March 3rd, 2015. That was the day it all started.

Ichigo Kurosaki really hated watching the news. It was depressing. If it wasn't something about the new, coolest video game, or sports news, he wasn't interested. If it was important, his mom would tell him. Like when she gave him a bottle of hand sanitizer and a condom and told him to try not to get Ebola. There were others in the family who could worry. He didn't have the time.

The first thing that Ichigo noticed was the increased police presence. No, not increase. Just the fact that there were blue lights flashing in little Karakura Town was enough to raise his eyebrow.

Two police officers stood at the doors of Karakura High School. The hair on the back of Ichigo's neck stood on end as he walked past them, shoulders raised and body tense. It was making people nervous. Gossip was heavy in Calculus that morning.

Ichigo put his books down at his desk. "What's with the cops at the door?" he asked, apparently rekindling a conversation.

"Someone probably posted a picture of a gun on Facebook," Keigo drawled, leaning his head on his hand. "Those cops are just bored."

"If you ask them what's going on, they just tell you to go to your classroom. It's really weird." Orihime Inoue turned in her seat to face the rest of the class, delicate fingers playing with the ends of thin strawberry blonde hair. "It's scaring people."

Chatter continued for a few minutes. Ichigo really didn't care what the cops were doing there, but he had to admit that it was strange. The energy of the day seemed thrown off. Even his teacher seemed flustered. Keigo was probably right. There was probably some unhinged student running around. It was hard to go about business as usual, but Ichigo knew that dwelling on it wouldn't help anyone. So he went to math class. He went to American History. He- sadly- went to art. And he went to gym class.

As always, he walked home alone. Not that he was an anti-social person, mind you. Quite the opposite. He just liked to take the time to clear his head. His route was fairly tranquil- he'd go around the back of the school, walk the two miles to the hospital, go pat the library, then take Ridgeview all the way to the cul-de-sac. He'd memorized the route as a young child. It was brainless.

You know what was on his mind that day? Nothing too important, really. Just dating. He had a few crushes, as boys his age tended to suffer from. One happened to be the girl in his Calculus class. Orihime, remember? She was cute. Kind of annoying, though. Then there was a girl in his P.E. class. She wasn't from California. Hell, she was from the other side of the country. Her name was Rukia Kuchiki, and she was the walking embodiment of badassery. But he didn't really think she was all that pretty, in his opinion. She was tomboyish, and it was kind of weird that she reminded him of his younger sister.

Flashing lights in his peripheral vision pulled him out of his thoughts. Part of the hospital entrance was blockaded, and guarded by- were those members of the SWAT Team? Curious, Ichigo jogged closer. He watched as the back doors of the ambulance opened. Armed guards escorted a man off the vehicle. He was handcuffed, and there was a mask around the lower half of his face. Mask? No, that was the wrong word. It was more like a muzzle. The man stumbled awkwardly after the guards, pushed along by one more.

"Strange, isn't it?"

Ichigo damn near jumped out of his skin. "God fucking dammit, Ishida," he growled, turning quickly. "You're going to give someone a heart attack."

Uryuu Ishida was an exchange student from Germany. Well, he wasn't an exchange student in the typical sense. They were stuck with him. He'd been raised in Germany by his mother, and when she passed, he was sent off to America to live with his father. At least, that was the story circulating around the school. There was also the option that he was a 'creepy German spy.'

Either option was viable.

Awkwardly, Uryuu pushed the thin, rectangular glasses up his thin, pointed nose. "I was watching, too. This must be why the school was guarded today."

Ichigo scoffed. "Because some Hannibal Lecter wannabe was going to the hospital for a checkup?" he asked, eyebrow raised. "Damn, Karakura's Finest must have a lot of dangerlust if they feel the need to protect the little children from maybe seeing a crazy man drugged out of his balls," Ichigo stated, turning his attention away from his classmate.

"I think this is more than it does appear," Uryuu stated, accent prominent. "My father works for the hospital. He directs the medical.. part." It was unfortunate that English wasn't his first language. It was hard for Ichigo to take him seriously. "Something weird happened, I think, but he won't tell me what is weird."

Bringing his hand to his eye, Ichigo resisted the urge to both roll his eyes and punch the glasses off of Uryuu's awkward face. "It's nothing. Hell, we shouldn't even be watching this. I'm sure it's some kind of breach of confidentiality. Go home, Ishida."

Uryuu pursed his lips, but turned on his well-polished heels. Ichigo tried to forget what he experienced.

March 17th, 2015 was when the silence was broken.

But, as always, Ichigo wouldn't have known if his mother hadn't told him. She came into his room, a bowl of soup in her hands. Ichigo had been hard at work on his homework, headphones vibrating with the heavy bass of the music he chose to listen to in order to drown out his own mental screaming. English was his least favourite subject, and he truly resented having to do grammar exercises at sixteen fucking years old.

He saw her coming out of the corner of his eye, paused his iPod, and turned to face her as he pulled the headset off.

"Hey," he greeted jovially.

She smiled at him, placing the soup on his desk. "I thought that chicken soup would be just the thing to ward off that creepy sickness they're keeping at the hospital."

Ichigo looked confused, but pulled his food closer and ate a spoonful. "What're you talking about? Did they mash AIDS with Ebola?" he joked. Masaki ruffled her son's hair.

"You haven't seen the news report?" she asked. He shook his head. She scooted his wheeled desk chair over with her foot, and crouched down at his computer, typing in the web address for a popular news outlet. She pulled up an article, and gave her son time to read it over.

Never a patient reader, Ichigo skimmed the article, only gleaning the important parts.

"Patient presented at his local Emergency Room with a high fever. Was admitted.. vitals lost," he muttered, reading along. "Patient was taken to the morgue and- revived?" Okay, this was getting interesting. "..Blaming the mistake on a clerical error. Patient was transferred to Karakura Hospital due to extreme aggressive behavior and- mom, this is dumb," Ichigo groaned, breaking away from the TV. Masaki laughed.

"It's quite the work of fiction, isn't it? Some nurse told the news station, and they decided to pick it up for the entertainment value." She kissed her son on the head. "Still. Eat your soup, honey. It'll protect you from the Ebola AIDS," she winked, pulling the door shut behind her.

There was something about a mother's soup. It was comforting without fail. With a roll of his eyes, Ichigo closed out of the poor excuse of a tabloid article that his mom had shared. That was his mom, though. She was a wealth of knowledge- and a wealth of totally stupid, goofy, gossip. He dropped his spoon and picked up the bowl to sip from, and went back to his homework.

Tense was a good way to describe the following weeks. Ichigo's father was a doctor. That job came with a hell of a lot of stress, and it wasn't uncommon for Ichigo to catch his dad sneaking a cigarette before coming inside for the evening. It was, however, uncommon for Isshin Kurosaki to sneak out after dinner, before bed, before breakfast.. and suck down two or three cigarettes in one go.

When asked, Isshin threw on that cheesy smile he was so famous for, and made a big, grandiose scene about how much the world rested on his shoulders. Though his sisters ate it up, Ichigo could see the pain haunting his father's eyes.

"I'm headed off to school!" Ichigo called, jogging down the stairs, his backpack hanging awkwardly off of one shoulder.

"Come straight home, will you, honey?" Masaki's voice stopped him at the door.

Ichigo turned, running fingers through his hair and adjusting his bookbag. "I was going to study at Chad's today." It wasn't a statement to strengthen his mother's confidence, but a question meant to prompt a reason for the perceived non-sequitur. Chad was someone his mother knew and trusted.

Masaki turned toward him, shaking her head and smiling. "I just have a nice dinner planned, that's all."

That afternoon, as Ichigo walked back from school, he was joined by a guest.

"Have you noticed anyone acting weird?" Ichigo asked, looking down at the girl at his side. She was significantly shorter than him, not even reaching his shoulder. She shrugged.

"Do you know how long it took me to notice the regular brands of weird around this place?" came the reply. "I have to know what's considered normal to know what's off."

Ichigo groaned. "Okay, then. God. Have you noticed anything really out of the ordinary?" he asked. "You've been here for, like, a year, Rukia. You know when people are out of their right minds."

Rukia took a moment to ponder. "Well.. I sit next to Ishida in Chemistry. He's been fiddling with the cross he wears on his wrist and putting on a shit ton of hand sanitizer," she suggested. Ichigo rolled his eyes.

"I should have mentioned. Ishida doesn't count. Everything that kid does is weird."

They both went silent as, speak of the Devil, Uryuu Ishida lightly shoved past them, shooting them an unreadable expression before moving on. Rukia groaned.

"Great. Now I feel like a dick," Ichigo sighed.

"You did bad, and you should feel bad."

Sundays were the one day of rest he was granted. All other mornings, he was a slave to his alarm, or his father would either wake him at the asscrack of dawn with a kick to the shin. His brow clenched, however, as he opened his eyes to the feeling of hands on his shoulders and yelling in his ear.

"Ichigo! Ichigo, get your ass out of this bed this instant," his father barked, pulling away his blankets. Thoroughly disoriented, Ichigo threw a punch, only to be neutralized before making contact.

"What's-"

Isshin threw clothes onto the floor from inside of Ichigo's drawers. "Pack what you can, but pack light. We need to-"

"Is something on fire?" Ichigo asked, hopping out of bed and grabbing a shirt and pair of jeans of questionable cleanliness. Isshin paused for a moment.

"Ichigo. Look out your window. Slowly. Don't attract attention."

Nodding slowly, brain still working on connecting everything, he made his way to the window. He crouched down, and pulled the blinds back.

Very funny, subconscious. Ichigo couldn't help but grin. He was still asleep, wasn't he? Strange, how vivid the dream was. He could feel his heart beat through his ribcage. He could hear his father scrambling behind him. He could manipulate the window covering in his hand. He could see the bloodied, shambling men, women, and children roaming the street like a stampede, or a migration.

Fear clenched at his heart. If it were a dream, he'd have awoken by then.

"Ichigo. Take your mother and your sisters, and stay in the house. Do not go into the clinic." Isshin's words were firm and deliberate.

"No. Fuck that. Where are you going?" Ichigo demanded. Isshin held his son's shoulders.

"Ichigo, you have to listen to me. I'm going to the hospital," he explained.

That answer didn't satisfy Ichigo. "Really, dad? Because I'm pretty goddamn sure that a fucking human barricade is a good enough reason to call in sick." Panic was beginning to take hold of Ichigo's voice.

"This is non-negotiable, Ichigo. Stay as long as you can, unless it's no longer safe to do so. If we get separated, we'll meet in Bishop. At that restaurant your mom likes," Isshin stated, patting his son's shoulder.

Without giving Ichigo time to process, Isshin was gone. Ichigo jogged down the stairs, and herded his family into the living room, where there were few windows. They were silent. Words failed.

An hour passed. Maybe two. Ichigo couldn't tell. They sat close, speaking in hushed tones, trying to ignore whatever was happening out there. The sound of claws on the door startled them out of their sense of safety. Ichigo was the first to stand.

"I have to go get dad," he stated plainly. "It's been too long. We have to get out of here.

Ichigo's sisters both looked concerned, but it was his mother who spoke. "We mustn't go out," she urged her son, who promptly waved her off in favor of pulling on his shoes.

"I can handle this," he said with a firm nod. Could he? No, probably not. But he wasn't considering the option of failure. He wouldn't accept anything less than safety and success.

"I love you," Masaki said tearfully, wrapping her arms around her only son's shoulders, She pressed a kiss to his temple.

"I love you, too," came the quiet, almost shaky response. Ichigo turned to leave, slipping quietly out of the front door. The street was flooded with the dead, who turned their attention to Ichigo's brisk movements.

April 12th, 2015 was when humans relinquished control of the earth.