I don't own Bleach.
Live, believe, remember. Because that's the only way to survive. And one more thing, be tough. IchiRuki
(Rukia: 14 years old, Ichigo: 15)
Rukia's point of view
You know, I ask things to myself sometimes: unnecessary questions that should've been better if left unasked. Like why do emotions exist, why do there's such a thing as good and bad. Or even a more practical question, like why am I here, being born again into this place.
I'm standing in the tattered streets of Rokongai. Lot's of killing, screams, thefts, violence, and blood. Technically, this is the land of the dead. And once you're dead once, dying for the second time doesn't seem too big of a deal. Not for me anyway.
How are you going to die is the problem. For one thing, I'm clearly not giving up myself to some stinky old gangster by the street to pick me up, trash me, rape me, and watch me rot till death. This place is not hell. There are no demons here, no lake of fire, nothing. It's supposed to be the place where the good souls live. It's supposed to be heaven for goodness sake.
This is my home. Welcome. Enjoy.
Like it?
No need to answer. Nobody cares about your opinion anyway. Just live if you can.
Live, until you die. Again.
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Sometimes, I got the feeling that this life has gone so horribly wrong. For instance, look at this man in front of me. Big, ugly man, who's holding his fist in front of my face, jerking the collar of my shirt. Apparently he accused me of stealing his fruit on sale, which I did. But please, that's the easiest way to survive for some of us here. He should get used to it.
Oh, there are people coming. Audience.
So I'm the show for today?
Nobody helps, because nobody cares. Hell, why should they?
"You little bitch!" the man roared again. "You wanna know why you got no parents?"
I don't know my parents. I don't care either. But when someone is insulting you, it doesn't matter what they are using to insult you. It doesn't matter if they are talking about the parents you never knew, or about the past you never remembered. It drove you insane anyway.
"Because your mother was a fuckin' whore, and your father was-"
He never got to finish. My body reacted on its own. The rusty sword I was holding suddenly became very sharp, sharp enough to tear the man's throat apart. And lithe enough so I can quickly pull it away from the now torn flesh. His blood splattered to my face, my body, soaking my hair. It was sour, salty, and sticky.
That was the first time I've ever killed someone.
Was it wrong?
No. There's no reason that says it is wrong.
I would be lying if I say that I wasn't scared of myself, afraid of the weapon that I was holding in my hands. And yet strange, there was something else. There was a mixture of satisfaction and pride of knowing that I've proven myself in front of all of these people.
I could feel myself smiling.
Let them watch me and cursed me in their anger and fear. I'm not a devil's child. They simply raised me to be one.
I'm not sadistic. I'm just an avenger.
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Blood. Lust. Pain. Stab. Kill. KILL. Oh, and don't forget to smile.
Monsters don't smile. But we, humans do.
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And there was a boy, couldn't be much older than I was, stood among the crowds of people. And like others, he stared at me.
He wasn't looking at me with hatred or fear, he was looking with fascination.
Few seconds later, the crowd was leaving, mumbling away. He didn't. He approached me, walking briskly, almost skipping.
"Yo!"
I blinked.
"Cool move!"
What the hell?
"Leave," I warned.
"I've never seen you before."
"Go die."
"What's your name?"
-
He called himself Ichigo. Self proclaimed peace lover with big innocent eyes that stare at the street as if he's still going to find hope somewhere there.
I call him stupid.
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He followed me everywhere. And the most annoying thing was, I couldn't shake him off.
Sometimes I wish I could just stab him with my sword and get it over with.
But there he is, smiling away besides me. "You know, I'm really glad I've finally found a friend."
I didn't remember accepting him as my friend.
"I was getting lonely after all these years."
If I was honest, then maybe I would say that I was too. Sort of.
"We're friends, right?"
I couldn't say no.
"Che."
My answer was utterly wrong in so many different levels.
Damn, the little happy kid.
-
Look. Listen. Think before you act. Keep a distance. A little more till he comes home, crying.
But screw it all. We are friends. Ta Da. How hard was that?
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Now, am I supposed to be… Happy?
Like every other kids out there who just made a friend.
Should I?
Okay.
Then tell me how.
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He walked silently, almost grinning.
"Ne, Rukia… Daijobu des."
"..."
I wonder what I've gotten myself into.
Um, yeah. My dark fic attempt on Bleach. I hope they're not too OOC. I personally love Rukia being a little, er- dark on the side.
Review.