"S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse

A persona che mai tornasse al mondo

Questa fiamma staria senz piu scosse

Ma perciocche vivo alcun, s'i'odo il verdo

Senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo"

"If I thought my answer were given

to anyone who would ever return to the

world,

this flame would stand still without moving

any further.

But since never from this abyss

Has anyone ever returned alive, if what I hear is true,

without fear of infamy I answer you."

-Dante's "Inferno"

SHINJUTSU

Prologue

A Hush has fallen over the land. Quiet musings, whispering in the ears of no one. Shadows dance, a nameless being chuckling in playful intent, causing them to twist and turn and reach into every corner and place and soul and it is infectious, corrupting.

Long has the light gone out of the land, the sun doubtful to ever return – and life has all but fled. Amongst the dreary grip of darkness, two figures move through the thick shadows with stubborn intent.

Breath in, breath out; they are gasping desperately for air. Light bursts forth. Then finally, hands askew and eyes wide with awe and happiness, do they finally reach the end?

Nay, for the darkness is insidious and its reach is far. The two are but a small blip on the map.

That was yesteryear.

Chapter One: La Mia Famiglia [My Family.]

The sun rose with little fuss over the small county. In synch with the morning, brown eyes fluttered open, cracking and straining in defiance against waking this pleasant Sunday morning. The blanket remained quite snug upon the half-woken man as he emitted a moan, turned, and was lulled back into sleep.

Today, while significant in some sense, in the sense that a bird soon leaves the nest, or how one realizes they cannot live by charity of their parents alone - today was, to the man, like any other day. However naïve the thought was he knew no better.

And then the knocking came. Today was supposed to be a day of celebration. He would be a real man today. The eighteenth year of his life was here. But he has long passed into apathy, and a normally joyous occasion turned into a dreary ritual that he loathed getting up to greet. Kurosaki Ichigo was tired of life.

Without speaking, he rose from the bed, the door opening sharply as a petite girl barely around the age of fourteen stomped into the room. A large party hat flew at him, flung deftly from the girl's hand as she spoke,

"Lazy bum! It's your birthday; do you intend to be late to your own party?" Said 'lazy bum' shrieked in mock horror, snatching the hat before it hit his face.

"It's my own damn party," Ichigo rumbled as he moved at a painfully slow pace for his clothes,

"I'd be on time and they'd be early."

Yuzu, with a steady but dangerous tone, rebuked him,

"And all of our mother's side is here." It was a slight exaggeration but nearly verbatim. Their father had invited many aunts, uncles, and cousins from obscurity, and most he didn't know or care to remember. However, the fact that they were their mother's relatives provoked a faster pace for the man. Even if he hated family functions, it was only for one day, and he could endure just that.

With mustered courage, Ichigo was dressed. The stairs seemed longer then they should, and he noticed a strange sense of fear. It was odd, because such a feeling only came when he was in danger – this was a birthday celebration, so that couldn't be what it was. So why did he feel so scared? Like death was creeping up on him?

His throat tightened suddenly as he reached the bottom of the steps. There were people there, smiling up at him with what seemed to be awe. Nameless as they were, their presence was coated in familiarity. One nameless figure in particular broke the tension first, going to him with confidence and with pleasant sincerity in her voice. Her hair was orange, much like his own, but was 'highlighted' with streaks of black which made her look like a Halloween disaster.

"Oh, it's so good to see you again, little Cousin! Look at you, all grown up, and manly." Ichigo stared back at the woman with a detached interest, giving her the best smile he could muster,

"I guess I am an adult today, huh?" He paused, "What was your name again? I can't seem to..." The nameless one gave a sigh, and appeared to shudder a bit as if she were smoothing invisible feathers on her sun-kissed skin.

"It is Ito Yumi," The no-longer nameless one declared proudly, "I am the daughter of the oldest sibling, Ito Yuko. She was your mother's older sister."

Ito Yumi...her name brought images to his mind. Ichigo remembered the cold funeral that came following his mother's death, and his grief. The same woman called Yumi was there, nine years before. She had kneeled down to him, cupped his face in her hands and kissed his forehead, telling him to remain strong for his family, especially the two smaller ones.

The same Yumi was now here, celebrating his coming of age.

She barely looked a day over 20.

"I remember you now," Ichigo croaked out, "You're...exactly the same as you were before. You look exactly the same...!"

While the other nameless figures looked on in anxiety at the almost accusatory tone in his voice, Yumi hardly missed a beat; she smoothed her hair, smiled and touched her own cheek,

"Maybe you should get those adorable reading glasses of yours out now, my darling cousin. I'm getting older, you see! Wrinkles, however light they may be, are starting to plague me! I'm 32 now, you see!" She was a very quick liar, and the power of suggestion is quite powerful.

It wasn't powerful enough.

"Right, right, I'll take your word for it," Ichigo mentally took note of that fact and began to examine the crowd. The more he looked around, the more he noticed the sheer youth of the relatives around him. Their ages varied, but no one could doubt the vibrant expressions on their faces and energy that bubbled forth from them.

'They're all so young...' The most disturbing example in particular was little Nalial Melody, the youngest of the cousins and from their American side of the family. He had last seen her when he was seven, and she was the same age as he. Yet here she was, looking no different from before. She hadn't aged at all. Was this some kind of joke? Did they honestly think he wasn't going to remember any of them? Did they honestly think he was that ignorant, or that he was that unobservant?

White flashed in his peripheral vision suddenly. Two sky-blue eyes stared up at him, inquisitive and unassuming. Her hair was cropped at her shoulders, a shiny platinum blonde; her skin was milky and pale...it held no sign of color or life.

"You're late." Her voice was soft and gentle, but it shot through everyone else's voices with intensity, drowning out all else with the sheer volume of it. It was like she was yelling in his mind, her presence overwhelming and omnipresent. Ichigo's knees shook and he faltered, falling to them from the sudden force of her mere words.

"There's no need to worry," Her voice was so kind, so loving...it was like the voice of soothing mother. She reached out and stroked his cheek. It burned his cheek, but he could not move away for fear it would anger her.

"Go ahead and sleep, you have a long trial ahead of you." Though his whole attention was focused on the girl, he managed to take notice that the room was silent now. There were figures above him, dark and shadowy in comparison to the pale woman's light that seemed to radiate from her very body. 15 figures, their eyes varying in size and intensity, but all the same sky-blue.

They were staring into his soul, moving closer still as the girl continued to caress him and smile sweetly at him.

Then the darkness took him.

End Chapter One. Thoughts, comments?