This is the last chapter, which I wrote a long while ago. This fic just became rather warped in the end, but I figure I should simply post what I have and move away. Next I'll likely post another update to my Karin-centric fic, Long Way to Goodbye, if anyone's following it (and people should--it's good, trust me).
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
---
It is a desolate place. Black skies allow almost no light to penetrate through, but it is probably best that the memories of better times cannot be so easily seen. Perhaps the fallen buildings wished for the cover of darkness and desired to vanish from the face of the earth. Perhaps not.
What is most bizarre about this place is that, despite the sun being denied a chance to illuminate the countless ruined houses of old, it is still possible to make out the outlines of this decrepit graveyard. This is due to hundreds--thousands--of pale orbs spread across the area that each radiate their own dim glimmer of light. Actually, calling these things orbs would not be precise; it would be more suitable to call them constantly changing and shifting shapes. In any case, the form of these sources of light are of no importance because they are never stable.
It is only necessary to note that they exist and that they should not exist.
Exactly how long this place has been enshrouded in the dark is impossible to determine. Precisely why these fragments of light float about like falling leaves is even more incomprehensible. Looking at the dead city, it seems as though the morphing balls of light will stubbornly remain for all eternity.
However, all this is about to change. And soon.
Silently, a completely different phenomena moves close to the rotting place. Not only is this new shape moving without noise, it is almost as though it touches nothing; none of the crumbling pieces of black rock it passes over even stir. Being an embodiment of darkness, the opposite of the fading glimmers populating this dark land, there is no way to note this unusual existence. It makes no noise, has no scent, cannot be felt and is a shadow among shadows in the desolate place.
But it is still there, no matter how hard the lingering memories of this dying place try to deny it.
--
4. Shadow of the World
--
He isn't sure when it started, but Ichigo Kurosaki's world is slowly but surely fading away. Piece by piece, person by person, feeling by feeling, day by day, unpredictably but steadily. Unstoppable.
Shadows come and go as the sun rises and falls, and his world is at the end of twilight.
Lately, I've been feeling like I'm out of touch with myself, my family, my friends. Everything. It's like I'm separated from my body and I'm watching another person live my life for me, over and over again. What's weirdest about this is how much I really don't care. But that's probably the root of the whole problem. Things never would have gone so far awry if I had bothered stopping this when it began.
Light filters into his room, drawing shadows along the walls. Time for him to get out of bed, a new day awaits. Lazily, Ichigo rubs his eyes and strains himself to sit up. He has no idea how long he slept the previous night, if at all, but it can't have been anywhere near enough. Despite the fact that he stayed in bed until noon and will be ridiculously late for school, he doesn't feel rested enough. Whatever. No one cares if he's late, himself least of all. Distantly, he can remember a time when his father would never have allowed such lethargy. Now, however, it is shocking his dad's obnoxious snoring, drifting from across the hallway, hadn't awakened Ichigo sooner. Assuming Ichigo actually did get some sleep.
Not bothering to shower--maybe tomorrow he will--Ichigo stuffs himself into a school uniform and drifts down the stairs to the breakfast table. There, he encounters his two sisters. One, Yuzu, is yawning while the other, Karin, looks so tired and haggard that it seems she could almost drop dead at any second. Nothing Ichigo doesn't expect. Something at the back of his mind shouts at him that the two should be more lively and that he should be bothered by this, but he ignores this voice. Or can't hear it, possibly. It makes no difference either way.
Momentarily, he considers stopping at the table to eat or chat with his sisters. The moment passes and Ichigo is out the door before he knows it.
I can't remember the last time I've had anything to eat. Surely, it can't have been that long ago since I'd die without feeding myself, and I don't feel hungry. Still, it seems like it's been forever since I've filled my belly with anything more than air. Also, when was the last time I've held a conversation with another person? At times I wonder if I've forgotten how to eat or talk, it's been so long.
Brilliant, bright light from crystal clear blue skies cascades down to enlighten his way, yet Ichigo raises a hand to shield his eyes from it. Tired, he trudges his way to school. Without his textbooks or anything he needs to study, not that this matters. Along the way, he passes houses undergoing a slow death; paint is chipping off his neighbours' homes in scattered locations, broken windows are left broken, there are roof tiles that clearly needed to be replaced. Not so long ago, these same buildings were being maintained in an utmost, fanatically perfect condition. It is like any love for the houses has vanished over the past few days, or weeks, or months. Or years. Ichigo is uncertain.
Odder still than this, some lots are missing buildings entirely, or just small portions of the old framework. Ichigo cannot recall wrecking crews ever arriving to tear them down, but he figures something must be responsible for the vanishing homes.
A most strange decay his town is experiencing.
The few people, as well as the single car passing by, he comes across look much the same as the broken homes. Shadows of their former selves. Probably, Ichigo thinks, he is no different to look at. No more than a dimmed reflection of better days long past.
How long can this life go on until he is no more?
Is there anything I can do to stop this? Would I even want to, if I could?
Finding no answers, for there are none, his pace becomes slower.
Then, in a blur, a dark shadow flashes over the rooftops to his side, faster than the corner of his eye can follow. It is a glimpse of midnight in the middle of the day.
He lurches to a halt in order to try and figure out what that shadow is. Or was, since it is already gone. Around him, the only other person nearby he can see doesn't seem to have noticed whatever-it-was. This thing, this creeping shadow, it surprised him by moving so quickly in a slow-moving world, empty of life. As if affected by the shadow's dexterity, Ichigo quickly scans the tops of the homes, unconcerned that others may think he looks foolish, in a futile attempt to spot the dark blur again.
All he finds is other shadows. Soon, he gives up the pursuit and continues to school. The memory of the brief disturbance has already slipped away by the time he arrives.
--
"Okay, class," groans the homeroom teacher, "it's a free-study hour. Do whatever you want," she laments heavily, like she has the weight of universe pressing down on her. Then she leaves the room as though those few words drained her of all life for the week.
Before, the teacher was beloved by the students. She did not work hard for their affections, nor was she so lenient with them that she was taken advantage of. Strict, but not without sympathy. Steadily, her easygoing attitude but serious dedication to the job won the approval of every kid she taught, if not their outright affection. A secret fan club few knew of--certainly the teacher did not--was created. She had turned down ninety-seven guys who confessed to her and two girls. Everybody had placed their bets on who would be unlucky hundredth suitor to be turned down.
Fun times.
That was then, though. At some critical point, that energy around her evaporated. Along with the rest of the school. And town.
Now, the class has no response for her. No cheers. Half the seats are empty, and not a single student nor present had arrived before noon. Every face appears drowsy. In fact, a few of the students aren't bothering to put up an act and are sleeping in the middle of the class, unconcerned with any ramifications. Really, as can be seen from the teacher herself, none wanted to be here. Question is: why did anyone show up in the first place?
Class never had been the most fun for the students, and each could think of some place they'd rather be. Learning taxed the mind. It's true that some students enjoyed the work, and some despised it, but everybody used to show up for as many classes as they could. Truancy never ran rampant in Ichigo's class before. If for no other reason than the opportunity to hang out with their friends, his classmates would try to be present. Before, that had been enough.
How did this stop being the case for every single student without exception? Ichigo can not figure this out for the life of him, and not just because he is uninterested in the answer.
It truly is mysterious.
Why did anyone show up in the first place?
Silently, the students sit in their seats doing nothing for the next hour. Alone in a corner by the windows, Ichigo hides from the sun's bright rays under a curtain's shade. A choice spot his colleagues would once have envied. None want his seat now, though, since that would mean changing their established routines.
Is this why people still showed up? Because it is what they have always done? But then, what about those who did not come to class? This returned to the initial question:
Why did anyone show up in the first place?
More and more people stop showing up each day. In my few dreams, I wonder if I'll be one of them some day. I have no reason to come here. I only do since it's what I've done for as long as I can remember. Somehow, breaking my routine sounds worse than following it. However, I cannot put into words why the idea of disrupting the pattern is so threatening to my existence. We're teenagers, right? That's what teenagers do, right? Break free of their established selves? Yeah, so this shouldn't be something to avoid.
Though free to do whatever he wants in the classroom, Ichigo does not get up to talk with his friends on the other side of the room. Actually, now that he thinks about it, Keigo and Chad disappeared a few days ago. Or has it been a few weeks? Or months, even? No matter. There was no search for the two conducted by the police, nor for any of the recent cases of missing people, and Ichigo isn't going to look for them himself. Anyways, Tatsuki, Orihime, Ishida, and Mizuiro still come to school, but who knows how long that will last.
So much of his free time used to be spent with them, it is astonishing how unaware of each other Ichigo and his group of friends have become. Like they've become strangers, it seems.
I feel that a crucial part of myself must be gone if I feel so undisturbed by all this. Yet, I can't put my finger on what that is.
It is tiring to think about this. Suddenly, the wooden veneer of his desk is seductively appealing and he realizes his head is laying against it. Before long, the world is turning black and not falling asleep will be impossible. Normally, this is the time when he will let himself separate from the rest of the world. However, today, an unusual twisting of light snaps him back to attention just before he can give in to sleep. Eyes heavy with drowsiness shoot up in time to see a black silhouette move and a door close shut.
What was that?
Glancing around, nobody else seems to have reacted to the minor disruption. Did only Ichigo catch sight of it, or is he the only one who cares it was in the room? Rather, cared to note its presence because Ichigo is already forgetting the shadow and drifting off into another dream.
The class continues to carry on devoid of any semblance to a normal room full of teenagers. Rather, it looks like a hospital ward full of elderly on their death beds, though even that would have appeared more lively than this.
Through a haze, Ichigo notes Tatsuki's desk, which she occupied when he first arrived, is now vacant.
He probably should be concerned by that fact instead of falling asleep.
--
Loud enough to wake him, the school bell rings to end the school day. Afternoon, more like, considering none of the students ever arrive in the morning.
Awkwardly, Ichigo battles an unwilling body and pulls himself together so he can head home and sleep there. He isn't the only one stumbling out of a desk. Most of the students who stayed the entire afternoon, and hadn't ditched early, are in a similar state. In a daze, the kids grab their bags, those that brought any, and crawl out the door. Words are not passed between one another, defying the standard for adolescents once more.
It is an unsettling image to be found in a school. The time immediately preceding the final bell is one to celebrate, to dash off to a club, socialize, or hurry home for whatever reason. This orderly, quiet, drained exit of the student body is too wrong.
Through a hallway, down a flight of stairs, another corridor, a pair of shoes are changed, then the exit and Ichigo is out the school and going home. Not long afterward, the last kid leaves the building and an empty school is left in Ichigo's wake. A school a mere figment of livelier times; it too is not exempt from this deadening of Karakura.
Ichigo can not be bothered by this, however. Home and his bed are all Ichigo can think of right now. That even they are shells of a former existence does not matter to him.
In this late hour, the shadows of Karakura are lengthening gradually. Short time has gone by since he left, but the buildings appear in worse shape than they did in the morning. Furthermore, the number of other pedestrians has decreased, too.
So unexciting...So tired of everything...Can hardly even bother to think...
Ichigo yawns, just long enough so he is unable to get a good grasp of a dark shape running in front of him. Again. Will this one shadow ever leave him alone today? Like lightning, in that you see it then hear its thunder, the dark shadow zips by Ichigo; only a second afterward does Ichigo realize the street he's walking along feels emptier after the shape's absence.
Could there be a connection?
Yet, he can't focus on the mystery for long. By the time his mind starts to rationalize, he is stepping through the threshold of his house and his lack of concern for anything returns.
Once inside, he goes to the living room to watch television. Soon, though, he loses interest and goes to the dinner room. Only one sister and his father sit there, doing and saying nothing. Not feeling hungry, the dining room becomes boring fast and Ichigo is dragging himself up the stairs, on his way to an early night The whole time, he can't shake off an uneasy feeling that a dark obscurity follows his every step. And that this darkness is the same he came across numerous times that day.
Enough.
Enough of this abstract blur. He needs to sleep.
Perhaps by the time I wake up, it'll be gone.
With this thought in mind, rest befalls him quickly.
--
Morning.
Or noon, to be exact. The time after waking up is morning to Ichigo, though, so morning it is.
The sun is too bright again today. I can't sleep with it so penetrating...At least, there shouldn't be any shadows when it's like this outside.
A comforting notion, he decides. Almost enough to give him energy to force himself out of the bed. But not quite. He still needs another ten minutes. Finally, he slips the covers off and rolls out. The fact he still wears his school uniform and doesn't need to change helps out a lot. In the hallway, something strange makes him think for a second.
Odd. No snores from the old man. Whatever. More sleep for me in the future, in that case.
Downstairs in the kitchen, Yuzu is napping by herself at the table. When was the last time she left the kitchen? And where did Karin go? Neither of these questions cross Ichigo's mind as he ignores or forgets the peculiarities of his own home, and slugs himself out the door.
During his walk, less people than ever travel along the sidewalks and no cars can be seen moving. Now, nearly a quarter of the buildings exist no longer and the other three quarters look to be in their most horrid shape ever. Dark shadows lurk behind the shattered windows of the remaining houses. Once or twice, Ichigo can swear he saw a shape move inside those dying houses, but he passes those off as residents moving, despite his suspicions to the contrary. Despite the fact no residents in Karakura are moving as fast as those vague, dark shapes in the window moved.
Today, the teacher doesn't even bother to appear and tell the students to study by themselves. Not that there are many students she could have told that to. Besides Ichigo, there are only three other students. One is Mizuiro; the other two have names and faces he can never remember.
Where Ishida and Orihime faded off to, he has no clue. Doesn't care. The other three students don't seem to, either.
A nice day so far...
With nothing to do, Ichigo drifts off to sleep as soon as he sits at his desk. Again, the bell wakes him up, as it does the only other student, some girl, in the room. Like the day before, the students, though only two, drowsily slide out of the room. However, are his eyes deceiving him or does a dark figure leave the room with Ichigo and the other student? Roughly, Ichigo rubs his eyes and decided he is still tired and seeing things, as a result.
Of course he's seeing things. Ichigo's the only person in the hallway.
Grey clouds overhead and the day growing darker, Ichigo tiredly leaves the school and follows the usual path from school to his house. Along the way, he see one other person. It is an old man, standing in the middle of the road, as indifferent and neglectful of the emptiness consuming Karakura as Ichigo is. The two pass without acknowledging the other or the bizarre disappearance of half the homes and their denizens.
A block before reaching his home, Ichigo hears gravel skid. Shocked, he swerves backward but the black frame of a body is already leaping away into black clouds above. Listlessly, he stares upwards for a minute before disregarding it as his imagination.
Am I still dreaming? I should get back to bed fast and make sure I am, if I'm not.
Fortunately, the door to his home has fallen off, in addition to most of one of the walls, so Ichigo doesn't need to open the door. Less work for him. Watching television is out of the question, on account of the television no longer existing. Big deal. Nothing good is on these days, anyways. In the dining room, his sister Yuzu still sleeps; Ichigo is uncertain if she's moved since the morning. Not feeling a need for food or drink, though, he doesn't stay long at the table and continues upward to his bedroom. To his bed.
To the sweet nothingness of dreams.
Away from the ever present shadow. The shadow which somehow disturbs him immensely in a world without concern.
...Sleep...
However, he can still live without worry in his dreams.
--
Drip drip drip.
The incessant pattering of rain wakes Ichigo up.
No sun today...
Indeed, the darkness of his room is threatening. Shadows everywhere. Nowhere can he look without seeing dark shapes spreading across his room. So quiet, too. That downpour feels like the only noise in this world.
What time is it?
Is it still evening? Must be. Wow. Ichigo cannot remember the last time he was awake this late at night. Weirder still, he doesn't feel tired. Not only that, it takes hardly any effort to detach himself from the sheets. Though, Ichigo is apathetic to all these
abnormalities, as always.
Until he bumps into something solid.
In turn, the black shape which Ichigo did not realize is in his room, gasps and jumps out his window, into the rain.
Contrary to what may have been expected, Ichigo is not shaken by this.
Instead, he reacts by continuing his routine as if nothing happened. Pretends it did not happen since it could not have. He creeps down the dark stairs, and goes by the dining room without noticing that Yuzu is no longer there. As always, he isn't hungry and doesn't stop to eat.
Outside, the rain pounds away heavily.
What should he do?
Guess I'll go to school. Maybe I'll be tired enough to sleep by the time I get there.
Not considering to bring an umbrella, Ichigo descends into the pouring night. There, Ichigo can see little for the rain to land on, other than himself. Karakura is suddenly in complete ruin, down to the last house. Down to the last person. Well, not quite the last person, as Ichigo still walks the streets. Regardless, these cold, hard truths pass through Ichigo. As does the rain. And the dark shadows. It seems nothing can reach him now.
Why am I going to the school again?
Because that is what his routine demands.
Without seeing another person at all, he arrives at the school, not a splash of rain on his body. While all of Karakura, save for his house, is practically gone, Karakura High School still stands as strong and proud as ever. Only the lack of light or students gives away its lie for what it is. A dream come true for Ichigo, though, if he can still be bothered by flights of fancy by this juncture.
Unhurried, Ichigo stumbles down the dark, empty hallways of his school at night; the sound of his footsteps is drowned by the hard fall of rain. Why he came here escapes him now that he's on campus, but he can't stop moving.
Eventually, he is in his lonely classroom and sitting at his desk once more, ready to let the drizzling rain lull him to sleep.
"You gave me quite a surprise there, kid."
The deep, though womanly, voice comes from the darkness and is entirely unanticipated by Ichigo. His head rushes up to find the source.
There.
An open window. The dark shadow of a figure stands there. It is the shadow.
A breaking point is breached at last for Ichigo Kurosaki.
Dammit! Won't it--or she--leave me alone and let me dream peacefully?!
Ichigo steps away from his desk and glares at this dark shape of a woman.
"What are you?!" he shouts for what feels like the first time in ages. A dam has burst and he can no longer control himself. "Stop following me everywhere!" Along with the dam, a torrent of emotions is unleashed, none of them pleasant.
The woman chuckles. "So you can talk," she muses. "I wonder how many years it's been since that mouth of yours has uttered a sound."
Years? What is she talking about? It's only been a couple of days, a week at most. Half a month, tops.
The falseness of the thought rings empty in his mind.
"You didn't answer my question. Who are you?!" Ichigo demands to know again, suppressing his self-doubt with anger.
"Cranky without your sleep, are you? Seriously, I have never seen people laze around more than your town did before I arrived."
"Tell me!"
"Fine," she sighs. "I'm a Shinigami. I reap souls. The name is Rukia Kuchiki. I know who you are, Ichigo Kurosaki, so you need not identify yourself to me."
Light from a sheltered moon finds its way into the room, and Ichigo is allowed to clearly see that this shadowy woman is a short girl with jet-black, shoulder-length hair wearing traditional Japanese clothing darker than night. A sword hangs menacingly at her hip.
What a load of bullshit. This shadow was a cosplaying girl the whole time?
"Soul reaper?" Ichigo snorts derisively. "What's that supposed to be? Some kind of comic book character? Heh!"
"Far from it, Ichigo Kurosaki." A cold winter day can not compete with the chill of her words. "We Shinigami guide the dead to their fate...whether they desire it or not." She clenches the hilt of her blade.
This has a profound effect on Ichigo.
Or it should have. "Really?" He is unconvinced. "Can't leave the dead alone, can you? Got to harass them even after the end?" he mocks her.
"Do not jest about my job, kid! It is for their own good that we patrol the afterlife. All turn to darkness and become Hollows without our support."
"Hollows?"
"What you could call 'evil' spirits, Ichigo Kurosaki, though I find them more pitiable than anything."
"Right, of course. So, you say your job is to guide souls?" Smirking, Ichigo believes he sees a flaw present in her preposterous tall tale. "Then why are you here? Your story doesn't make sense. There are no ghosts here. Just me."
The air darkens noticeably around her face, and a cold smile graces her deceptively beautiful features. "Why am I here? Haven't you guessed it yet?" She waits until it's clear Ichigo has no sardonic reply. "To take your soul away, of course, you silly boy."
Raindrops bouncing off the rooftop is the only noise for a few seconds.
"What?" Ichigo gapes, before recovering. "What sort of stupid joke is that?!"
"It is true. Though, as I said, you did surprise me a few times by noticing my presence...Most cannot see me, you see," she explains a little.
Ichigo shakes his head. This Rukia person is getting incredibly confusing. "Hold on. Why can only I see you when no one else can?"
"I'm not certain," she shrugs, "but I would say you likely had extremely strong spiritual powers while you lived. Actually, that shouldn't matter. Being a spirit, the living do not see me, but ghosts should have no problems comprehending my presence."
...Say that again?
His eyes narrow. "What do you mean 'lived'?" he asks the diminutive, yet frightening, shadow. "Are you going to kill me and turn me into a ghost or something?!"
Her eyes widen in surprise. "Oh, no! Not that!" She realizes she needs to elaborate herself further. "I can only send away the souls of the dead, not the living. I do not kill according to your understanding of the word."
That makes no sense, though.
And when did I start acting like I believed her crap?! Her frickin' seriousness is rubbing off on me too much!
Nonetheless, he gives her the appropriate protest. "But I'm not dead."
And the self-proclaimed Shinigami bursts out laughing. In the dark classroom he napped it in every afternoon, Ichigo watches the girl giggle uncontrollably after telling him the most ridiculous of lies.
"You think you're alive?" She laughs some more. "Oh, you all did, didn't you? I bet that's why all of them pretended they couldn't see me, because they couldn't before. Only you couldn't do that because you could always see the dead." As quickly as the humor came, though, it vanishes and Rukia Kuchiki is quickly sombre once more. "No, Ichigo Kurosaki, you are not alive. You and every person in your town have been very dead for the past hundred years, only existing as ghosts all this while."
The rain taunts Ichigo in the following silence, hammering in her proclamation with every drop against the windowsill.
What?!
This is too insane. The woman is taking this too far.
"A ghost? Me?!" Now, he admits he isn't the most lively person, but a ghost?! "How could that be even possible?!"
"When was the last time you ate?" He opens his mouth but she cuts him off. "When was the last time you drank? When was the last time you used a washroom? Why do you always feel like sleeping? When was the last time you hung out with your friends? Hugged your sisters?" she drills him. "Why aren't you wet, even though you just walked through this downpour?" she gestures outside the window.
Ichigo has an answer for every question she shoots at him. At the same time, he reluctantly realizes none of them are true. Thinking about it, how could he not be wet?
She continues. "When was the last time you breathed, Ichigo Kurosaki?"
When was the last time I did any of those? Why can't I remember...? Am I really...
Dead.
"You're getting it now, aren't you?"
His reverie breaks. "Maybe." Ichigo sounds a touch angry. Perhaps very mad is more accurate. "But so what if I've been a ghost? I was happy with my life the way it was!"
"Obviously you were. Otherwise, you would not have remained attached to this world. It's startling neither you nor anyone else went rampant as a Hollow during the last hundred years."
The nail in his coffin is driven deeper.
"Hundred years?" Still, that's really strange. "If you actually are a Shinigami and your job is to guide the dead, how could it have taken a hundred years to take care of my town?!"
She averts her gaze. "I'm...sorry," she apologizes with sincerity. "There was a war that put the world into a perennial winter...one that destroyed your entire town. It lasted so long we only recently won and could do something for the innocent lost in the crossfire."
Ichigo listens to her silently. Is it the rain that made her face so wet? Whatever it was, he cannot deny she believed every word she spoke.
"...And this 'something' you will do involves taking away what little I have left?" He softly concludes.
"Yes." There is no hesitation before her response. Her gaze hardens into steel and penetrates Ichigo deeper than any swords could. "We Shinigami must make up for lost time. What your town has been doing for decades is an affront to life. Most importantly, it's a disgrace to who you used to be. I will gladly see an end to it. For you, more than anything."
"For me...? I quite enjoyed myself, thank you very much."
"Do you honestly believe that?"
Images of living the same day repeatedly, never talking, never smiling come to Ichigo.
"Yeah! I did..."
Even to himself, he doesn't sound very convincing.
She sighs at him. "Be that as it may, Ichigo Kurosaki, it is time for me to complete the job Soul Society should have finished a hundred years ago." While telling him this, she draws her blade from its scabbard. The edge shines brightly despite a lack of any light for it to reflect. "You're the only who has yet to be sent up. I promise this will not be painful."
And she points the tip of the sword towards Ichigo's forehead.
"Wait a second...you aren't serious, are you? Is that thing real?" He backs away, stumbling against desks behind him. The blade certainly appeared razor sharp. "Okay, I'll admit that I'm a ghost, you don't need to stab me with that!"
More graceful than the wind, Rukia moves forward. "You have nothing to fear. Trust me, Soul Society is a restful place."
A step back. "Sound nice, but no thanks. I can dream all I like here."
Across from him, a step forward. "This world is a dream."
Back. "A good one. I want to see how it ends."
Forward.. "Only an eternity of loneliness awaits."
"Better that than dying."
"You already died."
"I can dream, can't I?"
Ichigo backs into the wall and is forced to a stop; he has no more space to back into. The distance between him and the curve of Rukia's sword diminishes to next to nothing immediately.
For the first time in a hundred years, Ichigo's chest rises and falls in rapid succession as a hot sweat breaks over him. The Shinigami's weapon is pressed against Ichigo's throat and is drawing blood.
The shadow sighs at him and removes the edge away from Ichigo.
"If you want to dream, Ichigo Kurosaki, then let me take you away from this world." She pauses to choose her words. "This place is a nightmare, no pleasant dream...Can't you see that?" A hint of pleading enters her tone.
And Ichigo thinks of what she says. Of what he wants. What he really wants. Can he believe this woman? Silently, he considers her offer as his lungs expand and contract. The tip of her sword is still pointed towards the center of his neck.
Seeing his indecision, Rukia whispers two words.
He chooses to step forward.
--
Come Home
--
In a suspended state of disbelief, I snap awake.
Where was I?
My sacrifice, a haze of dreams, an exchange student, monsters, a ghost? Bizarre events flood through my mind too fast to process. Which one of those places am I in now?
"Ichigo! You idiot, how could you sleep in a place like this?!"
A shrill tone calls to me. Heh. Maybe she doesn't think it's shrilly, but she can't hear herself like I can.
"Hey, I'm awake now, right? I'm sure I missed nothing important."
Probably. I'm not good with plans, anyway, so it won't matter if I don't know what was discussed.
"That's not the point! Do you want to make a fool of yourself in front of my brother?!"
"I don't care what he thinks."
She groans in vexation. Does she believe she can change my personality? She already changed my world, so what more can she hope for?! Seriously.
"Just don't do it again, or you'll regret it." A promise, not a threat.
Ooh, I'm so scared.
Then, images of the cold steel of a Zanpakutou piercing me return. And hot fangs digging possessively all over my body. I'm trapped in darkness, dreaming of an end, hoping more than anything that this is a dream. That my waking moments won't be the real dream.
"Ichigo...? You all right?"
"Yeah," I reply, shaking the vivid imagery away. "They were just dreams."
"Dreams? About what?"
You.
"All kinds of things. I can hardly remember them all."
Really. Most of them are already fading. Except for two words that still sound perfect to me. More so now, if that is possible.
"That's pointless, then. Don't be such a baby about dreams."
"Baby?! As if," I scoff.
She laughs. Not with me. At me.
Rukia punches me on the arm, softly. As soft as she gets, at least. "Good morning. Let's go home, already."
And I'm suddenly very happy. So happy this must be a dream, but so happy that I don't care, even if it is.
---
Sweet Dreams---
...And that is the end of this series.