I know promised this account strictly for Harry Potter fiction and my other account for different categories of fiction but I'm admittedly thinking of abandoning/deleting my latter account and I already uploaded the story under this username and said, hey, why not? :D (Rhetorical question, I know. That's why I placed a convenient smiley at the end. To make it better.) But, yes my avid Harry Potter followers, I enjoy anime too. Well, actually, just these two in particular. I wouldn't say I'm very fond of any others.

Anyway, regarding the story's plot and time… I'm pretty sure their separate plot lines were the farthest thing from being parallel, but both universes' need for perfect justice is pretty much on the same level. Except one has a boy with trusty a Death Note in hand and the other a man with Espadas at his beckoning call. So, with that said, I'm still pretty impartial of where I should post this story's category under. It might change within time if the plot decides to unfold in Rukia and Ichigo's perceptive opposed to L's, so we'll see. And, also, I imagine this story taking place a little after Ichigo and company save Orihime from Hueco Mundo.

And on that final note, enjoy? &oh, I'd love feedback :D

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In Fragments
I
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'But the beginning of things, of a world especially, is necessarily vague, tangled, chaotic, and exceedingly, disturbing.'
-The Awakening; Kate Chopin.

L opened his eyes.

The world shifted from splotches of black and white to large pools of color within a stretched moment. Gray flattened the ground's horizon and he languidly leaned forward off of his back and onto his knees, the flesh of his palms eventually meeting the cold pavement. He then inclined his chin skyward and blinked to better his blurry view of his current surroundings.

Trash was scattered about him; discarded silver bags glittering from the glow of artificial lights littered around the grimy street corners that multiplied as his eyes continued to search for more. Noises were buzzing above him but he didn't seem to have the ability to reach them; to experience the loud sounds of cars honking and rubbing against worn gravel, instead they had simply spread across the air like a spark eating oxygen and eluded his ears.

He supposed he was well past dead now.

There was a faint and familiar clinkclink that mirrored his slow movements and he nearly wondered if he was still attached to the personification of justice but he stopped himself, vividly recalling he had fallen out of a chair when he passed. Tucking his chin to his chest he found a chain bleeding from his chest and he fingered the rigid object with mild curiosity.

Clinkclinkclink was its lethargic response.

How peculiar.

L was not a man that acted upon religious beliefs; however, the knowledge that he held of several religions he became acquainted with over the years never once regarded a chain hanging from your heart once you were dead. But what did that mean in the long run? Nothing. He was still standing here with a hole in his chest and a linked metal rope attached to it despite the numerous religious views he studied. He always assumed religion was, more or less, an ideal element of deception, a way to morally bind people to the lesser evils opposed to the greater ones the world regularly tempted. Standing to his feet with his chain chasing him, he wondered if anyone besides himself stumbled across the thought that the same temptation that led mortals to hell was often created by the mortals themselves.

Once again he peered upward and found no heaven shining upon him. The last of the stars were faded from Tokyo's synthetic lights while the city's chipped skyscrapers pushed the sky away.

He shoved his hands into his jeans' pockets. Perhaps he should have killed Kira with his own hands when he had the chance.

There is no Heaven or Hell. There is only conceptualism.

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Ichigo and Rukia continued to race across tattered fields of blackened cement, zipping through abandoned alleyways lost to the rest of the moving world, and into heavily polluted air that blanketed the more run-down areas of the city. Their rapid footsteps were immaculate, thought of moments in advance in order to carefully disengage themselves from the living realm they had to avoid unless they favored strange, wide eyes following papers scattered about without a breeze or people stumbling to regain their balance when notably nothing should have left them tumbling to the ground.

This trip to the city was not favorable, after all. Simply a business matter that must be taken care of.

Which was admittedly odd to Ichigo, who had not ventured out of his town this far in the Living World to simply cleanse a hollow or send a soul to the Soul Society in his short timespan of becoming a Shinigami. He didn't have much of an opportunity to question Rukia's assignment, though, being immediately dragged to the city miles piled upon miles away. Only when she halted did his thoughts burst from his gasping mouth.

"Why… the hell… are we in Tokyo?"

Her sharp eyes met his. "Renji alerted me there's recently been…spiritual activity here. We hadn't gotten word of it lately because we were too preoccupied with Hueco Mundo." She frowned as her eyes left her companion to the streets lined with action and liveliness. "However, even with the heightened amount of spiritual activity, hollows haven't been attracted to Tokyo."

Ichigo knitted his eyebrows together, equally perplexed at the comprising situation as Rukia was. "But that doesn't make any sense. I mean, if there's any type of spiritual activity that usually means hollows are to blame."

"Which makes this case that much more abnormal," replied Rukia. "But also, as of now, trivial to the Winter War–" she paused before turning to her friend, "did you feel that?"

"Yeah," he muttered, instinctively unsheathing his sword as an unsettling feeling peeked aside of his senses. His eyes surveyed the busy streets only to eventually fall upon an expired soul standing in a slumped manner with wide eyes watching the passing situation as his dilated pupils reflected the blur of animated lights dazzling the dark atmosphere around them. The man appeared unmarred, apparently having not experienced a painful and horrific death, while he wore a stoic face and held a slouched position. "That's the guy we came over here for?"

Rukia squinted, observing the strange individual with aberrant features foreign to Japan's inhabitants and culture. There was a precise, calculating air about him, nearly dispassionate. She frowned. Dispassion and souls shouldn't intersect. If such happened, usually, the outcome wasn't… good, in simple terms.

A vague image of Aizen had fled from the back of her mind and sprung to the forefront of her vision until she hastily blinked it away.

When the dubious girl hadn't replied, the teen rolled his eyes and pointed the hilt of his sword toward the man. "Whatever then." he muttered, "I'll just get this over with."

He moved forward without Rukia's consent and she followed in suit, her step faltering when the soul eventually acknowledged their approaching bodies. His detached stare initially ensnared their movements in a web of hesitation until Ichigo broke forward, his lips parting to introduce himself and go over the usual formalities. The soul, however, interrupted the incident speech to come.

"Strange attire to be wearing during the week," he commented with little tone to his backhanded utterance. Ichigo scowled.

"Listen you–"

"We're Shinigamis," Rukia informed before Ichigo could continue; inwardly praising herself when she appeared to have gotten a slight reaction out of the seemingly nonchalant man. "We're here to pass you on to the other world."

The man moved his thumb to his bottom lip. "How strange indeed," he stated impartially. "Would you believe me if I claimed to have met a few other Shinigamis before?" His hand fell from his mouth, slipping back into his empty pocket. Ichigo's bitter expression fell alongside the soul's hand. "However, they carried notebooks opposed to wielding swords."

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Um. Reviews? Suggestions? I'd love to hear them :)