While I know this style might be a little slow, I felt like it would be nice to keep this first pacing a bit slow. At least there's more dialogue in this second chapter, I know sometimes I get too introspective in stories, so I figured a small dialogue scene would be good.
Also, if it gets a little grating about not knowing who the main character is (Although it's probably obvious when you realize what event I was describing last chapter) just know that by next chapter I intend to make sure that our character has a name to them.
On the edges of consciousness he can sense something shifting around him, something just out of his reach that flitters away when he reaches for it, like a butterfly he used to chase while mother watched and laughed, her eyes shining with love and affection for his childish antics.
He's not sure why but the thought aches in his chest, feels like heartburn except he knows he's far too young to experience that.
A slight shift of his body causes a whimper, and he's awake now and all too aware of what's happened and there's nothing more he wants than to go back to sleep and forget everything that's happened.
He was dead, what use did he have for waking?
Except he knows that mother and father would be disappointed if he gave up, and so with difficulty he forces his eyes open against the light of the sun and his body is moving to stand against the protesting pain all over his body.
Not sure if it's some leftover ache from dying that he didn't experience last night or if it's some new side effect of continuing to be dead but his weight is lead in his bones and glass in his veins. Soft whimpers protest against the movements, yet he can't lie on the riverbank forever.
It's when he's fully standing that the entire weight of what's happened hits him and depression sinks its soft and whispery claws into his heart. Staring up at the place where his life ended is intense and stressing.
It was better, before he'd died. When he was just a nine year old and had a mother and a family and was out for a walk before returning home to have a dinner he'll never have now. Return to a family and joking conversations he'll never hear now.
Young he may be but he understood there was a reason there were no widespread stories of loved ones coming back to spend time with their family. Whatever this was he found himself in now, there was no way he was going to be able to go back to how he had lived.
His hands are on his chest now, fingers pressing tight against the spot over his heart and rubbing at the spot there that felt the sorest from the pain. A habit he's never been able to break, something his mother found adorable.
Even through the pain in his body he can sense a different kind of pain, somewhere on the top of his head. A frown flits across his face and he reaches up almost lazily to press his fingers into his hair and presses hard against his scalp. Searches for the spot that hurts the most.
When he finds it there's a pained gasp, because it feels like his scalp has been ripped open and he can feel a smooth circle of pure bone under his fingers. Hot tears are forming in his eyes and he's not sure why this is making him cry, but somewhere in his once-more splintering mind is the true realization- the true gut punch that he has died because there's no way his skull could be poking out of him after all this otherwise.
That noise from last night is making its way through his throat and he squeezes his eyes shut tight against the tears trying to break loose from him. Hands are clenched tight together in front of his heart now, trying to block out the pain, to calm down, to make sense of this situation before everything once more shatters into pieces around him. He knows if it happens again he'll be too lost to pick everything back up and keep going to whatever it is he's working towards now.
Vast seconds later through oblivions of pain he can release his grip on his hands, and when he opens his eyes to look down at them he can see blood from where his nails have dug in deep.
He doesn't know why it's possible, but the sight of blood from this strange body is confusing. He's certainly dead, how can he bleed?
Utter fascination is what leads to him pressing his nails hard against his arm, causing more blood to slip through the tears that his nails cause. The pain that came with it was unexpected; he hadn't known someone dead could feel pain. Hissing under his breath, he pulls his hand away before putting it back to rub soothingly at the marks.
There's not much reason to stay here, but at the same time there's not much reason to go either. He's not sure which one he wants to do, but he knows more than anything else he doesn't want to look at the water. He's scared he'll see his skull poking out of his head and then he'll be screaming all over again and he thinks that he's had enough of screaming for the moment. No amount of screaming is going to help him in the situation he's in.
"I'm just going to go and whatever I find is what I find," he says to his hands, nodding as though agreeing with himself. He doesn't want to think about what it might signify that he would be talking to himself, he's never done that before.
Perhaps death changes people in more ways than he had imagined. Yet he thinks it isn't death that's added this to him, and that's a scarier thought.
He has to steel himself against leaving this area, because despite the fact there's no real reason to stay here he can't fight the small belief that if he does stay here his family will come back and then he'll know what's happened.
It takes more than that small belief to shake his determination to leave though, and so he crawls up the embankment onto the hill of the riverbank. Stands there and stares down across the grass at the water that claimed his life, a silent goodbye to all he once had and a greeting to all that will happen.
This time it isn't even hard to turn away from the sight and walk away from the scene, down the grass to the sidewalk there.
Once he's there he realizes that he doesn't really know where he's supposed to be going. He may remember his life but for some reason it felt like the pathways between here and home were simply gone without a trace, he's not sure if he should be going right or left, or if it's some other direction he can't tell from here. The house he would know as soon as he saw it, but getting to it…
Chews on his lip and tastes blood in his mouth, eyes darting from one path to another in indecisiveness. Whatever way he goes now will be the way that's going to stick with him for life, because he isn't sure if he'll ever be able to come here. This was the only tie he had to his life, and if he went the wrong way who knew if he'd ever be able to find his way home. It wasn't like he could ask someone.
However he knows someone special to him would never let him live it down if he stayed here forever because he was scared, and so he steels himself and spits out the blood in his mouth. Walks forward onto the right path and doesn't look back once, back ramrod straight despite the heavy thunking feeling of each foot hitting the ground and dragging behind him just slightly.
The grass is bright green under the sun and sways in the breeze, looking like there was a slight drizzle this morning from the wetness of the blades there. He can't tell though because his clothes aren't wet, although they might have dried in the sun during sleep.
Pavement is dark black under his feet and the sun is so far overhead there's only the slightest of shadows underneath him, which makes him curious. He can have a shadow? That kind of thing was possible? He wondered if regular people could see it, or if it would be as invisible as he must be to them.
The walk felt draining to him, and he had to plop down in the grass once again to rest what felt only a few minutes later. Although he was pleased to note the hill he'd come from was in the distance and hardly viewable from here, so that must mean he'd at least been able to walk quite a ways before needing rest.
Legs are pulled up against his chest and arms are wrapped around them so he could rest his chin on the very tops of them. Despite the fact it felt a bit sharp on his chin, he felt content and safe here. As though nothing could possibly get to him while he was like this.
It's only now he remembers something must have killed him. Something he couldn't see at the time. Fear prickles at him and the hair on his neck is rising into the air, head lifting off his knees to look dartily around him as though some giant creature was going to rush him to finish off the job it had started.
Nothing came at him, but that doesn't stop his fear. He gets back to his feet despite the effort and continues off down the path, moving faster now though it's wearing him down more than before. He wants to get as far away as he can from that place, because the nature shows he watched had said predators stayed near water sources. They stayed near weak animals to hunt them down, sometimes just for the sport of it.
He walks down the past and muses over his life. The darkest part of his heart hides his secret; he wants to test if he can remember.
His father, Kurosaki Isshin. A man who was strange, who cried over portraits of their friends and let his children watch horror movies late at night while mother was asleep. Otherwise she would get angry at him, although he'd laugh it off and still end up getting out of a scolding.
His mother, Kurosaki Masaki. The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, who could scold you and make you feel as if the sun and moon were burning and shining alternatively in your heart. Her punishments were strict but the love within them made it impossible to be bitter.
His sisters, Kurosaki Karin and Kurosaki Yuzu. They were opposites of each other, but he loved them just the same. Karin acted like a tough girl but he knew she had a soft, gooey core that put her in tears at the thought of someone being hurt. Yuzu had a gooey outer shell with a hard inner shell, she could cry at the drop of a hat but if the situation got intense she was steely-eyed and ready to take on the day.
And he… he was… he was…
Who was he?
Kurosaki who?
Eyes burning from the tears, he gnawed on his lip again and ignored the blood he once again felt. How could he not know who he was? He was a Kurosaki, he was a Kurosaki and he belonged to the family and how could he not even remember his own name?
Soft whimpers welled up from his very being, agonized to lose what was truly his and what made him who he was. The name that had been given to him by his family and what he'd been known by for so long. How could someone not even know who they were, yet could remember everything else?
Sheer force of will kept him walking through all this, and it's only when he realizes his insides feel heavy and tight in him that he snaps back to what's around him and he realizes his vision is blocked. With a shriek he falls back, straight out of a cart that was across the pathway.
Sharp in-out breaths, hand held tight over his heart with shirt bunched up in his fist. It takes him a minute to understand what just happened, although it makes sense to him once it does.
Of course he could go through things; it was rather silly to believe otherwise. He must be some kind of spirit if he was dead, and spirits weren't bound to the regular physical world. If he wasn't careful he could easily end up straight through someone's house, and then he'd be incredibly ashamed and embarrassed.
Someone was standing behind the cart, checking over the food in it that they would be selling for the day. He was on his feet and leaning hard over the cart counter to stare directly at them unashamed, going through the counter slightly in his haste.
"H-hello, sir, can you see me, can you help me, do you know who I am?"
The words were out in a rush of breath and didn't sound recognizable to his ears, more like a single breath with vowels garbled into it but he couldn't pay attention to that because there was a person here and maybe they could-
Tongs passed through him, a cold wriggling feeling produced inside him from the action, and brings out some kind of fruit from the stand to put into a cup beside the man which was then closed and placed on top of other cups on the side of the cart.
His mouth closed with an audible click and he pulled back from the cart slowly, eyes flicking across the man's face to take in the pitch dark eyes between wrinkles and the heavy set of the man's mouth as he frowned down at the produce in his cart.
An old man, perhaps he'd been laid off and a vendor was the only job he could take up. He wondered why the man was choosing a place like this by the river, but then he realized he wasn't at the riverbank anymore. His wandering feet had led him straight into a side district near a forest. A path that people would be walking on as they went through the park. Something about the place was fuzzy in his mind, just out of his reach.
"Mister, isn't it a little early to be out here like this?" he asks, knowing the man wasn't going to hear him. It felt nice to be able to talk with someone near, as though for just this moment he wasn't some wandering spirit trying to find his way home but a little boy who'd gotten lost and curious.
"I mean, there's no one else here and they might not be here for a little while…"
The old man was frowning now and picking out some fruits with his tongs, inspecting the red berries carefully and turning them over in the air so he could see all sides of them. Some were tossed into a small garbage bag on the side of the cart opposite of the cups. He leaned in close to see inside the bag, curiously looking at the red and green berries that were mushy looking.
"I know what those are, but I just don't remember the name…" he says softly to himself, frowning just as deeply as the old man now. This must be another side effect of dying, not being able to remember certain names of things.
"I hope you don't mind if I stay here for a while, mister, I'm feeling really tired and I have a long way to go if I can find my way."
The man just grunts as he tosses away one more of the berries and returns to putting them into cups. The little boy smiles and takes that as acceptance and settles onto the ground beside the man. Watches him as he's working.
It's less lonely now that there's another person here, even if the old man can't see him. Makes it feel real, as though this was the real world and wasn't some intense nightmare he was having or that he was in hell suffering through intense periods of nothing.
There was also the belief that whatever had killed him wouldn't come to finish him off with someone else there, even if it was an old man.
It's not much later when the old man's finished packing the berries into cups. He leans against the cart and looks almost contently down the path opposite where the spirit sat.
Time passes as the spirit watches the sun and the man alternatively. The man just shifts sometimes, humming under his breath at certain intervals. Little hums the spirit can't fully comprehend, he thinks he knows what the man is singing but it slips out of his grasp as soon as he latches onto it.
Then the man straightens up and coughs in his throat as though to clear it, and he's sitting up to see around the cart at what has gotten the man's attention. There's some people walking down the path, a young boy and girl holding hands and swinging them together back and forth through the air. He wrinkles his nose at the action, recognizing them as boyfriend and girlfriend.
Said people stopped in front of the cart and the boy's hand goes up to wave at the old man standing there smiling at them.
"Jadak, it's nice to see you here today. You weren't here yesterday," the boy says teasingly to the man. The girl beside him is nodding, all smiles yet there's some worry the spirit can see in her brown eyes.
Jadak, the old man, is smiling wider at the comment and throws back his head to laugh. "Well yes, I had some troubles with the missus getting herself locked out of the house you see. Couldn't just stand here sellin' these berries all day while she's sittin' on the porch in the sun."
The girl's brown eyes soften and warm up at the same time and she tucks a strand of blond hair behind her ear.
"I was so worried something had happened to you!" she says almost scoldingly, though still smiling. "You have not taken a day of work off for a month now; it seemed like such a strange thing for you to do."
Her boyfriend is lightly pressing his elbow into her side with a large grin. "Now, now, Anabel, even a dedicated man like Jadak can take a break every so often if it's necessary!"
Jadak laughs again while Anabel puffs out her cheeks and gives her boyfriend a playful glare.
"The young couple would like their favorite treats then?" Jadak asks as he looks between them with those warm pitch eyes.
By now the spirit's stood and settled between the couple- whatever space is there at least- and he's staring between these people like they're something he's never seen before and he wants to observe them as much as he can.
He has to jump back when the boyfriend's hand wraps its way around Anabel's waist and pulls her against him. Sulks as he's forced to move to the side of them to watch from that angle.
"I would like to have five cups this time, if you'd please," boyfriend says to the man, giving him a softer smile than before. Almost sad if looked at closely.
Jadak must have caught the sadness, because he's looking attentively at the boy for some kind of explanation.
Anabel cuts in before her boyfriend can say anything, "You see Daiki had a bad bout of the stomach flu last week and we had to take him to the clinic in town to get it looked at."
The old man nods in understanding, a slight smile crossing his lips for a reason the spirit can't understand.
"The man there took care of me in a way no other doctor's ever done before, and he was always joking around. Even had his kids at the office with him, most adorable bunch I've ever seen," the boyfriend adds in to his girlfriend's story.
They share a sad look however, smiles suddenly dropping.
"We heard that… that his wife died," Anabel says softly, eyes down on the ground to hide the tears that the spirit can see from his height.
"I thought they'd like to have something sweet to cheer them up, the funeral was yesterday," boyfriend says as he tightens his arm around his girl to comfort her.
Jadak is staring at them intently now, mouth pressed into a tight line across his face. He doesn't move for a few moments before snapping into action and before the spirit can blink there's five cups of berries on the cart in front of the couple.
"You take those on the house," the man says sharply, intensity in his voice making the spirit's mouth open in awe.
The couple also looked at him as though they couldn't understand what he was saying. "W-what?"
Instead of responding the old man nods sharply and points his tongs at the cups.
"That man has been kind to everyone he treats, and me'n'the missus have been treated by him for a long time now. If anyone deserves a show of kindness, it's that man and his family. "
Anabel is nodding in agreement with the man, soft hands taking the cups and placing them into the purse at her side. Her boyfriend is smiling now, unshed tears in his eyes.
"Thank you Jadak," he says softly, "it's not much to give them, but I hope it at least shows them that the world won't be ending and they can keep their heads up."
Old man Jadak nods again and points his tongs down the path the spirit had been sitting by. "You can find 'er grave that way in the cemetery. I'm sure she'd like to have a visit from people 'er husband's taken care of, to hear stories of him and to show 'er that there's people who are going to take care of her family."
Anabel nods while Daiki lightly leads her away from the cart. Daiki calls over his shoulder as Anabel waves, "I'll see you tomorrow Jadak, and don't you think you can get away with giving us free berries next time!"
Jadak is roaring with laughter now, holding his belly tight as though to keep himself together from the intensity. The spirit is already walking after the couple, curious about what they were talking about, wondering if maybe at this cemetery he can find his own grave and know his name.
He almost doesn't catch the man's reply through his thoughts. "You look after yourselves kids, and you tell that Kurosaki all that's on your mind!"
Eyes wide, he has to remind himself to keep walking as his feet stick to the ground like melted plastic. After that he's rushing to keep up with the couple, almost toppling over several times headfirst into the pavement.
His mind is a flurry of thought, racing from one to the next with no coherent order. Isn't even sure what he's thinking now, can't even tell if the couple ahead of him is talking to each other.
The grass and trees around the path turn into just trees, the path darkening as the trees block out the sun from reaching them. It feels almost eerie here, as though mortals were not meant to tread here. Even though he's not mortal anymore, it still feels strange to be here.
Up ahead he can see a large stone archway and a wall stretching out from beside the path, a small metal fence rests on top of the wall, giving it a more beautiful feeling.
It's here that the couple turns into the graveyard and walks down the graves, peeking at each headstone that rests here. The spirit also looks at them, reading different names on them and not recognizing a single one.
The couple must recognize some though, because certain graves they stop at and stare for several minutes at a time. Soft whispers bounce between them that he can't hear even when he tries to lean close to them. His mother would scold him for eavesdropping on something so personal, and so he hangs back to give them the privacy they didn't know he had been trying to ruin.
At the end of the graveyard in an area where there were few other graves they stop in front of a large headstone sticking out of the ground. It's here they both crouch down onto their knees in front of the stone and rest their heads on their hands and whisper soft words of praise and prayer.
He doesn't really understand this behavior, but that's not what's keeping his attention anyway. The stone is.
Kurosaki Masaki.
The name on the headstone dries his mouth. Can't even swallow now, not that he needs to. Air feels tight around him, feels like when he woke up in the river and was drowning yet not-drowning except this time it's panic that's bearing down on him. A predator pouncing on frozen prey and he can't even fight it.
A noise like a dog's whimper is in his throat again, pained and so very agonized. It just can't be possible, it's not possible at all, this is some kind of terrible prank, something that someone's going to pay for because this isn't possible.
His mother can't be dead, not the woman who would tuck him in at night and laugh at his silly comments. The one who made him his favorite breakfast when he wasn't feeling well, who scolded him playfully when he played sick to skip school.
Who loved him beyond everything else, more than any bad or wrong thing that he could ever do. Who had smiled at him while she patted his head and said that he would see a red moon someday.
Tears are running blindly down his cheeks and he's collapsed onto his knees now. Hands shakily reach out to press fingers against the stone in front of him. Nails try to dig into the stone, trying to hurt it and tear it away and make it unreal. To show it for the fake it is.
But he can't, his fingers just pass through the stone, chills shooting up his arms even as a sharp keen comes from him.
"Mother… mother…" he whispers through the pain, trying harder now to tear at the stone. So very futile, but he needs to.
"You can't be dead…"
Distantly he can hear the couple behind him standing and walking away.
"You're not allowed to be dead!"
Pain is turning into anger slowly, molasses in his heart and mind but it's slowly turning, turning. A glacier of pain shifting against the ice underneath to become a rushing landslide.
"How could you do this to me!"
Hand lashes out and this time for a second he feels the stone underneath his nails, feels pain lance through his fingers as the stone takes in the force and sends it back into him. Only feeds the monster glacier.
"I trusted you, mother! You can't just leave me like this! If you're dead then where are you!? Why did you leave me alone like this!"
Keening in his throat becoming an animal's snarl, the need to destroy this prank turning sharper and sharper.
"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, you can't be dead, where are you, you can't leave me alone here mother!"
The stone feels real under his hands again and this time he's able to touch it and press hard against it, feeling the stone of the grave give way under his hand and with a sharp CRACK it's sliding backwards. Broken in two, the stone falls to the ground behind the grave, and he's left panting and staring at what he's done.
His anger is broken just like the stone, and he gasps and isn't able to breathe now.
"M-mother… I'm… I'm so sorry…"
Choking out the words against his gasps, he trips over his feet and lands in the grass as he tries to move to the broken stone. Muffled sobs wrack his body as he lays face first in the grass, babbles for forgiveness through his tears.
Hands slide under him and he shakily pushes himself up, using his sleeve to wipe at his face and wipe his eyes dry. Quivering, he slides his fingers under the stone and tries to push it up, tries to grasp the strength that had broken it in the first place.
But it isn't forthcoming, and the stone lies against the ground despite his struggles to lift it. Frantic panic eats at his insides as he curses and struggles harder, still unable to make the stone move until he gives out in exhaustion and slumps over the headstone.
There is no stopping the sobs that wrack his body now, hands clinging to the stone under him desperately.
"Mother, oh mother, I didn't know what I was doing, please- please forgive me, oh god…"
It's a mantra in his head and voice, one he can't break. He doesn't try.
Underneath the dark trees he sobs on his mother's broken grave, pleading and crying for forgiveness for an act he didn't mean to do. Deep in his heart the beast is there, whispering from within that he'll never get the forgiveness he seeks. His mother is dead and gone.
I'm actually updating pretty quickly on this story from my regular updating schedule. Usually it takes me a while to get something else up, but this story's pretty gripping. I also have the benefit of having a close friend who's intensely interested which gives me a good reason to keep going.
Again, if there's anything strange about the story or if you think a part could be fixed up go ahead and comment on it. I'm all up for revising and editing bits of the chapter to make it better.