Abigail Henderson's life had been simple until her sophomore year of high school. Not only is still dealing with the normal scandals of living in a small town in Indiana suddenly the world wasn't as black and white between reality and fantasy. It all started when Will went missing. Nothing in Hawkins has been normal ever since. Abigail is going to have to find a balance between fighting monsters, that should not exist, and her normal life. How will she ever manage to survive this without completely losing herself in the process?
Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction for Bleach. I do not own Bleach or make any profit off this story.
Claimer: Do not post my stories on different platforms or print and bind my story. You can use whatever ideas, characters, ect I create just let me know so I can read it too!
The rain lashed against the roof in an endless, relentless rhythm, a cold reminder of the past. Rangiku sat on the windowsill of the Division 10 office, her breath fogging the glass as she stared at the crooked trails of water running down the pane. Each droplet seemed to drag memories with it, pooling into the heaviness that weighed down her chest. The gray sky outside bled into her thoughts, stirring up the ache she tried so hard to forget.
Behind her, the office was cluttered, the flickering glow of a lantern casting soft, uneven light across the room. A large stack of paperwork lay abandoned on her desk, each page begging for her attention, but she ignored it. The reports, the forms, the endless bureaucracy of being a lieutenant—all of it felt distant, unimportant. Today, it was just too hard to focus on any of that.
Kimiko loved the rain. The memory of the girl’s laughter echoed in her mind, unbidden but constant. She could almost see Kimiko now—small, dark-haired, dancing through the streets with outstretched arms, her face upturned to the sky, as if each raindrop carried a secret just for her. The rain never made her hide away like it did everyone else. Kimiko always saw the beauty in things most would overlook. Just like she had seen the beauty in people most had given up on.
Rangiku absently ran her thumb over the small, makeshift bracelet on her wrist—the one Kimiko had given her on her ‘birthday,’ made from discarded bits of trash the girl had carefully strung together. The bracelet felt fragile, as though it could fall apart at any moment, much like the memories it represented. But still, Rangiku wore it. She had never taken it off, not once in all these years.
Where are you now? she wondered, her chest tightening with an old, familiar ache. Do you still love the rain, wherever you are?
The steady drip of water slipping from the roof outside mingled with the soft shuffle of papers being tossed aside—an absent gesture. Her gaze flickered toward the desk, where the neglected forms sat in a messy heap, but her focus drifted back to the rain almost immediately.
She wished she could believe what Gin had told her, that Kimiko had just run off and disappeared, nothing more. That someone had found her, taken care of her, and that she was safe. But deep down, Rangiku had never been able to shake the feeling that something else had happened. No matter how much time passed, that nagging uncertainty lingered, gnawing at her heart.
The rain hit harder against the window, and she pressed her forehead to the cool glass, eyes closing. She had tried to find Kimiko once. She had searched the streets, questioned people, but it had been as though the girl had vanished into thin air. No one had seen her. It was as if District 80 had swallowed her whole, leaving no trace.
Gin wouldn’t lie to me. The thought ran through her head again, but it felt hollow. Gin was always a mystery, always distant, but there were lines even he wouldn’t cross. Or so she wanted to believe.
Her fingers tightened around the bracelet, the cool metal biting into her skin. Kimiko had been more than just a girl they took in. She had been a light, something pure in a world filled with shadows. Her presence had brought a kind of warmth that even Gin couldn’t deny. And Rangiku had loved her—loved her like a sister, like something more fragile than life itself.
But what are the chances she made it out on her own? A bitter voice in the back of her mind whispered. She was just a little girl.
The thought settled in her chest like a stone. The rain outside blurred into a curtain of gray, and for a moment, Rangiku wondered if she would ever stop hoping. Would there come a day when she could let go of Kimiko’s memory, let go of the hope that somewhere out there, the girl was alive, happy, and safe? She wasn’t sure. The bracelet around her wrist, light as it was, felt like a tether, binding her to a past she couldn’t forget.
With a sigh, she leaned back from the window, brushing away a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. Her heart felt heavy, weighed down by the unspoken questions that always lingered, that would likely never be answered. But she couldn’t bring herself to let go. Not yet.
The paperwork on the desk lay untouched, the pile leaning precariously as if to mock her avoidance, but Rangiku just turned her gaze back to the window. The rain was still falling, as relentless as her thoughts.
Outside, hidden in the shadows of the Division 10 rooftop, Gin continued watching. The sight of Rangiku sitting alone, holding that fragile bracelet, tugged at something deep within him. He didn’t let his mind dwell on it for long, but no matter how far he pushed it down, that day—the day—still clung to him like a shadow.
The rain always brought it back.
Gin moved quietly across the rooftop, his silver hair plastered to his head by the downpour, but his steps made no sound. He stayed just outside the window’s view, not ready to reveal himself, but unwilling to leave. Through the rain-streaked glass, he could see her more clearly now, still holding that bracelet.
That bracelet had always been a reminder, a tether to the bright little girl who had once adored him—Kimiko. He hadn’t thought about her in a long time, not deeply. He didn’t let himself.
There was no reason to.
For a while, he had felt the faint pulse of Kimiko’s reiryoku from time to time, like a whisper carried on the breeze. But over the years, that connection had faded. She hadn’t joined the Academy—of that, he was certain. If she had, he would have known.
He would have made sure she never passed the entrance exam.
It was a cruelty he had been prepared to commit. If Kimiko had ever tried to become a Shinigami, he would have intervened, made sure she never made it in. It would have crushed her, but it was for her own good. The Academy wasn’t a place for someone like her, not with Aizen watching from the shadows. If Aizen had ever learned of her existence, of the power she held—he wouldn’t have hesitated to use her. Or worse, destroy her.
No, Gin had kept her out of that world on purpose, even if she never knew it. It was better this way. He had no reason to believe anything bad had happened to her. She was likely living an ordinary life somewhere, far from the dangers that lurked in the shadows.
The rain intensified, blurring the lines of Rangiku’s figure through the window, but Gin stayed where he was, watching as she held that fragile bracelet.
She still can’t let go.
A small flicker of something stirred within him, but Gin quickly pushed it aside. There was no room for it. He had his own path to follow, one that didn’t include memories of a bright little girl or the soft sadness in Rangiku’s eyes.
That day—the day everything changed—still clung to him like a shadow, always surfacing when the rain fell like this. He couldn’t forget it, no matter how hard he tried.
Gin remained on the rooftop, rain streaming down his face, his heart heavy with the weight of the memory. His eyes never left Rangiku, but his thoughts drifted, drawn back to the day when Kimiko’s fate had been sealed.
It had been raining that day too…
Gin had been on his way back, slipping through the woods after one of his usual long disappearances. The rain had just started to fall, soaking the ground, turning it into a wet, muddy mess. The moment he heard the distant shouts of the village children—screaming about a Hollow—his heart clenched.
Without thinking, he broke into a run, the forest blurring around him as he weaved between the trees. Kimiko. His mind fixated on her, wondering where she could be. The fear gnawed at him. If she had been caught by the Hollow...
The voices of the children were gone now, replaced by the steady drum of rain hitting the leaves. Gin pushed through the underbrush, branches whipping at his face, his breath catching as he neared a familiar clearing. And there, in the middle of the woods, stood Kimiko.
The forest was eerily quiet, save for the rain gently falling through the canopy above. The other children had long since fled, disappearing into the safety of the village, their screams still echoing faintly in the distance. But not Kimiko.
The forest stood unnervingly still, as though the very trees held their breath. Only the soft patter of rain slipping through the canopy broke the silence. The children’s screams had long since faded, carried off by the wind, but Kimiko remained. She stood alone, a solitary figure drenched in the downpour, her dark hair plastered to her face, her eyes wide and unblinking as they met the Hollow’s monstrous gaze. The air between them buzzed with energy, thick and oppressive, but Kimiko didn’t flinch. Her small figure was disturbingly calm, like she was a part of the rain—untouchable and steady.
But Kimiko didn’t run. She didn’t even flinch. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her expression calm, almost as though she were trying to understand it.
“You’re angry,” Kimiko said softly, her voice cutting through the heavy air like a whisper. She took a slow step forward, her eyes never leaving the Hollow’s.
The Hollow paused. It hadn’t expected this. Its rage faltered, confusion flashing in its eyes. Hollows fed on fear, on the terror of their prey. But this small girl showed none of that. There was no fear in her gaze, only... empathy.
“And sad,” she added, her voice even softer now, as though she were speaking to a wounded creature. “You’re sad.”
The Hollow growled, shifting uneasily, its grotesque claws twitching. It could crush her in an instant, yet something about the way she looked at it—like she could see past its monstrous form—held it back.
“It’s okay,” Kimiko whispered, taking another step forward. Her small hand slowly lifted, reaching out toward the Hollow’s face. “You don’t have to be angry anymore. It’s time to be free.”
Her hand made contact with the creature’s face, a soft glow emanating from her fingertips. The Hollow’s snarl faded, its massive body freezing in place. For a moment, the air around them seemed to still, and then, slowly, the Hollow began to dissolve, its dark, twisted form evaporating into the rain.
Kimiko watched silently as the last traces of the creature faded into nothing, her expression unchanging.
“Be free now,” she whispered to the empty space where the Hollow had stood.
The forest was eerily quiet, save for the rain gently falling through the canopy above. The other children had long since fled, disappearing into the safety of the village, their screams still echoing faintly in the distance. But not Kimiko.
Gin burst into the clearing just as the last remnants of the Hollow dissolved into the air, but its presence remained—a suffocating, unnatural heaviness clung to the clearing. Even without a trace of the creature left, the air buzzed with residual energy, like the ghost of the Hollow was still lurking just beneath the surface. Gin’s eyes narrowed as he took in the scene—no Hollow, just Kimiko, drenched by the rain, standing unnervingly still.
His heart slammed against his ribs, his breath catching in his throat. He stood there, staring at her, struggling to process what he was seeing. The air was thick with the unmistakable, suffocating presence of a Hollow. It reeked of it. There had been one here, he could feel it deep in his bones. The children’s screams had confirmed it.
But now... nothing. No trace. Nothing left but Kimiko.
“What the hell...” he muttered under his breath, disbelief flashing in his narrowed eyes.
Gin stormed across the clearing, the mud splashing beneath his feet, each step fueled by a rising tide of frustration. He reached her in an instant, his hand shooting out to seize the thin fabric of her soaked kimono, the roughness of his grip betraying the panic still gripping his heart. His fingers dug into her shoulder, the damp cloth clinging to her skin, but Kimiko didn’t react—she stood there, blank-eyed, as if his anger were just another drop of rain falling around her
“What were you thinking?” he snapped, his voice cold, almost a growl. “Do you have any idea what that thing could’ve done to you?”
Kimiko turned her head slowly, her green eyes locking onto his, calm and blank as ever. She seemed almost confused by his anger, as though she couldn’t understand why he was upset.
“Hollow,” she murmured softly, repeating the word with the same detached curiosity she had used with the creature.
Gin’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on her kimono. “Yes, a Hollow! And you could’ve been killed! Why didn’t you run? You just stood there like a damn fool!”
Kimiko stared up at him, unblinking. “It was sad,” she said again, her voice quieter now. “I helped it.”
Gin’s frown deepened, his mind racing. He couldn’t understand what she was saying. It didn’t make sense. He glanced around the clearing, searching for any sign of the Hollow, but there was nothing left. No trace that it had ever existed.
His frustration boiled over. “Stop talking nonsense,” he muttered, his voice colder than before. “Let’s go.”
Without waiting for her response, he yanked her forward, dragging her out of the clearing and back toward the village. The rain continued to pour down, soaking them both as they pushed through the underbrush. Kimiko didn’t resist. She didn’t say anything. She just followed silently, her small form limp in his grip.
But Gin couldn’t shake the feeling, the strange sensation that had clung to the clearing. The air had been heavy with the Hollow’s energy—too heavy for it to simply vanish. Yet, there was no Hollow. Just Kimiko. Standing there, calm and unmoved. It unsettled him, more than he wanted to admit.
There’s something wrong with her... something dangerous.
His grip on her shoulder tightened.
I know she did something, but what did she do? She was going to attract attention…and I cannot let that be.
His jaw clenched; his thoughts darker now.
Either I have to get her believe she’s weak or she will get the attention of…him.
The rain had finally slowed to a drizzle by the time they reached the small shack. The quiet pitter-patter on the roof was the only sound, save for the creaking of the old wooden beams. The moment they stepped inside, Rangiku was waiting for them, her expression tense, her eyes wide with worry.
“Kimiko!” Rangiku rushed over to the girl, immediately kneeling to her level, running her hands over Kimiko’s damp clothes, checking for any sign of injury. “What happened? Where were you? I’ve been worried sick.”
Kimiko blinked up at her with wide, innocent eyes, her small hands reaching out to pat Rangiku on the shoulder. “I’m okay,” she said softly, her voice light and cheerful, as though the entire ordeal in the forest hadn’t happened. “I was just playing.”
Rangiku frowned, not convinced. Her eyes darted up to Gin, standing a few steps behind, his face unreadable as usual. “Playing?” she echoed. “What kind of playing takes you into the woods during a storm?”
Kimiko smiled sweetly, as if to reassure her, and her voice dropped into a soft mimicry of Rangiku’s own concern. “I’m fine, Rangiku,” she said. “Really. I was just playing.”
Gin snorted from the corner of the room, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. “Yeah, playing at trying to find a way to unalive herself,” he said dryly, rolling his eyes. “That’s what she’s calling it these days.”
Rangiku shot Gin a glare but then turned back to Kimiko, brushing the girl’s soaked hair out of her face. “You scared me,” she said softly, her worry still palpable. “Please don’t do that again, alright?”
Kimiko nodded, her face brightening with a wide grin. “I won’t! I promise!” she chirped, her mood completely shifting. She practically skipped over to the small table, as if the tension from the forest had never existed. “I’m hungry! What’s for dinner?”
Rangiku let out a small sigh of relief, watching Kimiko with a soft smile as the girl went back to acting like a normal child. “We’ll find something for you, don’t worry,” she said, standing up slowly. “Go dry off first, okay?”
Kimiko nodded and dashed to the corner of the room, grabbing a towel, her cheerful hum filling the space.
Rangiku handed Kimiko a small rice ball, the edges slightly hard from sitting out too long. It wasn’t much, but it was all they had. Kimiko didn’t complain, just smiled softly, accepting it as though it were a feast.
“It’s a little stale, but I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Rangiku murmured with a half-hearted smile, her voice betraying a hint of guilt.
Kimiko took a bite without hesitation, her face calm, unmoved by the bland taste or the dryness of the rice. She never seemed to mind.
Gin watched the scene unfold from the shadows, his sharp eyes fixed on Kimiko. She was acting like a completely different person. She had gone from that eerie, emotionless state in the forest to this... cheerful, bubbly little girl in the span of a few minutes.
It was as if she was clay, molding herself into what others wanted her to be, shifting effortlessly to fit their expectations.
It didn’t make sense.
How could she flip so easily between the two?
His narrowed eyes followed Kimiko as she dried herself off, humming a soft tune, talking to Rangiku with the bright energy of a normal child. She wasn’t just acting innocent—she was reflecting Rangiku’s worry and turning it into cheer. Gin’s eyes darkened. The shift unnerved him, made his stomach twist in ways he couldn’t explain.
Everything about her was different tonight. Though, she bounced around like normal as if nothing strange had happened. It felt off…wrong even. Something in her has changed. It wasn’t normal. Gin’s lips thinned into a tight line, his mind racing. She was powerful. More powerful than any of them knew. Yet something felt so familiar about it all, but he could not place it.
If he found out.
Gin lay stiff on the futon, the thin blanket doing nothing to shield him from the cold creeping through the cracks of the shack. The ceiling above him blurred in the shadows, but his eyes remained wide open, the events of the day playing over and over like a haunting melody. His unease coiled tight in his gut, a slow burn of dread and guilt that he couldn’t shake. Outside, the rain whispered against the roof, a steady reminder of the weight pressing down on his chest.
Kimiko lay on her own futon beside Rangiku, fast asleep. She had fallen asleep quickly, like a child who had no worries, no weight on her small shoulders. He had scolded her earlier, but it seemed like it had rolled right off her back.
I helped it.
Her words echoed in his head, that strange, innocent way she had spoken about the Hollow. It was unsettling how easily she dismissed the danger, talking about the Hollow as if it were just like them. It didn’t make sense. He knew there had been a Hollow, he could sense it’s residual energy, but she was standing there alone looking completely calm. He knew deep down she had somehow defeated a Hollow without even a sword. That should be impossible. And if she truly did do that, it was only a matter of time that kind of power would get attention of the shingami.
And then, despite himself, Gin felt a light shift on the floor next to him.
Kimiko, even after the scolding and his coldness toward her, had rolled over in her sleep. Her small body nestled close to his side, seeking warmth, her tiny hand gripping his arm as though she were looking for comfort in the middle of the cold, windy night.
Gin’s entire body stiffened.
He didn’t move. He couldn’t. The weight of her small presence beside him pressed against his chest like a boulder. For a brief moment, the innocent gesture warmed him beyond a physical warmth.
She trusted him. Looked up to him, even now, after everything.
And it only made things worse.
But something about the way her face relaxed, soft and innocent in the dim light, tugged at the edges of his mind. His gaze drifted over her sleeping form, and for the first time, he noticed it. Her wild black hair, the familiar curve of her cheek, the way her hair fell across her forehead—so much like...
Mother.
It was startling how much she looked like her, in the quiet moments like this. There had been a time, long ago, when their mother’s presence had been a source of warmth, too—before the cruelty of their world had taken that away. The memory flickered through him like a candle flame, fleeting and dangerous.
But as hard as he tried, he couldn’t stop his mind from drifting back to his last memory of their parents.
He remembered the sound of his mother’s voice, the softness of her face, and how her electric blue reiatsu flared wildly around her, like snapping tails of light in the night. It had always been too strong, too wild, the kind of power that drew unwanted attention. They had been running for days by then—he, his mother, his father, and the infant Kimiko—pursued by men who had smelled that power on her and on Kimiko.
He remembered his father turning back to face their pursuers, sword in hand, the only barrier between them and the ones closing in. He’d been too young to fully understand what was happening, but he could still hear the sound of swords clashing in the distance, the muffled grunts and shouts behind them. His mother had kept running, holding Kimiko tightly to her chest, the baby's cries mingling with the pounding rain.
“You have to take care of her, Gin,” his mother had said, breathless and panicked as they fled through the thick forest. He could still feel the desperate grip of her hand on his shoulder, the way her voice had wavered, as though she knew it would be the last thing she’d ask of him. “Promise me you'll protect her.”
But even in that moment, her reiatsu had swirled around them like a storm, flaring up in flashes of blue light as if to shield them. He had seen her eyes glow, the green fading beneath the fierce energy she struggled to control.
He had promised her. Of course, he had promised. How could he not?
But now, years later, as laid awake haunted by his thoughts, Gin wondered if that promise had been a mistake. Protecting Kimiko had been all he ever wanted to do. But what if staying with him was what would put her in danger? What if she had inherited more than just her mother’s power—what if she had inherited the same fate?
Gin’s jaw clenched. He didn’t want to think about it, but the memory of that night lingered, refusing to fade. The sound of running footsteps still echoed in his mind, getting closer and closer. His father’s final stand was lost somewhere in the fog of his memory, but the desperation in his mother’s voice still lingered, like the last words of a dying wish.
And now, Kimiko’s power was growing. It had been dormant for so long, but Gin had felt it. She was different, more dangerous than any of them had realized. He did not know what happened, but something happened with that Hollow—something not normal. She wasn’t normal.
I promised to protect her, Gin thought bitterly, his heart heavy with the weight of that vow. But what if protecting her means letting her go?
The memory of his mother’s glowing eyes flashed before him again, her reiatsu whipping through the air, wild and uncontainable, like a force of nature. She had been strong—so much stronger than he had ever believed she could be. And Kimiko... Kimiko was just like her.
Maybe even stronger.
The resemblance stirred something deep within him, an affection he had long since buried. For a moment, the icy walls around his heart began to crack, letting in a warmth he didn’t expect.
But it was dangerous to feel this.
The sudden wave of protectiveness that surged through him was too much. Too risky. Gin clenched his jaw, forcing the emotions back down before they could take hold. It would be best for both of them if she wasn’t around and he had no idea where she was. He had made a promise to protect her. He had his own path and if she remained, she’d only get hurt or get in the way. She was an attachment that was a weakness. And he couldn’t afford that—not with her, not with anyone.
Gin knew what had to be done. He will find you. He will use you to hurt me or hurt you just because of your power. I cannot allow that to happen. You cannot stay. Not with us. There was a tightness growing in his chest. He didn’t want it, but it was the only way to protect her.
Gin’s hand tightened into a fist, the chill of reality seeping back into his bones, hardening his resolve.
I have to make her disappear.
She couldn’t stay. She was a weakness, and if he didn’t act now, she’d ruin everything.
The first light of dawn was beginning to creep over the horizon, casting a pale, gray glow over District 80. The streets were still and empty, with only the occasional scurry of small animals breaking the silence. The air was thick with the dampness of the early morning mist, clinging to every surface.
As they stepped out of the small shack, Kimiko paused at the door, turning back toward Rangiku. Her small figure was framed by the soft light of the fading night, her dark hair clinging to her face from the lingering dampness of the rain. She gave a slight bow, her hands clasped neatly in front of her—a quiet, instinctual gesture of respect, as natural to her as breathing.
“Bye, onēchan,” she said softly, her voice steady but warm. The word slipped from her lips effortlessly, as if it belonged. Yet, it carried a weight that made Rangiku’s heart tighten.
Rangiku smiled, though the sadness behind it was unmistakable. She watched as Gin took Kimiko’s hand, leading her toward the misty morning. “Take care,” she whispered, though her words were lost in the growing distance between them. Kimiko was already gone, her small form blending into the quiet, gray world outside.
Gin moved silently, his footsteps muffled by the fog that clung to the streets. Beside him, Kimiko followed without a word, her small hand gripping his, trusting him as only a child could. She never questioned him, never asked where they were going. She simply followed.
Gin’s jaw tightened as he glanced down at her. The weight of her trust felt heavier than the silence that hung between them. His chest felt tight, as if something was winding itself around his ribs, squeezing tighter with each step. He knew this had to be done, but it didn’t make it any easier.
They walked until the outskirts of the district came into view, where the narrow streets gave way to dirt paths, and the buildings thinned into open fields. The trees were still heavy with the lingering mist, and the ground beneath them was muddy from the night’s rain. Kimiko’s pace never faltered, her bright green eyes looking straight ahead, completely unaware of what was coming.
You can’t stay here, Gin thought grimly, his face hardening into a cold mask. You can’t stay with me.
Ahead, a small cart waited at the edge of the forest, its driver leaning nervously against the side. The smuggler—a man Gin had paid well—kept his eyes darting between the shadows, as if he feared something would emerge at any moment.
Gin slowed his steps, stopping just before they reached the cart. Kimiko turned to look up at him, her expression soft and curious. “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice filled with innocent wonder, completely devoid of suspicion.
Gin crouched down to her level, his face unreadable. Inside, though, a storm raged. “We’re going on a trip,” he said, his voice steady, though it felt hollow in his ears.
Kimiko’s face lit up, her smile as bright as ever. “A trip? With you?” There was hope in her voice, a hope that tugged at something deep inside him.
Gin’s eyes flickered, betraying him for just a moment. Then, with a slow nod, he answered, “Yeah. With me.”
But as soon as the words left his lips, his hand moved—softly, gently—resting on her small shoulder. His fingers tightened just slightly, and before she could react, he muttered the Kido incantation under his breath.
A faint glow surrounded his fingertips, and Kimiko’s eyes fluttered closed, her small body going limp in his arms. She didn’t feel a thing.
For a moment, Gin held her there, his heart heavy with the weight of what he had done. The child who had trusted him so completely now slept peacefully in his arms, unaware of the truth. The trust she had placed in him—it felt like a betrayal.
It’s for her own good, he told himself, trying to steady the coldness that was rising in his chest. She’s safer this way. Safer without me.
Standing, Gin lifted her easily into his arms and carried her toward the cart. The smuggler watched with uneasy eyes, flicking nervously between Gin and the unconscious girl. There was something off about her, and even though he didn’t know who she was, he could sense the danger she posed.
Gin laid Kimiko down gently in the back of the cart, wrapping her in a blanket to protect her from the cold morning air. She looked so small there, so peaceful, like nothing in the world could harm her.
But Gin knew better.
Turning to the smuggler, Gin’s voice dropped into a low, cold threat. “Get her to District 1 like we agreed,” he said, his tone sharp. “If she’s hurt... or worse...”
The smuggler swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Gin’s reiatsu press down on him like a heavy shroud. “I—I get it,” he stammered, nodding quickly. “Don’t worry, I’ll get her there. No trouble.”
Gin’s gaze stayed locked on the man, the oppressive weight of his spiritual energy lingering in the air. “Good,” he muttered after a moment. “Now go.”
The smuggler scrambled to the front of the cart, his hands trembling as he took the reins. The horse neighed softly as the cart began to move, slowly at first, the wheels creaking against the muddy ground.
Kimiko didn’t stir.
Gin stood there, his eyes following the cart until it disappeared into the mist, the sound of the wheels fading into the distance. Only when it was completely out of sight did he allow himself to breathe.
He told himself this was for the best. She would be safe now, far away from District 80, far away from the dangers that lurked there. Far away from people like him.
But as he turned and started the long walk back to the village, the weight in his chest didn’t lift. Instead, it pressed down harder, settling deep in his bones.
-----
The rain fell in a soft, steady drizzle, barely making a sound as it dripped from the edges of the tiled roof of Division 10’s office. Gin sat perched on the rooftop, his silver hair plastered to his head by the dampness, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. His sharp eyes were fixed on the window below, where the soft glow of candlelight illuminated Rangiku, sitting alone at her desk.
From his vantage point, Gin could see her clearly—leaning forward slightly, her fingers tracing the edge of a small bracelet. The same makeshift bracelet that Kimiko had given her so long ago.
Even now, after all this time, Rangiku still held onto it. She never let it go. Gin’s gaze narrowed as he watched her, the rain soaking through his clothes, the cold seeping into his skin. He had seen Rangiku handle that bracelet a thousand times, yet every time, it sparked the same small twinge of discomfort in his chest.
She still cared. She still hoped.
Even though they both knew exactly where the other was—Gin as the captain of the 3rd Division and Rangiku here, in Division 10—there was always a distance between them. Not a physical distance, but something far colder, far more painful. And despite his continued coldness, despite his attempts to push her away, she still hadn’t let go.
I’m sorry, Rangiku.
The thought echoed in his mind, not because he was truly sorry, but because he knew that Rangiku deserved more than he could give. He had seen how much she cared for Kimiko, how deeply the girl had embedded herself in their lives. But no matter how much Rangiku cared, Gin knew she could never know the truth.
What if I told her, though? The question slipped into his mind, sharp and deliberate.
What if he told Rangiku the truth about Kimiko? What if he revealed the real reason she had disappeared all those years ago? Would that finally be enough to make her let go? Would that finally make her stop clinging to the hope that he was something more than what he appeared to be?
Gin’s eyes darkened as he watched Rangiku hold the bracelet, her expression soft, lost in thought. He knew what she was thinking—she was wondering about Kimiko, hoping that the little girl had somehow survived, somehow made it to a better place. But Gin had long since given up on such thoughts.
If I told her the truth, would she hate me for it?
The thought gnawed at him, lingering in the back of his mind. If he told her that he was the one who made Kimiko disappear, that he had erased the girl from their lives to protect her... would that finally sever the bond that kept Rangiku tied to him?
Or would she still care?
That was the worst part of it. Gin wasn’t sure. After everything he had done—after all the ways he had kept himself distant, cold—Rangiku still cared. She still looked at him with that infuriating loyalty in her eyes, still hoped for something more. And even now, after all the coldness he had shown her, she continued to reach for him.
What if telling her the truth doesn’t change anything?
His lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. The idea that even the truth might not be enough to push her away was almost laughable. Would Rangiku still hold on, even after knowing that he had taken Kimiko from her? Would she still chase after him, still care for him, even after that?
Gin couldn’t afford that kind of attachment. He had learned long ago that loyalty was a weakness—something that could be used against you. And Aizen was always watching, always waiting for any sign of vulnerability.
The rain dripped steadily from the edge of the roof, a soft tapping sound that seemed to blend with the rhythm of his thoughts. Gin’s eyes flicked back to Rangiku, who was now staring down at the bracelet in her hands, her expression filled with quiet sorrow.
Maybe one day...
Maybe one day, when the time was right, he would tell her. He would reveal the truth about Kimiko and watch to see if it would finally break the hold Rangiku had on him. Maybe it would finally make her give up on him, make her walk away for good.
Or maybe she’d forgive me...
But even that possibility wasn’t comforting. Because if Rangiku forgave him for taking Kimiko, for everything he had done, it would only make her more vulnerable. And Gin couldn’t afford that—not with Aizen waiting, watching, calculating.
Gin’s thoughts drifted back to Kimiko, the little girl who had vanished from their lives all those years ago. He had sent her away, smuggled her out of District 80 to ensure she stayed far away from the dangers of their world. He didn’t know exactly where she was, but he had searched. He had searched through the lower districts, looking for some trace of her.
I never found you in any of the districts I searched, Gin thought, his eyes narrowing slightly. That means you must have made it to District 1.
Sometimes, when the wind was just right, Gin thought he could feel her reiryoku—a faint pulse, like a whisper carried on the breeze. It was never strong enough to be sure, but it gave him a small sliver of reassurance.
As long as Aizen never found you... I’m okay not knowing.
That thought had kept him steady all these years. The idea that Kimiko was out there somewhere, safe from Aizen’s grasp, had been enough. He didn’t need to know exactly where she was. Just knowing that she was far from their world was enough.
But seeing Rangiku now, sitting alone, holding that bracelet as if it could bring Kimiko back, made the guilt twist in his chest.
I’m sorry, Rangiku. You’ll never know the truth. Not because I’m protecting you... but because it’s better if you give up.
Gin shifted on the rooftop, his body stiff from the cold rain. He glanced one last time at Rangiku, watching her as she sat quietly, lost in memories that would never come back. One day, he might tell her. But it wouldn’t be out of guilt. It would be to finally push her away.
To make her stop caring.
He stood slowly, the rain falling harder now, drenching him as he turned to leave. He had already done enough damage. The truth would only make things worse.
Kimiko is safe. That’s all that matters.
Without another glance, Gin disappeared into the mist, vanishing as silently as he had come.
now that the hunger games is once again getting popular, it’s all over my fyp on tiktok.
i literally hate the “we’re the capitol” and “suzanne only writes when she has something to say” and “we shouldn’t be getting another hunger games book” blah blah blah
just shut up and enjoy the series. my god. you’re not “part of the capitol” for wanting another BOOK in a POPULAR book series. it’s the hunger games. it’s a fascinating dystopian society. you’re allowed to be curious on how it works. and other POV’s of how other characters perceive it and their personal experiences.
and the suzanne thing is fucking stupid too. she’s allowed to write regardless of “having something to say”. that’s not required. she can have ideas later on down the line and add onto her series. esp now that her original audience has gotten older and matured enough to see the real horror that’s IN that original dystopian trilogy. we can now handle other perspectives like Coriolanus, and enjoy the way he thinks without boiling it all down to “i hate him because he’s the obviously the bad guy”
i feel like people need to enjoy things and stop being so english teacher mode. relax.
also PS. this is not to say that you can’t read into things but you have to remember it’s not that serious. it’s REALLY not that serious.
Part of maturing is understanding there is a lot more meaning to a lot of series we enjoyed when we were younger. Author's have a right to continue a story whenever they want even if they say it's finished, it's their story. I can also understand why people see a lot of parallels with current events and dystopian novels as our lives can feel rather dystopian in recent years. However, you don't want to minimize from the horror of this kind of series. The capitol literally puts a bunch of kids for war crimes their ancestors did in a pit to fight for the death. Thankfully we are not at this level of inhumanity yet.
Abigail looked over at her alarm clock. 8:45pm. She got up out of bed abandoning her chemistry notes scattered across the room. She winced as she pulled out another curler that had more of her light brown hair stuck in it. She scrunched up her nose tossing the last roller on the floor. She pulled out the Seventeen magazine from her nightstand. “Yeah, right, sure. Put rollers in your hair to tame your curls. More like pulling out your hair.”
She grabbed the Seventeen magazine from her bed and put it under her arm. “I may as well just throw out this piece of shit. Clearly, they don’t know shit about curly hair.” She got up popping out her newest cassette She’s So Unusual by Cyndi Lauper out of the cassette player of her boombox and popped it back into its own box.
“Yo, Dustin, have you taken a shower yet? We have school tomorrow,” called out Abigail knocking on Dustin’s door. It was eerily quiet on the other side of the door. “I’m coming in, you better be dressed.” She pushed open the door. The bed was still made and dark.
“Fuck. Mom’s going to kill me,” Abigail slammed the door shut.
She walked down the hallway to the living room. Then ran a hand through her brown curls before walking back to her room digging out a box from her closet finding a radio. She flipped it, turning the knob until she reached the frequency the Party always used.
Abigail held down the talk button. “Archer to Bard. You better get your ass home before I find you.” She watched the numbers switch several more times before she picked up the walkie talkie again.
Abigail pressed the talk button again. “Alright, enough bullshit. Dustin, you better answer me right now.”
Nothing. Abigail sighed, tossing the walkie talkie on the bed. She took a deep long breath. “I swear. Soon as mom and I allow you to stay out later on your own you start with this bullshit. Oh, I’m not a baby anymore. Pfft. I swear to God if I have to drive to the Wheelers and drag his ass home, I’m going to strangle him.” She rambled to herself as she walked down the hallway passing the sofa briskly.
Abigail shrieked as Mews leapt out from under the sofa hissing swatted at her ankle before bolting down the hallway bouncing off the walls towards her mother’s room. Abigail grabbed her ankle where Mews had managed to scratch. “Fuck you too Mews!”
Just as she got the phone and started to dial the Wheelers number the door banged against the wall. Abigail slammed the phone back down and stalked into leaving you. She crossed her arms glaring at her brother. Dustin shrunk slightly in his sister's glare.
“Dustin Clarence Henderson. Do you know what fucking time it is? I went to tell you to take a shower to find an empty bed!” shouted Abigail. “Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack at sixteen?!”
Dustin put his hands up in the air. “Sorry, we were playing a campaign. That curfew is totally lame. It’s so not far you get to stay out until 10pm.You aren’t going to tell mom, right?” he asked pausing for a second giving his sister the best puppy dog eyes he could muster “After all, I did you a solid when you snuck out to that party, I never told mom.”
“Don’t start blackmailing me and stop with those puppy dog eyes,” Abigail frowned, taking a deep breath. “Fine, I won’t tell. But seriously Dusty, you nearly gave me a heart attack when I looked in your room to realize you weren’t there. You promise to radio me if you are late.”
“I’m not a baby anymore. You and mom worry too much,” Dustin said but after seeing Abigail’s eyes looked even a bit teary, he looked down at his feet. “I know, I promise. I’m sorry. It was just a really cool campaign.”
Abigail sighed walking over ruffling Dustin’s hair. “It’s okay bud. There’s some truth to what you are saying. You aren’t a baby, but you aren’t sixteen either. Mom lets me stay out late because I can drive now. When you can drive, if you aren’t stupid, I’m sure you will stay out late too. Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll make some hot chocolate and you can tell me all about it before bed. You ate, right?”
“Yeah, we had pizza.” Dustin replied.
“I won’t heat anything up then. Go shower or I’ll drink all the hot chocolate.”
Abigail went to the kitchen boiling a kettle of water and pulling out two mugs then the hot cocoa mix. While she looked out the window overlooking the backyard into the forest a chill ran from her spine all the way to her neck causing her to rub her arms as she got goosebumps. She went over and checked the lock on the back door just to be safe. Of course, it was locked. She couldn’t help but chew on the inside of her lip furrowing her eyebrow slightly, seeing some movement in the pushes.
“Abby, the kettle,” said Dustin, still shaking water out of his curls with a towel.
Abby ran over and turned off the stove. She yelped after grabbing the kettle handle without grabbing the oven mitt. “Fuck!”
“That was stupid. Even I know not to grab a hot kettle without a mitt.” Dustin still went over concerned, taking a glance at Abby's hand. It was only slightly red.
“Not that smartest choice I’ve made,” Abby rolled her eyes grabbing the mitt this time before pouring the water into the mugs.
After settling on the sofa Dustin began to recount the entire campaign with dramatic expressions. Abby just smiled listening to him ramble on about the campaign.
“Right at the end Mrs. Wheeler yelled down for us to go home. The dice flew across the room. Will, Lucas and I were crawling all over the room looking for the dice. Finally, Will found it. He rolled a 7, which would have been bad if Mike saw, but thankfully he didn’t otherwise the demogorgon would have killed him. The party is so fucked without Will.”
“It sounds like a great game,” Abby said with a smile “but it’s ten and we both have school tomorrow and if mom gets home before we are in bed, she might be worse than a demogorgon.”
“Hey, Abby…” Dustin said as Abby collected the mugs and started to turn off the lights.
“Yeah.”
“Why don’t you play anymore?” Dustin looked over at Abby with pleading eyes.
“Well, if you ever needed my character for a special campaign maybe I would come for one, but just one. It can’t be during soccer season or a play or during exams,” sighed Abby. “I’m just busy now that I’m in high school.” She paused for a moment, smirking. “And who said I didn’t play anymore? Maybe I just found some better players.”
“Hey!” Dustin put a hand on my heart. “You wound me dearly milady.”
Abby rolled her eyes as she flipped on the house light before turning off the lamp in the living room. “Now get to bed.”
“Wait, are you serious? Who do you play with?” asked Dustin as Abby darted down the hallway. “Hey! Don’t run away from me! Who stole our elf archer?”
Abby slammed her door shut and locked it. Dustin banged on the door. “I ain’t tellin’ ya nothin’. Go to bed!”
Abby shoved her notes into a pile and put them on her nightstand. She waited until the banging stopped before unlocking the door. She turned off the big light leaving only her lamp. She reached into her nightstand pulling out Jane Eyre. She had a bookshelf, but she refused to leave the book out for her mother to see because the last time she caught her reading P. S. I Love You next thing she knew her mother recommended romance books. Halfway though chapter two she was completely mortified by what her mother read.
When her door creaked open, she looked at her clock seeing it was 10:55. She tensed expecting to see her mother but instead Dustin peered inside.
“Dusty, seriously, you are really trying to give me a heart attack tonight,” Abby sighed, putting her book away.
“Can I sleep in here? Please?” Dustin asked using his best puppy-dog expression.
Abby rolled her eyes. “Just get in here before mom gets home.”
Dustin closed the door quietly. “She’s already home. Fell asleep watching TV.” Then he bounced on the bed making Abby laugh when she nearly fell off the bed.
“She worked two shifts…” Abby mumbled, biting the inside of her lip before looking at Dustin with gentleness.
“You haven’t asked to come into my room for a while. Why tonight?” She prodded gently.
“Couldn’t sleep. Could you maybe…tell me a story about dad again?” Dustin asked sweetly with a hopeful gleam in his eyes.
Abby felt her stomach drop a little bit but smiled at Dustin. “Sure, just one, because it’s late. Which one do you want me to tell?”
“Do you have any you haven’t told me?” Dustin asked warily.
“Dustin…I’ve told you like twenty times I won’t tell that story until your 13th birthday. You’re still too young for that one,” Abby frowned sharply.
“I wasn’t going to ask about that! I swear!” Dustin whispered, waving his hands in denial. “I wanted a funny one.”
“Sorry, yeah sure.” Abby ruffled Dustin’s curls. Dustin shoved her hands away from hair. “There is one I don’t think I told you.” She paused for a moment. “So you know how dad played baseball in college before he met mom. I wish I could say I inherited his gift for baseball. But alas I did not. I really fucking sucked. I was no where near hitting the fucking ball when we played at school. I always hated when we had our baseball unit in PE. So, one day in third grade…”
A small girl walked through the door. Her brown curls barely reach her shoulders looking more like a bird’s nest than a proper haircut. She threw her backpack on the floor.
“I’m never going back to school!” wailed Abby running up the stairs.
“Abigail Grace Henderson!” called her mother from the kitchen walking into the living room hearing all the ruckus.
Abby dramatically flopped on her bed. The door slowly creaked, and a tiny Dustin walked in holding a toy stegosaurus. He came up poking Abby.
“Sissy, play dinosaurs?” asked Dustin.
“No,” mumbled Abby into her pillow.
“Please dinosaurs,” said Dustin pouting slightly.
“I said no! I don’t want to play stupid dinosaurs with you!” snapped Abby.
Dustin’s eyes got big filling with big crocodile tears. His lower lip started to quiver.
“Shit,” said Abby biting her lip. “Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to yell. We can play later.” She quickly tried to negate the bubbling tears before Dustin let out a wail that would alert their parents. She went into her nightstand pulling out a 3 Musketeers Bar shoving it in his hand.
Dustin giggled running off with the candy bar. Abby let out a sigh of relief until she saw her father standing in the doorway with a raised eyebrow.
“Wow, you sounded a bit of a…”
“Dustin! Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” scolded Abby “give me a break I was 8 and had a bad day.”
“Why?” Dustin questioned.
“If you shut up, I’ll tell you.”
Abby’s dad was a tall man nearing 6 feet and a muscular build. With his mop of dark brown curls and bright blue eyes all made him a bit of an intimidating man. He was wearing a red and black plaid shirt and blue and yellow Brewers baseball cap.
“Care to explain why you are yelling at your little brother?” questioned Abby’s father firmly.
“Umm,” sputtered Abby. “I got mad because he wanted to play, and I wanted to be alone.”
Her father sat on the bed next to her. “But instead of telling him nicely to go away you decided to yell at him. How do you think that made him feel?”
“Not good,” replied Abby looking at the floor.
“What should you have done instead?” her father asked.
“Use my words.”
“Right. Now, you understand that. Why are you so mad?” probed her father, his voice much gentler than before.
“We are playing baseball in PE for the next month. And I can’t hit the ball. All the kids laugh and call me ‘No Hit Abby’,” pouted Abby.
“Kids can be not nice sometimes. But that doesn’t make it okay for you to not be nice at home,” replied her father.
“I know. I just got angry.”
“Abby, you are better than that. Were you born able to swim or ride a bike?” Abby shook her head. “Right, you had to practice. Do you think throwing a fit helped you back then?”
“No obviously. But I was like a baby, and you taught me those things.”
“Right. So instead of throwing a fit, what could you have done?”
“Asked for help,” muttered Abby.
“Here’s what you are going to do. First, you are going to pick up your stuff downstairs. Then, you play with your brother for a half hour then do your homework. After dinner we will go outside and practice,” said her father. Abby let out a small whine. “Absolutely no whining. You are not going to treat your brother, who happens to adore you, like that.”
“Okay..okay, I get it.”
“Good.”
Dustin let out a sigh. “So, what’s really so funny about this?”
“Jesus Dustin,” laughed Abby. “It’s a story. You gotta wait for the good parts.”
“Was dad scary?” Dustin questioned.
“I guess sometimes. He was a really tall man. Built a bit like the tanks he used to drive when he was in Vietnam. He was more like a big teddy bear, but he was a lot stricter than mom is,” Abby answered shrugging.
“Oh.”
“Though he was a tough teacher he taught me a lot of stuff. Like teaching me to swim and ride a bike and rock-climbing,” continued Abby with a faint sad smile.
“Woah, he took you rock-climbing,” gasped Dustin.
“It was our little secret. Mom would have had a heart attack if she knew we often went rock climbing when we went camping. Dad always said it was just as important a skill as riding a bike when it comes to camping. I’ve told you like a million different camping stories,” said Abby. Her eyes began to burn making her squint slightly, but she managed to blink back the betraying liquid trying to escape.
Dustin’s arms wrapped around her suddenly. Abby couldn’t help but hug him back. She smiled fondly at him as he curled up into her side.
“So, every night we would spend at least two hours in the backyard with dad tossing me the ball and I kept missing it.”
“It’s hard to imagine you sucking at a sport,” said Dustin.
“Baseball is not my jam. I’m not that fond of basketball either, but I tolerate watching it. I really only liked soccer,” said Abby “I much rather go camping or hunting with dad than do all the stupid after school stuff mom tried to put me in. She made me stay in Girl Scouts forever, don’t get me wrong it was okay, but they never taught us the important stuff, only girly things.”
Dustin hummed in response, his eyes shutting slightly.
It was a Saturday. Abby and her dad were outside tossing the ball back and forth and taking swings at balls. No matter how many times he taught her how to grip the bat and wait to swing. She kept missing, though it was getting closer and closer.
“It’s dinner time! You guys have been at it all day. It’s time to come in,” called Claudia from the back door.
“Dee, give us one more try. She’s so close,” said Abby’s father, speaking sweetly much like Dustin had earlier.
“Fine, one more.”
“Come on, you can get Abs,” encouraged Abby’s father.
Abby moved her hands up on the bat just like her dad had shown her. She waited. Swing. BAM! Dead center in the sweet spot of the bat.
Abby jumped up and opened the door excitedly. She barely noticed her mother running towards her father, who was toppled over on the ground holding his lower gut.
“Oh my, honey…are you alright?” Claudia asked between her laughing, finally pulling herself together. She patted her husband’s back.
“Good job, Abs. If you do that, trust me they won’t be laughing anymore,” he grunted as he slowly got up off the ground.
A soft snore made Abby look over at Dustin he had curled into a ball on her side with his head on her stomach. Abby patted Dustin’s head. “You remind me so much of him so painfully so.” She whispered.
“He may look like your dad. But you act far more like him,” said Claudia softly.
Abby jumped, putting a hand on her heart. “Oh my god, mom, you scared the crap out of me.”
“Language, Abigail,” Claudia scolded half-heartedly. “I do mean it though.” She came in and sat on the bed next to Abby.
“When I look at Dustin, I see your dad. But when you laugh, I hear his laughter and see his smile. When you score a point your face lights up just like his. Your cheekiness and determination among so many things. You are so much more like him than you realize.” Claudia smiled sadly.
“I wish he could have seen how much you’ve grown. I don’t think I tell you enough how much I appreciate what you do,” said Claudia.
“You were always there for Dustin in a way I couldn’t. You did so much when you were still so young. I know, I know, you’ll say it’s not a big deal, but it is.” Claudia said her face slightly flushed as her brown eyes were slightly glossy in the dim light.
“Are you doing okay Mom?” Abby asked cautiously, watching her mother’s face intently.
“Of course. I just realized how much you’ve grown up and I couldn’t help it,” Claudia smiled hissing the top of Abby’s head. “Just being sappy again. However, you aren’t grown enough to not sleep. Go to sleep.”
“Right. Goodnight, Mom.”
“Goodnight, Abby.”
Abby turned off the light scooting herself down onto her pillow carefully not to wake Dustin. Although Dustin had once slept through a tornado, she was probably safe. She couldn’t help twirling a finger around Dustin’s curls much like she had done to her father years ago. She quickly wiped a drop of hot liquid that had run down her cheek.
“Abby! Dusty! Breakfast is done!” Claudia called from the kitchen.
Abby squinted as she rubbed her ears. Dustin groaned next to her and rolled over, kneeing her in the stomach. Abby gasped clutching the side of her stomach. “Fuck! Dustin get your ass out of bed,” she shoved Dustin, making him roll off the bed.
“What the hell?!” Dustin shouted as he groaned from the rough landing.
“You’re the one that kneed me in the stomach! Now, I remember why I stopped letting you sleep in my bed!” Abby hissed as she got up out of bed.
“You didn’t have to push me that hard?” pouted Dustin as he got up off the floor.
“You’re fine.” Abby rolled her eyes “Get out dork so I can get dressed.”
“Fine.” Dustin slammed the door shut behind him.
Abby's hand reached for her favorite pair of jeans, fingers brushing over the soft denim. She rifled through her closet until her gaze landed on the fuzzy, striped blue and white sweater. Despite the fraying edges, evidence of countless washes, she couldn't help but smile at the familiar texture under her fingertips. It was a comforting reminder of the memories woven into its threads.
Abby saw the walkie talkie on her nightstand and pulled out the same box from the previous night. She paused for a moment looking at the familiar Brewers hat in the box. She took it holding it for a while before suddenly putting it back in the box and slamming the closet door shut. She squashed her notes back into her folder and shoved it back into her backpack with all her other books.
“Morning mom.” Abby greeted her mother brightly as she sat down at the table as her mother put strawberry pancakes in front of her. “Thanks.”
“DUSTIN, hurry up before I let your sister eat all the pancakes!” shouted Claudia. Abby rubbed her ears slightly as her mother had been standing right next to her. “Sorry dear, didn’t mean to shout in your ear.”
“It’s okay. But when I have hearing loss when I’m older I’m blaming you.” Abby started to shove a pancake in her mouth.
“Oh yes, your potential hearing loss will have nothing to do with blaring music all times of the day, especially that Metalda stuff.” Claudia rolled her eyes.
“Metallica. But I literally only listened to them one time and you won’t let it go” Abby replied with a mouthful of pancake.
“Seriously, are you five? Don’t talk while you’re eating.”
Abby rolled her eyes going back to her breakfast as Dustin walked in. She tapped her foot under the table blocking out the usual batter between her mom and Dustin in the morning. She watched the clock throughout breakfast before taking one more massive bite finishing off her plate. “Mom, can Dustin bike to school? I need to stop by the library to return a few books from my history project. I’ll be late if I take him to school too.”
“Dustin, do you mind?”
Dustin shrugged. “It’s fine.”
“Great! I gotta go then. I’ll be back by dinner time. We have a meeting for the Christmas musical, and I was going to go to Barb’s to study with Nancy but that’s after dinner.” Abby got up from the table getting ready to leave the kitchen but gives her mother a last second hug before running out grabbing her backpack from the floor as she left.
“Be safe! No speeding!”
“I will.” Abby waved off her mother.
Abby threw her backpack into the passenger seat of her navy Ford Escort. Inside she had a purple fuzzy dice and a Florida state fair fresher hanging from the rearview mirror as a gift from her grandmother. She fastened her seatbelt as she looked out the back windshield as pulled out of the driveway.
After reaching school Abby, after a harrowing escape from the librarian trying to get her to volunteer the only free time she gets on Saturdays, she went to her locker throwing in her books in the locker carelessly. She only grabbed her Romeo and Juliet for English and her notebook.
BANG.
Abigail held a hand on her chest hissing seeing the familiar jacket attached to hand from her peripheral vision. “Munson for fuck’s sake can you stop doing that?”
“So, Henderson. Friday night, usual place,” said Eddie rolling his eyes. Abby turned around looking up at Eddie.
“Friday is open. You got lucky I didn’t agree to babysit yet. You need to start giving me more than four days' notice, Munson.” Abby sighed.
“I can’t help it you overschedule,” Eddie rolled his eyes, “you’re the one that agreed to join Hellfire Club.”
“It’s not about me being overscheduled. It’s about common courtesy,” Abby rolled her eyes, “If I didn’t want to play D&D with you guys, I wouldn’t have bothered to overschedule myself. As much as I enjoyed the interrogation I agreed to meet Nancy and Barb at their lockers before English. I’ll see you Friday.”
“Are you sure you aren’t just trying to avoid being seen with me?” Eddie raised an eyebrow.
Abby rolled her eyes and sighed. “Why is it so hard for you to believe I want to be friends?”
“Because you have a clique. You have no reason to hang out with losers like us,” stated Eddie.
“I get everyone here tends to be an asshole here to you. I haven’t spent my entire life here in Hawkins. I don’t really know the whole history. But I’m usually a pretty good judge of character. With some error in that. I happen to think you are a decent person with a good heart. Just let me show you that I’m not like most of the assholes here,” Abby answered gently.
As Abby walked away, she saw Jeff walking up to Eddie. She could briefly hear Jeff scolding Eddie for being so suspicious. She gave a small smirk briefly hearing Jeff describe her fight with Carol in 7th grade.
Abby leaned against the lockers next to Barbara finding the tall auburn girl changing out her books. “Chemistry is going kill me. I was up so late trying to study for this test. I can’t afford bad grades in Chemistry if I plan on going to a veterinary school after graduation.”
Barbara rolled her eyes. “I seriously doubt a veterinary school is going to care about your grade in Chemistry in high school.”
Abby playfully shoved Barb. “You’re supposed to be the supportive one. You’re probably right, but my undergraduate school will care.”
“You’re overthinking again,” reminded Barbara.
“I know, I know. I can’t help it,” sighed Abby. “ Let’s go find Nancy.”
The pair walk towards the entrance of the school searching for Nancy as they are squeezed by the hoard of teenagers. Barbra waved to Nancy before Abby could see her.
“So? Did he call?” asked Barbra.
“Ugh, I didn’t agree to meet to talk about Harrington,” groaned Abby.
“Keep your voices down—” hissed Nancy.
Abby rolled her eyes.
“Did he?” Barbara whispered.
Nancy shakes her head walking up to her locker. “I told you, it’s not like that.”
Barbara raises an eyebrow and Abby gags slightly.
“Okay, I mean, yes, fine, he likes me, you know, but not like that,” continued Nancy.
“I’m pretty sure that’s all Harrington thinks about,” said Abby. Barbra gives her shoulder a nudge and firm look. Abby raises her hands up in surrender.
“We just made out a couple times,” Nancy continued.
“We just made out a couple times,” mocked Barbara. “Jesus, you're gonna be so cool now. It's ridiculous.”
“No, I’m not!”
“Nance, you totally are,” agreed Abby.
“You better still hang out with me, that’s all I’m saying. If you become friends with Carol and Tomm H…”
“I swear to god I will tell everyone what’s in your diary if you do that,” added Abby fake gagging at the suggestion of Nancy being friends with them.
“Gross. And I'm telling you, this was just a one-time, two-time thing, alright?” said Nancy as she opened her locker. Nancy pulls a note off her locker and opens it.
Abby looked over Barbra and Nancy’s shoulder reading it along with Nancy. MEET ME. BATHROOM. STEVE.
Nancy looks at Barbara and Abby, dumbfounded.
“You were saying?” replied Barbara smirking.
“Wrap it up Wheeler. Seriously,” remarked Abby.
“Gross, Abby. We are in the hallway for crying out loud,” said Nancy scrunching up her nose.
“Just giving good advice,” shrugged Abby ignoring the horrified looks from her friends, “he has a reputation , that's all. And I know your parents are strict and my mom doesn’t really question me at all about condoms.” She lowered her voice slightly to avoid people staring at the mention of condoms.
“Seriously?” said Barbara.
Abby shrugs. “She gave me a whole speech when I started high school that she didn’t want to be a grandma until I graduated college. Just take condoms when I need no questions asked.”
“See you in English Nancy,” called Barbara and Abby breaking away from Nancy.
“I can’t believe your mom is that cool about sex,” whispered Barabra as a group of girls walked by.
Abby continued, “My mom says I’m going to do that stuff and other things anyways. She would rather have me do it in a safe way. She's just being practical and honest with me.”
Barbara raises an eyebrow, her expression reflecting confusion rather than judgment. "Your mom is... different."
“Maybe. But look if you had to deal with what my mom and I did, you’d be different too,” sighed Abby sensing that Barbara really didn’t understand.
Abby continued, "It's really not just my mom, Barbara. It's about trust and openness in our relationship. Something you and Nancy seem to have nailed down."
Barbara frowns, her loyalty to Nancy evident in her defensive stance. "Nancy's different. We've been through a lot together."
Abigail nods, acknowledging Barbara's point, "I get that, but it doesn't mean our friendship should be any less valued."
Barbara's eyes soften as she considers Abigail's words, "It’s not like…,” she sighed. “I never meant it like that.”
“You didn’t have to,” said Abby, “It was obvious.”
Just as they were about to enter the classroom Barbara blurts out, "I heard rumors about you this summer... about you and George."
Abigail's eyes widened in shock, hurt evident in her expression. "What kind of rumors? Who’s been saying stuff?!”
Barbara immediately regrets her words, realizing she's overstepped her bounds. "I'm sorry, Abby. I shouldn't have said anything."
Abigail's hurt turns into frustration, "Why do you always jump to conclusions about me? You never question Nancy like this."
Barbara's guilt deepens as she realizes the fact she really does treat them differently, "You're right. I shouldn't have assumed. But you didn’t deny either…"
Abby paused for a moment, “I think I’m going to sit by myself today. Don’t expect me to be in the study group either. I need some space.”
“Abby, please, I didn’t mean it like that,” said Barbara as Abby slipped into the classroom.
“Serious Barb, back off,” said Abby, “This was a lot. I need time and if you want to show you value my relationship as much as Nancy's, give it to me.”
Barbara pressed her lips together but went to sit in her usual seat while Abby went and sat with an unfamiliar girl with shoulder length mousy brown hair she had seen a few times but never spoke to.
“Hope you don’t mind,” said Abby.
“Yeah, sure, no problem,” sputtered the girl moving her stuff over.
Israel bet that the long-term war would produce this terrible silence, consent to genocide, and getting used to the scene... and frankly, they succeeded in that.
I don't know what the end of all this is, the whole world has let them down and is watching their starvation and displacement
the reason it’s rare is because without chlorophyll, the plant can’t get energy, and dies shortly after sprouting unless it has some other source of food. so if you see a plant as big as the one in the picture that doesn’t have any green in its leaves, it’s getting its nutrition from the roots of a neighboring plant of the same species, feeding on the sugars created by the other plant’s photosynthesis.
we’ve already discovered forests where trees share nutrients with young or disadvantaged trees and forests where trees can ask their neighbors for some extra food (they literally send a signal requesting aid, via the web of fungus that connects their roots) and forests where surrounding tees will keep a tree alive even when it has been reduced to a stump through some tragedy…
so, while i love the playfulness of “vampire” and i commend the specificity of “commensal, symbiotic mutualists” i think it’s worth considering, at this point, if “member of the community” might not be at least as apt
A lot of people around me are having kids and every day it becomes more apparent that hitting your children to punish them is insane because literally everything can be a horrible punishment in their eyes if you frame it as such.
Like, one family makes their toddler sit on the stairs for three minutes when he hits his brother or whatever. The stairs are well lit and he can see his family the whole time, he’s just not allowed to get up and leave the stairs or the timer starts over. He fucking hates it just because it’s framed as a punishment.
Another family use a baseball cap. It’s just a plain blue cap with nothing on it. When their toddler needs discipline he gets a timeout on a chair and has to put the cap on. When they’re out and about he just has to wear the cap but it gets the same reaction. Nobody around them can tell he’s being punished because it’s in no way an embarrassing cap, but HE knows and just the threat of having to wear it is enough.
And there isn’t the same contempt afterwards I’ve seen with kids whose parents hit them. One time the kid swung a stick at my dog, his mother immediately made him sit on the stairs, he screamed but stayed put, then he came over to my dog and gently said “Sorry Ellie” and went back to playing like nothing happened, but this time without swinging sticks at the nearby animals.
The psych nerds found out ages ago that punishments that make the child think for a few minutes (about one minute or year of age until they're tweens) is much more helpful to develope social intelligence and understanding than punishments which prevents thinking, like the ones that involve pain. In fact, corporal punishment encouraged lying, extreme reactions, violent outbursts, go figure, they don't trust you.
This is all really fucking serious and important and I'm mainly reblogging for that, because this correct mentality needs to be spread around more, but I'm also reblogging because I absolutely lost it at the child who dreads having to wear the normal blue hat of shame.
It's fun learning astrology until you start to make broad assumptions about real people's behavior based only on their birthday.
It's fun to speculate about alien civilization until you say early cultures weren't competent enough to build their own pyramids or until scientologists stalk you for every penny you have.
It's fun dressing symptoms in mystical language like "empath" or "indigo child" until you go through life undiagnosed, unaccomodated and feeling less and less human.
It's all fun and games until Tiktokkers tell you hallucinations are actually attunement with a higher dimension and that you should stop taking your antipsychotics.
It's fun to think about possession and changelings until mom starts trying to "save" her child's soul or dad kills his family for having "serpent genes."
It's fun to see natural formations as if they were manmade until you start believing cultists when they say flying saucers are Antarctic Nazis.
You can believe in magic. It's fun to believe in magic. Believing in magic is valuable stimulation. But watch out. Remember your reality checks. There's a lot of cults and scams and white supremacists out there who want to sell you something, and that longing for magic to believe in is how they get you.
This was an original piece written for a writing cones with a 2,000 word cap. It was the first original piece I've written in I can't tell you how long. Let me know what you all think. Should I write more?
Charlie groaned as he sat down in the wooden chair in his kitchen. He pulled off work boots and plopped them next to the door. Charlie lugged himself to the fridge and pulled out a beer, then into his living room, not bothering to flip on the light, just plopping down on his recliner, the chair dipping as he reached over, turning on his TV. Just as he slowly began to drift asleep, his front door banged against the wall. His hand reached over to the end table, pulling out a handgun. He loaded a bullet as a shadow stormed into the room.
“Holy shit! Charlie, it’s just me!” the shadow figure raised his hands, backing up to the kitchen doorway.
“Shit Luke! I almost just shot you!” Charlie groaned as he discharged his gun. “Have you lost your goddamn man charging into my house like that? I thought I was getting robbed.”
“Why are you sitting in the dark anyway? Is money that tight?”
“Fuck you,” Charlie rolled his eyes. “I work a double. Give me a break. Turn on the light so if I shoot you this time, you’ll know it’s on purpose.” He flopped back into his chair.
“Got any more beer?” Luke said.
“Go get yourself one. Turn on the light while you are at it.”
When Luke returned, Charlie got a look at him. His left eye turned a deep purple, and several scratches across his face. Charlie chewed on his inner lip as Luke drank his beer sitting on the couch.
“Fuck it. Who do I need to beat up?” Charlie said in a low growl. Luke tensed next to him.
A tense silence filled the room. The only sound from the cussing from the TV and distant sirens in the night. Luke’s Adam’s apple popped, watching Charlie seething in the seat beside him. Luke tensed again as Charlie reached for the gun on the stand. Only then did Luke jump to his feet, nearly spilling his beer all over the sofa.
“Sit your ass down. You don’t even know who it was. And you sure in hell ain’t going to fuck up your life for me.” Luke moved himself in front of Charlie.
“Tell…me who.”
“No.” Luke paused. “Not until you sit your ass back down and cool off. You ain’t thinking straight.”
“Fine.” Charlie gritted his teeth.
A sigh released from Luke as the tension released from his shoulders. He slowly sat down, taking a huge gulp of his beer. “I fuck up, bad this time.”
“I already guessed that.”
“I owe some people…. nasty people a lot of money.”
“How much money?”
“100k.”
Luke stared at the TV blankly, his hand trembling slightly, feeling Charlie’s eyes barring into him.
“Fuck, man. I told you to stop gambling.”
“I know. I know.” Luke raked his hand through his curls.
“What are you going to do? You don’t have that kinda money.” Charlie pressed his lips together. He looked around the room in thought.
“That’s why I came here. I didn’t have the balls to ask. I know I can’t fake money; they’d know it’s counterfeit, and conning them isn’t going to work. I need to fake my death, and I need your help.” Luke looked over at Charlie. Charlie raised an eyebrow.
“That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard. It’s so stupid it might actually work.” Charlie shook his head.
“I was thinking. Just dump my car into the river, then disappear off the grid. Then, in a few months, when they checked the river, they’d find the car and assumed I took the plunge. There’s no one else that can make this work.” Luke watched Charlie closely.
Charlie sat in silence for a few minutes before he put his beer down. “Did you drive here?”
“Nah, I walked here looking like this. Of course, I drove.” Luke shook his head.
Charlie’s eye twitched slightly, and he glowered. “Cut the smart-ass shit. Drive up to that spot we hung out in high school. There are no cameras there. We’ll push it in there.”
“Now?”
“Think like cops will when they pull out the car. You find out you owe lots of money you can’t pay. You drive up the cliff and take a nosedive, seeing no way out. I know you got a brain use it.” Charlie leaned forward, pulling out his keys. “After that, I’ll take you to a motel. We can go to the cabin after I clean up things here.”
“Are you sure about this, Charlie? Like if they find out…”
“I was looking for a reason to get out of the city. We can finally get out of this shit show of a city. Get going. I’ll be following.”
As Luke went out to his car and started to speed down the street, Charlie went to his room to change clothes. He looked over at the picture on his nightstand and picked it up. The photograph shows them younger, holding a football trophy with their team. He put it down with a fond smile. He shut the door as he twirled his keys in his hand.
Luke sat at the lookout, looking out at the river. He taps the steering wheel, thinking of what he will do. There was no going back. He would have to disappear and start all over and pray this worked. They would just think he was dead and didn’t hunt him down wherever he went. Maybe he should just drive off the cliff. Let Charlie live his life without covering his ass. What if they found out and killed Charlie before he managed to get out of the city. It would all be his fault. Just as he started to turn the key, he saw headlights approaching. He began to rummage through his middle console, pulling out an old key chain from his senior year of high school. Before had managed to fuck everything up with gambling.
Charlie rapped his knuckles against the passenger window. Luke almost took his keys out of the car as he got out but remembered what they were doing. He turned the car back on, and then Charlie gestured to open the window. Luke opened the window before locking the door as he got out.
“If the window isn’t open and you aren’t in there, it’s a dead giveaway.” Luke nodded as they both went to the back of the car.
They both pushed the car, putting all their body weight and muscle into it. Luke’s muscles screamed as he went them way beyond the limits he had in years. Charlie was carrying most of the effort, still being fit. Finally, in one significant push, the car rushed forward, and Luke nearly fell on their face as it did. PLOP!
“Let’s go before someone comes.” Charlie quickly got into his car. Luke paused momentarily, looking down at the river before finally joining his friend.
“We are really doing this,” Luke said as Charlie hauled out of the lookout as fast as his car could. The car groaned at the sudden acceleration.
“It was your plan.” Charlie rolled his eyes.
“I know. I just didn’t think it would really happen. This better work man.” Luke frowned. “You are putting your life on the line, no questions asked. People wouldn’t just accept you driving off a cliff. You can’t do what I’m doing.”
“You worry too much, Luke. I have a plan. Thought it all out on the way up.” Charlie smiles.
I can't reveal much until a later date but it was related to writing. And I'm excited to share it on here soon. I hope to start posting other things here as well. I haven't been writing much lately and I miss it.
I know I'm a writing blog and I haven't posted writing in months. But this is the truth. Israel is corrupt. It has done this for decades and no wants to say a word because it's a Jewish country. I don't care what religion a country is it's a war crime and it should be punished. As someone who has Jewish ancestry, not a practicing Jew, anyone who is Jewish cannot stand by and allow this to happen. This is a genocide just like what the ancestors of many Jews faced not so long ago. They are being persecuted and killed just for being Palatines. You cannot stand by and be silent. This isn't being anti-semantic. This stopping this cycle from repeating over and over.
There hasn't been much for me in a long time. I went though a six month period of shitty mental health. Anyways, I'm pack at writing and my other projects. Right now I have two stories I'm bouncing around with because I don't want to burn out on either. One is a Naruto story I started in 2018 that is going though massive revision and the other a Harry Potter story, that may or may not happen. Anyways, if anyone knows of anyone that would beta a Naruto AU long-term project feel free to message me. haha. I haven't had great luck with betas lately. Anyways....this isn't something I mentioned on here but I also have a YouTube channel that I've been neglecting that I also need to balance into everything. Hopefully, you guys can start to see writing coming from me soon!
The spread of this ideology does increase the chances of being feeling like their discrimination is justified. Not to image the heartbreak of finding an author you supported and admired is discriminatory towards you based on gender (a social construct). Sharing your opinion (words) with the whole world can have a good and positive impact on thousands if not millions of people. Harry Potter was and still remains an massive franchise, although not aging as well as some of the classics.
