Forsaken Character Chronicles Book 1:

Kurosaki Yuzu

­­The Clairvoyant

Chapter 2: Confusion

--X--

My parents never really told me about their past. It was weird; everything in our house was something to talk about. It didn't matter if the topic was what happened to school, the quality of dinner, or the mysterious goop that stuck to the bottom of Yamada Satoshi's shoe this morning. It was all fair game. Whenever I brought the past up, though, Mommy and Daddy would just smile at me and say, "We'll tell you when you're older." Well, I'm older now—I'm 14! I should be able to know about it.

That's what drove me to look trough the attic today. After hours and hours of pushing and digging through boxes, I finally found something that might be interesting: a dusty purple book with the words "Yuzu's diary" on the cover.

So, I started reading it. It was nothing interesting, though; time at school, hanging out with friends, blah, blah, blah. But, there was one entry that surprised me the most: April 17th. I could read the words, but I didn't really know what it meant. And I consider myself pretty smart (especially with the way Mommy tells stories to me…"upper-level language", she says…). Soul Society? Shinigami? Hollows? What the heck was all this stuff?

Before I could read the next entry, however, I saw the book being snatched away. I turned quickly to see my mom, flipping back to the start of the entry.

"I remembered the time when I wrote this diary entry. It seemed so long ago since that time... But, then again from the time I wrote this diary entry, it seemed like years had passed when, in reality only weeks had. Anyway, I'm pretty sure you're curious about it, right? Well, I'll be happy to tell you the whole story."

And so I listened to my mom talk on and on about hollows and shinigami and spiritual power, amazed at the story. If it wasn't my mom talking, I would have been sure that this was all one big lie. But, with my mom here, as well as the tone she was using, it was pretty hard not to believe. She was speaking in something that I could guess was truthfulness and something that I couldn't quite get…

…Which brings us to where we are now. I can't sleep. After a story like that, there was no way I could relax long enough to do so. So, I threw off my bedcovers and headed down the stairs to our house. I saw my mom finishing off the dishes from dinner, so I walked up to her and poked her in the shoulder (and that's with my arm fully outstretched).

"Mommy, would you tell me more about the shinigami and the hollows?"

She turned to me and smiled, putting away the last dish and wiping her hands on her apron. "Sure honey, just meet me on the couch. I'll give you something that will answer all of your questions."

I walked out of the kitchen and into the family room, sitting on the couch. A few minutes later, Mommy came out of the kitchen. She stayed true to her word and showed me something: a dusty purple book with the words "Yuzu's diary" on the cover.

"If you have any questions, fell free to ask me. I wrote all of that as soon as I could; writing down my thoughts so it didn't seem like I was crazy. Now that I think about it, it was pretty childish," she said. She laughed softly at this, continuing after a short giggle break. So…if you want me to skip the unnecessary detail, I wouldn't blame you," Mommy said as she sat next to me. I shook my head in response to her offer. I liked how she told stories; the way she told them always made them all seem real, even the fairy tales she says she hated so much. She smiled shortly after. I have a feeling that she likes putting the detail in as well.

She began to tell me the story, glancing into her diary occasionally to find her place.

--X—

I woke up the next morning to a shout that I found extremely familiar.

"GOOOOOOD MOORNIIING, ICHI-GO!!"

Yeah, it's the same shout that you heard Grandpa yell during the week that both he and your uncle Ichigo came to visit. I sat up bolt upright as soon as I heard it, but regretted it soon after when I got a splitting headache courtesy of my apparently exhausted state. I didn't know why back then, but I was extremely tired that morning. I fell back down onto my fluffy bed, clutching the blankets and curling them around my body to protect me from the coldness of my room, however difficult it seemed to be. I closed my eyes, trying to detach the feeling of my steel-weight-like arms and legs from my tranquil mindscape.

Now, that morning, I thought wholeheartedly that the event from the day before was a part of an elaborate dream. Back then, I thought it was a little scary at first because I was running away from one of those hollow things with Kuchiki-san, but I found myself thinking something along the lines of "I actually helped beat away the monster instead of running away like a beheaded chicken! It was so thrilling! Too bad it was just a dream, though."

A "ka-chick" sound drew my attention toward a door; my door. The door opened slowly, as if to not wake someone and in stepped a medium-sized, black-haired, slender girl carrying a tray of what looked like medicine and food. As she closed the door behind her, she looked up to meet my half-cast eyes.

Yes, this is your aunt Karin. You remember her, right? Back then, to people other than me (and occasionally your uncle Ichigo), she would seem like either a fully apathetic person without much of a care for anything or an angry/brooding little girl. To be put bluntly, she's my direct opposite—and this just so happens to include the opposition to my apparent lack of spiritual power. She has just enough spiritual power to knock out a low-class hollow, but she's been working on her abilities (which, oddly enough, involve her excellent ability in soccer).

"So, you're up. Took ya long enough…" she said, the dull expression on her face being betrayed by the shine of relief in her eyes, "You're the only one in this family who's actually sane enough for me not to strangle, ya know? Don't knock yourself out like that again, okay?"

"Knock myself out?" I asked, confused by her remark. Her mouth twisted into an odd angle, conveying her confusion.

"You don't remember? Rukia said you guys were attacked by a hollow and you were knocked out. She came home with you on her back," she said almost nonchalantly, despite her confused expression, "What'd you do anyway, ya klutz?"

"I…don't remember…" I said slowly, trying to recall yesterday, but only seeing the vivid dream of the attack. Well, there was a hollow, if Karin is telling the truth, and there was Rukia, so…

"No way…it couldn't be…" I thought.

I looked at my hands; my eyes narrowing in concentration. My pale palms looked back at me in confusion, as if to say, "What did we do? It was your dream. How can we know any more than you do?"

"What are you doing?" Karin asked, a tint of confusion lying underneath the normal tone of bored aggravation that her voice usually held. I looked up at her face, her inquisitive eyes contrasting her nearly apathetic expression.

"Nothing," I said quickly, averting my gaze. Karin rolled her eyes at me.

"Whatever, weirdo…just drink your medicine and eat when you get hungry. I'll be back later after I throw some bandages at Dad."

It was at this point when I heard the typical trashing, crashing, and bashing that usually come at this time. My brother's voice sailed in from behind my wall; an angry yell accompanying the sounds of scuffle. I sighed in exasperation. It was just your typical day in the Kurosaki household…

Except…

My hands drew my attention once more. They looked the same as before.

"If what happened in my dream was actually what…happened, then…" I thought to myself at the time.

I sat up again, my tired state washed away by my ever-growing curiosity. I clenched my fists repeatedly, trying to grasp the air or materialize something magical. Then, I remembered some of the specifics of the dream and got an idea.

"Ye Lord," I chanted, "mask of blood and flesh; all creation; flutter of wings; ye who bears—"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I heard a stern voice say, interrupting my incantation. "Just because you know the incantation doesn't mean you've mastered the spell," the voice finished; the tone holding firm. I looked toward my window and saw a familiar, black-haired girl—the same girl I was running with in my dream—Kuchiki-san.

Confused, I looked up at her face only to be met with an expression of utmost seriousness. There was no humor in her voice at all, though there was a twinkle of confusion behind her pupils. "Spell?" I asked, cocking my head to the side slightly.

"It's called Kidô: a demonic art that is to be used by soul reapers," she said calmly; jumping into the room and walking towards my bed, "And you used one of them last night," she finished, staring at me with a cold glare. There was no anger in it, but it was still an expression that I prefer not to see very often. I just stayed in place, practically frozen by the chill in her eyes.

She suddenly sighed then, tearing her eyes away from mine, "Look, Yuzu, all I want to know is how you managed to do that." She turned back toward me, her eyes now kinder and warmer, but no less confused, "You had no prior experience with spiritual power, let alone demonic arts before yesterday's battle and yet you managed to perform a flawless level 33 destructive spell. It's just something I need to know."

"That…" I began carefully, trying to process what was inexplicitly said, "That really happened?" I asked, still not truly accepting of the claim that yesterday's events did actually happen. Kuchiki-san nodded slowly, keeping her eyes fixed onto mine. I looked down towards my hands. "Wow," I said, a feeling of wondrous excitement filling my being, "I can't believe I actually did that."

"Do you know how you did it?" Kuchiki-san asked.

I looked up to her again, hiding my excitement as best as I could—which, admittedly, wasn't very effective. "I'm not too sure," I said, my newborn cheer invading my voice as I took up a contemplative look—which was not too contemplative due to my giddiness, "I had this vision of myself taking down a hollow using that spell. The problem was…it was your voice was leaving my mouth…"

Instantly, Kuchiki-san's eyes widened. She quickly took up a piece of paper and a pencil and started to draw something. As she drew, she asked me a question; her voice strained as she tried to place detail in her work, "Did it…look…kind of…like…this?" she asked as she turned over the sheet of paper, showing me her artistic rendition of a hollow: a teddy bear-like drawing with a triangular-like head…

"Um…no…" I said slowly, trying not to giggle at the poor resemblance to the hollow I saw. "But…" I started, "it did have a trapezoid-like head. Here, let me show you."

I took the paper and pencil gently and began to draw a trapezoidal head attached to a body that could only be described to as a black version of a mutated frog's body: hind legs firmly rooted and front legs outstretched slightly in front of it; back hunched over in an inhumanly low slouch. It was something that was difficult to draw, but easy to draw from memory. It was a fresh image, after all.

Before I could finish, however, my door clicked open again, revealing your uncle Ichigo. He walked in with his usual scowl and stood right night to my bed, resting a hand on my head. He looked at the paper I was drawing on and looked at one of the drawings. I wasn't sure which one he looked at immediately, but I found out soon enough when he spoke.

"Your drawings still suck; you know that?" he asked, facing Kuchiki-san as he spoke. I giggled softly, attempting to be discreet. Kuchiki-san, in response to the insult, found something to him with and proceeded to thump him on the head. The offending object this time was her backpack…apparently filled with books due to the way Ichi-nii rubbed his head afterward with his free hand.

The subject of Kidô never rose again that morning.

--X—

"So…it was never asked about again?" I asked, looking at my mom with an expecting look.

"Oh no," she said, "It came up again, all right. If it didn't I wouldn't have a story to tell you, now would I?" She punctuated her question with a gentle smile. The statement puzzled me, though. It gave me a vague feeling that this was at least a little bit made up.

"Mom, did this all really happen?"

Given the stuff actually said in the story, you couldn't really blame me for the question I asked, now could you?

Now, there were three possible responses to this question. One: she says that it is true with a serious tone meaning that she's serious about the events in the story. Two: she says that it is true with a looser tone, possibly one of the gentle nature; meaning she's lying to me. Three: She says the story is false outright; deciding to either drop the story or continue the story as it is as a fairy tale.

"The story I'm telling is completely true. Do you think I'd write down a false diary just to fool you about my past?" she asked with a smile and a jesting tone of voice.

She took the middle road between options one and two. It's an annoying predicament; I will have to judge its truthfulness later on. It's a good thing it's a good story.

Without my interruptions, she continued on.

--X—

The subject of Kidô was touched upon again later on with another hollow attack on the way to school. This attack was different, however, due to a couple of reasons. You'll figure out the rest of the differences as I describe it to you, but the first major difference was as simple as counting—literally. There were more forces on the hollow side this time around; initially there was a battle between the 2 shinigami allies—Kuchiki-san and I—and 15 hollows.

This time, Kuchiki-san was ready for them. She pressed a gloved hand to her head and there was a shockwave of some sort. Her body, still wearing the school uniform, was on the ground, pushing herself up to her feet. Her spirit, wearing the standard black robes of a shinigami, was standing in front of her body, holding the hilt of her sword, ready to draw it.

The body walked up behind me and tugged on my arm: something that would have signaled me to go with it in the past. But now that I could defend myself, I didn't need such protection. The body looked toward the spirit, and Kuchiki-san said in her usual serious tone, "There's no need this time around. Just take cover."

The body responded accordingly, releasing my arm and going toward a nearby alleyway. I moved my arms upward into the same position as it was last time and started to chant the incantation again.

"Ye Lord; mask of blood and flesh; all creation; flutter of wings; ye who bears the name of Man," I began, trying to hone in on the energies I used before. Before I shut my eyes to do so, I saw Kuchiki-san leap into action—her sword at the ready—to fight off the hollows around us.

"Truth and Temperance," I continued, still trying to locate the source of the surge that I felt in the last battle, "Bear thy claws slightly upon the wall of sinless dreams!" I finished with a shout. I felt a surge—not as big as the one from the last battle, but still tangible enough for me to feel that I could complete the spell.

My eyes snapped open and my mouth unleashed the name of the spell just as a hollow was approaching me; slipping through the defensive line that Kuchiki-san had established, albeit weakly due to the difference in numbers. "Destructive Art 33: Sôkatsui!"

The rush of energy was there. I felt it. The drain of energy soon after was there. I felt it. The one thing missing was, of course, the attack itself. There was no blue fireball leaving my hand at mach speed. There was no satisfying explosion. There was only the release of energy and a pathetic puff of pale white smoke leaving the palm of my hand.

The hollow looked at me as if to laugh at my misfortune, and then raised its horrible hand to strike me. I fell to the ground, exhausted once more, but not to the point where I knocked out. I looked in horror as the bony claws of the hollow drew ever closer. I shut my eyes in terror, bracing myself for the rip in flesh that was bound to come next.

The next thing I heard was not the sound of ripping, but a clang. The next thing I felt was not a piercing pain, but a rush of wind. I opened my eyes slowly and saw the familiar back of a shinigami robe. Kuchiki-san was looking seriously at me, as if to say, "We'll talk later." She then turned to gaze at the hollow with something that was doubtless a glare and parried the bony claws, using her superior agility to jump and slice through the hollow's mask. I could only watch, exhausted, as Kuchiki-san dispatched the other remaining 3 hollows.

It was mortifying. It was disheartening.

It was completely infuriating.

--X—

"And now, it is time for you to go to bed, my dear," mom said as she looked towards me with a smile—a complete contrast to the almost angry way she was saying those last lines. It was like she changed personalities.

She pointed to the digital clock on the coffee table, which read a luminescent 11 o'clock. It was fairly late for me, after all. I never knew how fast time can pass. I agree with what mom said to me about bed (which was sounding better and better by the minute), but I'm still disappointed. She practically left me hanging with those lines at the end of her story today. I move to give mom a look, but she was already a step ahead of me.

"If you're that curious, go ahead and read it. I won't mind if you're reading this one. Just don't let it interfere too much with your studies, alright?" she said, gently smiling once more.

That's right…I have school tomorrow. I really do need to get to bed, huh?

I take the book and kiss mom goodnight, scampering up the stairs to my room. I left the book on my bedside table, closing the lights to go to sleep.

--X—

Stories are often censored to fit the audience. If it is deemed inappropriate, it will be removed from the story before reaching the virgin ears of the innocent. This story is no different. However, the censored bits of the story were not due to inappropriateness. It was more of an issue of reluctance. What kind of child would like to know that his mother entertained demeaning thoughts—the kind of thoughts that mothers frown upon due to the positive things they see in their children? It would be completely hypocritical.

So, the part of the story that depicts Yuzu as a self-demeaning person was omitted from the verbal retelling. All of the comments that Yuzu said that described her existence as useless were passed over, even if it is written in black and white in the very diary she passed down to her child. The difference between word of mouth and text is the fact that word of mouth can be much clearer than that of a diary entry in some cases. It was certainly a gamble due to the fact that a confused reader could merely read the confusing phrase over and over until something makes sense, but it was something that Yuzu felt was not of her son's nature, therefore, he would not really pay the demeaning phrases much mind when her diary depicts her elaborating on how useless she was before the manifestation of her powers and, more recently, in the battle with the 15 hollows. And, that is what Yuzu was counting on when the dusty purple book accompanied her child upstairs—that the message of the self-destructive attitude will never be passed on, despite how her irritation at her own inabilities shone brightly in her harried writing in the part of the entry soon after the description of the battle.

--X—

A/N: So…that's Chapter 2. I worked pretty hard on this chapter, even if I kind of made it up as I went along…