Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, and not the music that inspired half of this piece, which is the soundtrack: Tragic Memory by Mitsumune Shinkichi
Basicaly, beside the main idea of this fic, this should contain two other ideas I had for fics starring Yumichika. One: is the black angle which may seem familiar from a summery of an attempted story, and two: the child. you won't get this one cause I wrote nothing about it yet. But I will.
The second idea is Yumichika's memories, though this second idea is actually taken from another Manga... but let's see if you get the main hint of this chapter itself first :3. the end is an obvious hint.
When he woke up, he was dressed in plain white Yukata, and was standing in an open field of hills and golden high grass blowing in the wind and purple tinted skies of sunset. He did not remember how he got there, or where exactly is 'there', or the last memory before his arrival... as if something happened that he just couldn't remember. But he had the feeling it was neither Soul-Society nor the the Living World, and not Hueco Mundo.
Few meters away from stood several human-sized mirrors, not fitting the scene of nature around. One mirror had a beautiful multi-colored frame, colors of all shades glimmering as if the mirror was one unending energy source. Another mirror was framed of midnight blue and grey, and was standing beside a lone dry tree.
The moment he saw these two mirrors he instantly knew where he was, and wondered if his Zanpakuto dragged him here. But he felt so... strange?
Stepping to the colorful mirror he reached to touch the glass with an open palm, but his hand bolted away like thunderbolt. The mirror, which was the gate to where his Zanpakuto resides, has rejected him.
"...Fuji-Kujaku?" He raised his tone, expecting somekind of reaction from calling it the nickname it so hated, but nothing happened. So he tried to call it by it's real name.
"Ruriiro-Kujaku?" He tried to touch the glass again, but it rejected his hand again. It was getting annoying. "If you think it's funny to drugg me here and then ignore me-" a sudden stronger breeze went past him, he suddenly got a dreading feeling and turned around.
Behind him, space twisted and an invisibility barrier dissolved, like a fog that's being cleared from Yumichika's eyes, revealing yet another mirror. This mirror was ominous, Gothic-styled frame of dark-purple crystal, with sharp curves and pure black glass.
This mirror wasn't here before.. no, more it had been thee, for the longest time, unseen, unnoticed, unknown... was it alright to touch it? it looks so... but everything here is connected to him, after all; this is his inner world...
The instant his finger came with contact of the glass's surface the world turned to starry indigo night -both grass and sky- and the mirror dissolved to million black feathers, whirling around him and blinding him before flying away out of sight.
Instead, a man was standing in front of him, or rather, floating few inches above the grass, not touching the ground with his bare feet, was an almost exact copy of him, same face, same body, paler in skin, but same bright Violet eyes- perhaps even brighter. And his black hair was much longer, falling freely around his face and shoulder, and his wardrobe consisted of only a Yukata, black-purple in color, like mirror's frame.
And wings on his back. Feathered wings of black so pure like the night itself.
Everything else that was or wasn't there seemed to disappear like nothing was there in the first place, except the open filled, and the night.
The winged creature lifted his hand, reaching forward and grabbed Yumichika's arm with his black-finger-nailed fingers, pulling the hazed man closer and whispering a single, tingling world into his ear, with the receiver repeating it in a dazed voice.
"Blood...?"
Something dripped and he looked down. He was standing in a pool of blood, and the whole down of his white Yukata was stained red.
The black angel was gone and head of him was a small child, about eight in age, standing beside the dried naked winter-tree in front of the midnight -grey mirror. Like the black-winged angel, the child seemed like a younger image of himself; wearing old white robe torn in the edges and face concealed by long black hair. Looking at this child who was him Yumichika knew why seeing him brought back painful emotions and memories to him, but he wondered why this child was out. Then a freezing wind blew on him, and he saw the boy's lips moving with no voice, but could barely make out what he was saying.
So he got closer. Close enough to see the pain in these pale eyes, close enough to hear the the single word departing these frozen lips even though there was no voice.
'Why?'
And he -the child- reached up his right hand, showing somewhat old, never-healing multiple scars on his wrist.
Everything faded to black, leaving only Yumichika and the pool of blood in the open filed of the night.
Why indeed? why was he alive all these years? What made him live till know, with all of these times in his childhood trying to take away his own life.. he wanted to die in his own blood, because no mater how cold was the snow and how white was everything around him, the blood was always so red and warm.
He remembered.
...Why, after he has moved over his past and the painful memories and found a reason to live and a home and someone who he wished, more than anything, to stay with, why after all these years he felt the need to try and kill himself again?
. . .
.
. . .
In the outside world, the last sun-rays of the day shone through the window on a dark-haired Shinigami lying on the floor of his room, drenched in his blood, with a red-stained sword dropped beside the door and a small, greenish-purple glowing orb lying inches away from his open bloodstained fingers.
In the inside worl, a black-winged angel and a past-child voicelessly shoutedwhispered, trying to make him remember something they themselves weren't certain about.
Rememberrememberrememberre-
Well? Get it? (confusing, I know. And I creeped myself with that last line ._...)