Fandom: Bleach
Title: In Between
Pairing/Characters: Future JushiroxIchigo
Summary: The famed cruelty of the Hiroshima Hollows isn't entirely deserved, but that's not to say they did not thoroughly frighten the Shinigami. - He looked up anew, took a deep breath and felt the beautiful weight of death in his lungs, satisfying in an absurd way. He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the sky; and felt the smooth breeze of the living and he cherished it. He had never felt this as a shinigami, it must be a plus thing. All over his skin was a dimly pleasurable hum of life around him, the feeling of the pulse of the Earth slide over his flesh was glorious.
[this is an excerpt from a story that I intend to be larger, but as of right now it is a scattered collection of scenes. Inspired by the quote from "Things They Carried" By Tim O'Brian, this is an AU where Bleach takes place during World War 2- the events described immediately follow the bombing of Hiroshima where the Kurosaki-s live.
Length: This part is about 1,200-ish words
Rating: Light M for bodily horror and a smutty line
In the ordinary hours of life I try not to dwell on it, but now and then, when I'm just reading a newspaper or sitting alone in a room, I'll look up and see the young man step out of the morning fog. I'll watch him walk toward me, his shoulders slightly stooped, his head cocked to the side, and he'll pass within a few yards of me and suddenly smile at some secret thought and then continue up the trail to where it bends back into the fog.
"Things They Carried" By Tim O'Brian
Juushiro was sitting at his desk, the papers in front of him menial and average. There were few things to really worry about anymore.
Really.
He coughed a bit and sipped some tea, and filled out the paper work. He didn't need to pause to compose his thoughts anymore; they just flowed out in a tepid deluge that described how such and such a mission went and what they accomplished.
He gave a small smile when he heard his lieutenant admonishing his third seats, but frowned again when he felt the beginnings of a backache, it was a festering ache.
The stench of death and decay was already hanging heavily when he was sent with the relief crew to give konso. Hiroshima was in ruins; parts burning, others just falling apart, and everyone was charged with finding dead and bringing them to Soul Society. But it was difficult work, some people weren't dead- not yet anyway- their bodies just rotting while they laid on the ground, muttering for water, the stench of death heavy and the thick smoke from the bomb sickening. There was a taste of the taboo of life-death in the air.
He found him near where Ichigo went to high school, climbing the wooded path of his hill.
Ichigo, the right half of his face ripped up where the blast had hit him, looked at him and gave him a fond smile, the left half gently letting out tears from pain but the smile still strong, and the right half twitched sporadically, the dead red of putrefying flesh missing skin and muscles in some places. Ukitake looked at him, eyes appalled anew as he saw the hero of Soul Society dying before him, his face was a farce of itself, the handsome features decaying before him.
"It doesn't hurt, Ukitake-san," he said, voice almost cheery, and a fly began to crawl around his right half, it made his stomach churn to see it clamber on his dead face, "No, it doesn't at all, I'll be fine, I'm going to go find Yuzu and Karin" He made a move to turn, and then looked back, "Do you think Goat-face is okay?" and Jushiro opened his mouth to answer when Ichigo finished, "No, he's fine too, I can feel it. I need to find some water first though," and with that, Ichigo turned away from him, part of his school uniform singed and falling off, and his steps stumbling slightly to one side.
He made a move to follow Ichigo, but he cursed as he went to beat the spirits of dead dogs whom had begun to turn on their human masters in death. When he managed to get a look over his shoulder, he saw Ichigo high on the hill.
His right forearm was gone.
And the left twitched.
And Ichigo was never seen after that.
His right eye a star of brown, the rest of his flesh, even the living parts, ripped and horribly still supple and living in other places. Where the pattern in his long abandoned shirt was, the imprint was burned into his skin.
"Shun-" the voice was quiet, "What if he's a hollow now?" They didn't say how especially terrifying the Hiroshima hollows were, screaming their indignation and sorrow to the world only days later, their soul chain disintegrating so quickly with the terrible ferocity of radiation.
His sisters and family lived in a small estate in Soul Society now, comfortably with their father a captain and Karin in the academy. Things were settled, the Winter War long over now, the last of all troops recovered and well now.
"He's not," Shun said quietly, "He's too-" he paused, "he's strong of heart. We would have heard his cries before now, if- if" Shunsui rolled over on his bed to gaze at Jushiro's pale face across the room, "he's not."
He was dead.
He looked up anew, took a deep breath and felt the beautiful weight of death in his lungs, satisfying in an absurd way. He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the sky; and felt the smooth breeze of the living and he cherished it. He had never felt this as a shinigami, it must be a plus thing. All over his skin was a dimly pleasurable hum of life around him, the feeling of the pulse of the Earth slide over his flesh was glorious.
And he began to shriek; it was delightfully relieving to scream. He didn't say words, just a raw noise that was more than words could convey, primal but more than a Hollow noise, a feeling of joy erupted within him. He felt the slide of the air around him, his screaming frightened the little wildlife that still remained, the radiation having killed most things either by the blast or by the fires. The freedom that he felt was so utterly delicious, the cycle of life and death embodied in his metaphysical form: he was the in between, the forgotten plus among hundreds of thousands of other pluses he heard around him.
Zangetsu laid asleep in his inner world and Hollow, solemn for once, assured him Zangetsu would wake up at the right time. All he could do was summon raw power and Hollow's sword. But even that did not peturb him- all things came in a strange form now and this was but one of many peculiarities in his life.
It was unmistakable, Hitsuguya Toshiro froze in his tracks when he saw the figure on the tree top, Kurosaki Ichigo was in the human world, damaged though he may be the man still existed in this realm. A cat smile on a lovely scarred face- how frightening!
"Fuck me," he moaned, stretching his slender limbs, when he didn't hear Jushiro move, he opened his eyes and looked at him. He scowled at him, a low growling in his throat, and Ichigo began to stretch his chest out and slip out of his clothes.
Jushiro stayed in the doorway, weary, "You're not of your mind, Kurosaki-kun, I can't-"
"You won't," the hollow-boy corrected and continued to bare himself in the humid room, "I'll even show you a good-"
"Stop," he said firmly, binding Ichigo's wrists with kidou, Jushiro's eyes narrowed, "we'll speak later when you're calm."
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