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A Shadow of What Was	By : katami Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 49594 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author�s Notes: I�d like to thank everyone who has shown an interest in this story, hope you enjoy this next offering. Once again, if you like the story please review and if yaoi squeaks you then leave now and save us both the headache.

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(Twenty Years Later)
He had always been odd. Seen things he shouldn�t have been able to and known things he couldn�t possibly have known. Ever since he was old enough to understand he had known he was different. Most days it didn�t even bother him. Who wanted to be normal anyway?

His parents had named him Hideaki and while the name fit he refused to answer to it, demanding instead to be called Kisuke. He didn�t know why, but he knew that was his name and he knew it was important that he remember it. It had taken only one week to make his parents understand that they could call him whatever they liked but he wouldn�t answer to anything but his name, his real name.

�You�re thinking again,� murmured Midori. �I keep telling you girls don�t like thinkers,� scolded the old woman. She was one of the things he shouldn�t have seen but he was fond of her anyway. Midori was a ghost. She had haunted his house for years but after learning that he could see and hear her, she had taken to following him around, proclaiming it to be more interesting than sitting around the house. He wasn�t sure how much of a compliment that was, but Midori was at least amusing.

Most times Kisuke didn�t mind her presence. She kept the other ghosts from pestering him, which they tended to do once they figured out that he could see them. He was less fond of the times Midori lectured him. People thought he was strange enough without the added weirdness of talking to himself. Especially talking to himself in class.

�I�m pondering; there�s a difference. And I told you to stop following me to school. Or at least stop talking to me in class,� he whispered, careful not to draw the attention of the teacher or the classmates around him still working on the test. He had been finished with the test for nearly ten minutes, the first one done, but didn�t want to advertise that fact when he would already be getting the highest grade. His classmates knew he was smart but Kisuke didn�t think they would appreciate knowing just how smart he really was. It was just one of the many things about himself that he had learned to hide; such as seeing ghosts.

The dreams were another thing he had learned to hide. While he sometimes spoke of the ghosts, mostly to Midori or to others in the abstract, he never talked about the dreams. He wasn�t sure why but the dreams were private. They were dreams of a time before, a time when he hadn�t been a sixteen year old high school student but something else. He had never quite figured out what because the dreams never made enough sense. They were filled with strange places and strange people. Many times there were black robed figures called Shinigami in them. Sometimes he was one of these Shinigami and other times he wasn�t.

He knew the dreams were important, more than simple figments of his imagination though because the monsters were also in them. They were called hollows in the dreams and sometimes when he was a Shinigami he fought with these hollows. Like the ghosts, he had been seeing the hollows all his life; but he was always careful to hide from them outside of the dreams. He didn�t need the dreams to know the hollows were dangerous, every fiber of his being screamed it to him when he sensed them.

Midori was muttering at him but he just smiled a tiny, serene little smile and ignored her. He was good at ignoring things. The flash of blue light and spike of spirit energy from outside was harder to ignore and the mystery it presented was all too tempting. He closed his eyes and carefully extended his senses outward. He sensed something powerful but it wasn�t one of the monsters, it was something else.

He debated going to investigate against staying in class where he was safe and gave up. He didn�t bother giving the teacher an excuse when he stood; he just deposited his test on her desk and left. His teachers were used to his leaving as the mood struck him, his grades never suffered for it so most had given up trying to keep him in class when he grew bored. Most days he just went to the library anyway, pouring over whatever books caught his interest.

He bypassed the library today, exiting the building at a quick trot, but slowed as he neared the gym. The coaches were not as liberal as the other teachers when it came to attendance and he had no desire to be pressed into playing dodge ball or whatever silly game they were forcing on their students today. He was a firm believer that dodge ball was just another name for government sponsored sadism. He slipped past while the coach was yelling at some other slackers, intent on discovering the source of the strange energy. His steps slowed as he neared whatever it was and stopped altogether when a second energy signature joined the first. Two on one were bad odds unless he was one of the two. He reached carefully into himself, into the source of his own energy and carefully tamped it down. Holding his own spirit force back for too long was painful but he was curious about the strange spirits he was sensing and he had never been good about resisting his curiosity.

He slid carefully nearer, daring a peek around a corner into a shadowy area formed by three buildings coming together. The narrow alley-like space was normally used by the stoners to take a hit at lunch. Two strange men stood in it now. Both were too old to be high schoolers, he would put them in their early to mid thirties maybe. One was pale with dark hair and glasses. He was dressed in white and was smirking at his companion, a red haired man. The redhead was dressed in the black robes of a Shinigami, his long hair was tied up into a ridiculous ponytail and tattoos covered his face and neck. He was frowning at his companion.

�I won, first one here and six hollows,� purred the man with the glasses.

�Yeah, yeah, I got held up with an Arrancar,� growled the redhead.

�Our bet never mentioned strength of opponents, merely number and first here. Most remiss of you,� said the man with the glasses. Something about the smug gleam in his eyes and the superior twist of his lips pulled at Kisuke�s memory. For a moment he could have sworn he knew this man, not as he was now, but younger. Then another face flashed over that image, a different man, pale hair but with the same smug look. He tried to examine the images, draw some sense of who the men were from his labyrinth-like mind, but came up empty. He pushed the images away, growing frustrated as his brain refused to provide anything beyond the vague jumble of images that made no sense.

�You�re such an asshole,� muttered the redhead, but there was warmth in his voice.

The other man smirked and almost too fast to see he grabbed the redhead, wrapping him tightly in his arms and kissing him. Red hair tumbled out of that foolish ponytail and Kisuke had another flash, another time watching hair the color of blood tumble free.

A lithe and graceful woman turned to smile at him, red hair falling around her in waves. She was beautiful, sleek and deadly, a goddess of crimson. �Benihime,� he whispered, not knowing how but knowing that was her name and that she was his.

A groan pulled him back to reality and the two men passionately kissing just a few feet away. He heard the sound of zippers falling and retreated with a sigh. The last thing he needed was to be discovered watching them; Midori already gave him grief over the skin magazines he had hidden in his room. If she caught him watching he would never hear the end of it, not that he was opposed to a little voyeurism, he was simply opposed to the part where he risked eternal torment from his ghostly stalker for watching. He was just about to retreat to the library when he heard voices again.

�Where did you find the Arrancar?� That was the guy with the glasses. He heard a snort and glanced cautiously back around the building. The redhead was on his knees looking up at the other man.

�Ya wanna talk about that now?� demanded the redhead, his annoyance clear.

�Ichigo has been getting weird about them lately. He thinks Aizen might be mobilizing again.� There was a pause and something he couldn�t read passed between the two men. �He might be overreacting, you know how he gets this time of year.�

�Yeah, and ya worry about him,� muttered the redhead with a sigh, he didn�t sound angry anymore, more amused. Kisuke nearly laughed at the slightly offended look on the brunette�s face.

�He hasn�t been the same since Urahara�s death. And I�m not worried about him, I�m worried about his ability to fight; there is a difference.� Kisuke wanted to laugh, even he could tell that the dark haired man cared about this Ichigo person. He was getting more curious by the moment. What was an Arrancar? Were they like the monsters or were they something new? He also wondered if the red haired man was really a Shinigami and if he was then what was the dark haired fellow?

He weighed showing himself to them in the hopes of getting answers against the risk exposing himself posed.

�Things have been a little odd in the last few weeks though, more patrols running across Arrancar,� murmured the man with the glasses, his face growing pensive.

�Yeah, one of the rookies in the 3^rd even said he thought he saw an Arrancar matching Ulquoirra�s description,� muttered the redhead, his tone making it clear that he thought the kid was making it up. �Hitsugaya and I shut him up fast.� Kisuke frowned as pain flash through his body, centering in a spot just to the right of his heart, and detached emerald green eyes regarded him from within an expressionless face.

The dark haired man snorted, �Like Aizen would be stupid enough to let him back here. It would be like waving a red flag at Ichigo. It took nearly all of us keep him from storming Hueco Mundo himself after the funeral. If he even thought Ulquoirra was out here�,�

�What are you doing?� demanded Midori, coming up behind him and making him jump. Three pairs of eyes pinned him and Kisuke felt a blush rising on his cheeks.

�I keep telling you people we shouldn�t end patrols here,� muttered the dark haired man with a grimace, pushing his glasses up his nose and drawing himself up tall and straight.

�Yeah, but you complain about everything,� laughed the redhead. He stood, glancing at Kisuke before a strange glimmer lit his red eyes. �Renji, wait!� his companion cried, reaching out a hand for him. Somehow the redhead moved, appearing behind him, laying a hand on Kisuke�s shoulder. The blonde jumped and before he even knew it, was moving. He dropped, pivoting as he did so, then using the crouch like a runner�s start he sprinted past the man.

�Well, that went well,� came Ishida�s snide voice as Renji stared at his empty hand before turning to watch the kid�s retreating back. �I told you to wait.�

�What�s the big deal?� demanded Renji, glaring at his lover. Age hadn�t blunted the Quincy�s temper any but then again, it hadn�t done much to his either, thought Renji, making them well suited. Their relationship had always been tempestuous anyway, it kept things interesting.

�How in god�s name did you and Kurosaki ever make captain? There�s not an ounce of subtly or finesse between the both of you,� snarled Ishida. Renji ignored the comment, he wasn�t subtle but even his volatile lover knew he had every right to his command. He had taken over leadership of the third division during the war and Ichigo had been given emergency control of the fifth. His captaincy had been confirmed ten years ago and Ichigo�s commission had just never been rescinded. Even after the war had slowed to a cold standoff, Ichigo had held command of the fifth; after nearly fifteen years almost everyone assumed that the captaincy of the fifth was his to keep, confirmation or no.

Ishida sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. �Did you even look at the boy?� he demanded, trying to keep a reign on his temper. Long association with Abarai had taught him that conversations went far more smoothly when they both tried to keep things somewhat civil. Not that they always managed, but they did try. Sometimes.

�First of all, the boy saw us,� he held up a hand to forestall the argument he knew was coming. �Yes, in Karakura that means almost nothing, practically everyone can see us. But second, and far more important, there is something off about his spirit thread. His thread is laced with pink.�

�So?�

Ishida bit his tongue to keep from growling, reminding himself that he was genuinely fond of the other man. Most times anyway. Other times, like now, he wondered how it was that he hadn�t killed Abarai Renji years ago. �So! So spirit threads are either white or red! White and red, get it? Mix them and you get?�

�Pink. So what? The kid�s a latent Shinigami or something? Like Ichigo and his sister?�

�No. Ichigo�s thread was white before Kuchiki awakened his powers and Karin�s still is. I�ve never seen a pink thread,� murmured Uryuu, wondering just what a pink spirit thread might mean. �That makes the boy something new.�

�We�ll report it then. We can do it before talking to Hitsugaya about your demand to shift the patrol routes,� murmured Renji, a wicked sparkle in his eyes. �Last one back to base cooks tonight,� he called, taking off running.
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A Shadow of What Was