Infractus Somnium

**I do not own, nor do I profit from Bleach in any way.

*This is a one-shot for now, though I may decide to add a sequel explaining Shiro's side later. The title means broken dream(s) in Latin.

Infractus Somnium

Shining brightly against the dark of the night, the moon illuminated his path to nowhere in particular. Mind racing as muscles move fluidly under slick tanned skin, the orange headed male runs, sweat dripping from his spikes and rolling down his neck before reaching his simple white muscle-tank. He'd only meant it to be just a light jog at first, a simple way to clear his mind and relax his nerves. But the rhythmic motion of his breathing, the swish of his sweatpants, and the hypnotic sound of his feet hitting the paved surface of the road fail to ease his raging thoughts. Speed increasing as the haunting dream is revisited, he is soon at an all out sprint, trying to cover the vivid images with anything he could possibly think of, the only thing not on his mind is a destination.

A woman's voice,"Run Ichigo!" The sound of gunshots and an ear-piercing scream filled the moonless night. Two bodies and blood...So much blood! A dark figure reaches out, a deceptively calm voice, "It's alright now, things will return to what they are meant to be. Come to me, Ichigo." Terrified, the boy runs, small feet thundering down the street and across the bridge that he knows leads somewhere...somewhere safe?

And that was it. The dream never made it past that point. Who were they, these people who haunted his dreams at night? That one in particular, has been a recurring nightmare since his childhood. His parents perhaps? In the dream he is small, and that coincides with the age at which he was adopted. Around time of his first memory, he'd been diagnosed with clinical amnesia. The only thing he could remember was that he was Ichigo...Kurosaki Ichigo, and he was six years old. That was eleven years ago.

He'd always been told that his parents had died in an accident. But his curiosity on what they looked like was unrelenting. When he got older, he looked up deaths that had occurred in Karakura around the time he was found. There he came across the truth. The double homicide of Kurosaki Isshin and Masaki. Despite now having their pictures, he still cannot make them out fully in his dream though. Apparently, the man who had killed them was a previous lover of his mother, and he had also been found dead under a bridge not far from the murder site the next day.

So is he actually witnessing over and over what happened the night they were murdered? It would only seem logical that the faceless figures in his dream were his mother and father, but shouldn't he be able to put faces on them now that he has a picture to go by? And the paper never mentioned anything about the details of the murder or him being there. Unfortunately, knowing the truth about his parents did not answer any questions about the dream.

He had other dreams as well. However, the others are warm, comforting dreams where the only similarity is the woman's voice. He still could never make out her features though, same as the nightmare, where the only details he could manage were those of sounds and inanimate objects. Never faces.

A train sounds in the distance and he is brought back to the sounds of his feet on the road. The night is quiet and where ever he has ended up lacks both people and cars. Slowing to a stop at a random intersection he takes in his surroundings. Run down buildings litter the area, shadowing the hopelessly cracked sidewalks skirting the roads, and the only lights are broadly spaced, most flickering, barely hanging on to existence after having been abandoned for so long. Old downtown, or known to the newer generation as the 'hollow city,' which inconveniently happens to boarder one of Karakura's more violent ghetto's, 'Hueco Mundo'.

'Good job Ichigo.'

Turning around to head back, he stills as a figure in dark jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt steps under one of the few working street lamps, directly in his path and only about six feet away. The being looks to be a little taller than himself, the build hard to determine under the large sweatshirt. Eyes darting around quickly he comes to the conclusion that the person is alone but doesn't let his guard down. This close to Hueco Mundo, it'd be a miracle to come across someone who didn't know a thing or two about fighting.

"What's a little Strawberry like yerself doin' in this part'a town?"

Recognizing the echo-like voice of his white doppelganger, classmate, and above all, nemesis, the orange headed teen falls back into a fighting stance, ready to defend if necessary. "I could ask you the same thing Snowflake. It's pretty late, did you conveniently forget again that we have school tomorrow?"

The other male laughs, the eerie pitch sending chills down Ichigo's spine. He reaches up, removing the black hood to reveal silvery white locks, equally pale skin, and piercing golden eyes that could make even the bravest of men flinch.

"Why Kurosaki, I never woulda thought such a stuck up pretty boy would be worried 'bout the attendance record of a good fer nothin' delinquent. Ya miss me that much?"

Ichigo knew that the teasing was meant to rile him up, and with anyone else he would have taken the bait, but it's a dangerous game, playing into Shirosaki's hands. Not to mention that the long sprint had him pretty exhausted and he wanted try to avoiding a fight if at all possible.

"Well, class is pretty quiet without you there, teacher not yelling and all."

The white male smirks and Ichigo makes the conscious effort not to shrink back. "Now that we've established how hopelessly bored ya are without me, answer my question, what are ya doin' out here?"

"Out for a run, ended up out here. That a problem?" 'Yes, because that's how to avoid a fight, stupid.'

Shirosaki's smirk grows impossibly larger, "Only if I gotta beat yer ass to get ya ta stay out. Then I imagine it'd be somethin' of a problem for ya."

"That all you want? No problem, I was on my way outta this shit-hole before you stopped me anyway."

Ichigo could tell that his refusal to rise to the challenge confused the other, but Shirosaki relented, stepping back to allow him passage. He expected some snide comment about him being a pussy as he jogged past the white form, but to his surprise the albino only stated a simple "See ya at school tomorrow Strawberry."

'Why do I always feel so strange when he calls me that?'

The wind rustles through the streets of a safe, simple Karakura suburb, lightly blowing the curtains around the bed of the restlessly sleeping Ichigo. No matter which way his unconscious body twists, his subconscious will not rest.

"Run Ichigo!" The woman, the blood, the deceptive stranger, the running, crossing the bridge …

An embrace on the other side. Another voice, young, his age perhaps, familiar and different at the same time, "Hey, you okay?"

He only cries in response, clinging to the person now holding him, trying to will the bloody image out of his mind. The grip around him tightens and the voice softens, "Shh, it's alrigh' Strawberry, I got ya now n' I won' let anythin' happen to ya."

He remembers the man and cries harder, finally speaking in rushed sentences, "Please, he's after me! He killed mom and dad and he's after me!"

The boy holding him went impossibly still, if it hadn't been for the breath across his ear, Ichigo might have thought he was imagining his savior.

A hand pet his hair, and the other boy spoke again,"I won' let 'im have ya. Don't worry Ichi I'll protect you, yer safe now."



The sun peaks over the horizon, the soft glow of the light spills past the same open curtains, illuminating a now peacefully sleeping Ichigo.

He finally looked up at the one holding him, from the pure white skin, to the silvery hair, and those beautiful golden eyes.