Oh boy…
The most recent manga chapter (397, as I write this) has just thrown one hell of a wrench into some of my later chapters. I had contemplated waiting for the next chapter to see where Kubo was going, but I got assaulted by a freight-train's worth of plot bunnies, and I just had to keep going. In light of recent revelations, I re-examined a few things, decided to re-write a few later chapters and I managed to write something absolutely amazing. So, as of right now, I'm officially labeling this story 100 percent AU. I may try to wiggle some things in to keep things as canon as possible, but for the most part I'm doing things my way from now on.
And just so you know, I can't even properly proofread that damn chapter now. I keep crying damnit! :_:
…
Yes, I made myself cry.
No, I'm not afraid to admit it.
And for anyone that cares:
Master File Word Count: 33,765
Master File Page Count: 87
Again, without author's notes.
And I still don't own anything
…
… Bu-bump, Bu-bump…
…
It was cold. Everything was cold. The wind, his skin, the sheen of blood, the center of his soul.
All, cold.
And he didn't care.
…
… Bu-bump, Bu-bump…
…
This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Sword to Sword, heartbeat to heartbeat.
Not like this.
And he didn't care.
…
… Bu-bump, Bu-bump…
…
Heat in his hand. Searing. Pounding. Slowing. A voice on the wind he couldn't hear.
Last words, last breath.
And he didn't care.
…
… Bu-bump…
…
He opened his mouth, but no words came. Only a growl; low, cold, and murderous.
Words were beyond him.
And he didn't care.
He squeezed
…
… silence…
…
Ichigo woke with a start, mid-morning light surrounding him.
It was that nightmare again.
He kept his eyes closed, taking deep, steady breaths to calm his hammering heart and ease his shaking nerves.
It wasn't the most frightening nightmare he'd ever had. That honor belonged to Grand Fisher, damn his hollow soul. But still, this one was pretty bad.
Mostly because it was real.
He crushed that thought, and the nightmare with it. Crushed it and flung it into the deepest recesses of his mind, forcing himself to forget it had ever happened. It wasn't important any more, and what's done is done. He can't change the past.
And even if he could, he wasn't sure he'd want to.
Ichigo lay back onto his borrowed futon and cracked open his eyes to gaze into the sunlight. Looking around, he realized that he wasn't in his bedroom. This startled him a bit at first, but he calmed as soon as remembered that he was in Inoue's apartment. He searched the area with his senses, despite what people say he was actually pretty good if he knew what he was looking for, and could tell right away that his generous friend wasn't in the apartment. He figured she went to school like she said she would, and was even courteous enough not to wake him. How long had he slept, anyway? He didn't know, and he didn't have the energy to search for a clock to find out. The sun was climbing steadily, but it wasn't all that high in the sky just yet, so he figured it must still be a few hours before noon.
After that last coherent thought the rest became a mild blur. Memories of yesterday began filtering in, but Ichigo pushed them aside. He could remember later. His body was still numb from sleep, and he had finally managed to get comfortable enough under the blankets to rest, his previous nightmare forgotten. Right now he was still tired, and he had no reason to get up just yet. Maybe, just this once, he would indulge himself.
Hadn't he earned that much?
The feeling of hard concrete on his back destroyed any thoughts of lazing about. In an instant Ichigo was up on his feet, eyes open and wide awake.
He was in his inner world. Blue skies and sideways buildings as far as the eye could see. The first thing he noticed was that he felt… normal. The teen reflexively looked down, and was absolutely ecstatic to find that he was normal. Short hair, no breasts, and all of the pieces were in their proper places. Apparently, whatever Urahara had done to him was only skin deep, because here within his soul he was completely unchanged.
That thought sobered him, however. The Substitute Soul Reaper's inner world was still a bit of a mystery to him. Ichigo never came here on his own, and in actuality he didn't know how. It was just another one of those great Soul Reaper Mysteries that no one felt like explaining because they just assumed that everyone already knew how it worked. As a matter of fact, with maybe only one or two exceptions, the only time Ichigo ever really visited this place was when…
"Ichigo."
… Zangetsu had a point to make.
Ichigo gazed over and found that Zangetsu was indeed waiting for him. The teen looked questioningly at the Zanpaktou spirit, wondering why in the world he had brought him here. After a few moments of confused and uncomfortable silence, Ichigo's impatience got the better of him.
"What's wrong?"
"You can't keep avoiding it."
The teen started for a moment, wondering what Zangetsu meant. The spirit must have sensed his confusion, because he merely nodded his head towards the buildings nearest to them. Ichigo paused, scanning the area and wondering what had ruffled Zangetsu's feathers enough to actually drag him here.
It took a couple of seconds to realize what he was trying to point out. One of the buildings had changed color, darkening subtly, while a few of the buildings around it seemed to have scorch marks littering the area.
"Is that…"
Ichigo gestured at the discolored building, swallowing hard and wondering if he should consider panicking.
"It is, but it is not the problem."
Relief washed over Ichigo, quickly replaced by confusion. If that wasn't the problem, then what was?
"The burns."
Zangetsu's answer to his master's unasked question only piqued the substitute's curiosity further.
"What caused them?"
"Touch one."
Ichigo was leery of the idea, but the look on Zangetsu's face was as unreadable as ever. The Zanpaktou wasn't the kind to kid around about anything though, and the teen had learned a long time ago that if he felt the need to actually tell Ichigo to do something, he better damn well do it.
The nearest scorch mark was two buildings down from him, as best he could tell. A single flash-step brought him within a few feet, the wary teen figuring he should still approach cautiously despite being in his inner world.
When he was close enough, Ichigo kneeled down and slowly let his fingers brush over the burnt concrete. The effect was instantaneous. He was suddenly filled with a harsh, cold malice. It didn't feel right, and yet it was horribly familiar. It was a pain he knew…
Ichigo's hand quickly jumped from the blackened masonry as he fell back wide eyed. His breathing had become ragged and the teen had to fight to regain control of his heart and lungs.
Memories began filtering in. Memories he wanted to suppress, to ignore, to forget entirely. The young Soul Reaper closed his eyes, determined to bring himself back under control, to crush and throw away that entire incident.
"Stop."
Ichigo looked up to find Zangetsu standing near him, a look that passed for sympathy barely gracing his face.
"This is a problem," The spirit began in his softest monotone, "you cannot solve on your own. Its root lies in others, and only in others shall a solution be found. Forcing the memories down will not make them fade. It only compresses them, so that when they resurface they are that much stronger."
As Ichigo finally managed to regain control over his breathing he felt the pit fall out of his stomach.
"The nightmares…"
"Precisely."
"And… you're sure it has nothing to do with…"
"I am certain."
Icihgo swallowed nervously. Gazing around while trying to collect his thoughts, he couldn't help but wonder just how many of those scorch marks were in here. He looked, and didn't like what he saw.
"What… should I do about it?"
"That," Zangetsu replied with a hint of melancholy, "is something only you can decide. All I can say is this: You are not alone. If, in a time of need, your own strength is not enough, do not be afraid to rely on the strength of others. Remember that the most difficult battles are the ones not fought with swords, where wounds shed only blood."
"R-right…"
Zangetsu nodded, indicating his satisfaction with the conversation. Ichigo sat for a while, contemplating this new development and wondering why everything always had to become so much more complicated.
Sighing, the teen stood before nodding to Zangetsu, indicating that he was leaving. The Zanpaktou merely hummed his assent as Ichigo began rushing back to consciousness. He may not know how to get into his inner world…
…but he sure as hell knew how to get out.
I've decided to have this be its own chapter even though it's a little short because it's heavier than most. It was originally going to be about half of one chapter, but the next scene is much lighter, and I didn't want them to clash.
The truth is I have some trouble doing angst. I'm by nature a happy person, but on occasion I get struck by genius. There have been several occasions where I've written something that makes me bawl my eyes out, so if you're the emotional type be prepared for later on in the story.
And now… for something completely different!
(Thank you, Monty Python ^_^)
I recently got to see Wicked while it was playing in San Francisco, and I must say that it was EPIC! I absolutelyloved it! I laughed, I cried, and I bought a CD, bag, keychain, and poster.
Afterwards we got lost trying to find this restaurant called Nirvana and ended up walking like 13 blocks (no exaggeration) to get there. I hadn't worn the best of shoes, so my feet were killing me by the time we finally made it.
But oh god was it worth it.
I had a Tofu Ramen dish that was absolutely to die for. The bowl was huge, the spinach and tofu were wonderful, and the broth made me just about lose my mind. Needless to say, I ate as much of it as my stomach could hold, which can be quite a bit if I put my mind to it.
When we got home I examined my feet and I had around eight blisters (I kid you not) ranging in size from slightly annoying to damn that hurts! A needle, some rubbing alcohol and a few Band-Aid's later and I could shamble around the house again.
Now, if I could just get my back to stop hurting…
