Staying Dry
Oleander-Tea
Legal: I own absolutely nothing here.
Note: This is my first Bleach attempt. (Edit: 7/12, spell-checked.) (Edit: 8/28/2011, revised) (Edit: 9/14/2014, revision ii)
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Kurosaki Ichigo's inner soul wasn't always a primitive picture of M.C. Escher's works. No one knew this better than Zangetsu, who, though he would never admit it, panicked more than Ichigo ever did over its ninety degree shift. At the time, Zangetsu had cleverly hidden in a smaller building as his world twisted and churned, rain clouds conglomerated, and fat, cumbersome drops of water poured outside. The old man had been forced out into the painfully disorienting cityscape after his sanctuary had shattered by some freak accident; from then on, none of the buildings had doors anymore, only indestructible windows of diamond and unbreakable walls of steel.
At first, the rain wasn't so bad, Zangetsu thought. At first, the smell of cold water on metal was enticing and new and Zangetsu didn't mind too much. At first, the change of scenery was interesting and piqued Zangetsu's curiosity, after the initial shock wore off, of course. But after hours, weeks, years of relentless rain, no ferocity nor gentleness in its slow pitter-patter spray upon the cityscape, Zangetsu grew to despise the audacity of whatever caused Ichigo's sudden change in nature. Though the rain never solidified into hail or snow, he was sure that he was subjected to subzero temperatures, his breath frosty and light in the misty air. And as much as he poked, prodded, pounded at Ichigo's mind to toughen up and get the hell over it, Ichigo never so much as felt a tickle of Zangetsu's desperately angry pleas.
So Zangetsu learned to sleep.
It was tough to sleep; Zanpakutou do not require sleep. They required training, activity, and a relationship with the person whose soul they inhabited. But Zangetsu forced himself to close his eyes, his body, his mind to the barrage of constant water droplets and the cruel insensible cold, curling up on the side of a building wrapped up in the black flames of his robes, and he slept, restlessly. Often tossing and turning, he woke frequently in fervent irritation, but the broken bouts of unconsciousness would be as much asylum as Zangetsu could ever take in within Ichigo's statically erratic state of mind.
Ichigo was stuck in a rut, and Zangetsu was the only one who could help. He was, after all, the only one who even knew that Ichigo was stuck in a rut. However, the old sword continued in his uneasy sleep, having despaired in Ichigo's strength to move forward. Humans are made of soft, destructible flesh, and they are feeble and callow, Zangetsu would think bitterly. Humans should not punish their souls as such.
But sometimes when he dreamt, Zangetsu would hear whispers. Ichigo will come through. Ichigo is strong.
He ignored these words; he had to. There would be no other way for him to be in this insufferable rain. Ichigo had changed, and Zangetsu needed to adapt.
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The old soul slayer awoke one day, more uneasily than normal. He knew there was something wrong before his eyelids ascended open. The liquid droplets drumming on his skin were warm.
Zangetsu's blinked. Instead of the foggy gray torrent of liquid water that has now become his home, a hazy white sheen enveloped the buildings and danced around him.
The sky was blue.
Alright, Ichigo, you've got my attention now. What do you have to show me?
Zangetsu lifted his aching body off of the only surface not covered in snow. As he picked up one foot to move, he noted the feeling of unease still tickled the hairs on the back of his neck. Zangetsu turned around, drew a sharp intake of breath, fell a half step backward, and furrowed his eyebrows. He had never seen a human before, but he was fairly certain in his endless existence as a soul slayer, he knew what one looked like. It came naturally to his mind, as certainly as he knew his name.
While the life form in front of him seemed to be a scowling (beautiful) woman, Zangetsu knew that women, scowling or not, did not possess triangular ears at the top of their heads, nine fluffy fox tails billowing magnificently behind them, and eyes so amber they glowed.
And were those...miniature fangs?
No, this was no human. This was...
"Where is Rukia?" she demanded icily.
Zangetsu knew that her mouth had moved, but the sound he heard had echoed in his mind, neglecting the hassle of reaching his brain through his eardrums. What a waste of a perfectly good sensory organ.
"Where did the rain go?" was his reply.
It took one week for the two soul slayers to break down the barriers protecting themselves from the elements. Learning Shirayuki's name was the prize of telling her his first. They worked together, for a little while, when Ichigo needed power but was too ignorant to ask, and congruently, they uncovered the intricacies of companionship. Zangetsu discovered that while she possessed a freezing, feral, fearless kind of beauty that was a projection of her very core, she also emanated a sense of strength and stability that could have only come from years and years of pain. With Sode no Shirayuki, there would be no hiding in fear, no squeezing in between crevices, no hesitancy; with Sode no Shirayuki, if one didn't like rain, one made it snow instead.
Too bad Zangetsu never learned that trick from his accomplice, because one day, they day that he was sure Ichigo was going to pummel him into submission, Shirayuki disappeared in a wide-eyed "Oh!" and what seemed to be a flurry of pink cherry blossoms. He had wanted to grab her fine, delicate wrists with his calloused fingers, but he hesitated too long and couldn't reach her in time.
Shirayuki couldn't be touched by just anyone.
The instant she was gone, Zangetsu's eyebrows depressed together into a frown as he realized that the downpour of warm, delicate snowflakes had resumed, once again, into liquid droplets of icy dreariness. With a resigned sigh, he burrowed into the snow piled on the buildings before they melted and washed away his hope. This time though, Zangetsu would learn to be like Shirayuki, authoritative and vigilent, patient and serene.
When Ichigo finally heard Zangetsu's name, the old soul slayer did not tell him that this world was once inhabited by two; his longing for Shirayuki was matched pain for pain in the young boy's desperate eyes.
end