Marigold
folder
Bleach › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
1,712
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Bleach › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
1,712
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, and I do not make any money from these writings.
Prologue B
How it started didn’t really matter that much.
A Hollow’s name only ever mattered to the Hollow himself. The shingami might have used them sometimes- if the Hollow survived the encounter and needed to be put on a hit list somewhere- but they were just as likely to scrawl out a description and leave it at that. Besides, to leave the shinigami alive in the first place meant the Hollow wasn’t worth the effort. The more powerful a shinigami got, the less likely they were to go do the dirty work, which meant it was just the small fry left to prey on.
Maybe that was why they all cared so much about their number. Sure, it showed how strong they were, relative to the others, but it was their number. It was stamped on them, carved into their bodies. It was nobody else’s.
They had an identity. Something that had to be acknowledged. They existed.
It wasn’t a surprise that a gift like that came with rules to be followed. And the second he’d stepped outside those rules, it was gone- just that easily, he was replaced, pushed aside.
In all of his existence, he’d never been so angry.
Some of the others called him a god. Still more, their master. He didn’t buy into any of that crap. A shinigami was a shinigami, no matter where their allegiances were. Maybe he owed him a little, for making him what he was now. Since he’d given it, maybe he could take it away.
But it had been humiliating. He had hated him so utterly, so deeply, so desperately- it had consumed him.
Maybe that was what had made it so easy. It had seemed that way, anyway- like it was effortless for him to twist everything around, that it had just been the logical thing to do, that he was the one who had done wrong and should be bowing and scraping at his feet.
It wasn’t like he had believed any of it. He wasn’t as stupid as the others.
He owed him, he knew that much. And he wasn’t the kind that would give his absolute devotion, but- well, a little bit of dutiful obedience never hurt anyone too much.
Except that it had made him stupid. All it had taken was a little bit of complacence, and he’d fallen for it like a class-A fool. Maybe he had never quite declawed him, but those slick promises had made a lapcat out of him just as surely as anything else could have.
It made him sick.
Laying there in the sand, half-dead and bleeding out, he’d known the moment they had left. It was a strange feeling, knowing at once that he had been abandoned by the one who had given him a name and a place and that he was free- at least for now.
He would be free until the last drop of blood hit the sand.
A Hollow’s name only ever mattered to the Hollow himself. The shingami might have used them sometimes- if the Hollow survived the encounter and needed to be put on a hit list somewhere- but they were just as likely to scrawl out a description and leave it at that. Besides, to leave the shinigami alive in the first place meant the Hollow wasn’t worth the effort. The more powerful a shinigami got, the less likely they were to go do the dirty work, which meant it was just the small fry left to prey on.
Maybe that was why they all cared so much about their number. Sure, it showed how strong they were, relative to the others, but it was their number. It was stamped on them, carved into their bodies. It was nobody else’s.
They had an identity. Something that had to be acknowledged. They existed.
It wasn’t a surprise that a gift like that came with rules to be followed. And the second he’d stepped outside those rules, it was gone- just that easily, he was replaced, pushed aside.
In all of his existence, he’d never been so angry.
Some of the others called him a god. Still more, their master. He didn’t buy into any of that crap. A shinigami was a shinigami, no matter where their allegiances were. Maybe he owed him a little, for making him what he was now. Since he’d given it, maybe he could take it away.
But it had been humiliating. He had hated him so utterly, so deeply, so desperately- it had consumed him.
Maybe that was what had made it so easy. It had seemed that way, anyway- like it was effortless for him to twist everything around, that it had just been the logical thing to do, that he was the one who had done wrong and should be bowing and scraping at his feet.
It wasn’t like he had believed any of it. He wasn’t as stupid as the others.
He owed him, he knew that much. And he wasn’t the kind that would give his absolute devotion, but- well, a little bit of dutiful obedience never hurt anyone too much.
Except that it had made him stupid. All it had taken was a little bit of complacence, and he’d fallen for it like a class-A fool. Maybe he had never quite declawed him, but those slick promises had made a lapcat out of him just as surely as anything else could have.
It made him sick.
Laying there in the sand, half-dead and bleeding out, he’d known the moment they had left. It was a strange feeling, knowing at once that he had been abandoned by the one who had given him a name and a place and that he was free- at least for now.
He would be free until the last drop of blood hit the sand.