This is more like an announcement. Some have asked me about my stories, Cherry Blossoms In The Moonlight and Forever Yours.

I have taken them down, but they are not abondoned. Rather, I've written on them the whole time and now I can proudly declare that they are complete. Only the epilouges are still missing. So that this time, I can promise you that they will actually be finished.

Also, both have been connected so that they both play in the same universe, but both are still seperate stories. Well, you will see.

In one week, I plan on posting the first chapters. Before that, they need to go through last grammar and spelling corrections. Originally, I planned to post them much earlier, but I was away during the holidays and had no time to work on them.

Enough said, I do hope everyone will enjoy the new stories. Notable improvements made are more IC Aizen, Ichigo and Byakuya, a more understandable storyline and a few interesting new twists. Also, the stories have become insanely long, so long that I'm asking myself how in the world I could ever have written so much...

And because author notes without an actual story are forbidden, the old stories are below. But only for comparison. These are still the old, unfinished stories.

Well, if you want to, I'll see you in a week.

(Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach...)

Warnings: If you haven't read my stories yet then you should know that they contain Yaoi (manxman) and are pretty much AU.

Pairings: Forever Yours (AizenxIchigo), Cherry Blossoms In The Moonlight (ByakuyaxIchigo)

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Forever Yours (Old)

--Prologue--

--Beginning dream scene--

The world outside resembled the feelings of the person watching the display. A storm was raging, lighting the pitch-black night. It had suddenly appeared, as if out of nowhere. The weather had been clear before, the sky dark and starless, with only the blue moon offering guiding light: like he hated it the most. How dare nature be calm when he was not?!

Now, puffy grey clouds hid any brightness, as if they wanted to paint the world obsidian, never mind that they were the only thing offering protection against the wind that blew mercilessly, uprooting flowers and smaller trees.

Even though it did nothing to calm him, he mused, the storm did suit his state of sanity better.

He wasn't blinding like the sunshine that warmed people's hearts, he wasn't gentle like the soft, warm breeze, and he wasn't serene like the freshly fallen snow. No, he was the tornado: something that destroyed and took, somehow still managing to look fascinating. Thunder roared, interrupting his thoughts, its cracking sound echoing over the landscape that was eerily silent otherwise.

Soul Society, the last refuge of the dead, hadn't seen anything quite like it. Normally, the sun would always shine- light and pale instead of the blinding intensity it had on Earth. That's why it was no surprise that almost everybody had retreated to their houses, cowering together, fearing the vicious wrath of nature. All but him.

In the window, he could see his own hard and cold eyes staring back at him. Because of the dim light, they didn't look like the orbs ordinary humans possessed. Other than that though, he appeared like any other normal child. For him, that was just fine. Let everyone underestimate him, no one had to know his innermost emotions and thoughts. They were just for him to know. Well, him and one other person.

Quickly, he glanced at the place where his bed stood. There, a small creature was huddled under the covers, shivering every now and then. His gaze softened at the sight and a small smile threatened to appear on his face. Swiftly, he turned around again, indifferently surveying the garden that belonged to their house.

"Onii-san…"

--beginning flashback--

"Ichi-nii? Where are you?" the small, frightened voice pierced through his mind like no scream could, ending his dream. Rubbing his red and puffy eyes, the boy tried to be as quiet as possible. His hideout – the hollow inside of an old tree – was a good one, so hopefully they wouldn't find him. Seeing them now would only break him more than he already had been.

"Please come out…" the sentence trailed off and even though the little one couldn't see the person speaking, he could hear the tear-filled tone.

It made him all the more miserable. Everything that had happened had been his fault… How was he to ever face them with that knowledge? Listening to the muffled sobs, his heart clenched painfully. That day, his life had been destroyed. Now all that was left for him was gut-wrenching guilt.

Because of his stupid mistake, his mother was now dead. He had killed her, like a filthy murderer. He had never wanted something like that to happen. To make up for his mistake, to finally be rid of his cowardice, he had tried to endure her funeral. Really, he had tried his best, but when he had seen her coffin, he hadn't been able to stay. All those feelings of regret and pain had come back, leaving him with no other choice but to run.

What he didn't understand was why the rest of the family didn't blame him for what had happened. Couldn't they see that she would still be alive if it hadn't been for him? Nevertheless, they were just as sad as he was; so unbelievably sad. Sometimes, the boy couldn't believe they still had tears left to cry; they could have filled an ocean… Wasn't that enough for one lifetime? Was his mother in heaven angry with him? Sure, his father had said that she would always watch over them, but what if she never wanted to look at her only son again?

"If only I was stronger, I could change the past…" the small child mumbled to himself, burying his face in his arms.

All around him, the sweet, musky scent of wood did its best to sooth him, to lull him back into a healing sleep where no bad memories threatened to shatter his young heart. Soft noises could be heard from the outside. It seemed it was raining. Wasn't his Mum's grave going to be wet? Wouldn't she be lonely where she was now? Without them all, without her family?

Didn't they belong together? Before her death, the boy had thought so.

Fluttering softly once, his eyelids slowly shut. Drifting away into sleep, he never heard the desperate calls of his sisters or when the rain developed into a real storm. Like any human his age, he didn't acknowledge that his 'dream' wasn't just a normal dream. Nonetheless, his life would soon change and his real destiny, one carefully hidden until this point, would unfold.

--Beginning dream scene—

Flowers unlike any that humans had ever seen bloomed majestically in the garden. Some of them reached as high as a grown man, as if trying to catch a glimpse of the heavens they would never get the chance to see.

He adored their beauty, the sweet smell they radiated. And he could understand their desire for perfection. Like humans, they wanted to be loved and, of course, taken notice of. Maybe he read too deeply into a few simple plants, but whenever he saw them, he was overwhelmed with the wish to shine like them.

A stupid wish, really, because one day, they would age and wither away, their colourful petals merely tiny particles of dust in the air. They would be forgotten; nobody would care for them anymore. To be forgotten… He chuckled humourlessly before a scowl settled on his face. If no one gave a damn about you in the first place, how could you be forgotten?

Taking in the sight of the black and white shaking trees, of the flowers he had treated with so much care before, he turned his back to the window. What a disgusting scene. Well, everything here was pitiful, he concluded, grimacing slightly. The sight of their residence may fool outsiders, but he knew better.

This snow-white building made of marble, surrounded by a picturesque garden standing on a little, lonely hill, was nothing but his own personal hell- a prison from which he couldn't escape. This estate symbolised all the invisible chains that bound him in place, all the things he hated with a fierce passion…

Of course, he wasn't the only one who had noticed that this place wasn't what it seemed to be. Often, the stories from frightened women gossiping about the unnatural chill enveloping the house would reach his ears, though it wasn't as if he cared. After all, they stayed away, didn't they? These were the lands of his family, one of the four noble Clans of Soul Society.

For generations, only Shinigami with the finest spiritual power had been bred by this stock. Anyone who posed the threat of tainting their ancestors' name was eliminated. And that was the reason why the most important thing in his life would soon be taken from him. Unwillingly, he turned around again, staring at the trembling bundle on his bed.

"Don't cry," a small voice said slowly. Sorrowfully, he watched the white fingers clutch the blankets tighter, wrapping them around a slim body.

"I'm not," he replied softly. A huff came from the one he was speaking to.

"Your eyes say otherwise. Onii-san… It will be okay. I believe in you. While I'm under your protection, nothing can happen…" the tiny figure stopped abruptly as another thunder roared.

Looking away in shame, he bit his lip. There was nothing he could do; he was just too weak to save the one thing that mattered to him. And gazing into those trusting eyes, he was painfully aware of his own inadequacy. Everything will be okay… A lie told by a five year old boy, spoken in order to soothe him, the one who was supposed to be offering the comfort. Words like those wouldn't come true… Everything would not be all right again, not for him. Sometimes, you just can't wake up from your nightmare.

The beautiful white mansion, a good distance away from any other house, was a place rumoured to be a bad dream in itself. Even though one of the most influential families in Soul Society lived there, the manor's history was one full of pain and misery.

Whispers about that house were always floating about. Legends of people that had disappeared inside, stories of sounds similar to the wailing cries of the damned coming from within…It had been a long time since anyone had dared to come too close to the lands surrounding the building. Nobody could rescue the two boys that were trapped inside of the manor. No one knew of their desperate circumstances.

--Continuation of the flashback--

"Wake up," someone whispered into his ear, hot breath tickling his sensitive skin. Long, thin fingers were playing with a streak of his hair, while the other arm was slung around his waist. Part of his body was rested on a comfortable lap and his back was leaned against a hard chest.

Although the aura surrounding the person seemed warm, he knew this wasn't his Dad, but a stranger who must have found him. Yelping at the thought, he opened his eyes instantly, staring up at an unknown face fearfully. Dark brown eyes, almost black in their intense colour, were regarding him with an unreadable expression. 'Handsome' was the first word that came to the boy's mind. But the fear was stronger than the astonishment.

He hastily tried to move away, only to have arms tightening around him, restraining his movements efficiently. Even though his lower lip began to quiver and his body started to shake, the little one found himself drawn to those eyes. Irises that were supposed to be brown, but appeared an endless black in the dim light of the fading day examined everything, every little detail taken into account and analysed. Those eyes were dangerous; anyone who looked into them could see that clear enough. Maybe it was because of the sharp intelligence they displayed.

Not the subtle resourcefulness of awareness, not the shining twinkle of the wisdom old people attained, but a pure, destructive mixture of knowledge and sapience that resembled the look of a predator prepared to lunge at its prey. Something that could beat others effortlessly and bend minds to its will, never mind it was all hidden behind a pair of normal-looking glasses.

Pale skin glistening in the darkness, contrasted the image sharply- giving the man an ethereal glow, making him look frail, strong, and unreachable all at the same time. His face was perfectly moulded with aristocratic, elegant features that formed a breathtaking entity. Thin, but soft lips were curled upwards, forming a knowing smirk that would unsettle anyone.

Fine, chocolate-coloured hair fell naturally over delicate eyebrows of the same colour. The white cheeks were tinted with just the barest hint of rose, proof that even he was made of flesh and bone, despite his unearthly appearance. Muscular arms were holding the boy securely in their embrace.

"Don't worry, I won't do you any harm…" the adult breathed. Was it only the child's imagination, or was the other frowning thoughtfully?

"Sir, please let me go…" he pleaded quietly, instantly hating his own abjectness.

"Why were you sleeping in a tree? It's dangerous to wander around alone in the middle of the night," the tall male said, seemingly in a kindly manner.

Shivering, the little one's hands grabbed the man's weird haori. All in all, the stranger that had found him wore very unusual clothes. Before he could find the courage to answer, another person appeared.

"Aizen-sama, what about our mission?"

Whimpering, the boy buried his face into the brunet's chest, not used to seeing silver locks. No human possessed hair like that; surely, that male had to be a demon!

"This is just my friend. Do not fear him," his hair was petted soothingly while the words were spoken.

Shyly, the child dared to take another peek at the newcomer. He wasn't as beautiful as his companion, but was charming in his own way. Still, there was something fishy about him. The stranger's most distinguishing characteristic was his face; it was completely unique. A wide grin was spread over it, eyes closed, rendering the orange-haired child unable to make out an eye colour. Had he not been human, this man could have very well have been a fox. He resembled the animal more than a little. Or was it just his imagination?

"Adorable! Your prey looks like a deer caught in the headlights…" the silver-haired figure chuckled. The boy stiffened visibly, breath hitching.

"Don't do that," the brunet's voice sounded, stern and commanding, though not really angry.

"I-I h..have to go home…" the youngster stuttered, struggling out of the hug he had been caught in. Almost unwillingly, the dark-haired male allowed him to wiggle out of his hold.

"We will accompany you then," the one named Aizen said, determination lacing his tone. Taking two steps back, the child shook his head fervently.

Should he run now? To be truthful, he didn't want to be in the presence of those two any longer, but he couldn't go home right then. He was sure his father and sisters would be terribly angry and upset with him.

"He insists."

Fox-face, the nickname the boy had silently given the other male, said.

"No, I don't want that! Go away!" the orange-haired lad shouted, in a whiff of bravery. Sadly, that didn't seem to offend the strangers at all, on contrary, both seemed to be amused by it.

"My parents told me to never speak with strangers…" he added uncertainly.

"We can't let a little wet brat go anywhere alone in the middle of the night, now can we?" the slit-eyed figure grinned, his tone laced with irony.

Slowly bowing his head, the young boy inspected his clothing. It seemed like the tree had let some of the water through, because the fabric clung awkwardly to his skin, making it itch. All he wanted was to disappear at that moment, to be inside the hollow tree again, safe and protected from stares and questions. There was something wrong with those men, he couldn't quite place it, but his instincts told him so.

On the other hand, his instincts hadn't warned him not to try rescuing that child, which had resulted in his mother's death. So, maybe he was wrong and the adults only wanted to be nice? Hesitantly, while rubbing his hands together to warm himself, he nodded.

"B-but I have to go somewhere else first…"

--Scene shift--

Looking at the grave made of solid stone, the boy could barely hold back his tears. Here, just a few hours ago, they had laid his mother to eternal rest. There had been many white flowers. People, so many of them, had been sobbing hysterically. And, of course, his father, the look in his eyes unreadable, and his sisters…

Kneeling down, he looked at the lilies placed on her sepulchre. The photo of her smiling face was missing, he mused. How was everyone to remember now how she had been, as shining as the sun? Even though he was feeling uneasy with the two strangers watching his every move, he had to do this before he went home.

"Mum, I'm so sorry! I really didn't want you to die, I didn't…I already miss you so much that it hurts. I know it's a bit too much to ask for, but could you one day watch over me too? Will you forgive me eventually?" he whispered. As his first tear fell – a glistening crystal in the dull landscape – it began to snow. Petals of the purest white fell, melting in his hair.

"Those are tears of forgiveness. Seems like your wish was granted," the silver-haired male grinned. And this time, the child answered with a smile of his own.

--Scene shift, a bit later--

"Ichigo! Ichigo!" Yuzu, a little girl of five years, cried, hugging her older brother fiercely.

"Dad was so worried! He is still looking for you…" she continued. Ashamed from making his family worry, the boy lowered his head.

"I'm sorry…" he replied, his tone crestfallen.

"Kurosaki Ichigo…" the voice interrupted, its tone quiet but sharp.

Turning around, the little one looked at the brunet. For one moment, their eyes met, before the man turned away.

"We will be going now. Until we meet again."

Nodding on the outside, the orange-haired boy frowned inwardly. Had it only been his imagination, or had there been some unknown emotion, akin to sorrow in those soft dark eyes? No, it couldn't have been similar to the look his mother had always given him. Just as the two figures disappeared into the darkness surrounding them, he remembered that he hadn't even thanked them…

--Flashback end, in the present--

"Kurosaki-san! Sleeping in my class isn't allowed!" the shrill cry jostled him awake with a start. Looking around dazedly, he noticed some of his classmates snickering at him. It was now that he took in the entire situation: he had fallen asleep! During a test!

"Sorry…" he muttered, even if it was just so that his glaring sensei would calm down a bit.

Why had he had that dream? It couldn't have been a real memory… But why had it all seemed so real? Although he wasn't a brat anymore and his mother's funeral had been years ago, he had felt every emotion so intensely that it was frightening…

"Is there still a problem? Your paper is empty and you only have twenty minutes left…" his teacher growled. Although he nodded solemnly, he didn't begin, but spared Kuchiki Rukia, one of his best friends, a quick glance. She was gazing at him with worry, her delicate features twisted into a frown. Normally, it was him who did all the frowning.

Well, considering his dream… Heck, he had to stop thinking about it! There was no chance in hell he had met Aizen and Gin before he went to Soul Society. His mind had made those images up because he was tired. Right, there had been many Hollow incidents lately…

"Eighteen minutes left."

…So, why did he suddenly have the dark, foreboding feeling that there was more to his 'vision' than met the eye?

--Scene change, present, somewhere else--

The exquisite scarlet red of the wine in his hand glistened in the white of his throne room. Like pearls of blood splattered over virgin snow, it contrasted beautifully.

Staring ahead, the man clothed in the purest of white smirked malevolently. Everything was set now… The real game could begin. And he wouldn't be the one to lose; his plan was perfect, after all- as unblemished as the beauty of his beloved. So sinfully gorgeous, wild and untamed…

Soon, all of Kurosaki Ichigo would belong to him. That had been clear since the first time he had laid eyes on him.

"What irony, though. I am the one giving myself the greatest weakness…"

Twirling the glass in his hand around, Aizen sighed. He only had to wait a little bit longer. It was only a matter of time now. After all, he had waited for so long, patiently, like any good strategist.

"They will not have you…" he hissed quietly. No one else would have his angel. The human was his to treasure alone. And he didn't like to share. With anyone.

--Scene shift, present, unknown place--

Slowly, glowing eyes, resembling the bluest azure sky, opened. Carefully, the figure sat up, looking down at his bed. So, it was time already?

He had been waiting for a very long while. Now, history would once again repeat itself. A war was about to begin- his chance to punish those that had dared defy him.

A cruel smile spread ever his face. Everything was set. The traitors would pay.

(End Prologue)

„Someone is thinking of you. Someone is calling you an angel. This person is using celestial colours to paint your image. Someone is making you into a vision so beautiful that it can only live in the mind. Someone is thinking about the way your breath escapes your lips when you are touched. How your eyes close and your jaw tightens with concentration as you give pleasure a home. These thoughts are saving a life somewhere right now. In some airless apartment on a dark, urine stained, whore lined street, someone is calling out to you silently and you are answering without even being there. So crystalline. So pure. Such life-saving power when you smile. You will never know how you have cauterised my wounds. So sad that we will never touch. How it hurts to know that I will never be able to give you everything I have." By Henry Rollins

--Chapter 01--

--Present, in school—

Little clacking noises blended in with the sight of the clear, azure-blue sky. No clouds hid the bright, cerulean colour. Such nice weather today! Surely, spending time outside would be enjoyable. Soon, he would be free to do so…

Cursing under his breath, Ichigo looked at the pencil, only to find that there was nothing but pieces of it left, scattered on his desk. Another, already the third one that day…Funny how his insides were in turmoil on a day like this.

"Is there a problem?" his teacher asked. She sounded really annoyed. It took some time for the teenager to finally realize she was speaking to him. After all, he hadn't been behaving decently all day. Shaking his head slightly to show her that everything was just fine, he settled on looking around.

Everyone's eyes were focused on their own desks, different kinds of hands writing busily, some with happy, others with suffering expressions. In graceful or sloppy handwriting, words were written down. Kanji after Kanji, until they formed sentences and the sentences formed the test they were supposed to be doing at the moment.

His fingers drummed on the desk like they had been doing all this time, while his gaze strayed to his own paper. White and empty, he could imagine it glaring at him accusingly. 'You have studied; you know at least some of the answers…so why don't you begin? What is occupying your mind?' it seemed to say.

Yeah, what was bothering him again? That question had an easy enough answer. Why had he had to have a dream like that? Now his mind couldn't seem to work properly because it was still trying to figure out if what he had seen had actually been a memory or not. When trying to concentrate, his mind drew a blank. Everything he had learned for the test up to this point seemed to have vanished. Only a big, empty void and this bad feeling in his stomach remained, a fluttering that told the boy something bad was about to happen.

Even though he didn't believe in things like foreboding feelings, he wasn't able to shake off the dark thoughts. And now, it was consuming him, making him forget everything else until there was nothing but this uncertain thought that he should remember something. Every time he tried, however, there was nothing. All of these thoughts were useless; they only seemed to drive him around in a circle.

Maybe he should tell his friends; it was possible they knew something about these ridiculous visions. Bickering with Rukia always made him feel better.

Inoue was such a sweet girl; she would surely listen patiently and then make him laugh with some hilarious story about how he had been kidnapped by aliens who had manipulated his memories.

Chad would calm him with a few well-placed words, with the assurance that he would always have Ichigo's back no matter what.

Or he could ask Ishida; the intelligent teen would surely find a perfectly reasonable explanation, right? Heck, he would even prefer a good fight with the bastard Renji!

Being thoughtful wasn't like him. The teenager was one who acted without thinking, who wore his heart on his sleeve. He had been through so much, had handled the worst situations (after all, he had nearly died more than once) so, where had that confidence gone?

A dark shadow looming over his own slumped body interrupted his inner musings.

"Kurosaki-san…there's only five minutes left," his teacher snapped. Her lips were formed a thin line, making her look stricter than she normally was. Wincing inwardly, he settled on sighing. It wasn't her problem, right? Couldn't she just shut up? He was well aware of his own failure, thank you very much!

But before he could think of ways to curse her in his head, he caught sight of worried blue eyes staring at him. Smiling back faintly, Ichigo waved his hand in dismissal. Rukia should be more concerned about herself; after all, she wasn't very good in math. Well, she tried hard, but it seemed she would never get the hang of it- what would a Shinigami need quadratic functions for anyway?

Ten minutes later, the bell rang. Great! Muttering incomprehensible things, the boy tossed his paper on the pile of other tests. He hadn't even been able to write his name down.

--Scene shift, a bit later--

"What's wrongwith you?" her voice was low, hissing, almost accusing. Staring at her with the same frown as always, he just huffed.

Kuchiki Rukia was a petite girl with black, shaggy hair, sapphire eyes that radiated warmth, energy and inner strength and pale skin that stood in a stark contrast with the rest of her. Her slender body was clothed in a blue dress she had stolen from Yuzu. No one should be so stupid as to underestimate her though; she was a good fighter, although often, she worried too much. Really, sometimes it seemed like she carried the weight of the entire world on her small shoulders. Something that didn't bode well with Ichigo; she always reminded him of a sister he had to comfort when she was sad.

"Just a headache," he replied soothingly. After all, it wasn't as if he knew the reasons behind his unusual behaviour himself. There was just this uneasy feeling nagging at his insides.

But no matter how hard he tried though, he couldn't make her stop worrying. His friend had the bad habit of seeing someone else's pain as her own.

It could be painful to watch her trying so hard. After all that had happened she deserved to rest, to heal. Ruffling her dark head, he smirked at her and sighed playfully.

"I'm such a busy guy!" Ichigo mocked, grinning as she stuck out her tongue at him."You were just lazy yesterday! Didn't I tell you to study?" she bickered back.

"Oh? And I thought I saw you scribbling something on your own paper furiously!" the boy laughed as she grimaced. Straightening out the dress she was wearing, the female Shinigami snorted.

"I don't understand how that subject is supposed to be useful for us! Come on, I've lived for over a hundred years without having to use it!"

"Maybe that's because your job is to slay hollows. They won't just suddenly ask you complicated math problems. That doesn't mean others may not need it."

"It doesn't matter when you die anyway!" the girl snapped, her hands swinging around in the air. Folding his arms over his chest, the representative Death God continued to gaze at his friend.

"I wish I could be as carefree as you. My Dad has already made clear that he doesn't expect anything less from me than becoming a doctor, or a professor, or…"

"I'd want to see that, strawberry head," a taunting voice interrupted. Turning around, they saw Renji standing behind them, greeting Rukia with a laid-back smile. You could instantly recognise this guy; he was quite…unique. Long, crimson locks were barely tamed in a low ponytail. Abarai Renji had a sharp, somewhat handsome face that often frowned the same way as Ichigo's. He had tanned skin; you could easily see that he was someone who loved the outdoors and spent a lot of his time there. Tattoos in all varieties graced his body, one reason why many chose to just see his rough outer shell.

If you went through the effort of getting to know him though, you'd find it well worth your time. He was a loyal and strong person, even though his sharp tongue could be annoying at times.

"Oh? That's something awfully rude to say to someone who beat you!" the orange-haired male shot back.As always, their childish argument ended up in a fight That is, until a teacher saw them. During their daily routine, Ichigo forgot about his dream for a minute. Unfortunately, it didn't last long…

--Scene shift, a bit later--

"…spacing out!"

Turning his head to the source of the noise, the boy with hair the colour of sand saw Inoue looking at him with concern. He stopped walking and gave her a questioning glance. Her grey eyes shone with sincere worry. No surprise, she was a kind person after all.

Cheerful and caring, she was someone many admired. Her long, brown hair had a red tint to it that gave it an appearance similar to his own mane. A constant smile was etched onto the round, graceful face. Despite the apparent naivety she radiated, Ichigo knew even Orihime had problems.

"I just asked if everything was okay, Kurosaki-kun. You seemed to be far away…" she whispered softly. Even if he found her a tad weird at times, she was a true friend.

"Nothing. I was just wondering what Yuzu will cook today." he answered quickly, although he instantly felt bad for lying to her.

They were on their way home; school had ended just a while ago. The grumpy teenager was glad about that, maybe being home would calm him. Thinking about how his father would welcome him, he drew his eyebrows together. Yes, he would definitely be distracted from his dark thoughts there. At the very least he could ask his sisters if they remembered the incident from his dream.

"Is that so? Or aren't you feeling well? Oh, I know! Maybe if you try my new recipe, you'll feel better!" enthusiastically, she rummaged through her bag, only to pull out a lunch box.

Something quite disgusting-looking was revealed. Ichigo didn't dare guess what it was, but the slimy colour did worry him quite a bit.

"You can eat that?" he asked bluntly, sniffing at it. The sickeningly sweet smell made him want to throw up the things he had already eaten for breakfast.

"Really, it's delicious! Well, Tatsuki-chan refused to even try it, but she was a bit moody today, so…"

"I think…Chad would be glad to taste it!" the brown-eyed teenager looked apologetically at the giant. He just hadn't been able to come up with a better excuse.

Lucky for him, it worked and the girl happily scampered off to the big male, who was trailing a bit behind them.

"Safe!" he breathed. One could always count on Sado Yasutora. With his tall figure, the imposing muscles he had and the wild dark brown hair that hid his eyes, he did seem intimidating, but Ichigo knew his heart was in the right place.

"I don't think so…" this simple sentence, uttered from a voice he knew all too well made him freeze. No, that couldn't be. That had been Aizen's voice…His eyes narrowing, he looked around anxiously. To his surprise though, there was no trace of the maniac. And none of his friends seemed to have heard anything.

Had it been his imagination…or was he beginning to loose it? Someone like the former Shinigami Captain wouldn't simply appear here…

"Come on, hurry, Kurosaki-san…" gazing at Orihime, who was now a few metres ahead of him, he nodded slowly. Really, he had to stop thinking about that.

--dream scene--

"You have decided to visit again!" little Yuzu smiled happily at the two men who were nodding politely at her. Looking shyly to the ground, the girl bit her lip.

"Of course I'm happy you brought Ichi-nii back…but Daddy isn't here right now, so I can't allow anyone to come inside." she eventually said, kneading her hands together in a nervous gesture.

Gently, the brunet nodded in understanding, while his companion stayed silent. His fox-like grin spoke for itself, though.

"How wonderful that you are so responsible, especially for your age. I was just wondering if I could speak with your brother again. Unfortunately, I seem to have lost something important to me and I wanted to ask him if he has seen it."

Big, childish eyes widened, before a rosy lower lip began to tremble silently.

"Please, Sir…Ichi-nii isn't a thief!" she cried indignantly, pointing at him with one finger.

"We would never imply anything like that, young Miss. Could you get him for a moment now?" his follower cut in, his grin widening even more. Hesitantly, the child nodded.

"F-fine, I'll get him…" she whispered, disappearing into the house, but not before closing the door noisily.

Once she was gone, the silver-haired figure began to chuckle.

"Clever Missy… She seems to suspect you, doesn't she?" he cackled.

Instead of an answer, he got a sharp glare that shut him up immediately. Damn, he had forgotten that this was significant for his Lord. No jokes were allowed as long as they were dealing with serious business. Minutes went by before something happened.

After a big crashing sound from inside, a messy-haired boy appeared, eyes as wide as his sisters had been.

"Sir? What are you doing here?" he asked, looking completely startled. His guest's smile softened, while his eyes surveyed the little one intently, like they had done on their first meeting.

To be truthful, it made Ichigo a bit uncomfortable. Swallowing thickly, he tried not to show his discomfort. The second visitor seemed to have noticed his state of distress.

"No need to look so worried, we only wanted to talk with you a bit," the one named Aizen said. His gaze wandered over to the door that was still half-closed.

"Would you mind if we come in?" he asked carefully. Gasping, the young lad shook his head.

"Dad would be furious! And Karin doesn't like strangers anyway…" he added quietly.

"How about the park then?" Gin interjected with a careless tone of voice.

"I'm sorry, but I have to watch over my sisters…Maybe you could come back another time?"

Really, he felt bad for not inviting them in, but he couldn't disobey his father's orders.

Last time he had done that he hadn't been allowed to eat sweets for a whole month…a hand suddenly grabbing his arm drew him out of his thoughts.

Shocked, he looked at the men. Never had anyone touched him like this except for his family.

This scared him, even though the brunet had hugged and carried him before. To his relief, another hand suddenly freed his arm from the tight grasp.

"Aizen-sama, I think we should do like he said," the silver-haired figure's tone was polite, but there was a silent plea there. In a slow and concentrated manner, the other male nodded.

"Excuse my indecent behaviour. We'll return another day," he stated firmly, although he turned around a bit hastily.

Guiltily, the boy stared at him. He hadn't wanted to make the dark-eyed adult mad! Had he been bad? Watching their retreating backs, Ichigo suddenly felt very odd. Hopefully, they would really return, because a few days before, they had been really nice to him and that was rare…

And he had the weird feeling that there had been a message in those black orbs that had been meant for him, but he had no idea how to decipher it. What was it that the Mister couldn't say? It looked sad but, somehow, he could tell there was more…

"Nii-san…!"

--Dream end--

"Wake up…Onii-chan!" a voice cried, while hands shook his shoulders frantically. Mumbling something incomprehensible, the orange-haired teenager opened his eyes tiredly. Yuzu was gazing down at him, her light-brown eyes shimmering in the dim light of the morning. Wait…Another day had begun already? And he'd had…another dream…

"You have to go to school…" his sister urged gently. Swatting her hands away, her brother huffed, crossing his arms over his chest in a rebellious manner.

"So you really don't remember two tall men, one with unusual silver hair?" he asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

Yesterday he had questioned both of his siblings, but the results had been the same, they didn't remember. Maybe because they wanted to forget the events after their mother's funeral, or just because all those nightmares were nothing more than fragments of his imagination. Why had he had to have two of them, though?

One couldn't say he was scared of Aizen Sosuke, Soul Society's worst enemy, but whenever that guy was around, he could sense himself growing extremely uncomfortable. The bastard just somehow managed to aggravate him whenever they met. Luckily, he hadn't had the 'pleasure' of seeing his nemesis that often. Thinking about that alone disgusted him.

"Rukia-chan is already downstairs and she's waiting for you! Hurry up!" the girl pleaded.

"Don't get your panties in a twist! I'm coming already!" he groaned. There was no doubt that an investigation was in order, but that would have to wait until later…

--Scene shift, later--

School was like always…an endless day of boredom. Somewhere between the constant chattering of his classmates and the dry-as-dust lectures of his teachers, Ichigo managed to doze off in a blissful half-sleep. Oblivion could be really calming sometimes, he realised. If he could stay like this, his mind drifting off in his own little world, classes would go by in the blink of an eye. Yes, after that, he would begin his search for clues…

"We have to go to the bathroom! It's an emergency!" Rukia's voice was what shattered his nice little fantasy. Looking up lazily, he noticed that she seemed quite urgent.

Had there been a Hollow attack…again? Lately there had been so many of them…

"So, you're telling me that, suddenly, you and four other of your classmates have to go to the bathroom…immediately," their teacher drawled.

"But we have to go!" the female Shinigami whimpered, playing her role perfectly.

"Fine then, go, but I'm warning you…" the sensei growled.

Sighing happily, the girl stood up, motioning their friends to follow. Still a bit dazed, the orange-haired male did so.

What was that all about? Hopefully, he would find out soon enough.

--Scene shift, some time later--

"A report from Soul Society? And it's important?" Ishida Uryu asked. Constantly serious-looking, the intelligent young man was the last of the Quincy race. With his chin-length, dark blue hair, eyes of the same colour, skin that could very well belong to a porcelain doll, and glasses that covered his eyes, he appeared strict and indifferent, but he had sacrificed a lot for the people that meant something to him.

"Yes, we have orders to inform you about this, for it concerns you too…" this sentence was uttered by Hitsugaya Toshiro, someone who looked quite young, though that impression was probably due to his vertically challenged stature. Well, with the serious expression on his face and the white, spiky hair, he was special and differed in his own unique way. Not only that but his emerald green eyes held a certain shine to them, one that stood for hidden power and strict control.

Despite his age, after all, this little one was a Captain, leader of the tenth Division. Together with Matsumoto Rangiku, his lieutenant, he had been sent to the world of the living. Unlike her leader, the busty blonde was a bubbly woman with a loud nature. Although she was pretty with her fair skin and gorgeous steel blue irises, many only saw her rather voluminous chest measurement.

"What's this all about? Get that over and done with, we don't have much time!" Ichigo urged. His mood had been bad to begin with; this wasn't doing anything to improve it.

"These are documents from the history books of our library stored there until recently. They had been forgotten for a long time, only few remember them. Of course, our General's memory has always been good, that's why he remembered the incident. What we found really surprised us. Please read this, Kurosaki-kun…" the long-haired woman trailed off, giving him a blank book.

Flipping it open hesitantly, he took a quick look through it. Without a word, the female Shinigami opened a certain page and instructed him to read it.

Last night, a terrible crime occurred. Everyone is astonished and fearful that something like it could have happened in the first place.

The head of the Aizen family, one of the four noble Clans, killed himself, his wife and the entire staff in the span of a single night. It seems the married couple had been fighting and arguing before the tragic incident.

Both were found hours later, with the only survivor, their son, sitting beside them, staring into the empty air. The young boy doesn't talk, it seems he has been traumatised, but according to our medical squad, no signs of grief or sorrow emanate from him. While searching trough the house, one suspicious room was found…

Gulping, Ichigo tried to keep his hands from shaking. What was this all about?

"W-what has that got to do with me?" he stammered weakly.

"A lot, actually. This boy was Aizen. Continue reading and you will understand…"

But the heir's room was more interesting to our research team. We found the walls full of drawings, all masterfully done. All of them showed one person, a young, good-looking man…

Even more confused than before, the orange-haired teenager looked up, waiting for them to explain. After a moment, the young Captain took a deep breath.

"There was one of the drawings with this report. And we have to say, the person on the picture is quite familiar…"

Carefully, the white-haired child Shinigami handed him the picture. Staring down at the old paper, brown eyes widened. Him. Lying on a bed, sleeping serenely, with a small smile on his face. There was no doubt about it; it was just too well done for any other conclusion. Reading the last two lines, the book slipped from his hand.

When asking the young child about it, he just answered:

"It's my angel…"

--Dream scene--

A smile. It was soft and Ichigo instantly took a liking to it. Somehow, it seemed to be more sincere than the ones the man usually gave. And it was meant solely for him.

"I'm so happy you came back! Although, you are treating me to ice cream!" he laughed.

"Of course. I will always return to you," the brunet said seriously.

"You promise? We can do so many fun things together!"

"I promise," Aizen replied.

--Dream end--

Waking up with a start, the orange-haired male tried to calm his breathing again. Sighing soundlessly, he sat up on his bed. Another dream…again. Didn't he have enough problems already? Maybe it was the bastard's plan, making him go crazy…Well, it seemed to be working so far.

Even his own friends were turning against him! After that revelation, they had started mothering him like he was going to die any moment. And there was a possibility that he would have to leave his home for a while to live in Soul Society. For his own safety.

Snorting, he let his head fall back on his pillow. Absently, he listened to Rukia's quiet snoring. No, he wasn't afraid, he wasn't a damsel in distress, and there was definitely no way his enemy would have ever been nice to him!

Hell, the first time they had met, that guy had tried to kill him! Not exactly a friendly gesture, right? Or was that the brunet's special way of getting reacquainted? Even though the other was a madman, Ichigo was sure even he treated his servants better than that.

Punching his pillow in frustration, the teenager tried to sleep again. After all, it was no use thinking about things; he was the kind who let his actions speak for themselves. 'Let others do the thinking' had always been his motto. Not that he was stupid or something, but making plans, analysing every little detail, and manipulating people was all too underhanded for his tastes.

Too many could get hurt, emotionally and physically. Lying and double-dealing had never been his thing, so he would never be a great strategist. All he could do was keep those around him safe. And even there he failed more often than not. But if he could lengthen just one life, make only one person smile, it was well worth it.

Partly, he wanted to become stronger, so that he would never lose another person dear to him again, but that wasn't all. The will and instinct to do battle, they were based on his very nature; it was like he was made to fight. And he did so constantly, be it in his mind or in the real world.

"Could it be that I'm just a distraction for some bigger scheme?" he wondered.

Giving in to his restlessness, he stood up, looking out of the window. Apart from the usual blackness of the night, rain was falling, its crystalline drops wetting the ground. Pressing his face against the window, the boy sighed. Really, he hated rain. It would always remind him of the night he had killed his mother. No, he was beginning to sulk again! That wasn't good…he couldn't be always depressed…he couldn't go back to being a crybaby again…

/Yeah king, sure thing. Did you know that talking to yourself is the first sign of madness?/

Startled because of the voice in his head, Ichigo winced. How could he have forgotten? Another one of his 'little' problems, the nameless Hollow that lived inside of him…

/I'm hurt…don't you love me anymore? I can remember someone thinking about how much he wants company…/ his dark side mocked.

"Shut up! I can handle myself just fine! There's nothing wrong with being alone…"

/Or lonely. Because that's what you are at the moment, right? Without anyone to take your hand…Go ahead, cry like the lost little boy you are. Cause that's what you want, right?/

"Wrong! I've always fought my battles alone!" he protested loudly.

/Just know that you can't fool me. Rainy nights like this one…Like the one your mother died…you won't find any sleep on nights like this./

"Shut up!" the brown-eyed male barked.

Grabbing some clothes, he hurriedly put them on, not bothering to brush his hair. Trying not to make too much sound, he ran out of his room, leaving his home quickly. Being there, alone in a room with his Hollow, was something he didn't want right now. There were enough problems he had to deal with as it was. At the moment, all he wanted was to forget.

--Scene change, Ichigo's room--

She awoke because there was something wrong. Not with her body, even though sleeping in a cupboard was really uncomfortable (she always had a stiff back because of that; really, these humans should make them more comfortable! Even a girl as small as her couldn't sleep in one without suffering!).

Searching for a clean dress in the mess of her clothing, she grumbled. Why did she have to wake up so early? Well, she didn't really know, but something was…different, wrong. Things weren't as they should be.

Thinking intensely, she tried to figure out what it was that had disturbed her. Only to start a moment later. Quiet…it was too quiet. Ichigo wasn't mumbling or snoring, there was only silence.

Alarmed, she slit the door open, looking around. Although the sheets were crumbled, her friend wasn't lying in his bed. Softly, she called out, but no one answered her. Now really worried, she bit her lip.

"Onee-chan?" a tired voice asked. Turning around on reflex, she was relieved to see that it was only Kon, still a stuffed animal. He was wearing the latest dress Ishida had made for him. Yuzu had been so happy about it, chattering how cute it looked on him.

"Where's Ichigo?" she asked, not bothering to ask where the modified soul had been. He had probably been trying to find a busty woman or something of the sort.

"Don't know. Maybe he had to pee?" the fluffy doll replied carelessly. Contemplating the idea for a moment, the female nodded slowly.

"That can be it. Please look for him, okay?" she added quickly.

"What? Why?! I need my beauty sleep!" the artificial spirit protested.

"No buts! Go and do what I told you! And I don't want to hear any noise!"

Sighing, Kon nodded after a moment.

His Onee-chan was not a morning person, that was for sure. He wouldn't mess with her. Really, why did his life have to be so hard? Wasn't he just an innocent, harmless and absolutely adorable guy?

"Go already!"

--Scene change, Hueco Mundo--

As always, Gin was smiling. After all, he had enough reason to. At the moment he was on a mission that promised to be quite fun. Well, his partner didn't seem to think so...

The white jacket, combined with the Hakama in the same colour and the black sash told anyone immediately that it was one of Aizen's henchmen, an Arrancar, a high-ranked one at that, even if it was difficult to tell for other people. Unblinking green eyes, similar to those of a reptile, gazed at nothing in particular, the rest of the Hollow's face almost as pale as his clothing.

Cyan lines descended from his irises, making it look as if he was crying. His hair was wild and black. The remains of his Hollow mask were on the top of his head, forming a broken helmet. A bored frown was spread over his face.

"Ulquiorra-san, so you are going to be my partner for this mission?" the silver shadow chuckled, while his companion just bowed silently in a show of respect.

"Well then, let's have fun!" the former Shinigami Captain said evenly, which earned him a glare from his stern companion.

"We must fulfil our task," was the only answer he got.

"Don't worry too much about that…After all, I'm not Aizen-sama's Second for no reason," the silver-haired man sighed.

"I never said that. Of course you are perfectly capable of any endeavour entrusted to you," the Espada replied monotonously.

Deciding that their job was more important than teaching the other how to loosen up, the fox-like creature turned around.

They had something important to do and it wouldn't be good to let their leader wait for too long, no matter the reasons.

--Scene change, graveyard--

"Mum, I'm back…" he breathed, looking down at the grave. Somehow, he had ended up here.

It had been quite a long way, but during it, he had forgotten about time, for he had been too lost in thought. Now, wet and shivering, he stood here, unsure of what to do. Had it been the right thing to do, coming here? Well, he needed someone to talk to and his mother had always been the one who had listened to him. Really, he missed her soft smile. She had understood his worries and surely, she would be able to give advice now too, if she were still alive.

"I'm kind of confused at the moment…Have you ever felt like dream and reality are merging together?" he whispered, feeling ridiculous. Here he was, talking to himself and a grave made of stone! Was it really time to question his own sanity? Maybe it was because the thought of going crazy didn't sit well with him. Or maybe there was another reason.

Nevertheless, the arms that suddenly slung around him caught him by surprise. Before he could even attempt to squirm free, they had secured him in their grip and it was impossible to get out.

"W-what?!" he gasped, attempting to struggle, but eventually, giving up. Stilling, he noticed that the one behind him could only be a male.

And surprisingly, he wasn't wet and cold, but warm, which felt strange against his damp clothes.

"Ichigo-san…" was whispered in his ear. His body went rigid. That voice…he knew it…

"A-aizen?" he gulped. No, this couldn't be good. But how…why?

One arm still clung to his waist, turning his body around so that he was facing his enemy.

The other hand took a hold of his chin, forcing him to look into the depths of the other's eyes.

A moment later, nimble fingers twined in the sand-coloured streaks of the teenager's hair. Closing his orbs in distain, the boy squeaked, something he was pretty embarrassed of a second later.

Despite that, the caressing hand wandered downwards, stroking his cheeks then tracing the contours of his face slowly. First the cheekbone, then the forehead, the eyes, the nose, and then the lips. Stilling, it remained there for a moment, feeling the softness.

After a short moment though the hand retreated, letting the captive exhale in relief. But that relief turned into horror as he felt steel press against his neck. Suddenly, everything felt unreal. A madman was holding him and threatening to slit his throat with his Zanpakutō…Was this one of his dreams? He had to wake up…everything would be okay after that; he just had to pinch himself or something…

"Oyasumi…"

There was a sharp pain before he saw his blood flowing freely, glowing a vibrant red against the darkness of the night. Then, his vision went black.

-Scene change, unknown place—

It all began with the sensation of an icy chill. Coldness, that was all what this mansion knew.

Created by creatures that only desired strength and wealth, there had been many cruelties behind those walls of finest marble.

The inhabitants of this house had always been unfortunate and every one of them had died a brutal death. None of them had ever been truly happy. Citizens of the nearby town called it the Cursed Palace.

That was about to change, though. Because it was inside of this haunted estate that he woke up, suddenly and disorientated. On the second floor, just behind a wooden door decorated with rose carvings, was the guestroom, a place that wasn't used all that often anymore.

Despite that fact, no dust could be found, no signs of neglect. Cream-coloured walls seemed dull in the dim light, but even that couldn't hide the fact that everything here had been carefully chosen. A light carpet procured a comfortable, warm feeling when entering the chamber, and the beautiful furniture only reinforced that impression.

In the right corner were a table and two chairs, all made of crystal. A mahogany cupboard painted in white was in the other corner, fitting wonderfully with the overall brightness of the whole room.

There was one huge window with a panoramic few and silvery curtains that sometimes flew ever so slightly in the barely existent breeze. Shimmering slightly, the empty vase standing on the windowsill had a somewhat lost air to it. The most noticeable thing though was the big double bed standing in the middle of the chamber and taking up most of the free space.Not only must it have been created with the finest skill, but also its costly, squiggly decorations hypnotized the mind. In contrast with the rest of the furniture, the blanket and sheets were midnight black, making the bedding all the more conspicuous.

All in all, the room could very well live up to the high expectations of royalty.

The one lying on the bed at the moment though, was blissfully unaware of that fact.

Long, thin fingers were tightly clutching the blanket and his face was twisted in a grimace, distorted with a sort of vague pain. Sweat drops slowly trickled down his temples, reaching dainty cheeks where they dried, leaving a wet trail behind. Shaky and rattling, his uneven breath was the only sound in the room apart from the rain knocking on the window every now and then.

Finally, after a long while of thrashing around uncomfortably and groaning, he awoke with one last, frightened scream. Chocolate-coloured eyes, clouded with the last remains of sleep and full of emotions, opened suddenly. Panting like he had just run for his life, he took a minute to calm down, to stop his body from shivering. That was the moment he noticed his still tight grip on the blankets.

Frantically, he stared at them. Surely, they weren't his own, for they were too expensive and delicate for him. They didn't feel like the cotton ones that he used and which were thick but relaxing at all. Even though the realisation hit him that this couldn't be his own room, he just couldn't move. Inspecting the unknown place he found himself in with his eyes was all he could do.

And then there was the nightmare he had just escaped from that was still haunting him.

Like a dark shadow, like a bad taste in his mouth, the feeling of panic and helplessness just wouldn't leave, although the detailed contents of the dream had already left his mind. Uncertainty was upsetting, annoying and frightening.

At least that was how the young man felt at the moment. Blurry pictures he couldn't understand nor associate plagued him, making him feel nauseous. Something in those scattered images could never have happened, he was sure about that. For him, dream and reality were mixing, creating a half-truth he couldn't trust, which left him behind in a confused and disturbed state.

Trying to pull himself together again, he closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply. The question of where he was should be more important now, he told himself silently. Everything else could wait until later, when he felt safe again.

As he sat up carefully, the blanket slipped from his slim form, making him feel cold all of a sudden. Surveying his body, he was relieved to find that he was still wearing clothing, although it was clinging to his skin unpleasantly. Gazing at the simple jeans and simple green shirt, his body went slack.

Really, he had been childish for thinking a nightmare could be true for one moment! Laughing softly at his cowardly behaviour, he immediately stopped, too intimidated by the silence he found himself in. Despite that, he sighed in relief, looking around the room he was in once again.

Branches of a tree were banging against the pane of the window violently, driven by the harsh wind bending them to its will. Noticing the weather, the boy drew his eyebrows together. Raging in all of its might, the storm sent cascades of rain clashing against the glass, even though you could barely hear it for most of the time.

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, the teenager decided that this was his cue to leave- the whole situation was just too weird for his taste. Wherever he was, surely the owners of the house wouldn't be very happy to see him here. Heck, they would probably call him a thief and whatnot!

That would not be surprising; if he found intruders in his home, he would give them a good beating before even asking any questions! Slipping to the end of the huge bed that was probably larger than his whole room, he carefully stood up. It was now that he noticed he wasn't even wearing any shoes.

He could feel the soft carpet under his sensitive, bare feet. Involuntarily, he shuddered. That didn't feel right, not at all, something was just…wrong here. What had he done to end up in a place like this? Or was this all still part of his dream? An unknown fear crept into his heart, settling in, making it beat faster.

The panic took control of him and soon he wanted nothing more than to get out, to feel the refreshing water drops fall on his face and body. Everything here made him feel like he was in a golden cage and freedom was something he couldn't do without.

But he had to be careful, had to make sure nobody saw him. With hurried steps, he reached the door, opening it quickly to rush outside. After he left the room, the door fell shut noisily behind him, making him wince.

It was safe to say that the hallway he now found himself in wasn't half as inviting as the chamber he had just left been. Too dark, too eerie- everything about the place made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Wrapping his arms around himself in a protective gesture, he noticed the portraits hanging everywhere. Beautiful people were painted on them. They were gorgeous, almost angelic, but their smiles told a different story, like they were planning something sinister, something no one else could understand. Their eyes were cold and unkind, with a certain gleam looming in those dark irises that promised a slow, painful death, should you have the courage to stand in their way.

Well, now he was really sure he didn't want to meet the manor's inhabitants… That was, if the artist hadn't been a bungler. He didn't understand much of art; he had slept through most of those boring lessons. They did seem real though, so that last one was an unlikely possibility.

Deep inside, he even felt like these figures were familiar. That couldn't be right, could it? Was it possible it was a coincidence, or was he overlooking something important? After all, when you've fought as many bad guys as he had, you could lose count or faces could become blurred.

Swallowing down his wandering dark thoughts, his head turned to the staircase that would lead him outside and, hopefully, finally away from here. Although he wanted to move, he continued to stare at the stairs for a moment, before he bit his lip. Why was he so thoughtful, even hesitant and worried?

That wasn't like him at all! And why now, in a moment like this, where he needed all his courage? Was it just the manor that gave him the creeps or was that nightmare still lingering in the back of his head? Maybe both?

Fact was he had never walked down a staircase so carefully before, stopping after every step to listen to any noises. Nothing happened, the silence continued to suffocate him. In the end, he reached the first floor without seeing anyone or anything, something that didn't necessarily relieve him that much.

But every thought about that vanished when the young man saw the door, that wonderful, wooden masterwork that certainly lead to his salvation! Becoming reckless, he made one huge leap to the entrance, his breath becoming uneven with excitement and the accompanying adrenaline rush. Just one more step and he would be able to return home, to his sisters, his father, Rukia, his family!

As he was about to touch the doorknob, however, the ground behind him creaked and light footsteps announced the arrival of someone. Holding his breath, the intruder didn't dare let his hand reach out to touch the knob, fearful of what was about to come.

"Who are you?"

The high, soft, and slightly annoyed voice, made him clench his hands into fists. It had been more like a statement than a question.

He could barely suppress the urge to run away. After all, the other could scream and wake up the whole house and that would mean big trouble for him…Submitting to his fate, he slowly turned around. What he saw, however, wasn't what he had been expecting.

(End Chapter 1)

"Who loves not a false imagination, an unreal character in us; but looking through all the rubbish of our imperfections, love in us is the divine ideal of our natures- not the man that we are, but the angel we may be." By Alfred, Lord Tennyson