Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of the characters or settings, Tite Kubo does.
Note: Although you don't have to, if you'd like, read this story while listening to 'Alone in the Dark' by Vadim Kiselev, at the same time as 'Sounds of the Rain and Thunder on the River'. By the way, the first one is shorter than the story, if that makes sense.
That's just what I listened to while writing it . . . oh, and please enjoy!
Just a Heartbeat Later
Trapped, that's what he was. Without name, without anything to live for . . . except the fight.
Why was he born?
He was born to consume his King and take his throne. Born to destroy everything that the King fought to protect. Nothing more, nothing less. It was simple.
Is that the truth?
Kurosaki Ichigo risked Hollowfication, and he, the Inner Hollow, almost won that fight. Or so he liked to think, and keep thinking. What else was there to think about except beating the King?
And truth? What was that? Something that the Hollow didn't even consider. Truth . . . people with honour could worry about truth.
Why? Why did he do it? He could have lost his control and become a Hollow . . . he could have been killed.
The King had wanted his powers back, that was all. He wanted the ability to become a shinigami back, so he could fight, protect . . . the King always seemed to be fighting to protect. It was so pointless, someone so strong should simply seek battle, seek to destroy his enemies . . . or just fight. Why couldn't the King just fight, why couldn't he ever willingly give power over to his Inner Hollow. The destruction they would wreak would be beautiful.
Is destruction everything?
Yes, why wouldn't it be? There was nothing else that the Hollow lived for. That want for blood and battle . . . it kept him going, kept him wandering around the King's sideways Inner World. Waiting, always waiting for the chance to challenge the King to his throne.
You lost last time. Why would the next be different?
He'd trained, it didn't take much effort, and it wasn't fun at all, but he'd done it. The mirror of Zangetsu which remained constantly in his hand, rarely ever left alone, although it was nothing but a fragile copy of true power . . . that zanpakuto was the blade that he'd almost beaten the King with, even if it wasn't the true one . . . for just a second, it had been.
Why do you keep trying?
Defeat was bitter. The taste, the smell . . . everything about failure disgusted him. But why did he keep fighting? Destruction wasn't so satisfying that he'd continually risk humiliation and pain just to gain control of the body that was his prison. But there was one other thing that he lived for, suffered constant torment for . . . kept fighting the King for.
Why does she matter to you?
Petite, pale skinned, liquid violet eyes . . . everything about Kuchiki Rukia was perfect to the Hollow. Why . . . only because of the King, of course. The King had risked his life, risked the Hollowfication, in order to save that shinigami. He, the King's Inner Hollow, he'd been created for that purpose, that purpose of protecting that shinigami. No matter how delicious the battle before him looked, the Hollow was bound to that duty, bound to that need to protect.
No matter how strong the bloodlust was, no matter how much the battle called for him . . . when Kuchiki Rukia was involved, there was nothing the Hollow could think of except her. It was both a gift, a break from his own mundane existence, and a curse, because no matter how many times he saw her, she only saw the King, and she only smiled for him.
The Inner Hollow, Shiro, Hichigo, Dark Ichigo . . . whatever others tried to call him even though they knew he had no name, stood up slowly. Letting his golden gaze lose focus, he blinked once, and found himself staring out at the world through the King's eyes. Relaxing every muscle in his Hollow white body, he let himself become more of Ichigo, gave a bit of himself up, just for a moment, so that he could feel everything that the King felt.
Cool breeze, ruffling bright orange hair, causing shivers to ripple across lightly tanned skin. The smell of the afternoon, strong, but not unpleasant. Feeling . . . what was the King feeling . . . soft, smooth skin, faded scars, fresh grazes, sword calloused hands. And seeing . . . bright indigo eyes, small, hesitant smile, graceful, liquid movements. Hearing . . . honest laughter, teasing, jokes, insults . . .
Trapped, that's what he was. Trapped inside someone who didn't realise how lucky he was. How privileged he was to be able to feel, hear, see . . . to show that he cared.
Place a hand on your chest, feel your heartbeat.
He couldn't. There was nothing to feel, but he could sense the emptiness. But the King, he had a heart, and the Hollow could feel that. When he let himself lose form, he could feel Ichigo's heart, as if it were in his own chest.
And then, just to amuse himself when it wasn't raining, and when he couldn't fight anything, he'd imagine that he had a heart too. And it would beat just after the King's. A steady rhythm, a canon . . . and when his 'heart' beat, he'd imagine what it would be like to be in control of this body, and he'd wonder how it would feel to do the things that the King did everyday with such ease.
How it would feel to love . . .
'I love you,'
She says it so easily, like it's just something that is. The King replies and, just a heartbeat later, he does too, knowing that neither one of them will even notice.
Author's Note:
Mainly a monologue from Ichigo's Inner Hollow. Somehow, even though he's probably clinically insane, there are the occasional times when, just a tiny bit, you'll feel sorry for him. Still, if someday he gained control from Ichigo, I think it might lead to the end of the world or something really epic, and not in a good way, like that . . .