Drabbles, Oneshots, Requests and Moar.

There’s something haunting me. A lingering dread that hangs from a hook on my chest, apparently for no reason at all. I know there are things to think about for the future, dark things. War and death are on the horizon, and Hinamori is still lost inside herself. What bothers me is something beyond these things.

It’s a pain that weighs heavily and smothers my breath. When I’m alone, the silence buzzes at me in a potent way, unwilling to let me forget it’s presence. What could there be that has eluded my eyes for so long, that it could grow like this? Like a parasite, it is a dark and mauling thing that has begun to reach into my whole body. Black, cold tendrils that bite into me when I least expect it. I thought I was past feeling the cold. I thought Hyourinmaru was as cold as anything could be, and he doesn’t hurt. Whatever haunts me, it is bitter. Bitter and ever so cold.

What I need most to examine this thing, what I need to treat it, is peace. Peace to look within myself and speak to Hyourinmaru at length with no outside pressures. Maybe even take a break from my captaincy so that this malady can be isolated and dealt with. Yet I know this is utterly impossible. It would be difficult to procure such a leave of absence even in times of peace. I wouldn’t even consider asking for it when I’m needed so much now, when Soul Society hangs in such a precarious balance.

I am taking time to considerate it now, true. But while I’m inactive, pulled from the real world, there is not much else to do but prepare for orders. If contemplating this will keep it off my mind during a fight, then it won’t have been useless. This heaviness can’t be weighing down my shoulders while I fight Espada. Nothing can hold me back, or the worst could happen.

The frost has settled into my bones again, twisted and jagged. I touch my cheek; there are tears. This ache is… more pervasive than I had imagined. I slide down from my chair onto my knees. This ghost inside me is reaching into my throat and pulling it shut. More tears fall frighteningly fast and are dripping on the carpet. I spread my hands out and extend my arms until my face is close to the floor and it won’t stop, this is maddening. Gravity is pressing down hard in alliance with my phantom, demanding obedience with pain until my joints are creaking. My mouth opens soundlessly, unbidden, and spit collects until it drips. I can’t swallow or close my mouth, and the hurt pounds behind my eyes and in my sinuses. I don’t know why this is happening. Is this the anger of some unknown God, a hidden curse of Kidou, an illness?

My cartilage starts to feel like it is solidifying and cracking. Like brittle stone, the pressure is starting to crush me into a fine dust. But finally, I give up on my defiance and fall to the ground. Sobs overtake my body as though I have no say in it; they are forceful and wracking and carry their own unique despair that threatens to burst apart my ribs. My dignity is gone, my manner, my honor. The air around me, the wraith within me have stripped me of everything and left a skeleton filled with wounds.

I am not the man that I pretend to be. I am the boy that I look like. I am lonely. I am so lonely that one day I fear I might die because the space that encompasses my soul is so empty. Humans are not meant to be alone, yet I have maneuvered myself so well into a place where it is required. My appearance requires all of my skill, requires distance and intelligence to demand respect. I cannot have a friend, I cannot lose my respect, what little I have. I cannot reach Momo. I cannot reach through my own window to grab a hand I so desperately want to take.

Someone, someone who doesn’t matter, someone uninvolved, love me. Don’t care that I look like a child, don’t care about Soul Society, don’t care about my power. A soft keen escapes my throat, and the sound causes another convulsion of anguish. It is such a uniquely destructive pain that grasps every part of me, demanding mourning. Please love me. I pound at the ground with one fist. Even Kuchiki Byakuya had a wife. Ichimaru Gin had and still has Matsumoto in a way. If only I could treat her as a mother, a sister, a friend. Kurosaki is surrounded always by his friends, as is Kuchiki Rukia. Even Zaraki Kenpachi has Yachiru. I let out a deep cry, my only protest against the unfairness of this pain. Loneliness doesn’t need to debilitate me. It doesn’t need to cause this.

I have left it untreated too often. Being willfully oblivious so long has allowed it to fester and poison my whole body. What can I do? I cannot change, I cannot become more open, more accepting. I cannot reach out, I cannot easily let someone in. But someone, think of me. Stop this before this poison kills me.

My breathing steadies, the tears slow. My hands uncurl and my muscles begin to loosen. I am exhausted and my eyes are half closed. My ghost has left my body for now. I imagine it will be back, and if nothing has changed it will be crueler. I will never be able to forget that it exists.

Too tired to move now, and Matsumoto will find me. She has before, and she’ll help, she’ll stay quiet. It’s a small comfort that I’m grateful for. I know I’m not as alone as I feel, that this seems a paltry exaggeration, a problem easily fixed. …But it is not small to me. What haunts me is agony; this isolation is bitterly real. I am empty and longing, still. Even if at this moment my ghost is not consuming me, I will remember the pain.

Always, I am this loneliness. Always I am alone. Afraid, in this empty space, cold and aching. Silent.

…Someone love me.