A/N: Okay guys, I got inspiration for this story while listening to this song that I LOVE. It's called Broken by Sonata Arctica. I suggest you go to youtube, and listen to it and look at the lyrics before you read this, it makes a lot more sense. That song influenced the story here. It's IchiRuki, with slight GrimmNel and other pairings, but it is NOT a smut fic. It's an adventure/tragedy fic.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, I wanted to try something different here. I'm already on chapter three of this and I'll be updating everything else shortly. ^^

All references to the lyrics of the song are © to Sonata Arctica

Do you really know me?

I might be a God;

Show me that you care and have a cry,

How do you see me?

As the one;

Can you see my blood when I'm bleeding?

Broken - Sonata Arctica.

Disclaimer- I don't own Bleach characters, but some of my OC's will be featured.

Seven Lives- Prologue.

Imagination. It's such a strange thing. It can take one to the far reaches of the universe, to the bottom of the sea, to the top of the world's highest mountain with just one mere thought. When one imagines, the brain develops this imagination subconsciously, which gives the person ideas to go on, something to live by. But some things cannot be merely imagined. Some things cause emotions which the brain cannot imagine, which block the brain's ability to imagine something. The brain cannot comprehend these emotions as it does not understand the situation without ever having been in it, so the brain puts a mental block stopping the person from imagining these emotions. These emotions can only be experienced if the person is reliving a memory. Such as pain. Imagining a situation where one is caused severe physical or emotional pain is impossible to comprehend if the person is merely imagining. Or grieving. Unless the person has experienced great loss in their life, one cannot comprehend the emotional trauma felt through the power of imagination. But imagination can make people understand certain positive emotions. If someone describes an event in which they are happy in to someone else, the other person can slightly understand their emotion, as the brain understands an emotion such as happiness.

Some people take for granted the power of imagination, because every idea in history has evolved in someone's brain to develop into something successful, or chaotic. Every event in history has come from one person's idea of something like that being able to happen. Wars, technology, science, education, everything has evolved from one person's idea. Once an idea is planted into the mind, it subconsciously lingers for the person's lifetime, reconstructing itself and evolving into something magnificent. These ideas can be designs, culture, religion, anything in which a person allows it to be. Sometimes the power of imagination is overlooked, and therefore discarded.

Imagination can tell stories. Such as this one. Many people of young and old gather to listen to stories told by anyone willing to tell. Be them religious ranting, or stories of cliché princes rescuing the damsel in distress and living together in some castle where they can live 'happily ever after'. Well, this is a story. Depending on whether you like happy endings or not, it is your choice to continue reading.

When asked to imagine something, each and every person has a different viewpoint and aspect of the situation. They may experience something slightly different, such as a person's height or how they stand. Or it can go to extreme differences such as the environment around them, or the way a person behaves. All of this is down to personality. Be you creative, outspoken, thoughtful, selfish, unemotional: you will all have different views on how you picture a story.

But imagine this: You. You have lived for seven lifetimes. You stand, on the very edge of existence overlooking the chaos of the world. It's almost as if time is standing still for you while the world carries on and evolves around you. You cannot escape. In front of you, you see a barrier. This is of course, a metaphoric barrier, but it still serves the same purpose as a physical barrier. This barrier is not opaque, but can blur your vision if tampered with. You can see the lives of everyone around you, carrying on as if you do not exist. But of course, you do. Unfortunately.

You poke it. It merely ripples. You poke it again and it ripples once more. Only one ripple appears and carries on with each poke, how many times you poke it is down to you. These ripples carry on and on and on all the way to the end of the barrier. But there is no end. These ripples, are shockwaves. Consequences of you attempting to escape the barrier. These consequences are put there to stop you from scratching the wall, preventing you from escaping your fate. This is a mental barrier in your mind which is stopping you from letting something out, or in. That which, you do not know.

Can you still picture that image? Let's continue.

You do not age. You stay the same in looks and health forever. All these seven lifetimes, this invisible barrier that constantly surrounds you wherever you go stops you from dying. You have tried to kill yourself in every way imaginable. You've locked yourself in a room and set it alight, you've tied yourself to weights and thrown yourself in a river. You have shot yourself in the head, the heart, every fatal place that should kill someone. You have overdosed on drugs, sat on train tracks and got yourself run over. You have hired someone to torture you, an assassin, to cause you as much pain as possible and then kill you. You have let yourself get beaten, drugged and slung to die. You have drank to your hearts content hoping for liver failure. Only you feel no pain. You have even sliced your body from jugular to navel, and taken out your own organs, literally turning yourself inside out. When you did this, you stood there, looking at your bowels in their colourful mess on a table in front of you, the blood oozing from your wound and the cuts you have slashed into your organs. And you cry. Nothing works. Yes, you pass out from all these attempts, but you merely wake up the next morning with nothing but a scar on your body. Whether or not this is the area where pain was inflicted, a scar appears, like a tally chart on your body to count how many times you have failed. You've lost count. This is the curse, of immortality.

Of course, you do not know where you got this immortality, nor do you want it. At first, it seemed like the best thing imaginable. You could get into bar fights and get stabbed and feel no pain. You could never grow ill or injure yourself. But as everyone around you aged, they died. This immortality was granted to you by a higher power as a punishment for actions you do not know.

Can you still imagine this?

Let us carry on then.

Your family. Well, used to be. Your family died during your first lifetime. You had to bury your family and mourn their loss for another six lifetimes and more to come. Your father, your sisters, buried next to your already dearly departed mother who's death you tried to avenge too many times to count. You was so close to finding her killer, yet the slippery bastard managed to evade you once more. You can't rest until he's dead, but unfortunately you'll never rest. It's not nice standing and watching your loved ones die.

If you're still imagining this, just keep in mind the barrier.

As well as your family, but your lovers. Buried in a different plot, seven graves, one for every love you've had. None of these had broken your heart, for you have forgotten what one is, apart from one who took you by surprise. This makes you feel inhuman, like your very existence is a mockery and the so-called God's are laughing at your demise, punishing you for this, for a crime you do not remember committing.

You try to figure out your crime. Was it the family you almost killed in order to protect your own family? Was it the woman you lusted for when your wife was at home, awaiting her almighty husband's return? Did you not attend your religious meetings enough, or slack in work? For all you know, your crime was being born.

You do not feel hunger. Nor do you get tired, or ill. You do not feel any human bodily function. You can't even remember the last time you ate. You have no need to.

Bitterness. Bitterness is the only emotion you feel right now. You cannot feel anything else, for your so-called heart does not allow you to do so. Emotion is overrated, and all you want to do is kill the evil twisted son-of-a-bitch who cursed you with this. You cannot kill him. As much as you don't feel it, you are merely human.

Still imagining?

When you do attempt to die, Heaven will not take you, Hell's sold out, you walk on earth waiting to find new lives to ruin, attempting to fill the hollowness inside as you linger here and there, passing through towns in order to gain Intel and satisfy your revenge. Your revenge you ask? Your revenge is to brutally murder the sick- twisted sadistic bastard who plagued you with this. You did no wrong, did you?

However, when you do not touch the barrier, those around you do not suffer. For one lifetime, your most recent one, you only touched the barrier once. That resulted in the death of the only person you ever truly felt anything for. You don't want that barrier, but it's always there.

I think the lesson here is: don't poke that goddamn barrier.

Of course, this is all metaphorically speaking. Everyone will have a different image of this story, which is all done through a power we all share. Some more than others will gain a more vivid image, it all depends on personality. But through this, everyone is unique.

Now, I'm sure you're all wondering why this is being spouted at you. That image you just gave yourself is a story. A vague one, yes. But still a story in itself. Life in itself, is short. But when repeated over and over it gets tiresome, and people lose their emotions. Just like the subject of this story.

I know what you're thinking. 'What poor soul would that have to happen to?' 'What a bunch of crap, it's all shit.' Well, this is nothing to do with you. This is just a story re-told through the ages of the man who could not die. The man who was cursed and forced to wander earth finding 'love' and being forced to stand and watch the ones he wanted to protect, die. The story of his seven lives, and who knows? He could still be alive right now.

The only thing remembered of this man, was his bright orange hair, and amber eyes.

You can stop imagining now.

~oOoOoOo~

Well guys, that's it. The prologue for this story. Those of you who know the song, you'll have been able to pick out the lyric references. XD

Now, the rest of the story won't be written in this narrative. I just wanted to try something different, and I know it's short, but it's hard to ramble about this without saying the entire story :C

Anyway, REVIEW AND SUBSCRIBE.

NO FLAMES D8

~Kazan.

Oh yeah, if anyone wants any updates on 'Stolen', I'll be updating that by about… Thursday if I remember.