Full summary: Hundreds of years ago, a series of cataclysmic events leaves Earth in virtual ruin. Seeing no hope of recovery, over half of the population abandons Earth in order to find a better home. Those who have stayed behind eventually thrive with the abundance of resources now available with their brethren gone, but those who had left are unsuccessful in their search and have become restricted to living in man-made aircraft; on Earth, humans became stronger and healthier, more versatile to their surroundings; in space, humans became more intelligent and cunning as they continued to adapt. When it becomes clear the search for a new world will be for naught, a small group returns to Earth and are surprised to find it nothing like their ancestors had claimed it to be. However, the very first meeting they have with a village of indigenous people ends disastrously, and it changes the life of one young boy forever. On the other side of the spectrum, a young soldier is dispatched at the last minute to assist the small group in their exploration of Earth. The ultimate goal is to improve humanity, but upon arrival she finds the mission has changed.

I do not own Bleach.

Prologue

What woke him first was the impact of his body hitting solid ground, the strange trembling of the walls around him. Before his mind could even comprehend the amount of pain he was feeling having fallen from such height, streams of white light shot through the small window above him and slid across the length of the room. His instinct kicked in and he rolled himself underneath the very last bunk before it could touch him, too. When it didn't go away, he figured it wasn't harmful.

Forming a fist, he moved onto his back and punched straight up. There was an annoyed grunt, which quickly turned into a confused mumble and then a panicked gasp.

"Shut up," he hissed, crawling out from underneath. The boy on the bed tugged the sheets from his legs, face white and afraid. "Get everyone out of here. I'm gonna tell the Old Man."

"What's going on?" the boy asked, sliding out of bed. "What is that?"

"I don't know, but I don't trust it."

He ducked under the tattered curtain at the doorway and hurried down the hall. All was pitch black, and for a moment nothing seemed out of place. The ground suddenly shook, and he realized what it was that had shoved him off his bed. He stumbled, nearly slammed right into the wall, caught himself on his hands and shot around the corner before he could lose his footing. Already, he could hear people waking in a fuss from their rooms.

The Old Man was standing in the middle of the hall at the next turn surrounded by a group of worried adults demanding to know what was happening. He skittered to a halt before he could slam into him.

"There's a—light," he panted, pointing back toward where he came from. "Coming from outside—it came out of nowhere."

He didn't know what the hard look that came over the Old Man's face meant, but he almost felt as if everything was going to be okay. He moved aside when the Old Man began to march down the hall, trailed along behind him with soothed nerves and loose hands. They were met in the middle by the other boys, and that was when the Old Man turned to him, rested a withered hand on his shoulder, and told him, "Take the children and hide in the trees. We'll handle this."

He knew exactly what that meant. He nodded, gestured the boys toward him, and tried not to look back as the adults continued down the hall. "Get the girls," he said to one boy. "Bring them to the courtyard."

It was cold outside, the night sky black and strewn with gray clouds. The vines crawling the stones beneath his feet looked more like snakes in that moment and the branches of the trees towering on the skirts of the courtyard resembled claws. He sent two boys for supplies just to busy himself, counted and then counted again the bodies in the group—began all over again with a sigh when the girls joined them. When they all stood before him, all thin and wiry and scared, he stooped and gathered the youngest of them in his arms and turned his back on them.

"Come on," he said, and led them past the courtyard and into the woods. There was a time, back when he was real little, where the fear of losing everything had been so palpable amongst his people that a safety net was crafted out for them deep within the trees. It was only a mile away from their village, but it was so well hidden if even a single scrap of the directions there was forgotten, one would lose themselves forever in the forest.

It was only by miracle that he managed to remember at all.

Down a steep trench and through a cluster of ferns and weeds and under the arched roots of a massive tree was a ladder made up of twisted vines and hemp, it led to a home hidden up in the leaves. More rope and vines connected this house to another hidden in a neighboring tree and yet another in another. Four whole homes had been crafted before his people had decided the fear unreasonable.

Should this new development prove to be harmless, it would be.

"Stay here," he told them, setting down the little girl in the middle of the first home.

"Where are you going?" one girl asked him, clutching a bundle of blankets and packs in her arms.

"I'm gonna check on them. No matter what I find, I will come back."

The climb back down and the journey back toward his village felt much longer.

Upon catching sight of his village, he decided to move through the trees around it. The light had come from the other side, and the only way for him to see the source was to face it. He stepped lightly, mulch squishing underneath his bare feet, feeling out for and avoiding every twig in his path. The skittering of small animals made him tense, keep low to the ground the deeper he moved into the forest, the further he went from the children he was entrusted with.

When the first traces of the white light that had started it all pierced the darkness, he slowed down. He rose to the balls of his feet, fingers open, body curved, ready to run at any hint of danger. At the downward slope of a hill, he squatted, slowed down so much he made no sound—stilled completely when he finally saw what he had been looking for.

This enormous black shape sat atop dozens and dozens of crushed trees, that white light a single rectangle on the side where these silhouetted figures stood, and just at the end of this long ramp his people stood led by the Old Man.

Never in his life had the Old Man ever looked so small and frail.

He waited with bated breath for something to happen, clenched his fists so hard his arms hurt.

Something rippled through his people, something like fear and uncertainty, and even from here he could see the moments before the fall, the moments before it all went straight to hell.

There was a shift, the first figure standing on that ramp raising one long arm to extend a hand out to the Old Man—a flash of red snapped from their palm and in the blink of an eye the Old Man had completely vanished.

In his place, suspended for just a second, was a collection of dust that rained down and scattered on the dirt floor.

He hardly even heard his people start screaming in terror before he took off, tore right through the forest and back toward the children he was entrusted with.

The fear he felt settled deep in his chest and tears burned down his cheeks realizing this new burden on his shoulders, as the oldest of them. He would have to protect them now, he would have to provide for them now, he would have to make sure they survived all of this, and it made his insides twist with ice—how could he possibly do any of that by himself?

He was only twelve.

I'll update soon.