6 Years Ago...

[ultimatellama]

Dante got up especially early. He was 22 had only had one job and had quit because he'd slept with all the good looking women in his workplace. It was time to move on, and he'd found the perfect job for him. It was easy, it got sympathy, and it was with a super-hot babe. WinRAR.

Yep, his life was looking peachy. He was 22, drop-dead-gorgeous, had a do-nothing job, and was cruising along nicely. He didn't have to conform to society's norms. He didn't need to get on the career ladder or improve his prospects. he was perfect right where he was.

Maybe he wasn't paying enough attention to his surroundings. Maybe he was intoxicated with his own sense of self importance. Maybe he shouldn't have stopped in the middle of the road to fix his hair in the wing mirror of a car. If he'd been paying attention he might have noticed the bus hurtling towards him. Too late.

He was thrown through the air across the street, dying almost instantaneously, so he didn't get the pain until after he was dead, at which point he had bigger things to worry about. He looked down at his own corpse lying on the ground. 'Oh.' was all he could manage at first, the shock and pain of his own death choking his feelings. He managed to augment this seconds later with 'Bugger.'

He looked around. The bus had gone careening into a grocery stall, sending apples and pears flying all over the street. Traffic had stopped and he could see people as if through a veil, slightly translucent making calls on their mobiles, taking pictures, crowding around him. He heard one of them shout out 'He's dead!' which really pissed him off.

What right had anyone to proclaim him dead? What right had anyone to kill him? Him! there was something wrong here. Surely. Some grave mistake. there was no way he could be dead. He had so much to do, so much to give, so many to sleep with...This wasn't on at all.

[Mao]

All things considered, it was very odd for one of her standing to be out here doing this. If she had been taught correctly, other divisions specialized in the dispatch of Hollows. Why then, was one of the Fourth Division, one meant to deal with the sick and the wounded of Rokungai, sent here to do their jobs? ‘Back up,’ they’d said. In her opinion though, they really didn’t need it… unless it was something especially large, but then why would they send her? The female sighed, delicately sweeping a few white strands from her eyes. She was thinking into this far too deeply, and thus, Mao simply… stopped thinking. It would take a small amount of concentration to pinpoint the others, but this mission wasn’t urgent. Humans couldn’t see her, thus, she’d take her time, saving her reiatsu for when it was needed the most.

A graceful leap sent her from one building rooftop to the one nearest, landing mutely before continuing on her path. There probably was a much more direct route to her party, but this part of town was… different, to say the least. Curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she was quickly beginning to realize that she couldn’t see much from up here. Before she knew it, her feet were on the ground. It was an odd feeling, to walk among that which she once was, yet not be seen by a single eye. A parting in the sea of bodies allowed her to look around, allowing her to view these strange mechanical contraptions, spewing their foul-smelling smog into the atmosphere.

Slowly losing interest, her eyes began to wander elsewhere, when a loud screech and even louder crash snapped her vision back to the streets she had previously observed. They were much messier now, fruit from a nearby cart scattered about the paved ways, along with a single body in less than pleasant condition. She wrinkled her nose, but the unease in her stomach quickly left. Death wasn’t exactly uncommon in the ‘life’ of a Shinigami. Weaving through the crowds, the ivory-haired female casually crossed the street, scooping up a stray pear that lay out of its resting place. Rubbing the fruit carefully on her haori, she examined it closely, making sure it was free of dirt and residue before sinking her teeth into it.

The Spirit of the recently deceased wasn’t very old, and his death certainly wasn’t natural. In fact… he didn’t even seem completely aware that he was dead. “Hmmm….” The girl hummed through a mouth full of fruit. She simply examined him for a moment, head tilted in silent contemplation. If he lingered as a Plus for too long, he wouldn’t only attract Hollows; he may be unfortunate enough to become one. Best end this quickly… Another leap infused with reiatsu landed her on top of a nearby lamp post, doing nothing to mask the metallic sound her landing would create. Hopefully, it would be enough to pull his attention. Even if it didn’t, she’d simply wait, sitting upon the device with one leg dangling in the air.

“You’re lucky, you know!” She called to him. If her landing hadn’t gotten his attention, her voice certainly would. “That definitely wouldn’t have felt pleasant if it went any slower.” The pear found its way to her mouth once more, and another sliver of fruit was bitten off. How would he take the news, she wondered?

[ultimatellama]

Dante looked around at the milling people. Maybe he could shout at one of them until they did as he asked them to. He walked up to one of them and waved in his face, peering down to see what the man was looking so intently at. It was his body. 'Damn you people, what's the matter, never seen a corpse before?' he shouted ineffectually at the crowd. Miraculously, the bus driver seemed to be okay, and shakily opened the doors and walked off to come and stare at the body. Passengers trickled off the bus to join him in various states of shock.

Come to think of it, he'd never seen a corpse before. Not a real one, and up close like this anyway. It looked...odd. It was clearly him, but there was no sign of life in it anywhere. Like a television that's been switched off. Like an empty school. It was a vessel for something no longer inside it. He put his hands on his hips and thought about this for a while. 'Wait...am I a soul?' he wondered. 'Is that what's missing from my body...me?'

'If I AM a soul...' he continued thinking whilst walking around the plaza 'then perhaps I can will myself back into my body. It works in the movies, people can't go on because of unfinished business, so they remain...OH MY GOD, I'M A FUCKING GHOST.' he suddenly realised. No wonder people couldn't see or hear him. No wonder he could see his body lying broken on the ground. He'd been hit by a bus, died and now he was a ghost. Great, just great.

What was he supposed to do now? Wander around the earth forever? Was he now destined to see the rest of humanity progress and advance without him, left behind like a discarded doll? Unwanted, unloved and unknown? This was too much. He couldn't take this. No way, not a chance. He was going to get back into his body if he died trying...figuratively speaking.

Taking a good long look at his body, he realised that it was in an awful shape. Limbs broken, legs sticking out at funny angles, bone sticking out of awkward places, and an awful lot of blood on the floor. This wasn't going to be pretty. Suddenly someone turned over his body. one of the paramedics had arrived and flipped him over to put him on the stretcher. His face was squashed and scarred.

His nose was broken in three places, half his cheek was missing and great bloody red marks scored down his face and dyed his blonde hair a grimy scarlet. He felt sick. There was no way he was going back to that body. Death was preferable. Wait...what did he look like now? WAS HIS HAIR OKAY? He ran to a shop window to see his reflection, but while he could see the milling crowd behind him, he couldn't see himself at all. 'Figures...' he muttered to himself.

Suddenly, he heard a voice from up above him calling out 'You're lucky, you know!'. He whirled around and looked about him. The world was fuzzy and unclear, the sounds of the crowd and the cars seemed indistinct and distant. The woman's voice, however, rang bright and clear as daybreak. Looking up, he saw her, beautiful, sitting on a streetlamp, looking more radiant than the harsh neon light. 'That definitely wouldn’t have felt pleasant if it went any slower'.

'Wait, what?' he asked. She was strangely attired, a black robe with an obi and...was that a sword? Despite her outlandish appearance, she was definitely above him, and far more real than anything or anyone else around him. 'You can see me?' he asked, incredulous. Who was this girl? Why was she on a lamp post? How could she see him? Where did she come from? What was her number?

[Mao]

“As easily as you can see me,” she replied, still holding mild interest in her acquired fruit. “Though that doesn’t happen often, if your heart is still beating...” Another bite was taken from the pear, and a few more to finish it off. Satisfied from her treat, Mao quickly glanced around. Gathering crowds had made the sidewalks a bit more difficult to scan, but eventually, that which she sought was spotted: a trashcan. With precision of both aim and strength, the core was tossed from above, landing directly in the half-full can with a dull thunk. Her other leg fell from its resting spot, and for a moment, she simply observed, feet kicking almost childishly at the lack of ground beneath them. “… From the look on your face, I’m guessing you already put the pieces together.”

She slid lazily from her resting spot, and while the distance fallen was enough to injure a mortal, the Shinigami landed with catlike grace. “You,” she began, recapping the situation, “were hit by that,” she nodded towards the bus. “And if the process had gone any slower, you would have felt all of that.” Her arm swayed, hopefully directing his attention towards his lifeless body. At least… what remained of it. “… You may not have been as calm as you are right now… Or… as calm as one can be in this situation, I suppose.” The girl shrugged. In truth, she wasn’t sure how to deal with the recently deceased. Most of the Pluses she had sent on had been wandering in the world of the living for at least two months after their death. Not fifteen minutes.

Her hand rest lightly on the hilt of her Zanpakutou, and though part of her told her to get the job done immediately, another part didn’t want to depart this one right away. It may have had to do with the fact that she wasn’t sure if this one was ready to leave yet. Burials always went smoother when the soul would cooperate…. But the ones that didn’t were mostly Hollows to begin with. What to do, what to do….