Her dark orbs glared at the screen in front of her. Her fingers twitched as an impulse to press her nimble fingers on the keys and begin to form a thought. Nothing. In one whole week, nothing had bothered hitting her in the noggin and telling her to write something amazing. She was stuck. It felt as if someone had taken a large building and placed in on her shoulders before telling her to stand there and wait for something. She combed a hand through her long onyx hair. Oh, how she wished that something would come to her. Something amazing, something to give the audience a good thrill.

The writer, for once, had nothing to write.

Her teeth, being slightly crooked, began to grind. It wasn't much of a habit, but when frustrated enough, she would do so. Her hands, every now and then, would fidget, looking for a notebook and pencil so they could write a genius idea down. Something to look at later and think along the lines of the plot. But, no. In one week not much had come to her mind, and this inevitably frustrated her. She wasn't one for procrastinating. Or perhaps she was when it came to other things such as homework, life, and other boring assignments that she couldn't be bothered to complete.

Everything in her head drew a blank. Summer, though nice and refreshing as a break from school, would also delay her genius. And she hated it. She had heard the saying that 'you can't rush genius' before on a television show that was at the moment on a sort of hiatus. If there was something she could watch, anything interesting at all, she'd gladly welcome it. Maybe she'd volunteer to watch a murder mystery movie or something that would get the cogs in her head to spin and clear the cobwebs and rust that had settled in her mind. Her fingers lightly tapped a single key on the keyboard, and with that struck a single clicking sound.

Still nothing.

At the moment, the protagonist of this story, or dare I say introduction, was sitting at 'home'. By home, it really meant that she was on vacation, looking at nothing per say...interesting. For a preteen, she wasn't very social as her personality might've portrayed, and therefore could not write a diary, blog, or even base a story off of events that had recently occurred in her ever-so mundane life. If anything, she really wanted something to thrill her, something to spark a flame of inspiration, anything. But, no. Being the writer she was, she had come to terms that as much as she wished, nothing she fantasized about would ever come true.

Even as she walked around her mother's house that was unbearably empty during the day, she was generally a lazy person. Despite her writing, anything else that she did was in a slow, painstaking manner. Her ideas and fantasies she wrote would never really happen, because...well, there was a problem in the sentence. She didn't know why not. And that was what she needed to know. She wished for adventure, thrill, or even romance in her life! Something to take away her boredom; something that she had read that would come true.

And this, dear readers...is where she took in the account of one Kenzaki Ryusei. A character of minimal ideas. He was ruggedly handsome, was caring at best. In the plots of the show, nothing progressively dangerous had exactly happened to him. Nothing too interesting. Just like herself. So, this is where she managed to spark something that would end up as something that you are reading.

Yes, dear readers; you are reading the outcome of her boredom. Something that only the most unfortunate character of her story would have to endure. You are reading something that came from a week of writer's block. A creation of sorts, I as the narrator might say.

Though if you are wondering why is the narrator the writer? Then, I cannot answer that. Though as fun and entertaining as if would be to come up with a plausible answer, we have a story to read. So, sit back, and enjoy the show as some might say.


The guardian's limbs ached, and his head felt as if someone had taken a sledgehammer and slammed his head onto a wall with it. His stunning aqua eyes opened to reveal to him that he was in a room that was a stark white. Everything around him was silent, had he not taken in the account of a faint beeping. Where was he? The guardian questioned. Didn't he just die in front of Lady Lurichiyo? He shook his head. No. He didn't just die in front of her, he protected her from harm. That sounded better than the alternative.

Maybe he was wrong. For now, he needed to gather information. Kenryu stood up, finding that he was clothed in a hospital gown, and had nothing underneath. He blushed and sat back down in the rock-hard bed. As uncomfortable as it might have been for him, he would rather that than standing up and...revealing some...important parts. The door slid open, and a woman with silver hair that was braided in an odd sort of fashion.

"Hello, Kenryu. How are you feeling?" The woman asked. From the looks of it, she was his doctor. Though a bit mousy looking.

"I-I'm fine, doctor." He stuttered out. His throat was parched, as if he hadn't spoken in a very long time. "Where a-am I?" She looked genuinely surprised.

"You don't know where you are? This is your home town, Kenryu. It's Karakura." What? Karakura? Wasn't he born in...?

"N-Nani? Where's Lurichiyo-sama and Enryu?" The woman tilted her head sideways in a confused manner.

"Who's Lurichyo and Enryu? Are they your friends?" She asked. How does she not know who the princess of the Kasumi-Ooji family? She was practically famous in the whole of Soul Society. Then again, he was in the living world now, no way could anyone know who she was. Though, their behavior might imply.

"They are not my friends," He paused. "They are my brother and sister." What he said was undeniably true. Though not by blood, by bond. And though bond was simply a word, you had to experience near-death experiences to understand how their relationship worked.

"Really? It doesn't list you having any siblings on your medical sheet." The woman said, brushing her stray hair aside.

"No, not by blood." Kenryu found himself stating his thoughts. "By bond." This confusion was getting tiresome. Where was Ichigo when you needed him? That'd be a better question to answer.

"I'll say," She cracked a smile. A small one, but a smile nonetheless. "They were worried sick about you."

"...What exactly happened to me?" If in this place, he still knew Lurichiyo, then he must know others such as Ichigo, Rukia-dono, etc. At the question, the doctor's eyes cast downwards.

"I am not obliged to say..." The woman said.

"Why not? Aren't you my doctor? I need to know." This was getting troublesome.

"I am not your doctor. Dr. Unohana is your prescribed doctor." She said.

"Then, will you at least tell me what happened?"

"I cannot. I am not obliged to unless Unohaha-sensei is present."

"I will ask one more time. Will you please clear up some of this misunderstanding?"

"I'm sorry. I-I can't." She was nervous now. This was all part of an act right? Why couldn't she tell him? It's not like the information would kill her, right? He hoped so.

"Tell me!" He wasn't shouting, but his voice had risen considerably. "Where is Lurichiyo?" His hands were clutched into fists at his sides.

"You've just woken up from a coma that you had been in for three years." She whispered. Quietly, but loud enough for his ears to hear.

...What...?