Chapter Four: Haunting

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach. Obviously.

Nnoitra woke up with a splitting headache, threatening to incinerate his brain cells to the last one and burn a hole in his cranium. It felt as if he had chunk down a whole bottle of whiskey on an empty stomach and now his organism was punishing him severely for this ill-judged whim. A sizzling hot metal rod jabbed in his skull now seemed like a far more pleasant option, compared to the pain he was experiencing.

He lay in bed, his eyes shut tight, hopelessly trying to quell the raging storm inside his head. He could sense the morning sunlight illuminating the room through its small window; if his bed wasn't positioned away from the window, the sunlight would have surely burned a painful red image in his eye sockets. Nnoitra turned restlessly, trying to fall asleep again, but the agonizing pulsation in his brain was preventing him from doing so. He groaned angrily and stood up abruptly in his bed, trying to shake the pain away. It just made it worse.

Nnoitra placed a hand on his forehead, then slid it down to cover his eyes. He sighed gloomily. He kicked the bed sheets away and settled his feet on the ground. When he stood up, the entire world swayed and span dangerously underneath him. Nnoitra reeled in his bed before he could fall prostrate on the bare floor. The headache seemed to be getting worse by the second. He slapped his forehead angrily, as if trying to beat the pain out of his head. He gritted his teeth furiously at his helplessness.

It was one of those times again when he felt that invisible, intangible force taking control over his world, twisting it and distorting it into abominable shapes, just to make his life worse than it already was. It was his own consciousness that was causing this; his guilty, weak, frail human consciousness, injured for God-knows-what reason and triggering off this nightmarish chain of pain that made living unbearable. Nnoitra had the morbid thought that he was being punished for something. But what could it possibly have been, he didn't know. Did God suddenly get pissed off because he didn't go to that shitty interview? Or maybe he was dealing out judgment because he couldn't wash the nasty glitter in his hair off? Fuckin goddamn shit, whatever it was, he fuckin hated it!

He rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes again. The world slowed down to its regular pace and a few minutes later everything was back to normal. His head was still pounding, as if his heart and brain had switched places, but at least it didn't feel like he was sitting in a spinning chair. He dared part his eyelids and explore his surroundings and he was granted with the relatively comforting sight of his room in all of its blandness and greyness. Nnoitra stood up carefully, his eyes fixed in the ground, cautious not to let it slip away under his feet again, and trod towards the bathroom.

He pushed the door open with his elbow and got inside. He turned the water on and let it run for a few seconds, waiting for it to get as cold as possible, then he cupped his hands and splashed some on his face. His inner world surfaced into a more bearable level of reality. The pain in his head was starting to fade away bit by bit. Nnoitra stared at the sink with half-open eyes as the water was dripping from his wet locks. The water was running down the drain, disappearing without a trace in the siphon, carrying several of his long hairs with it towards their sewerage doom.

"Just like my life." Nnoitra muttered inaudibly. He splashed some more water on his face, ran his wet fingers through his oily hair and tossed it back. For him, it was a satisfactory substitute for a shower. If anyone had a problem with it, they could talk to his fist about it. He walked out of the bathroom with his wet hair shrouding his face like the Grim Reaper himself and groped around the top shelf of the wardrobe next to the bathroom door for a clean towel. His long, spider-like fingers gripped viciously around the first one that came under their touch: a grayish-purple towel with a daisy theme so ragged and with colors so faded out that one might have taken it for something rummaged out of the dumpster. Nnoitra had the habit to make use of absolutely anything till it disintegrated in its hands. And that towel still had a long way to go. Nnoitra put it down to his inborn practical approach towards anything in life and desire to exploit it to its fullest and off-handedly rejected the possible cause being his stinginess.

Nnoitra wrapped the ugly cloth around his head and set out to search for clean underwear. He slapped on some boxers and put on the trousers and the shirt with the same lack of exactingness. Nnoitra wasn't the picky type when it came to anything associated with the body and he care-freely transformed his total lack of fashion taste into his own unique way of dressing. If asked about his view on fashion, he'd sputter out something resembling 'an unimaginative motive for conformism and social assimilation', but thankfully no one was suicidal enough to nag at him for his inability to dress like a normal person.

He padded to the kitchen on his naked feet, took some cereal and milk from the fridge, mixed the food up in a bowl and started spooning it hungrily. As he was having breakfast, uninvited memories from yesterday started coming back to his head. The interview, the accident, the green-haired woman and her elderly uncle, the hospital, the strange conversation he had had with Shou and Neliel, Sosuke Aizen's arrival, the unhappy, burlesqued family reunion that happened at the wrong time in the wrong place in front of the wrong people. It left a bad taste in Nnoitra's mouth, making the cereal seem stale and tasteless. He tried to suppress the images from that unsightly scene but they just kept returning and flashing across his eyes in forms that started differing from the original. Nnoitra's mind was warping them into grotesque pictures, transforming Sosuke Aizen into a crimson giant with an incinerating gaze, Shou – a pallid lifeless zombie and Neliel – a blood-stained angel with chopped off wings, curled in a ball and wailing like a tortured spirit.

He shook his head and pulled the reins on his mind. It was getting ridiculous. He was being plagued by something that wasn't concerning him in the slightest. What those fuckers did to each other behind closed doors didn't bother him. Sosuke could be raping his own daughter for all Nnoitra cared.

Alright, maybe that was a little too extreme, even for Nnoitra to remain unaffected. The faint shade of guilt that was cast across his conscience was enough to make him take his thoughts back. He gulped down the last drop of his breakfast and strode to the fridge, swung the door open and scrutinized its contents. No eggs, no tomatoes, running low on cheese… shit. And the cheese seemed to be getting more expensive by the week. He picked his wallet on his way out, put on some sandals casually and walked out of his apartment.

Busy streets as usual. This town didn't seem to sleep even this early in the morning. Most of the shops were already open, merchants selling small souvenirs had already set up their goods on show for curious and unsuspecting tourists who'd buy it here without knowing that there was a shop down the street selling all of the stuff here for half the price. Nnoitra was strolling carelessly, passing by other pedestrians, cyclists and people jogging steadily without bothering to look at them. The cool morning breeze was stroking his sides gently but Nnoitra didn't feel it. He was still walking through the crowd in a stupor, in a direction that was supposedly where the market was.

It's not like it was so important. Food. He'd go without it for another day or two. It's just that he didn't want to spend more time in that small, horrifying box called his apartment. It invoked too many unpleasant memories for him. Whenever he took a look around the walls, he still had the feeling that the dust layer on some places was thinner than on others. It still had the barely noticeable shape of a square. Like a portrait. The wall to the left of his bed was still unoccupied by furniture and it left a painfully noticeable space, as if it spoke that something was supposed to stand there but had gone missing. Or was lost.

And to think that so much time had passed since then…

Nnoitra's behavior was out of the ordinary no matter in what surroundings you place him. He was always snappish and quick-tempered, there was also an air of uneasiness and neuroticism about him, as if he expected that something was going to come get him. Even in his own home he felt uneasy. If someone ever came to visit, he'd notice that Nnoitra never looked straight at any of the objects in the room. His eyes may be pointed in their direction, but his gaze was going through them, just like one would not look a person on bad terms with in the eyes. There was a green two-seater couch facing the TV occupying the small area used as the living room. Nnoitra always sat on the right side and never on the left. He didn't even lay down or rest his hands on the left side. His limbs and body would reposition themselves almost reflexively away from the left side of the couch and he wouldn't even pay attention to this action. It was also weird how come there were stains from pizza sauce, beer and coffee on only his side of the couch and the other side was completely spotless. Nnoitra wasn't the fastidious, hygiene-obsessed type, so he'd always make a mess of his home whenever he had the chance, but it was striking how he had somehow evaded dirtying just the left side of his couch. Nnoitra's character was as conducive to studying as a spider was disposed to learning Cossack dances, thus leaving this quirk of his a mystery.

Nnoitra stumbled onto the market before he knew it. He went inside and restlessly strode through the lines of various groceries, stopping briefly to pick an item, take a look at the expiring date and toss it in the basket. The speakers were playing 'Lucky Love' by Ace of Base quietly, setting Nnoitra's chronically strained nerves on fire again. There were people everywhere in here. Mothers were pushing shopping carts with their little ones riding inside them, old folks were moving around with baskets full of groceries, young girls in the market's uniform and silly hats were offering samples and there was Nnoitra was eyeing everyone around him with a frown, as if provoking them to start a fight with him. This place was crawling with people. He never felt comfortable with so many people walking around; there was too much movement. Too much sound. Too much life. Listening to complete strangers talking to each other was annoying him to great degree for a reason even he couldn't understand clearly. Nnoitra snorted in detestation when he saw a teenager filling up a cart with overprized packs of potato chips. Stupid brat! He'd get around when he gets too fat to pass through the entrance door of his house.

He made a turn to the line with the oil and sugar and his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he saw a familiar figure. God fuckin damn it! Why the fuck here of all places!? And why the fuck did it have to be so soon!?

Shou Aizen was strolling slowly with a half-full basket of apples and glancing randomly at the prices of the commodities. Nnoitra recoiled and held back a gasp of surprise before he hid behind the shelf. He gritted his teeth angrily and cursed his own luck. Nnoitra was not a strict believer in higher forces such as God or fate, but he was on his way to becoming one. Why the hell was this man shopping here when his home, or whatever's left of it, is at least two miles away from here? And shouldn't he be lying on a bed, resting and recuperating from the shock he had yesterday? Surviving a near-death experience and getting in a fight with his brother all in one day would tell on one's nerves considerably. Though, if Nnoitra thought about it more carefully, that man was living an outcast's life, so the only one he could depend on even in a dire situation like this one was himself. How deplorable. As sad as it was, Nnoitra didn't have the slightest intention of associating himself with this man and his family again. One hell of a day in the company of the Aizens was more than he could bear.

He turned around and walked a roundabout way to the check-out as quickly as possible, praying that he didn't bump into him on the way out by another freakish chance. To his utmost relief, the queue was a very short one, which meant that he'd be out of the building in less than two minutes. There was an old woman with a basket brim-filled with groceries before him, which made Nnoitra release a deep sigh. He was fidgeting in his place, moving his eyes around nervously and starting violently whenever he heard a voice resembling Shou's hoarse tone. His paranoia was acting up again, he'd probably mistake some random person for Neliel's uncle any time now.

Nnoitra didn't realize when his turn came and the cashier was tapping his fingers impatiently for Nnoitra to settle his basket on the pay-desk. Just as the cashier was about to give him the bill when he heard a horrifyingly familiar voice calling his name somewhere behind him.

"Nnoitra!"

The person in question felt his blood turning to ice cubes. "Ignore him. Pretend that you didn't hear him." His heart raced fast in his chest and his hands started trembling, nearly causing him to drop his wallet on the floor. He gave the lad the money quickly and strode towards the exit with his goods, trying to remain as composed as visually possible.

"Don't run. You can't hear him, you're busy dealing with your own shit."

"Nnoitra!" The voice came again, this time from noticeably closer distance.

"Don't fuckin run, or else you'll give yourself away!"

He was walking straight ahead, not daring to turn his head or look around, lest he met that old man's greenish-grey gaze. The street was lying open in front of him, but the distance to his home now seemed incalculably long. He sped up his tread.

"Nnoitra!"

A hand rested heavily on his shoulder.

"God fuckin damn it!" Nnoitra swore mentally and whirled around in place.

Same hair, same eyes, same senile expression, even the same clothing. Did he even bother to take a shower from that explosion yesterday? In fact, did he even live anywhere now or was he slouching about the streets without a roof on his head?

Shou Aizen's face wrinkled in a broad smile.

"I've been calling you for five minutes, but you seemed to be too busy to hear me."

"Yeah… something like that." Nnoitra drawled dubiously.

The old man gave Nnoitra a fatherly pat on the shoulder and lined up next to him.

"The goods they sell here seems to be cheaper than anywhere else." Shou shared his observations with Nnoitra as they walked down the street. "And to think that most supermarkets overtax their goods."

Nnoitra, who was paying little to no attention to anything the old fart was saying right now, glanced at his bag. It was full of apples. At least two kilos of apples.

"That's a lot of apples." Nnoitra shared his observations in return. "Like eating healthy food?"

"Not exactly." Shou shook his head and smiled. "I'm buying all of these for my Neliel. She loves apples."

"I don't think she'll be able to eat that much."

"Now, now, there's nothing that can fix you up better than some good fruit when you're ill. Plus, I'll feel calmer knowing that Neliel eats things picked by my hand, rather than whatever grub they serve at the hospital."

"Yeah, you may never know." Nnoitra murmured nonchalantly. "Now, you see, there is this—"

"I'm sorry that you had to see what happened yesterday." Shou said sadly. "My brother can't hold his temper at times, especially when I'm in the same room he is."

Nnoitra pursed his lips and remained silent. Yesterday's acquaintance with Neliel Aizen was ruined with her father's untimely arrival. Though his impression of Neliel was overall a fairly good one, Sosuke's violent attitude towards his brother left a permanent black mark in Nnoitra's memory. Nnoitra felt a bad taste in his mouth after witnessing that scene, as if he had discovered someone's secret or peeked in somebody's private life, which, technically speaking, he pretty much did. Or, to be more precise, he was forced to see it. A small piece of the life of the Aizen family. It was unfortunate that someone as good-tempered as Neliel shared the same blood with this maniac. It was now when Nnoitra started asking himself how his conversation with Neliel would have continued back then if her dad hadn't barged in the room like a typhoon of bad news.

"Her father is so excessively cruel at times. He thinks that he is teaching her something right now, but all he is doing is widening the gap between himself and Neliel. She needs to have people around her. People she can trust."

'Which is why you're going back there with all them apples, despite the risk of having your ass kicked by your deranged brother again.' Nnoitra thought skeptically.

"Nnoitra, Neliel has very few people she can rely on. Unfortunately, my strengths won't be enough to be by her side all the time. I will be very happy if you visit her from time to time."

Oh, fuck. Shit just hit the fan. Exactly what Nnoitra was fearing the old man would ask of him. He raised his hands and spoke hurriedly:

"Look, old man, you're seriously getting me mixed up for the—"

"You saved her. You are someone who risked his life for a complete stranger and someone who helped me when I was the weakest. You brought hope into our lives. Neliel looks up to you, she thinks you are something far better than what you state to be. She'd like to get to know you, to befriend you, if you will.

Nnoitra nearly fainted when Shou got to the 'looking up to you' part. Holy fuck, what did he get himself in, what did he get himself in!? These people were clutching onto him like a bothersome parasite and didn't want to let go! Wasn't it obvious enough that he wasn't some sweet, gentle boy or a noble, sophisticated gentleman who'd toss aside his personal affairs and tactfully lend a hand to a lady in need? He had already made it clear to Neliel that he was regretful for getting himself stuck in this rescuer bullshit and all the emotional crap that came with it. It was a painful experience to deal with someone as awe-struck as Neliel and her uncle because they were fancying an image of Nnoitra that was a total opposite of his true character and didn't even exist in him. Familiarizing themselves with him would destroy that naïve impression they had made on Nnoitra and would cause much pain and disappointment on their part as much as on Nnoitra's. Nnoitra hated disappointing others not because of the guilt that came with failing to justify their expectations, but because of the way they acted towards him.

They always seemed to pity him.

But then again, his neglectful nature was probably causing him to belittle the matter at hand. How much had he changed the life of those people? If he had ignored Shou's cries back then and ran like everyone else did, these people would probably be in the morgue right now, waiting for Sosuke Aizen to come and recognize the corpses of his unfortunate daughter and wretched brother. An intervention in someone else's personal life at the right time and moment had triggered a radical change, it had set their course on a new path of life. It was only natural that those two admired him so much.

Nnoitra looked at the elderly man with all the silent remonstrance and irritation he could muster.

"I'll see what I can do." He stressed that the conversation is over.

Shou smiled with raised hopes and nodded.

"I'll let the receptionist know that you might come by. The visiting hours are from 2 to 4 PM. She's still in the same room as last time, so you won't have any trouble finding her."

He bid Nnoitra goodbye and left. Nnoitra watched Shou make a turn down the street and disappear when he realized hew as seething with anger and being overtaken by a mood even darker than the first one. He swore through his gritted teeth and felt like killing somebody. He felt like he had been ripped off, like he had made a deal which he was going to regret for a very long time.

Some people were just suited to be heroes and Nnoitra had a clear insight that he didn't rank among them. Those fuckers were just attention whores who'd go out of their way under the pretext of being humane or righteous to give Natural selection or Fate the finger by saving some moron who was either too fuckin stupid or too fuckin unlucky to live. And they would even die for their sake! Overlook the possibility that you might get yourself killed; how do you deal with life if you survive!? You're no longer your old normal self, you're now some inflated superman-like figure in the eyes of the public, especially the person whose life you saved. You get glorified and respected and all that shit, but does this one single deed justify what you are and what you have been in the rest of your time? Is it an impossibility that a sadistic husband who beats his wife black and blue every night he gets back pissed drunk from the bar actually jumps in the way of a car to push a little girl out of harm's way? And what about an ill-disposed father who has had his daughter taken away from him by his divorced wife due to child abuse who jumps in a river to save a drowning woman? Would that also be deemed impossible to happen? Bad people who are suddenly idealized and hailed as heroes know very well that they don't deserve this; their conscience and memories are gnawing them about it. Nnoitra would have preferred if he had died while trying to get Neliel and her uncle out of the building, or at least shortly after he had rescued them. That way people would praise and look up to him all they wanted… hell, they could even build him a fuckin statue. What did he care; he was fuckin dead! He wouldn't be able to stand all the hubbub and attention he was receiving about his feat, all the stupid awestruck faces that gazed at him radiantly, all those morons who thought they knew him just because he had saved one tiny little life when there were hundreds of people dying across the world every day and he couldn't do shit about it. If he ever made it out of this mess with his nerves still intact, he'd run away to the mountains and live a hermit's life far away from all those filthy human beings who didn't wish to leave him alone.

But there was that pang of guilt back then. He was afraid to leave those people. His fucked up personality had left him in a lose-lose situation where he'd either have to spend the rest of his life being haunted by those desperate, horrified old eyes and those clouds of dust and rubble or get squashed by the burden of this fake image that was dumped upon him. Acting morally seemed the best thing to do back then, it was a small flicker that illuminated the black bog which was his conscience. He had chosen the lesser evil but now he was dubious if he had picked correctly.

No, no. He was obviously exaggerating things. It had to be the right choice. The nightmares would hunt him forever, while the fuss, useless worship and forced socialization would only last temporarily. Hopefully, people were prone to forgetting the good things far too quickly and easily than the bad ones, which meant that no one would even remember his face in a month's time. All he had to do by then was grit his teeth and try not to explode in someone's face.

He let out a frustrated groan and walked with his food back home.

From the Author: So much for this chapter. My semester's starting in a week, which means that I'll be writing far less from now on (if that's even possible). I'll try to make use of my free time to write an idea or two down, probably organize them into a readable chapter and hopefully, update.

Reviews, please! Reviews!