Drabble // Bleach // Nemu
Title :: Fall in the Light
Setting :: Bleach
Character :: Kurotshuchi Nemu (...I can write about other characters, really.)
Words :: 549
Timing :: During the Soul Society Arc
The strongest sound she can hear is the blood rushing through her ears mingled to that of her heartbeat, an improbable score composed by a madman and brought to life through his insanity. She can't move, though she can hear the Quincy's words, can feel his repulsion at how her father treats her, how her father speaks to her, a series of emotions underscored by her own father's thoughts and emotions, all of them sharp jagged edges that wound without concern.
But when she pays attention to the Quincy... there is no repulsion directed towards her. No disgust, no horror, no disdain. Not even once throughout the course of the entire fight, does he feel anything towards her but...
...the need to protect.
Light shimmers in the passageway, a bright and intense coruscating energy which warms her skin and scours everything nearby, motes of illuminations dancing lazily past her in the aftermath of a particularly devastating attack. They are so odd these humans, she thinks, slowly, time standing still around her. So very strange. Without even knowing their cause, they find it in ways truer than any she's ever seen. Without even understanding why, they protect and shield.
Just because... they can?
Nemu breathes in and out, the sound shivering through her lips, her lungs, another song that accompanies the chorus of her wounded body. Hesitant footsteps resonate nearby and she realizes that all the howling and screaming of men and weapons is done with, has been done with for several precious seconds now.
The sound of another heartbeat echoes nearby now, a beat underscoring everything else she hears, unsteady and rapid - far too rapid, not unlike her own at the moment, though she knows that will settle soon enough. She is of no import, she tells herself out of long habit. She turns her head slightly and smiles at the Quincy as he approaches her, hesitancy mingling with concern, and in that moment he proves her a liar.
So very frail, those humans are.
And yet, for a moment, her father was frailer still. Without real purpose, without real intent.
Without... heart. A hollow shell, driven by nothing more than the very basest of instincts.
Nemu offers the human boy the antidote she made with gratitude, not a single afterthought following her impulsive gesture. She thanks him for sparing her father, the strange sudden serenity she feels something she's doesn't even know how to name or explain.
She's never felt that way before.
When all is said and done... her father is imperfect.
Kurotshuchi Nemu leans on the wall, staring at the bottle left nearby once the boy has gone, listening to the echoing sound of fading footsteps, of a strengthening heartbeat straining now towards another purpose. Someone else to protect. A cause to defend. A great nameless nothing she's never even dreamt of, until now.
Is this what Shinigami should truly be?
Her father is imperfect.
She smiles, her breathing steadying out, her limbs still numb and unmoving.
Her heart beats regularly and Nemu thinks maybe, just maybe, she isn't so worthless after all. If she strives and strains and finds her own purpose, maybe she can finally find out who she is.
Maybe she can start to comprehend, one day, what her own measure truly might be.
Setting :: Bleach
Character :: Kurotshuchi Nemu (...I can write about other characters, really.)
Words :: 549
Timing :: During the Soul Society Arc
The strongest sound she can hear is the blood rushing through her ears mingled to that of her heartbeat, an improbable score composed by a madman and brought to life through his insanity. She can't move, though she can hear the Quincy's words, can feel his repulsion at how her father treats her, how her father speaks to her, a series of emotions underscored by her own father's thoughts and emotions, all of them sharp jagged edges that wound without concern.
But when she pays attention to the Quincy... there is no repulsion directed towards her. No disgust, no horror, no disdain. Not even once throughout the course of the entire fight, does he feel anything towards her but...
...the need to protect.
Light shimmers in the passageway, a bright and intense coruscating energy which warms her skin and scours everything nearby, motes of illuminations dancing lazily past her in the aftermath of a particularly devastating attack. They are so odd these humans, she thinks, slowly, time standing still around her. So very strange. Without even knowing their cause, they find it in ways truer than any she's ever seen. Without even understanding why, they protect and shield.
Just because... they can?
Nemu breathes in and out, the sound shivering through her lips, her lungs, another song that accompanies the chorus of her wounded body. Hesitant footsteps resonate nearby and she realizes that all the howling and screaming of men and weapons is done with, has been done with for several precious seconds now.
The sound of another heartbeat echoes nearby now, a beat underscoring everything else she hears, unsteady and rapid - far too rapid, not unlike her own at the moment, though she knows that will settle soon enough. She is of no import, she tells herself out of long habit. She turns her head slightly and smiles at the Quincy as he approaches her, hesitancy mingling with concern, and in that moment he proves her a liar.
So very frail, those humans are.
And yet, for a moment, her father was frailer still. Without real purpose, without real intent.
Without... heart. A hollow shell, driven by nothing more than the very basest of instincts.
Nemu offers the human boy the antidote she made with gratitude, not a single afterthought following her impulsive gesture. She thanks him for sparing her father, the strange sudden serenity she feels something she's doesn't even know how to name or explain.
She's never felt that way before.
When all is said and done... her father is imperfect.
Kurotshuchi Nemu leans on the wall, staring at the bottle left nearby once the boy has gone, listening to the echoing sound of fading footsteps, of a strengthening heartbeat straining now towards another purpose. Someone else to protect. A cause to defend. A great nameless nothing she's never even dreamt of, until now.
Is this what Shinigami should truly be?
Her father is imperfect.
She smiles, her breathing steadying out, her limbs still numb and unmoving.
Her heart beats regularly and Nemu thinks maybe, just maybe, she isn't so worthless after all. If she strives and strains and finds her own purpose, maybe she can finally find out who she is.
Maybe she can start to comprehend, one day, what her own measure truly might be.