No Place for Life.
Masaki rarely thought about life. It seemed foolish for a woman struggling to survive her death to dwell upon an existence which should no longer mean anything to her. It was ridiculous for a woman stranded and alone in the 76th district to lust for the mortal world. Life had no place in death, so instead Masaki concerned herself with more relevant issues. She worried about where she would sleep tonight, and plotted ways to fill her empty, aching stomach.
Masaki rarely thought about life and had all but forgotten her once upon a time family. She found long ago that thinking about those people only made her chest feel hollow, in a way her death had not. Instead Masaki created a new family, orphans and renegades all in her same sad position. They taught her what that insatiable hunger of hers meant, and they sent her on her way, armed with the knowledge of how to banish the empty feeling all together.
Masaki rarely thought about life. She thought about how long the old merchant woman would have her back turned from her stall. She thought about how much sake and rice she could pillage in that time. She thought about the glowing ball of energy she had conjured and used to save herself during her last raid. She dreamed of the Seireitei and all the wonders it represented.
Masaki rarely thought about life. She had long ago outgrown the use of weeks and days and months, silly units of measurement that the living world relied upon so very much. She marked her progress in dawns and dusks. Eighty-three moons had crossed the sky since her voyage had started, she was close now, and she could feel it. With continuous travel she would reach the outskirt of district one in five more moons at most.
Masaki rarely thought about life. She could barely even remember life; she couldn't picture her children's faces anymore. She wasn't sure if she had ever had children to begin with. She hoped that she did not. She saw herself as too single-minded, too self-centered to have made a very good mother. However when she spotted a single orange haired shinigami fighting the gates to Seireitei; to her final destination, she couldn't quite suppress the maternal instinct raging inside of her, The violent urge to protect this young stranger.
Masaki rarely thought about life, she had lost her connection to it years ago. She was training to become a shinigami now, she had no time to scrap together fleeting images of her past existence. But sometimes, not often, but sometimes when she would walk down the academy halls and spot the portraits of the past Gotei 13 captains she's stop and do a double take. When she went on a field mission she'd find the human world far to comforting and familiar. And once, just once while she walked the alleys and barracks of the court guard squads she'd hear someone whispering about the ryoka, Ichigo Kurosaki and a little boy would cross her minds eye.
Masaki rarely thought about life, but she couldn't help feeling that everyone she had left behind were still thinking about her, that they were getting closer to finding her. She couldn't help feeling that soon (perhaps not as soon as she might like, but soon) her life, the one she left forgotten in the past, the one she never thought about, would catch up with her again. She could hardly wait.
Author's Note: that was my third drabble in as many weeks, my second bleach fic, and my very first time trying to write Masaki. I'm sorry if she seems a little out of character but i figured, none of the other shinigami seem to spare a thought for their families or their old lives so why would she? I'm considered a companion piece to this, from Ichigo's point of view most probably. But I doubt it will be started anytime soon.
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