Characters: Sora, Orihime
Summary: The descent into corruption.
Pairings: None
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Timeline: Pre-manga
Author's Note: Just detailing Sora's fall; also, in this he can't see his chain of fate or see it corroding. Also, unreliable narrator. Just putting it out there.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
He's content to keep watch over his sister even after death. Though Sora would like to be able to rest, free from worry at last, he has always taken care of Orihime, for as long as he can remember, and how could he ever not worry, with no clue as to the state of his sister's well-being?
She goes about her day, smiling sweetly and Sora doesn't think that it can be any better than it is now.
At the first, Sora thinks that this is all the afterlife he'll ever need.
.
Orihime still lights the candles and kneels in front of the small altar. Candlelight bathing her soft face in a warm amber glow, she whispers prayers, the light catching off of her hairpins to let them glitter like little stars, remote and so far away that they're only a distant glitter in the sky.
Sora's eyes narrow slightly at the emerald sparkle. Lab-created emeralds send watery ripples over the wall. It's just a little galling that she only started wearing them after he died. But at least she seems determined not to forget him. As long as he still lives in his sister's heart Sora thinks he can handle anything.
There's something tugging inside of him, making his skin feel just a little tight wrapped over bones. Sora shakes off the feeling and moves on. It's nothing, he tells himself. Nothing.
.
Lithe and slim, beautiful figure of a girl, Orihime kneels down again, and in the dim light the dancing shadows over supple flesh tint almost in line with purple bruises. Blood pounds through Sora's veins, a deep blackness rearing up from the darkest depths of him, animal and hungry.
Forgetting to be surprised, Sora knows that he's felt possessive of Orihime before, that he's always been possessive of Orihime. She is his and his alone; no one else can ever have her, and he's not willing to share. But he's never felt it so keenly, so intensely before, like a beast threatening to devour.
It's like something in him is being eaten, is eating itself, but he can't tell what.
Sora's eyes follow Orihime jealously around the room, never leaving the point where flowers with lab emerald petals hold back copper hair that's starting to grow back to its former length, the ends poking out. She never notices, of course—Sora tries to engage her in conversation once or twice before remembering she can't hear. It still irritates him when she seems to ignore him.
When she shoots out the door on light feet in the way of a dance it's all Sora can do not to scream at her to stay—why waste words on the deaf?—or attempt to run after her. He can't leave the apartment—it always draws him back.
Don't leave me alone here. Don't ever leave me. Always stay with me, always be with me where I can watch over you.
Alone, the eerie quiet compresses upon Sora and tries to tear him apart. And he shatters in little bits and pieces, the edges crumbling. All the while, his skin stretches tight and his eyes grow darker.
.
She doesn't pray for him anymore.
With this revelation, Sora's blood pops with fire when Orihime chatters mindlessly, sweet and ignorant and unknowing and so utterly wrong. The sensation of being devoured returns again with renewed agony as she talks about school and friends and the crush who doesn't know she's alive.
This is not her duty. She should live for him alone, only ever for him and no one else. Her heart should not be divided into little pieces. This time is meant for prayer. This place is meant for remembrance and possession.
Rage mounts as Sora learns the truth as he sees it through his own darkening eyes. She goes about her day, humming, cheery, like a hummingbird on caffeine. There is no concern, no pain, no grief in those bright, lively brown eyes.
She has forgotten him.
.
Sora is aware that he's changing now with alarming speed. Growing animalistic and into a creature of instincts and desires, not of reason. Fro all of him he can not remember ever not being like this. This is the only reality he remembers, the only truth he knows or as ever known.
Orihime has forgotten, but he will not let go so easily. You are mine! Sora will never forget, never let go, never allow anything to put the distance between him and his sister-daughter-child-tormenter again. That much is certain, that Orihime will always be his.
The intense feeling of being devoured has reached its climax and stays there; his whole body feels like a hollowed tree trunk, old and damp and rotting. Now, it is matched by a new, visceral sensation: an empty, roaring hunger. Sora is hungry, starving, never satiated.
He hungers for her, just as he always has.
Sora is growing a new body, one predatory and sleek, a creature of sharp, heavy lines, thick haunches and massive claws. The transformation is gradual and sudden; Sora can't remember when it started and has forgotten what being human feels like. He aches and shivers for the hole within him, screaming to him and telling him to find prey, find food, find something to fill him.
When Orihime knows, when he is able to show her all the wrongs done, Sora will know that she won't forget. She won't ever forget him again.
And they'll always be together. Sora will do anything to be sure that they're never parted again.
Anything.