Kaerale

Aizen holds Yoruichi-sama by the throat, the pale cloth sheathing his powerful frame billowing with the force of his power. A lazy smile curls his mouth. He seems to be cloaked in rippling, shifting white fire that streams into the voided sky, further burning into my brain his absolute, inevitable dominion. Why the fuck isn't he back in the fake Karakura Town? I scream silently in terror. Could it be an illusion? No way to know, dammit! My thoughts bubble like boiling water, and my head is filled with hot, red fog. What can I do against Aizen? I clamp my fear down fiercely, but his dark brown eyes narrow as they fix upon mine, a sea of kil

I put it out of my mind, and I and Yoruichi-sama fly on as if pursued by roaring lions through the passage to Hueco Mundo atop two sparkling bridges of reiatsu. The black dark streams past us, whispering, stars threaded in our wake. I mourn the loss of power, for I will have to make without shunko once we are there. The way to Seireitei was never this taxing. I've used every iota of reiatsu I can spare for a few feeble bursts of shunpo to make it through the gargantua, as we fall through the black velvet sky. Then we are racing over the crumbled remains of Las Noches that lies like heaps of shattered bone, towards the palace's heart to retrie

'Hachi, Hachi, HACHI!! Guess what?!' A small pixie of a girl burst into his dim study, capering round the room in joy and excitement, her tiny legs going a mile a minute. Short, ebony-black hair bouncing, she danced in a circle, nearly tripping over numerous stacks of precariously stacked files. Clean, vivid rays of light illuminated the minuscule room, beaming from the door. The outside light did not look quite right against the fizzling rainbow sparkles of kido springing rambunctiously from pipe to pipe on the table inside. The object of her attention smiled affectionately so that his tufty pink moustache turned up, slowly turning away fro

Drifting in and out of the waking and slumbering worlds, I am not ready to face reality. So, in my memory, when the new beginning is unwinding outside, I spin back time, and return to the end of it all. The wind blows cruelly upon the fate of the shinigami. It is almost as though the gods are angered by our choices. Time has ceased to mean anything countless heartbeats ago. Survival is the only thing that matters now. And, of course, the retrieval of the monkey wrench, which is at the pivot of Aizen's plot. The monkey wrench that's worth more than the universe and all of the worlds in it. Life. Death. Or limbo. Bloodstained airstre

Even in unconsciousness, I hear, record fluttering scraps of sound, and automatically file words away, my ears too well trained to wind down now. Murmurs rise up, floating, echoing faintly, and then retuning to me, like golden bubbles rising through warm water kissed by autumn. A sharp, feminine voice, smooth as dark honey, spikes with frantic worry. 'Come over here! Her spine is broken, almost every bone is snapped and her heart is failing rapidly. 10th level life support needed! Did you hear me, seventh seat Yamada?! NOW!' 'Oh god, speak to me, please, Shunsui, Oh, please, please. Don't leave, not now. . .' The words trail off into terrib

Falling Sky Chapter One-Aftermath I've survived for centuries, and stubbornly fought for my pride for even longer. Death is a strange thing to consider, but I of all people should not fear the prospect. I work with death. I am death, the assassin, the dark angel who delivers retribution from the shadows. I cannot die. Neither of us can. I've battled against hollows and criminals, striven for recognition, mercilessly beaten my fellow trainees and officers to rise up through the ranks. I've carried out countless deeds and missions of odd bravery, foolishness, constant duty, ruthlessness and hatred, but for almost all the stretched-out se

Music is like a cooling draught of water which frees my spirit from hatred, vanquishing pain It refreshes my heart and makes it new once again. Music spills waves and teardrops of resonating light, rippling into my tangled and clouded mind Cleansing, washing away snarls of troubled thought with beauty long ago left behind. Music gives me a gift worth far more than any treasure, a clear way of gazing at my life Raising my judgment above the clouds, to hone it as sharp as the shining blade of a knife. Music lifts me out of deepest misery, making me want to soar like a bird, Leap like a dolphin, and laugh like a child, with the harmony I