Chapter Text
It was raining.
The Human realm had never been a place he enjoyed. The atmosphere felt ridiculously thin and lacking any kind of spiritual energy, making it hard for strong demons to survive for long without using their own reserve or power. In the long run, it made no sense for any of them to want to stay. It would only weaken them. Obviously, it would also weaken him.
But today was an exception. It had to be.
His pursuers wouldn’t take long to emerge from the Rift, following him closely and fully intending to murder him when the chance arose. He had to be fast and find somewhere to hide, a dark alleyway, an entrance to the sewers, a dumpster, anything would work. His one and only priority was to hide, to get away as fast as he could. He was not letting them kill him.
Amidst the rain and the humans walking down in the streets with their umbrellas, he sprinted and jumped from roof to roof with the agility he was well known for, his body twisting to impossible angles, his legs powerful and reliable, his breathing ragged, his claws ready. What sounded like a loud, lightningless thunder for humans was his cue to know they had arrived to the same realm and would soon be on his tail- literally.
He took his chances to reach a particularly high building and jumped with as much strength as he could, feeling his muscles strain and protest with the effort, an immense pang of pain exploding from the joints in his right knee. Fuck. He definitely snapped something with that. He grunted, crashing on the edge of the roof he was aiming to reach, and used his clawed hands to grab onto it for dear life. Letting go implied a sweet twelve story fall. He wouldn’t risk it, even less with his broken limb. So with his good leg, and pushing himself up with his elbows, he tried to climb onto the structure quickly, hoping to remain unseen after that ungraceful movement, and-
Lightning struck him.
It wasn’t just any kind of lightning. It was the kind of electricity that coursed through his body and brought pain to every single one of his senses. It was the kind of pain he knew wasn’t just randomly caused by nature. It was a sensation he knew he recognized.
Lanza del Relámpago. He should’ve known Ulquiorra would be the one sent to dispose of him.
He heard the loud noise of glass breaking, his grip on the edge completely slipping, and then tasted his own blood as it exploded from his mouth, the red drops contrasting against the water falling all around him, falling with him, plummeting to his pathetic demise on the cold stone streets of the human world.
It hurt. The cold wind hitting his back as he fell hurt. The last remnants of the cackling green electricity hurt. His leg hurt, the brand new, scorching hole in his stomach hurt.
Then everything hurt at the same time, and he faded to black.
✹❂✹
It hadn't been the most pleasant evening, and the world hated him, so of course it would be raining by the time he left work. Unemployed.
He kinda knew it was coming, aware of how the company was in a low spot and firing employees like crazy, but a part of him was hoping his loyalty and diligence would be rewarded, and he would be able to keep his job. Oh, well, what was done was done, and there was nothing he could do about it now except look for a new job. Perhaps not a better one, but he needed to pay rent somehow. Anything would suffice.
His more pressing problem, however, was the heavy rain falling on the city, so dense it was difficult to see a few meters in front of him at times. He was lucky he had thought ahead and brought an umbrella in his backpack, but the fear of breaking it was always present, seeing how damaged it was with all the years of use and how unusually savage the wind was. Perhaps he could consider buying a new one, when the stores stopped being as crowded with the Christmas madness and the weather didn’t influence the damn prices as much- he did need to buy groceries soon, though, maybe he could find a new umbrella at the local supermarket, so he wouldn’t have to go into the mall for one... then again, money for rent, money for groceries, he could spare some on a damn umbrella, right? How expensive were they anyway-?
He sighed. One too many things were occupying his mind at once and it was starting to give him a headache. He would be fine. If he ended up being in a real pinch, he could try calling his father and ask him to lend him a hand. It wasn’t like he was completely abandoned to his own luck and had nowhere to go to in case of an emergency like the end of the world or, in this particular situation, getting fired out of nowhere. There were people out there who had it one hundred times worse than him and could still push forward, he had to show the same strength and keep going. No situation could ever be absolutely hopeless.
The horribly loud sound of a thunder got him out of his train of thought, and he stopped dead on his tracks to look around. People around him stopped too, some yelling in fear and surprise, everyone exchanging glances with everyone asking the same silent question of “what the hell was that?”. A woman even took her headphones off and asked if there had been an explosion. So that’s how loud it was, huh? He wasn’t sure if his ears had been playing tricks on him and he had imagined it to be so powerful or if it really was that way. It seemed like it was.
The general confusion only lasted a minute or two before things began going back to normal. Businessmen went back to running, clutching their suitcases with one hand and their coats or umbrellas with the other, transit kept moving as if nothing had happened, and he merely shrugged and walked forwards, intending to get home as soon as possible and trying not to step on water puddles. His shoes would definitely hate him for that.
Rounding a corner, he walked down his usual path home in silence. His mind replayed the thunder he had just heard, probably trying to make sense of it. It was so loud he should’ve seen the lightning, but who was he to make any scientific judgement on it? He wasn’t a meteorologist, maybe sounds like those could happen when air currents clashed or something, it wasn’t like it meant the end of the world. Thunders weren’t dangerous, lightning was. He groaned at the idea of the news making another long, useless segment to talk about fancy weather events like this one, did they have nothing else to waste their time on? He knew the basics of a storm, for God’s sake, he knew how dangerous it was to be out on high places during them, he knew lightning was deadly and could kill a normal person upon contact unless a miracle saved them, that was just obvious stuff. So then why was his own brain making a fuss over the damn noise as if it meant something else? His instincts really needed to learn when they were needed and when not.
Although, they had never really failed him before, if he was being real... so then why-?
Lightning. Too fucking close for comfort.
Everyone on the street stopped, a few falling back on the cold, wet sidewalk. Something had just hit the side of a building, on some poor person’s balcony, it seemed. He couldn’t even hear the glass breaking; his ears were instantly clogged with a horrible ringing, the insides of his head rumbling with the intense explosion he did hear. A baby began crying, people were paralyzed in shock, a few were running around, someone was calling the firemen. The balcony was starting to catch on fire, apparently.
But his eyes weren’t focused on the site of the disaster. He saw it, right in the last second, because he had made the mistake of looking up exactly one second before it happened.
Someone was parkouring up there.
He questioned telling the people around him. They were keeping their distance, yes, but they were still amazed by what had happened, and some had enough brains to call for the authorities, the fire departments, an ambulance; was it a good idea to tell them he had seen someone up there, hanging from the top of the building, extremely close to the apartment that was hit? The light blinded him, yeah, and he had to cover his eyes and look away, so he lost sight of whoever was hit and had no idea what happened to them. He wasn’t even sure they were hit, to begin with.
Still. He couldn’t ignore the fact someone might’ve just died in front of his eyes.
Without thinking, he ran towards the street of the complex, ignoring the few calls he heard of strangers warning him it was too dangerous, and paying no mind to his clothes getting dirty when he slid on the pavement and splashed himself all over. He regained his balance and kept running, his eyes trying to pinpoint the place where the body should’ve fallen. In the back of his mind, the tiny possibility of a miracle vanished when he realized just how ridiculously tall that fall was. Even if they survived the lightning, they could never survive the hit that followed. He gulped and braced for the worst scene he could be met with; hopefully, he wouldn’t have nightmares with whatever he found when he rounded the next corner.
The alleyway was dark and dirty, dumpsters placed randomly with bags of trash overflowing and piling up around them being the only things keeping it from being totally empty and abandoned. It didn’t feel any less dreadful, however. It was almost as if an actual corpse could be hidden somewhere in there, even if it wasn’t during a tragic storm.
He gulped again, feeling his throat being extremely dry, and carefully took a step forward. He looked up and saw the damaged building, and his breath was caught in his throat when he noticed the actual destruction that had happened with it. There was fire inside the apartment, pieces of rubble falling from both the balcony and the top of the structure, and a huge, ugly black scorch mark left on a wide area around it. Up to that day, he had no idea lightning could do such a thing. How could anyone survive that? Maybe the videos going around online were all fake, in favor of not showing the… darker side of storms. The destruction show left behind by a blast of electric heat.
For a moment, he stopped advancing. He questioned whether to turn back and call the police to look for what was left of the body for him; the more he walked into the alley, the wilder his heartbeat was, frightened of what could meet him behind one of the dumpsters. The stone floor was covered in water, making it impossible for him to see any traces of blood on it and brace himself properly. But it was too late now, and he had to do this himself. A tiny, extremely tiny part of him wasn't even sure there had been a person involved, to be honest, and he didn't want to risk looking like a fool in front of the police for giving out fake information.
(He didn't want to think something was telling him to do this, but he couldn't describe the sensation any other way.)
And so he kept going, careful steps, one after another, hurried and wary on the dirty water, dreading the second he found the corpse. It would be any moment now. Any moment. Nothing but a split second. Right there, on the alley…
Except there was no corpse.
Looking behind the last, largest dumpster he found, he was shocked to find out there was no one there at all. He repeatedly looked up and confirmed the fact he was standing under the right spot. By all means, the body should've fallen there; if not, it would've fallen on the street he came from, and that could not have gone unnoticed by him. Or anyone. At all.
He scratched the back of his head, staring at the brick walls and the floor on random intervals, looking for any possible clues. The water really did an amazing job cleaning whatever blood there could've been, that made this all the more complicated. It wasn't possible for a body to vanish into thin air, then why…? How? Had he really imagined it, or…?
A new realization hit him the moment he glanced at the dumpster again. One of its lids looked somehow smashed, like something had hit it with remarkable strength. It bent inwards because of it, and one last spark of hope lit up inside of him. He walked closer to it and hopped onto some destroyed furniture, placed alongside the trash, leveling himself high enough to reach the good lid and open it.
He inhaled deeply, adjusted his umbrella between his arm and his shoulder, then grabbed the border and grunted as he did an effort to lift it. Damn, it was heavy. After some more seconds, however, he managed to pull it up and leave the dumpster wide open. He wheezed, getting some air back into his lungs, then looked over the insane amount of trash bags.
No corpse. He was wrong.
Yes to… something entirely different he was certainly not expecting.
Soaked in water, barely breathing, and trembling weakly every time it did, was a small black cat, with the strangest blue line of fur running from the top of its little head to the tip of its tail. Its leg was bent in a weird angle, and it didn't react to his presence, so it was either deep asleep, or the equivalent of unconsciousness for felines.
He couldn't believe the bizarre sight his eyes had landed upon. It was nothing like what he was expecting, and he wasn't even certain this was any better. Carefully, with the utmost gentleness he could muster, he brought his hands forwards and picked up the defenseless kitten, which didn't react to the touch and simply let itself be brought closer to the young man's chest. It whimpered when he pressed it close to himself, trying to give it some warmth and uttering a small apology for putting too much strength into his embrace.
The sound of sirens and hooters approaching the complex reminded him he wasn't standing somewhere inherently safe, and there was the risk he could be questioned for being there if the police found him in such a strange but also suspicious place. Hugging the cat close to his body and abandoning the idea of a dead man in the alleyway, he sprinted out of the darkness and rushed home through a shortcut. The kitten was safely tucked inside his coat, safe from view and from the water hitting the man head on. For the time being, he didn't care for whatever happened to him. His focus, his priority, was placed solely on the weak being he was carrying, abandoned to die and suffering on behalf of some irresponsible owner.
Fifteen minutes passed, the rain unforgiving during the entirety of that time, though luckily with no more thunders. His clothes wet, his hair damp and his breathing ragged, he finally got up to his apartment and opened the door with shaky hands, his fingers trembling uncontrollably and almost unable to hold onto the keys. His umbrella had finally broken down somewhere during his race home, probably due to the harsh winds hitting it and twisting the metal structure supporting it. It was useless now, and he sighed as he threw it away, leaving it outside on the stairway connecting the buildings. It would get blown away anyway, he just wanted to get rid of it.
Onto his other pressing matter… now that was a nice headache.
Mindful of his own strength this time, he tried to keep the small animal still as he took off his coat and wrapped the cat in it, making sure to keep it warm and not let the wet side touch it. He left it on the living room's floor, then ran to get an old blanket to replace his not very useful piece of wet clothing, and a towel to attempt to dry it off. Midway towards the living room, he remembered his own predicament and quickly took a trip to the bathroom, changing into a set of dry clothes and scrubbing at his hair with his own towel. Once that was done, he rushed to check on his guest, and was glad to see it was still asleep. Catching a wet cat with a broken limb was a situation he didn't want to deal with right then.
The only reason keeping him from freaking out over the fact it wasn't waking up was because he could at least see it breathing, and it made tiny whimpers on occasion, usually when he approached its leg. But then it whimpered loudly when he turned it around to scrub at its belly, and he gasped at the sight of an ugly burn on its lower stomach. Who could do such a thing? Dyeing a poor kitten's hair was one thing, abandoning it was another, but this? This was beyond abuse. It was right out torture. This was just raw cruelty. If only he could get his hands on the person who did this…
He gave a long sigh of exhaustion, his eyes never leaving the animal now resting on his lap as he sat on the couch. He wondered if he should call the closest animal rescue center, but upon looking at the time, he had to decide against it. He could do it earlier the following day. The abused kitten needed help, on a level that he knew he couldn't provide properly; however, just for one night, he would need to stay with him.
Gently, he placed his hand on its head and began petting it with slow movements. The cat responded by unconsciously leaning closer to him, seeking the warmth, and he chuckled, satisfied. Well, it didn't seem like it didn't like physical contact, at least. That was good.
"Don't worry, little guy." he whispered, his voice soft as if talking to a baby. "You're gonna be fine, I'll make sure of that. I'll protect you."
If only Ichigo had known the true implications behind those words.