Chapter One: Man Hunt
[ Toshiro P.O.V ]
Matsumoto was crying.
She was hunched over in the tiny room that barely passed as the lounge, sheets of paper and nonsense items thrown carelessly about the place, and she was sobbing into her dirty hands, sobbingly harshly and heavily, and her long, wavy blonde hair had escaped from it's usual bun and was flowing freely down her back; along her cheeks; brushing lightly against the floor. Her cat-demon, Riley, was there, too, mewling pathetically beside his female-counter part, his ash-grey face nuzzling into the grim-coated folds of her dress.
I just stood there, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, silent as a whisper. The sight of the woman I regarded as my mother tore viciously at my chest with such strength it was very nearly a physical pain, and I bit hard on my lip to stop myself from crying out, to stop myself from catching Matsumoto's attention; because as much as I wanted to comfort her, my presence would only make things worse, considering I shared several features of the man she was weeping over. Stella, my snow leopard-demon, brushed her black-tipped tail against my leg reassuringly, her brilliant blue eyes shimmering like stars.
I smiled down at her faintly, and ran my gloved fingers through her snowy fur.
Then I shut the lounge door quietly, slowly, carefully; my turquoise eyes never leaving the woman's shuddering form. Guilt ripped at my chest, and again I wished that I could have helped her. Stella tugged gently at my sleeve, and I glanced at her, expression sorrowfully, and nodded glumly.
I hurried away from the lounge room, and stepped into the kitchen through the hind entrance. It was in no better state. The benches were cluttered with dirty plates and cups and eating utensils, and one of the cupboard doors hung on it's hinges, squeaking weakly. Grim and dirt marred everything, and the cold radiating from the heavy snow that had fallen outside was harsh and sharp here because of the shattered window, biting at what little of my skin was exposed. Sadly, most of that was my face, and within moments my cheeks were flushed and my skin was prickling with the cold. I pulled my scarf up, but the material was thin and it did very little.
"You need a better scarf," Stella told me, and her voice was smooth and musical and strong as always. I envied her ability to forever sound as though she was in control, despite the fact she was a part of me.
"Yeah," I scoffed. "I also need a better house, better food and water supplies, better stuff and a better way to deal with Matsumoto."
Stella flicked her black-tipped ear, and then leapt up onto one of the three chairs gathered around a small and battered table. There was an empty bowl sitting on the surface, cracked and dusty, and she eyed it wearily.
"Well, complaining won't do any good." She snapped. "Suppose we go get some?"
"From where? Since the war began, those bastards take everything! Where am I supposed to get God damn food?" I demanded fiercely, my temper suddenly sky-rocketing, and anger snarled in my throat. But Stella looked at me in that way of her's, with her icy-blue eyes flashing and her tail twitching rhythmically from side to side, and that anger shrivelled and died.
It was immediately replaced with exhaustion, and I slumped down in a chair, and crossed my arms over on the table, and rested my chin in the dark-green folds of my knee-length jacket.
"Sorry." I muttered.
"..Me, too." She mumbled in reply.
Saying since the war began made it sound as though I knew what it was like before the death began, but I didn't. Well, perhaps I did, but I had been far to young to remember, and now all I saw within the dark abyss of my memories was the crimson glow of freshly spilt blood and the deafening crack of a rifle going off and the shrill shriek of a woman as her husband's dead body slapped harshly against the frozen earth and his demon vanished instantaneously, materializing into the cold air.
Matsumoto claimed I was about two or three when it began, the Worlds War, and, at the time, Mama and Papa were still alive, still happy and warm, with her raven-demon Zel and his dog-demon Crystal. But then the Man Hunts started, the horrific periods of time that could last as long as several months where soldiers from the other world - yeah, that's right, the other world - came with guns and poison, searching tirelessly for those who believed in a religion different from their own.
We called them Sliders. Because they slid in from another dimension entirely - sauntering through a blinding white rip in the sky itself - and slid out again once their murderous task has been completed. Their weapons resemble ours, and so do their forms, and they have demons just like ours - animals like cats or dogs or bats or bears - but they are so utterly different.
I hate them.
Suddenly Stella bolted upright, her lips drawn back in a menacing snarl and her white hair sticking up all over the place, and I felt her surprise and suspicion jolt through me, and I leapt out of my seat and drew the knife I always had tucked away in my sleeve. Stella pounced down beside me, low on her hunches and growling, as there was a loud crash, and the thunder of foot falls, from some where in front of me.
Matsumoto was in the lounge, which was behind the kitchen. She would be safe as long as she stayed there.
There were two entrances to the kitchen, the back-way and the larger front-way. The sounds were coming from the front, and they were getting rapidly closer, and my heart was racing in my chest, and sweat was sparkling on my brow. I was a little scared, but I beat that down and slipped behind the counter, coached down and knife at the ready, and Stella slide behind me, ears pressed firmly against her scalp.
"You go for his demon," I whispered calmly. "Hold her down. I'll jump 'im."
Stella briefly pressed her nose to my shoulder, and then she was battle-ready all over again.
The foot-falls had stopped now - no, they'd lessened, softened, but the intruder was still coming, slinking down the hall. I could hear a second pair of foot steps, and guessed it was his demon.
And then the kitchen door opened, and I saw a look of black and grey before springing from my hiding spot and slamming my boot into his middle. The man was taken completely by surprise and took the full force of my blow, and doubled over, all the wind blown out of him. His husky-demon yelped with surprise and pain - she was feeling the blow of my attack as well - and then snarled and made to lung at me but Stella was faster, and had the damn thing pinned down before she could take a single step -
Wait.
Husky-demon?
I gasped.
"Uncle Ukitake!"
He pushed his hood back to reveal the fatherly face I knew very well, complete with the stringy white hair and the bright amber eyes and the thick black eye brows. He was a little pale, and wincing from my blow, but he was smiling cheerfully, and ruffled my silver hair with a gloved hand as Stella released Molly from her iron-grip, and the husky growled angrily, and Stella hung her head in apology.
"U-Uncle Ukitake, I'm sorry, I - I thought -!" I stammered, lending him my arm to help him rise, while I quickly stowed the knife away with the other. Stella and Molly dragged over a chair, and Uncle collapsed into it, rubbing his middle section, which was probably an angry shade of red from my kick.
"Relax, Toshiro, it's my fault, really." He chuckled, patting my head a second time. Then he cringed, though he continued to smile. "You really are strong for a little fella, you know that?"
I chose to ignore the comment on my height - or lack of - and instead scurried to fetch him a drink. There were few clean cups left since he had to use water sparingly, but I managed to locate one and hastily filled it half-way and carefully placed it in his hands. I watched him closely as he sipped at the icy liquid.
Uncle Ukitake was my Mama's elder sibling, and, like Matsumoto had taken the role as my mother, Uncle had taken the role as my father. He was a fantastic man with a heart of solid gold, but he was also quite sickly, with a weak body continuously assaulted by coughing fits that sometimes brought blood to his lips - and it was also why I was so worried. Had my kick been any harder, and perhaps a little higher, so I was jamming my foot into his delicate rib cage, I may very well have killed him.
Molly told me as much.
"Stupid boy! You could've killed him! Can't you tell the difference between a Slider and yer own Uncle!"
My cheeks burned with shame, and Stella rubbed up against my leg, both seeking and giving comfort, and I stroked her back affectionately. Molly rolled her golden eyes, and parted her jaws to bark some more, but a sharper voice cut her off.
"Leave 'im alone, Mole. Had Ukitake been a Slider, he would have saved all our lives."
I looked up to see the pebble-grey form of Riley stalking through the room, his beautiful orange eyes - flecked with gold and green - burning with loathing as they found Molly's dull brown ones, and behind him came Matsumoto, and all traces of her tears had been masterfully removed from her face.
"Jyuushiro! What a pleasant surprise!" She chimed, dancing over and beaming down at my father figure and he grinned back, just as cheerfully, while their demons glared at one another and shot insults back and forth like hot potatoes. It was weird, seeing two humans getting along so well whilst their demons went at it, but Riley didn't like anybody - save for maybe Stella, whom he seemed to respect - and Molly couldn't stand cats, and they fought all the time - so, as strange as the scene was, I wasn't surprise.
"It's nice to see you again, too, Rangiku-chan. How have you two been?"
"Good, good. We could use with some more food, though - especially more water melons! Shiro-chan goes through them like water."
I blushed at that, partly because I was embarrassed and offended by her comment and partly because it was true.
Uncle chuckled again.
"I thought he would. Oh! Abarai-kun will be here down soon, with Zaraki and his gang. They're two or three hours behind me. They've got food and water to last a couple of weeks."
Matsumoto's eyes brightened instantly, and Riley, affected by her happiness, curled his tail around his leg and somehow refrained from retorting to Molly's most recent jab at his easily wounded pride. A touch of hope and happiness bubbled up inside me, too, but I didn't smile. As good as food sounded, Zaraki and Abarai and all the other freaks that travelled with him were a bit much for me to handle.
"Where's Momo-chan and Peach?" Uncle asked, his amber eyes searching for the hazel-eyed brunette.
"Hinamori's gone to fetch some water from the well." Matsumoto explained. "They'll be back soon."
"Wouldn't it have frozen in this weather?"
"It's heated, see - a new kind of technology that was installed a few years back. It keeps the water warm, even through winter! Haven't I told you about it? Surely, I must've..."
I tuned out their conversation, and glanced out the shattered window, where the splintered glass still clinging to the frame was glistening like diamonds and sending shafts of rainbow-light down to set the metal sink ablaze, and watched the stony grey sky. It promised heavy snow fall later, though the earth was already frozen solid, wrapped in a thick blanket of white. The whiteness stretched on forever, causing the few houses to appear that much bigger and blacker. We lived on the outside of Junrinan rather then the busy - or what was once busy - centre, so we had only a hand-full of neighbours, though we didn't talk to them much.
Hinamori used to play with some of the kids from the other houses, back when they were still children and their demons could change shape, but they'd never let me play because of my strange coloured hair, and Hinamori, as a direct response, had stopped playing with them. Hinamori was like my big sister - though it normally felt like I was the one looking after her - and it had hurt, watching her twirl away and muck around with those weird kids who thought I was some sort of hell-spawn; and I can't describe the relief and joy I felt when she turned her back on them and returned to my side, with Peach, her rosella-demon, fluttering after her.
It was cold out there, and Hinamori didn't do as well in the cold as me, but I'd gone to collect the water last time and she'd insisted it was her turn. I was worried about her - she'd been gone for a long while now - and I desperately hoped she'd return soon.
Matsumoto and Uncle began to talk light-heartedly, but all too quickly the gossip descended into a more urgent and hushed conversation about the war and the movement of Slider campaigns and the horror of their inhumane and brutal methods. Uncle was a traveller, and had been doing just that for almost three months now, and had returned to our little town only recently. And in his travels he had seen the Sliders, and the terrible acts they committed so awfully easily, and the suffering of our people and their prisoners.
"They're getting closer to Junrinan." He told us ominously, as Molly laid down and rested her head on her paws, and Riley curled up on Matsumoto's lap, and I sat down beside Stella and she brushed her nose against my cheek, fear tingling in her skin. "Abarai-kun sent me the message yesterday. They're coming quickly and you three need to move - soon. Actually, you should move on with Zaraki. He's strong and until you've found another home, he'll he able to protect you."
"Must we leave?" Matsumoto inquired, her voice low. "This is Miharu's house, after all."
I gripped Stella's fur.
Hitsugaya Miharu was my father, and I could just faintly remember his face, and the bright blue-green eyes that I inherited from him glowing with warmth as he swung me into the air and perched me on his shoulder like I was a parrot. I remember giggling crazily as he laughed like a pirate, and strode around with little Crystal barking at Stella, who, in a bird form, was fluttering madly above my head...
Stella licked my cheek, and I blinked myself back into reality.
Uncle was looking emphatic, as he understood Matsumoto's reluctance to leave this place. He'd lived here for many years before I'd been born, after all.
"I don't want you to leave, either, but there's no other way. The Sliders are getting closer everyday - and the weapons!" He shuddered visibly. "They're bringing two types of trucks - one for loading people and transporting prisoners, and the other for gassing them on the spot. It's horrific, Rangiku. The trunks look practically the same except for the little white cross painted on the transport trunks, and only a hand full of people know the different. They think they're going to be taken away, but then they start to pump in gas and they start screaming and begging to be released..."
His voice trailed away, and he grasped he head in his hands, and hunched over, battling tears as dark memories of past experiences flooded his mind. Matsumoto's expression softened and she gently stroked Uncle's back like I stroked Stella's fur, and Riley, despite the dislike he harboured for the rude husky, padded over to where Molly lay, trembling with Uncle's grief, and pressed his little pink nose against her forehead.
There was silence for a time, during which the adults seemed to speak telepathically, exchanging brief glances before Uncle tore his gaze away and returned to softly shaking and bashing away the images of what he'd heard, of what he'd witnessed, and Matsumoto would just continue to press her comforting fingers to his shoulders, to his back, and sometimes murmured meaningless words of comfort, like she used to when I was younger and cried about Mama and Papa.
And then she looked me.
"Toshiro, go and pack your things." Her voice was stern and commanding, leaving no room for argument - not that I had any. I nodded and hurried out of the kitchen, Stella fast on my heels, and hurried back into the lounge. We all slept in here because it was the largest room, and because we needed each other's body heat as the night was mercilessly cold, and we had no thick blankets or anything of the sort of conserve warmth.
We slept on thin futons, gathered together in a far corner. We owned very little, and I kept all my precious items tucked neatly under the thin sheets and lumpy pillow, and they were so few in number that they were basically invisible. Stella tugged back the sheet as I fetched a rucksack, and, carefully, I loaded my few possessions into the bag.
There was my mother's silver locket, a beautifully made piece of metal with a detailed portrayal of an angel carved into the surface, wings spread wide and hands held skyward, a ball of light shimmering between the angel's pearly palms. My mother was deeply religious and believed whole-heartedly that once death finally arrived to claim you, you would wake in a utopia of glimmering golden light and gently swaying green grass and a clear blue sky that spread on for miles and miles, bathing the world in that rich, unbroken, heavenly rays of light...
Whether I believed in Heaven or not was still a mystery even to myself, but, I must admit, it was much easier to believe she and Papa were up there in that beautiful place - sipping tea and gossiping like school children and waiting for me to join them- then to think they were just gone, that they had simply vanished - that I would never, ever see them alive again.
The next object was a picture of my parents when they'd been alive. Papa was holding me on his shoulder, like when we played the pirate game, and he was grinning at the camera, and Mama was pulling the most ridiculous and childish face - she was tugging down her eye lid so the pink skin beneath was visible and sticking out her red tongue like a ten year old - and Matsumoto was there, too, younger and happier and donning short hair. And then were was Uncle, but here he had dark black hair and his skin was slightly tanned, like mine and Mama's. Their demons fluttered and scampered and crawled around the photo, Riley perched on Matsumoto's shoulder, and Stella in a weasel form on my head, and Molly looking board and chewing her shoulder by Uncle's leg.
There was somebody else in the photo as well, a tall, pale and skinny man with a snake-demon curled around his neck like scarf, and he standing beside Matsumoto, one hand on her hip and the other waving merrily to the camera - but Matsumoto had cut his face out with my knife long ago, leaving a huge white hole.
I couldn't remember the man's name or why Matsumoto despised him so much, but I knew by the photo he'd once been an important part of her life, and, apparently, an important part of mine.
I stowed the picture away, along with the locket, and they were followed by a leather note book I found by the river three years ago. I didn't know how to write, so I drew in the note book, drew pictures of Stella and the other demons and of snowy fields and of trees and of alien landscapes and creatures that my mind conjured up whenever it saw fit. It was important to me, no matter how stupid it seemed.
I placed it gently beside the photo.
Then I rolled up my futon, and folded my blankets, and stacked them neatly. I considered doing Matsumoto's and Hinamori's as well, but they had important items stowed away in theirs, too, and it felt wrong to handle them - like I was invading their privacy - so I left them as they were.
Stella and I were walking back to the kitchen with the rucksack swung over my shoulder, when the ground suddenly trembled.
I froze mid-step, and Stella's lethal form when stiff. For a moment, all was still. Nothing moved - I even stopped breathing.
And then were was another tremor, no stronger then the first but a little longer, and that extra few seconds was enough to shake a few clouds of dust from the ceiling, and cause the lights to flicker.
"...What in the name of the Lord was that?" Stella hissed, and she stepped a little closer to me, so her fur brushed lightly against my pants.
"I have no bloody idea." I breathed. "Let's hurry and get back to Matsumoto -"
But then another tremor came, and, Lord, was it stronger; the very earth seemed to lurch, and the floorboards squealed as they bucked, and I cried out in shock as I lost my foot and tumbled to the floor, and Stella yowled in fright and dug her claws into the wood.
A shower of dust fell from the ceiling and the lights instantly twitched off, and suddenly I was choking and blinded; and I felt around, lost and scared, and I called weakly for Stella, and she mewed from somewhere to my left, and I reached out for her, clawing at the dust-choked air.
And then my fingers down her fur, and I immediately crawled to her side, and she pressed her muzzle against my neck desperately.
She was scared, too; I could feel her trembling beneath my fingers.
But, as always, none of that weak emotion reached her voice, and she sounded strong and firm.
"Are you alright, Toshiro?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, Stella, you'd know if I was hurt." She licked my cheek anyway, and I hugged her neck. "Matsumoto! Uncle Ukitake!"
"Toshiro? Toshiro! Are you alright!"
That was Matsumoto, and she sounded just like Stella - in control and calm and collected.
"Yeah, we're okay!" I shouted back, and then I coughed harshly as the thick veil of dust tickled by throat, and Stella's bright eyes peered through the dark curtain, searching.
"Come on, Toshiro, there's a way through!" She urged me to stand, and I did, clutching my chest and wheezing. It was getting harder to breath -
Suddenly, another quake, and this time -
SMASH
I'd never heard such a loud noise in my life.
The noise was enormous and shook the house to its very core, and there was a deafening crash of kitchen tiles as they shattered like glass against the floorboards and the grinding crunch of wood as it was crushed beneath something hulking and heavy and then there was a terrible, wailing shriek that caused my heart to skip a beat.
"Follow me, Toshiro!" Stella yelped, and she started off at I run, and I darted after her, coughing and stumbling, but moving all the same. My eyes were watering and my chest burned and it was still difficult to breath, but that scream was more important then anything else -
And then I reached the kitchen, and gaped.
The roof had collapsed, and devoured the room whole. The walls had been ripped out and torn down by the crumbling beams and the icy, snow-hinted wind was whipping in, and there were pots and pans and huge chunks of plaster and roof tiles and dust - so much bloody dust - everywhere.
And protruding out of the rubble there was an arm, and the fingers were scraping against the floor as though trying to heave the body out, and there was a dark, sleek pool of crimson seeping across the dust-coated floor, and it glowed dully in the faint, watery light of a snowy afternoon.
I stared.
Stella stared.
We couldn't think.
The hand was wearing a glove, a black leather glove. The same leather glove that had ruffled my hair not once but twice today, only minutes ago; back when I'd been standing in this very room, listening to a tense conversation with my demon between the two most important people in my life...
No...
No, no, no, no!
Somehow, I found my voice, and screamed at the top of my lungs:
"MATSUMOTO! UNCLE UKITAKE!"
And Matsumoto replied.
"T-Toshiro..? Are you alright, sweety?"
Her voice was weak, faint - and muffled.
Muffled by the wall of rubble.
"M-Matsumoto! Yeah, we're alright. A-are you and Riley okay?"
"Right as we'll ever be, boy," Riley snickered in reply, but his voice wasn't as strong or playful or mischievous as usual.
"Where are you?" Stella howled.
"No where you can reach us," Came Matsumoto's short reply, and horror seized my heart.
"What do you mean, 'where you can't reach us'?" I shouted, and I sounded angry, vicious, but really I was utterly terrified and out of my mind with worry. "And-and Uncle Ukitake -"
I cut off, unable to finish. Matsumoto was alive; which meant the hand sticking out of the rubble really did belong to -
Tears swelled in my eyes, and, God, how I wanted to shed them. A terrible, fiery ache ripped at my chest and the tears pushed - begged - to be released, but I wiped them away, and swallowed back my screams, and shook my head to clear it of the icy mist grief and despair that was descending. Stella mewled softly, and leaned her body against my leg, and I longed to just collapse then and there and bury my face in her silky fur and cling to her neck and sob like a baby, but I couldn't - not now.
"...Toshiro, you need to go. Get out of the house." Matsumoto skipped neatly over the topic of Uncle. "Renji and Kenpachi will be here in a few hours. Find Hinamori and lie low until they get here, then -"
But there was another tremor, and the earth shuddered, and I heard another scream, but it wasn't from Matsumoto - it was fainter and came from the distance; and it was followed by a rally of shrieks and screeches and screams, and then the sickening crack of a rifle being shot - and another, and another and another, and the creak and crunch of truck tires churning up the snow as they slowly turned.
"They're bringing two types of trucks - one for loading people and transporting prisoners, and the other for gassing them..."
My blood went cold.
The Sliders were here - conducting a Man Hunt.
And Hinamori was -
Shit.
"Matsumoto! The Sliders - they're here - and - and - I-I have to go - "
"Hurry, boy!" Riley snapped. "The house'll come down on top of ya!"
I bit back the question But what about you? because they knew - and I knew - it was useless, that they were trapped in a pocket and would soon either suffocate or be crushed, and any attempt to rescue them was futile. Hinamori was still alive, though, and could still be saved.
But still -
"I love you, Matsumoto!" I cried, and I didn't care how corny or pathetic it sounded, because it was true. Matsumoto was like - no, she was a mother to me, and I loved her with all my heart, and it tore me apart to leave her here, to die like this.
And she knew that it hurt me, because she didn't make fun of me or tease my childishness or anything similar. Instead, she simply said:
"I love you too, Toshiro."
And then Stella and I ran.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, Naruto, Vocaloid or Philip Pullman's idea of 'demons'
Hello there. This is a story I've been sitting on for a while, and I decided to right it, just to get it out of my system. Recently, I've become obsessed with Philip Pullman and his His Dark Materials trilogy, which tells the story of eleven-year old Lyra and twelve-year old Will. (I love her so much! She's so amazing!) I fell in love with his "demons" idea, and I thought up Stella, and wanted to use her in a story...so she became Toshiro's demon.
(lol. Toshiro as the same kind of demon as Lord Asriel!)
Okay, so In the Shadows is set in another world where Toshiro has a demon named Stella. His world is at war with another dimension - not another planet - who invaded his world. They're called 'Sliders', for the lack of a better word. Here, everybody has demons, which are a part of your soul. And demons can change shape until you reach adolescence - then they pick once shape and stay that way. The shinigami (death god) Toshiro we all know may or may not actually become a part of the story, since this story will involve different diemensions and what not - I'm still working on that bit.
The Naruto and Vocaloid characters will eventually come into play. I might switch to Hinata's point of view next chapter and talk a little about her before returning to Toshiro and seeing if he can save Hinamori and Peach or not. Also, the ages of the vocaloids are going to be messed up. (At this point, Rin and Len aren't even born yet, and they won't be for a very long time.)
This is also my first attempt at a first person view. I apologize if it seems...I don't know, um, wrong in some places.
...Whoa. Long authors notes. Congratulations if you made it this far! xD
I apologize for any grammar/spelling errors. I read through it, but mistakes are made. I also apologize if it seems too slow and boring.
Thank for so much for reading, and please review! I'll give you a cookie *w*