Saiko
Sequel to Aokigahara. I recommend you read that first

disclaimer: I do not own bleach or any of its characters, neither do I own the geography around Mt. Fuji.
(1) "best" in Japanese is saikou. The rest explains itself when you need it.

'How tired are you?'

'Uh, not really. Just hungry, really,' Ichigo shrugged at Toshiro's question, his gaze wandering the dried trees standing at strange angles.

'How hungry?' the boy sidestepped a messy pile of discarded items - were those sleeping pills? - and gingerly toed a knife away from the trodden path. How had he not noticed all of these before? The tell-tale signs were glaringly obvious, and he'd missed every single one of them. Oh, right. Distracted by the compass, probably.

'A little. I mean, quite. No, rather hungry, actually.'

Toshiro raised a single eyebrow, a smirk tugging one side of his face.

'Okay,' Ichigo conceded. 'I'm ready to eat a horse.'

'You think that horse can wait an hour while you hike endlessly back to town?'

Ichigo groaned, and he swore Toshiro was laughing. 'You didn't tell me we were so darn far away from civilisation!'

'And how did you expect to be near to civilisation?' that boy was too smart for anyone's good, he concluded. And he walked too fast.

'Isn't there a magic carpet that will fly me at amazing speeds to wherever I want to be with a genie at my beck and call, conjuring feasts out of air to satiate my burning appetite?'

'...No. How old did you say you were again?'

'Seventeen. And you?' Ichigo smiled, ignoring the jibe at his maturity (or lack thereof). There was this certain sadistic joy in having the upper hand, and wrestling a confession about his lack of height from Toshiro was one of those situations.

'Twelve,' he hissed, 'and tall enough for it too.'

Hitsugaya marched on self-righteously at full-speed. He really wasn't about to inform Kurosaki of the bus stop they'd passed ten minutes ago.

/

An hour, many complaints and even more flights of steps later, Hitsugaya happily took his time unlocking his apartment door while Ichigo threatened to collapse on the spot. Upon finally opening the door, he realised that his grandmother also happened to be in the same state. She promptly folded onto the sofa, heaving deep breaths as she did so.

'Toshiro, I'm so glad you're home...I thought that-' she sighed and shook her head. 'Never mind,' the old lady shuffled to the kitchen while Hitsugaya shed his coat and shoes. As he hung the deep blue jacket on the rack and placed his shoes by the doorstep, Ichigo couldnt help but notice the small green jacket and its pale pink counterpart hanging untouched, and the brown scuffed shoes that sat next to a similar yellow pair, seemingly trapped in time.

Deciding not to comment, he followed suit.

It was only when they stepped into the living area did the elderly lady comment, 'you brought a friend home! You must be hungry,' to which Ichigo could only nod vehemently, though Hitsugaya rolled his eyes from his slouched position on the sofa. Trust all old women to only think of feeding children, and trust all teenage guys to only think of food.

He hoped he never descended to such pit-like levels of humanity.

Meanwhile, Ichigo seemed to be making merry conversation with Granny, simultaneously shovelling rice down his throat in quantities Hitsugaya had never quite seen before.

Watching in a queer mix of awe and shock, he continued to eat, vaguely wondering whether they'd run out of food before this Kurosaki was done. He was social; Granny would like that. It had been so long - too long - since the last time the house was filled with warm, endless chatter.

He nearly choked when Granny suggested, 'it's rather late, why don't you give your family a call and stay the night?'

'Really? That'd be great! Thanks!'

Hitsugaya frowned. 'He can't take Momo's room.'

Ichigo froze but Granny nodded calmly. 'U-uh, then, I'll take the sofa. Yeah. That looks comfy. Really warm and welcoming. Very inviting.' He glanced at the two-seater that was positioned next to an armchair. It looked awfully short for someone to sleep on. 'Yes. I like to, uh, curl up and sleep! Short sofas are the best.'

There was an awkward silence before Hitsugaya snorted and mumbled, 'if you insist.'

/

Ichigo was jerked rudely awake by a splash of freezing cold water. He opened his eyes to find a smirking Toshiro and a rather bemused blonde holding a bucket.

'I told you he'd wake up. Pay up, Matsumoto.'

What? When had she appeared? Who was she and where...right. Toshiro's house.

'Come on, Hitsugaya-kun,' came a high-pitched whine. 'I didn't know you'd pour that much water on him.'

'Thousand yen, please.'

'But I haven't been paid yet!'

'I'm pretty sure Granny paid you about five minutes ago. Thousand yen, please.'

'Who are you?' Ichigo managed to coax coherent words from his mouth.

'Me?' the well-endowed girl asked. 'I'm Matsumoto Rangiku, the neighbour. I do Granny's groceries and bring them up for her! It's nice to meet you.'

'Groceries? So early in the morning?'

'It's one in the afternoon, Kurosaki. The next meal is dinner.'

Alright. So maybe he should try to haul himself out of that sofa. On his way to where he supposed the bathroom was, the girl had sprung from her spot on the floor, squealed something about shopping, a date, new shoes and someone called Shuuhei and had promptly disappeared through the front door.

On his way out of the bathroom, he found Toshiro by the door, seemingly also ready to vanish, seeing as how he had his shoes on, and not to mention had one hand on the doorknob.

'Where are you going? The forest?'

'Walking.'

'Can I come?'

'Only if you're not going to get hungry. Pack your own dinner, because I highly doubt what I packed is enough for even half of you.' Ouch. That stung.

'Alright. Wait there, I'll be back,' and he rushed in, hoping Granny had some food ready for him to stuff into a box.

Hitsugaya tapped his foot impatiently, considering for a moment deserting Kurosaki by the door and making a break for it. It seemed, though, that Kurosaki moved faster than he previously thought and before he knew it, the carrot-top was trotting contentedly beside him.

'Hey, you lied to me! You're going to the forest again, aren't you?'

'I just said I was going walking. Do you walk in the forest? I believe so.'

A heavy silence blanketed the air around them as Hitsugaya stepped over familiar tree stumps, batted aside hanging vines and ducked under low-hanging branches he knew were there while Ichigo fumbled and stumbled clumsily behind him.

'Is there a point in this brisk hike, or are you just torturing me?' he finally managed to ask half an hour after entering that ominous forest.

'I'm not here for the forest today, so if you'd kindly shut up? There are better things to see, so bear with it and maybe you'll enjoy something.'

In the long silence that followed, Ichigo realised that Hitsugaya actually seemed happy. He began to slow down, breathing the cold, dry air, relishing in any passing breeze and skimming his ungloved fingers across the bark of trees. A small smile had begun to spread across his features and Ichigo realised that no matter what had happened in the past, whatever he'd had to deal with at school or at home, he was still a kid.

Anyway, he was pretty sure that mature people didn't glean their allowance through bets with the errand girl.

The atmosphere was beginning to lighten up, and the breeze was stronger. The growth seemed thinner and the clearing was emanating an otherworldly glow.

'You came to see Fujisan, right? Here you are,' Toshiro turned his head up, a smile stretched upwards. Ahead, separating them from the mountain was a large expanse of very still, very clear water. Vibrant orange leaves littered the ground where they stood, untouched by human hands. On the other side, activity continued. There were shops, small roads, benches, vending machines. Here, he felt so detached from urban life that it was easy to spend the entire day undisturbed.

That was probably what Toshiro meant when he said there were better things to see.

'How on earth did you find this place? It looks like nobody's been here before,' Ichigo seated himself on the ground next to where Toshiro had made himself at home.

'I wandered the forest a lot after that incident. I found it by chance roughly a week later, but there doesn't seem to be a point, does there? When there was no one to share the spot with. I kept wishing...that I could have brought Momo here.'

'Hey kid. She's not coming back. Please, just accept that.'

'No! You're lying, Momo-nee-chan is still there! If I stop looking for her, then we'll never find her.' The boy stubbornly wrenched himself from the man's grip. Social worker, they called him. Child psychologist. Titles didn't matter. What mattered was that Momo had to come back.

'It's been a week. I know it's hard and it hurts, but-'

'No you don't. Go away!' He remembered turning and running; running away from all that tried to make him believe that everything was okay. Nothing was fine, and nobody seemed to realise that. He tore through the abandoned alleys, charged recklessly into the forest.

He couldn't forget.

Flashes of what happened that day kept surfacing in his mind.

Which turn he took.

Which tree root Momo had been standing on.

Where the fallen branch had been.

When he'd left the house.

When he'd found her.

What he'd been wearing.

What she was wearing.

The sorrowful smile that decorated her face.

The glint of the knife.

The sickening sound of metal on flesh.

Red.

Splashes of red.

Falling.

Crying.

The dull thud of the knife falling to the ground.

Hands.

Cold hands.

Brown eyes.

Empty, brown eyes.

Cold.

Desolate.

Sirens.

People.

He shook his head and kept running. As far away as he could manage. Twisting and turning whenever he felt like. As long as there were no people, he would be satisfied. He had to get as far away from them as possible.

What felt like hours later, the trees thinned, the air brightened. A cold mist permeated the air, and beyond that was deep blue, gleaming in the twilight. He'd never seen Fujisan cloaked in the dim orange light of the setting sun and embellished with the bright city lights below it.

It was, most definitely, different.

And, if he waited in such an amazing place, surely he would meet Momo once more. She loved nature, almost drawn to idyllic, untarnished corners of nature. If he waited here every single day, she would appear, and there would finally be someone to share the joy of discovery with.

'Have you ever brought anyone else here?'

The white-crowned head shook.

'Well, I'm honoured. How does it feel to have someone here with you?'

He shrugged.

There was another uncomfortable break in the one-sided conversation. 'Are you still waiting for her?'

Toshiro nodded, barely perceptibly, staring off into the distance.

'She's really lucky, you know, to have a brother like you.'

He only grunted.

'So, what's this beautiful place called?' Ichigo attempted to lighten the atmosphere. It was, after all, the least he could do.

'Saiko. The Western Lake,' Toshiro's voice was soft and calm, almost trance-like.

Ichigo laughed. 'To think that the best (1) was hiding behind that wall of a forest. Thanks for bringing me here.'

It was quiet again, as they watched the light diffuse away from the night sky. Once again, Ichigo broke the newly-formed ice. 'You're such a sweet kid. Why don't people see that?'

'Maybe because I'm not?'

'You think what you want. Pity we're probably never going to meet ever again.'

'Hn.'

'Are you going to keep visiting the forest?' Are you still searching?

'Every day,' he sounded hollow and worn out. Much too weary for a twelve-year-old.

'Well then, I hope we never meet again, no matter any cruel twist of fate.' I will never, ever let you witness the death of someone I could stop.

end!

AN: hopefully that was a little more conclusive for you guys. Once again, all the places are real, the geography is pretty much there, and I kid you not about Saiko. Went there in autumn a while back and it's really beautiful. Yep. Review, please?

(uh, just in case some people don't quite get it, the "someone" Ichigo's talking about in the very last line is himself)