the persistence of memory: chapter two [fic] (ichigo/orihime, renji/rukia)
the persistence of memory.
bleach || ichigo/orihime, renji/rukia, ensemble cast || 2610 words || pg-13
they ascend that hill and find urahara kisuke. his back is turned to them but the sorrow in his voice is clear, ‘i’m so sorry. he’s gone.’ seventeen months pass and a mysterious shinigami from division zero descends onto karakura town with one sole purpose: to kill his father who betrayed their king. au post-deicide arc. written for the flol fanwork challenge 2011.
previous chapter ➙ the persistence of denial.
i've dreamed of you so much that you're losing your reality.
is it already too late for me to embrace your living, breathing body
and to kiss that mouth, the birthplace of that voice which is so dear to me?
the persistence of dreams.
“Hey, Ichigo. I heard…” Hikifune settled herself next to her protégé but leant back almost immediately, “ugh, you’re all sweaty!”
“Oi, I’ve been training all morning!” He spared her a withering glare. “Like every other morning, I might add. I’d have thought you’d be used to me being all sweaty by now, especially since you used to actually train me all the time.”
“Yeah, well, no woman wants to be near a guy who’s as sweaty as you are right now.”
“What, a woman like you? Sorry, I don’t like old women.”
She whacked him playfully on the arm. “Hey, I’m trying to give you advice, you little ingrate, not hit on you. You should remember this for when you get a girlfriend.”
Ichigo scoffed. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen anytime soon.”
“Maybe if you didn’t train so hard, you’d be able to, y’know, socialise more.” Ichigo flinched as she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“Can I say ‘yuck’?”
“Not without sounding a little gay. Unless socialising with a guy is the way you swing.” Hikifune laughed heartily when Ichigo cringed again. “Relax, that’s not why I came to see you today. I heard you had a special meeting this morning.”
“And by ‘this morning’, do you mean ‘last night’? Because it was damn dark when the General started waving his sword around in my room.”
She raised her eyebrow at his unintentional double entendre. “‘Waving his sword around’? Are you being literal or figurative?”
“Literal! Don’t be gross!”
She held up her hands defensively but she couldn’t hide her amusement at his discomfort. “Just checking! Anyway, I heard you had a special meeting with a special someone last night.”
Ichigo puffed up his chest pompously. “Yeah, well, I’m a special guy.”
“About a mission only you can carry out, huh? You are a special guy indeed, Ichigo, and none too modest about it, too.” She examined him for a moment before asking him carefully, “Are you really ready for this, Ichigo?”
He rolled his eyes, “Of course I am.”
“I mean, we’re talking about-”
“I know what we’re talking about,” he interrupted curtly. “Of course I’m ready. I’ve been waiting for this mission for years, there’s no way in hell I’m going risk the King giving it to someone who’s just going to screw it up.”
“Well, good, I’m glad to hear that. You’ve worked really hard, Ichigo, I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Hikifune-san.” He gave her a tight smile before frowning ever so slightly.
“Something on your mind, Ichigo?”
“It’s just…” he broke eye contact with her to stare at a nearby tree, “lately, I’ve been having these… dreams.”
To his complete and utter surprise, she whooped excitedly. “My boy is finally all grown up! You sly dog, you!”
“… What the hell are you on about?”
“Your dreams! They’re about a girl, yes? A girl you like? Remember, don’t get too sweaty, she won’t like it! Oho! Unless you’re getting sweaty while you’re socialising, I don’t think she’d mind then.” She dissolved into a fit of laughter at Ichigo’s horrified expression, his face a deep crimson.
“You… it’s not like that!” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, this dream, I have it every night. And it’s always the same dream, exactly the same. And if it was a stupid normal type of recurring dream, it wouldn’t bother me, but-”
“I’m sorry, but what constitutes a ‘normal’ type of recurring dream?”
“You know, the ones that don’t make sense but you know they’re not supposed to make any sense. Feeling like you’re falling, your teeth falling out, stuff like that. But this dream… I feel like it means something and I just… can’t fucking figure out what.”
He lapsed into a thoughtful silence, wondering what else he should tell her to make her understand how frustrated he was feeling about this. It had only been during the last few months or so that his dreams had been bothering him. His dreams used to make so much sense: battles, training, his father, his mother, his friends. But these people, with their muffled voices and silhouetted forms, did not seem familiar to him. They were not fellow members of the Guard, nor childhood friends, at least not ones that he could remember. And yet… there was something familiar about them. Achingly familiar.
They were dreams that he was beginning to resign himself to having. Every night, without fail, the voices would speak to him, their words would echo through his mind and something in him, perhaps it was his heart, would throb, almost painfully upon waking. He could never remember the words or the indistinct faces when he woke, only the emotions they evoked. Except…
‘And for those five lifetimes… I’d fall in love with the same person. Thank you, Kurosaki-kun. Goodbye.’
Her voice sounded more indistinct than the others, like a dream from a dream, but somehow hers was the only one he could recall with close to perfect clarity. And, whoever this girl was, she knew his name, and she… she had been in love with him.
Did I love you, too? Why are you saying goodbye? Did you leave me? Or was I the one who left?
“Ichigo?”
He stirred himself out of his reverie. “You know what? I’m sorry, forget I said anything.”
“What happens? In the dream, I mean.”
“You were right, you know.” At the expression her face, he added, “About the girl. There’s a girl in my dream.”
“And you… you like her?”
He didn’t answer immediately, pausing a moment to think, even though he knew there was really nothing to think about. “I… I don’t know, I mean, I don’t even know her but… I feel like I might? Maybe I’ve met her before but I just… I feel like she’s somebody I would remember if I knew her. This sounds absolutely crazy when I say it aloud. In my head, I don’t feel so insane.” He shook his head dejectedly. “There’s other people, too, and they’re all talking to me but I can’t remember what they say once I wake up.”
Hikifune remained silent.
“I sound completely bonkers, right?” he asked after minutes passed without a response from her.
“Of course not. I just wish I had an explanation for you, Ichigo.” She put a comforting hand on his knee and squeezed gently before letting go almost immediately when a shadow fell over them. “General Tabata, sir.”
“Captain Hikifune.” He gave her a curt nod before turning his attention to Ichigo, “Kurosaki, you’re needed over at Training Arena Three,” eliciting a groan from Ichigo.
“Ugh, okay.” Hikifune nudged him painfully in the ribs and he quickly coughed out, “I mean, yes, sir!”
“If I may have a word with you, General Tabata.” Hikifune interjected quickly, casting a furtive look in Ichigo’s direction as he beat the dust off his hakama. Tabata narrowed his eyes suspiciously in response.
“Very well, Captain Hikifune. Off you go, Kurosaki. Train hard, don’t forget you’ve got that big mission coming up.”
“Yes, sir.” He gave Tabata a casual salute and tossed Hikifune a hasty wave before taking off. Tabata waited until he was out of sight before turning his attention to the seated Captain.
“What seems to be the problem, Hikifune? I believe you’ve heard about Kurosaki’s mission, is this regarding that? Do you believe him incapable of shouldering such a large responsibility?”
“Not at all,” she said firmly, “Ichigo is one of the best shinigami I’ve ever had the honour to train, and I know that the King has intended to give Ichigo this mission from the very first time he heard his name. It’s just…” she trailed off and the General sighed impatiently.
“Just what, Hikifune?”
“I think that the memory manipulation has weakened.” This revelation sent Tabata reeling back.
“And what gives you this idea?”
“He just told me about a recurring dream, a dream where his friends are speaking to him. If the manipulation had been successful-”
“-then that wouldn’t happen,” Tabata concluded, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
“Should we-”
“-tell the King?” he finished her sentence before softly adding, “Yes, I think we should.”
Even after more than one hundred years, stepping past the ornate, golden gate and onto the palace grounds made Hikifune feel uneasy. There was something about the stagnant atmosphere, something about the reverent silence that was almost oppressive. The grounds, the palace, the people here, all steeped in so much tradition, always made her feel unsure of her footing, scared of speaking too loudly or out of turn.
“Are your palms sweaty again, Hikifune?” Tabata interrupted her thoughts.
“W-What? How-?”
He gave her a wry smile. “Every time you come here, you wipe your hands on your hakama. A lot.”
“That’s very perceptive of you, General Tabata.”
“I didn’t become General through sheer luck. Noticing the little things is crucial, especially in battle; sometimes it’s the difference between living and dying. Perhaps it is something you should try sometime, Hikifune, I think you have been away from battle for far too long.”
She did not respond. Even though his tone was conversational, there was definitely a trace of a threat that Hikifune did not miss.
Each passing minute walking through the palace grounds frayed Hikifune’s nerves a little more until, after nearly half an hour, they finally reached the gate of the main estate. Ten masked men guarded the entrance but, upon seeing the General’s form, they quickly stood aside before bowing low to the ground.
“This is General Tabata Ryuuji with Captain Hikifune Kirio, requesting an immediate audience with the Spirit King.”
There was a long pause that felt like an eternity to her before the gate slowly creaked open, revealing the beautiful façade of the Royal Palace in the distance. Her jaw hung open at the sight, the palace always seeming to be more beautiful and resplendent than she remembered. After a moment in a daze, she noticed Tabata was already far ahead of her, her short legs moving quickly in order to catch up to him, loping ahead of her in long, easy strides. Two guards at the foot of the stairs bowed to them both before escorting them up the steps towards the palace. The men then hurried ahead to slide open the doors, admitting them entrance to the throne room. Tabata gave them a short nod before marching confidently into the room, Hikifune bustling in after him. The doors slid shut behind them.
The silence was unnerving.
The King was alone in the room, seated in his throne, ornately decorated and set upon a dais at the far end of the room. Even from this distance, she could feel the pressure of his studious gaze upon them, making it difficult for her to breathe.
“Your Majesty.” Tabata bowed low, reminding Hikifune that she should also show due deference to their monarch.
“General Tabata,” the King replied, his deep voice oddly soothing, “I just saw you this morning. To what do I owe the pleasure of another visit so soon?”
“A problem.”
The King’s eyes flicked towards Hikifune momentarily, sending a shudder down her spine, before resettling on Tabata. “A problem?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. It appears that the memory manipulation on Kurosaki is failing.”
“What?” The King stood up sharply, his shock and anger apparent in his deep voice as it resonated around the large room. He stepped down quickly from his throne towards them, his regal robes trailing along the floor. “We wiped his mind completely clean when he arrived, did we not? How is this possible? How do you know this?”
“Hikifune, tell him what you told me,” Tabata prompted, nudging her towards the King.
“Captain Hikifune? Speak.”
“Ichigo told me about some dreams he’s been having of late, Your Majesty, and they seem to me to be about his friends from the living world.”
“And he knows this? He knows who they are?”
“No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t actually recall much of the dream itself it seems, at least not in any great detail. It’s more that he remembers having the dream.”
“Is that so?” the King murmured thoughtfully. “If that is the case, perhaps we will simply need to put our plan into motion a little sooner than we had expected.”
“Isn’t that a little risky, Your Majesty? What if he recalls his past life while on the mission? I mean, especially given the nature of his mission, it could put the whole plan in jeopardy.”
“That may be so, Hikifune,” Tabata mused, “but erasing his memories at this point is also a risky endeavour, it may affect his memories of his time here, pushing the mission back even further. Worse than that, we may have to get someone aside from Kurosaki to carry it out which would really put the success of the mission in peril.”
“That’s true, General Tabata,” the King stepped back up onto the dais and resettled himself in his throne, “I don’t want any more delays in this mission, and I definitely want Kurosaki Ichigo to be the man to complete it. General, I want you to speed up Kurosaki’s departure as much as you can. The longer we wait, the more likely he is to remember everything.”
“And what if the situation Captain Hikifune spoke of arises, Your Majesty?”
“If he remembers, the mission must be aborted.” The King propped his chin upon his threaded fingers. “If he remembers, you know what to do, General.”
Hikifune’s eyes opened wide in shock as the King imitated slicing his throat.
“Your Majesty, you can’t possibly mean-”
“Protocol Zero. Off with his head.”
Today had been utterly exhausting, even for someone with his stamina. Ichigo collapsed into his bed, thankful for the soft pillow and blankets, their comfort a definite source of relief for his tired, aching muscles. He released a sigh, his eyelids already heavy and drooping with fatigue.
He fell asleep almost instantly.
It was the same dream again. In his sleep, he knew how it went, he had long memorised their lines and their cues, even though he couldn’t recall them upon waking, save for the girl. It was strange, despite how frustrating the dreams were for him it was almost… nice to think that a girl could fall in love with someone like him. A brash teenager whose only talent seemed to involve beating people up and slicing them with swords; somehow a girl could fall in love with someone like that.
‘Not just any girl,’ he thought to himself, ‘she’s beautiful, I know she is.’
Every time he fell asleep, he already knew how he would wake: her final farewell the only memory he has of the dream that plagued him; a final farewell that, oddly enough, gives him a little comfort.
Except tonight the dream was slightly different.
The beginning was the same as ever, voices and indistinct faces. Then… her voice, her admission of love, her goodbye.
‘Wake up,’ he told himself.
But the dream was not over.
There was another voice, loud and clear, and when he later awoke in a cold sweat, he could remember the tone and the pitch with startling precision. And there was something about the words that made his body shudder to its core.
Yo, partner. Did you miss me?
next chapter ➙ the persistence of disappointment.
bleach || ichigo/orihime, renji/rukia, ensemble cast || 2610 words || pg-13
they ascend that hill and find urahara kisuke. his back is turned to them but the sorrow in his voice is clear, ‘i’m so sorry. he’s gone.’ seventeen months pass and a mysterious shinigami from division zero descends onto karakura town with one sole purpose: to kill his father who betrayed their king. au post-deicide arc. written for the flol fanwork challenge 2011.
previous chapter ➙ the persistence of denial.
i've dreamed of you so much that you're losing your reality.
is it already too late for me to embrace your living, breathing body
and to kiss that mouth, the birthplace of that voice which is so dear to me?
the persistence of dreams.
“Hey, Ichigo. I heard…” Hikifune settled herself next to her protégé but leant back almost immediately, “ugh, you’re all sweaty!”
“Oi, I’ve been training all morning!” He spared her a withering glare. “Like every other morning, I might add. I’d have thought you’d be used to me being all sweaty by now, especially since you used to actually train me all the time.”
“Yeah, well, no woman wants to be near a guy who’s as sweaty as you are right now.”
“What, a woman like you? Sorry, I don’t like old women.”
She whacked him playfully on the arm. “Hey, I’m trying to give you advice, you little ingrate, not hit on you. You should remember this for when you get a girlfriend.”
Ichigo scoffed. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen anytime soon.”
“Maybe if you didn’t train so hard, you’d be able to, y’know, socialise more.” Ichigo flinched as she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“Can I say ‘yuck’?”
“Not without sounding a little gay. Unless socialising with a guy is the way you swing.” Hikifune laughed heartily when Ichigo cringed again. “Relax, that’s not why I came to see you today. I heard you had a special meeting this morning.”
“And by ‘this morning’, do you mean ‘last night’? Because it was damn dark when the General started waving his sword around in my room.”
She raised her eyebrow at his unintentional double entendre. “‘Waving his sword around’? Are you being literal or figurative?”
“Literal! Don’t be gross!”
She held up her hands defensively but she couldn’t hide her amusement at his discomfort. “Just checking! Anyway, I heard you had a special meeting with a special someone last night.”
Ichigo puffed up his chest pompously. “Yeah, well, I’m a special guy.”
“About a mission only you can carry out, huh? You are a special guy indeed, Ichigo, and none too modest about it, too.” She examined him for a moment before asking him carefully, “Are you really ready for this, Ichigo?”
He rolled his eyes, “Of course I am.”
“I mean, we’re talking about-”
“I know what we’re talking about,” he interrupted curtly. “Of course I’m ready. I’ve been waiting for this mission for years, there’s no way in hell I’m going risk the King giving it to someone who’s just going to screw it up.”
“Well, good, I’m glad to hear that. You’ve worked really hard, Ichigo, I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Hikifune-san.” He gave her a tight smile before frowning ever so slightly.
“Something on your mind, Ichigo?”
“It’s just…” he broke eye contact with her to stare at a nearby tree, “lately, I’ve been having these… dreams.”
To his complete and utter surprise, she whooped excitedly. “My boy is finally all grown up! You sly dog, you!”
“… What the hell are you on about?”
“Your dreams! They’re about a girl, yes? A girl you like? Remember, don’t get too sweaty, she won’t like it! Oho! Unless you’re getting sweaty while you’re socialising, I don’t think she’d mind then.” She dissolved into a fit of laughter at Ichigo’s horrified expression, his face a deep crimson.
“You… it’s not like that!” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, this dream, I have it every night. And it’s always the same dream, exactly the same. And if it was a stupid normal type of recurring dream, it wouldn’t bother me, but-”
“I’m sorry, but what constitutes a ‘normal’ type of recurring dream?”
“You know, the ones that don’t make sense but you know they’re not supposed to make any sense. Feeling like you’re falling, your teeth falling out, stuff like that. But this dream… I feel like it means something and I just… can’t fucking figure out what.”
He lapsed into a thoughtful silence, wondering what else he should tell her to make her understand how frustrated he was feeling about this. It had only been during the last few months or so that his dreams had been bothering him. His dreams used to make so much sense: battles, training, his father, his mother, his friends. But these people, with their muffled voices and silhouetted forms, did not seem familiar to him. They were not fellow members of the Guard, nor childhood friends, at least not ones that he could remember. And yet… there was something familiar about them. Achingly familiar.
They were dreams that he was beginning to resign himself to having. Every night, without fail, the voices would speak to him, their words would echo through his mind and something in him, perhaps it was his heart, would throb, almost painfully upon waking. He could never remember the words or the indistinct faces when he woke, only the emotions they evoked. Except…
‘And for those five lifetimes… I’d fall in love with the same person. Thank you, Kurosaki-kun. Goodbye.’
Her voice sounded more indistinct than the others, like a dream from a dream, but somehow hers was the only one he could recall with close to perfect clarity. And, whoever this girl was, she knew his name, and she… she had been in love with him.
Did I love you, too? Why are you saying goodbye? Did you leave me? Or was I the one who left?
“Ichigo?”
He stirred himself out of his reverie. “You know what? I’m sorry, forget I said anything.”
“What happens? In the dream, I mean.”
“You were right, you know.” At the expression her face, he added, “About the girl. There’s a girl in my dream.”
“And you… you like her?”
He didn’t answer immediately, pausing a moment to think, even though he knew there was really nothing to think about. “I… I don’t know, I mean, I don’t even know her but… I feel like I might? Maybe I’ve met her before but I just… I feel like she’s somebody I would remember if I knew her. This sounds absolutely crazy when I say it aloud. In my head, I don’t feel so insane.” He shook his head dejectedly. “There’s other people, too, and they’re all talking to me but I can’t remember what they say once I wake up.”
Hikifune remained silent.
“I sound completely bonkers, right?” he asked after minutes passed without a response from her.
“Of course not. I just wish I had an explanation for you, Ichigo.” She put a comforting hand on his knee and squeezed gently before letting go almost immediately when a shadow fell over them. “General Tabata, sir.”
“Captain Hikifune.” He gave her a curt nod before turning his attention to Ichigo, “Kurosaki, you’re needed over at Training Arena Three,” eliciting a groan from Ichigo.
“Ugh, okay.” Hikifune nudged him painfully in the ribs and he quickly coughed out, “I mean, yes, sir!”
“If I may have a word with you, General Tabata.” Hikifune interjected quickly, casting a furtive look in Ichigo’s direction as he beat the dust off his hakama. Tabata narrowed his eyes suspiciously in response.
“Very well, Captain Hikifune. Off you go, Kurosaki. Train hard, don’t forget you’ve got that big mission coming up.”
“Yes, sir.” He gave Tabata a casual salute and tossed Hikifune a hasty wave before taking off. Tabata waited until he was out of sight before turning his attention to the seated Captain.
“What seems to be the problem, Hikifune? I believe you’ve heard about Kurosaki’s mission, is this regarding that? Do you believe him incapable of shouldering such a large responsibility?”
“Not at all,” she said firmly, “Ichigo is one of the best shinigami I’ve ever had the honour to train, and I know that the King has intended to give Ichigo this mission from the very first time he heard his name. It’s just…” she trailed off and the General sighed impatiently.
“Just what, Hikifune?”
“I think that the memory manipulation has weakened.” This revelation sent Tabata reeling back.
“And what gives you this idea?”
“He just told me about a recurring dream, a dream where his friends are speaking to him. If the manipulation had been successful-”
“-then that wouldn’t happen,” Tabata concluded, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
“Should we-”
“-tell the King?” he finished her sentence before softly adding, “Yes, I think we should.”
Even after more than one hundred years, stepping past the ornate, golden gate and onto the palace grounds made Hikifune feel uneasy. There was something about the stagnant atmosphere, something about the reverent silence that was almost oppressive. The grounds, the palace, the people here, all steeped in so much tradition, always made her feel unsure of her footing, scared of speaking too loudly or out of turn.
“Are your palms sweaty again, Hikifune?” Tabata interrupted her thoughts.
“W-What? How-?”
He gave her a wry smile. “Every time you come here, you wipe your hands on your hakama. A lot.”
“That’s very perceptive of you, General Tabata.”
“I didn’t become General through sheer luck. Noticing the little things is crucial, especially in battle; sometimes it’s the difference between living and dying. Perhaps it is something you should try sometime, Hikifune, I think you have been away from battle for far too long.”
She did not respond. Even though his tone was conversational, there was definitely a trace of a threat that Hikifune did not miss.
Each passing minute walking through the palace grounds frayed Hikifune’s nerves a little more until, after nearly half an hour, they finally reached the gate of the main estate. Ten masked men guarded the entrance but, upon seeing the General’s form, they quickly stood aside before bowing low to the ground.
“This is General Tabata Ryuuji with Captain Hikifune Kirio, requesting an immediate audience with the Spirit King.”
There was a long pause that felt like an eternity to her before the gate slowly creaked open, revealing the beautiful façade of the Royal Palace in the distance. Her jaw hung open at the sight, the palace always seeming to be more beautiful and resplendent than she remembered. After a moment in a daze, she noticed Tabata was already far ahead of her, her short legs moving quickly in order to catch up to him, loping ahead of her in long, easy strides. Two guards at the foot of the stairs bowed to them both before escorting them up the steps towards the palace. The men then hurried ahead to slide open the doors, admitting them entrance to the throne room. Tabata gave them a short nod before marching confidently into the room, Hikifune bustling in after him. The doors slid shut behind them.
The silence was unnerving.
The King was alone in the room, seated in his throne, ornately decorated and set upon a dais at the far end of the room. Even from this distance, she could feel the pressure of his studious gaze upon them, making it difficult for her to breathe.
“Your Majesty.” Tabata bowed low, reminding Hikifune that she should also show due deference to their monarch.
“General Tabata,” the King replied, his deep voice oddly soothing, “I just saw you this morning. To what do I owe the pleasure of another visit so soon?”
“A problem.”
The King’s eyes flicked towards Hikifune momentarily, sending a shudder down her spine, before resettling on Tabata. “A problem?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. It appears that the memory manipulation on Kurosaki is failing.”
“What?” The King stood up sharply, his shock and anger apparent in his deep voice as it resonated around the large room. He stepped down quickly from his throne towards them, his regal robes trailing along the floor. “We wiped his mind completely clean when he arrived, did we not? How is this possible? How do you know this?”
“Hikifune, tell him what you told me,” Tabata prompted, nudging her towards the King.
“Captain Hikifune? Speak.”
“Ichigo told me about some dreams he’s been having of late, Your Majesty, and they seem to me to be about his friends from the living world.”
“And he knows this? He knows who they are?”
“No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t actually recall much of the dream itself it seems, at least not in any great detail. It’s more that he remembers having the dream.”
“Is that so?” the King murmured thoughtfully. “If that is the case, perhaps we will simply need to put our plan into motion a little sooner than we had expected.”
“Isn’t that a little risky, Your Majesty? What if he recalls his past life while on the mission? I mean, especially given the nature of his mission, it could put the whole plan in jeopardy.”
“That may be so, Hikifune,” Tabata mused, “but erasing his memories at this point is also a risky endeavour, it may affect his memories of his time here, pushing the mission back even further. Worse than that, we may have to get someone aside from Kurosaki to carry it out which would really put the success of the mission in peril.”
“That’s true, General Tabata,” the King stepped back up onto the dais and resettled himself in his throne, “I don’t want any more delays in this mission, and I definitely want Kurosaki Ichigo to be the man to complete it. General, I want you to speed up Kurosaki’s departure as much as you can. The longer we wait, the more likely he is to remember everything.”
“And what if the situation Captain Hikifune spoke of arises, Your Majesty?”
“If he remembers, the mission must be aborted.” The King propped his chin upon his threaded fingers. “If he remembers, you know what to do, General.”
Hikifune’s eyes opened wide in shock as the King imitated slicing his throat.
“Your Majesty, you can’t possibly mean-”
“Protocol Zero. Off with his head.”
Today had been utterly exhausting, even for someone with his stamina. Ichigo collapsed into his bed, thankful for the soft pillow and blankets, their comfort a definite source of relief for his tired, aching muscles. He released a sigh, his eyelids already heavy and drooping with fatigue.
He fell asleep almost instantly.
It was the same dream again. In his sleep, he knew how it went, he had long memorised their lines and their cues, even though he couldn’t recall them upon waking, save for the girl. It was strange, despite how frustrating the dreams were for him it was almost… nice to think that a girl could fall in love with someone like him. A brash teenager whose only talent seemed to involve beating people up and slicing them with swords; somehow a girl could fall in love with someone like that.
‘Not just any girl,’ he thought to himself, ‘she’s beautiful, I know she is.’
Every time he fell asleep, he already knew how he would wake: her final farewell the only memory he has of the dream that plagued him; a final farewell that, oddly enough, gives him a little comfort.
Except tonight the dream was slightly different.
The beginning was the same as ever, voices and indistinct faces. Then… her voice, her admission of love, her goodbye.
‘Wake up,’ he told himself.
But the dream was not over.
There was another voice, loud and clear, and when he later awoke in a cold sweat, he could remember the tone and the pitch with startling precision. And there was something about the words that made his body shudder to its core.
Yo, partner. Did you miss me?
next chapter ➙ the persistence of disappointment.