Alright, I've been admonished for making my summaries to "caustic". So, here we go. This story is an Ichigo/Senna piece written as a sequel to Memories of Somebody, also written by the illustrious Malagbaal. It is a completely separate story – however, you'll probably wonder what the hell Senna is doing in his head if you haven't read the other.
The next exciting instalment of Memories of Somebody has arrived! Buy it now, and have it streamed to you direct for just $20 a week. That's right, just $20 a week. Ho hum. Plus, you'll receive a free plush Yammy to clean the toilet with. Sorry to all the Yammy fangirls. I'm sure I'm apologising to 0.00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000001% of the population though. I can't imagine there are many Yammy fangirls. Anyway, forget all that. I don't own any part of the Bleach Universe, give a big round of applause to Kibo Titu or whatever he's called for Bleach, although personally I'd rather applaude Urahara Kisuke.
Anyway, enjoy and review.
The Shadowed One Woke Up with Yawn it's Dawnin'DN: Apparently Hichigo watches the filler arcs.
Ichigo awoke early. He had already dragged himself out of bed before he remembered what his life was now. Memories flooded back to him, as he stood up, stretched and yawned widely and loudly. Images, Hollows, Rukia, Vizard, SENNA, the most recent… they bounced around within his head. He rubbed it, feeling a headache that came not because one truly had a headache, but because on was tired, coming on. The worst kind, as one could rest assured they would get worse whenever one worked, and when one needed a clear head, but then get better when you did something relaxing, leaving you with no real excuse as to why you were working lousily. He yawned again.
Woke up with yawn it's dawnin' sang Hichigo badly. I'm still alive. Turn on my radio to start up new day…
"Ugghhhh," muttered Ichigo. "What's with you, singing and acting all cheery all of a sudden?" And talking to me? Anyway, I don't have a radio.
It's all that girl's fault, King, replied Hichigo. She's an awful influence on me. And you do have radio. Internet radio. Same thing really, ain't it?
Ha.
There was a slight whoosh in the room, and Senna appeared beside him. Of course, the whoosh was only in his head, as she was in fact, not real. Well, she was real in essence, but had no mass, matter nor spirit particles. "Hey Ichigo," she said. She was dressed in black today, a slightly longer skirt and a shirt without sleeves. She seemed to try something slightly different almost every day, mostly reds and blacks, never, any yellow. "You saw someone wearing something like this the other day, and liked it, eh?" Ichigo grunted in a non-committal fashion, and replied. "Already teaching whitey bad habits are you?"
I object to being called that… that's Toshiro's nickname, not mine, said Hichigo. I prefer something like "Nightbringer-san" or even better, the Deathdealer. Anyway, don't you like my singing?
"Not really," growled Ichigo loudly. "It sounds like what would happen if a vibraphone tried to sing."
"What?" asked Senna, frowning. "No good morning?" Clearly, she couldn't hear what he thought to Hichigo, thought Ichigo, or what Hichigo thought back. Not when she was out and about at any rate.
There was a creaking sound from the cupboard beside him, as he turned around and began to get ready to leave… He was early today – which made a pleasant surprise, although it might not be, when he thought about the fact that this meant the cupboard was still occupied.
"If you're implying I snore, Kurosaki Ichigo," said Rukia, pulling the cupboard door open a crack, "I suggest you shut up now."
"Rukia!" he said, startled. It was so unusual for him to be awake but find her still in bed that he nearly collapsed onto the floor in a fit. She was the early riser, he was normally pretty late, these days especially.
"You're early," continued Rukia. "Senna wake you up or something?"
Ichigo could almost have hugged her – especially if she'd been out of the cupboard and dressed – but it was just so nice to finally hear someone use her name, without looking at him as if he were making up invisible friends. Hey, there goes Ichigo, the supersonic two year old with the brain cell capacity of a flea, people would shout, Rukia being amongst the most cynical of them. Thank goodness for Urahara and Mirokumaru. He decided not to hug her. Kon tried all the time, and look what happened to him… Come to think of it, where was Kon? He hadn't seen him in ages… well, for a whole two days.
Ichigo stood up and stepped away from her cupboard, giving her time to do whatever she did every morning. "Almost," he replied. "She started up pretty much up in chorus with Hichigo."
This drew Rukia's head back around the corner pretty quickly. "I can't believe that you're talking to the hollow," she said quietly. "It's almost like you've gotten used to it…" she continued. "It's quiet strange."
Ichigo stood, facing away from her for a moment, but then turned back towards her. "It is... disturbing, I guess. It's bizarre, as if I've always had him here nowadays." He reached a hand up to his face, and curled it around an invisible mask. Beneath his hand, blackness began to curl, and take shape, lightening and forming into a bleached white mask, with dark purplish black bars across its left – the mask of a Vizard, or hollowized Shinigami. His eyes beneath it gleamed out yellow at her, and she felt the bizarre feeling she always got when Ichigo wore his mask… that both an enemy and a friend gazed out from beneath the familiar, friendly fringe of spiky orange hair. Ichigo Shirosaki, Hichigo Kurosaki.
But then, with another wave of his hand, it dispersed, disappearing as if it had never been. "It's so much easier now…" he said to her. "As if, by accepting him, the power has become even tamer… I'm beginning to understand, I think, just how the Vizard use it so effortlessly, I think – by flowing with it, and not really trying to control it."
Ya gotta get in da groove, muttered Hichigo, putting on a fake sounding hippy voice. Go with the flow, King. Hahaha.
Are you drunk, or mad?
Rukia shrugged away her feeling of anticipation and frowned at him. "You know, Ichigo, nice to talk, but you realise it's Sunday, right?"
Both, replied Hichigo to Ichigo's question.
Ichigo groaned to himself and asked, "Really?" Ichigo put down the small blue and white (Yes. Ishida had made it for him) carrybag which he'd been shovelling text books into from under the bed. He banged a solid metal one which shouted at him in a rather angry and somewhat depressed fashion. Ah, that's right. That's what had happened to Kon.
"Really," replied Rukia, apparently not hearing the angry tones of teddy bear locked in a sound proofed metal case. Perhaps this was one of the reasons it was sound proofed. Kon would have been happy to know it was strong enough, that if the house had burnt down it would be one of the few items to survive it. He would really have appreciated it, if the lock were on the inside and could be operated by a stuffed toy.
"Can we go do something, Ichigo?" asked Senna, lifting her arms above her head and stretching to her full height on tip toes.
"Like?"
"Anything."
"Right."
"Ichigo?" asked Rukia, hearing only one side of the conversation.
"Yeah, it's fine Rukia… Just…"
"Talking to Senna," she finished off for him with a faint smile. He grinned at her.
"Yeah."
*****
The shop was a small one huddled in between two large buildings in the centre of town.
Ichigo sat back in the restaurant chair, and prepared himself to talk to himself. It must truly look pathetic, him sitting there at the two person table, by himself, talking. He tried not moving his lips too much. He didn't think it worked to well, especially from the odd looks he was getting. One family had actually gone so far as to move to a table on the opposite side of the building.
Of course, the chair was actually occupied. Not physically, nor even really spiritually, by a memory. Senna sat opposite him, looking rather glum.
"This is kinda pointless, you know, when you stop and think about it," she said, drumming the fingers of one hand briefly upon the table.
"Ughh?" asked Ichigo looking around the shop, trying to look as if just sitting there with nothing better to do, talking with his mouth full and waiting for somebody. That was it… Just what he always wanted to do with his time. "I'm having incredible fun!" his expression said – "HO HO HO, I just love sitting here all by myself."
"We've been wandering aimlessly around town pretty much most of half the morning now, and there hasn't really been anything much to do… and now we go to a restaurant, and what's the point, when I can't eat anything anyway?" asked Senna. She put her feet up on the seat and rested her head on her knees.
"Fine, fine, already," said Ichigo, wondering what else they could do… The movies might be a good bet, he'd only have to pay for one ticket which would be nice, but keeping the seat next to him un-occupied? He could say he was waiting for someone, he supposed, and once it started no-one was moving around anyway. "I've got a better idea then…"
Senna looked up at him expectantly, and he paused, thinking. Definitely the movies… or they could finally go up that damnable ferris wheel for her, he supposed. Or something similar to that… Karakura town had an amusement park of sorts too. Or they could just go down to the river and sit, he supposed, but he didn't think Senna would appreciate that overly… She didn't tend to sit around doing nothing, she'd vanish whenever he did something she considered monotonous.
He'd actually been amazed how smoothly having Senna about had gone. Whenever things got boring she went and sifted through his memories with Hichigo, which while disturbing, admittedly made things a lot simpler as he didn't have to deal with her and keep her amused. She amused herself greatly up there, of that he had no doubts.
He looked up as a boy walked past the window, and glanced into the shop. He stared at him for a moment before realising what had caught his eye. "Probably knows Ishida," he muttered through a mouthful to Senna, pointing underhand to him.
"Why?" she asked.
"Inverted Quincy symbol." It was a well known fact that Ishida had not just joined the sewing club at school. He had founded it. Hence its name – the Blue Crosses, which as far as Ichigo was concerned, was rather corny. Ishida must certainly find it amusing, he thought, all these people walking around with Quincy symbols all over them, not knowing what they are. Funny thing though, he'd never seen the guy before. He scratched his chin. Maybe Ishida had finally gotten around to putting his designs up online. Wouldn't put it past him. Hey, even Ichigo's wallet had one of the blasted things on it nowadays… not to mention Kon's head.
"Oh," she said. "I'd never have noticed."
Ichigo stood, pushing the plate away, and walked out, having already paid. He held the door open momentarily open for Senna to slip through, but she walked through the shop's glass panelling instead, and looked up at him and smiled. He could have sworn she sparkled sometimes these days, you know, the thing with the little stars and sparkly things popping up around her. Bloody manga, he thought, he was sure she did it on purpose. He'd have to stop giving her ideas.
He looked down at her and was about to suggest that they go off to the movies when something in his pocket pulsed, a burst of warmth radiating out from it.
He pulled it out, his Shinigami Representative badge. It pulsed blue again, and gave him a direction, like a compass, though it was more of a mental impulse as to the direction which it was coming from.
"Let's go!" shouted Senna, as Ichigo slapped the badge to his chest, letting his body collapse to the ground any old way. He grimaced at the thought of dealing with an ambulance when he got back, but what could one do? (Rukia had a good answer for him. Take Kon. Unfortunately, he didn't really appreciate this answer, having something which could be best described as Konphobia, although it was also possible it was just a fear of being labelled as the village pervert, not to mention carrying around a stuffed lion which would occasionally shout and kick.) He lifted off the ground in the direction the badge indicated, with a brief shunpo, which Senna followed through with him. She was now also dressed in Shinigami robes – for the spirit of the thing he supposed. (Ichigo didn't notice the bad pun)
"It's around here somewhere," muttered Ichigo, jumping over a yard with a small Jack Russel in it, which growled and barked at this shadowy aerial menace soaring overhead. (Many animals can see spirit beings. It's just humans are advanced enough to not, not believing in any of that sort of nonsense)
He stopped, and hovered in mid air, standing as if apparently upon solid ground. It had taken him quite some time to get used to this particular aspect of being a Shinigami – gravity could be treated as a figment of one's imagination. The important part was not thinking you were going to hit the ground, and then you wouldn't. Something else that took a lot of getting used to was the way that one could skid in the air: and pick up clouds of dust as if fighting on normal ground. It was very strange, sometimes he thought it was all just for the special effects. Maybe it was supposed to be steam? But no, it looked more like dust.
"It should be right here," he said.
"It isn't though," said Senna cheerfully, looking down beneath herself at the nice long drop.
"No shit," he said.
"Ichigo," she said trying to sound serious and reproachful, yet failing miserably. "Is that any way to talk to…? What is it?" she asked, as he looked up sharply. She felt it too, suddenly, through Ichigo's senses. A burst of intense reiatsu (spirit power or force for those who watch in English) rippling out beneath them, travelling incredibly quickly, in a straight line beneath them, too quickly almost to sense… Yet it was so powerful… And it wasn't anyone he knew doing it. He was sure of that much at least.
He looked down at his Representative badge. It had gone cold. Whatever that burst of reiatsu just now was, he knew what it had done. The Hollow was dead.