Well, I decided to practice a little more and chose this character. I created a little depth for her--at least I hope I did. I tried to relay it, not through telling, but by showing. This is third-person, yes, but it's close to first so it might seem to contradict the meaning. Hopefully, you can catch it.
Critiques would be most appreciated. And so would some in-sight on the feelings this gave you or any thoughts/questions it brought up.
If I owned Bleach, this wouldn't be fanfiction, would it? Plus... I'm not a man in Japan named Kubo. :P
Michiru knew her role in the world wasn't that important. After all, she was easily scared and was painfully shy to those outside her group.
She was plain, brown-haired and grey eyed, but not ugly and could even be considered cute by some. She was stubborn when she wanted something but compliant in all other times. She was fiercely loyal but so were all teenage girls until they drifted.
However, when Orihime seemed to disappear, she found that she wasn't drifting.
She was worrying.
It didn't help that the two scary friends of Orihime's vanished shortly after. Tatsuki was the only one who seemed to care about those two as well, Chizuru worried only for 'her hime' and Ryo obviously didn't care much since, as far as she was concerned, the only one she even remotely thought about was Ishida because of his high grades. Now she had less competition.
Michiru's thoughts remained this way in her dreams.
As she slept, she dreamt of searching.
Of glowing glasses and scary glares. Or furrowed brows and spiky hair.
She dreamt of a girl she'd never seen and giant boy who was kind.
She dreamt of Tatsuki and her strength. Of Ryo and her ambition. Of Chizuru and her quirks. Of Mahana and her naivety.
But mostly, she dreamt of Orihime.
Not the Orihime she knew, but a different one.
One that was strong and brave with guarded eyes and pain burdened upon her heart.
Beside her there was a man—a monster. He wasn't just one. He was both.
And he shielded her while cutting her down.
He made her cry while keeping her strong.
And all Michiru could do as watch from her prison of ordinary dreams and ordinary days. Watching one of her dearest friends fighting an internal battle between what was right and what was selfish.
Her friends or her town?
Michiru guiltily realized she would probably choose her friends. She was selfish that way.
Then again, all her friends were gone into different worlds, it seemed.
And she slipped farther into her own world of white walls and stuffed toys. Of a boy who could sew and another that protected. Of the woman with the glasses and stern kindness. Of papers and pillows and a warm drink of chocolate.
Memories mixed with fantasies.
And she slipped down, tumbled down.
Farther, she fell. Farther, she dropped.
Michiru was trapped in her dreams and though she didn't know why, she had a feeling those unordinary and those precious to her—the boys who frightened her and the friend she held close—would be the one to save her.
All she could do was wait.