Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or it's Characters. Bleach (c) Kubo Tite
Prologue
My life was normal... until the day, I died. Well, my life started out normally. When I was born, it was raining. So my father nicknamed me, "Rakka ame", meaning, "Falling Rain". As much as my parents liked that name, they had to give me a real, official name. They somehow named me, "Hisana". Hi meaning, "princess" and sana that means, "truth". Wheather I lived up to that name, my parents didn't really care. The only name they cared I lived up to was, Kazehana.
Ah yes, the Kazehana name goes back centuries, dabbling in the art of the samurai (loosely), and those fish shape cakes with the red bean paste inside. Girls were taught, sparkingly with handling a katana, but there was a chance I was forced into it. I'm not really sure how it started. I would simply play fight with wooden sticks against my father. Eventually it evolved into the use of real katanas, but that never gave me an advantage. The "Old man" was just too strong. He was just 20 years old when I was born, so not that old
My mother, a calm and mature woman. Though 2 years younger than my father, she was mentally more mature by years. He large, dark blue eyes could enchant anything she gazed upon. Everything about her was haunting. Her beauty, her smile, her voice... My father really worshipped her. He spend a lot of time trying to impress her, even long after they were married. He'd sing, paint her pictures, surprise her with flowers, actually becoming overbaring with his affections, but she would quietly accept all of his offers of his affections.
I wasn't their only child. years after I was born, my parents had another daughter. Rukia, when she was born, birds were singing. "Little Bird", they called her. However, for the sake of giving her a real, official name, they named her, Rukia. Rukia is a genus of bird, I think. That's what they told me. I'm going to go with what my parents claimed.
Things were going very well for the Kazehana clan. Father was strong and well feared by those who attempted to defeat him. There was a mild peace that existed in Kyoto. I had several suitors. Mostly boring men, none of them within 15 years of my age. They were all perverts, that spent most of their time staring at me, wanting to touch my hand. The thought even now sends shivers down my back. Luckily, my father turned them all down. "Hisana isn't old enough." He say over and over.
Soon after I turned 15, a few months after Rukia was born, father let me train at a dojo nearby my home. I was very happy to go outside my home to train. I wanted to become strong, to be respected, like my father was. I was the second strongest at the dojo. Second to the master of the dojo. He looked like a frail old man, but in reality, he was incredibly strong and moved like a monkey. He was actually my father's sensei, and neither my father or I could defeat him.
I think it would be nice, to see my parents at sensei again. I would have liked to live a long life, living in the same house, with children and grandchildren. I never thought or wished to be a shinigami. I held a set of fishbones in my hands, inspecting it for more meat. None. I threw them in the campfire and sighed to myself. We have lost many on ourside. The scent of blood could be smelt everywhere. And cries of pain. It hadn't been that long since this war had started. This war, against the Quincys.