Disclaimer : Not Mine.
Warnings: perhaps spoilers for the Hueco Mundo Arc, yaoi/BL, GrimmIchi, implied MPREG
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It all started without warning.
The young child's mind found it difficult to understand what was happening to his home. The hall whose pristine white walls which he used to scribble all over, earning disapproving looks from his uncles was being blasted through left and right. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest, it seemed as if it would beat right out it, leaving a hole in its place. The boy carefully peered his head around the corner as a few thunderous roars preceded the oncoming assault. Figures clad entirely in black rushed through the destroyed walls, making no note of the crumbling plaster as they filled into the halls. It was an alien sight to those golden eyes wide with fear and yet a little bit of curiosity as they have become accustomed to the usual white scenery.
The boy watched frozen in place as the servant guards of the palace appear in response to the number of intruders invading his home. His basic instinct tells him to flee for safety but a deeper part of him hungers for the fight, urging him to join in the battle. The sound of clashing steel resounded in his ears, reminding him of the time when he watched his uncles occasionally spar. However as he heard the horrible pained screeching of the guards, he knew that this was not a fighting exercise conjured up for training. As the realization that the palace guards were steadily losing the battle against the odd techniques of the invaders' swords set in, the fear in him grew and took over as the boy turned around and ran.
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Kuchiki Rukia gripped the scabbard of her Zanpakuto tightly as the mass fighting went on before her eyes, her lips pursed into a thin line and a light frown marred her forehead.
Five years.
It had taken five years for them to regroup and find the opportunity to fight back against Aizen and his army. The time that had passed since that failure of a day was spent in gathering information and readying troops in preparation for a final battle here in Hueco Mundo. Her eyes closed almost automatically as flashes of the botched attempt to rescue Inoue flitted through her mind bringing on old feelings of guilt. Indeed if anyone asked her for a formal report, she would have to say that the rescue was in fact a success, that Inoue Orihime was brought back safely from the clutches of the former Shinigami captain. However the price of that success was too high. They had lost one of their most precious comrades, a certain orange haired boy. Inoue had cried for days, drowning in her own tears and guilt and Rukia would have comforted her if not of her own desire to drown along with the grieving girl.
Hardened eyes flashed back open as she dodged to her right, avoiding the thrust of the blade that would have pierced through heart. With a quick slash of her Zanpakuto, her attacker went down swiftly and the Shinigami shifted her gaze back to the battlefield. So far only low level Numeros were engaging in the battle against the Gotei 13, giving them an obvious upper hand. Mere servants she assumed. The 13 squads led by their individual captains were gradually pushing them back but Rukia knew it was only a matter of time before the higher ranked Arrancar joined in. The Espada, ranked from ten to one, they were the true fighting force to be reckoned with. And Rukia hated them all. Spending those five years, training from dawn to dusk like a person possessed, her only goal was to defeat the bastards that murdered her friend.
She slashed through the another Numero who decided that she looked like fair game and then another and another. It was during her mindless slaying when a familiar spike of reiatsu brushed through her senses. It alarmed her to a standstill, her body tense and her eyes searching. It had been brief and though the familiar identity of the reiatsu came through, Rukia knew this one was different, weaker and full of unbridled fear. And as the Shinigami honed her senses to search among the mass of bodies, the strength of the reiatsu grew farther in distance as if the source was moving away. Her body reacted instinctively, abandoning the battle field to pursue a fleeting suspicion.
Rukia raced towards the source, following it through a maze of hallways and corridors that all look the same. She briefly thought of the person who designed the interior of this place and muttered a quick curse when thinking of finding her way back. Her target seemed anxious but familiar with the passageways, making abrupt turns every now and then, the pace however slowing little by little. Though the target seemed to be unaware of someone tailing its back, Rukia did not take any chances and chose to remain a few paces behind in case of an ambushed attack. Coming to halt around a corner, the Shinigami paused for a moment before slowly peeking around the edge.
Looking at the source of the reiatsu for the first time, Rukia was mildly surprised that a child no older than ten stood in her view. The child's teal coloured hair flew around his young face, paying her no heed as he began knocking the door in front of him frantically. The boy seemed human and she wondered if he was a prisoner, taken captive from the human world and looking for help to return home. Wanting to help but still feeling cautious, she edged slowly towards the child, startled however as he started to shout.
"Mama, open the door! The palace...black people...attack us! Yuki...scared. Please open!"
Between the knocks and the desperate shouts, Rukia was approaching closer to the boy, ready to grab him from behind to calm him down and perhaps question him of his situation in this desolate home of the Hollows. She barely had the time however to react when the door opened all of a sudden and the boy seemingly disappeared from her view. She barely had the time, her hands moving to the hilt of her sword and drawing it, just as a swift and heavy blow hit her blade with a decisive clank of steel against steel. And as she summoned the energy to push her attacker off her, she barely had the time to gasp in disbelief.
Clad in the pure white uniform of the Arrancar, stood Kurosaki Ichigo with a thin Zanpakuto in his hand, staring at her with harsh murderous eyes.
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Ok Note:
So I started this new story because I can't get it out of my mind. I read a lot of wonderful stories here and it got me thinking of my own. And bear in mind, I haven't written a story for about 2 years? My other readers are just gonna kill me for not updating my older fics. But sorry about that, I've just lost interest in those. And this story would probably be updated very slow as well...so I hope you enjoy it nevertheless. Thanks for reading.