Someone had spilled a bottle of ink across the sky.
Isshin could almost smell it, the air thick and warm around him. It was an electric, magical night, and he wouldn't have traded it for anything. He loved the mortal world - it had always fascinated him. And when a large troupe of hollows had been detected, he was one of the first to volunteer to go and dispatch them. He made quick work of the beasts and was free to enjoy the rest of the night as he wished.
He took a deep breath, smelling the city air, wind whipping past his face.
The souls in that world were - for lack of a less literal way to describe it - so alive. He could feel their faint, faint spiritual pressures brushing past him, as if he were walking through spiderwebs. Their lives were so fragile, so brief - even though they came to Soul Society and were recycled out again, the time on Earth, as a mortal, was some of the most beautiful time a soul could experience.
Isshin truly believed this. He had been dead for a long - what felt like eternal - time, and for much of that time he had been a shinigami. It was so continual; he barely aged, he rarely got to experience anything other than what he had to deal with for his job. The old proverbs were true; mortal lives were made so magnificent just by their brevity.
He jumped to the next rooftop.
The town was called Karakura - he had visited before. Something about the place called to him - there was an energy there, a higher concentration of spiritually gifted humans than he'd ever seen before. With a deep breath, he jumped over to the next rooftop. But he stopped, still in a crouch, when he saw that there was something else there. The figure of a young woman, her back to him, sat near the edge of the building.
She stiffened as he watched her, almost as though she could feel his eyes. But she couldn't have known he was there - he could feel her reiatsu, a weak trembling thing. He'd wager she could sense - maybe see - ghosts, but certainly not shinigami. The wind picked up a little and he stood up straight, his hand releasing the hilt of his zanpakutou. She looked so fragile, sitting there alone, her honey colored hair blowing out in the wind.
Isshin took a step closer. She sat up a little straighter; then slowly she turned towards him, strands of hair whipping across her face, trails of tears down each of her cheeks. His breath caught. Even if her stare was blank, even if she couldn't see him... she knew he was there. And she was beautiful - trembling and crying, her arms wrapped around her body. It was late; she was one of the very few people he had seen that night. Why was she out alone when it was so late?
"Wh-who's there?" she asked loudly, obviously frightened. "If you're a ghost, then... then just go away! Leave me alone!" She sniffled quietly and her eyes filled with tears. "Just leave me alone..."
He didn't know what to do. "Can you... see me?" he asked. The girl didn't react at all. No, she couldn't see him. He took a step closer, reaching out towards her. Her eyes were blank, glassy with tears.
Her hand reached out for his, as well. Her fingers trembled, and he could hear her soft, shallow breathing.
"I don't know why you're here," she said, her voice quaky and frail, "but you should leave. You should go! Wh-what I do is my business. I'm..." Her hand fell and she looked away. Her voice had trailed off, and when at last she spoke again, it was nothing but a whisper. "I'm not happy. I'm tired of everything, ghost." She smiled sadly. "Everything."
It startled Isshin to realize exactly why she was sitting on the rooftop of a building alone in the middle of the night. She wasn't happy... She was tired...
This beautiful young woman was thinking of ending her own life.
Isshin couldn't understand that at all. Why would she want to give up such an existence? True, he knew nothing of her life - but if she wound up in one of the rougher districts of Rukongai, chances are things wouldn't improve - or might even get worse. He wished he could help her: talk to her, touch her, comfort her.
The girl turned away from him, facing towards the street below them. "Don't worry," she said. "Or maybe you'll be disappointed. I don't know." He heard a bubbling sob, could almost swear he could smell her fresh tears. "I won't jump."
And he stood - captivated, entranced - as she stared up at the inky black sky.
I hope you enjoyed. Reviews are always appreciated! I had originally planned for this to stand alone, but I think it will end up being the first in a series of one-shots.