Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ This Is Nothing ❯ Chapter 1

Notes: Since there’s not really any evidence (that I know of) to contradict me, I’m going with the assumption that in Soul Society they only have very mild weather; it doesn’t get terribly hot, drizzles when it rains, doesn’t get cold enough to freeze anyone to death (unless Hitsugaya calls up Hyourinmaru). Rukia did say that nine times out of ten Soul Society is better than earth, and I’ll take it to mean that goes for the weather as well. I also took some liberty with the group of guys Ganju hangs out with.

This was written when I have only seen up to episode 72, so if any future episodes contradict the assumptions I’m flying with here, I apologize.

Oh, and I don’t own Bleach. Yay disclaimer.

Anyway, on with the story!

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Hanataro was, above all else, a shinigami. He had faced more terrifying moments in his life than he cared to recall. He had gone, empty-handed, to face one of the most powerful men in the Gotei 13 and lived to tell the tale. There was no doubt that when he needed to, he could scrounge up more courage than anyone--including himself--thought he had.

That didn’t change that he was as prone to spooking as a rabbit on crack the rest of the time.

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The late afternoon sky flashed angrily, and then moments later let out a roar so loud that the windows in Hanataro’s apartment rattled in protest. The wind had joined in the hell-raising, making the entire complex groan in ways that the shinigami was certain it wasn’t meant to. The only thing left to happen to confirm his suspicions that this storm had a grudge against him in particular would be for the complex to lose power; that would finally prove that the world was out to make him have a heart attack before nightfall. Which normally wouldn’t have happened for another hour or so, but the dark clouds had succeeded in hiding all but the most persistent of light.

Hanataro sat on the couch, stared in a mix of amazement and horror at the sky beyond the darkened window, and clung to the armrest. His mind raced; what was he supposed to do?! Just sit there and wait for the apartment to fall apart? Storms like this just didn’t happen in Soul Society! But nobody was running for the hills or remarking on it, so that must mean it was safe, right? Right.

Hanataro flinched as another peal of thunder rang through the air. Right, safe. He vaguely wondered if it was nobler to die in a thunderstorm or by fighting hollows and whether he’d be buried with full honors if he died of a heart attack. A distant part of him noted this thunder was oddly persistent, even to the point of calling out his name--

He did a double-take, realized that the banging and shouts of “Oi! Hanataro! Are you in there?” couldn’t possibly be thunder, and stumbled hurriedly to the door. He flung it open and beheld one soggy Shiba Ganju, his hand paused in mid-bang. It took his adrenaline-soaked brain a few moments to realize that Ganju was talking and he should probably pay attention.

“--stupid storm started, but I remembered which apartment number you said was yours.” He had a sheepish grin on his face, and seemed to be waiting for a reply.

“Sorry, what did you say?” was what would have come out of his mouth had he been able to think straight. Instead he said something closer to “Nguh?”

Ganju gave him an odd look. “Why’re you looking like you swallowed a--”

Hanataro never got to figure out what it looked like he swallowed as another crack of thunder split the air and whatever he was going to say dissolved into a flinch and strangled whimper. He could practically feel the blood draining from his face. Skies weren’t supposed to be like this! They were calm and beautiful, not angry and terrifying and looking like something that could kill without a moment’s notice.

The taller man gave him one look, clamped a hand on Hanataro’s shoulder, spun him around, and all but shoved him back in the apartment, and effectively cut off the panic attack he had been spiraling into.

Hanataro shot a bewildered look over his shoulder. “Ganju-sa--” His questioning tone was cut off with a squawk of surprise as Ganju steered the stumbling and confused shinigami to the couch, pushed him down onto it, and plopped down beside him.

“How was your day?” Ganju asked intently.

Hanataro stared blankly. He knew the other man was a bit strange, but to show up unannounced during a storm and drag someone to their couch and demand how their day was? “What?”

“How was your day?” he asked again.

“Ah… alri--” Lightning flashed in warning and another roar of thunder cut him off. He froze and fixed his gaze on the window in a way that suggested he wouldn’t be surprised if lightning ripped through the windows and killed them both on the spot. A light punch on his arm made him jerk in surprise yanked his mind back to the conversation at hand.

“Are you going to answer me, or am I just supposed to assume you spent the day sittin’ here and gawking?” Ganju asked gruffly, though not unkindly.

“Uhm… My day was alright. Why do you--” Hanataro flinched again as lightning and thunder made their presence known as loudly as they could. “–ask.” He finished in a slight whimper and wondered when his stomach would stop doing gymnastics. “Doesn’t that scare you?” He let out a nervous bark of laughter. “I mean, you haven’t been around this world’s weather much either, right?”

The taller man waved a hand dismissively. “This is nothing. My sister’s a fireworks master; I grew up to the sound of bangs and lightshows bigger and better than this.”

Hanataro laughed weakly and willed his heart to stop trying to jump out of his chest every time lightning flashed. “At least fireworks look nicer than lightning. And don’t seem like they’re about to kill you on the spot.”

Ganju gave a shrug, as if the thought of lightning coming in and zapping him to death didn’t faze him in the slightest. “People wouldn’t live here if these storms were really that dangerous.” His confidence made Hanataro’s fear falter a bit.

“Anyway,” he persisted in a ‘trying-too-hard-to-be-casual’ manner, “compared to fireworks, this really does suck. I’ll have to take you to one of my sister’s fireworks displays sometime to show you what a real light show looks like.”

The smaller shinigami stiffened a bit as lightning flashed and thunder made itself known again. It wasn’t quite as loud as the previous ones, though. Hanataro allowed himself a bit of hope at the thought that the storm might be passing.

“As long as it’s not up front near the fireworks,” Hanataro conceded with a watery smile. At least this time he hadn’t nearly jumped out of his skin. “If it’s louder than this, I don’t think I’d be able to enjoy them.”

Ganju simply snorted and said, without any malice, “You and Taichi both. He used to be about as jumpy as you.”

Just being able to talk (or listen, in this case) and keep his mind distracted was making all the difference in the world. Ganju’s demeanor was immensely calming, as well. Despite how he was coming down off his adrenaline high, Hanataro had enough presence of mind to notice something was a bit different–or perhaps familiar–about Ganju’s tone.

Before he could figure out what it was that was bothering him about it, Ganju resumed talking, “Have I ever told you about the guys that live with Sis and me?”

When he shook his head, Ganju went into a few (lengthy) stories about Sanji, Nehero, Taichi, and Adatomo. Mostly about how delicious Taichi’s food was, how Sanji wasn’t really good at fighting but could make fireworks almost as well as his Kuukaku, and about the various injured or half-starved creatures Adatomo constantly came trailing back with. Even if the conversation was rather one-sided, Hanataro was grateful for it. In the half hour or so it took Ganju to run out of stories, the storm had mostly passed and the medic had managed to calm himself down.

As the thunder growled weakly in the background (Hanataro didn’t even tense up this time), the tone he had heard in Ganju’s voice earlier but had been unable to identify clicked. It was the same way Rukia’s voice had sounded when she talked about Ichigo and everyone else she met on earth.

Hanataro smiled wistfully. “You must miss them, huh?”

Ganju shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. “They’re like family.” He glanced out the window and continued in an effort to change the subject. “It’s only drizzling a bit now; looks like the storm’s mostly passed.” The taller man turned back to Hanataro and gave him an analytical, almost worried look. “You okay now?”

Hanataro flushed with embarrassment and averted his gaze. ‘Way to look like an idiot, being afraid of a storm like that,’ he chastised himself. “Ah… yeah, thanks, I’m fine now. I’m sorry I froze up on you like that. It’s just…” he faltered. It was just that he had been alone and the storm was so loud, and for some ridiculous reason that had made everything terrifying.

The other man waved a hand dismissively before Hanataro could get started up with his apologies. “Well, now the rain’s light enough for me to stop boring you and head back without getting too soaked.” He stood up, stretched in a way only cats and other boneless creatures should be able to, and headed for the door with a flustered and protesting shinigami in his wake.

“Ganju-san! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–You weren’t boring me–If you want it’s okay to stay until the rain stops–” Hanataro trailed behind Ganju and resisted the urge to flail. He hadn’t meant to upset Ganju-san by bringing up his almost-family!

The youngest Shiba opened the door and stepped out as Hanataro fretted over whether he should bang his head on the floor in apology now or later. Ganju took a deep breath, turned on one foot, and clapped a hand on the shinigami’s shoulder with enough (unintentional) force to make him stagger.

“Alright! If I’m ever stuck in a storm around here again, I’ll drop by. See ya, Hana.”

“Uhm… bye?” Hanataro called after Ganju’s retreating back; he felt mildly bewildered and unsure of whether he should yell an apology or a thank you after him. After a few moments of watching Ganju duck under various overhangs to avoid the rain as he walked down the street, he settled for a soft “thanks” and retreated back inside to escape the drizzle that seemed intent on getting all over him.

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It wasn’t until a few months later as he got to know Ganju better that Hanataro realized that had been Ganju’s strange way of saying “you’re welcome” and offering to help out again if he was ever needed.

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Woo, the end. I actually wrote most of this story during thunderstorms, since I’m rather scared of them myself. I hope it helped the mood.

Concrit is greatly appreciated and encouraged.