Author:
Cheb

An Unsuitable Person

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Chapter 1

(Where we see one (bitter-)sweet girl on the collision course with the mantle several sizes too big for her.)

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The view pans over the roofs of the two-story suburb named Nerima. The neighborhood is clean and picturesque, with very narrow streets barely suitable for vehicle movement, there are round convex mirrors at the bends, allowing to see beyond the corner. The panorama is abound with light poles and power lines stretching in all directions.

We hear the angry girl's voice: “I asked you, what is THAT!! Don't you dare to ignore me again!”

The view pans down, to the narrow, deserted street, stopping at the scene in the midst of it.

A pissed, short-haired girl in a bluish-green school dress stays there, facing the four impudent hooligans with skateboards.

The said hooligans obviously aren't taking her seriously, so the girl rapidly loses her temper, using the last ounces of her will to stay polite.

“Hey, what's matter with ya, chick?”

Yes, these youngsters have, obviously, never been attending the same school as her. Otherwise they'd be much, much humbler. Because the girl's left eye is already twitching – not a good sign. They are also dense as logs, because even a non-martial artist could see the hint of an angry red aura enveloping the girl now.

“I. Ask .You. One. Last. Time.” the girl growls, gritting her teeth, “WHAT! IS! THAT! OVER THERE!!”

Any local... Heck, any sane person in their place would try to defuse the situation now. Unfortunately for them, the hooligans are none of the above, and allow themselves a few scoffing remarks. There are four of them, after all, against one stuffy schoolgirl.

The said girl's patience snaps almost audibly.

The jerks then learn that some unimposing schoolgirls out there could be strong as gorillas and hit worse than trucks...

Some jaws hurting and limbs twisting later the dialog returns to its staring point:

“Now would I, please, have the answer: What is that?” the girl says in an exaggeratedly sugary tone, pointing at the base of nearby lamppost.

“That is...” the downed hooligan groans, “Unng... That is a gift...”

“Gift to whom?” the girl asks sweetly, twisting his arm some more.

“Ouch...! To the kid who died here in a traffic accident a few days ago!” The hooligan does his best to cooperate now. A girl that could beat the living daylights out of you without breaking a sweat is scary. A girl who tries to be nice while twisting your arm... it's plain terrifying.

“Then why is it overturned?!” she asks with even more sugar in her voice.

The bottle with flowers beside the lamppost is, indeed, overturned, spilling the water in a small puddle.

“We... We were skating and accidentally dropped it...” the youngster whimpers, still not understanding what this crazy chick got so angry at.

“Then why don't you apologize to HER?!” the girl barks, pointing at her left. With the last word her head seemingly increases in size, gaining almost demonic appearance. The hooligans shriek like little girls – but not because of the demon head, no. There, at the left of her, suddenly could be seen a ghost of a small girl, her face bloodied...

The yelling hooligans scamper away, leaving behind all their skateboards and delusions of being the tough guys.

The short-haired schoolgirl bows to the ghost girl nobody but her could see. “I'm sorry I did show you to them like that.”

“It's nothing,” the ghost replies with a small smile. “After all, it was me who asked you to scare them away. I should thank you.”

“You shouldn't. It's a martial artist's duty to protect those who can't protect themselves,” says the older girl, smiling at her happily. Any traces of anger have already left her face, no one would imagine now how scary she could be sometimes. “Well, good bye then. I should go. Good luck and don't linger in the mortal world for too long!” she waves the ghost goodbye and walks away. The ghost is smiling, looking after her with big, sad eyes.

The short-haired girl walks down the quiet streets, makes a few turns, and finally arrives at the gates of her clan's ancestral home.

“I'm ho-me,” she drawls tiredly, changing from her shoes to house slippers, being answered “Welcome back!” from the dinner table where her two older sisters are already having dinner. “Any news?” she asks without much hope in her voice.

“I'm afraid, no,” replies the middle sister, the black-haired girl with a bob-cut. The newcomer just sighs unhappily.

“You're late,” notes the oldest sister, the taller girl with long black hair wearing a conservative housewife dress.

“Sorry, I was helping a gh...”, the youngest sister begins to reply, but meets one reproachful look and one annoyed, “..etoo... a girl, who was bullied by hooligans,” she finishes lamely.

“Oh please, not your ghost stories again,” the middle sister sighs exasperatedly.

“You shouldn't fantasize like this,” admonishes the oldest sister. “It's so childish.”

She doesn't reply, she just sits down and begins eating with a sour face. This conversation is age-old, she have long since deserted any hope to convince them.

The dinner continues on.

The TV blabbers in the background, spewing out a loads of mostly useless information. Suddenly it draws everybody's attention: “..as you can see, the mount Horai collapsed. We don't know what could have caused this, but some locals claim that they saw a bright glow in the night sky. There are suspicions about UFO...”

The chopsticks in the youngest sister's hand snap.

“Ara...” gasps the oldest sister. “That's the same mountain where...”

“Excuse me,” says the youngest one sharply, putting down the broken chopsticks and standing up. Then she leaves, heading upstairs.

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The last thing you need on top of misunderstanding and worrying a lot about your fiance is some nutty samurai wannabe on your desk. “Just great”, she thought marching up to her and readying herself for another confrontation.

“It's close!” uttered the black-clad girl, seemingly her age, hopping down from the table. A martial artist, she noted by her movements. In garment just like Kuno's, only black. Figures.

The stranger, meanwhile, completely ignored her, heading toward the door. “Yes, I can sense it...”

Her temper ignited like the dry leaves – the dry leaves soaked in liquid oxygen, that's it. How dares this tramp to ignore her so demonstratively!? Instant later the uninvited guest was sent flying with a mighty kick. “Who...? How...? It's you who hit me...?” she stammered from the intruder-shaped dent in the wall.

She didn't pay attention. She was seeing mostly red now. “WHAT DO YOU THINK you are doing IN MY ROOM!!!” she bellowed. “Explain at once, or I...!”

“Impossible! A mere human shall not be able to see me...!”

“I don't care what I should and what I should not, you thief! I ask you again, what were you doing...” She approached, looming menacingly.

The stranger jumped up, landing on her head with one elegant, unbelievably swift motion. Next moment she was planted face-first in the floor, the black-clad girl touching down behind her with a feather-light step.

She swiveled, jerking onto her feet with powerful motion that would make any enraged bull proud. The stranger was standing beside her desk, evaluating her calmly. “I'm a Shinigami,” she said. “You're not an ordinary human if you can see me.”

“Huh??” She instantly went from 'ready to pounce' to 'frozen in shock'. “A Shinigami? Shouldn't you be in a hooded cloak, with a scythe...?”

The black-clad girl stood straight and scowled at her, appearing toi be slightly shorter that even her fiance's female form. “You are too keen in following foreign traditions while abandoning your own,” she scolded sternly.

She was cowed now. “Are you... gulp ..here for me...? Or... Or is it him...?” she was beginning to panic, having just now realized that there was a real, honest to god, angel of death standing in her room. Complete with a katana, she realized belatedly.

“Not for you,” the Shinigami started to explain, “For my purpose is not...”

The conversation was interrupted by a loud crash and screams from downstairs. “She's here for them,” she misunderstood, the icy knot forming in her stomach. “Onee-chan!!” she dashed like a wind.

“Stop! You will perish! No human can fight it...!” the Shinigami cried, following her downstairs.

She didn't care. Because there it was. A bit blurry, but never the less distinct abomination – an elephant-sized spider crouched amidst the inner yard, its head a white and black mask resembling an baboon muzzle, with huge, disgustedly human-like teeth curved in a mocking parody of a smile.

And the middle sister, lying unmoving beside the house wall...

And her oldest sister, the second person dear to her after her late mother, gripped in the monster's pincer...

“Stop!!! You cannot! Step out of my way!”

There weren't any words in this world that could have stopped her at this moment. With a savage cry she charged forward, purposely neglecting any defense and caution... Nothing did matter except her sister's life now.

She managed to dodge the leg swipe – unbelievably fast for such a huge creature – only to meet the lunge of its gaping maw. The porcelain-white teeth weren't pointy, but they were thin and razor sharp, she managed to notice in her last moments...

A black blur knocked her aside, meeting the jaws with a sickening chomping sound. The monster froze in place for a few terrifying moments, then it spat the mangled Shinigami out, and jumped away with a loud shriek, its tongue cut off. Her sister landed in the koi pond, surfaced, and started coughing, leaning on the stones of the pond edge.

She rushed to her black-clad savior, dread filling her entire being. The wounds weren't visible under the black fabric of her outfit, but that sound... And the blood, a lot of blood... “Are... Are you all right?” - a dumb question, considering the circumstances, but nothing else came out of her shell-shocked mind.

The Shinigami girl's body was bent unnaturally, her spine probably broken. “You are fool,” she squeezed, coughing up blood. “Now I could not fight it. We can only wait until it returns, and be devoured.”

“Could we do something? Anything...?” she pleaded, “Maybe I could help you somehow? Call the police?”

“Don't...” the Shinigami girl replied, coughing up more blood. “They cannot see it and would be slain. The only thing we can do is to lend you a bit of my power.” She lifted her gaze, looking her directly in the eyes. “You will become a Shinigami, and so will be able to slay the Hollow. But I shall warn you: the risk is high. It is possible that you will be unable to return to the old body, thus having to leave this world.”

“I will take that risk,” she told the Shinigami firmly, not averting her eyes. She could hear that the abomination has stopped wailing for its hurt tongue and was approaching now. “What should I do?”

The Shinigami girl lifted her sword that she, by some miracle, still held in her bloodied hand. “Thrust this zanpakuto through your chest...”

“And then?”

“Your soul will leave the body and become a Shinigami. The body... Hope it will survive.”

She nodded with grim determination. The monster was close now, she could feel it. Then she remembered that they didn't introduce themselves to each other.

“Tendou Akane. I hope this meeting isn't our last one.”

“Kuchiki Rukia. Do your best.”

The monster lunged.

She plunged the sword into her chest with all her might, an action accompanied with the icy cold and a sickening crunch.

And there was a blinding flash of power...

~~ End of Chapter One ~~

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Thanks for the C&C to:

— Cylon One

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