AUTHOR TIME:

well, first fanfic. . .REALLY NERVOUS. . .. well, um, basically it's set after the time skip and the weird people haven't visited Ichigo yet.

ENJOY! :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Yasashi No Ame The Kind Rain

Dark, heavy clouds hung silently above Karakura Chou. It was as if someone had thrown a grey blanket, smothering all light and sound. People hurried here and there, all hoping to finish their jobs and go home before the storm broke.

All except one.

A young boy, no, a young man with a bright mop of orange hair slowly made his way down the street. One hand held his bag which was casually slung over his shoulder; the other was in his pocket.

NAME: Kurosaki Ichigo

AGE: 18

OCCUPATION: High school student

FORMER OCCUPATION: Substitute Shinigami

The stupid clouds were really starting to piss Ichigo off. They had been sitting there for hours, blocking the sun and not a single drop of rain had fallen. He felt like yelling at it to start raining already. Start raining earlier so it would be over earlier. Things, very bad things, happen in the rain. He would know.

Kaa-san . . . .Rukia. . . .

It had been raining the day his mother died.

It had been raining the day he had fought Grand Fisher.

It had been raining the day Rukia left for Soul Society.

He hated rain. It mocked him, taunted him and reminded him of everything that he had failed at protecting. The rain was mean, heartless and cruel.

But. . .

It cried with him for the loss of his mother.

It cried for him in his battle with Grand Fisher.

It cried in his place when Rukia left.

Ichigo arrived home and went straight up the stairs.

"Okaeri Nasai nii-san! Welcome home, brother!"

"Ah. Tadaima. I'm home."

He dumped his bag on the floor and fell onto his bed, his face buried in his pillow. He turned his head to look outside the window. The clouds hadn't changed.

Something cold and wet ran down his cheek. Ichigo sat up in surprise. Didn't he close the window? Did it start raining?

Outside lightning flashed and with a fierce roar of thunder, the storm began.

What a pitiless, brutal thing rain is.

AUTHOR TIME:

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