living corpse Chapter 3: missing the sun, a bleach fanfic

Actors are such finicky people. They're phoney, and they love it. They're real, and they hate it. Because their skin just isn't enough and their golden tongue is meant for lying, recycling garbled words formed from a script.

An 'actor' is just a synonym for 'liar'. Though not all liars are actors, they certainly attempt to be.

They believe under the folly of wisdom, that the world is their stage, and they are free to control it and reign supreme.

Except that's not the case and with panic fluttering like butterflies in an acidic stomach, those actors (liars, every single one) realize far too late that the world will never bend to their ideal image. Their illusion shatters their deceitful hearts because events, supernatural or mundane, words or actions, are beyond their control.

But they still pretend because they can create such a pretty lie that glows like an electric eel in a very dark sea, before shocking someone to imminent doom.

The world is their stage, and they like to think that they can control it. Yet people die, breaking that mirage that shrouds them, which envelops the sense of godliness and omnipotence. I can be anyone. I can rebuild my past. I can erase my bonds that tether me to this 'character' which is 'me'. When reality breaks in, and those bonds still remain, torn from flesh and blood, the character known as 'myself' bleed into soul, numbing their mind, splintering what little remains of those false hearts.

And it hurts just that little bit more to smile.

It feels like a dream, surreal and unreal, wrapped up in an icy glaze, white icing, perhaps, that blur the corners of her eyes. Or maybe it's known as tiredness, and Kurosaki Karin is merely unfocused, lost in a vortex that binds her to memories best left as memories, not forgotten, but there, distant in cracks of dreams and scenery.

She doesn't remember getting out of the car, or walking to the apartment – Hitsugaya Toushirou's apartment. No, her mind is still engaged in waves of guilt, remorse and regret, drowning her in memories of the raven haired shrimp. But her body remembers the reluctant tug of Ichigo's impatient hand, impassively gripping her thin wrist and leading her with that familiar frown etched on his face.

Her steps are slow and sluggish, ambling in a zombie-like manner, drifting in the lonely sea of memories.

And the currents are swallowing her up—

Boink.

—and she's looking at the muddy and grassy ground, Ichigo's fist gently on her head, forcing her to inspect his shoes. She doesn't like them. Sneakers are so old fashioned. They suit him, weirdly enough.

Somehow, with his voice, lazy and gruff and brotherly as it is… it feels pretty good to hear.

"Get a grip, and mourn later. Be emo in your time, stay away from knives, and while a possible endless supply of pocky may be around you – try not to eat too much, alright? I want you up and ready to kick Toushirou's moping ass, and I doubt that you want your first meeting after, what, so many years, is you acting like a right angst magnet. You'll only make him feel better, and he's got to feel worse first. Or so I reckon."

"Oh, the cauterizing method, I remember that." A wry grin works its way onto her pale face, in a bout of reminisce. "The old man and his strange techniques, mad I tell you."

"As if his wake-up calls were ever enough to satisfy his ideals of a 'proper family'." Ichigo wipes a grin onto his face, removing his hand from her dark tresses, stepping forward and disconnecting himself from her.

Between strands of thick locks, she watches Ichigo with a quirked grin on her face, slightly unbelieving, slightly amused. However, the curve of her lips shrink into a thin line, fading as her brother turns his back on her to ring the doorbell. When he looks back, neck arched like a black swan, the smile is on her face, as if it had never left. She looks down, glancing at her own shoes, boots – technically, and hides a quick grin, secretive and hidden from his eyes; and indulging her big brother, walks forward and folds her arms, shooting him a look and arching her eyebrows.

"We're saving her, I swear—"

"Acting as the overprotective brother, are you?"

Oh. He heard that? Ichigo glances at his hand, still on the buzzer and the electric thing that allowed communication to pass between them. A frown is on his face. Damn.

"Whatever. The old man's burning the house again and I miss Yuzu's cooking. You really got a problem with that? Man, we're being really nice and all—"

"I never asked for it."

"—we're friends, Toushirou. You don't have to. But even if my family lends you our master chef, it doesn't mean you can trap her in a tower."

"… she was going home after breakfast, anyway."

"Did she tell you that? Or did you decide that? Not everything goes according to what you think, and anyways, let me in already. I'm getting tired of seeing the same old scenery."

"Fine. Wait there, Kurosaki."

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo turns back to face his little sister, her eyes on her car; he sees her back, framed by raven black hair, wondering if she really feels as strong as she appears. Her lanky arms are folded against the back of her head, and she asks him a question, her voice drawled and hinting boredom.

"… we're not slaying the dragon, are we?"

"Nah, too much effort, and besides, why are we using medieval metaphors? Dragons, princesses and locked up towers?"

"Simple, nii-san. Yuzu's our fairytale, the one we want to be unharmed, untainted, and untouched by the world. Silly, naïve as it is… I prefer it that way."

"It's been too long." His voice is soft, still maintaining that brotherly affection, not noticing the slight noise behind him, but neither does she.

"Yeah." She doesn't look back at him, but her arms have moved from her head to her hips, lowered within her sigh, an angry exhalation. "It really has."

"Kurosaki, did you fail to mention something?"

She stiffens, trying to control her breathing, and rearrange her panicked features, her widened eyes.

He's behind her.

And it hurts to breathe, to meet his face, which she has not seen in so long.

I can't do this.

Breathe. Breathe, girl. Breathe.

Remember, it's just an act, and sooner or later, you'll be leaving this backwater town.

She turns, slowly, her arms fluidly falling to her side, her head dipping up and down within the pirouette, that uncannily sneaky grin on her face, dark blue eyes meeting cerulean blue.

It shatters her to act like this, but she has to see this through, orchestrating the event to gamble into her favour. Her smile twists, her posture confident, her nature in a sunny disposition.

I must do this.

"We did no such thing – you merely assumed that he was alone. What's with that face? Aren't you happy to see me, Tou – shi – rou?"

Karin cannot help but revel in the ire that blazes within those deep eyes, her red lips on her pale face widening further.

living corpse
3 : missing the sun

Grudgingly, he lets them in, scowling at the flippant girl, who wears an abnormal smile on her face. He ignores Kurosaki and never notices the slight smirk that tilts the corners of his normally downcast lips.

Some things never change.

Yuzu's still eating breakfast – helping herself to fruit when she hears heavy footsteps, three different beats, not quite a waltz. The first is Toushirou-kun, heavy footsteps that carry a burden. The second—

"I knew it. Yuzu really fixed this place up."

The second is Ichi-nii! Yuzu thinks with a gasp and slight smile on her face. She'll recognise that voice anywhere. When he walks, his beat is loud but soft, not heavy like Toushirou-kun's. He's relaxed and aloof as always, but his kindness radiates like the warmth of a candle.

So who's the third?

"That's my sister for ya. Princess Cleanliness, I say."

"Karin-chan!" The joyfully familiar name slips her lips, as honey-brown hair flies in the air while she twists to face them, grey eyes sparkling in delight. "You're really here!"

And she flings herself at her sister's neck, breathing in the scent that made her sister real and corporeal, flesh and blood, a creature that's here and not going away.

It's Karin. Karin-chan who is sweet and a tomboy and gruff and stubborn and like a mirror, reflecting the rays of light into a sunny beacon. Like fireworks in the sky; Yuzu's happiness skyrockets, exploding into dazzling beams of radiance.

It's not a trick of the mind.

She's really here.

Remember to keep breathing.

Even if your sister is technically strangling you because she's squeezing very tightly… you have to keep breathing.

Get your act together.

And be the sun that makes a smile shine across Yuzu's face.

Bone white hands touch her sister's back gently, like a skeleton mannequin gliding across the stage with strings attached, ever soft and ever gentle.

"Yuzu, you're choking me."

"… oh, sorry, Karin-chan." Her meek voice sounds apologetic, but her hold isn't loosening. Actually, Karin would go as far as to say it's tightening.

Karin rolls her eyes, cheeks flushing red, though she tries not to let that deter her from sounding firm and unbothered. "Alright, alright. Tadaima."

Yuzu lets go slowly, her hands sliding down Karin's shoulders and arms, sending ripples down her younger sister's raven black hair, shimmering like a waterfall. Her head retracts from the curve of Karin's neck, and hazel brown meets blue irises, warm and content. "Okaeri."

"… you do realize that this is my house, not yours?" The bored and grumbling tone that is known as Hitsugaya Toushirou finally decides to speak.

"Butt out, rumbling dragon. It's the thought that counts. Ever heard the phrase 'home is where the heart is'?" Karin drawls, waving him away as she disentangles herself from Yuzu's arms, though the elder sister sneaks in one more hug while her attention is diverted.

Scowling, the dragon looks away. That infernal grin is back on her face, and it's a sight for sore eyes.

"Are you leaving now or what?" He sighs, tired of this debacle and of the youngest Kurosaki's presence. "You got your 'princess', you annoyed the 'dragon' now can the two 'chivalrous knights' get out of the tower and return to the 'mad king'?"

"Wow. I never thought that you'd play along in my labelling game." Karin narrows her eyes, her voice sardonic and biting; her cheeks flooding out a red sea, overflowing as her temper rises, brimming across the land that is known as pale flesh. Grinning like a demon, no longer in a delightful mood, she steps forward, glowering; the curves of her lips strained. "Did something happen while I was away?"

"Karin…" Ichigo warns, unheard by the youngest sister.

"Did someone pull that stick out of your ass?" Arms akimbo, her head tilts, her dark eyes trying to pierce his, with black locks spilling over her shoulder and she narrows the distance between them, unaware of the looks that passes between her siblings; Karin walks into unknown territory, bold and daring. A fool. "Did you actually find someone who could stand you? Did you find someone who could fawn over your righteous attitude, which is a fucking cold front?"

"…" His blue eyes darken, frosting over his icy shield. It's better not to make a comment. To say anything would be a reaction; to say nothing would be a reaction. To move, to talk, to breathe – they're all reactions, pissing off the bitchy brat who had finally returned home.

"Ne, Karin-chan, let's go." Yuzu mumbles, her warm hands brushing Karin's cold skin. "I have to make you a feast, don't I?"

And the youngest Kurosaki closes her eyes, counting to ten as she imagines kicking the goals into the net, bashing into the face of the goalkeeper – Hitsugaya Toushirou.

She shoots—

—she scores!

And the goalie is left with a disfigured face.

Take that, you bloody bastard.

"… yeah. You're right. We're done here." A sheepish grin spreads across her face, as her eyelids flicker open, amused at the image. "And I haven't shown you my car!" Purposely, she avoids looking at the host.

"Whatever. The old man is probably calling the fire brigade by now." Ichigo scratches the back of his orange head, hiding his relief. At least this time her temper didn't completely ruin the atmosphere, and that Yuzu had quickly diverted most of her attention and prevented any injuries from happening.

The three Kurosakis share a look.

"Again."

They walk past him, in different rhythms, wreaking havoc to orchestrated silence. A cold breeze passes him by, gentle as Yuzu spares him one last glance, mocking as Karin stomps to the door, her irritation still visible in the noise she makes, bored as Ichigo opens the damn door.

He frowns as his hands dig into his pockets, exhaling heavily.

Kurosakis. Who needs them?

Chaos is easily formed whenever they are around. To them, it's as natural as breathing. Yuzu attracts it, skimming the surface, her fingers barely touching. Isshin gains its attention, through the ridiculous antics that he plots. Ichigo ignores it until it is too late; angering the chaotic beast and so it charges full speed at him with no remorse. As for Karin? Kurosaki Karin who used to play soccer and badmouthed anything that ticked her off? She gains velocity, swinging her leg into the air and waits for the ball to ricochet off her red soccer shoes and torpedo into the goal, nearly breaking the net.

Goal.

She makes chaos manifest into its worst form. She always brings out the worst in people.

And so she speaks; the sound of her voice soft. Her temper has waned, dark blue eyes shifting from swirling infuriation to sorrowful regret. Hands, bony skeletons, touch the door frame.

"I'm…"

Words choke on her throat, dying on her tongue. Tresses of black hair stumble past her shoulder as she looks down, biting her lip. She's never apologized to that jerk – ever! Yet she can't stand leaving it like that and Ichi-nii and Yuzu would interrogate her later, pressuring her – although it would most likely be Yuzu's influence since Ichi-nii didn't care either way – to apologize.

She slides her hands into her back pockets. It's probably better to face him and say it. Those damn three words, simplified into two. Sighing, she stamps one boot onto the ground, mustering up her resolve. Pointlessly, the amused air that escapes through her siblings' lips, are caught in her ear.

Looking down, Karin sees her black boots; looking left, she sees the door frame; looking right, the same. And so she grits her teeth, biting her lips once more and turns around.

"… trying to be civil."

You're stalling, you fool! A voice whispers; placing a hand on the reflective surface. Say the words, if you can…

But it's not going to do anything to help. The damage is done, and like your brother, you have no idea on how to fix it.

"I'm not the same stupid girl that you knew when I was last here, or even, before that." The words flow a little easier as she finds a way to channel her apology, walking across the stage to find her place and say the words with sincerity. "I have changed, even if I am a little messed up. But you can blame the old man for that, right?" She looks away, her eyes rummaging his house visually. A giggle slips past her lips, and she tucks her hair back behind her ear. "If you think about it, you can blame everything on that man. Where was I… oh yeah!"

Her aura brightens, and it's almost as if the clouds are clearing away, and making some room for the blue sky.

"I want to say… I really want to say…" She bobs her head, her tongue probing for words that flee from being said. It's a pretty good depiction of a duck. "… that…" Cheeks flushing, she internally curses, wondering why saying sorry is so hard when it comes to Hitsugaya Toushirou.

Dark blue eyes shift. "I want…" The words aren't easy, and blue irises dilate and contract as she blinks and catches her eye on the mirror. "… to say…" Her eyes return to the mirror, widening. She pales, white as bone. That wasn't a trick of the light. "… shit."

Ichigo starts coughing as his hand reaches for Karin's arm and tugs her into his embrace. Except she's not moving. Or breathing. Or thinking.

She's crashing into reality; smashing through borders known as acceptance.

"Um. We'll be going now." Ichigo gruffly says, as Yuzu offers a weak smile, bowing as she closes the door.

"Thank you very much, Toushirou-kun. Sorry about the inconveniences caused." Her voice is the last thing he hears, before being swallowed up in silence and his lonely prison.

Huh. That was odd.

She hates mirrors. The whole Kurosaki family hate mirrors.

Different characters played by one actor share the same face, and show the world that they're a liar, playing another person who isn't them. Mirrors, shiny and reflective, show the truth that doesn't want to be seen. Mirrors show the imperfections and layers upon layers of make-up that actors try to smear on top of their faces to try and create an illusion that cannot be recognised as 'them'. Mirrors can be shattered and still show a reflection, painting a refracted image that is another aspect of the picture.

Mirrors show the dead who refuse to move on. The Kurosakis are among the few who can see and hear them.

"Fuck. That wasn't a joke; she really is dead."

And Karin has just seen the ghost of Kuchiki Rukia.