Disclaimer: I'll be frank with you. Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. I also do not own Pez. (Or whatever the company's called.)

Weeks had passed, and Ichigo's calendar bared marks for almost a month. He had never drawn on it before, but in this case it was as though he was counting however many days it took for his sanity to return.

Each new day brought little information, and Ichigo could only become more and more confused. Ishida was just a face, and when he had called him Uryu the one time he saw him, he was slapped. Chad had no recollection of any of the events Ichigo could've sworn had happened, and Inoue had no idea why Ichigo was so on edge.

At home, things were no different. His little sisters were a little concerned by the face that he no longer shouted like he had before, and always seemed to be deep in thought. It's was a change for everyone, but no one understood less than Ichigo.

To suddenly be transported into a reality that matched neither option you had grown used to would have to be tough. He had gone through several notebooks recording everything he could remember about the Soul Society, just in case he was robbed of other memories or something of the sort.

He'd watched endless hours of TV, he'd even played around with a bamboo stick, swinging it around out front. He'd earned himself some stares, but he was used to it now. There were so many things that were so different from how they had been before, and he was still puzzling over them.

Ever since he'd confronted Orihime with knowledge of Rukia, only to end up being the only one with memories, he'd stayed alone. He would go for walks in the rain, trying to sort through the mess he had felt that his life had become. Paired with the walks he would lay outside at night when the air was slightly brisk and smoke a cigarette. It was a nasty habit he had picked up to ease the stress, and had done everything in his power to keep it quiet.

This night in particular was one of the many he spent walking around. The rain created sheets along the windows of the buildings he passed, his hair and clothes matted to his skin. His breath came in short gasps as he slowed to a halt, hands on his knees. He'd been running after something, but it was something he couldn't pinpoint. It didn't matter anymore, as his muscles ached and protested further exertion.

He sank to a seat on a near-by bench, letting the rain fall onto his pale features. There were bags under his eyes from his sleepless nights, and he knew it had to stop soon, as school would be picking back up soon, and he didn't need to nod off in class or something stupid like that.

A passing car honked loudly at him, and he snapped his eyes open to wonder what was going on. For a moment he saw a flash of someone with red hair standing in the middle of the street, but it was gone as soon as it had come. Renji..? The chances weren't likely. It was probably just his mind playing tricks on him. Lord knows that it'd been doing a lot of that lately.

Like, just last week, he could've sworn he saw that little bubblegum haired girl Yachiru running around at the park. Or Byakuya paging through a magazine in front of a shop. In fact, he could almost guarantee that he wasn't imagining the jerk Ichimaru manning a Sashimi restaurant the other day. Something in his mind had dislodged itself and was screwing around with him. It wasn't funny. Far from it in fact.

He'd been shopping as well. He'd gone around buying whatever crap reminded him of anything in the Soul Society. He'd bought anything from an American made 'Pez Dispenser' that had a duck on it to a knife that oddly resembled Zangetsu. He'd placed everything in a box that was currently residing under his bed with the notebooks that he had filled.

Shaking off the image that had flashed before his eyes, he headed home, letting thoughts circulate through his head. What if Soul Society was a figment of my imagination, he mused for the umpteenth time, closing his eyes for a moment and letting the faces of everyone he'd met flash in the darkness that surrounded him. What if he'd made everything up? What if none of them actually existed?

Or worse, what if they did? How was he supposed to know? How was he supposed to fix what was going on? What if everyone existed, the Soul Society existed and Rukia was still facing her impending death? What would Ichigo be able to do? And which would he prefer? He honestly couldn't say.

He entered his house silently, creeping up the stairs and into the bathroom to rid himself of the smell of rain. He shed his clothing and once again inspected his un-marred body. No scars bigger than his pinky finger. Would he prefer to have dark scars crossing his body? He still couldn't say.

Stepping into the shower, he ran a hand through his orange locks. He was so confused. Nothing made sense, nothing. Nothing he did or could think of could compensate for the things he didn't understand, and it bruised his once soaring ego to know that as of this moment he was completely helpless. He couldn't gather his bearings long enough to explain to his father the reason for his strange behavior. If he needed to be around to save Rukia, then he wasn't fulfilling that duty either. He was instead letting the hot water of the shower relax his straining muscles and pull him into a coma of bliss for the moment.

The soap he grabbed to wash the dirt from his skin smelled like lavender and vanilla, scents he would've normally cursed himself for wearing. But once again, these were not normal times. He lathered the sweet-smelling substance across his chest, pausing for a moment above his heart. Was he even alive? Maybe he'd been killed, and this was a dream… He shrugged it off and allowed himself to be taken away by the comfort of his bathroom.

When he stepped out of the shower, he felt oddly refreshed. For the first time since he'd awoken to this place, he felt truly relaxed. Maybe he'd finally come to terms with the fact that it was hopeless to ponder so relentlessly over something so unbelievably confusing, or maybe he'd simply decided that he'd given up trying to understand it. Either way, he felt pleasantly numb as he slipped into his pajamas and lay under the covers of his bed.

The rain had stopped, and the storm was gone, but when he turned off his light he could've sworn there was a flash from outside his bedroom window. He went over to it and opened it, sticking his head into the damp night and looking about. No where that he looked could be accountable for the sudden burst of light, and after a few moments he simply let it slip from his mind and he returned to bed.

Just as he was drifting off, he could've sworn he heard something. He dismissed it, but then it came again. It sounded like a small thud on his desk. Sitting up and turning his head sharply to his window, he felt his breath catch somewhere deep in his throat.

There was a shadowed figure perched on one tabi-clothed foot, black grab wrapped about it's body and tied with a white sash. The unexplainable flash came again, illuminating the figures features.

Ichigo let a breathy gasp escape his lips as he stood, eyes wide and shocked. "Rukia…?"

Owari
Sorry. I know it's confusing, but it's meant to be that way. Sorry, but there simply is no explanation to what happened to Ichigo.