Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach
He hadn't lived a good life.
It wasn't something he was proud of, but it was the way that it was. His life had been a tangle of wrong turns and poor decisions from the moment he had left high school. Hell, even in middle school he was hanging out with the 'wrong crowd' apparently, which likely didn't do him any favours. Even so he had been happy enough, living each day with little effort and enjoying his youth with something that resembled a group of friends. Again, he wasn't exactly close to them, but the group was similar enough that they could hang around each other when they needed some social interaction.
Maybe that was why he was alone now.
The end had come quickly and in a horrifically uninteresting manner. He had been hit by a car whilst on his way home after shopping: what a waste of the 1,200 yen beef he had bought for dinner. After all he had decided to treat himself that evening after a receiving a small raise at work. The first since he has started the job a few years ago.
It wasn't like had had any ambitions or expectations of that job really, he just needed some money to live on. Which was why he had stayed in the office job so long, it suited his purposes so why would he leave the so-called 'dead end' job? His co-workers were bearable and worth going out for a drink with every now and then, even if the women had made it quite clear that he was a friend at best. To their credit they hadn't ignored him or anything, just as he hadn't pursued any of them which might have made the office situation a bit more awkward. Either way, he was satisfied with his lot in life and hadn't exactly aimed for promotion.
So here he was: 26, with no achievements to speak of, no girlfriend and a job that satisfied him as much as sitting in an empty room did. Ah and he was currently experiencing the side effects of a 40 mile per hour collision with a rather heavy metallic object.
"This sucks." He groaned, thoroughly unimpressed with this life beyond death.
The man's body had become ghostly in every sense of the word, with both his skin and clothes becoming translucent. Even more annoyingly he had gain an unsightly chain which extruded from his chest, in which a metal plate had been firmly lodged. He sighed as he looked down at the broken metal, raising a hand to toy with the end of the chain. It felt strange, like it should be much colder than the average looking iron links. Or at least he assumed they would be iron or something similar if it was a corporeal existence.
"I wonder why it doesn't hurt." The dead man mused, before he felt like hitting himself. "Oh right, I'm dead so maybe I can't feel pain."
With that more pleasing thought, he looked down the street he was idling in. There wasn't much to see; even though a human had died here not 24 hours ago the street had already been wiped clean of blood. A testament to humanities ability to move on after death, be it on a small or large scale. Given that it was the evening the street was pretty empty anyway, but every now and then a car or person would appear for a couple of moments.
"At least they can get home." He murmured, looking at a shop window.
There was no reflection; or at least he wasn't in it. All he could see was a couple of indiscriminate shops, haloed by the orange glow of the setting sun. It could almost be considered a lovely picture, a slice of life shot from some small town. And even then he wouldn't be there, instead perpetually absent from this world and forced to stay behind and watch it. Growing melancholy, he raised his hand and tried to lay it on the glass, surprised when he actually managed to touch it.
"Yoshimato Maseko...where are you." He questioned. Yes, that was his name and he was missing from this world, the reflection of a brown haired, green eyed man was nowhere to be found.
Maseko remained motionless lost in his own thoughts of a life which he no longer had, a life which he now wished he had done more with. It didn't help that he didn't really know what he could have done to improve his life, saying 'I wish I had a goal' was one of the more useless thoughts he had since his death. But it was endlessly frustrating that this was it; despite how poor it may have been his life was at least his choice, but now he had nothing and no way change that. Power over his life had been ripped from his hands and left him here, in a pointless, empty existence as he either watched his family grieve or simply did nothing.
And it had only been around 3/4's of a day since he had died. Yet he could still see feel the crushing nothingness all around him, the loneliness that he could not rectify. Along with this was always the knowledge that all he could do from now on was watch as everyone he loved and knew moved on without him, until he was nothing but a memory.
It hurt.
"And people call me melodramatic." He grumbled, trying to make light of the situation. Yet still he could feel a pain in his heart already, more than that he could feel it in the chain tied to his chest.
Some people might call him a pessimist to think like that, but he would argue that it was being a realist. There was no point wondering if this was a dream; if he might wake up and be in his apartment bed, late for work. Or if this was some weird trick of the mind and he would wake up in a hospital instead, surrounded by beeping monitors and white coats. No, the pain he had felt was far to real for that.
The pain he felt now was far to real for that.
To feel your bones breaking as someone directed a mountain of force at you, to feel that shock when no one reacted as you stood back up...to look down at your own corpse. That was not something which could be dreamed up on a whim, it was unyielding and burnt into your mind. When that iron brand cooled, your body was all the colder as everyone looked through you and then you were left with but one choice.
Accept the truth, or run away.
He had made a promise never to run away from the truth, so here he stood.
"Am I the only dead person?!" Maseko suddenly complained, turning and looking down the street again in irritation.
One would have thought that death was reasonably common, in the very least he was not the first person in the history of his town to die. Yet there were no more ghosts aside from him in view, everyone he had seen thus far had just been another living human. Maybe this was the afterlife, somewhere he was condemned to be alone and watch people live better lives than he did. Growing impatient he finally decided to have a look around the town to see if anything was different, if there was some sort of exit.
So he turned and started wondering down the pavement, not having a clear direction in mind but just wanting to move away from the street he had died on for a moment. It was strange, despite his wish to leave he felt strangely...disconcerted when he moved away from the area of his death. It was like leaving home for the first time as a child. Maseko snorted at the thought;he wasn't a child and hadn't been for a long time, let alone the fact that this place in no way resembled a home. He couldn't explain the feeling really, but put it down to having a good deal of his bodily fluids congealed on the surface. There was more of his physical body in the tarmac by this point than there was under his control, he had to make do with this jelly-like replacement body.
Never-the-less he managed to leave the street, one hand toying absently with the chain on his chest for whatever reason.
Maseko continued to search for anything abnormal in the town, something which might make him feel less alone. More specifically he was searching for something that was like him, something which was part of the supernatural world and might give him a purpose. Thus far he had only seen an assortment of living people, no doubt making their way home before it got too dark. With a small sigh he glanced to the right and a shimmer of blue caught his eye, sparkling in the fading light. With no other direction in mind, he headed towards it, almost mesmerized by something which stood out from the dull background.
Before he knew it he stood before the source of he light: a small pond. He assumed it must be a bit windy because the surface danced and rippled as he watched it, unable to feel the cool breeze.
And then it was gone.
The sun had finally dipped below the horizon and he was left in darkness, alone in the small park he had wondered into. Where the water had called out to him before, a black liquid was left in its place, barely visible. Perhaps if he had been alive he might have questioned the lack of street lights in this particular area, but as it was the thought never occurred to him. Only that the light was gone and he had found nothing more than a trick of the natural world, which he was no longer part of.
"I'm...dead." He murmured, staring into the pool which had drawn him here.
At some point after that he fell to his knees, numb body not feeling the dirt as it scraped against his clothes. His death was something he thought he had come to terms with, but it had been once more shoved to the forefront of his mind as he stared down blankly.
Everything was wrong.
"What am I...? Wher-" He started, suddenly wanting to be back at the street where he died. In this dark park he could only shiver and search for anything that might be able to help him, draw him back up to his feet. But there was nothing, just a twisted mess of human design and foliage, becoming one as the night merged them together through darkness. He was stuck, lost, alone, abandoned.
A buzzing started to fill his ears as his thoughts started to run wild, rendering the animalistic roar in the distance unheard as white noise swamped his brain. Like every thought was happening at once they came: what am I? What is this place? How do I leave it? What will my family do? Will they care? Will anyone care?
Who did this to me? Where are they? Did they get punished?
I want them to be punished.
I want them to hurt.
"I want-" He finally said out loud, only to stop when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
'No. That's impossible.' His thought cried, knowing that he had been able to pass through people earlier in the day. Solid objects may still be solid but there was no way the thing on his shoulder was inanimate, he could feel it.
The warmth pulsing through it, contrasting his own static and cold flesh. That alone was enough to make him freeze, his situation had bee completely changed by the one action of whoever...whatever... was behind him. Even as his mind argued that this was some sort of trick bought on by loneliness he slowly turned his head, desperate to see if there was truly something new happening to him.
There was.
A boy looking no older than 17 stood before him, black robes contrasting greatly with the shock of orange hair which exploded from his head. Even in the darkness he seemed to stand out, not just his hair but every aspect of his body seemed to be glowing ever so faintly in the void. So much so that he could only stare, wide eyed at the figure who still had his hand on Maseko's shoulder. The boy looked back at him with warm, brown eyes for a moment before they flicked down to his chest and he frowned slightly.
"Hey, you shouldn't do that." He said simple, confusing Maseko.
"W-what?"
The boy pointed at his chest.
"That."
Masko's eyes darted down and he was surprised to see that he had been yanking on the chain in his chest and that it seemed somehow shorter than it had been before. It wasn't by much but it was certainly noticeable. At that moment a small portion of the chain fell off, making it a millimetre shorter than it had been before. The older man stared at it with morbid curiosity, both intrigued and alarmed at the decay. He had no idea what would happen if the chain vanished completely, perhaps he would be able to move on-
"Breaking the chain won't help you move on. It will only hurt you." The boy said suddenly, as if reading his mind.
Finally, Maseko seemed to pull himself together and look up at the boy – his only source of answers, with a desperate expression. Even as he did that a part of him scoffed at the idea that this kid could know what was going on, he had never been fond of teenagers when he was an adult. A lot of ego for those who had done even less than him to deserve it most of the time. But for now he ignored those nagging thoughts.
"What's happening to me?!" He almost shouted, once more unconsciously yanking on the chain.
The young man suddenly scowled and crouched down, looking him in the eye.
"I said don't pull on it idiot, I'm here to help you move on but if you keep trying to remove you chain of fate your going to end up as a hollow."
"A h-hollow?" Maseko questioned, not knowing what the word meant in this context.
"Yeah, big monsters with masks. You seen any since you died?" The orange-haired boy explained with a sigh, standing back up and looking out into the distance.
"M-monsters? No, I haven't seen anything out of the ordinary...but I was right; I'm dead aren't I."
The boy looked back around and gave a kind smile, guessing that he might have been a bit harsh on the newly dead soul. It wasn't every day that he even had the chance to talk to a plus like he was now, doing a spirit burial became more like a routine the more you did it. You tended to forget just how important it was on an emotional level, beyond the obvious flaws of letting souls become hollows. So now, when he was given this chance he decided to try and help this man out a bit, to make it easier for him.
"Ah, I suppose it's a bit confusing." He smiled and promptly sat down in front of Maseko. "I'll start from the beginning, I'm a shinigami and it's my job to help you move on to the next life, or the Soul-Society. I do that with this." He finished by lifting something off his back and laying it on his lap, reveling it to be a oversized sword.
Maseko jumped back in horror, almost falling into the pond as he took in the deadly weapon. That plus the self-proclaimed Shinigami's words made him want to run for the hills before he listened to any more and got himself sliced up. Dead or not he didn't want to be impaled thank you very much. The Shinigami seemed to recognise his mistake and lifted both his hands to exaggerate his apology.
"No no, sorry not like that. All I need to to is tap you on the head with the hilt and off you go." He quickly explained, lifting it to display the small symbol on the bottom.
Maseko nodded warily and sat down again, still confused by this whole situation.
"R-right, so you said you're a Shinigami?" He asked.
"Yup." said Shinigami nodded and pointed a thumb at himself. " The name's Kurosaki Ichigo, pleased to meet you. Whilst we are called Shinigami we aren't really gods, more balancers of the spiritual world really." Ichigo explained.
"Balancers?"
"We purify the bad souls – Hollows, and help any stray souls who stay behind to move on before they become Hollows too."
"They become...Hollows?" Maseko asked, his mind slowing down as he tried to process what that meant.
Hollows were bad souls and those souls that were left behind became Hollows if they stayed there too long. So he had a bad soul, right? If this Shinigami hadn't appeared then eventually he would have become a hollow and done whatever these so-called monsters did. Again Ichigo seemed to see his mistake and groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"Just because you're here it doesn't make you a bad soul. You're what we call a 'plus' right now, but if you stay here too long then your chain of fate will erode and take your heart with it. Or you will eventually come to resent whatever reason you stayed behind because you can't interact with anything, it's simply human nature. Calling a Hollow a bad soul is not really right either, every soul has the capacity to become a Hollow it just depends on how you died." Ichigo said, trying to reassure the man. Honestly this was an area that wasn't exactly definite regardless of how much you studied it, usually spirits with some resentment stayed behind but sometimes others did. The way a person died tended to play a large part in it, untimely deaths being the one that created the most earth-bound souls.
Luck, it seemed, played a part in deciding on if you would move on easily or not.
"So why did you call them bad souls!" Masko argued, annoyed despite the situation. It wasn't enjoyable to believe, even if for a moment, that he was a bad person at heart. However, the Shinigami just smiled sadly at him.
"What would you do if you had to slash at humans who had lost their heart every day? We cleanse them of the sins they commit as Hollows but they are still people in some aspect, this is how we live with it." The older-looking man seemed unconvinced so Ichigo rolled his eyes and pointed at the chain of fate on his chest.
"Look, you have a short chain of fate which means it won't take that long for you to turn into a Hollow. Normally it would take months but with that sort of length it'll only be a couple of weeks max, that's just due to how you perceive death. If you want me to prove that you are not a bad soul then we can wait till then and I can use this." he rapped on his sword. "to prove it to you."
"H-how would that help?!" Maseko shouted, eyeing the large sword fearfully.
"Well, if you are a run of the mill plus then off you go to the Soul-Society. If you were an evil man then the only thing that awaits you will be the gates of hell." Ichigo said solemnly.
"H-hell exists?"
"Yes." The Shinigami said simply, not wanting to delve into that topic.
Maseko shivered at the idea and looked down, not wanting to meet the serious look in the young man's eyes. They were eyes which had seen far more than his had, fought desperately against powers beyond his comprehension. So why couldn't he trust them?
Ah.
That was why.
"...bye." He murmured.
"What?" Ichigo asked, leaning forward with a frown.
"I never said goodbye." The man said softly, looking up with tears in his eyes. It was something so small and easy, but it was the thing which bit with jabbing pain in his heart.
His parents would never see him again, he had caused them pain just by dying. The least he wanted to do was say goodbye to them, to see them one last time before he took a chance with this sword wielding god. He knew he had never been the best son either; he had got in trouble at school and barely worked at any stage of his life. Again and again they would scold him for his bad grades and he would just wave them of or, even worse, shout them down. Eventually he would run away and return the same day, having no real desire to leave his house.
But the never bought it up again.
They always stood behind him and helped him when he needed it, held him when the weight of the world came crashing down upon him if even for a moment. When he had broken up with his first adult girlfriend they had been there, his dad simply sitting next to him with a beer. When he had been fired from his part-time job his mother had been the one who had helped him find a new one, which led into his recent one. It wasn't that they ever spoiled him but the made sure he knew that they loved him and wanted him to be happy, just that.
But he had failed to do even that.
Instead he had caused them pain by not seeing that car, by not surviving that fall. He hadn't been successful or given them anything to be proud of, he had simply failed. And still he couldn't even thank them one last time and give them the goodbye they deserved. Instead he was a 26 year old man crying in front of a 17 year old boy who was completely at ease with the situation, even going so far as to help a pathetic soul like him to find peace.
"I can take you to them."
Maseko's eyes grew wide, even as tears continued to fall out of them.
"W-what?"
"If you want to go and say goodbye before I send you on then we can do that. How about it?" Ichigo smiled, holding out a hand to the unfortunate man.
Hesitating briefly, but with a sudden surge of energy Maseko reached out and grabbed the hand, looking up into his saviour's eyes with unending thanks. In face he barley noticed when they vanished and reappeared in a street, his first sign of this being the hard concrete he now felt beneath his knees.
"You'll have to direct me I'm afraid." Ichigo said with a small chuckle, standing tall and looking down the artificially lit road.
The older man nodded and tried to pull himself together, also standing and quickly wiping his face with his translucent sleeve to try and remove the traces of his tears. Feeling a bit more presentable he started to direct the Shinigami to his home, almost laughing at the sheer incredulity of the situation. Which was made all the funnier when Ichigo was almost run down by a speeding car, which made the boy shout out angrily before grumbling angrily about how the driver couldn't hear him anyway. Somehow the imposing image which the sword and the scowl created on the Shinigami were lost when he was looking between two paths with a confused expression, completely lost on which way to go. If only for a moment Maseko was a ease with his death.
Then they were outside his house.
"Will your parents be up?" Ichigo asked quietly, looking at the dark windows to which Maseko shook his head in response.
"No, they always get to sleep early...it's why I was so happy when I could live alone." He said with a watery smile, holding back the tears the pricked the corners of his eyes.
"Then let's go." The boy said simply, putting a hand on Maseko's shoulder and phasing them both through the door.
"Sorry for the intrusion." Ichigo said softly as Maseko looked around the old house, finally stopping when he glanced up the stairs towards his parents bedroom.
"I'm back." He almost choked, sniffing and steeling himself to stop himself from falling apart.
The pair made their way up the stairs noiselessly and in no time at all they were inside Maseko's parent's bedroom, listening to the pair sleep in the pitch black. As there eyes adjusted to the dark, the man was tempted to close his eyes when he saw what his mother was holding in her sleep below her own tear-stained face. A picture of the three of them on their last holiday, lying on the sand on some foreign beach. With exaggerated gentleness he reached out and touched her arm, looking over to his father. He too had a more puffy set of eyes and a glass of half-finished scotch on his dresser.
"H-he was always a light drinker." Maseko said with a sad laugh, clenching his spare hand in pain. Ichigo remained silent, watching as the man gave his final farewell to the people who had cared for him his entire life.
"G-goodbye, mother, father. Thankyou...so much." He finally managed to whisper out, collapsing onto his knees and squeezing his eyes shut to stop the flood of tears from escaping. He turned to tell the Shinigami he was ready, but before he could even open his mouth everything turned white and his thoughts vanished with his body.
So Ichigo was left alone, putting his sword back on his back and with a glance towards the sleeping couple.
"Sorry for your loss." He murmured, truly apologetic that their time with their son had been cut short.
A Hollow's roar split the silence and by the time it had finished the couple were alone in the darkness once more.
(A/N) This is more of a challenge to myself, I wanted to try and look at what a normal plus might feel given that they are dead. Not all of them are going to be resentful and angry all the time, they may end that way but let's face it a lot of them start out as normal people. I mean look at the no. of child spirits in Bleach. Eventually they would all become Hollows without the Shinigami to guide them to the next plane.
As in the description this is only a one shot, but I hope you were interested at least by this little story.