Title : Fleur de lis

Summary : "Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light." Self-Insert.

Disclaimer : Bleach is owned by Tite Kubo.

Rated : Teen

Language : English, Japanese, Spanish, German

Posted : 12/20/2015

Edit : 12/24/2015 : Some minor misspellings.
05/28/2016 : Rewrote some bits here and there.

[ 01 : I'm like a bird ]

"Freedom is the oxygen of the soul."

- Moshe Dayan

"Paint the sky, make it yours."

A bloody hand scratched her cheek as she stared ahead at the long line made up of dead people. How long had she been waiting? Hours, days, maybe even months since her death. She didn't think it took too long for people to reincarnate but apparently the afterlife proved her wrong. About ten people away was a column of crystalline water which served to 'cleanse' them of their memories before everyone... disappeared in a flash of light.

Watching everyone break down into fragments of light before disappearing upwards - where the columns never seemed to end - was disturbing but seemed to be the only source of entertainment, aside from talking to everyone while else listening to the never ending intercom.

"... slot machine to verify the location of your next life. Remember to keep all hands and feet - or any available limb not lost throughout your incident - inside the Universal Soul Transferal, AKA U.S.T. at all times during the cleansing. We hope that you enjoy your next life. Not that you'll remember us saying this." Echoing throughout the abyss was a click, signaling its end before a chime (re)played. "Welcome to Deceased, Extinct And Terminated Headquarters, AKA D.E.A.T.H and Q. We're the place where all the dead, and I do mean all the dead, go to! Upon your person you shall find a token which shall be used for the slot machine to verify..."

She was starting to get a headache for the umpteenth time. Whoever worked at the D.E.A.T.H. and Q sounded way too happy when it came to announcements. It was both irritating and depressing. How did one even apply to work at such a place? Shaking herself back to reality, the fifteen-year-old girl grimaced in disgust when her hand came in contact with something warm and sticky while raking through her hair.

Her sepia eyes widened only momentarily once she stepped up to realize it was her turn. Swallowing her spit, slim bloody digits, which had unknowingly curled into fists, loosened to reach for the token within her stark jeans. The irony was not lost on her as she gave the barest of glances towards the bloody stains.

The machines worked much like any normal slot machine, insert a token, pull the lever and if luck was on your side, you'll win... What will she win? As if reading her mind, a rolled up piece of paper fell out and onto her hands. Blinking herself out of stupor, she uncurled it open only to fall upon her shock.

The boy behind her - and wasn't that tragic, he didn't have an arm and looked no older than ten - bent over and picked it up for her. "Here you go ma'am" He spoke with a soft lilt of what sounded like a Caucasian accent once she plucked the thin sheet from his hands, croaking a small 'thank you' as she ignored his vital liquid pouring out his empty socket. Taking a deep breath, she reread the words and surely enough, her red-brown eyes did not deceive her.

World : BLEACH

Identity :井上, 織姫 (On the Well, Weaving Princess)

Someone definitely had a fucked up sense of humor up there. Guess there was only one thing left to do.

.

.

.

.

"Aah."

"What happened?"

"Someone hijacked the Reincarnation System."

"... I'm sorry but I seem to have misheard you. Did you say someone...?"

"It's exactly as I said, don't make me repeat myself."

"Where's the soul?"

"They've already passed through the U.S.T."

"Hvad!? Dammit that makes them harder to find! Please, be om, tell me it's not Harry Potter. I'm done with their magic lort."

"Have you forgotten that a majority of us use a sort of magic as well? Regardless, the last universe they passed through was..." a sigh passed, "Bleach."

"Forfanden."

"Indeed."

.

.

.

.

Three years, he'd whisper to himself, a promise sworn only to himself and no one else. Only three more years and I'm free., was what he'd tell himself as slender - much too thin and frail, if he wanted, he could snap them in half - fingers raked his dark locks - thin, messy, filthy because one of them would always forget to pay the bill.

Make do with what you have. For someone who ate only every other day, he was surprisingly tall but horribly thin and lanky. "A walking skeleton" a friend joked, and the teen could only offer a half heart-ed chuckle. Because it was so painfully true.

Three years. He chanted once more, unlocking the door to his house, hell would have to freeze over for him to call this place home, muttering a soft 'I'm back'. No screaming. That was good. No screaming meant his afternoon would be less painful and if he played his cards right, he could avoid them for the rest of the day. Now that he thought about it... they've been gone the whole week. Maybe...

The brunette snorted at the thought while passing their room. Yeah right.

"Sora."

Sora ground his teeth before masking it with a gentle, yet neutral facade. No reason to give the woman something to hurt him with. His mother, as beautiful as she may appear with her golden hair locks and silver eyes was wicked through and through. Watching his friends trip over themselves at the sight of his mother was as painful as it was disgusting. And he could see in the way she bathed herself in the spotlight that it was on purpose.

"Watch the brat, don't kill it."

What?

The Inoue matriarch sauntered towards the exit as her son blanched at her words. Brat? What brat? They don't babysit unless... If you think about it, this was the first he saw the blonde woman in months. Previously, it had been the barest of glimpses, too caught up in his own misery to really notice what had been going on in his parents' lives. Don't tell me...! His mind caught up to realize his actions when Sora found himself standing before their room.

A pale hand curled around the nob, creaking softly as it opened to reveal a rather plain looking room except... Silver eyes glued themselves to the crib lying in a far off distant corner, as though they were trying to push it's existence away from them. 'Out of sight, out of mind.' His conscience murmured. Sora ignored it in favor peering inside the cradle, while avoiding any form of injury on his person as he noticed the way his knuckles were gripped white.

Breathe Sora, remember to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

It, she his mind corrected, was so tiny. Blanket cocooned her form so tightly, he wouldn't be surprised if the pair were unconsciously making attempts to suffocate the newborn. One less mouth to feed. At first glance, the baby appear normal, nothing special, nothing new, only extra mouth and victim to his parent's wrath. Their parents. God, he was, he was a brother! And he had to be responsible for this... Child!

Sora could barely take care of himself and now he was expected to take care of a newborn. Brittle nails dug themselves deep into his, slowly cutting of his circulation as he fumed within the darkness of his mind. Everything... everything just...! Why must everything fall onto me!? An ugly grimace settled itself on his face as he looked down on the newborn and mustering every ounce of hate that accumulated over the past were released onto the girl in three words:

"I hate you."

Translations : (Danish)

*Hvad!? = What!?

*be om = please

*lort = shit

*Forfanden = God dammit

Author Note : The opening simply struck me like that as it is quite rare to read any fanfics that don't go into any detail about what happens after they die and before they're reborn.

When I began writing this, it only just occurred to me that Sora lived with abusive parent's for three years before moving out to raise Orihime. I mean, I know he did that but BLEACH never delved any deeper about Sora's character other than the episode when he became a Hollow. So I think that Sora never did immediately love Orihime at first sight because the way he obsessed over her was simply that, obsessive. Saying how he raised her like his own daughter while living in the same household, I'm sure it was implied that he gave everything to her, regardless of his own wishes.

But like I said, that came much, much later as early on, he merely saw her as a burden. And when you live with abusive parents for your whole life, I'm certain it does more than skewer someone's psyche. And suddenly your parents come out of nowhere, dumping a baby onto your hands saying "This is your sibling. Take care of it." I doubt that person is going to take an immediate liking to them.

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