A/N I thank anyone for reading. Much appreciated. OwO

Another story? D: K.M. what's wrong with you? I know, I know. I'm sorry. DX But I just wanted to try something different. :3

It won't seem like a funny story the first chapter, but it is. :D I only do funny stories, no serious stuff. X3

Disclaimer – I do not own Bleach, if I did, Juha Bach would be dead already. Seriously. Hate that guy.

Warning – Swearing and some things might trigger some... things in people.

-:-

"—critical condition—"

"I'm sorry—"

"NO! You help her, you help her RIGHT NOW!"

"Sir, please—"

Silent, the girl left the door open, face blank and eyes cold as she watched. Her father walked into the house, setting a bag onto the counter and pulling out ingredients for food to cook tonight. He pulled out a bottle of alcohol. The seventeen year old narrowed her eyes and frowned before she slid the door closed.

He was drinking again.

It was the start of a weekend, of course he would drink.

Soon friends would start pouring through the door and they would be blasting music. She hated it. She had no siblings, just her and her father. Her mother had died when she was five, car accident. Her father took it hard, and started drinking his life away.

No, that wouldn't be right.

He kept his job, but he drank excessively during the weekends.

He constantly told her he loved her, but ignored her when she would ask him not to drink for one weekend. He lied. Constantly. To her face. "No, I won't drink." Liar. He's nothing but a useless drunk. She knew, otherwise. He kept his job and did he best to please her by trying to buy anything she wanted.

But she would quickly turn her back and become cold whenever he brought alcohol home.

Useless.

He's useless.

You're useless, dad.

Why don't you try?

She tried to keep an open mind, but the truth seemed to come out whenever he was drunk. Useless.

"Shut up, you little bitch!"

"Get away from me."

"Stupid cunt."

So she threw words back.

"Shut up, retard."

"Whatever, you dumb son of a bitch."

"Fuck you, and get lost."

She wasn't usually someone that swore, but she never cared when he was near. When he was drunk. He wasn't her dad when he was drunk. He was a stranger. If he cared, why didn't he try getting help? She closed her mind whenever someone tried telling her that he couldn't help it, that he drank like she drank pop almost every day. Who cared?

He threw a bottle at her, one time.

It had hit the wall beside her, but it was close. When it happened she just froze. Her eyes went wide as she stood in place, trembling. He threw something at her. He had tried hitting her. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill. Her father had gasped and stood up, immediately going towards her to console her. She wouldn't let him. Her eyes went cold before she curled her lip, sneering, and pushed him away when he came close.

"I HATE YOU!"

She had went to her room, slammed the door shut, and locked it so he wouldn't get it. He tried talking to her for a couple minutes and left. Over the week he had tried making it up to her, telling her if she wanted a new game. She didn't. "We need food." she had said. So he left it. She had started to forgive him, thinking that he may quit drinking if he had almost hurt her. Humph... right...

He drank the next weekend.

Of course.

Their relationship was only strained during the weekends, but they were a loving father and daughter during the week. He often tried telling her to go out, but she wouldn't. She didn't like going out, she barely had friends. The only friends she had were ones she hung out with at school, and even then it was only three people. She was a loner, one someone could poke fun at easily, and just stayed out of the way.

I wonder if mom thought I'd end up different.

She wasn't really... great.

She was socially crippled, alone, wasn't good at sports, wasn't good at much. Except maybe drawing. And playing the piano. She absolutely loved playing the piano. She wasn't good at it, she often messed up, but she enjoyed it immensely.

And scary movies.

She absolutely loved them.

Her anger started getting the best of her during the last couple of years. The fights got worse. They never mentioned it when he was sober, and the tension started to rise. One day, when he was sober, she suggested he should get help. Maybe if he was sober he would listen. Right... He got mad, started yelling that no, I don't need help! He was fine. It was just her that wanted him to stop. So she said well, yeah, why wouldn't I?! You made me hate every drunk that comes into our house!

No, I didn't!

You did!

Just go to your room, like you do every day!

I go to my room to get away from you, you useless drunk!

Don't call me that!

Then stop drinking!

It's not that easy, now calm down and—

It'd be better if you died, instead of mom!

Slap!

They both froze.

It was the first time he ever hit her.

He tried wrapping his arms around her, but she pushed him away and walked to the door as quickly as she could. She put her shoes on and walked out without her sweater. Her protection. She ran down the stairs in shorts that reached her knees and a had a loose shirt on. Her necklace, her mother's, was around her neck safely. She didn't look back, tears streaming down her face as she walked away as fast as she could. He hit her. She could hear him calling her, telling her to come back. No. She didn't want to go back there. She was supposed to graduate and leave.

She wanted to leave so badly.

Have a normal life.

Away from him and his life of drinking.

She dug in her pockets, pulling out ten dollars. She could get a bag of chips and a bottle of water.

She didn't hear the vehicle coming until it was too late.

She looked up, widening her eyes in shock when she heard tires squealing from the breaks being hit. She froze in shock. The light was red.

The one responsible drove away as fast as they could.

Leaving her on the ground.

Someone called 911, the ambulance bringing her to the hospital and bringing her to the emergency room. They had called her father, and he came rushing to the hospital. When he arrived it was to see his daughter covered in tubes and hooked up to a machine. He had cried, sitting beside her bed and holding her hand. She was unconscious.

Though she woke up during the night, starting to sob when she was in pain and that her father wasn't there.

Why should she try? She couldn't do anything. She barely had any talent. Why should she even try anymore? Her dad didn't. She just wanted the pain to stop. She wanted to sleep. She was tired... The pain would stop if she slept. She stared around the room for a moment before she closed her eyes.

And didn't open them again.

They called her death at eight-twenty eight, ten minutes after her father arrived.

Her father screamed.

She stared, watching as the man collapsed to his knees and held his hands over his eyes. He yelled that he was sorry, that he'll stop, that he wants her back. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over, running down her face. She whimpered, bottom lip trembling before she fell to her knees, as well.

"I'm sorry! Please, God, I'm sorry!"

"I want to stay with dad!"

"I don't want to be dead!"

She followed him when he left the hospital, and sat on the couch when he sat on the armchair and stared ahead with wide, red rimmed eyes. He grabbed the phone and dialled, holding it up to his ear and clearing his throat. He called her uncle and told him, in a choked voice, that she was dead. There was stunned silence on the other end before her uncle said he'd fly there the next day. Her dad nodded and hung up before he stood up, standing still for a moment. He turned his head, staring down the hallway before he swallowed and walked down.

His daughter followed him.

He walked to her room and opened the door, looking around before he walked in. He stared at her stuffed animal toys. He reached out and grabbed her cat, one she had when her mother was still alive. His face crumbled before he fell to his knees and started sobbing.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, my baby girl."

Tears filled her eyes once again before she sat beside him and wrapped her arms around her knees, trying to lean against him and whimpering when she found that she couldn't. They both cried for the rest of that day.

He fell asleep on her bed.

She fell asleep beside him.

She stayed during the funeral. It was weird seeing herself in a coffin. Her father tried to stay strong, but being alone, he started crying. Her uncle wrapped an arm around him and hugged him. They were both single, and her uncle said that he would find a place to live, that he would transfer. Her dad said no, he didn't need to. But he did. He found an apartment and went back to move all his things. Her father was at home, alone, sitting on the couch and watching the T.V. with hollow eyes. He could barely go through the day without crying.

She stood beside him, watching as he curled up on the couch and shook as he sobbed.

He fell asleep after crying.

She sat down next to him, staring at him and whispering to him.

"It'll be fine. Uncle will be here to help you. You'll be fine."

She talked to him whenever he would fall asleep, watching as his face would grow more relaxed. Maybe he heard her, maybe he didn't. But she felt comforted when she thought that maybe her words were getting to him.

Her uncle came back, and spent as much time as he could with her father. She stayed. She didn't know how long time had passed, five months? But her uncle brought her father to a bar, both loosening up. She found that she didn't mind. He met someone while he was there. The woman spent a lot of time with her father. They grew close. Had she still been alive she would have hated the woman. Her dad was hers alone. But she knew he needed help. Seven more months passed. His girlfriend had moved in with him.

She didn't make him get rid of her room, but she often went in there and brushed dust off of everything.

She often stayed in her room to watch.

She was nice to clean her room.

Five more month passed.

Her dad proposed.

It was a joyous time.

She smiled faintly when they planned their wedding, hesitating for a moment. She walked towards her dad and knelt beside him, reaching towards him and pretending to rest her hand on his knee. He shivered and moved his leg, but she put her hand back on his knee.

"You're happy again," She murmured, a small smile crossing her face before she looked at the T.V. and felt tears in her eyes. "...you don't need me here anymore." She reached up and rubbed her eyes, giving a wide grin. "I'm gonna go and find something to do. Maybe I'll pass on now."

Her father didn't respond.

Of course he wouldn't.

"I'll miss you," She continued to grin. "I'm sorry how I acted. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Tears spilled over. "I'm sorry...!"

She stood up and walked over to the door, glancing back to stare at the couple and giving a small, sad smile before she walked through the door.

Tears had appeared in her dad's eyes, and he seemed surprised before he wiped them away.

Two months had passed before someone walked up to her.

She had been alone this entire time so she was shocked when he walked to her and smiled. Her eyes grew wide when he walked up in weird clothes and listened when he told her she was a shinigami and that it was her time to pass on. Shinigami? Did he mean a shinigami shinigami? Was this guy crazy? She gave him a weird look, freezing when he pulled out a sword.

Holy crap, he's gonna kill her!

Wait, can she die again?

Before she could run and try calling for help he turned the sword and pointed the scabbard towards her. The end touched her forehead, making her widen her eyes before her eyelids slid shut.

"May you find happiness in Soul Society."

The sun shined brightly, a few birds singing as the sun rose, the sun streaming across the land.

The girl—young woman—scrunched up her face when the sun hit her face and blearily opened her eyes. She stared at the blue sky for a moment, just laying on the hard, cold ground with blank eyes and watched as the clouds rolled by blankly. She blinked a couple times and pushed herself up and looked around. Where was she? Looking down, she grabbed her shirt and looked at it for a second before she glanced around her surroundings. She pushed herself up and stood still for a moment. Where was she?

"Hey you!"

She turned, widening her eyes when someone motioned her to walk towards a line. Blinking, eyes wide, she did as he said and walked towards the group of people. A long line was in front of her, and people were already lining up behind her. Tickets were being handed out, making the woman furrow her brows and frown. It took an hour for her turn to come, and when she walked up they gave her ticket. Frowning, she held it up and stared at it.

Time of death.

July tenth... and the year...

Eight twenty-eight in the morning.

She stared at the ticket with wide eyes, jumping when someone shoved her. She turned and scowled, seeing the big, pudgy man glare at her and point in a direction and said, "Go in that direction for ten days. And then you can do whatever you want."

She stared at him.

Walk for ten days?

"Here," He threw a kimono at her, which made her jump when it hit her face and grabbed it and pulled it down to stare at it. A raggedy blue kimono. "You'll get jumped if people see you wearing that." He pointed at her clothes.

She kept frowning and nodded, walking in the direction she was told to go. She didn't know why she was listening. She found a brush to hide behind and changed, smoothing out her kimono and looking around the area. Her clothes were tucked inside her kimono. She wanted to keep them. She looked down to stare at herself, holding up her arms. Tanned skin kind of clashed with blue. Grabbing a lock of her hair she held it up and stared at the dark locks. She must look ordinary. Nothing that suggested that she was one of a kind. Oh, well. She must be ugly, too. She snorted a laugh and quickly sobered.

Furrowing her eyebrows, she tried remembering what happened before and after her death.

Nothing.

"...My name is Shuya Tamura..." She murmured, closing and rubbing her head. "And my parents are..."

She didn't remember.

Hey-Hey~! :D I'm doing a new story. O.o I know, weird.

Anyway, I find myself loving the time before Aizen went all "I'm betraying you all!" I just don't know what I wanna do, though. ( ;.;)

So I'm gonna ask you all a question! :D

Some years are gonna pass in the next chapter, so Tamura will be a shinigami. \( 'w')/ Yay~! :D But I just wanted to know if I should make it after all the Bleach plot, before, or during? O.o I wanna know, so it will give me a challenge. :D

Anyway, this is different than my other stories.

And WHY?! :D

...There only gonna be one OC that will "fall in love" if you will. QAQ I wanna do three OC's, but as I said, I want something different and challenging... Though I'll quickly change my mind if people want me to do three OC's. XD Just kidding... maybe. X3

I'm sorry if some people were uncomfortable with the past, the drinking, the arguments, but these things do happen in real life. Some things worse than having an alcoholic for a parent. Actually, I'm making myself sad by thinking of those things. XD

But enjoy~! :D

October's my favourite month~! X3 Scary movies and whatnot. :D

Oooh, oohhh! Based on Tamura's personality, which division do you think she would be suited for? :D

October 9, 2014