Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, or any of the Bleach characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.
Hero, Not Traitor
Fear is an overwhelming thing, watching as it sweeps through the air like a virus, infecting as many as it may reach. He had truly feared that he might die, his body coming to rest in the belly of the beast. What would he be then? Just a remnant, a painful reminder to those he loved, lingering in the wind to make them howl in agony and despair. He hadn't wanted that. Yet, he had been still, unable to move. Just a pair of wide eyes staring up at the creature's bulk as it threatened to consume him.
The head came down upon him, causing him to throw his arms well over his head, wishing that it would ease the pains of death. He had waited, only to hear the guttural roar of the beast as it collapsed, writing in pain and frustration as its body was severed. A deafening sound, the vibrations of its screams sending tremors through the ground beneath his feet. It had been a horrid experience. Almost enough to make him wreck his pants.
When he'd been confronted by his rescuer, he'd only been able to cry.
As a captain of the Court Guards, and a rather brash one at that, the man hadn't been patient enough to wait for the boy's sobs to cease. He'd demanded that the tears stop, and they had. He had looked up at the man, red-eyed and sniffling, suddenly wishing that he could be as in-control as him. It had been a dream for the longest time since that day, one that he hadn't been sure he wanted to reach.
For years, he'd felt pinned, like a struggling bird wishing to fly freely in the skies. He'd wanted something more than the dusty streets of the Rukongai, or the salmon he could catch in the river. He had longed for a kind of meaning, a strength, courage, and determination that he'd seen in those years before.
It had been that very rescue, the one that spared his life, that had urged him to follow that silver thread, the one that so many had told him he'd never be able to catch. Still, he had gone ahead, following the tiny shimmers of light down that darkened path, lunging after that thread until his hands bled and his clothes were stained with dirt.
Finally, he had caught it.
His acceptance into the Court Guard had been early, and a welcome surprise. He had truly believed that he would, once again, meet the man who had given him the desire to throw down his shackles and live. Sadly, upon his assignment to the Ninth Division, he had been distraught to learn that the silver-haired captain had long-since been branded as a traitor, a tool in Kisuke Urahara's malevolent experimentation.
As it was taboo, he hadn't dared to speak of it to anyone, having kept his beliefs to himself. In the night, he would speak to himself within his quarters, when he was sure to be alone. Not once, as he'd decided from the beginning, did he believe a word the others spoke.
The man who had put life back into his hands was anything but a traitor.