The only main cast member that has yet to receive a backstory, or any real screen time, really. This will change, now. Chad is literally one of my favorite characters and he deserves more.
Warning: Historically accurate discussion of using corporal punishment on a child, and discrimination based bullying.
When Chad woke, he immediately knew something was off; it just took him a moment to figure out what. He stood up on shaky legs taking in his surroundings and found that absolutely none of it looked familiar.
This wasn't the ship. This wasn't his run-down little port town. This wasn't even… the beach.
He stumbled back, memories hitting him like a ton of bricks. He was dead.
He was dead.
Well, that explained the sudden clothing change, dressed in these odd robes as he was. It even explained the odd lands around him, but well, as odd as it all looked, he sincerely doubted this was heaven.
He was in a forest, that much was obvious, but little else was familiar. Not even the trees looked right. He could hear the sound of rushing water coming from somewhere, so with few other leads he walked towards it, barefooted.
It was warm, at least, he noted, and as green as the land was there was must have been a lot water.
(Did any of those things matter now that he was dead? He had no idea.)
He continued to the river, and when there wasn't much else to do, he walked up it until eventually, past the tall trees, he caught sight of some houses, a town even. He rushed forward.
Once again, he was disappointed. None of it looked familiar, not the buildings, and not the people. Where was he? He nearly asked the first person he passed, a young woman that barely spared him a glance, but then thought against it. What if they didn't understand him?
This could prove troublesome.
Chad kept his head down, walking through the town, simply listening. One thing quickly became clear. He could understand what they were saying, or at least the majority of it.
"I'll need one slab of tofu, today," the young woman said, "and some dried fish, if you have it."
The shopkeeper grinned. "Lucky you, I just dried some mackerel the other day."
He wandered through, feeling far more self-conscious then he ought. No one was staring, there were perhaps a few lingering glances, but he recognized that he looked different, somehow more so than usual. Everyone was pale, with pin straight hair, and he stood about half a head taller than even many of the adults.
Eventually he had backed himself into an alleyway, watching people pass by as he curled up in a ball in the shadows, long arms wrapped around his knees. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but soon enough the sun had set, and his hunger had grown.
He went to bed using his arms as a pillow with a determination that tomorrow he would find a way to go on… well "living" wasn't really the right word for it, anymore.
When the market roused once again, so did he. He ran to the river, cleaned himself as best he could and tried to not look like a troublesome thug. He ended up going to the "tofu" seller first, though he wasn't sure what that was.
"I'm… I'm in need of work," he stuttered out. At first the man looked at him, confused, and then his face lit up with a smile.
"I saw you here yesterday. You're a new arrival, aren't you?"
Chad nodded.
"Welcome to the Twenty-Fourth, then," he greeted, "and don't worry about working. A kid like you has no need for it. Now hurry along. Go find some other boys to play with."
The words made little sense to Chad. Still, he nodded and walked along. He could tell when he wasn't wanted. He moved on and tried again.
"I'm not looking for help, right now."
"Run along, kid."
"Why would you worry about a thing like that?"
The day was long. His stomach growled. His head spun. He just wanted to sit down, so for a moment he did.
"Hey kid… You hungry?" He glanced up to see a hand holding an odd-looking piece of food wrapped in paper. It looked soft… warm.
"No thank you." His grandfather didn't raise a beggar.
"You are, aren't you!" the stranger laughed. "Why else would you be asking around. You know, that kinda thing is unusual around here."
Chad looked up further, eyebrow raised. More confusing talk from the locals.
The person leaned over him looked like an adult, but not much of one. He was maybe five or so years Chad's senior, his dark brown hair flopping into his eyes as he gave the boy a pleasant smile.
Maybe it was because he looked so nice. Maybe it was because Chad was so tired. He decided to ask, "What do you mean by that?"
"I think it's supposed to be one of the perks of 'passing on.' You don't get hungry, so you never really want for anything, at least theoretically. Not everyone is so lucky, though."
Chad looked up at the man, then down to the food, and then back to the ground. That didn't make him feel any better.
The man let out a long sigh. "Would you take it if I told you I have things back at my shop that need hauling?"
The words buzzed in Chad's ears, and for a moment he thought it may be a trap. The man could very well be a kidnapper.
He took the bun and ate it in two bites, barely tasting the meat inside. He followed him.
Well, at least the shop is real.
The man sold fabric, from the looks of it, rolls of cloth lining the walls. They ranged from plain white to the types of luxurious prints that he'd expect at weddings. They were almost mesmerizing to look at.
"Brother, you're– Ah! A customer!" a young girl cried, bolting up from her seat.
She was a tiny thing. She maybe came up to his chest, her cropped orange hair pinned back with expensive looking crystal pins.
"Not quite, 'Hime. This is, er…"
"Chad," he supplied.
"Ch-Chad-o," the girls stumbled with a smile. "I'm Orihime Inoue, and well you've already met my brother."
"Sora," the man said brightly.
Chad shifted around, growing nervous. "You… said you had work."
"Yeah, that's tomorrow. Don't worry about it," he waved off. Chad nearly deflated. "'Hime, Chad just arrived here, and he told me he was getting real hungry earlier."
She gasped so loudly and suddenly that Chad thought someone had struck her. "Really?! I've never met anyone else that does that! And you're from the World of the Living?"
"Uh… yes?"
"Then you have to tell me about it! Everyone keeps talking about this Japan place, but every time I ask, they just say I'm better off not knowing. Well, I wanna know!"
"I've never been," he admitted with a frown. It struck him now that he would never go.
"Oh," Orihime deflated. Still, she drew closer. "Then it really is as big as they say, huh? Where are you from?"
She looked open, genuinely curious. He was curious, himself. There was so much being thrown around that he barely understood.
With a grin she ducked behind the counter producing two stools, sitting on the far one. She kicked her feet excitedly, and he almost felt like he had no choice but to sit down across from her, not when she was giving him that hopeful look.
To the best of his ability he told her about the little fishing town he hailed from, as well as the journey he took, and he watched as those big brown eyes lit up like stars.
…
Manzanillo, México: 1863
Chad Joaquín's knuckles stung.
He didn't mind. It felt good, in a weird sort of way. Energy buzzed through him, dulling the pain as he held fast the struggling boy pinned before him. Said boy was kicking wildly, spitting out curses that he never would have said in the earshot of any adult. There were two more behind him, each punching at his back to no avail.
With a swing he drew back, nailing one right in the nose with the sharp point of his elbow and sending him howling. The other grabbed for the offending arm only to be thrown off with no effort.
That was the thing. All this, it was easy to Chad. He may have been a skinny child, but he was still taller than each of these boys by a head or so, and just angry enough to be able to make each bit of his wiry muscle count.
The kid in front of him switched from spitting curses to just flat out spitting, getting Chad right on the cheek. Without hesitation he punched his captive in the gut.
A large hand grabbed Chad by the scruff, tearing him away before he could do anything more.
"See, Papa! I told you he was at it again!"
Chad nearly winced at the voice. He knew he had forgotten something. Who knew the runner was cowardly enough to tattle? With a stiff frown he looked to the mouth of the alleyway, to a pointing boy and then back up to his scowling father.
"As I can see," the man said before he begun to drag Chad away entirely. "Manuel, you and your friends should go home. I'll deal with this one."
Chad could hear the snickers of the other boys. He resisted the urge to fight his way out of the grip.
Could he overpower this man? Probably not. He may have been nearly as tall as him, but he was still just a scrawny teenager. He may be able to take him by surprise and then outrun him, but the trouble he'd face afterwards would hardly be worth it.
So, he let himself get dragged by the arm for nearly five blocks, knowing exactly what was coming the second they turned into a certain alleyway. He held in a groan.
They stopped at an apartment door, the worn one with the boards that didn't match, a pot of well taken care of plumerias hanging by the side. The man knocked once, furiously, and then twice with even more vigor. When the door finally opened, he sent a glare that even Chad could feel, and he wasn't even looking at the man.
He couldn't mee the eyes of the person who opened the door, either.
"Oscar!" the man snarled, "do you know where I caught this one today?"
"I can guess," he said simply.
"Fighting!" he snapped. "Again, with my son and his friends. One of them was bleeding!"
The man let out a sigh. "Chad, is this true?"
Chad said nothing.
"Get a handle on that boy of yours! If this happens one more time, I will not hesitate to teach him a lesson myself, understand?"
"That is hardly necessary."
"It doesn't seem that way from where I'm standing." Still, he let Chad go, the boy retreating inside, rubbing his arm that didn't hurt. "Listen, we understand your family's position, and we've helped as much as we can, but we have our limits. Control your grandson."
The door slammed shut.
For a moment Chad just shuffled his feet, eyes on the ground. His grandfather was the first to move, going past him to sit heavily in his chair. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" the elder man asked.
Chad didn't respond, using his shaggy hair as a shield.
"Are you going to say something or not? I know my hearing hasn't failed me quite yet."
"…Squinty eyes," he near whispered.
"…What?"
"…Goliath… Bastard…."
"Did those boys call you those things?" his grandfather asked carefully.
Chad shrugged.
The man let out a tired sigh. "Go get the water and a rag. Let me look at those hands of yours and then we can discuss."
The basin wasn't far, nothing was when you lived in a one room apartment. Chad could feel the eyes of his grandfather as he drew water from it, dropping the cleanest rag he could find into the bowl. Without really looking he passed the man the plate, sitting at his feet and presenting his reddened hands. His grandfather took them gently, dabbing at them in a way that didn't even sting.
"You know…" the man started, "there's nothing wrong with being different, even if others don't always see it that way."
Chad squirmed in place, only to have his hands swatted when he disturbed his grandfather's work.
"You're a strong boy," he continued sternly. "God didn't give you that strength to hurt other boys with."
Then what did he do it for?
His grandfather must have sensed the question in him because the sigh he let out was one wrought with exhaustion. Still, he tried for a smile, wrapping the boy's hands before grasping them tightly in his own. "If it were up to me, the story of your birth would be celebrated."
Here we go again.
"And why not?" his grandfather teased. "It sounds like a fairy tale. A traveler from a far-off land falls in love with a young woman only to return to his sea."
"And then she died," Chad muttered. He regretted it the second those words came out.
His grandfather's hands shook for a moment, more so than usual, and suddenly Chad had the urge to jerk back, as if he could take his words with him, but his hands were released before he had the chance.
"I was going to save this for your next birthday," Oscar began quietly, "but I figure now is as good a time as any." With great effort he stood, waddling to the base of his bed to the chest that lie there. With the key in his breast pocket he opened it, the hinges creaking loudly, and he drew out a single roll of paper. With a flick of his wrist and a wiggle of his whiskers he rolled it out onto the dining table.
"A map," Chad said, in awe. "Where did you get this?" How did he get this? It wasn't just any map; it was a sea chart.
"Old Adam owed me a favor," he said with a smirk.
Chad nodded dumbly, running his hands over the parchment, gazing at the faded colors, the etched names that he stumbled to read. His grandfather's eyes were similarly searching, a gnarled finger wandering across the page until it finally settled on, of all things, a little cluster of islands off the huge Eastern Continent.
"Japan," his grandfather read. "This is where your father is from, I'm certain. It took some digging, but Adam said that was the only place a name like Sado Yasutora would come from."
"He traveled from all the way over there?" Chad asked. His finger went from that point, back to the western coast of México, and then back again. It seemed impossibly far. He was starting to understand the "fairy tale" part of this.
With a grin his grandfather rolled the map back up, tying it with a ribbon. He held it out. "Take it!"
"After I got in trouble?" Chad mumbled.
"I could always tan your hide with my razor strap, instead," he said with an arched brow. Chad took it immediately. "The way I see it," he explained, "you can either let the words of those boys continue to effect you so, or you can have this, the knowledge that your father wasn't just some foreigner but an explorer."
Chad clutched the map to his chest, heart swelling.
"Thank you… Abuelo."
…
Chad was still clutching that map to his chest when they lowered his grandfather into the ground, the other members of the church surrounding him.
He supposed he should have seen this coming. His grandfather was once a strong and healthy man, working at the docks every day, despite his age. Then one day, and Chad didn't know the day, he started slowing down, taking fewer jobs, and coughing more. All that had led to this moment.
Maybe that was why Chad couldn't bring himself to cry, even after everyone else had left. He felt like he should have seen it coming.
He left the cemetery in the evening, speaking to no one for the entire day. He didn't even talk to old Mrs. Nuñez as she brought him a pot of soup for dinner. For about an hour he sat on his cornhusk bed staring into nothing. At the end of that hour he ate the soup stone cold and fitfully went to sleep.
In the morning he counted the money stowed away in a shoebox at the very bottom of his grandfather's chest, stuck it into his pocket, and headed to the docks, map still in hand.
"How do I get here?" he asked the first person whose eyes he caught.
"Are there any ships to Japan?" he asked the second.
"I need to get to Asia," he tried.
"I can work!" he nearly yelled.
"Hey! Niño!" a young sailor called. Chad's head snapped over to a group of three, all smoking, seated near some crates. He hurried over.
"Do you know how to get to Japan?" he asked immediately.
"You could say that," another said with a chortle.
Chad looked at him in confusion, and then it struck him. These men meant to make fun of him. He considered just turning around and continuing his search, but deep in his heart he knew he had to hear them out, just in case.
"Japan's closed," another explained.
"…Do you think I'm stupid?" Chad asked with narrowed eyes. "How can a country be closed?"
"It just is," the first one said with a smirk. "I've been sailing for the last three years, and not once have I seen a ship go there. To China, India? Yes, but not there."
"Well…" One of his buddies scratched his beard, drawing back when he got a glare for his troubles. "Hey, just thought the kid would want to know. I've heard rumors that those Dutchman's ships go there once in a while, them and those Americans. Fat chance of getting on one, though. They always keep to their own."
"Run home," one said with a wave of his hands. "Sailing isn't for boys like you. Come back when you've got some hair on your chest."
"Are there any of their ships here?" Chad insisted instead. The sailor smirked.
"Eh, a Dutch ship's coming in tomorrow, I think. Tulips or some shit. The governor here likes them."
"Liar," his friend chuckled. "They go to Veracruz, not this shithole."
"Hey, Dutchman need to shit, too!"
All three sailors seemed to have a big laugh at that, not that Chad cared. He rolled up his map and left for the day. The very next day he was back and was amazed by the sight in front of him.
The ship was absolutely massive, its many sails bigger than any Chad had ever seen. At the top it flew its colors, red, white, and blue. Milling around it were what seemed like a whole fleet of foreigners, the most common thing about the ship. With a deep breath he stepped forward to test his luck.
"Is this ship bound for Japan?" he asked a red headed man.
The Dutchman looked at him curiously. He tilted his head and asked, "Pardon?"
The accent was difficult to decipher but Chad thought he understood what was being said.
"Japan," he repeated, showing the map. "I want to go there."
"Ah! Een zeekart. Hoe kom je aan zoiets?"
Chad was immediately lost, his distress mirrored on the strange man's face as the boy grew silent. Then suddenly, his face lit up, and he waved into the line of working men.
"Markos!" he called. "Deze jongen heft een vraag. Kun je helpen?"
The other sailor took one look at them and rolled his eyes before clambering over. He was tall, Chad noted, taller than him by a decent amount actually. His fair skin and blonde hair, while uncommon in the town, was not uncommon among this crowd, at all. He dropped his hefty load at the two's feet, snapping something at his friend.
They went back and forth for a moment, Chad following absolutely none of it. Whatever they said, in the end Markos just sighed, turning to the boy.
"You need something, yes?" he asked shortly. His voice was accented, but the words were easy enough to follow.
Chad cut right to the chase. "Is this ship bound for Japan?"
"Aye," he said, visibly annoyed. "Is that all?"
"Take me with you! I have money, and I'm strong! I'll do whatever you ask of me as long as you take me to Japan!"
The man looked at him as if he'd just spat in his dinner. "Does your mama know you're here?"
"…No."
"Then run back home," he brushed off, then he turned to his shipmate, "and as for you, ga weer aan het werk! We moeten bij zonsopgang vetrekken!"
The two were gone after that, and for a while, Chad did what the man had ordered. He went back home. When night came, however, he decided to do something… different.
He watched the Dutchmen work for a good while, staying as inconspicuous as possible, not that they'd pay much mind to some kid gaping at a foreign ship. They had spent all morning offloading and were spending all evening onloading. From the looks of things, they were planning on leaving soon, probably by sunrise or earlier. This did not leave him much time.
Praying for forgiveness he looked both ways before dumping about half a barrel of beach apples into the sea. He… doubted they were going to eat those anyway. He crammed himself into the remaining space and lowered the lid over himself as best he could.
He nearly cheered aloud when he felt himself get hefted up and tried not to vomit when they started rolling him. He was moving for a while, until suddenly he wasn't. He heard footsteps on a wooden surface, the creaking of a door, and then nothing but his own breathing.
Within minutes he could feel his muscles begin to cramp, but he knew better than to try and leave the crate now. No, he was better off revealing himself when they were out at sea, and they were good and stuck with him.
Assuming they won't just throw me overboard… Hopefully that's not an option.
He woke up abruptly to the feeling of the ground rolling beneath him. He wasn't even sure when he fell asleep, but without any hesitation he shoved open the barrel's lid, suddenly desperate for fresh air.
When he came face to face with Markos, he nearly shrieked. The sailor had the good sense too looked pissed.
"You!" the man yelled.
Chad back peddled. He may have run if there was anywhere to run to. "I– Just–!"
The man was already dragging him by his ear through the door and into the harsh light of day. Chad's eyes struggled to adjust at first, and then what he saw amazed him. He was at sea, like really at sea. Blue surrounded the grand ship on all sides. Birds soared overhead. He'd never even left his birthplace before and here he was on the ocean.
Not even the twisting of his ear could take this away from him.
The Captain (he was the most well-dressed man on the deck) just might be able to, though.
He was dragged before this man, his eyes going down to the young boy, accusing. "Markos…" he started carefully. "Wat is dit?"
"Een stowaway. Ik heb hem gevonden in het machineel."
The stranger squeezed his eyes shut, fingers massaging his brow as if a great ache had just overtaken it. "Niño, just what are you doing on my ship?"
Chad gulped but didn't panic. He'd thought this through, after all. He just needed to play it cool. He dragged the coins from his pocket.
"I want passage to Japan," he said firmly, "to see my father."
It was the first time he'd said his intentions aloud or even admitted it to himself, really. Suddenly it all seemed so real.
The Captain snatched the coins out of his hand, not even deigning to count them. "This should begin to pay for the merchandise you destroyed."
"You can put me to work," Chad insisted. "I'm strong, and I can follow orders." Provided they're in Spanish. "I-I can even read… a little."
"He is already here," Markos said with a sigh, "and we are down a few men."
"Ik leid een schip, geen pension," the Captain snapped. He turned back to Chad. "We stop in Japan; you stay on board until you work off what you owe."
"I…!" Chad trailed off, cowed by his glare. "Yes… sir."
And work he did. In the morning he swabbed decks. In the evening he scrubbed dishes. In the afternoon…
"You're… not half bad at this," Markos said with a smirk. He inspected the rope that Chad had just worked on, comparing it to his own knot.
"Abeulo taught me a few."
Then Markos asked quietly, "Does he know you're here?"
Chad shrugged.
"You're on your own, aren't you?"
A nod. Markos winced.
"I should have seen that one coming." Markos looked back down to his work, continuing. "You know… people go to the sea for all kinds of reasons. Some want riches, freedom, are looking to find something, or are looking to get away. It all depends really."
"Does it work?"
Markos smiled. "I'm not sure yet. I guess we'll find out together."
A month and a half of sailing, and all it took was a single day of misfortune to kill Chad.
"Secure your lifelines!"
The storm came in the dead of night.
"She's a real bitch, innit she, Captain?"
Everyone was yelling. Chad understood none of it.
"Abandon ship!"
The last thing he saw was Markos' horrified face as a huge wave overtook them both.
Well, no, that wasn't quite right.
"Poor kid," he heard. The words sounded distant, everything did through his wheezing breath. "Well, it'll all be over soon. I guess we'll just wait together."
Chad couldn't feel his right side. He could feel the sand underneath him, the salt in his hair, the sun on his face, but not his arm, not his chest that just wouldn't move right.
"You know, this would be a lot easier on us both if you just went to sleep. I still got some of your crew to get through." The voice was joking, but not callous. He almost sounded sorry. "Yeah, that's it. Just… go to sleep, okay?"
Chad's eyes grew heavy. The last thing he really saw were black robes and pitying eyes.
…
He finished his story, and at the end he almost felt bad for having told it. The end had Orihime's eyes glistening, though she held it in with a heavy sniffle.
"It sounds like an adventurer's tale," she said with cheer. "I've just spent most of my life in this shop. Nothing so special."
The shop itself seemed well off, though, Chad noticed. That was valuable in itself.
That prosperity also stuck in his mind when Sora asked if he would like to stay the night in their home. He thought the man understood that he wasn't one for charity.
"I mean, since you're going to be working full time, I might as well provide room and board, assuming I want to be a good employer."
That didn't excuse the dinner he fed Chad. When he laid at night next to an already snoring Orihime, he felt somehow, he'd been manipulated into this position.
He slept soundly.
Come morning he felt fuller and more well rested than he had in a very long time. This had him… begrudgingly accept the manipulation. When the time to work came, he was happy for it.
"We have a few seamstresses that we supply to," Orihime explained. "We take their orders to them and collect the payment. Easy, huh?"
Under each arm he carried cut bolts of fabric, heavy enough that he could only imagine the girl in front of him struggling with them the whole way. In her hands she had a list, or what he assumed was a list. He couldn't make heads or tails of the strange characters on that paper. Orihime seemed to know exactly what it all meant as she led them through the town.
Their customers were… kind, he'd admit. They reminded him of the older church ladies, the ones that always came with food for everyone and always let kids get first dibs. They greeted Orihime with smiles, and hugs, pinching her cheeks and asking about her brother.
They greeted him with playful grins and compliments.
"Such a strong young boy," one had said, "and so nice to help our sweet Orihime."
That one had offered him a sticky leaf-wrapped sweet, one that he shyly accepted as he dropped off the last order.
"They're always sho nice," Orihime said through a mouthful of roasted nuts. He was still working up the nerve to try his treat. "So, how was the first day?" she asked brightly. "I doubt it's as cool as being a sailor on the ocean, but it's got its perks!"
She was talkative, he noticed, but he supposed most were in comparison to him.
"It was nice," he said. "Thank you for this job."
"Eh?!" She blushed bright red. "Don't thank me! It was all my brother's doing, anyway. I'm just glad to have someone to help, with the cart being broken and all."
That explained how they usually got this done. "I could fix it," he offered. He could try, at least.
She shook her head, hands waving wildly. "You don't have to do that, really! The farmer said he'd have it fixed by tomorrow, anyway, so you don't have to worry about it!"
He cracked a smile, and after a moment he realized it was his first in over a month.
…
During his time at the shop Chad learned many things. He learned that time passed slowly in this place, "Soul Society". He learned that Kanji was difficult to learn, but not impossible. He learned that Death Gods roamed the lands, and occasionally stopped by at the local bar to play dice games.
More notably he learned things like this: Sora woke up bright and early every morning. Orihime woke up late and cranky.
Sora made a simple breakfast every morning. Orihime put her heart and soul into dinner every evening. No one had the heart to tell her anything other than "they loved it."
Silk was for special occasions. Cotton and hemp were for everything else. The seamstresses that gave the best snacks were the third and fifth ones, respectively.
Orihime smiled, even at the worst of times, even when she came back home soaked head to toe and crying when some neighborhood girls decided that it would be funny to see if the orange in her hair would wash off or not.
That had… made him feel a certain way.
"Back at home," he started slowly, as she toweled herself off, "when people would call me names. I'd punch them for it."
She'd laughed, and then shook her head. "I still can't imagine it."
"It's true," he said with a frown. She let out another giggle, letting the towel rest on her head.
"I don't think I could do that. I've never even thrown a punch before."
Chad shook his head. That wasn't what he meant. "There's nothing wrong with being different, even if others don't always see it that way."
Her eyes lit up, and for a moment they glistened before she buried herself in the towel once more. "Thanks," he barely heard. "I needed to hear that; I think."
It was one of the last pieces of wisdom his grandfather gave him, and saying it now felt right. It felt like the only thing he could do to make sure it didn't die out entirely.
(He wondered where his grandfather was, now.)
"I'm not sure where I got it," Orihime said quietly. "Sora doesn't have hair like this. Our mom, well at least I don't think she had hair like this…
"We grew up in a lower district. My mom, she used to sleep with men for money, and I'm pretty sure a lot of it went to feed me. I'm don't really know what happened to her. Sora always gets so sad when I try to ask him. All I know is that he worked very hard to get us to the Twenty-Fourth, where things weren't so bad. People are nice here."
She looked up at him then, smile back, and now it looked genuine.
"I'm really glad I was here to meet you, Chad."
He smiled back.
…
Time passed, a lot of time, Chad realized one day. It didn't feel that way.
In his mind he knew that by now he should have been a grown man, but he didn't feel like one. He didn't look it either, having only just begun to fill out his lanky frame. Orihime looked different, though. Her hair had grown. Her body was developing into that of a young woman's. Sometimes he felt childish next to her, even as he stood ever taller above her.
Days were spent much the same. Every day they worked. Every day he used his strength for something he hoped his grandfather would be proud of.
This morning they were meeting with a group of traders. A special shipment of cotton wool was coming in from out of town, something that could prove very lucrative in coming cold months. (No, Chad was still not used to this place's frigid winters.)
"Just a few more Ryō and that donkey is ours!" Orihime said with a grin. "Then it's goodbye to lugging around crates and hello to riding around in style!"
He shrugged under his burden, two sacks hefted over each shoulder. He didn't mind the lugging part much; he was glad to do it, really. Still, if Sora thought a work animal would help, he wouldn't argue.
"Really, though, you…" she trailed off uncharacteristically, eyes going to the distance. He stopped. "Do you feel that?" Sweat was beading on her forehead despite the cool breeze. Her breath stuttered. "Something's off."
She bolted forward, and for a moment Chad hesitated, only for a moment, though. He dropped the sacks and tore after her, hoping that they would still be there when he came back. She hadn't gone far, luckily. Just as he turned the corner to the shop, he saw her standing there, frozen at the scene in front of her. He reached her just in time to hear her yell–
"BROTHER!"
Heart pounding, he grabbed her, dragging her away before she could run forward. He held her fast to his chest, mind racing as he tried to make sense of what he just saw.
There was rubble. There was shrieking. Entire buildings had been levelled, and in the middle of it had been that… thing.
"El Diablo," he whispered to himself. That was the only explanation for it. Maybe he had been in hell all along, and it took him this long to realize it because that was what he saw.
That… creature, it had no face, just empty eyes and claws made of bone. Its head reached up to the sun as it stomped through homes and laughed. Those stomps were growing closer, he realized.
He ran.
He had little to no idea where he was going; he just knew he had to get away. Dragging Orihime behind him he rand like the wind, ignoring those awful noises coming from behind.
He nearly wrenched Orihime right off her feet when she stopped abruptly, looking up at him with desperate eyes. He didn't know what to say to her, what to even think, but when she urged him behind an abandoned fruit cart, he let her.
Her arms were clamped around him, trembling, but he didn't know why she clutched onto him so; he didn't understand what comfort he provided. In that moment he was convinced they were going to die, something that he hadn't even thought possible a minute ago.
The touch was warm. It hummed.
The creature's footsteps were drawing near, the few stragglers screaming as they ran. It stumbled by, nose in the air, and somehow, miraculously, it passed them over.
Then, it went still, slumped, and fell, a Shinigami grimacing as he drew his sword from the back of the creature's head. The man did not sheath his blade.
"You two alright?" He jogged over, eyes scanning.
Peeling himself away as much as he was willing, Chad nodded. The Shinigami sighed in relief.
"Those were some good instincts, girl. I've never seen someone put up a shield like that untrained."
Orihime shuddered, said nothing, and for a moment the Shinigami looked lost. "…Take her to the river," he ordered. "My teammates have set up a safe zone there. We'll handle this."
Chad nodded again, words escaping him entirely. He dragged his friend onto her feet and tried to ignore the implication that there were more of those things out there.
That day Chad found out that when you died in the Soul Society there was nothing left to bury afterward. They never saw Sora again. For days Orihime didn't smile and even worse, didn't cry. It was strange because this time around Chad found that he couldn't stop crying.
There was nothing left of the shop. A few of their belongings had made it, some of the money was stowed deep away enough that it hadn't gotten crushed. In the end they were reliant on the kindness of a seamstress whose home had been just outside of the destruction.
A week into their stay Orihime told him this:
"I asked one of the Shinigami what her partner meant when he said I put up a shield… I'm going to the Gotei Thirteen."
Before he even had time to process what she said he knew he was going with her.
She continued, "We have enough to pay our way to the First District hitching with some caravans. Then, it's just a matter of waiting out the winter and passing the entrance exam."
"You want to be a Shinigami," he said.
"Yes."
"When do we leave?" he asked.
"You don't–"
"I do," he said firmly.
She stared up at the ceiling, lip trembling, and he stayed with her as she cried through the night, feeling like he finally understood what his grandfather meant.
Can you tell this was entirely self indulgent? Why do these interludes always make me research history? I'll tell you something I didn't have to research! I'm half black and while I never beat up people in alleyways a lot of Chad's feelings are relatable. No I'm not projecting, shut up. Leave me a comment because they raise my self esteem.
