Convergence of Fate

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A Toushirou Hitsugaya Story

-Bleach-

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Original Plot by: Arsenous Elation

Bleach is owned by: Tite Kubo


"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around."

~Leo F. Buscaglia


A traveling Oracle once told me, there is no reason for us to forget, even in death. You may cease to care, but you can always recall. You can recall, for there are always things to remember.

I ask you to remember. You have to remember. If not, you would be throwing away the memories and lessons learnt—and even I would desist to believe in what I recollect. No, don't mind the pain and sorrow that comes with it; don't be afraid, the Oracle had said. I see that glint in your eye, so I assume you understand.

We have met twice before. This is the third. We met and parted at different times and places. You always seem to change when I see you, like an immortal chameleon blending in ethereally with the surroundings.

~Year: 15oo~


Do you remember? During the time of ludicrously clothed humans and during the war of the Manēre and the shinigami, our paths have converged into one.

Manēre—'Immortal beings' as you call them—fed on human souls; gathering strength from the soul's memory, will, purpose, and regret. When the war was waged, the immortals began to drag the humans into the battle. They broke the peace treaty, believing that the shinigami murdered their chieftain. Of course, we didn't. The shinigami were only participating because the human beings were involved.

As a seated officer, I was ordained to help. The shinigami were rushing to find the commander of the immortals, as to stop this chaos.

I was young back then, very imprudent too; and that tactlessness had somehow brought our lives to convene.

I entered your attic brashly on the night our paths converged. I apologize, but you see, the French etiquette does not apply to me like it did to you. I did not think of knocking, for I believed that you could not see me. Through the window I came in, aiming to dispose of the Manēre that I sensed in your area. I have been going on all day hunting the Manēre, I wanted to make it quick.

But instead of finding an unsightly immortal, I found you.

A human, frail and earthly, was sitting in front of a vanity, brushing her hair. It was you. The Manēre's reiatsu dropped drastically as soon as I stepped in, leaving the air blank and unblemished. I suspected that you were the immortal I sensed, only repressing your pressure. But when you turned to me, your face pallid with fear, I retracted on my suspicion immediately. You possessed no characteristic of a Manēre, not even the unannounced gracefulness and authority which flowed from one incessantly. You were quite plain, actually. It could not be you—those beings cannot shape shift into something else, into a delicate human for example.

"Who—… Sir, are you alright?" was the first thing you asked, rising from your seat. Strangely, your voice sounded broad and incoherent. Your eyes stared with a mysterious glint of emotion behind them.

I looked down, following your gaze.

Deep red: blood.

My shihakusho was drenched in blood; I hadn't noticed my injury at all. My head spun as you asked me once more if I was alright. I realized in that moment that you could see me, but before I could do anything else, I had blacked out. When I woke, you were treating my wound and I watched you work, irritated. You refused to let me leave; although I could have just forced my way out despite my weakness. I didn't want to be healed by a human. Your cures did not affect shinigami in the prospect of punctures. But you didn't listen to my objections and made me stay. Idiot. I left soon after it was done, without thanking you. There was no reason to do so.

It didn't occur to me that you simply refused to let anyone die or suffer on your account, regardless of what the recipient is—yes, you told me so when we met again when I came back after a year.

The Manēre were becoming restless. Humans were condemned to stay in between the crossfire. The Soul Society ordered the search of the Manēre's leader. There had been no time to waste. But strange as it was, I found time—and stupidity—to visit you.

My reason, my excuse, was: the reiatsu that I sensed when we met was by some means related to you.

And just as I had dim-wittedly hoped, you were there in the same residence—as a maid serving and being mundane. Despite your initial yell when you found me sitting atop your windowsill, you received me hospitably. At first there was a silence between us, but you breached it in mere minutes and started to talk to me. You were tired from your chores, but you haven't shown fatigue. Questions, remarks, and many others were thrown at me—wherein I stayed silent before giving my ultimate answer, 'You're rather noisy for a lady.'

You blushed—rather dumbly—and kept quiet for a long while. Then you answered, a little late.

"I am not a lady. I'm just a maid, sir."

No hint of mock or sarcasm was found in your voice. It was then that you struck me as a plain, modest, but talkative maidservant. Uninteresting too; with your dull ebon hair and even more dull jade eyes. Yes, you were different from others, but extremely uninteresting.

I left soon.

It didn't take long before I was upon your window once again—how foolish of me. You were sitting in front of the vanity once more. I assumed that despite your modesty, you were vain of your looks. Again, you gave a yelp of surprise when you saw me perched on your windowsill. We conversed, with you being the talker while I the listener, irritated at myself.

Without my own accord, I stayed with you for cut periods of time. I am sure that if you string those times together and measure their value, they would stretch out evenly in a huge plain.

From washing the dishes to cooking, you taught me all the things about your daily existence and I shared a little bit of mine. It wasn't fair, but you shrugged it off. You called me impossibly short to wield a zanpakutou, I called you too fragile to be an all-around maid. You let me sleep on your bed, and I let you touch my robes; I was tired from working during my shifts and you were curious in the fabric's texture. In just a matter of time, I was completely drawn into you—I visited frequently, almost nightly and left before dawn. No, it wasn't love—I simply could not have fallen for you. Friendship was what you called it.

You were a magnet, not for trouble, but you attracted objects that were otherworldly, like me. Back then, you knew that I wasn't of your world but you disregarded that fact. My clothing, my visibility, and my long absences from your abode… you didn't mind at all. It pleased you, saying that you were glad to have an occasional secret acquaintance in your room.

Ah, how I've come to hate your so-called Friendship! …it kept me from accomplishing my duties.

I had realized that I had to get away from you and your human ways. But how could I? It was too late when I decided to stay away. You were too kind to be rejected. How could I when I secretly enjoyed—much to my complete dismay—the feel of your stiff bed when I come to rest on it during the afternoons? How could I when I had anticipated your retirement from your tasks for the day? How could I when I had come to memorize every inch of your daily life like the back of my hand? How could I when I had started to…—I simply have to stop here. I was too young to know that I was being stupid and irrational. I have been very foolish, indeed.

This form of relationship lasted for five human years, as the war between the shinigami and the Manēre raged on towards its climax. The end came swiftly and without warning. It was when the war was ending; the immortals were being subdued, though their chieftain was still lost amongst the human population.

I lost you when the last battle between the opposing sides had commenced. I could only stare, stupidly, as you were consumed by the fires. It was bitter, how I lost you—no, I cannot elaborate to you on how it went. I am to tell of your deaths next time, if there is a next time.

Vows were made from our lost connection—I threw away my trust in human-shinigami relationship; stupidity will never be part of my system again; and I will invariably not slack off on my duties again. I tried to look for you in the Soul Society. You weren't there. Time passed and I moved on, smarter and different from my naivety.

Your name was Noelle.

~Year: 18oo~

As fate would have it (it was how the Oracle called it), we met again. The incredulity in itself was so great I could have lost confidence in my sight when I saw you sitting regally in your throne. Dressed in a frivolous gown, face glowing in the attention of the court, I realized that you have become a queen. Yes frail one, a queen. To see you after two centuries was maddening, as the Oracle could've imagined it. At first I couldn't believe the spectacle before me. You couldn't be that maid in the attic, I thought as I stood still. Whether a reincarnation or simply a trick of fate, I wouldn't know.

Invisible and awed, I watched you act amid your subjects. And so the server had become the served. Modesty and humility from the Noelle I knew were lost in this new, royal being. You emitted grace and authority which you didn't have before. Even your once dull features were gleaming with majestic glory.

For a long while I debated, finally putting the matter behind me. There are a lot more matters I had to take care of. And so I left to complete my mission.

Oh, but you just had a way of attracting otherworldly objects—have I not said it?—like an inducement. I found myself going back to your splendid palace, dazed. And lo, you were there, a vision in white. Ebon hair and jade eyes… you were unchanged save for the atmosphere you gave off. Staying at the corner of your throne room I wondered if you could see me. And if you could then…—no, I couldn't say it, I moved on.

But you, with your new, sharp look, gazed around the vicinity. Looking for someone. An adviser, perhaps? Your eyes landed on me, seeing me. Recognition washed over your face, and a ghost of a smile broke into your face. It was strange, how you regarded me with such warmth rather than fear when we had firstly met. All helpers, all advisers left the throne room at your command, frail one; and you hurried out of your place and embraced me.

'Little Death God! Oh, my little Death God, it is you!' you exclaimed, your subtle smile widening into a grin. I was irritated by how you called me little. I increased in stature while you retained your height from long ago, but it wasn't enough to be taller than you. I returned your embrace, but stopped midway. I could not, not anymore. Instead, I shrugged out of your arms and asked how this came to be; how you survived more than two centuries with your memories intact. Reincarnation was out of the question.

Your name metamorphosed into Queen Rafaela.

You smiled and led me to your chambers, saying that you would answer next time. Intoxicated, I merely followed you; staring at our interlocked hands. There, we talked like the old times. You touched my face, my robes and gazed on me—talking all the while. Still curious, I see. And extremely vain, too.

I returned to visit every time I got sent to the human world, even just for a brief moment. And again, you taught me things about your new life; the court life, the clothing, and responsibilities of a queen. While I boasted to you of my captainship, I was the youngest one to ever become captain you see. You laughed at me, for having a permanent scowl and being too short. I teased you about your ridiculous clothing and your fragility to lead a nation. It really was like the old times.

But things did not remain as they were. A young king from afar came to ask for your hand. It was a perfect match, for your nations to combine and be ruled by such a royal couple. Hardly suppressing your glee and excitement, you told me about the marriage when I came to visit. Everyone rejoiced. Everyone. But I… I felt queasy with your soon-to-be king. I wanted to object…but alas, I found no reason to do so. Who was I after all?

And so you were wedded. It was a fairytale ending. You lived happily with your king for three years, and even if you were tied to your family, I visited. You welcomed me warmly each time.

The end came all too harshly. The Soul Society found the chieftain of Manēre after years of searching. Three of the captains were tasked to exterminate the leader, I included. What tore at me was when I found out who the Manēre chief was.

It was you, fragile one.

That explained the mysteries I chose to overlook. The reiatsu that I sensed when we met, and your seemingly survival for more than two centuries… as for your appearance, they researched and found out that the immortals' leader could shape shift. And that's how the dividing line between us was brought down.

At first I told you calmly, without incurring any chaos. But you, for the sake of your survival, fought back. It was my zanpakutou which pierced you. I caught you as you fell, and you clung to me, desperate for your life. The other captains got to your family, while I stayed with you. Quiet and guilty.

To pass the time as you waited for your time to come, you told me the truths about certain things.

When our fates entwined in your attic room, you told me that you didn't know what you were—you had no memories of being a Manēre. You told me that you were the one who injured me on the same night without knowing why. That you always gazed into the mirror to search for answers hidden within. That your memories were only clarified when you became a queen. And the cruelest thing you revealed was that, if not for our indefinite inequalities, you and I could have… You and I………

So now you stand there, Noelle, Rafaela—and now, Akiko—in front of me. Somehow, you have survived death, but without your memories. I would have consented to tell you the whole story of our history if not for the urgency your existence has brought upon us. You, the last of the Manēre, had become human.

Fragile inside and out.

After another two centuries you haven't changed at all. Save that you are now a human and a student. You are now a mixture of humility and regality (a mixture of a maid and queen).

Of course, as time went by and with the belief of you being dead, my coldness towards you shouldn't be surprising. I am fully duty bound now, and that naive 'Little Death God' you have known and forgotten is long gone. And you are now a brash and crude girl, with the grace and gentleness of your former selves gone… We are different now—shut up, our height differences are not concerned with this.

Now, you can go live your life as you please. You can choose to believe or not. To walk away or stay. But I have a gnawing, unwanted feeling that even as we part now; we will come to meet again somehow.

It might have been that our paths have converged into one that fateful night in your attic room.

Manēre - Latin. "to remain"


Author's Note: This was originally published in Stellar Garden's account. But it was agreed upon that I take this one shot under my care.

The Oracle mentioned in here will be quite a surprise to you when he/she is revealed. But of course, I have no intention of revealing it to you… yet.

The concept of this story is quite hard to grasp. But nonetheless, I like it. I accept your criticism in any form.