Disclaimer: I most certainly do not own Bleach or any of it's characters. However, I do own the character that Uryu represents seeing as how he represents "Keitaro" who is the main character in the book I am writing. :D

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A/N: It is now time for you to keep in my that this is my first fanfiction, though it isn't exactly a fanfiction since it wasn't written out of adoration for anything... Yes, written on a whim. Not really, though. This is actually straight out of the book I'm writing -- "Uryu" is a cover name for my character because I felt compelled to post my writing somewhere and couldn't quite post it here without it having some sort of reference to something... so I picked Bleach since it is one of those shows that I watch almost religiously.
Alright, enough of my pointless ramblings. Enjoy! and review, damn it. I'm posting it for a reason and that's to have my writing criticized, pulled apart, analyzed mercilessly. So do your job and give reasonable reviews.
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My name is Ishida Uryu. Most people call me Keitaro. This nickname given to me by my past consociates means "blessed" but that is what I have learned that I'm not. I am one of the two people that the town despised, one of the two people that it had tried to rid itself of, the only person that it did rid itself of without bringing me to die.

Did I do anything to deserve being banished as I was? No. A criminal act was not necessary. To think differently than my fellow townspeople was all it took. It was because of this controversy over beliefs that my family's history was pulled into the mess. All mishaps involving what used to be my immediate family then somehow became my fault. I was suddenly responsible for my mother's unfortunate death, my father's drastic change afterwards, and then his eventual death.

These burdens that were so suddenly and so wrongly thrown upon my shoulders soon overpowered the spark of hope within me. This hope was that the town in which I resided would forgive me for whatever I did… or, more accurately, whatever they thought I did.

Yes, my hope was in vain. I know that now; for I am telling you this as I walk away from the place that I had once been able to call my home. I walk away now knowing that I will never look back and never return…

Smoke rose eerily blanketing the once clear night sky. I could only hope that it was not the home of someone I knew, though my luck had proven itself to be useless or, more likely, nonexistent many times in the past. See, my town, Chaim, had its traditions and rituals just like any other place in the world. One such "tradition" included sacrifices. No, not the kind that involved the public torture and eventual death of a person – that would be simple blasphemy. Chaim was a town where "sacrifice" meant to merely burn down someone's home. What if someone were to die in the process? Okay, it didn't really matter. The purpose was not to take life but to frighten it by reminding it that being taken was indeed a possibility.

The concept was sickening, and I grew more remorseful as I listened to the unfaltering wails of a girl within the burning house. No one could help her, and I knew that very well. To save someone from the sacrifice of their home was strictly forbidden. I also knew that, even if it were permitted, not one person would volunteer their help. Almost every person inhabiting Chaim was as heartless as a person of the living dead.

I turned to my mother who was sitting silently behind me.

"Mother--" I began helplessly.

"Uryu," she said simply yet sharply, making me bite back my inquiring words. Her rust-colored locks fell across her eyes as she looked away. Her attempt to hide her tear-ridden eyes was in vain; for, I saw her blue eyes shining with new-forming tears. She had always been oddly emotional during the town sacrifices. The reasons for this were left unknown to me. Though I would ask countless times, my mother did not see it fit to burden her only child with her troubles concerning the past. In the past, her lack of explanation often left me feeling betrayed. I often thought, "Does she truly believe that she is unable to trust me with her problems?"

I was wrong to think that. Her thoughts were for her to know. They were hers to share—to express—when she felt that she was ready to. Judging by her still continuing silence, that time had not yet come.

After a moment, she looked up at me and gave me a reassuring smile to signal that she was fine—that there was no need for me to worry about her or question her. With that, she stood and walked into our own home with a sigh of relief. Relief because it was not our home being sacrificed, but someone else's.

With my mother no longer present, I began to ask myself question. Out loud, mind you.

"Whose house was it tonight? The scream… that voice seems so familiar to me. Could it really be someone that I know? No… it just couldn't be…" I shut my eyes in an attempt to somehow clear my mind of all unorganized thoughts. My face tilted up toward the sky, I slowly opened my eyes. Before I realized it, silence had blanketed the night. My eyes drifted their focus to the direction of the once burning house only to see faint hints of smoke begin to disappear. The house was now a sight of ruins—of ashes and pain.

A sad sigh escaped me as I walked into my home—into its comforting warmth, its comforting existence. The townspeople controlling the system of sacrifice would also apologize to all for causing yet another death in the morning. This was part of the "tradition". Burn a house, accidentally increase the town's number of casualties for the year, and give a pathetic apology the following day. Of course, the apology's purpose would be not to offer solace but to patronize the mourning mercilessly and indirectly. It was the way of this place that I'm forced to call home.

No need to jump to conclusions about Chaim, though. If not for the townspeople behind the sacrifices, it could possibly have been a decent place to inhabit. It's buildings were cleverly built of excess stone supplied by a nearby and forgotten mine. The people in general (meaning not as individuals) were fairly nice to others but only if necessary. They were all the kinds of people that would tend to be more reserved. I suppose it would be safe to say that Chaim was the sort of place that could be mistaken for me when described.

It was a place of intelligence, though the intelligence was not flaunted mercilessly. It was a city worth being called "cute" because, though cleverly made, the buildings were all fairly small. It was located deep within wherever you'd interpret to be the middle-of-nowhere to be, yet it was not unreachable. It was a pleasant quiet, but was filled with easy conversation. It was "sarcastic" in a sense, but not to the point of cruelty. It was strong with military-like forces, but had restraint. It was friendly with reserves.

That was Chaim, and that is me. Funny how I can say I hated the place that was just like me...

No matter how much Chaim was similar to myself, there were differences. The closemindedness of the place was what got to me. It was a place purely based on tradition. To get rid of the aspect would "surely destroy the base on which the town was built upon", as the leaders would say. My response to that has always been the same and will always remain the same: "Do you not think that what you have done as the leaders of Chaim has made the place strong enough to withstand the removal of what you call the base? You should have more confidence in your work."

It was as though the town could simply not go on without being able to ruin or end the lives of others. Such a pathetic place, eh? I would say so, but to an extent. For me to say that it is an entirely pathetic place would be a lie, and lying is something that I look down upon. The highlight of the town? What decreases its level of deplorability? Well, I suppose I could say that the education is of high value, but why say that when there is much more to the place than that? Chaim was an estimable town in the sense that it would wholeheartedly defend itself and beliefs. Yes, wholeheartedly despite the heartlessness of all who would fight. It was not a place that would back down from anyone or anything -- quite admirable, but, again, to an extent. Admirable promptly becomes disgraceful when the townspeople become too ignorant and fail to see that losing a dispute over beliefs is inevitable. Ignorance, however, is bliss, but only if you are ignorant. No worries for Chaim, though. I'm certain that it is free of sensible people, excluding myself from that count.

These descriptions of Chaim make it seem as though stopping the use of sacrifice as tradition would be a simple task. Believe me, it actually should be simple, and it would be if not for the fact that I am alone in this assignment. Finding a way to cease such destruction of resources and life has been on my mind for over six years. If only I could find a companion, someone who thinks as I do, if only such a person could actually exist in this godforsaken place...

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Your favorite part (and mine a well) of reading stuff comes up now. Exactly. Time to review what you have just read. Simple task? I think so. So far, I happen to like my story. To me, it has a lot of voice. Of course, here, my opinion counts for nothing. That's where you come in.
Why are you still reading this part? Go and review! You're doing a poor job if you insist on reading my ramblings instead of doing what you have been assigned, silly child.
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