Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or the name Kurosaki Masaki, both are owned by Tite Kubo. My OC belongs to me under the Mai. All other OCs belong to me as well.
Feedback: Reviews feed my muse, so please review! They make the best belated birthday gift ever. Like Hisagi and Renji, August is my birthday month. No flames though. Thank you to all my reviewers, you guys are so wonderful.
AN: This is a shorter chapter than usual to further set up the plot as I transition the story. A drawing of Masaki's Zanpakutō spirit is now on my deviantArt page, so check that out.
Edited formatting: 2/24/18
Darkness shrouded her, covering her in a thick opaque blanket of nothingness. Try as she might, all her eyes could see was black. She wasn't sure if she should move. She couldn't make out what lay before her or around her.
The ominous darkness continued to stare at her, daring her to move, threatening to take her into its depths and become one with its obscure world. Taking a tentative step forward, her foot touched solid ground. Placing a hand in front of her, she took another step and then another. Carefully she edged forward, eyes seeking something, anything, ears alert for any sound or movement.
Then, suddenly, she caught sight of a small pinprick of light shining in the distance…It disappeared from her view so quickly she almost thought she had imagined it. Taking a second glance in the direction where she had seen the small twinkling of light, she saw it again.
And again.
Blinking brightly in the distance, the light resembled a glowing star hidden in a velvety black sky.
It looked so far away, but without another thought, she headed towards it. The distance had lessened, and yet the light continued to look so far away…The darkness though had tapered away, allowing her at least to see better.
She was almost there. Almost.
Pumping her legs as fast she could, she raced across the remaining the distance, watching as the small light, grew larger and larger. She was almost there…Just a couple of more steps and she would reach it….
"Where the hell have you been, Masaki?"
Masaki froze and turned her head slowly. Amethyst eyes widening, she said, "T-Toshi…Y-You're here…"
"I've been here. Now the question is where have you been?" Toshi said.
He was a short, young Shinigami with spiky, snow-white hair lined with fiery red streaks that gave the impression his hair contained flames. He bore a resemblance to Tōshiro, but his eyes were a warm chocolate brown color. He was dressed in the standard Shihakushō; a scarlet sash held together by a bronze flame shaped pin ran around his shoulders and across his chest, holding in place a Zanpakutō bearing a red-orange hilt on his back. On his left arm, white cloth bound a fukutaichō armband. Its insignia hidden from Masaki's view.
"Toshi, are you real?" Masaki asked, continuing to stare at him with wide amethyst eyes.
The sky above them was a greyish blue and the white crescent shape of the moon twinkled. They were on a hill and behind Toshi there was a backdrop of buildings, a city—the Seireitei. Masaki's eyes slowly moved past Toshi, taking in the sights behind him.
"Of course, I'm real." He stared at her suspiciously. "What's a matter with you? First, you're skipping out on your duties, and now you're questioning if I'm real? Are you taking a page out of my book? Because just to let you know it's not going to work." He gave her a sidelong glance. "What happened, Masaki? You were only supposed to go to the—"
"I-I know," Masaki interrupted. "It's just…" Her voice faltered as hesitation glimmered in her gaze. She lowered her eyes to the ground, her right hand absently gripping the pommel of her Zanpakutō.
"It's just what?" Toshi pressed. "Where did you go? Your taichō had Nee-san and me looking for you."
"Sorry, it's just I-I got sidetracked," Masaki explained, raising her gaze from the floor.
"Sidetracked?" Toshi repeated. "How in the world do you get sidetracked when you just went…" he trailed off, narrowing his eyes. "Is this because of—"
"No," Masaki said sharply, her amethyst eyes coolly meeting his brown orbs.
"Then what?" he asked, suspicion clouding his eyes as though he wasn't convinced."Why else…"
"I don't know how to explain..." she started, cutting him off. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you…"
"Oh, really?" He lifted an eyebrow. "Try me," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, looking as though he was trying to appear stern.
"I don't know. I think I might have been dreaming but…"
"Dreaming?" he repeated. "You fell asleep?" he said incredulously. "You're kidding, right? C'mon, Masaki, what really happened? "
"It's the truth," she said, staring Toshi dead in the eye. "I don't know why but I guess I must have fallen asleep…Because all I remember is this weird dream… where I went to the past, not like a couple of decades ago, but over more than a century during the Winter War. It was all thanks to Urahara—"
"W-What?" Toshi interrupted her. "He must have drugged you or something… Damn him…He said you hadn't even seen him. That liar…What kind of experiments are those? Making you have weird, crazy dreams," he said, dropping his arms to the side. "Wait 'til the sōtaichō hears about this…No wait until your taichō and dad hears about this… He's so dead. And even if he isn't I will personally burn him…"
"No, if that's the case, I will personally deal with him," Masaki said, her violet gaze glittering icily.
"Ah, but…"Toshi protested.
"No, Toshi, I will deal with him after I see my taichō," Masaki said firmly, giving him a look that brooked no arguments.
"Fine, but can I at least watch?" Toshi asked, his lips curving into a grin.
"Maybe," she considered, her lips quirking into a small smile. She walked past him and he turned to follow her, exposing the insignia on his badge: the number three and the marigold flower.
"Oh, c'mon, I need some entertainment…"
"Don't you have work to do?" she asked, amusement shining in her eyes.
"Ah, there's always work," Toshi said, waving his hand dismissively. "This on the other hand is a rare opportunity to witness—"
"I was out all day," Masaki commented as she stared at the sky. "Sorry, it's just in the dream it felt like I was gone for days ...I-It felt so real…"Masaki raised a hand to the side of head and rubbed it. "I'm glad it was just one day," Masaki said, relieved. "But what was I doing here? I'm going to…" she stopped when she noticed Toshi staring at her with a puzzled yet concerned expression.
"What is it, Toshi?"
He shifted his gaze away from her to the ground.
"Toshi," Masaki said once more when he didn't reply, her voice taking on a more demanding tone.
"Masaki," he said slowly, still avoiding her gaze. "You…You weren't missing for just a day."
"What do you mean?" she demanded, her brow wrinkling. "How long was I gone?"
He hesitated for a moment before saying, "It hasn't been days, it's been years. Twenty years to be exact."
"W-What?" Masaki's eyes widened, as she came to a halt. "H-How could it have been that long? It can't be…It was just days ago…" She reached out and grabbed Toshi's shoulder. "I mean, I couldn't have been asleep for days let alone years!…No way… "Her eyes suddenly narrowed as they stared down into Toshi's chocolate brown orbs. "You're joking, right?" Annoyance flashed in her eyes, as her grip tightened around his shoulder. "Toshi," she said warningly. "If this is your idea of a joke…."
"I'm not joking," Toshi shook his head, looking serious.
"That can't be true," Masaki said, her grip tightening further around his shoulder.
"Sorry, Masaki, but—"Toshi started. The shoulder beneath Masaki's hand crumbled into Reishi, floating away into the sky. His neck, his chin, face, and eyes soon followed along with his lower body.
"T-Toshi!" Masaki yelled, horrified.
Masaki awoke with a start, breathing hard as she sat up quickly. Glancing at her surroundings, she found herself sitting on a futon in a small dim room, the only light coming from a little window. The room was simple. Bare white walls surrounded her and on in the left-hand corner there was a closet. Beside her rested a white sheath containing a Zanpakutō with a rectangular bronze guard adorned with two large diamonds stretched horizontally across it and two smaller ones positioned vertically around a royal purple hilt.
"This isn't my room…." she whispered, confused and alarmed. Her eyes fell on a small pink haired girl sleeping peacefully beside her in a futon of her own.
Wrinkling her brow as she stared at the young Shinigami girl, Masaki murmured, "Y-Yachiru-san?"
Yachiru snored lightly, rubbing her cheek on the pillow as she mumbled something and smiled.
"It's not a dream….This is real," Masaki said to herself after a few moments, her eyes shining with recollection. Reaching over to her neck, she grabbed the black necklace encircling it with her right hand while she used her other hand to rub her forehead, brushing her bangs to the side. "I am in the past…"
A woman in her early forties with cinnamon colored hair and dark brown eyes dabbed the sweat off a small dark haired boy's forehead with a light blue cloth. The boy moaned slightly, his eyes flickering slightly open before they closed again.
"Kei," whispered Hiro. He was lying on a futon that was several feet away from Kei beside Ryo, who was turned to the side, snoring.
"Hiro-kun, are you awake?" the woman asked, glancing in the direction of the spiky haired boy.
"Uh huh," the boy murmured, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. "How's Kei?" he quickly asked, before the woman could say anything. Her dark gaze had looked as though she was going to tell him off.
Dipping the cloth she had been using to clean Kei's forehead in a small pan containing water, she let it rest a few moments before taking it out, wringing it, and placing it across Kei's forehead.
"His fever has returned," the woman said quietly. Hiro frowned disappointed. Noticing this, the woman said, "Never you mind, Hiro-kun. He'll get better. You should go back to bed."
"But," Hiro protested.
"Worrying about him isn't going to help him," the woman pointed out. "You need to keep your own health up, so go back to bed. Not getting enough sleep will end up getting you sick too. You don't want to end up sick, now do you?"
Hiro stayed silent, biting his lip as he stared at Kei's feverish form. The latter was murmuring in a low voice, his forehead wrinkling beneath the blue cloth as beads of sweat rolled down his face.
"Hiro-kun," the woman began, her tone serious yet kind. Her dark eyes stared right at him, imploring him to do as she had said.
Hiro stared at her, looking as though he was debating what to do. She continued to stare at him, nodding her head for him to go back to sleep. "Don't worry about a thing, Hiro-kun, I'll be keeping watch over Kei-kun."
"O-Okay, I-I'm going back to bed, Mina-san." He plopped back down on his futon, scrambling to place the shabby tan covers over his body.
Reaching over for the cloth again, Mina's eyebrows furrowed as the palm of her hand met with Kei's heated skin. Her hand recoiled from the touch, feeling as though she had just touched warm metal.
Pursing her lips, she wrung the cloth again, letting the sweat along with the water that had remained in the cloth from its previous submersion, fall into the bucket below. She proceeded to wet the cloth and reapply it to his forehead.
She grabbed a cup from the floor, placed a hand around the back of Kei's head, and lifted the cup to his lips. "Kei-kun, c'mon, drink some water."
The boy barely opened his eyes as he sipped the liquid.
"Grrrrr!"
"Ahhhh!" A Shinigami screamed as he sailed through the air, slamming into some crates. Splinters flew in the air surrounding the man as he burst through them and collided into a house. Blood dripped from his temples, as he drew sharp, painful breaths, his katana held tightly in his right hand.
A huge creature with a menacing white mask loomed over the Shinigami, fangs dripping with saliva, eyes gleaming with eagerness as its car sized clawed hands lowered.
"Hadō 31: Shakkahō."
Red light lit the area, clashing against the Hollow's clawed hands. Smoke appeared then cleared exposing minimal damage. The Hollow turned swinging his arm to knock away the Shinigami that had interrupted it from devouring his meal.
The Shinigami—a pale, longhaired young man—leapt back joining his other companions, who were staring at the creature before them with dismal yet determined expressions.
"Damn this guy," muttered a male Shinigami with a long mustache. He wiped the sweat off his forehead quickly as he regarded their opponent.
One of his companions charged forward, katana ready to cut the Hollow only for it to slice through air and find himself with blood dripping down his slashed chest.
"Nakamura!"
The attacked Shinigami slumped forward to the ground with his eyes and mouth wide open. Horror and anger flashed across the faces of his teammates.
"You'll pay for that!" cried a Shinigami, raising his Zanpakutō.
"No!" yelled the longhaired Shinigami, gripping the man's shoulder before he could launch himself against the Hollow. "We have to work together. Going at it alone won't help. That Hollow is far stronger than us."
"But," the man started, but then nodded in agreement, as his gaze slid from the longhaired Shinigami to his comrade's prone body and his other injured teammate and finally to the monster, who had done the damage. "Okay, let's do this."
"Alright," the longhaired man said, dropping his hand away from his companion's shoulder. He glanced at his three other companions. "Listen guys, I have a plan."
All the men looked weary, including the injured Shinigami who was ready to join the battle again, but they gave tight nods, ready to listen to their orders. Taking turns to wear down the Hollow, the men worked furiously, lashing out with their Zanpakutō and Kidō. A claw to the head caught one man, acid burned through another, and a punctured hole through the stomach and chest of the others rendered their efforts to nothing.
The Hollow roared triumphantly as he eagerly feasted upon the fallen souls of the Shinigami.
Dark as the night itself, the creature moved with easy grace, blending with the shadows. Moving so stealthily, its paws made no noise. There was no rustling of leaves as it traveled along the darkened foliage.
Slipping past a bush, the sleek creature moved silently toward a hunched figure wearing a dark looking cloak. Golden eyes gleamed as it approached its target.
"Yoruichi-san," the man spoke, reaching over to grab a green and white hat that had been lying beside him just as the cat approached him.
He plopped it back on his head, the brim falling low on his forehead. Keeping his back to the cat, he continued to watch the water before him.
"Kisuke," the feline acknowledged the man, speaking in a man's voice. The cat trotted quietly until it reached Kisuke's side, settling beside him.
"How was your walk, Yoruichi-san?" Kisuke asked, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
The cat didn't say anything for a moment. Golden eyes stared out at the riverbank shining with the moon's reflection, the field beyond it, and its blades of grass twirling here and there with the soft rustling of the cool night air.
"There have been rumors about an illness spreading throughout Rukongai," Yoruichi said. "Every district I've come across there's been cases. Some seem to be more affected than others did, but all the same symptoms—fatigue, headaches, coughing, and high fevers. It looks as though an epidemic is spreading."
"A selective epidemic," she added as an afterthought. "Only those with Reiryoku appear to have obtained the illness." She glanced at Kisuke, who still hadn't looked at her. He looked lost in thought. The black feline narrowed her eyes, mouth parting to speak, but before she could say anything, a male voice cut through the silence.
"It's happening, isn't it?"
Yoruichi and Kisuke turned around to find a grim faced Kurosaki Isshin dressed in a Shihakushō with a tattered white haori draped around his left arm.
Isshin met Kisuke's gaze. The blonde man lifted a hand to the brim of his hat, pushing it down slightly, casting his darkened face under the night to darken even more.
"I'm afraid so," Kisuke admitted reluctantly. "I was hoping he wouldn't resort to this."
"Me too," Isshin said, sighing wearily. "You'd think having dominion over the Arrancar and Hollows alike would be enough for him."
"You'd think," Yoruichi muttered in agreement.
"It would certainly make things simpler," Kisuke said, "but I'm afraid it's too late now for that."
"Ugh," moaned a middle-aged man, dressed in a white robe. Rumpled covers covered his lower half. He was lying on a bed in a brightly lit room. Standing over him was a young woman with curly chestnut hair dressed in a pink nurse's outfit complete with a pink hat. She was clutching a chart on which she was scribbling some notes. Finishing her task, she placed a hand on the man's forehead.
"His fever still hasn't let up," she said, glancing at another woman with pale blonde hair, who was tending to another man in a bed across from her.
"His hasn't either," replied the blonde woman. Glancing across the room that was filled with dozens of occupied beds, her brow creased worriedly. "I've never seen so many cases like this."
"I know," the curly haired woman murmured. "It's crazy. This room is almost full, and there are so many people in the others waiting to be tested. I hope they aren't all sick."
"I know, but we have just to have to concentrate on doing our job, okay?" the blonde woman said, pressing a cool cloth to her patient's forehead. "You heard what Unohana-taichō said."
"I know."
"My subordinates have already been sent to the Fourth Division for testing," Toshiro reported, his face grim.
Standing beside him was Byakuya, wearing his usual aloof face. Jūshirō was sitting across from them in front of a table scattered with pages and several books.
"So have mine," Jūshirō said, dark eyebrows furrowed tightly. His elbows rested on the wooden surface of the desk, and his intertwined fingers were curled underneath his chin. "This is just…" he trailed off unable to finish. His face radiated disgust and concern.
The room pulsated with a thick weary tension.
"Quarantining will help limit the exposure," Byakuya stated.
"Yes, but still…what about the people in Rukongai, the Shinigami still out there?" Jūshirō pointed out.
"The Shinigami are doing their duty. The Hollows must be exterminated," Byakuya said matter of fact.
"I know, but regardless we cannot expect them to stay there…and condemn them," Jūshirō said, looking disconcerted.
"The sōtaichō has already made his order."
"Whether we like it or not, the bastard has made it so we have no choice but to as we are doing," Tōshiro said, his voice clearly laced with disgust and anger.
Expressions of agreement settled on the noble and white haired man.
Quick Glossary:
Reiryoku- spirit energy/spiritual power