To Die Alone: Chapter 1

Colour Fadeout

Hi everyone! :D

Welcome to my all-new second fic! Just to be clear, this fic has nothing to do with my first fic 'This War's Not Over'. I've decided that this one is to be a completely new and fresh start. This fic will probably be shorter than my first one, depending on how much I can think up to build a story. (hopefully I can keep it going!)

Also a big thanks to Lucifer - Traitor To God for the wonderful tribute for my previous fanfic! I thought it was really well done and I'm so happy everyone enjoyed it! Yet again I thank everyone for reading my stuff so far. :)

Hope you enjoy this new fic

He began his new life face down on the sun-baked ground. The heat was harsh on his face, and it took only a moment as his mind slowly worked its way through consciousness, that he realized it was scalding hot. His muscles immediately tried to jerk away from the heat, but they lay uselessly on either side of his head.

Light felt like it would fry his eyeballs out if he let any in, so he kept his lids screwed firmly shut. He felt himself subconsciously flipping himself onto his back, using his torso to pull the rest of his body with it.

A groan slipped out of his lips before he could stop it, his lips wincing in pain as he tried to order his unresponsive muscles to move. He shakily shaded his eyes with his arm, even though his limb felt like it weighed a hundred tons.

He finally dared to open his chocolate brown orbs, forcing them to remain open and adjust to the piercing light. When his eyes did adjust, he instantly tried to take in his surroundings in order to find out where he was.

Old wooden huts surrounded him, but the uneven path of dirt that wound its way through them was creepily void of people.

He slowly shifted to a sitting position, however this took a considerable amount of time. He tried to stand up a few times, but his legs felt like jelly under his body.

The young teen lifted his hands uncomprehendingly, staring at his palms. That was when he noticed what he was wearing. The attire was odd. Not that it was the attire itself that was odd, but rather it felt odd on him. It was a pale green hakama, but it was worn and ragged at the edges. He immediately felt a sense of incorrectness to this attire, as he felt like he had never worn this in the past…

But as the teen searched his mind for how he had got here, what he was supposed to do—the past completely evaded him, and he drew up a blank. He began to feel the dark grips of panic claw at his heart, his head.

He tried to stand up again, more frantically this time, but as expected, his legs gave way again. He felt the sudden urge to scream, to cry out—but no words came out of his mouth, so he sat there—alone…waiting.

It was only after a few minutes—which seemed like hours—that the teen's fear finally broke him down.

"Someone…help…me!" he screamed, every word scraping his throat raw.

His whole body shook, and the teen felt like he had never been so scared in his entire life—a voice told him that. It told him that his old self had never been scared of anything. Before this…this strange loss of memory. The voice was faint, but it was still there. The teen tried to convince himself it was just his imagination, and that he was already going insane with fear.

It was then that he heard the sound of feet and voices, and he was left with a split-second decision. He could try to flee—and not find out whether these voices were friend or foe—or he could stay—perhaps some people might know him—and tell him who he was.

He tried to stand up once more, but the expected thump back down to gravity was no longer a surprise for the teen. He would just have to wait here then.

His heart thumped as he heard the sound of static and voices grow closer, until the swift and agile noises of feet hitting the ground slowed to a walk.

"I think I heard it somewhere around here."

"You think they caught another one?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Dude, you smell like feet!"

"Shut up!"

Then as they rounded the corner of one of the wooden huts, the teen heard a collective gasp.

"Holy crap!"

"Dandelion head!"

"We're all screwed now that he's here."

"I-Ichigo?"

The teen didn't turn his head. Simply continued to stare blankly at the ground—perhaps hoping they wouldn't come and kill him if he stood quiet—maybe they'd leave. But that nagging sound bothered him.

"Ichigo!"

"Kurosaki!"

The footsteps came towards him, rushed and relieved. But the orange-haired boy continued to stare blankly up at them, no sign of recognition on his face. There's that hissing, snarling voice again. It felt louder, closer. He knew deep in the corner of his mind that he should be worried about that voice. But he can never hear what it says, so it's fine, right?

The faces staring anxiously down at him tug at his mind, his past, his memories—his purpose. There were five people, all men except for one petite girl, all wearing the same pale green hakama.

One of the men reached out towards him, and the teen tried to place where he'd seen that familiar face. His heart lurched and tugged as he came up with nothing. His hand smacked away the redhead's before he even knew it left his side.

He had never seen such an agonized look on anyone's face before. And he was sure he never wanted to see it again. But it was plastered all over the petite girl and the redhead's faces, and they looked so shocked and pained that he wanted to get up and say sorry.

"Do you…do you know me?" the teen asked numbly.

He frowned, surprised at hearing his voice for the first time in his remaining salvageable bits of memory. It didn't sound quite right—higher than he would have imagined.

He could see everyone flinch, the petite shaking her head like this was one sick joke.

It was the redhead that answered. "Um…Yeah. Don't you remember?"

The orange-haired teen shook his head miserably. He noticed a bulkier guy attempting to push past a baldy and a guy with feathers on the corner of his eye, but they both restrained him. "This has gotta be one of those crappy jokes of his! I can't believe you're falling for it!"

"Who are you guys anyway? Where am I?" he forced his voice to sound strong; his eyes hadn't missed the swords that were hanging at their hips.

He didn't feel the slap until the petite girl had done it. Her hand was raised for another blow, her eyes ablaze with fury—desperation. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for another onslaught. But the redhead rested a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head.

And the girl did something he hated—and she began to shake, to cry, her look making the teen want to wither away and die.

"Ichigo. Ichigo. Ichigo!" she was shaking him now, but the repetitive sound she made went on unrecognized.

The orange head tried to make sense of it, this word that everyone had seemed to utter ever since he'd met them, the word having been repeated over and over again—like a mantra—as if the word was one of the most important things in the world.

This name.

The redhead was rubbing circles in her back awkwardly as this stranger girl proceeded to break down right in front of the teen. Then there was another face, Four-eyes, as the teen had mentally labelled him.

"Kurosaki," Four-eyes said slowly.

But the orange-haired teen was trying so hard to recognize the two others that he barely noticed him. To be ignored seemed to get on Four-eyes' nerves, as he whirled the teen around to face him from where he sat.

"Idiot! Don't you even remember your own name?" Four-eyes shouted.

An unexpected flash of annoyance sparked the teen's eyes as his gaze flashed back and forth in between the redhead and Four-eyes. Four-eyes gave a tentative smirk, since no emotion had seemed to cross the teen's face until now. And it resembled one of the looks the teen had given Four-eyes so many times before. Perhaps he would remember…?

"I don't have a name," the teen said flatly, finding strength flood into his limbs as he said that, giving him the ability to shakily stand up.

Four-eyes immediately flinched, and the others sharply looked away. The orange head found it better to lie. Perhaps he would seem weak, vulnerable, if he seemed completely clueless about himself. He had to appear strong in front of these people. Just in case they weren't friends.

However, whatever he had said in place of his name seemed to have deeply disturbed them. Why had those words spilled out of his mouth?

"Everyone has a name you moron," Four-eyes growled.

The teen narrowed his eyes at the others, glad that his ability to stand gave him more confidence in what he said. "Well I don't have a name."

He didn't need these people. He could move on his own now. He walked past them, his brows knitted tightly together as he stalked across the wooden huts. It seemed the more he stayed awake, the more his natural character was returning to him. He could hear them catch up with him.

"You can't survive out here on your own," it must have been the petite who spoke.

"Of course I can."

"This is Rukongai," warned Baldy.

The teen halted in his steps although he had never ordered his feet to stop. It was like his body was refusing to go one more step away from them. "What's that?"

"Rukongai used to be a dangerous place. Now it's gotten even worse," that was redhead.

The lost teen turned to look at them searchingly, his eyes scouring the rotting clumps of abandoned houses. "Is this why everyone left?"

"That's right," the redhead nodded, his eyes troubled. "There's no one else here but us. So you should come with us—unless you wanna starve."

"I'll take my chances," he began to turn.

"Wait!" the teen turned to face the petite girl in annoyance. "We'll help you get your memories back."

The petite girl seemed to have reigned in her emotions. He gave them a long stare before his body was already bringing him walking to their side.

"Fine," the teen hissed, trying to hide the suspicion in his voice.

They all seemed to relax as they retrieved their supposed friend. They began to run in a slow jog so that the orange-haired teen could keep up, and this seemed to frustrate the boy because he knew from earlier that they could run much faster. Did they think he was weak?

Baldy and Featherface had sped on ahead with a speed that the young teen couldn't follow. He watched as the bulky man followed with a slower speed, but still much faster than he himself was.

He frowned, pushing himself forwards as his body yearned to retrieve the speed he had lost. He gave a tentative stride. Then another. The sound of static suddenly tore at his feet, and he easily passed the bulky man who stared at him with a dumbstruck expression. He gasped as his body moved instinctively liked he'd done this for a hundred years.

The redhead and the petite girl tried to catch up with him, strangely shocked but pleased, but the teen raced across the air and outran them easily. He was elated. The chase was fun when you knew someone couldn't catch you. He didn't know what was happening to him or how he'd done it, but seeing the houses whizz past him was exhilarating.

He caught up to Baldy and Featherface, where they had stopped in front of a huge house with two enormous hands holding up a sign. The teen's mouth twisted in distaste. Baldy and Featherface both seemed surprised when the redhead, the girl and the bulky man came a few minutes after, tired and breathless.

They both exchanged a hopeful grin, before they gestured to the teen to follow them inside the house. To the orange head's surprise, the entrance was instantly followed up by stairs. This house was very strange.

He could hear noises up ahead as the others followed him in. When Baldy pulled back the sliding doors to reveal the amount of people that had been put in this house, the teen stared. Seven others stared back.

They were all so familiar.

They began to crowd around him, all as joyful as the others, repeating this name that the teen wasn't sure who it belonged to. He stared at the amount of people around him, overwhelmed.

"Ichigo!"

No.

"Kurosaki Ichigo!"

Stop.

"Kurosaki-san?"

There are too many…

"Kurosaki-kun?"

…faces.

His consciousness faded as memories crammed and pushed past others to get into his head. His hands shot up to grab his hair, and he let out a frantic scream. He tried to get away, but the room seemed to swirl and trap him in, the floor looping to push him into one of the walls. Then he felt himself totter backwards, his eyes fluttering shut.

I don't have a name.

He's charging through Karakura Town, soul reapers on his heels. He knows they'll reach him soon, because of the trail of scarlet he's leaving behind. They took him by surprise—while he was still in his human body.

Yet, he doesn't have the will to live anymore. A horrible thing has already happened that he left behind. That he, Kurosaki Ichigo, was meant to protect. And he left them there. He had abandoned them. Because they are really after him. How could he have let this happen?

It is so easy to defeat Kurosaki Ichigo once his body and soul is broken. Once he loses the will to fight, you can snap him in half like a twig. But somehow, his legs still push him forwards, his eyes stinging. It feels odd. He hasn't cried for a long time. Kurosaki Ichigo never cries.

Zangetsu will be furious at him again. He's giving up. But Ichigo feels like there is nothing left to live for. He will never forgive himself for what he's done. But maybe if they catch him—maybe, just maybe—he can spit in their faces and refuse to tell them. He has some pride left. He could at least do it in honour for those he has left behind.

The soul reapers smash into him. Those who were his friends are his enemies now. This hurts him too. They rip him to pieces with their swords. Ichigo loathes himself. He's so weak.

They drag him to the Senkaimon gate. Ichigo's eyes droop before he finally looses consciousness due to his blood loss. He opens his eyes once more before he gives in to the dark. He needs to see a final time the town he loves.

After all, he's never be coming back.

And the first chappy is done~!

Please tell me what you think of this first update to my new story! 8D

Many thanks.