I debated whether to post this story or not for a few days. This is pure vent writing, this entire story. It has been a very difficult few weeks for me, and I vented it all out into writing. I had no direction with this, so it might seem a bit odd at points and I apologize. This isn't meant to be an actual story of any kind, it's just me writing something to make myself feel better and me sharing it for the sake of sharing it.
Hope it's not too bad!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Bleach or any of the affiliated characters used in this non-profit fictional story. They belong to both Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump magazine respectively. Please support the official release!
Why?
Looking back on his life, Ichigo felt a terrible sense of despair. In his twenty-two years of life, he couldn't think of a single thing worth living for. He had spent more than half of it just wandering from place to place, doing whatever was required of him in order to return to his room where he could sit alone with his thoughts. He couldn't think of anything he had done or that had happened to him that made it worth continuing on.
It hadn't always been like this. He had once been a bright and joyous child. There was nothing the world could offer that he hadn't been prepared to face. Nothing, of course, except for his mother dying.
It was a harsh blow to any nine-year-old, but especially to Ichigo and his family. She had been their foundation, their immovable source of happiness. At the center of whatever dysfunction they all had, his mother had been a shining beacon of love and warmth. To lose her was to lose the sun itself.
And that's what he had felt like. All the light and warmth from his life was gone. Taken from him when that car swerved onto the sidewalk and took his mother's life. What was a child to do after that? What was a child to feel after witnessing something like that?
Ichigo was hollow; his insides raw and painful. His heart and soul roared with a fire that burned him up from within, and he couldn't take it anymore. Smiling was off the table for him. All he had to offer the world was a scowl so deep there were already lines forming on his face at such a young age.
He had drifted through school, indifferent to the world around him. He had done what was necessary to pass, but not much more. He had made a few friends who helped distract him from the crippling depression that haunted him, but in the end, he hadn't kept in contact once high school was over.
He was alone now, and with no ambition. Every day was harder than the last. He didn't know where he was going and had no desire to go anywhere. So, all that left him was a simple question.
Why?
Why keep going? Why keep trying? Why make the effort when he knew it would be futile? When he thought of his future he felt nothing but pure dread. Would he have to live like this forever?
The answer seemed obvious.
The bottle of pills was easy to obtain. Being a university student, all he had to do was claim his stress and anxiety was out of control. The doctor didn't hesitate to hand him the means to which he'd end his suffering. Once the bottle was obtained, Ichigo made a beeline to his apartment and locked the door behind him.
It didn't take long. He thought he'd have to sit with his decision for a while, but thankfully he started feeling tired fairly quickly. He spread himself out over his bed on top of the blanket, shoes still on, staring at the ceiling in silence. Darkness started creeping in, and he knew it was time.
Goodbye, cruel world…
[~]
"A little cliché, don't you think?"
Ichigo's eyes snapped open, darkness surrounding him. He was still lying down, but he was no longer on his bed. He was on a hard, cold surface, fully clothed as he had been when he had lied down.
For some reason, he had expected to be naked. A weird thought, he realized now as he stood up. He surveyed his surroundings, finding himself in total darkness. Nothing in sight except the void. Was this the afterlife? Was this eternity?
"Only for those who deserve it," a voice replied to his inner thoughts.
Ichigo spun around, following the sound of the voice. There, standing a few feet away, was a cloaked figure. With their head down and their hood up, Ichigo couldn't make out their face, but he knew who they were. How could he not? He was fully aware of what he had done and knew there was only one person who would be there to greet him on the other side.
Death. The Grim Reaper. Ichigo had wondered what they would be like. Would they be an actual skeleton? That had been a terrifying image when he thought about it and hadn't been sure what he'd do or say when he came face-to-face with the proprietor of the end should that be the case.
Staring at them now, all he could think of to say was, "Are you here to take me away?"
The figure stepped closer, coming into perspective. Ichigo realized he was almost a full foot taller than the cloaked specter in front of him, and almost twice as wide. Was Death…?
In answer to his unspoken question, Death lifted the hood back to reveal their face.
Ichigo had been expecting a skeleton, or maybe some sort of abstract image in place of a head. He hadn't been expecting Death to be a beautiful woman.
Her hair was short, just barely passing her ears, and was as black as the world around them. Her skin was unearthly pale, glowing in the darkness. And her eyes… by God, her eyes were the most mesmerizing shade of violet he had ever seen in his life.
She was beautiful.
He was awestruck.
"It is my duty to guide those who have passed away from your world into mine," she spoke, her voice smooth and calm. "I would be the one to, as you put it, 'take you away.'"
A knot formed in Ichigo's stomach. He had wanted this, had craved this for years. He hadn't taken this whole thing lightly. He had put in at least a hundred hours' worth of thought into whether he should end his life or not. So why, all of a sudden, as he stared down Death herself, did he feel unease?
"Because, deep down, you know this wasn't what you truly wanted," she said.
"Are you reading my thoughts?"
"In a manner." She tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "It's more that I'm experiencing them."
Ichigo frowned. "What does that mean?"
"Your understanding of me is very basic," she replied. "I am not so simple that I would just plainly read your mind to know what you are thinking. I am spread throughout the universe, existing in every corner there is to exist in. I guide every soul that expires, all at once, and as I do I experience them through their own eyes. I become them, for a brief moment, in order to understand them. It helps to ease the process."
He wasn't entirely sure he understood, but he didn't really want to push it. What was the point? He would cease to exist in a few moments anyway.
"You are incorrect," she said, once again replying to his thoughts. "Your existence never ceases, even after death."
This brought a cold chill down his spine. Would he have to experience this pain for eternity?
"Where…" he struggled to find the words, to find even his voice. "Where do I go, then? If I am to continue existing, where do I go from here?"
She regarded him for a moment, quiet as her violet eyes took him in, as if she were trying to make a decision. He wondered if maybe she was looking into his soul, weighing his sins. If that was the case, then Ichigo knew exactly where he was headed, and it terrified him to his core.
"Your place is back on Earth, young man," she finally spoke. "Back to life."
Somehow, this answer seemed worse than he expected.
"W-What?" he sputtered. "But… I died! I'm dead! How could I go back?" He started to panic. "I can't go back!"
"And why can't you go back?" Death inquired, raising a delicate brow. This change in facial expression made the knot in Ichigo's stomach tighten. She almost looked like she was challenging him to argue with her, and instinct told him he should do no such thing.
Despite this, he went on.
"Because…" a lump formed in his throat, choking his words. Tears were threatening to spill, and he fought to keep them in. He didn't want to embarrass himself in front of the personification of death. "I can't do it anymore."
"Do what?"
"Life!" he snapped, his vision blurring with moisture despite his efforts. "I can't take the pain anymore. I can't handle the weight of my own emotions anymore. I feel too much, too harshly. I'm being suffocated by my own self, and I'm so tired of gasping for breath every time I wake up in the morning after a night of wallowing in myself. I want it all to end, for the pain to finally stop."
He paused, composing himself. He took in a shaky breath, willing his heart to calm and for the tears to dry. She waited, knowing there was more he had to say.
"Please," he begged, his voice small and pleading, "don't make me go back."
"You are convinced this pain you feel will be forever," she spoke after a moment's deliberation. For a moment he thought it was a question, but quickly realized it was a statement.
He knitted his brows, his face screwed tight in concentration to keep himself in check as he replied, "Pain like this doesn't just go away."
"No, it does not," she conceded, shaking her head. She gazed up at him, her eyes shining like stars with sympathy. It only made him feel worse. "No amount of pain can just disappear on its own. Scars are always left behind, no matter how great the healing."
"Then why force me to go back to it?" he croaked, feeling like he was going to collapse. The thought of living like that any longer made his knees weak. "Why force me to reopen these wounds?"
"Because even though the pain can be overwhelming, there is always something to live for."
Ichigo felt heat rise into his chest at her words, anger bubbling under his skin. "I have nothing!" he exploded. "I have absolutely nothing to live for! No friends, no future, nothing! What could I possibly want to go back for?"
"You may not have everything you desire now," Death replied calmly, undisturbed by his outburst, "but there is something you still have. Something every living creature shall always have until the end of time."
"And what is that?" he asked sourly.
"Hope."
Words escaped Ichigo as he stared at the petite young-looking woman in front of him. A single worded answer, so simple, and yet so loaded with its complexities. He hadn't expected that kind of answer.
"'Hope'?" he echoed. "You seriously think there's hope for someone like me?"
She tilted her head, seemingly confused by his inquiry. "There is hope for everyone, small or large, weak or strong. No matter what little you have, you will always have hope. Even you, who so clearly does not think he does. There is hope for you."
"How could-"
"Enough," she interrupted him. "This is pointless. You are to return to the world of the living, and you shall not remember any of this, as none do who come to my realm."
Ichigo felt like he had just been slapped in the face by her words. He wouldn't remember any of this? "If I won't remember this, then how am I supposed to know there's hope for me? What's to stop me from trying again?"
Suddenly, Death smiled at him. He was struck by the beauty of it. "Hope."
Ah, he thinks, feeling a bit played. So that's how it is.
From behind him, he felt warmth. Something seemed to be reaching out to him, attempting to drag him back. The hairs on the back of his neck rise at the sensation. He doesn't look, though. He keeps his amber eyes locked solely onto her.
"I hope you're right," he said, a bit quippy.
"I'm always right."
"I should have guessed you'd be wise," he remarked, feeling a need to bid farewell as the warmth started to engulf him completely. It felt as if he'd known her for a lifetime, even though it couldn't have been more than minutes since his arrival. "I just didn't think you'd be so… beautiful."
"This isn't my true form," she said, shaking her head. "I take the face of the one most important to whomever I am meeting with to put them at ease."
His brow furrowed at this. "But… I don't know you. I've never seen that face before."
Another smile graced the face Death wore. "You will," she said. "Remember what I said? There is always hope."
Ichigo felt himself being pulled back, his consciousness wavering. His mind starts to fuzz over, and he knows he's about to wake up, about to be alive again.
"Remember this as well," Death's voice echoes to him, seemingly directly into his mind as he floats backward. "A parting gift, in the name of hope. A name. The name of the one who will give you the hope you require."
"What is it?" he asked, his eyes closing as he started to fall.
"Rukia."
Ichigo wasn't sure when it was he actually woke up, but he was certain that it was a mistake. Once he was able to gain a modicum of focus, he immediately felt the sensation of spinning. Nausea roiled in his stomach, his skin feeling just a tad too tight on his bones. He had the mother of all hangovers.
It took some effort to open his eyes, and it had turned out to be another mistake. The light of the midday sun nearly blinded him, a thumping at the center of his skull making itself known in response to the ocular assault. He struggled to turn his head away from the window from where the light blasted in and attempted to take in his surroundings.
Although his eyes were blurry and his mind was fuzzy, Ichigo could easily recognize the hospital room he was in. Pristine white, multiple loud monitoring machines surrounding him, and eerily lonely – this could only be a hospital.
He felt like he had been run over by a semi-truck. He could barely move, and with each passing second he felt the need to vomit. His dizziness seemed to have plateaued at least, having turned away from the harsh lights above him, giving him a small break. Everything else was just trash.
How did I get here?
His memories were jumbled. He remembered being in his apartment, self-loathed and despondent, thinking thoughts he knew he shouldn't be thinking. And then…
There was something between this moment and the one where he was in his apartment that he couldn't quite fathom. He remembered grabbing the pill bottle, swallowing its contents whole, and then… something. It was like trying to grasp at a fleeting dream. A ghost of a memory, moving on, never to be seen again. There was something there, but he couldn't quite remember it.
For some reason, it felt important.
"Oh!" a voice startled him, having snuck up to his side without his notice. "You're awake."
Ichigo shifted his focus from the spot on the floor he had been staring dazedly at to the woman who had entered the room so quietly the beeping of his heart monitor had drowned her out. Standing over his bed was a nurse, dressed in light purple scrubs and plain white sneakers – worn for comfort in her long shifts no doubt. She had hair as dark as a starless night styled into a clean bob-cut. Her eyes were a mesmerizing shade of violet unlike anything he had ever seen before.
He was stunned.
She's so beautiful.
Something about seeing her created a strange feeling in his chest. It was familiar, yet foreign. He couldn't place a time in his life he'd felt anything like it, yet a part of him trusted that he had. She gazed down at him with kind eyes, the shock of his consciousness having passed, and spoke with a voice befitting a trained professional.
"How are you feeling, Kurosaki-san?"
Ichigo caught sight of her name badge, the Karakura Hospital employee identifier hanging around her neck by a pale blue lanyard.
Kuchiki Rukia.
The name, strangely, brought him comfort. He wasn't sure why.
"I'm…" his voice was groggy and hoarse as he spoke. He suddenly realized he was parched. "I'm a bit thirsty."
"That makes sense," Rukia the nurse said, nodding her head. "Let me get you a bottle of water."
She was only gone for a minute, maybe two, but he felt a longing so strong that it made it feel like hours. When she returned, water bottle in hand, he felt relief.
He wrote it off as not wanting to be alone in his current state.
"Here you are," she helped him lift his head to take small, slow sips of the water. Her hands were gentle as she cradled his head, her long fingers tousling his hair. The first thing his newly acquired hydration provided him was a flush to his cheeks.
"Thank you," he said, his voice a bit stronger this time.
"No need for thanks," she gave him a dazzling smile. He hoped she hadn't heard the blip in his heart rate on the monitor. "I notified the doctor that you're awake, so she should be in very soon."
"Okay."
"You gave everyone a big scare," she remarked, her tone light but her stare pointed. "That was quite the stunt you pulled."
"Ah," was all he could manage to say.
"The doctor will fill you in on the details," she continued, undisturbed, "but bottom line is that we had to pump your stomach of all those pills you ingested. You nearly didn't make it, which broke the hearts of your adorable little sisters who have been here every day since you came out of surgery. Your father as well." She gave him another pointed stare. "They have all been very worried about you."
Ichigo felt like he was being given the lightest reprimand for having tried to kill himself. It was almost funny. He felt like he deserved to be smacked, yelled at, have things thrown at him, and yet here she was giving him a speech with the softest voice he'd ever heard.
Despite the situation, he felt calm.
"I know," he found himself replying.
Rukia continued to stare at him for a moment, as if debating whether to say something else or not on the topic. Instead, she quietly moved around the bed to check his vitals. He watched as her violet eyes danced back and forth as she inspected the monitors, looking for inconsistencies in his heart rate. As she moved about, Ichigo couldn't help himself. His mouth just moved on its own.
"You're beautiful."
She paused, her eyes flitting between him and the clipboard she had picked up from the bottom of his bed. A quick wave of red washed over her cheeks, and she gave him a small smile.
"Thank you," she said. "You're not so bad yourself, strawberry."
Her tone was teasing, her jab at the meaning of his name playful.
For the first time in an awfully long time, Ichigo felt something swell within him. Something warm and comfortable. Something terrific.
Hope.