A/N- This is my first ever fanfiction, and it's probably really, really bad. Also want to tell everyone right now that this fanfic isn't gonna be very romantic. There are bits and pieces of fluff, but it's mostly manipulation of the storyline.
Please comment! I don't mind flames- PLEASE FLAME IF YOU'D LIKE. This way I know how I can edit my story to make it better. =]
Much thanks to Karrett-sempai and Ying-sempai for looking over my work!
Disclaimer- I do not own Bleach, but I wish I did.
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Heartsong – Chapter 1
The faint stench of sweat and blood wafted towards me, making me freeze in place. A bunch the crazy people from the eleventh division were coming this way. My body screamed at me to flee, but my mind refused to obey. I lightly rested my hand against my best friend Hanataro's shoulder making him pause. Years of experience made him realize that I always had a knack at sensing bad news before it came.
"What is it Amaya-chan?" He asked worriedly.
"I t-think we should take another path…" No good. There were no paths leading away from this main one.
"Why?" He followed me anyway.
Leading him to the very side of the road, I put a hand on the wall, and attempted to flatten myself against it without making it seem too evident. Eleventh squad members love to constantly pick on other shinigami, especially if they were weak; I was among those that strongly disliked Kenpachi-taicho's dismissive behavior towards this attitude in his subordinates.
At this point, Hanataro also realized the imminent danger that we could be in, I felt him silently shrink against the wall behind me. In spite of the fact that we are both ranked officers, neither one of us is anywhere near a decent fighter, considering that we were coming from the fourth squad and all. It didn't help that I was the only one with a zanpakuto: Hanataro had forgotten his back in the fourth squad, unsurprisingly.
My eyes closed, I stretched my conscience, reaching its tendons out to the figures. Maybe we could get out of this one as long as we acted the right way.
But the moment I could feel them, I realized this was not the case. They were all drunk. Too drunk to listen to reason. Panic started to bubble inside of me. Idiots and lots of sake always mean trouble. Reaching forward even more, I found that there were five of them. Too many to take on at once and completely impossible to run away from. For a moment I was glad I wasn't alone, that Hanataro was still here with me, then immediately regretting the thought. I didn't want him to get hurt. What was I thinking? From behind me, Hanataro shivered slightly. I didn't need to look back to know his silhouette was shaking. Who could blame him? He's been in one too many of these situations before.
We slowed subconsciously as the drunken men neared. None of them had acknowledged us yet. They were too busy chatting about some sort of new rumor spreading around Seirintei.
.
.
.
Time itself seemed to drag on forever as we walked by them. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying that nothing would happen. We were too close.
Almost there… Just a few more steps and we can run away, completely unharmed.. Almost there… Almo..
"Hey kids, what are you two doing here?"
Crap.
--- a while later ---
The five eleventh squad members were transported to the fourth squad barracks, their faces deformed by multiple bruises and cuts.
If the sixth squad lieutenant hadn't shown up when he did, both Hanataro and I could have been extremely injured. Boy, was I lucky that my friend had connections. I wasn't sure if we could trust him when Hanataro first introduced him to me, having a strange feeling he used to be in the eleventh squad. However who knew the short-tempered, kido challenged, Renji was so protective of his friends? I lost all sense of doubt when he was defending us, five against one. I guess it really wasn't fair how I originally acted towards the fuku-taicho, but it wasn't fair that the eleventh squad bullied us either.
I have to admit, Renji is pretty strong, strong enough to be mistaken for a eleventh squad monkey. The five drunken shinigami were rolling around in their beds, moaning from the pain of their injuries.
Despite being a healer, seeing these shinigami hospitalized put a smug grin on my face. They got what they deserved. Now they'd get punished when other members of their squad came to pick them up. Speaking of which, they seemed to already be in the maze of the fourth division's barracks.
A bluish and a light crimson silhouette walked around in the fourth squad's building inching closer and closer towards this room: at least these two weren't completely manner-less, or was it their fear of Unohana-taicho that kept them from destroying every wall in sight? Maybe they were seated officers like Hanataro and I, afraid of doing any drastic actions to hurt their reputation.
I watched as the crimson silhouette passed this door twice before finally noticing it. Then slammed the door open with quite a bit of force. This guy was definitely not from the fourth squad. My grin grew wider with anticipation.
"WHAT THE HELL?!?!"
Much to my pleasure, the five already injured shinigami all sat up startled, then started to sputter and wine drunkenly. Some even started to beg for forgiveness. It made me wonder who the ranked officer was to make them this scared. He must be well known in the eleventh squad.
Tuning out the subsequent screaming, I focused on the other officer that had accompanied this lunatic. The blue silhouette came and sat next to me on the sofa. Calm and collected he commented on the sight like it was an everyday occurrence for him.
"Not such a beautiful scene now is it?" He commented, which I ignored.
"Who is he?" I gestured to the crimson silhouette, whom I could imagine was waving his zanpakuto around threateningly.
The shinigami next to me chuckled softly, "Third seat of the eleventh division, Madarame Ikkaku."
I nodded, working my hardest to burn the name into my memory, in the "Don't EVER mess with" category along with Kenpachi and Byakuya. The thing is, I'm not the best at remembering names. Remembering Hanataro's was a total nightmare. Even now I tend to forget it sometimes.
---
Soon the room emptied almost completely, only Ikkaku and the guy next to me were left, the former having driven out all the others with his threats. That's good; this room is so much better when it's quiet. Yet some feeling was tugging at the back of my brain about the future of the rest of the fourth squad barracks.
"We were supposed to escort them back, not just threaten them with death if they don't return Ikkaku." The voice next to me sounded amused. "Plus, I can't imagine you as the type to run around Seireitei tracking them down. That would be so awfully ugly."
"Nah it doesn't matter, Zaraki won't care if they don't ever return. The cowards weren't even good at fighting." Ikkaku's silhouette twitched, he was somewhat annoyed, reminding me of an animal that didn't catch its prey. Then he turned towards me: another hulk of meat waiting to be devoured.
"Who are you?"
"Amaya Tsukino." My voice was laced with false kindness. My cheeks raised into a small, sweet smile.
"Why are you here?" Goddammit. Why does he want to know?
"Unohana-taicho told me to watch over them until you two came" I leaned my head to one side, folding my hands together politely.
"What division?" What sort of idiot are you that you can't even figure that out?
"Fourth."
He seemed satisfied for a moment, ready to leave, but then something else caught his interest. He cocked his head, examining me.
Oh, what are you going to ask now? Am I a girl? Stupid, stupid, indecisive people, they just can't leave can they?
"Say, why do you have a ribbon over your eyes?"
.
.
.
…Just like back then.
--
The memories of Rukongai returned, the memories of being lost, the hateful voices, the smothering feeling of either arrogance or pity radiating from everyone…
"Excuse me onee-chan, why are you wearing that? Isn't it hard to see if your eyes are covered?" A very young child asked curiously, pointing to the cloth over my eyes. His mother gasped a little, pulling him away.
That one question, one innocent and almost childish, made me admit to the one thing I had always hated to name. A fact that had changed me into a subject of pity no matter where I went. But I wasn't going to show anyone how I felt inside. I pointed my head to where the voice came from. An overused, artificial smile masked my face, the mother relaxed a little.
I acted like I was teasing the boy, "If you had a ribbon over your eyes, it might be very hard for you to see,"
I let out a slightly choked laugh. It was difficult for me to hide the bitterness in my voice.
"But… I was never able to see in the first place."
--
The polite smile on my face disappeared. When I finally spoke, it seemed as if my voice had dropped an octave.
"I'm blind." came my unwavering, unfeeling voice.