Sometimes, Jeanmarie wants nothing more but to forget. She hates herself for thinking it and claws at her heart for wishing, but when she's as withered and shriveled and as strung out as this, she just wants and needs to forget. This and that and everything else, him and her and everyone. Please, just go away and disappear.
I'm begging you.
She can't handle the pain that strangles her heart and tears at her throat when she remembers. Let me forget you, she pleads to the taunting, happy memories, Let me forget and move on and run away from all this guilt.
Just leave me alone.
But she cannot and will not, and this whole world is so false and full of reminders upon reminders that she wants to screech and break and burn.
And in dreams where things mattered even less than the world she had been thrown into?
She does.
Jeanmarie heaves the coffee-scented mug across the room, acrid smell invading her nose with memories of early mornings watching the rain fall. It shattered onto the floor, taking the thought away. She silently turns before her arm sweeps across the table, everything crashing onto the floor with a deafening crack. The chair is upturned, the napkins are torn, and the books and food and everything are all stained together because she would rather starve than face an empty dinner table again.
She sees her brother's smile on another's face and a mirror with nothing but lies and blanches, turning even paler than she already was, and knocks the reflection onto the ground as she tries in vain to rip that impossible color off her skin. Her mouth is still glued shut but her eyes are burning and her chest is nothing but ice.
When she finally stops and turns around, arms streaked with angry red, she finds the kid watching, staring glassily as he wears a grin that was not and would not ever be his.
Her mouth shudders open and she screams because she's sure that if it was possible to die from heartbreak she should have been gone years ago and she wishes it was-
Because she doesn't care, not anymore, about the cup or the table or the mirrors or the house or her drawings or her anything-
But the father that always insisted on using the same mug for drinking his caffeine and the mother that set the tables for dinner and the grandparents who gave her the looking glass and the friends who would call her stupid, stupid nicknames-
The brother that would fight her over the smallest things-
When she wakes up from the nightmare, she silently opens her eyes to the wrong room. Once again, the knot in her stomach grows, and she turns to burrow her head back into the pillow, suffocating herself in the false comfort.
…
"Yoo-hoo! Is anyone home?'' Someone tapped on her head gently, but she didn't acknowledge them. After all, she was only putting her head down for a minute, right? Just a few seconds, a few blissful moments of leaning her head in her arms and closing her eyes, for once letting all her worries just… float away… Smack! "Kurosaki! Stop slacking and wake up!"
"Argh!" Jeanmarie slammed awake, hand lashing out to almost catch the attacker in the face. The bright light cut through her eyes, and she felt a muscle involuntarily twitch. "I-What? I'm awake, I'm awake… Sorry, Okiku." The easily forgettable face of her plane-jane classmate blurred into her view as she blinked the bleariness away. "Haven't been getting much sleep. What were we doing?" She checked the clock in the front of the classroom as she asked, eyebrows rising in surprise. She'd been asleep for all of 18 minutes, despite what had felt like a two second nap.
"Well, we were studying for the next sciences test together until someone decided to fall alseep, yeah?" The brunette frowned at me, before squinting in concern. "Hey, you sure you're not sick or something? You've been super out of it lately. You even fell asleep in English class, and you love English class! Seriously, I'm pretty sure the teachers are gossiping!" Okiku switched into a poor falsetto imitation, forcing a laugh out of Jeanmarie. "Kurosaki Nori? Sleeping in class? A blasphemous notion!"
"I'm fine. Just haven't been sleeping well." She ran a hand through her tangled hair, wincing as her fingers caught in her curls. (...Why hadn't she cut them yet?)
The other sighed, shaking her head. She just shrugged, dimly listening as the other droned on and on about how she should take better care of herself, how she was seriously worried about Nori, how she needed to loosen up at take a break, etc.
I'm sure I'd be fine if I wasn't, I don't know, having to watch my back 24/7?
(... Charlotte and Lily would be saying the same thing-I miss them I want them back I need them back-
Stop thinking about it-)
Okiku paused for breath, peering at her skeptically. "...Are you even listening? I'm really concerned, you know."
"God, just stop already! I get it, alright!?" She snapped at the other, shooting off a glare as her hand tightened over her pencil. She didn't need to listen to this, didn't have the time nor the patience to deal with an imitation right now. Couldn't the girl just drop it? Having half a mind to get up and leave, she started shifting up on her chair to gather her things before being brought to a stuttering halt at the look on Okiku's face.
It looked… pained.
Hurt.
Like it actually had feelings, actually cared, actually had a heart. Which it didn't, something Jeanmarie knew was a fact.
So what was this hole opening up beneath her feet? What were these pricks of bubbling guilt rolling in her gut? Was she really becoming so pathetic that she was turning to something like this for comfort? Were her only friends really that replaceable? What about her family? Her teeth ground together, brain clogging up once again and drowning under burning questions searing across her eyes. An unbearable itch seemed to spring up on the inside of her chest, doubt and uncertainty and loathing growing and leeching off her insides.
"Nori."
A hand clasped at her own, breaking her sickened reverie. Jeanmarie stiffened, eyes refocusing onto Okiku. "...What?"
"I know you're having a hard time. Might not know why, per say, but I know something's going on. I'm not sure why you ran away from home or why you're not sleeping or why you've been acting like something's gonna eat you." The brunette paused for breath, innocently earnest eyes looking into her own (disgusted, disgusted, don't act like you know me). "But I want you to know that I want to help, okay? I'm really worried about you, and as a friend I don't want to let that go. You might not accept my help right now, but I want you to know I'll always be there for you." (No no no shut up shut up shut up).
Jeanmarie swallowed the needless lump rising in her throat, for some reason unable to look away. Eyes caught, she instead chose to grit out a suspicious, "...Why?"
"Well, we're friends, right?" Okiku smiled brightly, and for just a second-
For just a second-
Not Lily or Charlotte, Okiku and her alone, nobody gripping around her throat or ears and being even minimally freer from the weight over her shoulders.
She blinked, and the faces of her friends taunted her from the other's eyes once more. The tightness around her chest slammed back into place, wrapping around and strangling it once more. She nodded blankly. "Right." Muttering the word quietly, she re-seated herself into her chair, picking up her science book. The other beamed at her from over the pages, and Jeanmarie let herself relax, just a bit.
She was just humoring the girl for awhile, it didn't mean anything. It didn't. She would ever understood how she could ever interact with them like this. Were they sentient? Did they matter at all in the big picture? They weren't real, but sometimes she could fool herself…
(God, please let her fool herself)
..
Ichigo's fifteenth birthday hits, and Jeanmarie doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know when the plot starts, doesn't know anything about the date or when everything would begin. All she knows is that there's an imminent threat on the horizon, terror looming over her and creating a hole in her gut. She doesn't bother with presents or birthday cards or anything inconsequential like that, and although her hand pauses above her phone for half a second, she brushes the silly thought away in favor of preparations for the events to come.
She's been counting, counting, counting, days and weeks and months. Each a tick on her calendars, running through days that she wished would lengthen.
I need a weapon, she tells herself under that rising wave of panic, running a hand through her hair over and over again as she tries to force herself to think. Do normal things even work against Hollows and stuff? They did, didn't they? Or was it just spirit stuff? Jeanmarie forces down the knot in her stomach, a feeling of dread crawling over her hands and making them quiver. She couldn't even remember the small things, what the hell was she supposed to do in order to stay alive?
Calm down, calm down, calm down.
"Think, for fuck's sake!" She snaps at herself under her breath, fingers catching in the orange knots as English pours forth. "Chad hit the hollow thing with a telephone pole one time, right?! Right?!" She's getting hysterical, pacing back and forth in her bedroom with too much knowledge of useless bullshit bouncing back and forth in her head. "Holy fuck what the hell am I supposed to do? I sure can't go to Urahara, creepy bastard, but god knows I don't want to get murdered by the Hollows and Aizen-"
Aizen.
Jeanmarie freezes in place, shivering as she feels an imaginary gaze run ice along the back of her neck. The question that she had asked before, many, many times, echoed in her head.
Could Aizen spy on her? Actually, could Urahara?
Oh my god. The fucking genius up in the sky had mentioned something about-Conducting Ichigo's birth? Keeping track of him? Was he tailing her too, now that she existed? Another tendril of cold terror wrapped around her neck, squeezing tightly as she stood, frozen like a statue. She couldn't breathe under this pressure, this feeling of being watched and stalked and dissected for every move. A blanket, a cover, a stabbing sense of ice, sinking through her skin with every second, matching the tick tock of the clock. Dark spots begin to spread accross her vision before she finally inhales, a shuddering rasp emitting from her throat as her eyes begin to dart around the tiny apartment space she had inhabited.
(She would run and run and run but nowhere and nothing was safe, not from prying eyes and grasping hands and the choking fear-
She couldn't breathe-
She would never be able to escape. This apartment, this city, this world, would she ever be able to just hide?
Her trembling hands twitched from where it was buried in her flyaway hair, numb and frozen under the feeling of being watched.
Oh god, nonono, the eyes, I can feel it everywhere on my neck my back my throat-
Fighting through the haze of panic, Jeanmarie forced her fingers to slowly curl up into fists, and somewhere from underneath the urgent blaring need to flee, she found the flickering coherency to yank.
Hard.
Her neck snapped forward. "Ow!" Jeanmarie yelped, massaging her now-sore scalp. The throbbing pain broke the mask of dread, quelling it and reorienting her world. She couldn't afford to break down, not now. Not when danger was guaranteed to kick up and her life was in serious risk of death. She had to survive. Death was unacceptable.
And maybe she wants to-
But that could never happen. She wouldn't let it. She would never betray her family like that.
Jeanmarie could not risk committing anything less than perfection in face of a literal war. She could do nothing but plan, write lists upon lists of things that must be done, needed to be done, and helplessly fight and rage and scream against things that would come and burn everything to the ground.
(And damn her if she ever claimed she didn't want to let everything go up in flames.)
So she shoves down the possibility of a watcher (But honestly, can she really?) and buys a metal bat or three, sleeps with a knife under her pillow, and starts stashing weapons (Or things that resembled them, anyways) around town. Small things, a long stick painstakingly whittled down to a point here, a broken mop with jagged splinters half-taped together there. As inconspicuous as she could make it. Of course she was sorely deluded if she thought something like that could protect against anything but an ordinary human, but she needed this. Jeanmarie needed the false illusion of safety, of being able to do something, anything in the face of danger. She needed it like a drowning man needed air-She would go mad if she didn't.
It would protect her, The blade promised. It would give her a fighting chance. She could fight and survive and fightfightfight to the beat of her living heart. When the hollows started to appear and maybe even go after her (Who was she kidding? It was just a matter of time) she could try to fight. She could give herself a chance at survival, at avoiding death one more time.
It will protect her.
It will protect her.
It had to. After all, what else could she do?
Life went on. And on. And keeps going on, as normally as can be. It. Was. Nervewracking.
Months over months were purely average days of looking over her shoulder, waiting for something, anything out of the ordinary. Nights on end were wasted, staring out the window in paranoid hysteria and lost sleep, thrumming her fingers nervously on the handle of a kitchen knife. Jeanmarie almost started hoping for the plot to begin-God knows that it was better than the helplessness and paranoia that swathed every waking moment. Her eyes peeled open through pure nervous energy and an instinct to always flee.
Shaking hands and darting eyes that couldn't and wouldn't close, a pounding hammer of sleeplessness breaking apart her brain, she can't think.
(God, just kill me now, seriously.)
Days were smothered by an inattentive haze of exhausted terror. Nights were blurry lights of nightmares and hiding under too warm covers while gripping her knife.
Jeanmarie's hand slams down on the alarm as it BEEP, BEEP, BEEPs too loudly, already awake since long ago. Rubbing at her eyes, feeling them squelch and burn in her sockets, she staggers into the bathroom. Gait unsteady and shoulders tense, she takes a moment to try and chase away the unending beat behind her temples by the doorway. No such luck. Turning on the faucet, she goes to splash her face and winces as she mistakenly sloshes the icy water straight into her eyes. Blinking blearily, she hurriedly shuts it down and pats around for a towel with a curse.
Hands finding the scratchy piece of cloth, she tips her face downwards, wiping away the water. Jeanmarie groans. "... Bad day, then. Great. Fucking great." Giving herself another second with her eyes closed, she unwillingly pulls away, mindlessly dropping the towel on the floor as she does so. The world gives a spin.
Checking the clock-No luck, 10 minutes to get ready if she wants to get to school on time- She bolts towards her closet, mechanically pulling on the first fairly-clean uniform she can find. Grumbling, she runs a comb through messy as quickly as she can before moving on, almost missing the doorknob and narrowly avoiding faceplanting into the wall on the way out.
She nods off on the couch, TV incomprehensibly blaring news about a young girl who had been hit with a truck that day. Jerking up wildly and finding the clock once more, she snarls as she finds she's already twenty minutes past.
"God, fuck, Jesus Christ on a goddamn-" Frustration brims up in her head, jaw clenching as stress makes itself known again. Scratching at the back of her hand, Jeanmarie sits, stiff and glaring at the offensive time on the clock.
She cannot handle this.
Jeanmarie grabs her bag and sprints out the door.
...
Head throbbing with a dull pound, she wandered the town, bag slung over her shoulder and gaze blurry. Yawning, she shook her head in an attempt to get rid of the fuzz permeating her skull. No dice. School was technically in right now, but Jeanmarie couldn't bear one more second of going over too-easy subjects and forcing her eyes open to stagnancy.
Actually, it ended, what, three seconds ago?
She had taken to wandering the streets, half-asleep on her feet. I'd pass out in class anyways, might as well spend the time doing something more useful. Exercise, or something. She couldn't stay still, she'd conk out in seconds. Not ideal for someone trying to keep 24/7 watch for giant monsters that could crush her with a flick of their finger. Brushing away the niggling feeling of guilt (Why the hell does she still fucking care), she focused her thoughts on checking behind her for the fifth time.
Nothing.
Letting out a sigh of relief, turning the a corner to go left and narrowly avoiding the pole in front of her face. Swerving, she half-stumbled across to the other side of the street, near the shade. Feet becoming heavy as exhaustion caught up with her, she slumped onto the wall, closing her eyes as she rested her head. "Just let me have… a minute…" She muttered to herself, eyelids almost forcing themselves shut.
"... Nori?" A soft, careful voice, laced with surprise and maybe a tidbit of fear jarrs into her brain, bringing a cacophony of cymbals to her mind. Peeling back one eyelid, her gaze drags up slowly to meet-
Ah, that.
She blinks, staring at him for a minute before her brain actually registers what she's seeing, nose picking up a smell of cigarette smoke, and then a bit longer before her body catches up. Her mouth is open before she knows what to say. "...Y… You." Jeanmarie swerves back into Japanese last minute. Glaring upwards darkly, she feels the familiar pounding in her ears return as blood rushes to her head, jaw clenching as she fights against the urge in her throat to snarl and bare her teeth. "Father. What do you want? Just go away." She jerks back up to her full height unsteadily, forcing her shoulders to uncurl themselves and square up aggressively.
(She feels something in the back of her mind stirring, waking, yelling, telling her to run away because this was blaring dangerdangerdanger but the ache in her temples crowds the sound out too quickly to hear. All she wants is for him to leave already go away leave me alone my head hurts why aren't you gone?)
She grits her teeth in bubbling irritation as he seems to go through some interesting facial expressions, grinding them together as he does nothing but stare. "What!? Is there something on my face? If you don't have anything to say, leave me alone already, Father." Her voice pitches up in mockery of respect, arms crossed.
(What is she doing what is she thinking-why are you making him angry don't)
The quicker he got sick of her and left, the better. Jeanmarie watches with a hint of dark satisfaction as Isshin's face scrunches up in frustration and annoyance at her tone, raising an eyebrow at the other. "Nothing to say? Guess I'll just go." She snaps, turning around to leave.
"Wha-" Isshin splutters for a second, too shocked by the entirety of this encounter to register his own feelings completely, hand half reaching out towards the back of his daughter.
His daughter.
The first reaction (a flush of cold water being dumped over his head, relief and worry and anger and surprise why are you leaving again why are you trying to push me away why do you look so...) leaves him stunned still for a second, before everything is tamped down, washed over by a bitterly clear realization that he's just watching her fade away-
"Nori!"
His hand is on her shoulder before he can stop himself, agitated at the thought of losing her again. You're clearly not doing well, have you even been eating, should have taken care of yourself, and stay stay stay Ichigo and Karin and Yuzu need their sister back I need my daughter back all rise up at the back of his throat and races through his chest in the second he catches her arm.
What are you running away from?
Let me help you.
He's barely opened his mouth when she recoils like he's burned her with his hands, a jolt tearing her away as she whirls around. "Don't touch me!" She snarls, spitting and bristling as her arms lift up in front of her face, "Do not ever touch me again, you-" Her voice cuts off, frustration so palpable it seems to clog her throat.
(Her bloodshot eyes are alight with hate and fear and he's sure that if looks could kill, he'd be nothing more than ashes.)
A year, two years, all too long. She had just up and disappeared on them, leaving them all to just deal with her lost, gallivanting off into whatever sunset. How could she? The voice, dark and bitterly soured, echoes around his head.
Is he even looking at his little girl anymore?
Isshin can't. He doesn't know what to do. He can still feel the emptiness in the house, still so vividly remember different shades of orange in a three-person group. He can still see them all happy, see that image in his mind's eye. It's right there and yet drifting farther and farther away.
He's so lost.
"... Nori." He sighs, deep and heavy and empty of breath, "Please." It's not exasperated, but rings with the tone of someone very, very tired.
(Looking at her, truly, he suddenly feels old and stooped and so, so heavy)
Masaki… If you can hear me up there, please…
Help me.
I miss you.
Jeanmarie feels her jaws creak with the force she's exerting on them, as if the pressure will tamp down on the burning hole she feels in her chest. She hates this. Hateshateshateshates him and them and everything. Her brain is battering itself against her skull and her chest is tight from the squeezing of her ribs and she's so sure her lungs have filled with water and she's drowning- The agitation doesn't falter and neither does the stress, prickling up her chest and throat and racing agonizingly over her spine.
(I want to scream it out)
The thought burns in the back of her mind, and she clenches her fists in an effort to keep her composure. Inhaling deeply, she squashes the kicking and screaming child dancing on her chest back down to her gut. She breathes out, turning to face Isshin fully. "No," She speaks flatly, blood pounding in her head.
His face contorts into the ideal picture of hurt, and it both grounds her and throws her off simultaneously, the psychological oxymoron biting down on itself. See, it's not real, don't fall for this, and guilty guilty why am I doing this flits around her head in chaos, breaking waves against the side of her head. There's a bubble of magma in her gut, knotting up hard enough it hurts, and it swells, bursts, coating her insides in a red-hot something that feels like anger and shame. "What!? Are you looking for an invitation to leave?" She sneers, lips hurting with the force of her own grimace, "St-Stop looking at me like it's my fault!" Why is she feeling this? It doesn't matter, it's not real, you have your own family. Ignore this all, get back to your own, stop stop stop stop stop feeling shame (stop making me feel ashamed-)
If only I can tear his eyes out, Jeanmarie remarks in her head, then he'd stop staring at me like that.
If only she could tear her own heart out, then maybe she'd be able to do it.
"...Nori?" A stunned voice carries along the breeze. It takes her a second to register the voice, and she whips her head around. Refocusing on the sight of bright orange spikes, she groans, hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. Great, the day was getting better and better.
"What are you... What are you doing? Here?"
Fantastic.
Main storyline starting... well, probably really soon, with the truck accident n'all. I wanted to have some more bits about Isshin in here. I don't know, I see a lot of fanfics where he's lowkey jerk and also absent as heck, which is understandable since he's basically a side character. But I do like him, very much so.
So, sleep deprivation. Probably not going to help her out much. At all. Her stability is... probably less than optimal? An understatement.
Please Review~ Thank you for reading!
