Coming with Fanfiction!
Hi! My first time here, and first time posting fanfiction!
Title: When Clouds Part
Author: Colorless-Ink
Genre: Drama/Romance
Pairing: Ichi/Ruki of course!
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or anything that has to do with it.
Summary: AU fic. After losing Rukia Kuchiki, Ichigo tries to put his life back together by giving up his life as a soul reaper. Becoming a ghost hunter and helping people rid of the haunted auras around their houses, what happens when he finds out Rukia is still alive...somewhere?
When Clouds Part
Colorless Ink
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.
…--…--…--…--…--…--…
::The First Raindrop::
…let it fall alone into darkness…
He has grown used to spirit-beings. He has adapted to seeing and hearing how people die-the ways, the last words they say, their last screams, their last looks that they give. He is used to Hollows now, too. Cleansing hundreds of them with his zanpaktou has helped him forget that they-the Hollows-used to be human beings once too.
Yes, he was used to having death surround him. It leaked from walls at night, reeked from the stench of his clothes, decorated every part of his room. Death also appeared every so often in town, floating through the air in the form of ghosts or tromped around as Hollows.
There was also a time when death slept in his closet, and Ichigo would not be able to sleep until he was certain that she was truly there, breathing softly on the other side of the wooden closet door.
Death had become a usual part of his life; and without it, Ichigo was sure that he would go insane.
…--…--…--…--…--…--…
“I’m a ghost hunter.”
Even after ten long years, Ichigo Kurosaki has not changed much. Even Orihime Inoue noticed that.
“I just didn’t want to go through with medical school.” He scratched his orange head. “Is that so bad?”
“Well, I guess I just…it was sort of expected. Please do not see it as offense, Kurosaki-kun.”
He shook his head, his bright orange locks catching a few last rays of the setting sun.
“I don’t take it as offense. Ten years, Orihime.” Ichigo looked at the purple sky, deepening its hues to black; being swallowed by night. “A lot has changed. And I think I’m happier this way. I’m not a nut like my father, you know.”
“But every one of us-Uryu, Chad, even Tatsuki-we all thought you’d become a doctor.” Orihime insisted, tucking a strand of orange hair behind her blue flower clip. Even at 25, she kept her powers in check. Just in case her Kurosaki-kun ever needed help in a battle against Hollows once again.
“Nah. I quit medical school about halfway into it.”
Orihime watched him carelessly look at the grass. Not once has he looked at her since they had began talking.
“And what about Zangetsu?”
Ichigo let out a puff of air through his nose, a painful look settling in his brown eyes. The sun was gone now, all of its glory sinking into the night. In the night air, Ichigo looked even more depressed.
He has lost his glory too, Orihime realized. Without his sun, he is nothing. All of these years, have you been suffering? Have you forgotten Zangetsu? Forgotten your will to fight? Forgotten everything…
…Have you forgotten everything it takes to be Ichigo?
You’ve lost yourself.
“Zangetsu…I’ve allowed him to sleep when…when she died.”
Orihime opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. Her eyes lost their shine.
“You…gave up your powers the day you cam back from the Soul Society?” she shook her head as if this did not make sense. “But all these years…I thought you’ve been tending to the Hollows in Karakura. Who’s been-”
“Soul reapers. You. Chad. Uryu. Urahara.”
Orihime stared at him. He kept his shameful gaze downwards.
“I quit being a soul reaper. And that’s’ why you all lost contact with me in college. I left for a different town. A different place.”
So I wouldn’t walk down the same sidewalks she did. So I wouldn’t breathe the air she did. So I could convince myself that she never entered my life, my soul…
…my heart.
Orihime managed a smile. Forced it out. She forced out words too, and although she has always faked smiles and words, thoughts and feelings, this time, it seemed so much harder.
“Things change, huh?”
Ichigo finally caught her grey eyes. He flashed her a bitter smile.
“Yeah. Everything has changed since that day.”
They both knew that. Understood change. Coped with it.
Maybe Ichigo was used to having change surround his life, too.
…--…--…--…--…--…--…
When he arrived home, death smiled at him from all of the walls. He hung pictures people had sent him; they were asking for his help. Many residents around town took pictures, and in the pictures, there were tiny orbs of light floating on the wall. Behind the picture, a few words were scribbled in pen.
Mr. Kurosaki,
Is this a ghost? Please tell us soon. Send back ASAP.
He took the picture and hung it on the wall with the hundred other ones.
It was comfortable to be his room full of death. It was familiar and somewhat soothing.
…--…--…--…--…--…--…
Ichigo had seen Uryu at the reunion, too.
“So you’re a ghost hunter, I heard?” Uryu had asked, still having the habit of pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose-even after all of these years.
“…Yeah.” Ichigo answered-and he wasn’t sure if he should be proud or embarrassed.
“Tell me, Kurosaki,” he asked in an even tone. “Are you that desperate?”
…--…--…--…--…--…--…
When he wondered why he wanted to become a ghost hunter, it always boiled down to: I wanted to give up being a soul reaper.
But aren’t you still dealing with departed souls?
As long as I didn’t have to wield a sword.
It’s still the same thing. You’re capturing ghosts and communicating with them-whether it be with a sword or a camera.
Half of him always wondered if that by bying a ghost hunter, he would somehow miraculously find Rukia. Even though he knew that it was an impossibility. Her soul had been crushed.
Ah. So you aren’t thinking about your duty as a soul reaper. You becoming a ghost hunter has nothing to do with your duty at all. You’re in love with Rukia Kuchiki…
…I…
He would not answer himself there, and grunt in irritation, losing in his own battle with himself. Ichigo would flip to the side on his cold bed, tuck one arm beneath his head, and watch as the still, dark painting of the outside world hung in his window like a silent picture. At times, he wasn’t sure if his window was showing him the real, alive outside world, or if it was just another picture of a ghost sent to him by some nutcase and he had hung it on his wall.
He couldn’t tell the difference between reality and the imaginary anymore. Rukia had proved that the lines between the two worlds had blurred.
He’d sigh by this point, and flip around and look at the closet she had used to reside in before they had lost each other. Before he had lost her.
Then he would shut his eyes, as if in pain, and curse himself for not ridding of that closet yet.
This routine, this mental talking to himself, and the reminder of her presence, was something he dealt with every night.
…--…--…--…--…--…--…
“What’s your favorite number, Ichigo?”
He had to put his Naruto manga down. Again. “Favorite number?”
“Orihime said hers was 1.” She looked lost in thought for a moment. “Why do humans deal with such trivial things?” She looked up at him again. “Then she told me that 13 was some sort of bad luck number, associated with superstition, death, and blackness.”
Ichigo listened as her voice readily saddened.
“I hate anything that has to deal with blackness and death.”
Quickly, he answered to lighten her mood. “It’s only a stupid superstition.” He picked up his manga and rolled his eyes, snorting. “Don’t listen to what Orihime says and take it to heart, Rukia.”
Rukia was quiet for a moment, staring into the cover of the Naruto manga.
“Well, whether it’s true or not…I guess all the numbers besides 13 are my favorite.”
Ichigo snorted again, mocking her childish thinking. “That’s why I don’t care much for favorite numbers.”
…--…--…--…--…--…--…
“So I guess I can drop by Rukia’s place to see how she’s doing, huh?” Ichigo grinned. “She came back to the Soul Society about a week ago for some Hollow mission; I wanted to come visit to see her.”
Renji stared at the orange-headed teen with a hard, disheartened look. “So you haven’t heard, Ichigo.”
Ichigo drew seriousness on his face. His frown deepened. “Heard what?”
“Rukia…she…” the lieutenant looked away into the sky, placing a hand on the hilt of his zanpaktou. He watched the clouds roll by in their own tranquility. “She had a mission. The Hollow, as you mentioned. And it…killed her.”
Ichigo was sure he felt his heart stop. He almost forgot how to breathe. With a tiny gasp of air, he whispered: “What?”
Another wisp of cloud rolled by.
The lieutenant closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Ichigo searched for an excuse. He watched as Renji himself began to tremble, then felt his own knees quivering.
“You’re lying,” was the only excuse Ichigo could find.
“Why would I lie about this, carrot-top?” Renji whispered angrily, not looking into Ichio’s face.
Ichigo let the words sink in. Only for a second. With a jolt, he grabbed the red-head’s shihaksho.
“You’re lying, Renji!” He demanded.
“I’m not--!”
“Take that back! Tell me you’re lying!” His trembling fists tightened on Renji’s black material. “Say it!”
Renji watched his friend with sad eyes. Watched as Ichigo shook uncontrollably, his teeth gritting, the liquid rising in his eyes. Watched as he closed his eyes, trying to blink his tears away, to surpress his weakness.
“I’m sorry,” was all Renji could muster.
“No!” Ichigo shouted back, using the strength of his voice to try to cover up for his hurt.
Renji did the only thing he could think of. He stuffed his fist into Ichigo’s cheek, sending him sprawling across the grass.
“Don’t lie to yourself,” Renji whispered, and his small voice seemed so much more powerful than anything Ichigo had yelled out.
Ichigo stayed on the grass, facing the blue sky of the Soul Society. He ignored the pain Renji had just sent him, because in a way, it was something that his egotistical pride needed. Needed something to help him break down everything he was feeling. And pain, to Ichigo, was something he could take. Pain, not pity.
Clouds rolled by. Panting, Ichigo began to count.
1…
2…
3…
Rukia can’t possibly be dead.
4…
5…
She can’t leave me…like this.
6…
7…
After all that we’ve been through…
8…
9…
Why wasn’t I there to protect her?
10…
11…
Why didn’t…I…sense anything?
12…
What am I…..
Ichigo knew that it was only coincidence that his mind went blank at that moment, forgetting the next number.
.
.
.
.
.
…--…--…--…--…--…--…
End of 1
Title: When Clouds Part
Author: Colorless-Ink
Genre: Drama/Romance
Pairing: Ichi/Ruki of course!
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or anything that has to do with it.
Summary: AU fic. After losing Rukia Kuchiki, Ichigo tries to put his life back together by giving up his life as a soul reaper. Becoming a ghost hunter and helping people rid of the haunted auras around their houses, what happens when he finds out Rukia is still alive...somewhere?
When Clouds Part
Colorless Ink
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.
…--…--…--…--…--…--…
::The First Raindrop::
…let it fall alone into darkness…
He has grown used to spirit-beings. He has adapted to seeing and hearing how people die-the ways, the last words they say, their last screams, their last looks that they give. He is used to Hollows now, too. Cleansing hundreds of them with his zanpaktou has helped him forget that they-the Hollows-used to be human beings once too.
Yes, he was used to having death surround him. It leaked from walls at night, reeked from the stench of his clothes, decorated every part of his room. Death also appeared every so often in town, floating through the air in the form of ghosts or tromped around as Hollows.
There was also a time when death slept in his closet, and Ichigo would not be able to sleep until he was certain that she was truly there, breathing softly on the other side of the wooden closet door.
Death had become a usual part of his life; and without it, Ichigo was sure that he would go insane.
…--…--…--…--…--…--…
“I’m a ghost hunter.”
Even after ten long years, Ichigo Kurosaki has not changed much. Even Orihime Inoue noticed that.
“I just didn’t want to go through with medical school.” He scratched his orange head. “Is that so bad?”
“Well, I guess I just…it was sort of expected. Please do not see it as offense, Kurosaki-kun.”
He shook his head, his bright orange locks catching a few last rays of the setting sun.
“I don’t take it as offense. Ten years, Orihime.” Ichigo looked at the purple sky, deepening its hues to black; being swallowed by night. “A lot has changed. And I think I’m happier this way. I’m not a nut like my father, you know.”
“But every one of us-Uryu, Chad, even Tatsuki-we all thought you’d become a doctor.” Orihime insisted, tucking a strand of orange hair behind her blue flower clip. Even at 25, she kept her powers in check. Just in case her Kurosaki-kun ever needed help in a battle against Hollows once again.
“Nah. I quit medical school about halfway into it.”
Orihime watched him carelessly look at the grass. Not once has he looked at her since they had began talking.
“And what about Zangetsu?”
Ichigo let out a puff of air through his nose, a painful look settling in his brown eyes. The sun was gone now, all of its glory sinking into the night. In the night air, Ichigo looked even more depressed.
He has lost his glory too, Orihime realized. Without his sun, he is nothing. All of these years, have you been suffering? Have you forgotten Zangetsu? Forgotten your will to fight? Forgotten everything…
…Have you forgotten everything it takes to be Ichigo?
You’ve lost yourself.
“Zangetsu…I’ve allowed him to sleep when…when she died.”
Orihime opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. Her eyes lost their shine.
“You…gave up your powers the day you cam back from the Soul Society?” she shook her head as if this did not make sense. “But all these years…I thought you’ve been tending to the Hollows in Karakura. Who’s been-”
“Soul reapers. You. Chad. Uryu. Urahara.”
Orihime stared at him. He kept his shameful gaze downwards.
“I quit being a soul reaper. And that’s’ why you all lost contact with me in college. I left for a different town. A different place.”
So I wouldn’t walk down the same sidewalks she did. So I wouldn’t breathe the air she did. So I could convince myself that she never entered my life, my soul…
…my heart.
Orihime managed a smile. Forced it out. She forced out words too, and although she has always faked smiles and words, thoughts and feelings, this time, it seemed so much harder.
“Things change, huh?”
Ichigo finally caught her grey eyes. He flashed her a bitter smile.
“Yeah. Everything has changed since that day.”
They both knew that. Understood change. Coped with it.
Maybe Ichigo was used to having change surround his life, too.
…--…--…--…--…--…--…
When he arrived home, death smiled at him from all of the walls. He hung pictures people had sent him; they were asking for his help. Many residents around town took pictures, and in the pictures, there were tiny orbs of light floating on the wall. Behind the picture, a few words were scribbled in pen.
Mr. Kurosaki,
Is this a ghost? Please tell us soon. Send back ASAP.
He took the picture and hung it on the wall with the hundred other ones.
It was comfortable to be his room full of death. It was familiar and somewhat soothing.
…--…--…--…--…--…--…
Ichigo had seen Uryu at the reunion, too.
“So you’re a ghost hunter, I heard?” Uryu had asked, still having the habit of pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose-even after all of these years.
“…Yeah.” Ichigo answered-and he wasn’t sure if he should be proud or embarrassed.
“Tell me, Kurosaki,” he asked in an even tone. “Are you that desperate?”
…--…--…--…--…--…--…
When he wondered why he wanted to become a ghost hunter, it always boiled down to: I wanted to give up being a soul reaper.
But aren’t you still dealing with departed souls?
As long as I didn’t have to wield a sword.
It’s still the same thing. You’re capturing ghosts and communicating with them-whether it be with a sword or a camera.
Half of him always wondered if that by bying a ghost hunter, he would somehow miraculously find Rukia. Even though he knew that it was an impossibility. Her soul had been crushed.
Ah. So you aren’t thinking about your duty as a soul reaper. You becoming a ghost hunter has nothing to do with your duty at all. You’re in love with Rukia Kuchiki…
…I…
He would not answer himself there, and grunt in irritation, losing in his own battle with himself. Ichigo would flip to the side on his cold bed, tuck one arm beneath his head, and watch as the still, dark painting of the outside world hung in his window like a silent picture. At times, he wasn’t sure if his window was showing him the real, alive outside world, or if it was just another picture of a ghost sent to him by some nutcase and he had hung it on his wall.
He couldn’t tell the difference between reality and the imaginary anymore. Rukia had proved that the lines between the two worlds had blurred.
He’d sigh by this point, and flip around and look at the closet she had used to reside in before they had lost each other. Before he had lost her.
Then he would shut his eyes, as if in pain, and curse himself for not ridding of that closet yet.
This routine, this mental talking to himself, and the reminder of her presence, was something he dealt with every night.
…--…--…--…--…--…--…
“What’s your favorite number, Ichigo?”
He had to put his Naruto manga down. Again. “Favorite number?”
“Orihime said hers was 1.” She looked lost in thought for a moment. “Why do humans deal with such trivial things?” She looked up at him again. “Then she told me that 13 was some sort of bad luck number, associated with superstition, death, and blackness.”
Ichigo listened as her voice readily saddened.
“I hate anything that has to deal with blackness and death.”
Quickly, he answered to lighten her mood. “It’s only a stupid superstition.” He picked up his manga and rolled his eyes, snorting. “Don’t listen to what Orihime says and take it to heart, Rukia.”
Rukia was quiet for a moment, staring into the cover of the Naruto manga.
“Well, whether it’s true or not…I guess all the numbers besides 13 are my favorite.”
Ichigo snorted again, mocking her childish thinking. “That’s why I don’t care much for favorite numbers.”
…--…--…--…--…--…--…
“So I guess I can drop by Rukia’s place to see how she’s doing, huh?” Ichigo grinned. “She came back to the Soul Society about a week ago for some Hollow mission; I wanted to come visit to see her.”
Renji stared at the orange-headed teen with a hard, disheartened look. “So you haven’t heard, Ichigo.”
Ichigo drew seriousness on his face. His frown deepened. “Heard what?”
“Rukia…she…” the lieutenant looked away into the sky, placing a hand on the hilt of his zanpaktou. He watched the clouds roll by in their own tranquility. “She had a mission. The Hollow, as you mentioned. And it…killed her.”
Ichigo was sure he felt his heart stop. He almost forgot how to breathe. With a tiny gasp of air, he whispered: “What?”
Another wisp of cloud rolled by.
The lieutenant closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Ichigo searched for an excuse. He watched as Renji himself began to tremble, then felt his own knees quivering.
“You’re lying,” was the only excuse Ichigo could find.
“Why would I lie about this, carrot-top?” Renji whispered angrily, not looking into Ichio’s face.
Ichigo let the words sink in. Only for a second. With a jolt, he grabbed the red-head’s shihaksho.
“You’re lying, Renji!” He demanded.
“I’m not--!”
“Take that back! Tell me you’re lying!” His trembling fists tightened on Renji’s black material. “Say it!”
Renji watched his friend with sad eyes. Watched as Ichigo shook uncontrollably, his teeth gritting, the liquid rising in his eyes. Watched as he closed his eyes, trying to blink his tears away, to surpress his weakness.
“I’m sorry,” was all Renji could muster.
“No!” Ichigo shouted back, using the strength of his voice to try to cover up for his hurt.
Renji did the only thing he could think of. He stuffed his fist into Ichigo’s cheek, sending him sprawling across the grass.
“Don’t lie to yourself,” Renji whispered, and his small voice seemed so much more powerful than anything Ichigo had yelled out.
Ichigo stayed on the grass, facing the blue sky of the Soul Society. He ignored the pain Renji had just sent him, because in a way, it was something that his egotistical pride needed. Needed something to help him break down everything he was feeling. And pain, to Ichigo, was something he could take. Pain, not pity.
Clouds rolled by. Panting, Ichigo began to count.
1…
2…
3…
Rukia can’t possibly be dead.
4…
5…
She can’t leave me…like this.
6…
7…
After all that we’ve been through…
8…
9…
Why wasn’t I there to protect her?
10…
11…
Why didn’t…I…sense anything?
12…
What am I…..
Ichigo knew that it was only coincidence that his mind went blank at that moment, forgetting the next number.
.
.
.
.
.
…--…--…--…--…--…--…
End of 1