Disclaimer: Newsflash! If I owned Bleach I wouldn't be writing FFs for it... xP
AN: Ummm... Enjoy, reveiws are always wonderful, and I apologize in advance for everything. If this gets popular I might even get a beta for it?!?! I really don't know why I'm so excited, but I am. Wouldn't want my grammar to fail infront of the masses now would I? Oh, this was spawned by my love for Ichigo, Hichigo, the possibility of a Hell-arc, and my love of torture scences. More to come soonish.. maybe.
Oh! and I know the second thing has been used half a gillion times and better than I did, but I hope i did it justice.
Five Years Ago: Winter War, Kakura Town The Winter War at Kakura town ended with the opening of The Gate. The doorway was regurgitated from the ground, quickly and unceremoniously. It seemed as though the earth couldn't wait to rid itself of it. Which was only understandable, what in the universe, living or dead, human, beast or thing would want hell living inside it? Looming high above Kakura, it leered down at the tangle of loser and victor, blotting out the sun. If anything, Kakura was now a setting more befitting to the Winter War, the sun no longer shone mockingly on the carnage down below. Around him, soul reaper and vizard began lifting their nakama off the war-torn streets and honoring the dead, wading through the blood that had pooled around them. Divisions regrouped and those who could helped the medics. Captains Kenpachi, Kuchiki and Mayuri arrived a few hours after the close of the war. Kenpachi cursed profusely and loudly complained about how he missed the fighting. He was silenced by a sharp look from Unohana and a smack on the head, courtesy of Yachiru. General Yamato later called a council with his remaining Captains to discuss The Gate, but no conclusions were reached, and The Gate continued to stand above Kakura for twenty-four hours. Oddly, its disappearance coincided with a certain Substitute Shinigami's first awakening. The first images his brain comprehended were hazy and disjointed. He failed to feel anything. As his vision returned, he craned his neck and saw the grubby tile floor he was laying on. His brain associated it with discomfort but none came. It was... Disorienting at first, and then disorientation gave way to panic… Something was wrong. Looking down, he could see wounds, gaping and angry red. Stark white bandages covered what he assumed to be the more serious abrasions, yet he could feel nothing. For a fleeting moment he wondered if he was dead. He knew plenty about human deaths, but what he knew about death for the dead was exceedingly small. He wished for pain. Conformation that he was alive- or as close to alive as he could get in his spirit form. He would regret thinking that. It would happen in about twenty seconds. He saw something move out the corner of his eye. He saw his muscles tense, and again felt nothing, though he wished he had. Fifteen seconds until he would regret wishing that. He heard steps, and assumed-and hoped that it was a friend. He remembered dealing the final blow to Aizen, but couldn't be sure. The details were still a little hazy. He wondered about his nakama. Were they safe? Were they even alive? For the second time, panic began to claw at his chest, spawning one of his infamous and completely stupid decisions. If he couldn't feel pain, why not make the most of it? There was nothing stopping him from getting up. It took him about ten seconds to rise off the ground.It was kind of like when his foot fell asleep and he couldn't properly feel it to walk. Five seconds before he would wish he had stayed put. He hit the ground with a loud thud. Something had pushed him down. What? Desperately he hoped to see Unohana-san's face, reprimanding him in her stern but gentle way, or Rukia's even, calling him an idiot for trying to get up with his wounds. The thing he saw didn't even have a face. Fear, primal and dominating overtook him. Somewhere, buried in his DNA, instinct was telling him to get away from this thing. He couldn't. He wasn't sure if fear, or the faceless creature had bound him, but he couldn't move. His regret was upon him. Zero Seconds. It reached out an obsidian-black hand. At first the hand had looked insubstantial to him, harmless, as if made of smoke, until he saw. Saw that its rank fingernails tapered to a treacherous point, and were stained with different shades of red. Red that was undeniably blood, some old and some fresh. Dried and Dripping. Panic gripped him again, as the red nails descended on his exposed arm, and began to carve his flesh. Pain, more acute and intense than any he had the misfortune of ever knowing coursed through him. For a few unbearable seconds-no hours- he endured. Every cell screamed. He was being ripped apart slowly. Most in pain have death to look forward to. A ceasing in existence is a ceasing in pain. In his shinigami form, he could die and it would be final. Kurosaki Ichigo knew though, he would not be allowed that luxury. He wouldn't allow himself to have it. In the throes of pain faces swam across his vision; his family and his friends. He couldn't leave them, not like this. It was an unconscious decision, made by the small fraction of his thought that hadn't been devoured by agony. It was his nature speaking. And so, the Protector protected his loved ones from his own death, holding on to sanity for as long as he could. Done, It lifted its hand and faded. He didn't even comprehend it, hanging somewhere between delirium and sane thought. The pain that had kept him semi-consciousness, every nerve on fire, lessened slightly, and his body shut down, in too much shock to preform its duties with him awake. Unconsciousness enveloped him.
The Gate was the last thing Kurosaki Ichigo saw before he lost his fight against unconsciousness.
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