of the limited time of the halt tore the slightly emptier train.
Rangiku and I took our chance to slide further away from him, closing in on the door as fast as we could manage.
"Wait. I need to talk to you."
His voice was way above a whisper now. The guy was practically behind them, and had raised more decibels to his voice so as to make sure we could hear him, despite the obvious stares other people were shooting him. His eyes piercing under the continuously ringing bell. But the doors were unrelenting and closing fast.
Rangiku didn't buy him. With one swift lurch she pulled me out of the train towards the underground station floors. I could feel the wind from the space where the door had just punched shut on my neck before Rangiku pulled me behind the yellow safe line.
But when I turned around he was still there. Inside the train. Failed to drop off. Banging on the train's glass windows.
And as the train moved and gained speed, my eyes couldn't help but to follow his silent moving lips from the other side of the train's doors.
You have to be careful.
"What the hell was wrong with that guy?"
Rangiku snapped her bags shut after pulling out a candy from one of the pockets inside. They were walking down the silent afternoon neighborhood. The horizon was smeared blood red as the sun continued being pulled towards the other end of the world. Occasional sounds of birds flapping resounded in their ears. All was quiet but their slow footsteps echoing on the road. It has always been like that each time they went home. Walking together in that same smooth road. Always in this situation. Always under the reddening sky. Always.
And in that intersection right ahead of them, Rangiku would head right and she would trun left, and they would wave goodbye's as if they'd never get to do it again.
"You should be more careful."
Rangiku sighed as she popped the candy inside her mouth.
"It's not like I was asking for it. In case you haven't noticed, I have apologized. He just –"
Hinamori paused, She wasn't sure, but there was something very strange about that orange haired guy.
"-He's just weird."
Rangiku looked at her.
"Next time, apologize, and then leave straight away."
Hinamori stayed quiet. They've reached the end of the intersection. Like always.
"Jya, see you, Hina-chan!"
"See you too, Rangiku."
And then they parted.
It was a silent walk back home for Hinamori. Her house was the 6th building from the intersection. A distance you can cut in less than 2 minutes, but took her 5 this time.
The house itself wasn't exactly big. Nor was it small. It was subtle and fit for a family of four. Looked downright simple and yet sophisticated in its own silent way. Hinamori had always preferred seeing her house from the road on daylight. The grey paint splattered evenly all over the surfaces of the walls always hit her eyes like warm summer days under the sun. The black roof tiles too, looked astonishingly chocolate under the bright rays of daylight.
But not being the biggest house on the block certainly didn't prevent it to be the most attractive one.
The house had a full scale garden on the front. Not big, but filled with every small bushes that poke a flower out, courtesy of her mom and dad's crazed love for gardening. And the fun didn't just stop there. Vines are tangled everywhere around the lower rooftops, front walls, and some of them even grew near a window perched on the second floor of the orthogonal side of the house. A tiny wooden window that leads to her room.
Hinamori pushed the front gates open, and made her way across the green velvety blanket of grass covering the lawn. Arriving on the door steps he pushed it ajar and stepped inside, her sense of safety heightening with each push. She was home.
"Tadaima."
She greeted the house.
It responded through the form of her sweet, serene and comforting mother's voice, ringing its way from the kitchen hall.
"Okaeri, Momo."
Removing her school shoes from her feet, Hinamori noticed an object poking at the edge of her eye, begging to grab her full attention.
She knew what that object was right away.
A Barbie doll of the most stunningly ridiculous party gown she was sure to have ever flashed the world of Barbie fashion was lying face up – hair down on the floor. But the most bizarre qualities of the Barbie doll itself, Hinamori was quite unsure on how to describe.
It was carrying a handmade sword that fits the size of her minuscule palms, and had scars tore into her cheeks and pretty much two-fifth of her entire skin, ranging from minor scratch wounds until deep gashes that looked like it has been sliced into two and yet somehow magically glued together again. A red eye patch was comfortably fitted covering its left eye, and her whole sword hand was wrapped in layers after layers of taped white bandage. And, it was also carrying a roll of ropes strapped to her waist, near an extremely fluffy pink ribbon.
Her little sister's idea of an ideal warrior.
Hinamori wasn't quite sure either, of what amazes her the most about the Barbie, the fact that it still managed to survive all the torment it has obviously been put through, or the fact that it didn't seem to mind at all and still looked incredibly pretty as ever.
"Ya-chi-ru!"
Hinamori let her voice bounce and rebound around the house, throughout corridors, ceilings, and rooms, searching for that pink haired jump ball.
"Ya-chi-ru!"
Still no answer.
Fine. Ms.Killer-Barbie-Samurai-Doll will get returned to her rightful place. For the last time.
And she picked the strange doll up and walked straight to her sister's room upstairs, ascending two flights of stairs with ease and taking a left turn once she reached the second floor, bringing herself into one long and narrow corridor found mostly only aboard Japanese houses. She halted on the 2nd wooden door she found. Ignoring several out-of-the-place-posters of barbies, ninjas, pokemons, assasins, and bratz punched into the surface of the door, Hinamori turned the knob and pushed inside.
The room itself was similar with the posters on the door she just went through. It looked like a crossbreed between a little princess' kingdom, with those flying unicorns and drapes of see-through burgundy colored fabric above the bed, with a military squadron, complete with a mini machine gun a few prized artilleries at the corner, including a few wooden katanas and several wooden ninja shurikens at hand. The perfect combination ordinary mothers would never concoct or recommend their daughters to have.
But Yachiru was her sister. No matter how unspeakable her room is, or how unexplainable her liking for barbies and assassins at the very same time, she was still her sister. And will stay that way for all eternity.
Hinamori put the doll on her sister's bed, next to her other half ninja-half princess cronies.
"You're not having dinner, Momo?"
Her mother's voice from the dining room downstairs suddenly alerted her back.
"I'm not hungry, Mom."
She yelled back as she exited the room and stormed down he stairs. Once she landed on the first floor she felt the gentle touch of her mother's palm on her backbone.
"At least have some milk before you go upstairs,"
"Okay."
And she went for the fridge in the remote part of the kitchen, pulled the door open, groped her fingers along the contents of the refrigerator, telling eggs apart from her sister's chocolate bars and finally helping herself into a milk carton, and liberally poured some of the contents inside a jug standing on the kitchen cabinet.
"How was school?"
Unohana's voice poured back into her ears.
"The usual."
She took a sip.
"Yachiru's been showing me her new design of the killer barbie legacy."
"What does it look like this time?"
"Part princess, part spiderman."
"What – spiderman?"
"Tobey Mcguire, Big box office, where have you been, sweetheart?"
"No. Mom. I know spiderman. But –"
Hinamori raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes.
"- half Barbie half spiderman? What is she making next? Barbie-hulk?"
"Well, go figure, where did you think your dad's teeth floss ended up at?"
Hinamori choked on her milk. Her mom, on the other hand, snorted a guffaw.
"Look, I was joking."
Hinamori's eyes widened faster than she could blink.
"What?"
"Come on, sweetheart, you can't expect me to be serious."
"Whi-which part of it?"
" All."
Unohana started to drift away from her. Still in that serene, eyeless smile of hers.
"-Except for the part about your dad's missing tooth floss. I really didn't know where they are."
"MOM!"
"Relax, sweetheart. Drink up, get a good rest tonight."
And the 46 year old women gave her a solid fleeting hug before pushing her up the stairs.
"Oyasumi, Mom. And don't pull any of those stunts near me again."
Hinamori was swinging her door inside and flicking the lights on when she heard her dad's over-booming voice hit her eardrums like rock on a tofu.
"Hey honey, have you seen my tooth floss?"
God, she really did mean it.
Hinamori swung her bag over the desk. The black thing toppled and wrestled over a pile of biology book, and eventually won, knocking over the pile of heavy books all in one bite. Sighing slightly, she reached out to rearrange them the way they had been standing.
She then walked across the room and unfolded her dresser, pulling out a long sleeved cotton white pajamas while wriggling her arms through the sleeves. Another fruitious vibration of her mobile phone broke off, and taking her bed by jumping onto it without warning, she flicked the flap of the bright green cellphone open.
Her head crash landed on her pillow and she knocked her bolster down.
"Don't think about it too much. He's just a weirdo who's never seen someone as cute as you."
Hinamori managed a grin. But still she couldn't shake off the last words that brightly flamed orange guy supporting guy mouthed through the speeding train window.
You have to be careful.
Hinamori covered her head with the pillow.
It's been a weird day. And with her cell phone still clutched tightly in her hands, she drifted off to sleep.
"Ohayou!"
Hinamori's voice skipped and skidded down the stairs before her head appeared on the hall of the kitchen.
Unohana was already there, as always. Work day or no work day. Her long, silky black hair, which she has kindly inherited to her first daughter, braided neatly into one and her calm face smiling like yellow morning glories as she put the toaster into work. Today though, she was already dressed in for work.
"Morning shift today, Mom?"
Hinamori asked.
Unohana replied by putting peanut butter jam on top of her daughter's toasted bread. She had been working as a doctor since the day she graduated. It was her passion, her life. And in return of her loving her job, it brought her the man of her dreams one day. Her husband.
Supporting a two-inch-deep cut of a glass shard, 28 year old Zaraki Kenpachi, construction foreman/judo teacher had been rushed to the emergency room where she had to replace her friend's duty. And from there on, they just let destiny intervene.
And now they've got the two of them, living together in Osaka. Hinamori, and Yachiru. Hinamori, the first born of the family, takes a lot after her mother's serene and caring nature, with a splash of her humble heart. Meanwhile Yachiru, on the other hand, was more like her father, loud, brash, and unrelenting.
"Yes dear."
Grabbing a piece of the peanut buttered toast, Hinamori stuffed the whole loaf into her mouth.
"Leaving in 10 minutes, Mom?"
"Five. Make sure Yachiru drinks milk today for me, okay?"
With that she hurried to their dining table, where a white leather bag was waiting for her, snatched it with one swipe, and dashed to the front door.
"I'll be working full hours today, will be home late! Make sure you get home before 6. I don't want Yachiru and Dad to eat something that's cooked below 5 minutes."
"Alright. I'll be home before 6."
Hinamori watched as her mother snugged her feet inside the cradle of one black high heeled shoe, and pulled open the door to the house, leaving an abundance of blinding white ray flood the house.
"Good girl. I'm off to work! Itekimasu!"
"Iterasshai, mom."
And with one last smile accompanied by a splash of more morning sunlight, she was gone.
"Yachiru! Dad! Breakfast!"
The sun was barely out when Hinamori secured her house gates closed. The sun could still have been yawning and sulking out of the sudden job-shift change between it and the moon. With the less yellow sun light falling short to her feet, Hinamori checked her bag for all her school properties before grabbing the small wrist of her jumpy, bobby pink haired little sister of hers.
Yachiru is always full of life. Contrary to her, who has always preferred to be on the gray side of vivacity. But they're sisters, and sisters possess an invisible bond perhaps stronger to that of a spiderman's web, or a troop of marine infantries, the way Yachiru had put it.
To Hinamori though, her little sister was her jack-in-the-box. She scared her sometimes, but mostly, she was lively and full of surprises. She wouldn't want to have replaced with anybody in the world.
The morning walk to the junction where Rangiku was already waiting for them didn't take long. Soon enough, the 3 of them were already walking side by side towards the subway station. Their daily means of transportation.
"Ohayou! Rangiku nee-chan!"
Yachiru dashed away from Hinamori and collided head first into the busty babe. She liked to do that.
"Ohayou, Yachiru-chan, did you cut your hair? You look different."
"No, I didn't cut my hair-"
And off they went, to the entrance of a new day. An ordinary day for the other two. But the start of a very unexpected journey, for Hinamori, the girl blessed with a cursed blood type, and for a group of other people, whose four sets of eyes has been following her from the moment she left the house. A group of young people who sat propped up in the high rooftops of several houses in the area, watching her movements as she moved through dispersed morning crowds.
The first of them, the guy with the orange hair, and equipped with an equally blazing orange eyes.
Kurosaki Ichigo.
The second of them, a girl with straight black hair falling loosely down to her shadows and eyes as dark as the night, wrapped in a blue overalls with bunny icons on it.
Kuchiki Rukia.
The third of them, a guy dressed with shirts and collars, with glinting glasses and a strange hair do.
Ishida Uryuu.
And the last of them, a guy with satin silver hair, bright glinting jade green eyes, dressed in a black jacket, over blue shirt. He was leaning against a satellite antenna on a roof. His green eyes following the gentle breeze of air sweeping past her.
Hitsugaya Toushiro.
All of them had intent, fixed, and rapt attention on her, but only the last one wondered of the unknown perilous path that was to be walked upon by her legs as her destiny unveils.
The day had grown mature enough for the sun to return to, its blazing sunset sky stretching far above the horizon, floating like a soluble, blood red substance. Some scattered bits of light peeked inside a lonely class room, on the second floor of a pearly white high school building, where Hinamori was still being held captive by her detention.
She knew it was wrong to be studying math in English class, but she needed to upgrade her math grades so badly that she couldn't help it. Besides, everybody does that all the time and they never get caught. She was just in a really bad situation, in a bad time, and across a very bad mood-day of the teacher. Call that being unlucky.
So, yes, it was cleaning the classes for her. Not a very striking detention, but she regretted it all the same. She needed to get home fast and cook omelettes for her Dad and her little sister. Hinamori leaned her mopping stick against the wall and glanced at her watch. It was five minutes past five. Not a good idea to be sticking around at school.
Hinamori stopped looking at her wrist watch and gave the whole class a sweeping look. She had done a pretty good job there. She should probably get going.
Wheeling herself around, and picking her schoolbag, she spun around and skidded towards the exit, and into the darkening narrow corridor outside where traces of the hot, noisy afternoon still lingered.
Sliding the door close with one hand, a sudden movement swiftly nudged the corners of her eyes, pulling her eye muscles to the source of distraction.
A white, skinny little rabbit was hopping up and down the hallway. It didn't look like it was lost. In fact it looked as if it knew the way on that passage by heart. It stopped a few meters away from her feet, stood up on its tiny little hind legs, and started honking its peach colored little button of a nose at her direction.
"What are you doing here, little fella?"
It must be one of those school rabbits, again. Yesterday 3 gray ones broke free from their respective cages inside several classes and caused quite a stir on the learning and teaching process that is usually very stationary.
Hinamori bent down and picked up the little white ball of fur. That was when she noticed that this white bunny had quite a distinctive trait on its forehead. A black stripe, crossing the white space above her eyes. In a moment's fleeting glance, she had thought that the stripe looked incredibly like a human's fringe. Weird.
"Let's get you back before somebody reports you missing, okay?"
And Hinamori tucked it inside her hug, and dashed to the nearest rabbit cage. Pulling one of the small creaky gates open, she pushed the white rabbit, who probably had no intention of getting returned to its cage, since it was thrashing and kicking, inside the small cage.
"There you go."
A few minutes later, Hinamori was already outside of her school building, and was hurrying to her usual subway station.
The subway station was packed with waves after waves of people in all shapes, sizes and colors. Even at the entrance. Hinamori fought her way inside and under, and couldn't believe that she made it safely inside the train which would shortly be bringing her home.
The inside of the train was just as crammed as it was outside. She was barely snuffed inside when she heard the lady's voice on the speaker warning them of the doors closing. And when they closed, Hinamori saw something outside that struck her as peculiar.
A white eagle, with bluish feathers falling delicately onto both of its wings, was perched on top of one of the ticket boxes. Its sharp, bead like eyes was scanning the underground vicinity, and its head was moving around fast, occasionally clicking and unclicking its beak.
What are the odds of an eagle, let alone a white one with bluish streaks, sitting on a ticket box in a subway station in Osaka?
But Hinamori had no time to comprehend such weird probabilities. The train had began to lurch and she had to focus every bit of her body, to maintain a stabile standing position so as to not bump herself to anybody.
"Tadaima!"
Hinamori hastily threw her school bag aside and rushed to the kitchen, knocking the dinner chair aside and a few pots and pans on her way to the fridge. She has 7 minutes before 6 o'clock. A close shave. Hinamori pulled out four light brown eggs, summoned up a bowl and started whisking them into shape, cluttering paprika, onions, mushrooms and hams at the same time, and setting them on the cutting pad before dicing them to small pieces and then adding the whole bunch to the whisked egg.
"Onee-chan. Osoi zo."
You're late sis.
"Wakatteru. Demo shimpai surunda. Ima gohan wo tsukuru kara. Onaka hetta ka, yachiru?"
I Know. But don't worry, I'm making dinner now. Are you hungry Yachiru?"
"Not really. But you're late."
"Sorry. The omelettes will be ready before you know it. Go help set up the table or something for me, okay?"
Yachiru's bright pink hair wobbled as she nodded and started pulling plates and spoons and forks and arranging them in their varnished wooden dining table.
Hinamori put her mother's pan and kitchen appliances to work. Within minutes, she had the whole kitchen smelling like omelletes.
"Ne, nee-chan? Look."
Yachiru had finished setting up the table. At great speed. She was now looking and pointing outside of the wooden rimmed glass window which lets them gaze outside to the streets from their warm little kitchen.
Hinamori suspended adding extra pepper on her omelettes mid-way, and averted her eyes to the direction which Yachiru had pointed out to her.
"What is it?"
She followed the line of yachiru's finger and then saw a white, silvery dog with features which resembles a snowy wolf, sitting across the streets in front of their house. It's silver coat seemed to sway and glint under the golden sun set ray.
"Whose dog is that?"
Hinamori scanned the inside of her memory. She didn't recall any of her neighbors owning such a composed looking dog. Siberian Huskies aren't native to Japan, for one thing. And seeing those foreign breeds walking along on the streets, practically alone, was kind of odd.
"I don't know. But it's probably somebody's."
Yachiru was looking at her older sister, her eyes twinkling with glee and hopefulness.
"Don't you think it might be a stray dog? Can we keep it? It's cool."
Hinamori weighed her chances. No way such a different looking dog could be just another ordinary lovable stray dog. That dog must have an owner to it.
"I don't think it's a stray, Yachiru. Strays don't look that cool."
She could hear her little sister sigh beside her, and slid slowly to the chair.
"And to think like I could finally have such a cool dog."
Hinamori smiled and brushed a strand of hair from Yachiru's possibly innocent puffy, pouting face.
"Not all things go as we want them to, you know."
"OH! I forgot! Rangiku-chan called and asked whether you've managed to get those used cans for the art project?"
"God. No. I haven't –"
Hinamori was positively fidgeting. She was spinning around the room and looked quite taken aback with the news.
"- Yachiru, do you mind eating dinner alone? Dad'll be home real soon. I have to go collect those cans and get some paint supplies, okay?"
And without further ado, she rushed past her little sister, snatching her wallet and cellphone out of her bag as she proceeded through her house's front door.
"Itekimasu!"
"Iterasshai!"
Yachiru's small, squeaky little voice jumped straight back at her.
"Be home soon! Or I'll beat your ass!"
Hinamori stopped dead.
"And I'll beat your ass straight back at ya! You little nit!"
And they both laughed. Yachiru going back to the kitchen hall, and Hinamori sailing her way down the streets.
A few minutes later, Yachiiru was halfway chewing bits of omelette inside her mouth when she noticed something.
"Are? The dog's gone."
"Where's Rukia? I thought she was supposed to be arriving with her."
"That was the plan, yeah. But I didn't see her with her in the train. She was alone."
The crossroad looked deserted
"Dammit. That girl always gets us worried."
"I'll find her."
"No-"
Ichigo suddenly yanked the back of Ishida's collar.
"-you're not going ."
He glared at him for a moment, making sure the other got his point clean and clear.
"Not without me."
He added that last bit, grinning widely as the look on his friend's face changed.
"Dammit Ichigo."
And the two of them set foot north of the crossroad. Ichigo turning back after a few moments of silent jogging.
"Toushirou! We'll be leaving the rest to you then!"
A boy with short, spiky silver hair discontinued leaning against the walls of the houses located on the cross road. His eyes flashed green and his glare shot in between his two friends. Dammit those guys.
But that was 35 minutes ago.
The sun had fully retreated behind the safety of the horizon and leaving a starry, twinkling dull gray sky forward for the city to nestle with. Night time has arrived, its enchanting lullaby putting one hemisphere of the bustling city of Osaka to sleep while encouraging others to wake up from its slumber. Tonight was no different from any others, or so everybody thinks.
For destiny intervenes tonight. For tonight, and tonight only, shall the first part of the millennium old prophecy take place.
Hinamori was exiting a brightly colored shop, already robbed off its customers due to the aging night. Within her hands she was holding tight a plastic bag inlaid with tubes of several acrylic paints, and another smaller bag jingling with used cans. After muttering a merry thank you and bowing herself respectively out of the shop, Hinamori continued strolling down the lonely road home. She peeked at her watch. It was 8 minutes to 7. She should hurry and get home soon.
Her neighborhood was the quiet part of the night hemisphere, one that falls immediately asleep as soon as the streetlamps were lit. And as she traveled down the familiar path, shadows of buildings and street lamps started to fall over her own, deforming the shape of her own shadow. Hinamori almost jolted out of shock when her cell phone vibrated inside her pocket. She took it, flipped it open, and read the new text message.
It was from her dad.
"Hurry up and get home soon. We saved a bowl of ramen for you, and your omelet. Your Mom wouldn't like it if she's home and you're not. Return home safely dear."
Hinamori smiled. Her Dad always had that touch within his grip. He may look strict, savage even, at some point, but he's all warm and fuzzy inside.
She knew she has got to return home safely, or her blood won't sustain. She knew.
Hinamori quit looking at her shoes and stared up the road ahead. Another cross road coming up ahead. She still needed to get through at least 4 more cross roads before she reached her house. When she walked past the cross road and proceeded onto the next one though, one street lamp seemed to flicker tremulously.
At first, Hinamori thought it was just a trick her eye was playing on her, like those glimpses of lightning you tend to see in the dark when you're blinking too fast. But clearly it was not, since the street lamp died within a few a seconds, and it was followed by the death of more than 3 other street lamps ahead of her. Hinamori looked around, fear suddenly got hold of her heart. But the houses around her looked fine. None seemed to have been plunged into complete darkness, only the street lamps alone remained dead.
The road suddenly seemed to be cropped out of a silent movie. Everything seemed soundless. The wind, the chatter of the town, everything. Nothing.
Hinamori gripped the plastic bag tighter, causing the sound of plastic pressing against each other to surface in the overwhelmingly quiet neighborhood. She shivered. She didn't like the idea of making the only visible sound in the quiet neighborhood.
But as soon as the crispy sound of her plastic bag subsided, she heard something else that drove the blood out of her spine.
Footsteps. Loud and clear and resounding and echoing in the distance. Dry. Lifeless. Dessicated.
Her instincts were shutting down her rational thoughts and her brain. They were taking over her brain functions, but she was having a hard time letting her instincts get in charge of her body. Her logic was telling her to stay clam, meanwhile her instincts, added with a surge of outmost adrenaline that's only been pumped a few seconds ago to her veins, were telling her to panic and get herself out of there.
And then she heard another thing.
A scream. A scream that pierced the empty and hollow heart of the night. Blood-churdling, bare and sore.
And it was coming from the left turn of the cross road. It was coming from her west, at least 20 meters from her spot. Hidden on the south part of the cross road was her, alone, waiting.
Hinamori was suddenly frozen solid to the ground. Now fear has won her body over to its side. Interlocking her bones and joints and muscles, keeping them from making any movements.
The scream continued, and Hinamori felt the hairs on her back stand out as she felt her heart beat a hundred miles per hour. She needed to make a run for it. Desperately.
Feeling like a thousand hairy legged spiders were crawling up her spine, Hinamori opened her jaw to scream. Only she never got to do it.
A hand, out of nowhere suddenly seized her lower jaw and clasped them tight with her upper one as it covered her lower face from her nose downwards. Hinamori attempted to scream, but her own voice cord didn't fancy cooperating with her brain, for they were intimidated by her instincts and coiled up in fear for what was about to happen next .No sound came out of her. Not even a strangled cry. The grip on her plastic bag loosened and it fell with a loud clatter that shattered ear drums.
What the-
She was shoved towards the nearest wall, her head banging slightly on the concrete wall as whoever owns the hand that was covering her mouth thrusted her upon it, locking her body down. She was trapped, between the body of her attacker, and the concrete wall. Automaticallly she launched herself into self defense mode, kicking and freeing herself away but the other was unrelenting.
Hinamori blinked, a small tear escaped her eyes, and saw a set of sparkling, spiky white hair, and a pair of bright green eyes staring back at her. She suddenly ceased trying to scream, and ceased all acts to dismantle her attacker.
Her heart beat slowed down. And her breath intakes lowered.
For she found assurance in his eyes. Not malevolence, not wickedness, not immorality.
Whoever he was, he was looking at her intently. His eyes fixed at hers with such rapid attention that she found it hard not to faint under such an intense gaze.
Slowly he released his palms from her mouth, and then ran a finger towards his own lips, making a point that the finger settled vertically upon his lips. He then put his fingers across her lips too, and his own lips formed a gentle, almost inaudible shushing sound.
The next thing she knew, he was holding her head, and hugging her across his chest. Brown eyes widened in shock. But then she witnessed something that stopped her blood from circulating.
Something. Someone, was eating another human. A tall guy disguised in a cloak blacker than night itself. He was brooding over another man, in his jerseys and jeans, and the glow of the moon illuminated upon the dropping crimson liquid dripping from his teeth, and the bite mark on the neck of the victim. He was sucking him dry. More blood was glowing on the wall in forms of lurid splashes. And wild ferocious screams escaped the lungs of the victim as if a chainsaw pushed itself to his neck.
And those were the last thing she remembered before his palm shielded her eyes.
Hinamori's whole body trembled. The white haired guy seemed to have noticed this, for he pulled her closer onto him, holding his grip tighter into her small, fragile body. She was safe with him. Hinamori felt numb and cold, and no matter how firm she shut her eyelids together, she couldn't seem to get that the image of those dripping blood, those teethering white fangs, as sharp and as deadly as a wolf's, and those white, red eyes that screams with lust.
Her breath quickened, and her pulse following the same pace, and her pupil dilated everywhere.
She screamed.
A/n: there it is! I hope this chapter compensates for my really LATE update on chronicles of the past, im SO VERY TRULY SORRY for that…. Please forgive this lowly writer and blame the said writer's school…. Haha. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it, more drama , fluff and romance and (a bit) thriller comin up!