Thank you: Antex-The Legendary Zoroark, Ctornello, T, Guest (A/N: please name yourself, I feel stupid saying it like this), and Darke13
A/N: Darke13, Thank you for correcting me, using honorifics correctly is very important to me, as I'd rather not slaughter the Japanese language. I really appreciate it, it's people like you that keep stories like this moving (especially when authors have writer's block). Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach
Shadow Ataraxia
Chapter Six
Nepenthe
'Nothing is predestined. The obstacles of your past can become the gateways that lead to new beginnings.'- Ralph H. Blum
Tatsuki opened her eyes.
A white ceiling stared back at her.
Tatsuki closed her eyes.
'Nope. Not getting up.'
"Tatsuki-chan! It's time to get up! Your Kaa-san made breakfast already!" A male voice said cheerfully.
"I'm sleeping, go away," Tatsuki replied grumpily, shifting to face away from her mother's boyfriend.
"Tatsuki-chan, you're not asleep, silly! C'mon, or I'll eat all the natto!" He shook Tatsuki's shoulder in a very sudden yet relatively gentle way. Tatsuki moaned, wanting to sleep more, but opened her eyes.
Taiki Tsukino stared back down at her, bright hazel eyes alight with a childish fervor that only he could manage. Taiki grinned widely down at his girlfriend's daughter, but Tatsuki just glared foul-temperedly back.
"I'm getting up, you don't need to clutch my shoulder like that."
Taiki let go of her shoulder and Tatsuki stood up, stretching. Taiki practically bounced out of the room and Tatsuki followed, rubbing at her eyes.
Downstairs, her mother was placing down many plates of natto, nori and rice, enough to feed an army and then some. Taiki swept over to her mother, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and began ravaging the food. Tatsuki rolled her eyes and sat down at the table, grabbing some rice and the meager portion of miso soup. Unlike what Taiki implied, she hated natto, it was disgusting.
"Tatsuki," Her mother, Noriko, said. Tatsuki regarded her mother with rice stuffed in her mouth.
"Hm?"
"Are you staying late at the dojo tonight?" Noriko asked, her face smiling though her blue eyes were flat.
Tatsuki held back from rolling her eyes. She stayed late every school night, and yet her mother had to ask her again and again if she was doing it again. She knew why. It was her mother's misguided attempt at making her cut back on karate. Not only was Noriko Arisawa a lawyer who wasn't fond of violence, her mother didn't want karate to be Tatsuki's coping skill. Too bad, it was too late to change that.
Taiki, somewhere along the line, had been told of Tatsuki's 'unhealthy' love of karate and… other things, and had taken it upon himself to escort her back home after her lessons. Tatsuki had tried in vain to convince him that she was thirteen now and could perfectly well walk home herself, but he was hearing none of it.
Sometimes, she really didn't like Taiki, no matter how well-meaning his concerns were.
Swallowing the last of her miso soup, Tatsuki went back to her room and changed into her uniform, before leaving her house, dodging Taiki's enthusiastic hug. That guy was too touchy-feely.
Tatsuki walked down the streets of Karakura, but when she should've made a turn left to go to school, she turned right, heading toward the apartment building by a mall. Tatsuki smiled to herself as she walked up the stairs and to a certain door, then knocked three times.
This was her nineteenth morning here, and Tatsuki couldn't help but feel happy.
"I'm coming!" Came a voice from the other side, followed by the sound of a plate being smashed against the floor. Tatsuki grinned, shaking her head.
The door was flung open a few moments later by a very excited-looking girl with jaw-length persimmon hair and blue hair-clips on each side of her head. The girl's pretty grey eyes positively sparkled and she smiled happily.
"Ohayou gozaimasu, Tatsuki-chan!" Orihime Inoue greeted, before ducking back inside to grab her backpack.
"You too, Orihime," Tatsuki said, "Are you okay? I heard something break."
"Oh no, I'm fine, I'm fine!" Orihime assured rapidly, waving her hands, "I- I was just so excited that you were coming and I was thinking about how we could go and find some sumo wrestlers to battle and I forgot to use my hands!"
Tatsuki ignored the part about the sumo wrestlers, she had learned quickly that Orihime was an odd one, "Good to know you're okay. Ready to go?"
"Yep!" Orihime joined Tatsuki outside, locked her apartment door, and the two of them set off for school.
Tatsuki had only met Orihime less than a month ago, and yet Tatsuki felt like she knew her new friend well. Orihime had told her about her brother Sora and how he had raised her before dying in an accident a year ago. Orihime told Tatsuki about how she didn't know exactly what she wanted to do when she was older, but that she wanted to help others as much as she could. Tatsuki learned about the odd foods Orihime loved (red bean paste and sweet potatoes? Gross.) and how she loved comedies and Asian flower print clothing. Tatsuki also learned that she loved Orihime like a sister.
Orihime in turn learned about Tatsuki's love of karate and her own love for chile con queso, and about her favorite music and her mother's boyfriend. They both learned a lot about one another.
But today, Tatsuki may tell Orihime more, about what happened four years ago. Maybe.
"So, Orihime, are you doing anything after school?" Tatsuki inquired, just as Orihime finished her monologue about how cool it would be to fly a plane. Orihime tilted her head.
"Um, no. But, Tatsuki-chan, don't you usually go to the dojo after school?" Orihime asked confusedly.
"Yeah, but I wanted you to meet a few of my friends after school," Tatsuki said easily, "I can miss a day of karate."
"Wow… I get to meet your other friends?!" Orihime asked, eyes glittering with enthusiasm, "Who are they, what are they like?"
Tatsuki shook her head, "You'll see."
Orihime practically buzzed with nervous anticipation as she followed her closest friend, Tatsuki. She was going to meet Tatsuki-chan's friends! Would they like her? What if they didn't? Would Tatsuki be mad at her if they didn't like her? Oh, what if she messed up?! She didn't want to lose her new friend! What would Onii-chan say?
'Be yourself and don't regret it', that's what he would say. But what if being herself wasn't good enough?
Orihime jumped from one foot to the other, not seeing how Tatsuki was smiling fondly at her. They had just got out of school and began walking to Tatsuki's friends' home, which was in the nicer part of Karakura, rather far from Orihime's own apartment. Tatsuki wouldn't say much about her illusive friends, just that she'd known them a long time and they were younger than them.
After fifteen minutes of walking, Tatsuki stopped and said, "Here we are. Welcome to the Kurosaki Clinic."
Orihime froze. The persimmon-haired girl stared at the sign displaying such, then down the street and back again.
"NO! Onii-chan, please don't leave me alone!"
This was where her brother died.
Orihime felt tears welling in her eyes, but couldn't take her eyes off the sign. she could never forget that sign, never forget that name. Kurosaki: A name forever associated with death.
"Orihime? Are you okay?" Tatsuki questioned, worry in her voice. Her blue eyes gazed softly into Orihime's tearful grey ones, and she cried.
"I-I'm sorry, Ta-Tatsuki-chan…" Orihime stuttered, wiping away tears, "It's just that… this is where Onii-chan died."
Tatsuki balked, then hugged Orihime tightly.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't know," Tatsuki apologized sadly, stroking Orihime's head.
"It's okay, Tatsuki-chan," Orihime said as she pulled herself together, "I'm okay. Let's go meet your friends."
Tatsuki nodded, then rung the doorbell of the Kurosaki Clinic.
"Coming!" a woman's voice came from inside. The door opened a few seconds later and Orihime couldn't help but gasp. The woman that answered the door was incredibly beautiful, with wavy golden hair and warm honey eyes. Her face, though lined with stress, was soft.
"Hello, Tatsuki-chan," the woman greeted in a voice as soft as her features, "And you must be Orihime-chan?"
"Yes, I'm Orihime Inoue!" Orihime squeaked, bowing respectfully.
"It's nice to meet you, Orihime-chan," the woman smiled kindly, "I'm Masaki Kurosaki, my husband and I run this clinic. Are you both here to see Karin and Yuzu?"
"Yep," Tatsuki said, and Masaki lead them inside.
Orihime followed Tatsuki quietly, taking in the inside of the clinic. It seemed that one part of the house was a medical ward and the other half was the actual house, Orihime had never seen anything like it before. Masaki lead them through the clinical area (so many medical beds!) and into their homely living room, with a television, sofa and a table with five chairs. There were pictures adorning the walls of twin girls, one blond, the other black-haired. There were pictures of them smiling and playing on the beach, their school photos, the blond girl at a carnival, the dark-haired girl at a baseball game with Tatsuki and one picture of the twins making a block castle with turrets and a cylindrical piece hung by string. There were also a few pictures of a boy with brilliant orange hair and a large smile. Orihime couldn't help but grin back at a picture of the boy at a dojo with Tatsuki.
"Tatsuki-chan!" the blond girl from the pictures barreled into Tatsuki, who had to keep from falling backwards.
"Jeez, Yuzu-chan, calm down!" Tatsuki laughed, ruffling the girl's light hair.
"Hi Tatsuki," the black-haired girl sauntered up to the other girls, her brown eyes amused.
The blond girl let go of Tatsuki and turned to Orihime, who froze when the younger girl's cheerful gaze met hers.
"Hi! I'm Yuzu Kurosaki, may I ask what your name is?" Yuzu asked politely, smiling shyly.
"Uh… I'm Orihime Inoue," Orihime introduced herself, shuffling her feet a bit, "I'm a friend of Tatsuki-chan's."
"Oh yeah, Tatsuki told us about you," the other twin said, "I'm Karin, Yuzu's twin sister. You staying for dinner?"
"Um…"
"Yeah, she is," Tatsuki nodded, giving Orihime a wink.
"I love your hair-pins!" Yuzu complimented, leaning a bit closer to look at them, "They're so pretty!"
"Thank you," Orihime said shyly, "Onii-chan gave them to me."
Both girls stopped moving, their identical brown eyes widening. Karin flinched and looked away, crossing her arms. Yuzu bit her lip and rubbed at her eyes.
Orihime frowned concernedly. What did she say wrong? She looked to Tatsuki for help, but felt fearful when Tatsuki was also looking away from her.
"Did… did I say something wrong?" Orihime inquired anxiously.
"No, its okay Orihime. Let's go eat," Tatsuki grabbed her hand and lead her to the dinner table, where Masaki was setting down soba and yakiniku. A black-haired man, who Orihime assumed to be their father, walked in and set down six small bowls of rice.
The twins followed their two guests to the table, followed by their parents. Their father - introduced as Isshin Kurosaki - had to go to the medical ward and grab another chair for Orihime because they only had five seats. Once they were seated, they proceeded to have dinner.
Orihime had never had a meal quite like the one she had with the Kurosakis. The dinners she knew were the ones she had when her brother came home from work, exhausted and carrying a bag of groceries. For the past year her dinners were solitary, eaten across from the shrine she put together for Sora.
But dinner with the Kurosakis was so very different. Topics seemed to change at the speed of lightning, one moment it was school, then it was Tatsuki's meeting with Orihime, then it was Isshin's newest patient, then it was Karin's soccer practice, then it was the new recipe Yuzu had learned from Masaki. Orihime learned very quickly that Masaki was the soft-spoken one of the family. The twins' mother was one of the kindest people Orihime had ever met, but she rarely talked. Karin and her father were the loud and confident ones. Yuzu was the chatty and excitable one, usually dominating the conversation. Tatsuki, Orihime was amazed to see, fit into their conversation like a perfectly shaped puzzle piece. But, Orihime did sense something weird.
There was an underlying sadness, one she didn't fully understand. Orihime didn't know why they seemed to avoid certain topics, like Tatsuki's karate lessons, but it was obvious to anyone who really listened. The Kurosaki family was avoiding something, something that was beginning to fester.
But Orihime didn't comment on it. She watched as their beautiful little family of four weaved through conversation, Tatsuki sending her looks saying, 'See? Aren't they great?' Orihime agreed. She was upset when it was time to go back home, but the twins made it better when they asked her to come over again so they could play. Masaki smiled warmly at her and Isshin assured her that she was always welcome at the Kurosaki Clinic. Orihime was walked home by Tatsuki and went to bed, not doing any homework because it was a Friday.
Orihime stared up at the dark ceiling, when something occurred to her. She never saw the little grinning boy from the pictures. Who was he? He looked like he was a family member, but he wasn't there and the Kurosakis made no mention of him. Orihime wondered why, but she didn't dwell on it. It was probably nothing anyway, maybe he was a cousin or something.
Orihime fell asleep and woke up again and lived her life. She didn't think about that little orange-haired boy, even when she returned to the Kurosaki Clinic.
Orihime lived her life in blissful ignorance, unaware of the future, and the role that boy would play in its making.
Ashido Kanō was not, by any stretch of the word, foolish. Yes, he did have some trust issues and may be a bit unhinged, but he was not stupid. He of all people knew better than to hesitate when killing a Hollow, for a Shinigami's job is to purify the dark creatures and protect the afterlife. It was a rather straight-forward profession, it wasn't hard to believe Hollows were inherently evil and be done with it.
He was not vacuous, and yet here he was, second guessing himself, again.
The carmine-haired man crouched atop one of the lowest hanging branches in the Menos Forest, breathing hard as he fought to regain strength before retreating from the endless battles below him. His grey eyes watched the Menos Grande tearing at one another, his face still covered by his precious bull mask. His hand was pressed to his stomach, where a deep wound from an earlier battle still bled freely.
He had been sitting here for a while, simply watching the Hollows.
When Ashido was a newly-dead recruit at the Shin'ō Academy, he had been terrified at the very idea of Hollows. Mindless beasts with incredible power and a taste for souls? Yeah, he wanted nothing to do with those. And yet he agreed to become a Shinigami and fight those monsters, because his friends had wanted him to join them. The four people he was closest to in the world had asked him to follow them to freedom, and who was he to refuse their happiness? He had lived and fought with them for a long time in the Rukongai, defending each other and fighting to live another day. What kind of friend would he be if he discouraged their dreams?
You shouldn't have let them go. You should have been stronger.
At the academy, the teachers had raved about how dangerous and threatening Hollows were, how they would eat them alive or kill them in a gruesome way if they were to lose. Hollows were evil, Hollows had no hearts, Hollows did not feel anything but hunger. They were savage monsters, they must be put down quickly. Of course, with the way everyone seemed scared of them, Ashido had believed them without thought.
Eventually, after many years of listening to the teachers' tales and the foreboding in Ashido increasing to new levels, the five of them had finally graduated from the academy, ready to face the world with their unnamed zanpakutō and fiery determination. All five of them had agreed to join the Thirteenth Division, all of them unseated Shinigami and most of them wanting to please their captain, Jūshirō Ukitake, and become seated officers. Ashido didn't really care much for being in the limelight, he honestly got a bad feeling about being a Shinigami, but he desired to make his friends happy.
You idiot. You should have followed your instincts.
Everything was okay for a while. Ashido got some training from the Lieutenant, Kaien Shiba, and started to gain hope that he may one day achieve Shikai. One of his other friends was close, and another was already the fifteenth seat of their division, something he bragged about to no end. Ashido, along with the three others, would smile and shake their head at their friend's bloated ego. He was a good guy, but he was a bit of a show-off.
Things were going great until their particularly trigger-happy seventh seat, Kisi-something, had lead them through a Garganta.
You should have saved them
Ashido glared down at a Menos Grande that had recently won a fight with another of its kind, and was now devouring the previous one's remains.
Hollows had killed all his friends, Hollows had destroyed any chance Ashido had of living peacefully. They were horrible and blood-thirsty, selfish and were innately evil… weren't they?
Ashido growled at his thoughts, digging his hand not holding his stomach together into the tree. Hollows were the enemy, so why was he hesitating? They were thoughtless, disgusting creatures with no sense of self… but why...
'Still in mid-air, the small Hollow turned to watch the Shinigami with its eerie golden eyes. The Shinigami, sword pointed downwards as the Menos Grande began to fade into blue reishi, turned to look at the small Hollow, grey eyes sharp. Grey and gold met and the Hollow slowly tilted its head in a hauntingly child-like gesture. The Shinigami's eyes widened.'
Why was that Hollow different? It never even attempted to hurt Ashido, just dodging and later on helping him. Why would the Hollow do such a thing?
Ashido could hazard a guess that the Hollow had been a child before death, something that involuntarily choked his heart. It wasn't fair for someone so young to die and become a monster, but that didn't change the fact the child was now a Hollow and needed to be killed.
So why didn't Ashido kill it? A monster is a monster, no matter how young. But… what defined a monster? Was it truly a monster if it had no desire to kill ones that didn't threaten it, outright refusing to hurt one that wasn't a monster, no matter the threat? Was that child really a creature of evil and darkness if it had only desired to help him?
A monster is a monster, but is the monster truly a monster? Is the world truly so black and white, or could there be shades of grey? Ashido didn't know, but he had learned a lesson many, many years ago. Trust your instincts.
That Hollow - no - that child deserved the benefit of the doubt. That conclusion went against everything he'd ever learned, but he couldn't deny it any longer.
He couldn't deny it like he had for years now.
In Hueco Mundo, it was truly impossible to tell time, considering the desert was in a state of perpetual night and the Menos Forest had no sky. Thanks to this, Ashido had to clue how long he had been slaying Hollows, if it had been some years or if it had been centuries. He didn't think he would ever know, considering he wasn't planning to leave this thrice-damned forest, he was determined to kill as many Hollows as possible until he could no more.
He didn't have a firm grasp on time, but he knew it had been over a year since he had first met the small orange-maned Hollow. Throughout his time in the forest Ashido had seen the little child multiple times, sometimes fighting a Menos Grande or Adjuchas, sometimes just flash-stepping through the trees. Every time the Hollow had either simply watched Ashido with its head cocked in that childlike way or assisted him in killing the Hollows. Ashido had always found it incredibly odd that the little thing had never once protested when Ashido purified a Hollow before it could be eaten, or that the child never once failed to stay with him until he threatened its life. No self-preservation instincts, that one.
Ashido had once come far too close to killing the tiny Hollow. Once, after a grueling battle with an Adjuchas, the Shinigami had grown frustrated with the orange-maned Hollow's refusal to leave and had lashed out with his zanpakutō. The sword had come perilously close to beheading the small child, actually slashing right through its Hierro and making blood fly. Ashido, much later, would be mind-numbingly ashamed when he realized the reason he had come so close to killing it was because the child had trusted him, no matter how foolish that was.
The Hollow had screeched, before meeting Ashido's eyes with those eerie gold on black ones. It watched him for a moment, before using a weak sonido to get away.
Ashido couldn't remember ever feeling more penitent, which was an odd feeling to feel toward a Hollow.
He didn't understand why the Hollow continued to return after that, and he likely never would. And yet, quite often the child would find him again, fighting with him, before staying behind to stare at him before being shooed away again. The being trusted him. Why? Ashido had no idea.
But worry had started to gnaw at him. Ashido hadn't seen the little orange-maned thing for a long time. The frequent run-ins suddenly decreased to nothing. He traitorously hoped that the small Hollow wasn't dead, though the idea seemed more and more possible with each passing moment. Ashido didn't know why it disappeared without warning, but kept an eye out for bright orange.
Ashido stood up, grimacing as his wound screamed in protest. He would need to get to his base soon so he could heal the bloody thing properly.
"Graa!" Ashido unsheathed his zanpakutō and swung it to his right, cleaving right through the opposing Hollow that had launched itself at him. Ashido winced as the pain of his wound intensified, and couldn't muster up the energy to sheathe his sword. Gritting his teeth, he set off in a terribly slow Shunpo, moving east. He needed to get back to his base before an Adjuchas decided to swoop down on him.
It still amazed him how he could always find his base without fail, even though the Menos Forest had very few distinguishing landmarks. It was an odd, instinctual thing, and Ashido couldn't help but feel like his long-dead friends were assisting him in finding his way back every time.
He had chosen his base a long time ago, back when not all his friends were dead. The last one, Kouki, had told Ashido that his 'base' was more of a glorified knothole than anything else. And he wasn't completely wrong. It was a hole in a particularly large tree that stretched two meters in radius, with a rather stupid-looking, ratty black cloth covering the opening. It was no home, but it worked.
Ashido sighed in relief once he reached his base, confident that the Hollows wouldn't climb this far up. The knothole was near the roof of the Menos Forest, concealed from view and rather unassuming for a black splotch on a white tree.
Ashido, still gripping his zanpakutō limply with one hand and holding his stomach together with the other, opened the veil tacked over his base and stepped inside.
With the veil covering the opening, the inside of his base was near pitch-black. But with the cloth pulled aside, Ashido could clearly see the large knothole.
And the Hollow sitting placidly inside it.
Ashido blanched, gaping at the Hollow.
The Hollow rose its head, curled up on the pile of fabric Ashido called a bed.
"Wh-what…?" Ashido stuttered, before attempted to raise his zanpakutō. His arm wasn't listening to him.
The Hollow tilted its head in that all-too-familiar way, making Ashido flinch. Ashido tried to raise his sword again, but his body had shut down, the pain in his stomach preventing movement.
A Hollow had never found his base before, much less entered it and, by the looks of it, sleep in it. This was unprecedented, but Ashido supposed that everything about the orange-maned Hollow was unprecedented.
It looked quite different than it had the last time he saw it, Ashido noted. Its ridiculous hair was longer and shaggier, its skull-like grinning mask sporting a few new red marks. Its claws were much longer and the crimson tribal tattoos were as common as white armor on the Hollow's skin. The biggest change though, was that the Hollow was no longer small. It took up most of the space inside the four-meter wide hole, a long tail swishing lazily behind it. It was still relatively small by Hollow standards, but very noticeably bigger. And muscly.
"What are you doing here?" Ashido asked tiredly, too exhausted to really care that he had a terrifying-looking Hollow in his base.
The Hollow made a warbly sound and leaned forward into Ashido's exasperated face, its gold on black eyes peeking out from behind its fear-inducing mask. Its tail whipped around and prodded Ashido lightly, making him sigh in defeat. He couldn't seem to ever escape this Hollow, could he?
Taking in its appearance, Ashido finally understood why the not-so-little guy had been gone for so long. It was now an Adjuchas, meaning it had been off in the Menos Forest, wandering as Menos Grande. It was strange how fast it had gained power. Ashido just hoped the Hollow remained friendly, for he was too injured to fight back right now.
The Hollow's long red and white tail soon found Ashido's stomach, and the carmine-haired Shinigami couldn't help from wincing violently when the pointed end grazed his wound. The Hollow growled a bit, leaning closer. Ashido set his face in a determined scowl. This Hollow found his weakness. It was going to kill him.
"Rraaaa…." the Hollow wrapped its tail around Ashido's waist and pulled him inside, a long claw closing the veil. The Hollow moved itself so it was between Ashido and the exit, and placed Ashido down on the pile of cloth.
"D-dammit…" Ashido braced himself. He couldn't fight back, meaning this was the end. At least he purified a lot of Hollows before his death.
There was another prod on Ashido's stomach, and his Shinigami uniform was parted, so the wound was visible. The Hollow leaned down, its mask's mouth parting and a pale tongue emerging.
Was it going to lick him?
Indeed, it was. The orange-maned Hollow licked the bloody gash, and Ashido bit back a cry when the pale tongue seemed to burn him and made the skin on his stomach bubble like acid. Ashido knew he was dying, but then… the wound healed, right before his eyes.
'Instant regeneration?!' he thought amazedly, only the crusted blood on his uniform proving that he was ever hurt. 'No. Instant regeneration only works on the Hollow itself, not on others. Then how am I healed? Why?'
And that was the crux of the matter. Why did the Hollow mend his gash? He'd tried to kill this being on multiple occasions, and yet here it was, treating his wound with no malice in its actions. Hollows are supposed to be blood-thirsty monsters, not protective healers.
The Hollow rose back up and padded away from Ashido, curling up in front of the exit. Ashido blinked at it. The being's golden eyes blinked right back, and Ashido swore he saw a warmness in its eyes before it closed them and rested its head.
"You are not normal," Ashido sighed, gingerly ghosting his fingers along where the gash once was.
Though the Hollow couldn't understand what the Shinigami was saying, it hummed in its melodic way, smiling behind its mask.
To be continued...