Doesn't Remind Me [Closed/Kohaku/M]

She twisted and spun, hovering like glass wings over a drafty staircase. Dipping, twirling, too close to the sun. Too far away from the ground. Any mistake, any flaw, and it would all crumble again. The entire world, so ready to fall apart all around her. Was that reality? Danger inherent in each gasping breath for oxygen? Did every birth herald a death? Every triumph come on the heels of a massive failure? Life had held beauty before the explosion, before the invasion, before... all of this. It had been special. A gift, carefully constructed. Each minor setback directed from on high. All of them tiny pieces in a grand image that none could catch sight of. But what did it mean when the entire set dissolved? When the director dissipated into smoke, nothing more then words and exhalations? What did it mean for that beauty? That preordained image?

Kohaku was awake. But she wished she was not. There were times of utter lucidity, when she felt and tasted and heard all around her fully. When her thoughts were swooping upward on the wing's of a bird and her heart was beating like the wrap of a long lost friend on the door. Those were the best of times, when she was certain and positive and assured. It was not what remained though. Not at night, not in the times when she closed her eyes, blinking away the sunlight, turning a corner just to see a wall ahead of her. The bitter taste of ash in her mouth when she had thought she was finally on to something. A spoon full of sugar, right?

There were times when she believed in herself. In the world. In beauty. If it was not the same beauty that came from planning, then maybe it was a different sort – the type of wonder you got from the utter chaos of life. The strange symmetry of a railway station, all those bustling people running here and there in their own little worlds. The type of passion imprinted on little strips of plastic, spinning 'round and 'round to produce music. The world was a wondrous place, at times like that. But those times too faded, when she sat down and her body stilled like cold metal solidifying into its final shape.

In the gaps, in between, there was a deep and overwhelming darkness. There was nothing. Because she had lost everything. And only played at the light, at the dreams, at the knowledge. Losing everything was not something to giggle at. Work was supposed to give her a purpose. That was the hope, the desperation. And yet the whole thing, the very word, 'work', had failed her. She knew what to do, little puppet following the marionette strings of another man. But she did not know what to feel. What to think. What to say.

The pavement beneath her feet slithered away, miles and miles disappearing in the blink of an eye. She wandered and yet she was really only sleep-walking. What else could one do when everything had shattered like so much forgotten tinsel, crumbled up tinfoil thrown into the trash. It had looked so shiny before, so perfect, and in the end it was just a piece of metal. Thin and flimsy. Dreams were a lot like that.

Her body stilled, the street swaying gently beneath her feet like the deck of a boat in the midst of the sea. Rolling, roiling... which one? Words were so tricky when you thought in colors. In sensation. In thought. Dropping to her knees, she reached out towards the huddled shape of flesh and spirit and soul and magic and sweaty desperation. Kohaku opened her eyes, because she had to. Because life called to life, and the blood in this street was too much of a pity to ignore. This was her work now, wasn't it? This was her drive.

“Stop running, you are hurting yourself further. I will hide you, do not worry,” Kohaku intoned quietly, her hands running across the broken skin and raised flesh of the Shinigami in front of her. With each delicate touch a flash of light appeared, seeping deep within the body and furrowing around until it met each broken blood vessel and distorted muscle and repaired that which was bent out of shape. She blinked, and in a flash a downy coat of silver burst from her body and covered the two of them, more flashy effect then actual magic. Then again, this mind needed help, and if she could help ease his trouble by making her spells flashier then all was well. In reality she reached out to the minds around them, twisting and turning a bit here, a little there, until no one even realized the huddled girl on the street or the man who would be invisible to most – but not all.

Pulling back, her hands dropping to her sides covered in his blood, she looked wide eyed into the Shinigami's face. “You are hurt...” she murmured, mouth agape at the pain writ into his soul. The very anguish that created the atoms of his mind. The utter hopelessness that formed the bonds that kept him together. This time, there was nothing she could do to ease that type of pain, no soothing touch to wipe away the trauma. Healing of that sort was a mental journey, not a magical spell, and she could only embark on such a trip if the injured soul was willing. 

WC: 919 | GP: 18 | total GP: 18

Their eyes. That was the most disturbing part of it: their eyes. They were so hungry, so driven. His eyes weren’t the same at all. He didn’t want this like they did. His eyes spoke of defeat. That was why they would win. He was broken, he had lost the chords of control. The chains had burned away and they were amok; and they all wanted the same thing: freedom. The only holdouts were the more docile personalities at this point. Nara seemed to accept that she would not win this fight for freedom, and so she held back. The old man in the twelfth cell hadn’t even left the room when the gates opened. The creature (fuck if Ezekiel even knew what it was supposed to be) seemed more intent on causing chaos than actually getting to Ezekiel. But the others, they all wanted the release of release. They all wanted to be the tool, the sword. But they were dangerous. Ezekiel’s body and mind couldn’t handle the shifting. They would tear him apart –further apart –trying.

Hiding in the cell was nothing more than a formality. This was where they belonged. This was their turf, and they would find their way in eventually. It was disgusting how feral most of them became when their goal was so close, their prey so weak. Perhaps he should have simply relented, but at the same time, he knew what would happen if he did. Destruction, not only of himself, but of the world around him. He couldn’t let that happen… Not again.

But just as the bars began to bow and break and crumble, something curious invaded Ezekiel’s inner sanctum. Little spurts of energy, pure energy began to creep through the cracks in the walls, the bars in the window. The pain that he had been feeling, so immense and distant that he hardly noticed it until it was gone, began to slip away bit by bit. Something was happening. He had to open his eyes. He had to see, and so he used the last of the strength his mind had.

Painfully, eyelids peeled themselves open, looking up into an unfamiliar face; beautiful, despite the double vision and shaking chaos that was extending out from the inner-most part of his soul to his perception of the material world. She was telling him that he was hurt, and in his state Ezekiel didn’t even think he could muster a sarcastic “really?” She was right. He was hurt on fundamental levels. This wasn’t going to get better as it was. He couldn’t just march his way through this storm. The realization that he had failed weighed immensely. He couldn’t keep moving. He was falling apart. He could feel it. Was he going to die?

“Help.” The word felt bitter on his tongue. He had tried so hard to forge his own path. He had needed to do this for himself. And now, he had been weighed, and found wanting. And the cry for help, it had probably come too late, hadn’t it? After everything that had happened, after every blow to his body and soul, wasn’t he beyond repair? Why even bother asking now? His ignorance and his pride, his desire for control… He had done this to himself. He deserved what he would get.

Words: 553 (Total: 1,125)

GP: 11 (Total: 22)

One word. So pure in its essence. So unusual, and yet so common. It was a word she felt day after day, in and out, all around her. A word so many thought, screaming into the void. And yet when it came to speaking, to vocalizing that one tiny word – so many failed to do so. It was too shameful, too weak, too embarrassing. They didn't want to be a burden. To strain those around them. To cause worry. They had to be the ones in control, the warden at the helm of their own fate. Their own wellbeing. It was a word that she dreamed about, that centered and drove her life.

Help.

That was all that it took for everything else to wash away. For her worries, her despairs, her unknowns – all of it, every last bit, to disappear in a flash. None of that mattered when there was a life at stake. A spirit in turmoil. A soul about to fall through the cracks. She needed to be needed, and finally someone had given her a job. Someone had unleashed the instinct that flooded her body, providing at long last her own desire to be of use.

Help. That was the only thing she could ever offer. The only gift Kohaku had to give. Her one true virtue. The light in the darkness, and here it had come to shine again.

He was broken and shattered. Not just on the outside, but internally. She didn't need to look long to see it all. The soul that had been coated in blood was in actuality a thousand little bits. A million? All screaming for self-determination. Was this one being, or an entire world coalesced into human shape? No.. No... there was a connection, a faint ribbon of fate tying all the pieces together. They were one and the same, merely faceted like a jem stone. Each individual side breaking off to create the multitude of personalities within. She could only imagine the clamoring.

Actually, it was probably a lot like what she felt. On a lesser scale. The whole world, there within her skull. Then again, at least the Shinigami had the blessing of knowing it was all him. All just parts of himself. Kohaku never knew where she began and the next mind started. Where her pain, her emotions, her sensations started or ended or flowed into another. She had dealt with this since birth though, and learned quite a bit when it came to maintaining sanity. Something the Shinigami was sorely in need of currently.

Wrapping her arms around him, she cradled the body against her chest. So weak. Treacherous little bridges that had to be crossed. “Shush now all of you, don't you realize that you are just imperiling your life? If the body dies, so too do the rest of you. Hush now, it is time to sleep,” she crooned to the tiny bits of soul, fingers digging into his mind and softly brushing their eyes shut. There were so many, the good, the bad, the monstrous. All figments and parts of an individual personality. Everyone had their facets. She had never seen them personified like this before though. Some resisted, some went gladly, but what Kohaku had to offer was a moment of respite. Some peace and quiet. And her will was iron shod. Soothing them all to sleep, she watched as the fragments fell silent and then quieted entirely leaving behind only one.

Ezekiel. She had been unable to determine that before amidst all the shouting. A precious being. With the removal of such distractions her magic went to work on his body, realigning bones and fastening torn flesh and ligaments. How such a body could survive so much trauma she would never understand, but it was all wrinkles in the cloth that he called skin when it came down to it. She would sooth those away, touching here and there to push her spark into the more troublesome parts. Humming quietly to herself, she watched as the body knit itself together under the sway of her magic.

“Hush now little ones, you are safe and beloved,” she continued to murmur to the spirit fragments to keep them subdued. That was what they wanted. To be the one in control. To be loved. To be powerful. To be the real Ezekiel. But what they really needed was to coalesce, to come back together as the family they were. She did not know how to do that, and could not have done such surgical acts even if she had the knowledge. Invading a soul was different from forcing on atomic changes. What she did here and now was blurring the lines of self-rule, but it was not so far as to be a travesty. A betrayal.

“Ezekiel-san, can you hear me? Please, go slowly, but know that you are awake now. No one will find you here. You are safe with me. You are safe.” She whispered aloud, her hands caressing the Shinigami's face, his cheeks, his temples. He was finally whole in form, his body repaired back to a natural state. Now it was time to call forth the mind that had hidden inside so deep, running back to the cells of his own creation. All she could do was let him know that it was alright to emerge. That he was protected. 

WC: 901 | GP: 18 | Total GP: 36

Slowly, wisp by wisp, the sound and the madness faded into the background. The raging poor shards inside of Ezekiel’s mind began to recede back into their natural places, their natural homes. Their powers died out, and in their place, more natural light began to flood in through the barred windows again. And finally, as they meandered, pacified and confused, they laid down to rest. There was a silence, a calmness, a clarity that Ezekiel had not felt since the mad Arrancar had touched his inner sanctum, and for the second time in Ezekiel’s life, set the things that lived inside of his own soul against him. Just knowing that someone was capable of that, knowing that it could happen again at any moment after he had worked so hard for his sanity, unnerved Ezekiel to no end. But for now, there was peace.

The fragile soul opened his eyes, first inside of his inner sanctum, standing and brushing himself off, walking through the prison bars into the primary room of the block where the things that inhabited his mind slumbered. And then, he opened his eyes in the real world, the material, the world of the living. He was being cradled, a hand touched his face. His instinct was to run, to fight this. History taught him the danger of allowing anyone so close, but there was still a weakness in his body and mind, as miraculously healed as it might have been, and so he found himself incapable, too stunned to even move.

“Safe.” Was the first word that he spoke, repeated off of the angelic looking woman’s lips. It seemed like a lie. Ezekiel had never been safe. No matter where he was, no matter who he was with, there was always a danger, even if it was himself. But while his mind questioned the efficacy, the sanity of such a claim, his soul clung to it. The hope, the promise of relief after these last few weeks of hell… It was so beautiful that he could cry.

“Who… How did you know my name?” He muttered, his paranoia and unease still showing their ugly heads despite every lace of energy that radiated off of this woman ensuring him that everything was going to be ok. Just the thought of relaxing, of letting his guard down, made Ezekiel shudder and fear. What if it was another trick? What if it was one of the spirits in his head –the one that resembled Odette –forcing him to see things again? What if it was the blue-eyed Arrancar tampering with his thoughts and perceptions? What if he was still in Hueco Mundo and this was all some elaborate experiment?

“I’m sorry. I’ve got to… No.” He feebly began to try to raise himself, to turn his eyes from the woman’s face and stand. He had to get out of there. He had to keep moving. This was a trap. This was not “safe.” Nowhere was, or ever would be “safe.” The only solution was to keep moving. Momentum would be the only thing that kept the beasts at arm’s length. Even when they slumbered, Ezekiel could feel them there inside of him. “Thank you for… Whatever you…” His breath ran out in the midst of the sentence, and Ezekiel found himself falling again, back only inches, but for what seemed like forever. His vision blurred. Even though his body no longer ached, he was just so tired. His eyes slid slowly shut, and the last thing that he remembered seeing were the wings.

Am I dead? He dumbly thought. Again, I mean? Is this what it feels like to die when you’re already dead? He didn’t think so. The arms that held him felt real enough. The embrace was calming and the sensations in his head felt like home.

“It seems I was mistaken…” He whispered between breaths, his worlds suddenly much more carefully formed and his eyes still closed. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere…” If this thing did aim to kill him, he was just going to have to accept that fact, because there was nothing that he could do about it right now. This situation was outside of his control.

Words: 704 (Total: 1,829)

GP: 14 (Total: 36)

She ached with the sort of heart searing pain that one could only ever experience when it involved another's agony. Ezekiel was bereft. Floating in a sea of blood. And he could not see land, even as she tried to send out plank after plank to form a bridge. That was something that she could not force, it was taboo even now for Kohaku to mold and meld reality. Thoughts were so fluid, fluttering like weak butterflies, their wings beating against the breeze and the sky in turn. She knew how to change their color, their taste, even their hearts, but it was too much power. Kohaku did not dare intervene, even as the Shinigami in her grasp cried out in fear. To wash away his emotions would give momentary relief, but in the long run it would be far more detrimental. She had to have eyes for the long run, for the bigger picture. If she lost sight of that, then her humanity would be gone for good.

Cradling the man in her arms, she loosened her grip so that he would not feel constrained. Pulling back her hands so that he would not think of chains but instead the soft touch of a loved one. She did her best to be what he needed in that moment, to be what his heart cried out for. And yet he was so very very hurt, and her best was not good enough. Ezekiel struggled, pushing and clawing at her as if she were the very anchor tugging him down down into Hell. Kohaku did not flinch, instead she gave where she could and held still when it was required. He was too weak to get to his feet, and it seemed too weak to cling to paranoia as well.

She almost winced as he gave in. The despair that came with resignation was far too painful to hold. “Please do not leave me. I am not Odette, nor am I a Hollow or even a demon and I mean you no ill will. My name is Kohaku, and if you need me to be an angel I can be that for you Ezekiel-san. If it is easier, this might even be a dream. You could be asleep right now, your mind far far away. I am sorry that you cannot trust me, but I will do my best to heal you and help you get back on your feet again,” she murmured, her voice a crooning sort of whisper as if she was talking to a frightened animal. Slowly her hands cupped his body, rubbing soothing circles into the tight muscles of his back and shoulders. Kohaku did not move otherwise, making no overt or threatening gestures.

“I am sorry for invading your personal space. I know your name because I was gifted with the ability to read these things, and because of that gift I believe I can help you. You are torn up inside, your very personality shattered into tiny shards like the glass from a window. Can you hear them all? See them all? They seem so foreign don't they? So dangerous? But they are simply you, different parts of you to be sure, but you all the same. I can not put you back together Ezekiel-san, only you can do that. But I can give you the gift of peace and quiet. I can teach you how to put them to sleep and how to quiet them.” Kohaku let her words fall quietly, cautious with each sentence to speak in a pacifying manner because what she spoke of was truly quite terrifying. Humans were not used to there being people who could see into their soul. Shinigami were even less used to such things, as prideful and strong as they were. She did not want to alarm Ezekiel, but she would not lie either. Hopefully in his disoriented state he really did believe her an angel. It would be all for the best. 

WC: 667 | GP: 13 | Total GP: 49

Ezekiel’s mind began to flow oddly, curiously, as the darkness receded in his head, as the broken prison cells, all rubble and destruction, became more visible second by second. “She can hear me.” Ezekiel muttered to himself, and somewhere in the distance, beneath broken concrete and steel, a speaker echoed the sentiment. She can hear my thoughts. He was amazed by the clarity that he felt. Only moments earlier, his head had been an angry hive, a chorus of voices that were and were not his own. They broke themselves against him and he hid, barely able to form a coherent word.

But then, silence. Peace. It was almost more frightening. The rush to know that this woman, this… thing had done this, that she could hear every single thing that he thought, it frightened Ezekiel on a fundamental level. Everything that he had ever experienced when it came to people capable of penetrating the veil of his inner sanctum had been horrific, scarring even. That very situation, that sort of intrusion, was what had brought him to the place that he was now.

But this was different now. There was something in the angel’s voice, almost a shared pain, an empathic sort of resonance that caused Ezekiel to lower his guard, to relent to her.  Despite the protests that he would normally feel, he had given himself over. His reservations had gone. He simply had to trust her. There was no option to do otherwise. His body, his spirit, they had hit the end of their rope. Once again, he had come against a wall. He hadn’t been able to rely on himself, though suddenly, that seemed less painful than the sensation of relinquishing control of the situation he was in to a complete unknown, and stranger of an entity.

Her fingers wound themselves over his back and the sensation felt like nothing short of release. As his muscles healed and regenerated, he actually began to relax some. Her motions and her actions were precise, almost calculated, but there was an actual closeness to them. There was a faux familiarity baked into them, perhaps due to her ability to touch his mind, to bypass formalities and pretenses, that made him actually feel close to her. The realization of how long it had been since he had allowed himself to be close to anyone began to sink in –not that anyone would have wanted to be close to the kind of person that he was.

He made a noise, something between a cough and a chuckle and a sob that just came out as a sort of chortling, but regained his composure and began to smile slightly, eyes still tightly closed.

The words that she was speaking seemed insane, or at least, they should have. But in reality, they were the realization of things that Ezekiel had already begun to understand, but that he had resisted. The clues had been there, the suggestions. Somewhere deep down, he might have even known more than suspected, but he had denied it. Why? Was it because he was too afraid to admit that this was how fucked up he was inside? Was it because he didn’t want to acknowledge that this crippling disability was not him being unable to control a foreign presence, but him being unable to control himself? He wasn’t sure at the moment, but he was sure that what she was saying was true.

“Can you really?” He muttered between dry lips, his voice barely more than a whisper as he teetered between reality and his mind. “Help me, I mean.” He smiled in a lighthearted and obviously fake way, the sort of charming smile that someone makes to defy the reality of a dread situation. He wasn’t sure if anyone, even someone so powerful as her could help him anymore. But at this point, it certainly couldn’t hurt to try. And if her presence was able to calm him so, to keep the demons at bay… he almost didn’t want to leave.

Words: 673 (Total: 2,502)

GP: 13 (Total: 49)

She leaned forward, her long locks of hair dripping across her shoulder until they danced above Ezekiel's forehead. Oh, the emotions inside of him! They battered at her like a raging storm, wind hiding narrow silvered blades that cut and cut and cut until all she could do was bleed in silence. In camaraderie. As much as it was not her pain, was not her suffering, Kohaku felt it all. And she leaned into the wind with a smile on her face, trying not to cry because it would only worry her patient. He did not need such concerns, not when his very heart was being beaten back and forth across a table like a game of ping pong.

The worst of it all was the fear. The way in which the Shinigami suddenly ceased to struggle as his suspicion and anxiety clawed at his chest with the hands of a true devil. One did not simply allow such things to pass uncontested unless they were truly and fully done. And deep within his soul she could feel that this might be the case. A dreadful internal collapse as Ezekiel stopped fighting against everything. If she had been a lesser person, if her empathy had been slighter in power, perhaps Kohaku would have believed that a victory. The smile on his face, the sudden relaxation in his muscles. And yet she knew it for what it was. Submission. An attempt to shield himself from more pain.

Ezekiel did not so much as believe that she would help as he desperately wished that it was true because he did not think he could resist even if she was about to hurt him. Like a cowed dog all he could do was sink in on himself and wait for the inevitable. The tears, when they came, were a flood that could not be stopped. Gasping at the sheer grief inside of her Kohaku clutched the Shinigami to her chest and allowed herself to cry. To grieve for the strength that he felt he could no longer maintain. To mourn the destruction of his pride. Of his very nature.

Who would harm someone to such an extent that they would cut away at themselves just to avoid being hurt again?

She could feel it as he faked relaxation, as he tried to pretend that he was still in control, tried to grab at any sense of power so that she would not realize just how much she held over him and take advantage. Restless hands smoothed across his body, pressing away wrinkles in his clothing and wiping at the tears she had shed into his hair. “I am sorry Ezekiel-san. I am so very sorry. Please, you do not have to lie to yourself or to me. I know that... I know that you do not feel safe, and that you cannot trust me. But I promise to you, I promise on my own soul, that I will not harm you Ezekiel-san. I would never harm you.”

She could not tear her own heart away from that which was within the Shinigami. Even though to do otherwise was to invoke that dread inside of him, to show the side of herself that was far too omnipotent to ever be considered safe. Kohaku had always endeavored to hide herself away, to disguise and ignore the more disturbing abilities that she held. It was not normal to read a man's mind. To see into his soul. To cry out at his own pain. It was not natural. And she had lost many a soul in showing them this part of herself. The pain all that much sharper as she could feel them pulling away. Feel their disgust and dismay at Kohaku's own soul.  At her very being. She did not want to lose Ezekiel as well. She did not want to realize that he hated her.

But he was so incredibly broken. And Kohaku had no ability to block him out. Not when wave after wave of emotion crested over her barriers and the tears prickled at her eyes each time she inhaled. She could only hope, only pray, that Ezekiel would realize the sway of things. That it was he who held power over her. And that she was sharing in his suffering, not delighting. Kohaku had only ever wanted to help.

“I can help,” she whispered, lifting her head to give him the meager reassurances that were left to her. “I can.” To believe was to create. To speak was to engender. And thus, truth bloomed like a frail blossom in her hands as Kohaku held out the olive branch of peace. 

WC: 765 | GP: 15 | Total GP: 54

He was kneeling on cold concrete and broken stone. Mangled iron bars twisted like hellish art projects all around him. The sun had begun to peak through the wreckage of what could pass for a ceiling to the place. This was his mind. This was his soul, or at least, the plane that it had wrought to express itself. It had grown so much since the beginning, since the tiny cell of noise and pain and guilt. It had expanded into an entire prison block, chocked full of all sorts of invasive exotics, pieces that Ezekiel had finally come to accept were part of him. This place had represented his structure, his control, his ability to hold every shard of what made him “him” into its proper place. He had been given the task of maintaining order over a soul that had somehow fallen apart.

It was an unfair burden, but it was one that he had volunteered for, wasn’t it? He was the voice of the multitude that had spoken up, that had offered to shoulder the load in exchange for the ability to do it, a pyrrhic victory that had held him together, but only loosely. And in the end, had it even been worth it to cheat the cycle? Had it been worth it to cling to this world? He had only thought that his pain from before was difficult, his mind unstable. This new incarnation of himself, this rebuilt Ezekiel with its Lego pieces was almost too much to stand.

At least, typically.

Now, it was quiet. The sunlight felt warm and healing. The aura that the angel radiated through every crack and crevice and reassured him. The spirits around him slept, but there were sounds like wildlife in the background, noises that filtered through the prison walls that he had never even noticed before. What if this one structure wasn’t even the end of it? The gravity that there might be even more of himself out there was simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating.

Ezekiel felt suddenly strong. He felt suddenly alive, suddenly free in the face of everything that had happened. The light that had flooded in, be it from some unseen sun or from this woman, had illuminated everything. The pieces of himself lay pacified all around him. There was only calm. His mind knew peace for the first time in ages, and the clarity was liberating.

“Kohaku.” He spoke, sitting there in the lonely wreckage of what he had once wrought, and his lips moved on the mortal plane as well. It was difficult for him to open his eyes, to differentiate realities. It was much easier for him to simply remain inside of himself for the time being. “Can you… come in?” It was an odd question to phrase, especially since he was fairly certain that the woman’s presence was already in his inner sanctum, but he wanted to be able to see her. If the mad Arrancar had been able to physically bring himself inside, then surely she could as well. With as many tiny souls as already existed there, surely there could be room for one more.  She was a wind, directing things within him, aligning energies, but he wanted to see her face, to look in her eyes and know if she could be trusted. It was easier that way. It was easier to understand when he could see the voice characterized, and perhaps that sentiment was what had created the very faces that he saw around him now.

Still, the words carried both hope and shame. He wanted to see her, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted to be seen, especially not here, in this mess. He felt like a child who had broken something, everything, and locked his own doors. He was like Adam or Eve, hiding himself away from a God that already knew his sin, his shortcoming. This mess he had created, did she really know its extents? Did she really understand how powerless he was without manifesting eyes here to lay upon it? Would she still claim that she was capable of helping him once she saw how broken everything had become? How his world had come undone?

Words: 704 (Total: 3,206)

GP: 14 (Total: 63)

She closed her eyes and focused, feeling her consciousness slip the tether that held it to her mortal coil and then fall down down down into the depths of Ezekiel's own body. It was a risky promenade, to shuck her own defenses instead of merely projecting herself inward. But somehow, somewhere, she knew it was the necessary step. Kohaku had to be willing to give her all if she was going to get the Shinigami to trust her. If she was going to succeed in showing him her true nature, and not just the porcelain mask that her powers cast over her.

Down she fell, slipping through shadow and timbered patches of sunlight, falling and twisting and morphing until she landed on her knees in a field of concrete and metal. Ugly debris, the shards of a soul turned towards internment. Wide eyes took it all in, for although she stared only at the man before her she could feel and sense it all around her without needing to look. He bled shame, and she wanted to touch him once more. To brush and sooth away that satiny coating of humiliation and replace it with something else. Something stronger, a moral fiber that was lurking beneath the surface even now.

Broken. But not shattered. Not destroyed. Kohaku reassessed her earlier assumptions, and found herself smiling faintly, the wide white expression looking comical on her tiny face.

Oh...

She looked down at her hands, at the small digits and the soft skin, before her gaze traveled up the fragile arms clothed in the darkest of greens. A cloak. A familiar cloak. Kohaku blinked, and saw herself as if from afar. A short child standing in a puddle of fabric, pale pale skin framed by large blinking eyes. She shouldn't have felt such surprise, but the transformation was unexpected. Even if in thinking Kohaku realized it made sense.

She had brought herself into the abode of another person's soul, and in doing so had transmitted her own desires into the empty canvas of the mind's eye. Reverting to this form, this state of purity, was just one more step in a complicated dance she had not been aware of taking part in. Bowing her head, the little girl fisted her hands at her sides, unease curling up her stomach walls before settling. It didn't matter. The past, it didn't matter right now. Not what this body meant to her at least. Only what it meant to Ezekiel. He was all that she should concern herself with. He was her sole purpose. The reason she inhaled and exhaled, the reason she brushed away wavy bangs and smiled again.

“I... I am sorry,” even though she had tried to project cheer, the words fell flat and crooked in this place of truth. She tried again, holding her hands out as if to cup the very walls around them. “This is beautiful, Ezekiel-san,” and there were tears in her eyes as she took in the world that she now stood upon. Even as shaky as it was, as downtrodden and warped, she could see the hints of wonder. The parlay of shadow and light, of slumber and consciousness, of beauty and ugliness. This was human. It was not flawed, as he was thinking, not shameful, not a blemish to hide away from or disguise.

“Just because something is broken, does not mean that it cannot be life. And life is so very precious, no matter what shape it takes,” she whispered, a flush of color rising to her cheeks as her eyes gleamed with fervor. “You are surrounded by life. By yourself, others, reflections and refractions. There is nothing bad about this place unless you decide to view it that way. A twist of perception and everything changes...” Kohaku twirled her right hand, her fingers curling in as her palm turned downward.

Suddenly the floor shifted, the walls trembled, and everything inverted itself. Where there had once been grime and demolition now stood smooth cleanness. She had not changed much, merely where the light around them fell and where the shadow now receded. Everything in the world could be appreciated if only you could wrap your mind around how. Everything was a gift. Maybe that was something she too should contemplate, it certainly struck her heart to be thinking such things.

“This is you, Ezekiel. Your soul. Your heart. Your mind. You. And you will always be ideal, in whatever shape you take, and whatever progression you follow. That is because in all of our lives the only thing we will ever have at our sides with no exceptions are ourselves. And if we cannot see the beauty within, then how will we be able to see it out there?”

“To be hurt, and to suffer, these are not shameful things. It is what makes you human, what draws us all together. Shared experiences that mark us as kindred souls. If you had never experienced pain or loss, loneliness, grief, confusion, that is when I would begin to worry about what you were hiding from yourself. But this, this is something that you can work with. This is something that can be healed. You do not even need me, not really, but please do not worry – I can most assuredly help you here.” She smiled again, an ancient and gentle promise that somehow fit on her child's face. 

WC: 903 | GP: 18 | Total GP: 72