This is a Bleach fanfic about Ichigo/Rukia, told from Rukia's POV as she's
watching the sunrise and waiting for school to begin on the roof of the
school. More chapters in different character POVs are promised, though no
deadline will be adhered to.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters featured in this piece of fiction, Kubo Taito does. Ripped them wholesale, I did. If you sue me you'll have to sue the rest of the Japanese anime fanfic writing fandom too!!! *flail*
Spoiler: Volume 3 of Bleach
Many thanks to Airy Maher, without your Bleach translations, LJ Bleach community, awesome fanfics, and basic amiability I cannot have gotten this far. Thanks also to Lacewood (Pe Yi) and Nik for providing me with most of the Bleach fanfics that I've read *__* Chances are, if you've written a Bleach fanfic or belong to a Bleach community, you've contributed to this too, so thanks to you all!
Comments and constructive criticism are both very welcome! And it is a very dignified and not at all desperate begging that I presented as I said that. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------
The coarse surface on the roof of the school is cool and pale under the pale blue sky. The morning wind blows through my hair, and gently caresses my neck and shoulders. With a straight back I sit, my legs crossed beneath me, waiting for the pale light of dawn to further illuminate the sky.
This is one of those times.
Though I have no way of making sure, I believe that every human being occasionally indulges in fantasies so wild, one can't even think of them without laughing at the incredulity of it all. Fantasies that one can sure to be mocked for, in even being able to conjure up such a ridiculous image in one's mind. Fantasies that make one ashamed even as he or she is indulging in the fleeting fulfillment such thoughts bring.
It hardly needs to be said that most of my fantasies revolve around my stand-in shinigami, Kurosaki Ichigo.
Sometimes, when I am alone and see no one else in sight, in this artificial body and this world that I no longer belong to, I think of those fantasies. I set aside my guard and allow my most shielded thoughts to surface, and that moment would be a tiny sanctuary in time.
The cool crisp air causes goose bumps to rise on my skin, and I think of how cold that day was, the day when Ichigo went to see his mother's grave. The rain shower on that day heightened the emotions the two of us were feeling at that time.
Perhaps, if it had not rained, we wouldn't have felt our anguish so deep in our hearts.
Perhaps, it was our respective remorse and pain that called the rain into falling on what had been a clear, summer day.
I must have lost my head that day, marching up to Ichigo and blatantly suggesting that he had been responsible for his mother's death, as if I had some right to intrude upon something so infinitely personal to him.
He went silent so suddenly that morning, the day before the anniversary. One moment he was still grumbling about his father not waking him up, and the next... He had closed himself to me. He'd never done that before. Gone was the idle chatter, mocking and complaints, he hardly even acknowledged my existence that day.
I did not exist when he was thinking of his mother, only his family did.
I wouldn't allow myself to realize it then, but I was hurt by his distance. It hurt that he wouldn't be open with me, even though he was completely justified in not doing so. For who am I but a freeloader, forced upon him through an unfortunate turn of events? He barely knew me, it's logical that he'd be reluctant to share something kept so deep inside of him.
Consciously I knew all of those things, but my emotions would not cooperate. I've always taken great care to not allow my emotions get the better of me, to always remain practical, yet it was all useless when Ichigo is involved in the matter. Sometimes I wonder if his vast spiritual potential also includes the ability to dissolve my sensibility.
And so, in the only way I knew how, I barged in uninvited and tried to make him include me in the matter. To let me in, share his thoughts and feelings with me. It must've been a hollow, insisted I.
If I had been a man, he would've punched my face in, and I would've deserved it. As it was, my heart nearly stopped as he roared, his anger lashing out in almost tangible coils. My horror and fear at what I had done increased with the appearance of the sneer on his face and the spiteful undertone in his voice, as he rejected my theory - everything was the handiwork of hollows with me. And he was right, for the existence of hollows was the only thing that binds him to me.
::You know, sister, you'll lose friends when you think about nothing but work.::
For a modified soul, Kon is extremely perceptive. It is through his words that I realize the true folly behind my actions.
My dedication to my work as a shinigami was... is still... the one thing that I can be proud of, for myself. For my work, I sacrificed what family I had as a drifting ghost child. Because of my work, I get to stay by Ichigo's side.
There is nothing else to occupy my thoughts with... My work is all I have... It is all I have to offer and hold onto.
It is all that I have.
As we raced alongside of each other towards the attacking hollow, I composed myself before him. I would wait when he's ready to share on his own, any meddling on my part... Would help neither one of us. Waiting is all that I can do; he must be the one to close the gap.
I may not interfere. It took all the self-restraint that I had, but I did not interfere. Selfishly I wanted to help him, to prove my own usefulness, and to keep him from dying... to keep him from leaving me. But for his sake, I had to hold back, I must. I've crossed the line once before, I may not violate the boundary again. I have no right to do so. Never did.
Kon saw through it all, once again. Sometimes I think he is the most insightful one of the three of us. In place of my own heart, he pleaded with me, to go back and help Ichigo.
Looking back, I really had been lost that day. I ran along mechanically, allowing my body to do the thinking for my head. Even as I ran back to Ichigo, I had no idea what to do. Ichigo might die if I stand back... but he would be crushed if I did not. The wound in his heart would go unhealed. He might hate me, but above all he would hate himself.
Who am I to do that to him?
In the end I still pushed him back from pursuing his mother's murderer, begging him to stop, screaming that the battle was over, that it was enough... When in essence, I was really crying. The rain masked my tears as I cried for him to not die, pleading for him to abandon the battle for now, to not forsake his life, because I had asked him to.
And the fantasy that I hold over this event? The impossible dream that sets my cheeks aflame for even considering its possibility?
I dream that Ichigo really did forfeit his battle lust for me, that he'd noticed my tears, noticed /me/, and my begging him to stay. That he saw my actions for what they were - an abandonment of my dignity, pride, and reservations, the baring of myself to him, and cared. That he heard the despair in my voice, and just as I understood the importance of allowing him to fight his own battle, understood what it would do to me if he left me behind. That despite his rage, his disregard for his own life in avenging his mother, the woman that he loved the most in the world, he would hold onto the land of the living for my sake.
That he stayed and lived and did not give himself up to the harsh wounds he had sustained... for my sake... That someone, especially Ichigo...
The emotion moving me from deep within my heart caused tears to spill down my cheeks, like broken strings of pearls. There's a reason why I can never think of these things while there are others around. Shame burns through me as I wrap my arms tightly around myself, as the absurdity of being moved by something so silly settles in. Ultimately, it is an irrational, fanciful notion that a self-respecting shinigami such as myself should not have. It is arrogant, not to mention pure folly, to assume that Ichigo could've saw me as someone so important...
He may feel obligated to me for saving his life when we first met (Pah, it had been my mistakes that almost cost him and his family their lives), but he has long since repaid it for taking on my duties for me, despite his own misgivings about fighting hollows. He cares for me, as any decent human being would care about another. To even consider that he might feel more. the extent of idiocy and wishful thinking it must require on my part disgusts even myself.
My stay with him is very temporary, after all. Soon I shall regain my powers, and he shall be rid of me. I am a shinigami, and my duties are to protect humans against hollows and to not shame my family name.
When the time comes to leave, I will have to make him forget about this business with hollows, shinigamis, me. Soon not a trace of myself will remain in his mind. Dwelling on such needless human emotions is clearly impractical.
Would he object to that, if he knew? Probably, he does not seem like the type who'd enjoy having parts of his memory wiped out and replaced by random memories.
Yet another secret fantasy of mine - that Ichigo would insist on keeping his memories intact solely in remembrance of me.
Quite abruptly I burst out in sharp laughter, trying to react to the thought as any sensible person would. In all seriousness, I am really beginning to get on my own nerves. It isn't like me to dwell so pathetically on such shallow human affairs. Perhaps I've been perfecting my act as a human girl too well.
Smiling at the strange bout of silliness I've just had, I sit up and dust off my uniform, my skirt swishing with the change in position. A shudder goes through me as I shake out whatever wistful sensation that still lingers within me, and I am ready to face my role as Kuchiki Rukia, the sweet and adorable transfer student, who merely knows Ichigo as Kurosaki- kun, nothing more than a boy who happens to be in the same class as her.
Now, if only the sun would stop shining so brilliantly in my eyes.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------- To be continued.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters featured in this piece of fiction, Kubo Taito does. Ripped them wholesale, I did. If you sue me you'll have to sue the rest of the Japanese anime fanfic writing fandom too!!! *flail*
Spoiler: Volume 3 of Bleach
Many thanks to Airy Maher, without your Bleach translations, LJ Bleach community, awesome fanfics, and basic amiability I cannot have gotten this far. Thanks also to Lacewood (Pe Yi) and Nik for providing me with most of the Bleach fanfics that I've read *__* Chances are, if you've written a Bleach fanfic or belong to a Bleach community, you've contributed to this too, so thanks to you all!
Comments and constructive criticism are both very welcome! And it is a very dignified and not at all desperate begging that I presented as I said that. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------
The coarse surface on the roof of the school is cool and pale under the pale blue sky. The morning wind blows through my hair, and gently caresses my neck and shoulders. With a straight back I sit, my legs crossed beneath me, waiting for the pale light of dawn to further illuminate the sky.
This is one of those times.
Though I have no way of making sure, I believe that every human being occasionally indulges in fantasies so wild, one can't even think of them without laughing at the incredulity of it all. Fantasies that one can sure to be mocked for, in even being able to conjure up such a ridiculous image in one's mind. Fantasies that make one ashamed even as he or she is indulging in the fleeting fulfillment such thoughts bring.
It hardly needs to be said that most of my fantasies revolve around my stand-in shinigami, Kurosaki Ichigo.
Sometimes, when I am alone and see no one else in sight, in this artificial body and this world that I no longer belong to, I think of those fantasies. I set aside my guard and allow my most shielded thoughts to surface, and that moment would be a tiny sanctuary in time.
The cool crisp air causes goose bumps to rise on my skin, and I think of how cold that day was, the day when Ichigo went to see his mother's grave. The rain shower on that day heightened the emotions the two of us were feeling at that time.
Perhaps, if it had not rained, we wouldn't have felt our anguish so deep in our hearts.
Perhaps, it was our respective remorse and pain that called the rain into falling on what had been a clear, summer day.
I must have lost my head that day, marching up to Ichigo and blatantly suggesting that he had been responsible for his mother's death, as if I had some right to intrude upon something so infinitely personal to him.
He went silent so suddenly that morning, the day before the anniversary. One moment he was still grumbling about his father not waking him up, and the next... He had closed himself to me. He'd never done that before. Gone was the idle chatter, mocking and complaints, he hardly even acknowledged my existence that day.
I did not exist when he was thinking of his mother, only his family did.
I wouldn't allow myself to realize it then, but I was hurt by his distance. It hurt that he wouldn't be open with me, even though he was completely justified in not doing so. For who am I but a freeloader, forced upon him through an unfortunate turn of events? He barely knew me, it's logical that he'd be reluctant to share something kept so deep inside of him.
Consciously I knew all of those things, but my emotions would not cooperate. I've always taken great care to not allow my emotions get the better of me, to always remain practical, yet it was all useless when Ichigo is involved in the matter. Sometimes I wonder if his vast spiritual potential also includes the ability to dissolve my sensibility.
And so, in the only way I knew how, I barged in uninvited and tried to make him include me in the matter. To let me in, share his thoughts and feelings with me. It must've been a hollow, insisted I.
If I had been a man, he would've punched my face in, and I would've deserved it. As it was, my heart nearly stopped as he roared, his anger lashing out in almost tangible coils. My horror and fear at what I had done increased with the appearance of the sneer on his face and the spiteful undertone in his voice, as he rejected my theory - everything was the handiwork of hollows with me. And he was right, for the existence of hollows was the only thing that binds him to me.
::You know, sister, you'll lose friends when you think about nothing but work.::
For a modified soul, Kon is extremely perceptive. It is through his words that I realize the true folly behind my actions.
My dedication to my work as a shinigami was... is still... the one thing that I can be proud of, for myself. For my work, I sacrificed what family I had as a drifting ghost child. Because of my work, I get to stay by Ichigo's side.
There is nothing else to occupy my thoughts with... My work is all I have... It is all I have to offer and hold onto.
It is all that I have.
As we raced alongside of each other towards the attacking hollow, I composed myself before him. I would wait when he's ready to share on his own, any meddling on my part... Would help neither one of us. Waiting is all that I can do; he must be the one to close the gap.
I may not interfere. It took all the self-restraint that I had, but I did not interfere. Selfishly I wanted to help him, to prove my own usefulness, and to keep him from dying... to keep him from leaving me. But for his sake, I had to hold back, I must. I've crossed the line once before, I may not violate the boundary again. I have no right to do so. Never did.
Kon saw through it all, once again. Sometimes I think he is the most insightful one of the three of us. In place of my own heart, he pleaded with me, to go back and help Ichigo.
Looking back, I really had been lost that day. I ran along mechanically, allowing my body to do the thinking for my head. Even as I ran back to Ichigo, I had no idea what to do. Ichigo might die if I stand back... but he would be crushed if I did not. The wound in his heart would go unhealed. He might hate me, but above all he would hate himself.
Who am I to do that to him?
In the end I still pushed him back from pursuing his mother's murderer, begging him to stop, screaming that the battle was over, that it was enough... When in essence, I was really crying. The rain masked my tears as I cried for him to not die, pleading for him to abandon the battle for now, to not forsake his life, because I had asked him to.
And the fantasy that I hold over this event? The impossible dream that sets my cheeks aflame for even considering its possibility?
I dream that Ichigo really did forfeit his battle lust for me, that he'd noticed my tears, noticed /me/, and my begging him to stay. That he saw my actions for what they were - an abandonment of my dignity, pride, and reservations, the baring of myself to him, and cared. That he heard the despair in my voice, and just as I understood the importance of allowing him to fight his own battle, understood what it would do to me if he left me behind. That despite his rage, his disregard for his own life in avenging his mother, the woman that he loved the most in the world, he would hold onto the land of the living for my sake.
That he stayed and lived and did not give himself up to the harsh wounds he had sustained... for my sake... That someone, especially Ichigo...
The emotion moving me from deep within my heart caused tears to spill down my cheeks, like broken strings of pearls. There's a reason why I can never think of these things while there are others around. Shame burns through me as I wrap my arms tightly around myself, as the absurdity of being moved by something so silly settles in. Ultimately, it is an irrational, fanciful notion that a self-respecting shinigami such as myself should not have. It is arrogant, not to mention pure folly, to assume that Ichigo could've saw me as someone so important...
He may feel obligated to me for saving his life when we first met (Pah, it had been my mistakes that almost cost him and his family their lives), but he has long since repaid it for taking on my duties for me, despite his own misgivings about fighting hollows. He cares for me, as any decent human being would care about another. To even consider that he might feel more. the extent of idiocy and wishful thinking it must require on my part disgusts even myself.
My stay with him is very temporary, after all. Soon I shall regain my powers, and he shall be rid of me. I am a shinigami, and my duties are to protect humans against hollows and to not shame my family name.
When the time comes to leave, I will have to make him forget about this business with hollows, shinigamis, me. Soon not a trace of myself will remain in his mind. Dwelling on such needless human emotions is clearly impractical.
Would he object to that, if he knew? Probably, he does not seem like the type who'd enjoy having parts of his memory wiped out and replaced by random memories.
Yet another secret fantasy of mine - that Ichigo would insist on keeping his memories intact solely in remembrance of me.
Quite abruptly I burst out in sharp laughter, trying to react to the thought as any sensible person would. In all seriousness, I am really beginning to get on my own nerves. It isn't like me to dwell so pathetically on such shallow human affairs. Perhaps I've been perfecting my act as a human girl too well.
Smiling at the strange bout of silliness I've just had, I sit up and dust off my uniform, my skirt swishing with the change in position. A shudder goes through me as I shake out whatever wistful sensation that still lingers within me, and I am ready to face my role as Kuchiki Rukia, the sweet and adorable transfer student, who merely knows Ichigo as Kurosaki- kun, nothing more than a boy who happens to be in the same class as her.
Now, if only the sun would stop shining so brilliantly in my eyes.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------- To be continued.