Krimson

by aur11

A millennium's prophecy. No problem. A millennium's love curse? Now that he wasn't counting on.

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

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Relieved, Ichigo Kurosaki splayed his arms behind his throbbing head aloft the grass, and took a moment of peace to delay whatever thoughts clogging his mind to a very far region, hoping the headache would leave. He figured it was better this way.

Staring up at the many splashes of gentle violets and warm scarlet, he adjusted his eyes once again to see the translucent whites and blues just beneath the colors of dawn. Hues of nameless colors accentuated the many lights chasing each other across the fresh sky, replacing the stars. Unknowingly, something others wouldn't be able to prove with their eye sight, compared to his. But unlike others, Ichigo could see the many hidden intricacies the sky had to offer with such clarity he wondered how no one else could see it the way he could. The many different shapes, the sights...

The beginning of brand new colors.

Each day was a new one to his collection of musings. He liked to opt for the color of the day. And today it was a murky sad one.

Just when the first rays of gold reached the upper leaves of the trees, he witnessed an explosion of otherworldly hues. So many, so bright and uncommonly dark shifting into the most radiant of hues and blanketing the entire landscape, through the trees, with life. A wave of warmth, surely induced by the explosion, scattered atop the other colors. This was his favorite part.

Ichigo inhaled deeply, breathing the golden warmth along the many scents of tree musk, soil extracts and every other piece of nature, as they all clashed together into a bundle. He watched his heated breath as he exhaled deeply. He could feel every smell like if he was there caressing them himself. The bittersweet smokiness of the rough trunks, the rich and dense perfume of soil as its imaginary texture slid through his fingers, the misty and fresh blades of grass weaving through his entire body like silk. The feel of them translating into smell.

Now, this is the crack of dawn, he thought, a genuine smile clinging to his lips.

Unlike others, Ichigo could smell the most unimaginable of scents; some he was sure no one else thought existed in the face of the earth. Unlike others, he could feel in every sense of the word, if not more. Something humans wouldn't be capable of ever accomplishing, even in their wildest dreams. He didn't just know the feels, he could also clarify them into smell, see them in unusual forms, and hear them like no other being could. All at the same time. Like if all of his senses where connected in every sense of the word's meaning, if not more. In fact, connected wouldn't even describe what they were. All of his senses were merged, creating a different sense of reality altogether. A sensation so strong and so delicate to describe with merely words.

But right now, he relished the moment. Right now, he just let his senses take over as if he had no say of anything. In short, he became one with his body.

The cool, morning breeze caressed his disheveled orange hair. A tingle of warmth traveled down his hair roots to his skull. The breeze continued its surge from his face, down his bare chest, all the way to his exposed toes. He tasted the lingering air on his lips when he flicked his tongue across them and tasted freedom. His body felt as if being covered with water, yet he couldn't feel more exposed to the world. He closed his eyes in concentration as if to take note of it all for later reference in case he forgot. Slim chance.

His skin glistened with mildew; it absorbed the warmth of the morning as he unintentionally shivered once every sensation united into an everlasting thread of pleasure.

He outstretched his limbs furthermost as possible. As if everything would be at arm's reach if he set his mind to it.

It was days like these that he felt like he could do the impossible.

A wistful sigh flew past his mouth. It was also days like these that made him realize the unfairness of everything else. For a moment, just for a fraction of a second, he hated this.

Stop it.

He sensed the tension in the crease of his eyebrows as he frowned, and quickly unfolded the crease. Ichigo wasn't one to fully accept his feelings. He preferred to favor what was already offered to him, all that nature provided him instead of dwelling on what he didn't want to know, and spare his feelings. He had enough of that as it was.

Ichigo reminisced as he laid there, in the middle of an out of boundaries grassland, somewhere in between two cities, a clutter of trees right behind him. He liked to think he was the only being in the whole universe whenever he found himself in bearings such as this. He liked to think that he was the first of God's creations and that he must accomplish the feat of exploring the world. Roam through different environments. Different soils, trees, grass. Hike through the many terrains the world had to offer, relish in everything he learned. The knowledge left just for him, no repercussions aside. Not one else but himself and the world.

I could do that, he thought with a faint smile. The morning breeze kneaded his tresses of hair, the spectacular scene of crack of dawn was no longer there, but now the sun fully peeked over the horizon in all its mightiness. It was time to go soon.

An absentminded thought skimmed about his head as he realized the clan assembly was tonight. But as quickly as it came it left.

He sat upright slowly, unwillingly, really. Scouring his bearings, he attempted to memorize the magnificence of the green plains, hills, while trying to remember where he was exactly. Ichigo glanced behind his shoulder to the forest on the back. He knew it was time to go. He couldn't afford any more time, as much as wished to.

Just a week more, he reminded himself. It was late December and the holidays break nearly arrived. Once he was untied he was just as free as to come back. That thought pushed him to his feet at last.

He briefly gave one last lingering look over his shoulders, promising himself he would come back, before flinging himself into the cluster of deciduous ahead with scarce enthusiasm.

Another thing he liked besides peaceful crack of dawns, running.

No, he loved it.

What was better than to feel the wind against your face as you seared right through it? Feel and hear and see and smell all at once. Especially with his heightened senses and all. It was bliss.

At that, he took in a lungful of air, feeling it course through his veins and muscles, exulting more adrenaline. He flared his nostrils with renewed energy, contrasting his no longer calm demeanor as he dodged and dashed in between the masses of protruding branches with irreplaceable agility, as if he was born for this.

"Attention, please." A man poised behind the podium at the end of the room announced, his timid but firm voice reverberated throughout the hollow places of the domed roofs of the church.

Wide, with falling scrapes of its marble structure, the church was long since abandoned for very vague reasons. One, ever since "incidents" were becoming too constant around the area, residents have exiled the holiness of the building and left it to the vine huggers and, unbeknownst, to a certain society. Secondly, ever since the town had industrialized and become more metropolitan, citizens abandoned the church for newer, more modernized ones and with better AC.

The incidents were typically caused by some members of the Cold Ones- who had a knack for scaring people away- and eventually succeeded complete reign over the lonesome vicinity.

Inside the recently inhabited church, Cold Ones accommodated themselves among the molding church benches like home.

"Lights anyone?" Soon enough, the once beautiful but now shattered twin panels were draped over with heavy wool, lessening the irksome amount of light inside the already mossy and dark building.

Then, the assembly began.

The man who had first probed for the gathering's attention made a move to clear his throat and immediately gained the stares of his public with disdainful looks. He adjusted his tie under the stares nervously. "I'll call row first."

At that, the room seated, full of nearly twenty-three members consisting of both men and women mostly all too engaged in conversation and barely acknowledging the man calling row. All here for one purpose: to maintain solid regulations in their society. All here were to listen to the upcoming new laws and orders about to be designated and disputed over for this upcoming year. And those were many as of this year consisted of the much talked about prophecy. It would be a busy year to say the least.

What these rules were, they were what kept the secrecy of this society in pace while catching up on war strategies without giving themselves away to prying eyes, or any public eye that didn't belong to the society.

The man in the front checked off member names. This man, also known as Urahara Kisuke, was in charge of this one clan as the Head Man. The whole society was divided into thirteen divisions, each division consisting of a clan with at most twenty-five members and one Head Man. When they were all brought together they fell under the watchful eye of Council. The thirteen officials falling under the title where the kind of creatures one tended to avoid like the plague at mercy.

He was in charge of organization to say the least. Urahara was not just some ordinary Head Man either. He, like any other notorious Head Man, had to be well acquainted with all sorts of societies. Including the human one. Most would think that being a prominent face would never get the media or other public eye off their backs, but in reality, with so much time invested to show, do all these expected things on the outside, people would think there'd be nothing else stashed in the dark. Nothing to hide from. Why would anyone be hiding something when they were already showing everything they had? Head Men were clever, but it was never an easy job. They relied on counter effects, but sometimes when coins managed to end up on the wrong side, not even the cleverest of them could counter that.

"...Kurosaki," Urahara blew out a resigned sigh at seeing the only owner of the surname nowhere to be seated in the room. It was always the same with this one. Always coming and going as he pleased, never reporting back, never following the norm. And most of all, never, ever showing up to yearly assemblies. Now, Ichigo Kurosaki was the perfect example of 'out-of-order'.

Confused and knowing murmurs crossed the seated rows and Urahara had to regain their attention in order to finish his way down the list.

It was worst of all to imagine what his fellow comrades might think. Ichigo getting the extra treatment.

He hated to belie his motives.

But one thing he couldn't do was lie to himself. As disapproving as he may be appearing to his fellow members, he couldn't have minded much since he couldn't help being worried about him. The boy was such a sap work to deal with sometimes. Though hormones were most to blame, he thought. But even if he admitted that he had quite the soft spot for him, he wasn't going to yield to the position Ichigo frequently placed him under. It went against all of his strategic agenda. Of all society's agenda actually. It had been too many times that Urahara had covered after Ichigo's curiosity messes. The boy was too thickheaded and blunt to fault to understand the danger he brought upon society. One more hit and they both (himself and the boy) were sure as dead before jury even got the word out. At any rate, it seemed that that would never be quite enough for him to put the nerve out there in the open. Not when he'd seen what cruel fate had done to him, Ichigo. Admittedly, Urahara did pity him to fault. Even he knew the outcome of such impact upon a child. A child. Someone with an inane and faultless nature and who had already lost all would bear the millennium's prophecy. Was that fair? And to know the boy wouldn't know what hit him.

However, what Ichigo did was no excuse for him to go about and do what he pleased. Especially while compromising belligerent secrets. Say, like the blaring fact of their existence. But, as always, realizing the soft spot he had for Ichigo, he'd let it pass. He now well knew the fact that this would be the end of his- or should he say his and Ichigo's- own millennium. If he kept his relenting, that is.

In no desire to sour his already dull mood, Urahara proceeded with the assembly.

"Alright, seeing that almost everyone made it," A few in the audience had at least a clue, if not proof, at whom the almost was directed to, "we may proceed with this year'sassigned syndicates..."

Urahara was about to dismiss the church until he saw a hand rose, and so he added with a snort, "Oh! That's right; excuse my intellect glitch-" The room must've missed the pun, but that didn't stop him from grinning, "Any questions?"

He nodded to the one member with the raised arm who hesitated briefly before standing up. The man was clad in casual clothes as opposed to Urahara's formal suit- wife-beater and blue jeans- just like almost everyone else who wasn't positioned in superior human society jobs; say like incorporation owners or actors, but were steady working as lumberjacks or ordinary business men. The whole society was a mix. There was both the high and low status of Cold Ones residing in the human society. This of course was a way to divert any human suspicions (and to inertly amuse themselves). Keeping members jumbled out with the humans also helped maintain their canny covers from...other fallen creatures. It was part of their mission after all.

"Yes, erm, does that mean we won't be able to take any more promotions? Seeing how rigorous time has gone-"

"That all depends," Urahara's grin grew, "If your current position in any way threatens our regulations...or our secrecy, then yes. But I doubt so. Otherwise, you are all free to accept any job promotions, if any." Urahara kept his good natured grin in place as he watched his kinsman gather his jacket hanging behind the bench, "Charm is the one thing we can't disguise." That earned him approving chuckles.

"That all?" The room had already began to disperse and head to the church's heavy entrance, opening the double doors and revealing a mass of vibrant trees that served to keep the church well hidden in the middle of the woods.

"Well in that case, dismissed." Urahara sighed dismissively and rubbed the ridge of his nose with his fingers.

Sooner than thought, the church was left to its previous solitary state as it had once been before it had been infested by Cold Ones. At least, until next year's assembly.

Urahara, being the last remaining, came down the building's steps and headed to the dim glen just ahead of the church where mostly everyone else had gone through. He loosened his green tie, shoved one hand in his slacks' pocket, the other loaded with a thin business portfolio, as he idly made his way down the weed infested granite path, his footsteps echoed behind him in the church and its faint mossy smell trailed after him.

He had a meeting to attend to in around the next half hour at the A&R music industry office, so he expected to fly down to Tokyo soon. Urahara was one of its sponsors. He was to project this month's solos of brand new and underrated artists. But right now he felt like he needed a break. An extensive one for what was to come.

He'd been out of town for the past six months, flying to different states constantly, trying to book this month's artist of the year in as many places possible, while at the same time keeping tabs on his division. Not the easiest feat.

And Urahara's ultimate downfall right now- human society-wise- was that he hadn't even consulted the booking news to his client. His head has been down the gutter for a while now.

He kept walking down the glen with little enthusiasm, and noticed a lurking figure behind the glen's surrounding oaks. Instantly, and unfortunately, he knew who it was.

"Either it's been a long time since you've warmed-up or it has been a long time to know it's you, Yorouichi," Urahara quipped coolly, his voice just above a whisper.

But the figure must've heard him as it emerged from the shadow of a nearby tree, revealing curves all too familiar to him. Her dark chocolate-like skin glowed amidst the setting sun's gaze as it squeezed through the tangled canopy of the trees; her golden tainted eyes glinted through the dimness. Just then he felt the pulsating energy radiate from her, almost crushing with power. The all knowing presence of someone mighty beheld him, and he knew it. Council.

With a purposeful sigh she approached him. "It has been too long indeed to know you've 'warmed-up'," he smiled at that, "But I'm not here to read into your words."

Urahara let himself chuckle, really that's all he could do. "My, my."

They stayed silent for a long moment; both regarded each other with slight politeness. His gaze fell from hers and his smile grew tenuous.

"Where is he?"

"Always right to the point, aren't you? How 'bout Italian over this matter? I've been around long enough to know a thing or two about good wines. For-"

"Not 'for all times sake' today, Kisuke," she cut him off and his gaze met her steely one. Clearly, this was business.

He regarded her, his steady smile never leaving his face. "Alright."

"Where-"

"He's not ready. You like anyone else knows that much. Granted he didn't even show up to this year's either- not that that's surprising."

He held her equally steady gaze as he confessed this. She studied him a few moments more until Yorouichi finally dropped hers, and sighed in a most regretfully manner. Urahara was a little more than aware to know she was the most tolerant one out of the thirteen, and so he briefly wondered whether her reaction was for the same reason as him, from exhaustion, or from some other reason he didn't know about and would rather keep it that way.

"Alright. I believe you," she stressed and eyeing his growing grin she added, "Frankly because we already knew that. But that's not why I came here."

"Frankly."

She eyed him crossly and there was a slight flare in the air around them, intangible but powerful. "We need him now."

"He's notready. For God's sake, he's just a kid. You've seen what he's caused. All because he can't help himself. He's just a boy- "

"The more reason to take him now."

"- who can't even wrap his head around the most basic of rules." He was losing his temper now. He was tired and clearly aware of what he was saying and the implications following his words. But all were true. They needed more time or else the boy would break. It would be too much for him to take and before the kid even got to say 'wait', they would all be finished.

Feeling his thoughts crumpling him, he sighed, exhaustion evident for a split second, but it was enough for Yorouichi to garner. A second later he repeated with a note of finality, "He didn't even show up to the assembly."

Yorouichi regarded him coldly then. Excuses weren't what she had come for after all, even if they were in fact true, she couldn't return to Council empty handed. "I know," she gritted. Then, sighed. "I know, I know."

Urahara smirked. It sounded like she was berating herself. It was too amusing for him. But beneath that, he knew, she was doing it because she knew it just as well as he did: what he had said was as right as day.

"This better be the last time I do anything remotely compassionate for you, Kisuke. Or I swear to the Mighty Gates your position in this war will be severed.

"You have this job for a reason. Give him what he needs, give us what we need. And what we need is him. Don't think that buying yourself time will get him ready," she bit out.

"I know. Oh and thank you."

A ghost of a smirk laced her graceful lips just then. "Always what's convenient for you now, Kisuke? And for the record, I wouldn't have hesitated fraying you to bits if only you weren't right."

He remained in grateful silence as he stood there with his head in the clouds. How he wished for a break.

Once she had delved through with her options she flatly stated, "Three months. No more or he's ours. And I mean it."

Before he could reply his thanks, the Council official merged back into the shadows with a swift spring, not sparing Urahara a last glance as she disappeared completely, taking the invisible flare of energy with her as she did.

Urahara tried to not feel so grateful at the thought of getting himself and Ichigo more time. Yes, Yorouichi had endowed him minimal time for him to ready Ichigo in the hastiest of ways possible, but in the end- and he knew this- they would run out of time. Yorouichi would end up taking Ichigo either way, successful or not. He was keenly aware, and yet, he couldn't help but still feel relief wash over him. It had been the best feeling he's had in days. With shocking realization a thought bloomed on his head.

Had he grown fond of the boy so fast?

Urahara stood there immobile for a while longer, pondering, before glancing at his expensive watch.

Crap. Ten minutes...He sped up his pace into a full out sprint that most civilians would have mistaken for a mere breeze.

"The hell've you been?"

Ichigo scooted the spare chair and sat with a not so graceful thump that elicited a groan from the thing. He glanced at the blonde reading opposite of the oblong table.

"Busy," was all he said as he slouched into the chair. Unconsciously, he listened to the tonal variations around the noisy cafeteria.

"Bullshit," the blonde muttered dismissively, though he didn't push the matter.

"Have you seen Senna?" he muttered through the boisterous orchestra, while examining an interesting blotch on the white ceiling with quite the intensity. The chatter was giving him a headache.

He had made it in time for third block, at least. Well, compared to the many times he had skipped school it was the least to say that he made it for half the day, anyway. Not that it mattered now that he was probably flunking all his classes.

When the blonde didn't answer, Ichigo spared him a lazy glance."Shinji?"

"Stop being a sully dick for once and look at people in the eye. Manners," he heard his friend say without much of a stir to his demeanor. Ichigo was too tired to care on what his friend had to say about his manners. Actually, he could care less on whoever was telling him. He dropped his eyes from the ceiling and down to his friend. He examined his hunched posture and his blob haircut before meeting his slit gaze.

"And you should get a decent haircut for once." He just wasn't in the mood. At all.

He had ran all day and night yesterday and had just arrived no more than a few hours ago only to be confronted by none other than the least person he wanted to see at that moment, Urahara. It was least to say that he was beat. That he made it to school was just an extra.

Urahara hadn't spared him the damn lecture either. "I told you not to miss the meeting. Now you've got the Council after you again." But then, what else was new?

Ichigo took his bearings in as a way to avoid meeting Shinji's gaze who had purposely torn his own eyes from his magazine to look at him. And that must've taken effort. So he knew all too well that Shinji would know what else was wrong if he let him have it. Besides the fact that everything was already wrong, per se, he just didn't want it to make it look so obvious.

The cafeteria was an ample room, probably the second biggest room in Karakura Academy aside from the gymnasium. On it laid multiple tables with frequently changing number of chairs and a large number of students stuffing themselves with that devil sent garbage they called food. This thought was considered an indoor pun to... his family. But none of that. It wasn't exactly funny. Not to him. It was like a slap in the face actually.

"Speak for yourself. Just tell me why you forgot again after you made it clear it had gone through that... thick thing you call a head. So why?" It took Ichigo a full count of thirty seconds to muster a not so overused excuse yet in the very least legit. And since Shinji wasn't like Urahara- who seemed to always disregard his foul sarcasm for reasons he himself didn't know- but was pretty merciless when it came to invalidate excuses coming from a certain dingy best friend he was. So he needed a good one.

"It's the noise. I can't stand it." Lame.

"What?" That must've taken him by surprised because he let his magazine drop down to the table. He already knew he wasn't making sense. He was hoping for a new tactic by throwing Shinji off guard instead.

"Okay, I forgot. Plus, I just couldn't show up without a good excuse. You know why."

"You mean like this ri-dick-ulous one?"

"Shh. Don't want Kisuke at your doorstep now do you?" He joked. Ichigo leaned back on his chair, lacing his fingers together and closing his eyes in vain of shutting away the noise. It was driving him mad.

"That's sick. Fine. Whatever. If you can't trust me, then you can't trust anyone," Shinji had already turned away from his friend and resumed his monotonous reading of his magazine, intent on shutting him out.

That did him in. He couldn't believe his ears. After all this time he thought Shinji would be the one to understand what he was undergoing best. He had expected at least that, but he guessed he deserved that for the stunt he pulled off. Causing a dispute among Council due to a petty mishap of nearly revealing their darkest secret sure had been a close call. And then to go low profile for the whole of two weeks sent them reeling on their immortal asses. Had he broken the vow of secrecy without consent, all Cold Ones would have gone mad on him. Good for him he didn't. Though, that would've served them some good. But brushing your friends to the side? Inexcusable.

Before he could defend himself, he sensed the presence of a familiar figure slide in behind him. Her intentions were meant to be kept subtle, but to his heightened senses it was beyond blatant. He allowed himself to smirk as two familiar arms wrapped loosely, though firmly, around his shoulders and gave him a slight squeeze.

"Hey, you." He felt and smelled the cool, sweet fragrance of her breath, curling around him like a noose. Instinctively, Ichigo leaned to the touch and inhaled, closing his eyes as he did.

He pictured a field full of the sweetest and most delicate flowers. Every one of them threaded with all sorts of colorful varieties. All the different colors, shapes...and a bright blue sky being like the soft yet chirpy voice of hers. An upbeat tempo played inside his head. He would have to get that down soon.

"Hi."

Senna came into full view and sat on the chair beside him. Shinji made a face at the scene, but otherwise ignored them.

Senna's light hazel eyes watched Ichigo's every move. However, they never seemed to leave his face for more than a few seconds, and he was aware of it so he tried smiling.

"I'm glad you're back," Senna started as she tilted her chair so their knees touched, "We missed you."

He couldn't help but sigh at that. The way she said it made him realize just how completely selfish he'd been. Again. Well, it wasn't his fault that what he most craved right now was freedom. Right? It's been a perpetual fault actually. But still. It's not like he went and put off the thought of her waiting for him for the past week, restless and worrying, as he carried on with his little hikes to the wilderness. He groaned internally. Ok, so maybe he was a little guilty.

He watched the curve of her mouth and felt his smile waver. He was not ready to meet her eyes.

He briefly inspected her instead. She was clad in the school uniform; white collar blouse and a little above knee-length gray skirt. Her dark hair was held in a stylish but messy pony tail with the ribbon he'd given her sometime ago, the same loose bangs on her face, and the best feature of hers- he thought pleasantly- all lemon and honey eyes that held a subtle hurt gleam only Ichigo knew too well.

And then came the all too familiar pang in his chest. True that she was just a mere Familiar- though he shunted the term- but he still felt...something for her. After all, everything that had withered her for these past months had been his fault. If only he wasn't who he was. Maybe then it would be much simpler for them. For her. For him.

Regret could never be a more apparent emotion. He regretted getting close to anyone who ever showed him a sign of compassion. Because he would always let them down no matter what he did or promised.

Like his own family.

Indisputably, he was cursed to failure. And now, he didn't know if there was a way to fix the messes that were his life, because he already knew there was no remedy in fixing himself. But despite all that, a wave of nostalgia enveloped him with memories of their easy relationship, and that just left him wistful to fault.

Ichigo smiled at her sadly, not able to meet the hurt in her eyes she disguised with a big grin. "I'm sorry..." He whispered, meeting her gaze only to pry it away just as fast.

He felt like a coward. But then she did the most Senna like thing ever. She brought his head close to hers and met his waiting lips.

That made him feel slightly relieved, but he couldn't rid the pained look from his face or bear looking at her.

"Look at me," she said. He did, eventually.

"This," she gestured her hand between them. They were very close together with his hand resting on her waist and his other on his lap, not quite sure what else to do with it, "is as real as it gets. Don't forget that, Ichigo. Please," her eyes closed. Their foreheads met lightly and he could breathe the coolness radiating from her.

"Ok." He should've held her closer, but he couldn't shake those feelings away yet. Guilt and regret clung to him like second skin. Both unwilling to give him up to peace. But this time he did meet her eyes and they were beautiful; wet and honey-colored.

"We had a plan," Shinji suddenly claimed from the side, currently forgotten.

"What plan?" he asked, settling back to his seat, an arm loosely draped around Senna. He looked from a guilty face Senna to a coy Shinji who both shared a look. It was interesting to watch.

"No plan, there was no plan whatsoever," Senna was saying as Shinji shot her disbelieving looks.

"Oh, what!" Shinji slammed his palms on the table, shaking it slightly and drawing curious eyes to their table in turn. Surprising didn't even cover it. Then things got a lot more interesting as his best friends begun their usual quarrel of God knows what. Ichigo kept staring at them with an amused expression on his face, feeling sorry for himself and distinctively wistful at realizing how much he had missed this.

Shinji had a scowl on as he and Senna kept their, what could be a very long, bicker. At last they seemed to have agreed on something Ichigo was blissfully clueless about.

"Yes we had a plan, but now it's ruined," Shinji spitted to Ichigo who recoiled. "Don't spit on me..."

"And it would've at least gone somewhere if you had stuck with it. But never mind you. I knew you couldn't last a second without sucking his face." That was Ichigo's and Senna's cue to blush. When Ichigo thought it had gone far enough (which it did), he skidded the quarrel to a stop.

"Okay, I rather not hear those comments coming from you. It's not like we ever do this publicly. So can you please just tell me what plan so we can just move along?"

That seemed to have placated them. It was Senna who spoke, "We were going for...sort of like...an intervention-"

"For what?"

"Just listen," said Shinji. There was an annoyed look on his face that reminded him how tired he was.

"I am."

"It's just that you've been so busy, caught up with who knows what all the time and, like I said, we've missed you-"

"Resented you," Shinji cut in, earning him a glare from Senna. She quickly ignored him and turned back to him but with a softer expression.

"And we think you should trust us more. I mean, we're your best friends. We deserve to know what's gotten into you. Look, I know all about this... 'prophecy' thing and I can tell it's taking a toll on you, but it has taken a toll on all of us, too, and we just really want to help, but you have-"

"Can I cut in?" Shinji interrupted gently, his scowl taking a soft turn at the sight of Senna on the verge of tears. Ichigo had placed a hand over one of her own on the table, feeling guiltier than ever.

She nodded and wiped tears that managed to escape. He brought a hand and helped her. It was when she mentioned 'prophecy' that did her in. He knew.

"Well, there's not much to say now is there? Only that we got each others' back. For whatever's coming," Ichigo was staring back at the blotch on the ceiling when he heard Shinji sigh. He knew how much gut it must've taken Shinji to admit that. The thought brought a smirk to his face before he could stop it.

"Asshole," he heard him say and his smirk grew into a grin. Just then, all his worries turned into mush and he felt somewhat lighter. No, heavier but to the point where pressure didn't intervene anymore- he wasn't sure if that was really a bad thing or not. He realized how much he really needed to hear he still had his friends after what he had done.

Without glancing at either of them he managed to say, "Thanks." But then it occurred to him he owed them an explanation in the very least. In the mean time he tried to conjure- no, articulate- his jumbled thoughts into actual words, he welcomed the noise around them instead of silence. Yet, among such a public place, it was as if they had their own little personal bubble. So really it felt like an amiable silence before he broke it.

"And sorry. I guess. I owe you guys an explanation at least. I know that. But right now..." He glanced at his friends who both offered him equally frank and equally different expressions. Senna's soft one was the one to hit straight home, in spite of Shinji's scowl which was just as effective somehow.

"Yeah. We get it," Shinji said as he stood from his chair and gathered his magazine once the bell rang. He managed a brisk but reassuring smile to Ichigo, who gratefully returned it.

"We understand. Just, please, Ichigo. Don't you brush us to the side ok?" His heart was quickly turning back to lead now, so he made it quick to reassure her by leaning into her and kissing her waiting lips once.

"Yeah."

Shinji, who had been a sore witness to this many times before, only rolled his eyes when they turned to him.

Ichigo slung his school bag over his shoulder and an arm over Senna's leaning warmth. She nuzzled into his side, and he felt comforted by the gesture. Like that, they trailed after their other friend to third block.

Although he was immensely grateful to still have his friends at his side, supporting him, encouraging, offering their trust to him, he knew it would never be over. It had just begun. What exactly he wasn't sure. But something awful had. And in that midst, he didn't want to disappoint them when it was too late, because somehow he knew it would be. Whatever he felt was happening to him would guarantee that. But right now he didn't want to care. He needed this brief comfort and he clung to it with all his might as he went to class with who could be the only people who genuinely cared for him. In their own twisted way anyway, he thought briefly at the sight of an aloof Shinji.

Dusk always tainted itself with a waft of bittersweet night air, full of the aftertaste of a long, groggy day and aspiring some of the reluctant stars to shine. The moon denied the flaws of the ground with a light so pure and white, its soft, yet mighty sight was enough to put distraught aside. Though, tonight, the moon could not outshine the peril in the darkest parts of the massive woods.

A siege of mellow trees surrounded two guilty-charged hunters of the night in a semi circle, a great boulder stood adamant behind them as a wall. Behind the siege, growled at most five wolves. Ravenous with revenge they glowered deeply to the cornered wolves, who were shoulder to shoulder with each other, surrounded from every direction, cut off from access to any out.

Down the center, the snarl of a maroon wolf reverberated along the others' heightened hearing with the aid of the whipping wind: a cryptic, yet clear message of reprimand.

The lighter colored wolf beside him held a much more appeased exterior: although with her ears pulled far back to her skull in tension, she held a dignified pose with her black snout pointing high up into the night, paws set firmly on the stiff soil, back slightly erect but sloped enough to pounce, refusing to be intimidated. There was something in the way she held herself that spoke of stubbornness, and with her bright white fur contrasting in the black of the night, she gave out a sense of admirable elegance. But even then, something inside this creature shivered with the worst sense of fear.

Unlike his companion, the maroon wolf stood low on his paws, recoiled and ready to retaliate in case one of the other wolves were to pounce at either of them. Tense on his jaw, advertising his razor sharp set of canines. Snarling with such raw viciousness, it was enough to cut through any sort of peace entreaty if to be made, although it had already been proven to be a futile attempt.

Despite the collected composure of the white wolf, she could not help but feel panic seep through the taut ends of her coat. Every growl was like a strike to her alert ears and harsh graze to her stiff fur. She felt shivers run up and down her newly twisted spine in her newly changed body.

She was very well aware of the fear induced tension of her companion beside her. Any provoking move from any of the five wolves would be enough to set him off. If that were to happen, all hell would break loose.

She had enough will and self-control to not attack. At least, not yet. No matter how laden she was, she had to restrain her yearn to release it by mauling through each of the wolves' jugulars.

She knew that among every feral wolf present, she was the only one to have sanctioned her sagacity from her previous body. It had been a unique ability she could only muster among the rest. Every single wolf had lost their prior conscious once completely giving in to the change, becoming into the savage animals they were right now.

If only she could find a way to reason with them.

Impossible was the chance of any escape attempt as the surrounding five wolves tensed further as her companion's growls grew gruffer with impatience, greedy for battle. She couldn't blame him. It was in their nature after all.

The wolves snarled and growled back with equal intent as they brought their legs into their paws, and arched their already sloped backs further while flashing their yellowing canines with barbaric glints. They showed no mercy in their similar glowing yellow eyes. They were ready to fulfill their duty.

To murder the accounted. It was their job to rid of the unworthy in the pack.

They were following the pack's law, that's why they were summoned after her. Half of them were, though. Splitting the blameworthy blood was part of their jobs. The other, more important part, would be ignored as they still needed the alpha's consent. Ignoring the alpha's command, or lack thereof, would get them into deep trouble. No one took charge without the alpha's authority. Though, in their animalistic state, they did not allow this vital heed to be considered. Instead they would be driven by raw instinct, and their instinct was to shred, smell the blood leaking out of jagged wounds created by the lethal intent of their teeth. They've been trapped in their natural forms for too long to have lost any little grain of their past humanity. It was understandable to picture the sight of murder in their eyes.

That's all they thought about then. That's all they would think about now.

Blood. And the smell of fear.

Only that.

Screw the law...

The wolves started to move in, cornering the two backing wolves even further into the boulder like caged rats. Nowhere to run, or hide.

More importantly, to run, thought the only white wolf among the rest.

She had to think. Fast. If she wanted to get herself and her partner in crime out of this one, at least alive, she had to find a way.

She let out a frustrated howl as a last attempt of warning. Her companion howled in tow. Both howls met up in the wind like a seething tune.

She then dared a glance to her companion and saw a determined glint in his glowing eyes. That's all she needed to see to do what she did best in her – in this- nature.

With a graceful leap, she seared through the air past the wolf lunging straight at her, just barely missing the razors of his jaw by a hair. She allowed the wind to do the gliding for her as she landed on the ground only to dart behind the turning wolf's head and latch onto his neck- a move all too natural for her. He yelped in a pitch at the feel of her sharp teeth as they mauled into his skin and snapped at his trachea with one last thrust of her jaw. Quick and to the point. Unabashed, she relished the sweet metallic taste of blood weaving through her teeth and pouring straight down her throat. She couldn't feel more alive. So wild.

As it all happened in no more than a few seconds, she pulled back, jaw secure and nuzzled on the wolf's neck and ripped away a chunk. The wolf let out a single yelp of agony that seemed to have pierced right through the night.

Leaving the lifeless body fall to the bloody ground, she faced toward the scene where her companion was engaged in a turbulent scuffle between three others.

He'll be fine. He was a big one after all.

Seemingly distracted for a split second, another wolf, larger and gruffer, lunged at her from the right. However, she noticed this just in time to dodge his snapping jaw.

Now fully committed to her battle instincts, she calculated the wolf's movements with cold, keen eyes as they circled each other in unremitting loath. In step of one another, they sized each other up with their different colored gazes but with equal contempt.

In the height of her senses, she witnessed the scene around her. She heard the contractions of the snapping jaws as they clashed with teeth, the muffled thuds of bodies clashing, smelled the piercing richness of spilt blood on soil, felt the sudden rapid stop of reality as everything ceased speed, the unfathomable, yet familiar light her sight allowed her to keep intact of her bearings...everything felt in check.

She watched the dragging saliva of the wolf she circulated languidly touch the ground from his bared snout just as his paws advanced on her.

She let out a perpetuate growl as she glared her canines. She was ready for the lunge now and to retaliate.

The ends of her pelt went even tauter with an incendiary snarl from her opponent.

The circling game sped up as a second wolf attempted to join them. She snorted in what could only be incredulity at the sight. He had been watching the whole thing! At least she and her companion were left with even numbers to take on.

Her muscles squeezed with the tension and incoming adrenaline full of instinct.

The first wolf, tainted by the color of midnight, halted the next turn and launched himself onto his target. She became distracted by the second wolf's goading acts, missed her dodge and braced herself for the impact. Wet, sharp teeth clutched at a soft spot on her back. She let out a pained whimper but nothing more. She would not show these mongrels any sort of yielding.

Finding the opportunity to join, the second wolf darted toward the struggling duo. She saw this and forcefully flipped her body forward so the leech on top ended on the opposite side and her own back to the ground. Surprised, the lunging wolf stumbled over his fallen companion but only momentarily. It was enough for her to regain balance and sprightly strike. Jaws and claws glaring for him.

The wolf couldn't have seen this coming with her speed. She had been too quick. Blood squirted out of the jagged wound on his lapel as he tried to get a hold of her but to no avail. Her jaw was firm and deeply dug into his tissue there, already gnawing her way to his pipe to end him. He choked once and barked with pain.

Too late.

She had dropped the dead weight once feeling the bone crack only to immediately dart sideways away from the first wolf. Her adrenaline was at its peak now. He had a mild limp on his back leg and an ugly oozing wound on his neck, though she knew it was enough for him to still be able to dig his canines into her if she gave him the chance. That of course she wouldn't. She went low on her front paws, analyzing any other visible weak point she could use to her advantage.

She heard the agonizing howl of a wolf to her side and briefly noticed her companion being hustled into the ground by the heavy structure of the gray wolf latched onto his neck.

There were only two more left so she had to finish this one fast. Her companion could still hold up for a few minutes longer. But not for long.

Without a second glance she took her chance and charged toward the limping wolf who met her jump half way. After they jabbed each other's teeth into the other, it was a matter of inferiority. See who yielded first and who took victory. A matter of raw strength.

But to her, it was a matter of tactic.

Her paws had thrust into his chest, latching her claws all the while bringing him down with a kick- a ploy available to her due to her size - and dug her teeth into his lapel, near his jaw to prevent lashing.

They struggled like this for long seconds. She, above him battling to keep her claws and jaw on him, keenly on his trachea while trying to keep him pinned down with whatever strength she had. He, beneath her to get a strike at her, expectantly to her throat, kept attempting to flip her over. The two wolves fought for their lives. She bit harder and suppressed the pain in her abdominal area as the wolf latched his lower paws there and kicked ruthlessly.

She was used to the hard life her nature bargained, used to the pain and battles she had no choice but to face full on or die. A seemingly last resort to fit in and live. Headstrong at every encounter. And tonight was no exception. Even if tonight's dealing was brought upon her rightly so.

Sensing the fleeting gasps and last remaining struggles of the very large wolf beneath her, she kept adamant, unmovable to the best. Savoring the pain writhing below her instead of submitting to it until the wolf choked on his last breath and his struggling ceased.

Without a final glance into the lifeless gaze of the wolf, she darted towards the gray wolf upon her companion head-on, the climax of her adrenaline imploding in her veins in a last attempt.

She didn't really know how, but the second she glanced back at her companion, the gray wolf lay motionless on the frizzy ground, a puddle of blood leaking out his jagged throat, the warm taste of it on her snout.

The maroon wolf panted just as heavily, as she sniffed his wounds and licked them once or twice. He flicked his weary gaze upon his hovering companion. The strangeness of her eyes gave him the strength he needed to make effort.

He gave out a quiet snort and stood from his haunch, tenderly.

She followed the limping form of her companion, in search of shelter before the telling rays of dawn beat them. Leaving the bloodshed behind them, never once glancing back, knowing there'd be nothing left for her if she did, she realized her newly obtained title as an outcast.

Officially an outcast.

They hurried off into a crevice tucked between the sprouting roots of an old oak. A tattered rag hovered over it, covering a clutter of individual backpacks.

The two wolves sniffed through the familiar scents. The maroon wolf hooked his teeth on the strap of a specific backpack with a pine-roll scent, combined with a dirty musk. His scent.

She sniffed for her own backpack. A mossy, misty woodland scent curled around her snout, recognition quickly registering in her. She hooked her teeth onto the backpack's strap before vanishing into the woods, her companion in tow. Departing from the small shed the pack had taken time to construct- a rag nailed on the protruding roots, really- for when the change came, they hurried off.

They didn't stop for any cause or communicated once. They knew it was a matter of time before they were pursued yet again. Exile was a small price to pay for what they had done just a few moments ago and way before that... they were expecting a much more excruciating punishment, though they sure weren't going to lag behind and prove any of their guesswork right. Instead, they decided to make a run for it while they still could. The farther they went, the more time they'd harbor before they were to be caught. Because, really, when it came to the pack's jurisdictions, there was running but no hiding. As long as they had much resourcefulness on their journey they would last the longest possible.

And because of her relationship with the pack leader, her brother, the pack would stall, even if just for a few days, to give them the chance to harbor enough time, and distance, before the chase commenced. That was a fair sign of mercy coming from her brother.

So of course she'd take the opportunity to run now.

Brother will stall for me, she thought reassuringly. In reality, she was hoping it was true. Her brother had limited tolerations, since he was loyal to his duties, and this one, she was sure, had crossed the line. I'll be damned if he doesn't.

By the time it was crack of dawn, they had already found shelter by a run-down cabin somewhere deep in the woods. As shabby and desolated as the cabin appeared, they moved eagerly to it for its recluse. The loose, once homey, structure stood frail on its walls and chipped on its window panes. The single door entrance was termite eaten and weathered on its frame. Though, by some miracle, the ill wooden door still stood firm and secure on its hinges, a few gaps visible on its skew pane.

They approached its premises and scampered to a back shed. Knowing morning had just risen, they scurried behind the nearest trees, each behind a different one and far away from the other as they felt the familiar twisting of their spines prickle. The change was coming.

Almost simultaneously, the two wolves began to shed their pelts. White bones became visible for a brief moment so new skin magically remolded on them to cover them up. The shredding sound of skin was nearly enough to make their stomachs churn, if it wasn't for the disgusting leftovers of their previous skin lying openly on the grass stained with their blood. Feeling the crack of their remolding bones was an indescribable sensation of painful ecstasy. They both had to groan in half pleasure and pain from the release as their front legs shifted to fleshy forearms and back legs into firm thighs and lengthy calves. They couldn't be left in a more vulnerable state. It was said that if anything were to interfere the process it would render imminent death.

Their spinal cords gave a final excoriating split before readjusting into the erect position going with their new bodies.

Even more exhausted by the change, the two shaken "wolves" hastily dug for their stashed clothes in their bags- able now with their newly acquired opposable thumbs- expertly ignoring the expectant nausea piping up their esophagus that came with the change.

Once decently covered with the extra skin of hoods and jeans, they gathered up their own frayed pelts off the ground and into trash bags that had been tucked in one of their bags' subdivisions.

Concurrently, they stepped out of the trees, clad in blue and black, and glanced at each other. A half-startled look passed between them as they took in their new forms but was quickly replaced with recognition. That happened whenever a wolf metamorphosed into a human. They'd lose temporary recognition. But it would be as if they'd never seen each other regardless of their previous time spent as humans. The only reminder they'd get was scent, that's what would render back their memories.

The once maroon wolf took the shape of a tall, sturdy man. His broad-shouldered physique was prominent beneath his fitting blue hoodie. A mane of vibrant red hair shifted under his calloused hands as he tied a rubber band around it into a ponytail. Tribal looking tattoos traced his equally red eyebrows, traveling up his forehead and originating from his torso, kneading up his chest and all the way around his neck like a noose.

It was a custom in their pack.

Like all males from his kin, his strong-build spoke of raw power and agility. Ready to engage in any sort of combat if a situation called for it.

His once white wolf companion, on the other hand, stood at least a full head shorter, if not shorter, than him with a lither physique. Although, petite as her frame was, she depicted lethal agility, but a lesser lethal intent.

Unlike her female kin, her stature was too short and curves too tame. Even tamer now with the sizes-too-big black hoodie neglecting any sort of pale skin beneath. But, hey, she was still growing.

Now human, she approached her companion in awkward strides. She still had to get used to the two legged norm.

Once nearing him, she steadied herself on her two feet. "Renji, I-"

"It's fine."

She couldn't help but flinch a little at the sound of his voice. Too loud, she thought as she tried accustoming to her inhumanly heightened senses.

Her hands had clenched into fists and it surprised her at first, having fingers and all after the longest time. But just as quickly she dismissed the thought and eyed her companion, friend, and now partner in crime with a new light. She felt guilty to say the least. Yeah, that didn't even cover it. She wanted to say she had been a reckless brute, but really that didn't even cover half of it. Thoughts died before turning into words she didn't know she would regret if ever spoken. Preferably, she kept it that way and crumpled inside herself. Her stomach churned once again as she did.

Swallowing, she said, "Okay. What now?" Her voice was still raspy.

Renji heaved the trash bags over his shoulder and trudged over to the trash bin ahead. She nodded once and for the first time took her bearings in.

The light of morning exposed the flaking deciduous of orchards surrounding them and the cabin. They had made it deep into the woods, which was a good thing considering the timer before the chase had been set off. The faint pulsing of water could be heard from a distance and she figured it must be a stream somewhere to her east side. The ground on which she stood was frosty and caked from the winter cold with weathered leaves, dead roots and loose sticks scattered on it.

Tentatively, she crouched to her feet and did a quick scanning of the area. She couldn't afford leaving any lead for the pack. She needed time to be on her side for the most possible. Sniffing the slightest of their scent was enough to attract them from miles behind. So she had to be thorough now. She didn't need any more slips on her part or poor Renji would go through with them yet again. And she didn't want that.

There was only the faint trace of their shifting, but that was enough. She knew it, of course there was no doubt about it, yet she had hoped for some reason, and now their time at the cabin would be cut short. They could stay here only for a few days before the pack had a new lead. Hopefully, if luck decided to side with them by a miracle, their previous skirmish would delay the hounds. Oh how she needed a rain right now. That would scatter the scent. But she was already asking for too much taking to the state of the dry woods. As long as she and Renji had enough time to...to find some place safe then...maybe...oh darn.

They were so screwed. No. She couldn't let Renji down again. She had to think of something.

"Rukia?" Renji called from somewhere she couldn't see him behind the cabin.

She followed the sound of his voice until she found him hovering over the back door, which he had managed to pry open with very little effort considering the tattered state the wood had already been.

"Did you find anything?"

"If by that you mean humans, then no. But look." But they had already known that before they arrived. He showed her a wide container with a curve on its neck and with no label.

"What is it?" Her hand had already snatched it for further probing.

"I think it's a deodorizing spray. I heard it annihilates odors," he waged a finger to the space between them, sounding somehow proud about it.

She stifled a chuckle, "Well that's an awfully big word for you."

He glowered at her, but only half-heartedly. She kept twirling the thing in her hands, half-heartedly trying to find something that would give the nature of its contents away. Maybe he was right. If this was in fact what he said it was, they could use this to neutralize their scent. Hey, this called for desperate measures, and she would gladly take them if she needed to (like a drowning mad man, she would). She didn't notice him still staring at her until she tore her attention from the God-knows-what and attempted to step into the cabin.

He didn't say anything at first and she was reminded of her guilt so she had to look away. Then he stopped her, "Rukia, wait."

She did.

"I- listen. I know we've gone through the worst so far, but I want you to know that I'm still with you, ok?"

Oh, Renji.

Before she could stop herself, moisture had gathered in her eyes and she had to bring resistance right away as she wiped them away with her hands. She cleared her throat lightly and raised her eyes to meet his.

"Thank you, Renji. Really." That was all she needed to say taking from the look on his face.

Together they went inside.

It was surprisingly habitable looking. It was well kept-up, clean, with hospitable furniture and a well-tended stove. Shockingly weird didn't cover it. At some point they separated for further exploration until both stumbled into the most disturbing thing so far. See, passing through the back door led to the kitchen, which as shockingly contrasting as it was to the outside state of the cabin it was still nothing compared to what they had just found, and further ahead to the stifling small living room was a hallway, tucked in between two of the walls.

As they went into it, they had both stopped on their tails- er, feet. A titanium door stood just ahead of them. It was impressive. It was just plain weird to see in the middle of the woods inside a desolated cabin with a God-knows-what-possibly-odor-neutralizer container.

"Renji, don't," Rukia stopped her friend before he tried to mess with the coded pad sticking from the side of the door.

Reluctantly, they left it alone. Since the shift had amounted their legarthy, they headed for the couches back on the living room, a little more than eager to leave their new finding alone after it had nearly made them jump out of their skin (not a great feeling), and crashed into the cushions. They stayed quiet for a while, momentarily giving in to their exhaustion.

"Well, we can crash here," Renji offered eventually.

"Are you kidding?" Rukia had been quietly wallowing in all her conflicting emotions amounted ever since...the incident, and had been replaying the fresh skirmish in her head, all the while thinking of consequences tied to her past crime and the fact that she had, above anything else, disappointed, shunted, her family name for a mere stunt of idiocy. Now after stumbling into the most disturbing of places, hearing Renji make such an offer was beyond her limit. And yet here he was trying to get them out of trouble. Damn her.

She internally groaned.

"Erm, guess that door did it. But look, it's not like we have much now. With the pack gone and all," she heard him say as she hunched over herself, placing her head between her hands, "I think this is the best we can do. For now."

She sighed, a heavy, mournful sigh. "'spose so."

She welcomed the following silence, and even considered basking in the impending sleep until Renji spoke again. "Rukia."

"Hm?"

"What if..." She waited. When he didn't speak again she pried her head from her hands and glanced at him.

"What if what?"

But he had dozed off already. It was the shift. Once undergoing its process, it became nearly impossible to retain any sort of energy since the metamorphosing into the new body brought new implications. One was the instability. The previous body only altered forms. It was still the same body, same soul.

And the same exhaustion.

Especially now after the fight of their lives.

She didn't bother to wake him after that. She kept watching him sleep on the couch across from her before she herself let sleep take her. She couldn't bring herself to be wary of their new findings in such a state. Just a bit of rest and she'll be up and ready soon...already thought of something to get them out of this mess.

He was running. He felt blindfolded with the darkness around him, the wind smiting at his face and ears. Of course he loved running. Only that this time he didn't feel the usual rush of exhilaration pulsing through his veins, but rather a crawling sensation starting from his gut, clawing its way up and around himself like a thousand hissing snakes. It sent his senses into a frenzy, his breathing to overdrive and his heart into cardiac arrest. Fear.

And as he ran, he noticed the futility of it since he didn't see a thing, or knew where he was running to. But he still ran. He couldn't stop. Fear wouldn't let him.

Fear of what? He thought.

Then, as if for the first time, he realized he was running through woods. The sound of his footfalls as they struck the moistened soil hit his ears like thunder. His ears clamped into themselves with the harshness of his breaths and the wild pummeling of his heart. Sweat clogged his pores, letting shivers run through him like lightning with the cold night around him. He kept glancing everywhere, trying to figure out where he was going and why he couldn't bring himself to stop and act normal when typically he was always in control of himself while he ran. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

What scared him most besides being unable to see farther than what his vision typically allowed him, was the feeling of running out of time.

He stumbled into protruding roots and loose branches, his face burned with the cuts and the sweat. He brought his arms in front of him in attempt to lessen the beatings. He was going through thick underbrush now. Thorns had appeared and had clung onto his clothes, turning them tattered as he kept running.

As he stumbled and fell, he made it quick to pick himself up and pick up his pace into forced sprints. He hated this.

Then he saw it.

The moon seemed to consume part of the sky with its round mass. It was huge. At the sight of it his feet stopped and he stumbled over to his knees. His breathing came out in harsh wisps. He gazed up at it as he heard her voice.

'Come to me'

A breath of the coolest breeze swept past his ears, caressing him with the gentlest of strokes. He turned to the touch, closing his eyes as a surge of pleasure shivered through his blood, shimmered past places inside himself he didn't even know he had, tugging at his heart and clutching at it. Feeling himself more exposed and vulnerable than ever before. And then he knew it. The misery he would be without its touch.

He hadn't realized the moisture on his eyes as he opened them, neither knowing when he had closed them. He could feel it now and he groaned with its loss. He felt it leaving him, beckoning him to follow.

"Please."

The agonized note of his voice surprised him a bit, but he couldn't help it.

Her voice had been carried away by a wrenching current that he let lightly push him to his hands. He was suddenly weak. She didn't speak again but he could feel her voice still beckoning him through the fleeting wind. A writhing on his gut began its way to his bones and flesh, painfully, ruthlessly biting his very soul out. He had never known such a pain as this.

He was left breathless then. His breathing had reduced to hasty sobs until the scene shifted. Now he was leaning on the edge of a cliff. The moon was still there. He thought he would jump over and end his agony. But again something stopped him.

Over the cliff he saw red. Tongues of fire flickered in the darkest of nights up to the sky. It took him moments before his sight could adjust to the contrast and what he saw shook his insides, numbing the writhing temporarily. There was burning down there, he thought it to be more woods but he wasn't sure. Flames would huff in contempt every now and then and he could feel the hot stench radiating from below to him. The smell of sulfur enveloped him then. It was so prominent he had fallen two steps backward, and all that agony he had just felt withered to once again fear. He smelled rage.

There should have been screaming somewhere but oddly there wasn't a sound except for the huffing flames.

He mustered two steps forward again, closer to the scene, able to capture the wide crack beneath the glaring fire and sulfur. He couldn't see further than the crooked outline as it kept splitting in half, releasing more huffs of flames and a wave of sulfur. He heard himself coughing and felt a growing urge to run back. But then he saw.

With one last hollow crack, the ground gave in and out came a rushing blast of smoldering lava. He had to bolt into the woods behind him for cover as few blobs of incandescent red landed on his cliff. Once near the edge again, and safely away from the hissing blobs of lava, he waited until the ominous cloud of black-red smoke dissipated and allowed him a clearer view down below. But the smoke didn't completely go, and so he couldn't see much past it. Somewhere inside he knew what was coming, what he was expecting to see.

When he thought nothing else would give, a very low, bass screech erupted from the split ground. It was something caught between a whisper of a breath and the voice of death. He noticed the growing weeds around his feet wither to fleeting shadows that were driven down below the cliff like magnets. He averted his gaze to see silhouettes emerging from the mouth on the ground, ever so slowly swaying to the outside.

Trepidation wasn't even the right word to describe what he felt as he watched a looming shadow follow behind them and spread throughout the fire, blanketing it to muffled glows, and glided up the cliff.

He had to see what was down there.

But before he got a glimpse, he literally smelled death. He was back in the woods without a second glance.

He sensed it coming before he even thought of it as he ran, even harder than at first, for his life. The moon had somehow disappeared and without it, the night had become black. It was worse now as he sped through looming trunks and jutting branches. Fear pumped into his every cell as he dashed, not able to cast a look behind him to question his instincts. Somehow he knew what would happen if he did.

But then he tripped. Everything wilted and crumpled into part of the black cloak.

And before he got the chance to scream, it took him.

Ichigo jolted awake. Sweat melted down his face, clung to his shirt. Heck, to his whole body. His heart beat wildly and throbbed behind his eyes. It made everything look as if it were pumping. He tried sighing himself calm but instead he made a choked noise and he slung his legs to the side of his bed. He coughed a bit. Running a hand through his hair and down his sweaty face, he finally calmed down. Though, his pulse beat refused to obey. In silence he sat, hunched over himself, elbows on knees and head on his hands.

Oh, why. Why, he recited this on his head. He thought about the last part of his dream. That had been new. Usually, his dream ended right after he was left cold on the ground after having listened to her voice...that voice...

Haunted him.

He would have to talk about this new piece to Urahara. He'd know what to do. Dreams were essential on this era, he'd say, because they hold the keys to secrets we ourselves don't know we have.

But what the hell did hell cracking loose have to do with that?

He groaned quietly into his hands.

Urahara would know. At least he hoped or else he would have to sleep on it (literally) for who knows how long until he finds out what it means, himself. And, for the sake of the Chains of Darkness, this would be the last straw. He had enough of his personal hell to deal with as it was.

Quivering slightly, he rose and walked towards the window of his room to stare through its pane and up to the crescent moon that shimmered fondly down at him. He stared at it for a long time, its whiteness sewing into his eyes, until his heartbeat managed to slow down. He leaned forward, his forehead touching the cold pane which fogged up at the contact of his dampened skin, and sighed. His eyes closed. Shivers traveled down his arms, to his toes and he felt better.

When he opened them he looked from the moon down to the ringed orchard that was faintly lit up with silvery light and up again. He was in level with it being on the top floor. He watched as his breath cropped circles on the window pane, drawing a halo on the bottom of the moon.

She haunted him. It was something he himself had felt ever since he had thought his first thought. It was ludicrous, really, to think something inanimate would watch over you- or haunt you. But when she spoke to him in his sleep, he couldn't believe it to be any more real. He could always feel the whisper of the wind, her breath, caress his face. And he believed it connected him. To what he didn't know. There was a part of him that was being pulled to it- to the moon, the spirit, to the believe or whatever it was- and he always resented the sudden vacancy it left him with. Like in his dream, it called to him.

'Come to me' it said. Three simple words. So much promise, so much longing behind them. As if whatever it was needed him as much as he, unbeknownst, needed it. And truth be told, he hated the feeling. Partly because he hated not knowing. Well, no. He only hated the fact that he didn't know where the feeling came from. The unknown was an essence all in its own that fed his inspirations, so it was welcomed, and it became almost logical to think of the intangible as something logical when in the end it all made sense to his soul. If that made sense.

Bah, whatever.

Straightening himself up, he turned away almost eagerly before heading for his door. He crossed the length of his room as he passed his bed, set towards his right on an angle near the floor to ceiling glass pane, and past shelves stacked with thick volumes (in which he seldom indulged himself), and just diagonally across where his personal toilet stood, he stopped. He turned the knob.

Inside, lights on and all, he leaned into the sink with his hands gripping the sides to support himself and dipped his head till his chin brushed against the collar of his flannel. After he finished contemplating, he reached for the handle where water rushed downwards and gave himself a good splash on the face. He sighed almost in reflex and turned the water down.

He looked up to his reflection.

He didn't know what had triggered him to jump out his window, three floors high and landed him almost effortlessly on the dented soil.

Maybe it was the streak of white on his hair, the translucent color of his eyes, his suddenly chalky skin, or the hunger written on his face.

Whatever it had been had him speeding through underbrush and staining his pajamas with dirt. Reckless and most of all needy, he passed the surrounding orchard of his home first, the longest trip before he reached the first city lights, lamp posts and houses, right until he breathlessly got to his destination. Never once did he take in his bearings. He glanced at the building, dormitories, to reassure himself it was the right place and trudged to the leading granite path until he sought out the steel ladder. Feeling his own adrenaline catch up with him, he jumped once and gripped the middle bar with his hand. The other followed; his feet pushed him upwards until he stopped by a slightly ajar window.

He pushed it aside so he could climb in, the slightest of noises present by his entrance, and nearly collapsed right where he was. He had a knee propped to support his weight. His eyes had already been adjusted to the dimness ever since he left the house so their search turned out effortless. She seemed to have just acknowledged his presence as she shifted on her bed while she sat. The gleaming of his eyes flashed as their eyes briefly met before he joined her side.

"Sorry for the late hour."

"It's fine," was all he let her say before pushing himself on her. Their bodies wriggled under each other's weight as he accommodated himself into a comfortable position. Finally, he had her pinned against her pillow, his face tucked between her neck. He heard her breath hitch suddenly as he neared his mouth closer to her, his teeth throbbing with need. It took him all he had to not groan about it. Her hands had snaked around his torso, pulling him closer.

"Do it," she whimpered under him. And so he did. He wasn't to waste time once he had sought out her pulse point, so he hastily bit down. But gently at first.

She had her breath held, waiting for him. So he made sure to finish up quick. When he finished, she released it with a lingering sigh.

He settled himself next to her, after having disentangled their limbs, and was taking deep breaths. Now that he had satiated this...clearly unplanned seating (er, bedding?), he should've felt quenched.

Should've.

In all honestly, he wanted more. As he tasted the lingering sweet liquid still on his lips, thick and rich in taste, he felt a pang of yearn followed by a jab of restless thirst.

He was such a sad person.

He had come all the way from home, unthinkingly, illicitly, and desperately, to not only find his needs met without restraint, but to end up unsatisfied. He was full alright. But he wasn't satisfied. And he needed to be. And he also hated himself for it.

What is wrong with me? He thought sourly. He clenched his jaw, biting his tongue, and felt anger and pity for himself.

He didn't know who to blame for these sudden...compulsions. Ever since he had started to have those nightmares, he would get them. At first the urgencies were pulling but still tolerable. He could still control himself just fine.

But now...

He wasn't even supposed to be here.

He blamed his dream. The crack on the ground and the fear of not knowing what had been chasing him. And possibly gotten him.

Because he had nothing else to blame, he chose that and he would stick with it. It only seemed logical. Right.

He felt stirring beside him. She had turned away from him after he had paid no mind to her. Crap. Just way to go.

"Senna," but she was already away in a fitful sleep. It was a normal aftermath. He felt slightly guilty at nearly drinking her dry. But not really.

Eventually he left her. He wasn't exactly on the mood to flash home so soon, so instead he wandered about the empty streets until he was standing before Karakura Academy. Late at night it looked defenseless. Not that it ever looked contemptuous before or anything. Shadows clung to its sharp angles and dimmed its actual structure.

He had toned down his vision slightly to enjoy the, almost, serene grounds of his school. Enjoy was too big a word. What he meant was...experience (?) the thing in a new light- or lack of it. He approached it aimlessly. He kicked his feet toward the railing on the side of the courtyard.

Karakura Academy stood two floors high; it was suitable for the short amount of students confined to it. Since Karakura City wasn't that big of a city, and all, there were only three high schools residing in it. None too impressive, but enough to keep suspicions at bay.

Yeah, his people couldn't afford a worse rep.

The thought brought him back to where he started. Who was he?

That he didn't know, and would rather not know. But what he was, now that was a different story. Ok. He belonged to this society, the Cold Ones (not the most inconspicuous of names, he thought), and then there was this...prophecy.

Yeah.

Even after all these years, he still couldn't fully wrap his head around the concept. Who could actually take blood-sucking mythological creatures for real anyway? And, most ridiculously of all, who could not believe such a thing when they, particularly him, were born that way?

Ri-dick-ulous.

It's not like he had a choice, anyway. But that's what he was. Just another creature in disguise. Bred to fulfill some ol' prophecy for the sake of saving anyone else the trouble.

Let's see, he mused, since I've got no choice, where should I start?

He was walking leisurely across a built-in stone path leading to a more open part of the courtyard. Darkness clung like a cloak on the trees ringing the boundaries. He shivered lightly at the thought. He couldn't get the vivid image off his head yet. And something told him he wouldn't be able to for quite a while.

There was a tugging breeze, tame, and it was weaving through the brown leaves of the trees, bringing them down at times to the slightly yellowing grass. He listened to it wheeze its way around him, through him, and that eased his thoughts again. Suddenly he missed yesterday morning. Just him and nature, being one with his own body. Just feeling and nothing more. He desperately wanted that, more than anything else, more than blood...

He wanted freedom because he didn't know how long he would have it. And he hated not knowing. Even if some part of him warned him it was better not to know, he put the thought aside.

He could start by listening. Urahara, his care-taker, foster dad, his designated guardian, has always been keen on reminding him of that. He knew he should listen to what he said, being well aware of the heaviness his words tended to take. Most probably why he wouldn't listen, he figured.

His powers were dangerous. By learning to control them he would gain stability. They said it became easier to master them as one matured. Easier to control the thirst. Only that he wasn't completely convinced. The more he matured, the more challenging it was to get a hold of his thirst, the more complicated it was to reason his unexplained nightmares. The more he was losing himself. So he also had the better deal of the bargain. The immaculate sense of unrestraint freedom. Knowing things no other simple creature on earth could know. The crystal clear reality of the world where nature became one with him, where he and it shared the most intimate of secrets. Being able to listen clearer than...anything else.

He loved that.

Then a drawer somewhere inside of him slid open, releasing all those locked melodies with newfound zeal. Like a tidal wave summoned by the cleverness of the moon, his whole body and soul shook as they were fiercely toppled over with it, enveloped in an embrace only he was able to embrace without crumpling. Now, every little brush of the wind turned to melodious hums. The night softly sung to him, like a thousand breaths of harmony. And in between, somewhere far off for him to barely hear, he heard the whisper.

'Come to me'

And with it he sensed the slight tingling of longing rise within him, somewhere far, far inside him. But still as strong as ever.

He needed to get home.

As he ran, past blurring lights and shadows, the tide followed him, tightly wrapped around him, unwilling to let go until he managed to get them down somewhere they could be remembered. Not exactly kept whole, but only a memory of what they were. It was enough.

His music.

And as he ran, for a split second, he was reminded of his dream. But only of the better part. The desperate, fearful way he ran away- no, not away, but toward that pull. To the moon. To her voice.

That voice...

Was the reason behind everything.

Uh, Greetings…?

Yeah, so I'm totally new and lost. But fear not, I'll find my way around eventually.

As for the thoughts going through some of ya'lls heads, 'oh not another vampire story!' well it's not really one. Well, no, yes it is. But! I'm only using these mythological creatures, as well as the wolves that fall under the term, as a medium to my story. Just trying to spread my own ichiruki love.

So…

Got Reviews?