Almost In Love v. scribbld - Unnamed
February 12th, 2008
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Unnamed
Title: Unnamed
Author: Eumenides ([info]flowerofsin)
Fandom: Bleach
Characters: Kenpachi
Prompt: 034 (encounter)
Word Count: 830
Rating: PG
Summary: Set after the end of Kenpachi & Ichigo’s fight during the Soul Society arc. Kenpachi get a glimpse of someone he has until recently ignored.
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns everything, I own nothing but my imagination.



“I know it’s a little late for this, but could you tell me your name?”

Kenpachi pressed the hilt of the broken blade to his forehead, a grimace on his face. He did want to become stronger, but wasn’t all that kind of talk just nonsense? He wasn’t sure he believed in it, but hadn’t he seen the results with his own eyes? How that kid was able to fight him to a standstill. But if a blade was really more than a tool, why had he never heard it after countless years of fighting?

Kenpachi could hear Yachiru speaking to him, but the sound seemed muffled. His eyes grew heavy and closed as his injuries caught up with him. Distantly came the metallic clang of his sword striking the ground as he slipped into the darkness.

Suddenly, his eyes opened, and he gazed up into a sky full of angry dark clouds that streaked across it. Sitting up, Kenpachi gazed around at barren earth, dust swirling on the blowing winds that surrounded him. Kenpachi wiped at his eyes, his vision blurring for the moment.

Before he was able to question where he was aloud, on the rocky crag before him a dark figure began to appear in the previously empty air. As Kenpachi moved into a ready position, unsure if this was a friend or a foe, he was taken aback at the blurred figure resolving into a female form. She wore a tattered kimono, the fabric of which was tossed about in the wind. It seemed to once have been white but had become discolored, now varied shades of off white and grey. What Kenpachi first mistook as a red pattern the shape of which seemed odd to him for a kimono, he soon realized were blood stains. On a closer look, the woman’s right hand was covered in the red substance. It dripped down her fingers and long sharp nails. Whose blood it was, he couldn’t be certain. The woman’s head was slightly bowed, obscured by long locks of untamed hair that rustled about her face due to the high winds.

“Hey, woman,” Zaraki called to her, “Who are you? What is this place?”

The woman’s mouth seemed to be moving, but there was no sound that Kenpachi could hear. For some reason, he didn’t get the sense that she was an enemy despite her appearance. He moved into a more relaxed stance before moving to approach her. Oddly enough, though he continued to step forward, he got no closer to her.

“Hey, what’s going on? Who are you?” he demanded.

The tattered looking woman raised her head, some of her long locks sweeping under her chin. She had a scar that ran from her ear down her right cheek, and piercing eyes that seemed to glow faintly. She spoke again, yet there was no sound, even though it seemed to Kenpachi as though she was calling out loudly to him.

Kenpachi stopped walking, balling his hands into fists and bowing his head. Was this just some sort of dream? A silly, useless-

“All this time I’ve been shouting, and you still can’t hear me,” a deep female voice said. Kenpachi’s head snapped up in the direction of the rocky structure, but the woman was no longer on it. He took a step backward as the woman suddenly appeared before him. In her bloodied hand, she held his zanpakutou. The blood on her hand stained the hilt and dripped down the ragged blade.

She flipped it in her grasp so that the blade pointed toward the barren earth. She held it up, offering it to him. “You can only hear if you believe in me. Do you?”

Kenpachi closed his larger hand over hers on the hilt of his zanpakutou. “I-yeah. Yeah, I do.” His gaze shifted to the blade, then back to the woman. “Now, will you tell me your name?” Kenpachi asked as he looked down into her eyes.

“I’m not sure,” she answered. “I haven’t decided if you deserve to know yet.” Her lips pulled into a lopsided grin, partly exposing sharpened teeth as the wind whipped loudly around them.

Sitting up abruptly in bed, Kenpachi gripped his aching side as he stifled a groan. He looked around to see his quarters, Yachiru bouncing excitedly by his side.

“Ken-chan is awake!” Yachiru exclaimed happily.

“Yeah,” Zaraki remarked. Yachiru gave him a questioning look when she noticed his downcast expression. Glancing toward his side, he saw his now intact zanpakutou leaning against the wall. Against Yachiru’s protests, he rose from the bed to retrieve the sword, sitting down heavily on the bed again. Despite his aches, he unsheathed it, the ragged blade glinting in the light as he held it up. The sword felt familiar in his hand, yet somehow different.

“I’ll get you to tell me your name,” Kenpachi said with certainty. In that odd world within, a feral grin split her face.

End

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