Nov 27, 2014

#2

The time was five past noon. My train was in a minute. I would board the train – would have boarded it – and go to school again. The routine would proceed step by step as it usually did every week. This is what would have happened.

This is what should have happened.

A hard push, completely accidental, really a strong nudge – someone knocked into my back, balance was lost, I fell over and onto the tracks. To my right, I got a good glimpse of the twelve oh six as it ran me over with slowing wheels and electric brakes.

I was in New York, now. The time? I had no idea what time it was. I was in New York and I was alive.

A man was sitting across from me, looking at me, and he was saying something. I decided to listen–

"–should be dead, you realize?" his voice was older than he looked. That was a reasonable accomplishment, in my mind. This was an old man. "You have me to thank for your survival."

My mouth moved before my mind, nasty habit that, "Who are you?"

"Your rescuer. Your savior. One might even say you are indebted to me."

"I'm looking for a name."

The old man smiled, "You know my name. But you don't know what I look like, why would you?" he stopped himself and considered something. It was at this moment I realized he was holding a cane in his left hand. With his right hand, he snapped his fingers. "Let's make a deal. I saved your life, you are indebted to me, and you want me to tell you my name. I don't often do flimsy things like this, but I'm in need of staff, you see."

"Staff," I deadpanned.

"Horribly understaffed. It's very hard to have good employees these days. Last man I… ah… hired had a few problems with our contract. He all but walked out on me instead of just finishing his delivery. But, maybe I asked too much of him. I can be reasonable, you know?"

"I'm sure you can…" I conceded, "Which explains why you're holding saving my life over my head in some kind of employment scheme–"

He was fast to correct me. "No, no, no, no, no…! No… Not a scheme, never a scheme. It's a recruitment pitch, really. Nothing more than that. You see, I need a delivery boy. You look like just the sort for the job." He offered me his hand, "Shake, and your job will begin. I'll even tell you my name."

I eyed his hand. "You're a ROB, aren't you?"

"Pardon?" his hand didn't move at all. He just watched me.

"A ROB – Random Omnipotent Being… That's what you are, right? Yeah?"

"Others have called me 'omnipotent', but that acronym is new to me, I'll admit. Everything has a place and purpose, you realize. Randomness in our world is an illusion."

"And if I shake your hand…" I trailed, "You give me this job? That's it?"

"And I tell you my name." he smiled, "The deal is sweetening every moment, isn't it?"

"I'm not getting much out of this."

"Still on about that? You're getting to live. Greater men have killed and died for similar or lesser deals than what I'm offering you." He chuckled at the idea. But then he stopped, "In all seriousness, I'd recommend you take this. You will need it where you're going."

"…"

How many people could ever say they had been given the call to adventure? Here I was, in front of what may as well have been God himself. I was never a religious person, but when some clearly divine or otherwise omnipotent being offers me a deal… it would almost be more foolish not to take it.

He saved my life. And here I was, in New York. I just had to deliver something, right? I could do that. When everything was said and done, there would still be a train. My house would not be far away. My school was still within distance. How hard would it be to walk away once I did this?

It was a call to something amazing that I'd be foolish not to accept… and if things didn't go well, I'd still be able to go home. All in all, it was not a bad deal. Hell, it wasn't bad at all…!

And I got to live. That's more than what anyone else in my situation could say.

"You can't stay silent forever." The man said to me, "This deal is a limited time offer."

Ah. Time limits. I was never good with those. "Then I'll take it," I grasped his hand, "So, tell me your name and what I need to deliver." The sooner this was done, the sooner I could leave.

The old man all but laughed, "Initiative! I like that…" my hand, clenching his, felt cold, "Well, a deal's a deal. You asked for my name, yes?" he smiled wider. The cold in my hand disappeared, my mouth went dry, "Swell." His eyes lit up, "My name is Mephisto." And everything burned.

-x-

Five figures stood, four against one. The man in green laughed as a burning man rushed at him. Machines made their bodies into walls and stopped his progress. An orange rock struck one down and shields unseen phased into existence.

The rubber man was flung around. He was the important one, wasn't he?

Yes. Yes he was.

The night was dark, the night was powerful, and the night was alit with a new fire. It was my fire. The rubber man's eyes widened as he looked into mine.

He screamed.

[[PENANCE STARE]]

His soul burned. The green man took note. His eyes held disdain. Maybe fear? The light of the flaming man did not weaken me. But the green man stepped forward.

A shotgun was in his hand, his metal hand, and as he whispered words not meant for man he pulled the trigger.

Detonation – an explosion of sound and fury and fire and noise. This became my world. There was nothing else.

-x-

I was sitting on a train. My head was pounding. The train car itself was massive, larger than should have been possible. It was like sitting in an auditorium. And behind me was a massive window. I turned to look out and saw nothing.

A man offered me a drink. I could barely see him. He was a blur, to me. I said I didn't drink. "Give it time," he said in an accent that might have been British. And the man – was he a waiter? The waiter walked away.

I stood up and started walking to the other side of the car. There were streamers and chandeliers all across the ceiling. Confetti was on the floor, a tiled and beautifully arranged floor in blacks and reds and blues, and the confetti was white and green.

A door made of brass and silver on black wood greeted me on the other side of the massive coach. My hand drifted to the handle. A thought occurred to me. "Hey… Hey wait…!" I turned around to say something, "Wait a second!"

I wasn't in the train, anymore.

My lower lip went into my mouth; my teeth ran across it nervously. I lifted my foot and looked at the sole of my shoe. White confetti was stuck on my heel. I shook it off and stepped into the illumination of a streetlight.

Would it be a common theme, I wondered, to wake up in dark places? It was night again. But now I was somewhere else. I wasn't in an alley, thankfully, but I was at the far side of a road leading somewhere.

I needed a map. Or maybe I needed a sign? It's hard to remember.

But I found a sign – not a figurative, divine sign. I found a literal sign.

空座町

Huh. Kanji. That was neat.

So I was in Japan? Okay… getting home was going to be a bit trickier. Uh… Did I still have my passport? No, of course not… Why would I? Okay, still not too bad. I could work with this. I'd just need to make a call…

I rounded a corner in time to see a giant black monster with a skull for a face being stabbed by an orange-haired boy with a magical sword. My first thoughts, I admit, went to Samurai Jack. I don't know why.

My next thoughts went to the young girl dressed in white and watching helplessly from the sidelines as this was transpiring. Huh… Huh… That was a thing. That was definitely a thing.

Yup.

This was a very real and very strange thing.

I considered what this could possibly mean in terms of survival.

…whelp, I thought to myself. I'm dead.

Cool.

-x-

One Foot on the Platform

OR: One Foot on the Train

End-01

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Ars Poetica

Nov 27, 2014

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Threadmarks Chapter 002 

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Ars Poetica

Ars Poetica

ULTIMA RATIO NEMO OBLIGATUR

PronounsHe / Him / His

Nov 27, 2014

#3

More of the thing. The thing that keeps being a thing.

-x-

His power was the thing legends were made of – I mean that quite literally. Before any of his story arcs, before any of his boosts in strength and speed, before any of the things that would make or break the series Ichigo Kurosaki was ridiculous.

It was like a tidal wave of raw power that did not simply wash over me, it threatened to drag me under and drown me. And I knew it would go stronger. I read the series, I watched the anime, I knew just how strong Ichigo could become if given enough time.

Even knowing these things about him, feeling him at what might have been – should have been – his weakest point in the series before any of his sudden power-ups, it was only at this moment I realized how out of my depth I really was.

This was before he became genuinely terrifying, and he was scaring the crap out of me.

There was no obvious solution to dealing with what I was watching here. Drawing attention to my person from the main cast was undesirable for several reasons, not the least of which being a possible language barrier that I'd have no means to overcome at the moment.

Yet if there was anyone in this city, in Karakura Town, who could understand what I was saying and even help me… it would be 'hat and clogs' – better known as Urahara.

"And it was a really big train, too! Like, it was huuuuuge! Just from the size of the coach I was in – and I'm sure it was a coach because it was moving and I know the feeling of a moving train, I've been on a lot of trains before I was hit by one – I was hit by a train, holy crap I was hit by a train! So after being hit by a train, I talked with the devil – well, he's not really the devil, he's an inter-dimensional demon named "Mephisto", short for "Mephistopheles" like that one demon from – wait, no, I got hit by a train. And I talked with this guy. And he made me a flaming skeleton man! But…" I paused, "Wait, no, wait, I can prove it! Watch this:" I held my hands under my shadow cast by the halogens above me and started shouting, "FLAME ON!" Nothing happened. "Let me try again! I can do it! BY THE POWER OF FLAME SKULL!" …Still nothing… "Okay, so I can't transform into a flaming skeleton man but I'm pretty sure I did at some point and holy crap what the hell did I do while I was a flaming skeleton man and where is my motorcycle?"

The person behind the desk, a little girl with bangs and a light blush, just blinked before giving a cute yawn. "Ano…"

My palm connected with my forehead. "Oh. Right. Silly me. You can't speak English." I released an explosive sigh and considered trying again with what broken pieces of Japanese I knew when I heard the voice of an angel.

"You're not very well off right now… are you?"

I smiled, "Oh thank god, someone who I can understand…" a thought occurred, "You uh, you heard all of that…" it was not a question.

"Burning skeleton man, Mephistopheles, amazing super coach, giant train, dead but not dead…" he listed with one hand, a finger out for each point, "Flame on… performance issues… your missing motorcycle?" he grinned, "Is that everything?"

"Well, yes. Can you help?"

"Assuming my English is up to snuff, I think this is the part where I'd tell you to go see a shrink and talk with them about your issues. Or maybe call the police about your motorcycle." He shrugged, "I'm just a helpless candystore owner."

I ask myself every day how much easier life would be if I could think faster than I could speak. Sometimes, I acquire the interesting answer of– "Bullshit." Well, it didn't matter anyway. "You're a former Shinigami Captain capable of bridging dimensional gaps with what amounts to boxes of scraps. I think I'm in the right place."

…golly gee it got quiet fast. The only sound in the building that my ears could hear was my panting, resultant from an earlier diatribe. The little girl – oh, hey, her name's Ururu! Now I remember! Ururu was gone. Urahara was in front of me. Alone. And although I could not see his eyes under his hat, I was sure he was sizing me up.

I felt like a worm being dangled over fish in an ocean too wide and vast and deep to understand. I'm beginning to hate water, for some reason. I'd blame the world I'm in, but I've yet to drown.

"O… kay…" Urahara trailed, "Let's talk. But first, I think it would be important if you look at this." He took a pen out, "Now, it might not look like anything special, but this should be helpful."

"What?" I looked at it, "What is it?" A flash of light and sound and oh god my eyes were burning. I rolled on the floor screaming in agony. Was I just an idiot? I think I was just really stupid.

My head thumped into a display and I was buried in candy as I lost consciousness. When I woke up again, I was in an uncomfortable futon. An incredibly large man with an epic mustache was drinking tea and watching me through overly reflective glasses.

I heard a door slide shut, "I'll admit." Urahara said, "That was weird."

My arm slid over my aching head, covering my eyes from view as I shut them tightly. The room felt too bright for me. "Did… Did I fall for that? Did I seriously fall for that?"

"Depends on what you fell for."

"You tried to erase my memories. What the hell, man? What the actual-"

"I've dealt with crazies before," another one of those helpless shrugs, "And when someone bursts into my shop complaining about a missing motorcycle, deals with the devil, becoming a flaming skeleton man… you did not strike me as being anything but insane. And besides, you have so little power that I never thought that would happen. So, again; that was weird."

My arm came down and I stared at the man. "You memory wipe crazy people?"

"Well, just the ones who know too much. I mean, hey, if someone came into your store and started talking about how you were a former Captain with technology built to traverse dimensional barriers and you didn't want people at large to know about those silly details and had a quick and easy way of wiping the obviously insane person's memory, wouldn't you do that?"

Was this a trick question? I thought it was a trick question…

"I'd offer him the help he was asking for and send him home with a slap on the wrist and a pat on the back?" I offered with a smile.

Urahara pulled out his fan and laughed, "My, you're cheeky! And sarcastic, too. It's almost like you don't want me to help you."

"I do! I really want your help, sir! Mister! Uh… Boss?" a gleam entered his eyes, "Yeah, uh, boss! Right! I asked around for two hours in the middle of the night looking to apply… for a… job…" my head dipped, "That was a dumb lie. I can't lie."

"If you're offering to work… maybe something can be arranged?"

A frown crossed my face, "Are you offering? That's…"

"I don't know who you are, but something about you bothers me. Letting you stay here and work is a bad idea, but letting you leave now is an even worse idea, especially if your mind can't be wiped. If you see something you're not supposed to and a Shinigami tries to wipe your memory and fails… Let's just say that the Soul Society likes keeping secrets more than this humble candy store owner does." The gleam in his eyes turned dangerous, "So. I get the feeling you don't want to be here? Okay. That's fine. I don't want you here, either. But since letting you leave would be a dumber idea than keeping you… I'd might as well work something out. Sell yourself. Make me an offer."

"Huh?"

"You need room, board, and presumably pay until you can find a way home. I'm the only one who can supply that way home that you know of… so that should be pay enough, right?"

"Wait… this… This is too easy. You're just offering me a job?"

"What can you do? What are your skills? Your strengths? Your weaknesses? If you're staying here, and if you're working for me, you're going to be able to contribute."

"Uh… Uh…" Oh god it was all too soon! I just died and came back to life and now I'm having a job interview with the grim reaper? Well, a grim reaper, but still. "Well, I worked in a library for two years. And before that, I worked in a school store for three years. So I have five years of work experience in various environments, and-"

"You're hired."

"…eh?"

"Tessai," he addressed the massive, scary looking man, "Watch him. His shift begins in an hour." Urahara looked at me, "We're not done here. We'll talk later."

He left the room.

And I just laid there in my uncomfortable futon with the big, scary Tessai standing over me. Wearing his apron. And drinking his tea. Oh, hey, that rhymed!

…Oh god I'm going to die.

Again.

-x-

One Foot on the Platform

OR: One Foot on the Train

End-02

#4

This thing is brought to you by the letter 3. Because 3 is totally a fucking letter.

-x-

Blue jeans and a collared T-shirt apparently qualified as a 'uniform' in the Urahara Shoten. In this humble candy store, one was not asked to wear a ridiculous uniform except in more unusual circumstances. And my employment, I quickly discovered, did not count as an 'unusual circumstance'.

Considering how often Renji was 'employed' here, I was far from surprised. The store policies were relaxed probably because of its selective customer base… and that was fine with me. That meant I didn't have to interact with large quantities of people for significant portions of time.

The biggest problem would, again, be the language barrier. The customer base in a small store in Japan would, most likely, only be speaking Japanese. Urahara knowing English came as a surprise to me, but it really shouldn't have. The man was over a century old. Of course he'd have picked up more than just one language in that time.

So when Tessai finally addressed me in my native language in a steady tone, it was hardly shocking. "You're new here. Because Urahara is currently looking into your case, I will be giving you an introduction into your duties. But first," he reached into the left pocket of his pants and withdrew something. It was a small, square piece of paper-like substance. "This should be helpful."

I eyed the little blue square suspiciously before considering the van parked next to the shop. "Hey… You're not gonna ask me to cook anything, are you? 'The first taste is free' and all that?"

Either he was just that solid a person or he just didn't get the reference. Whatever the case, Tessai didn't even flinch. "Individuals with Reiatsu are more prone to acquiring information over time than others. This square of rice-paper has been designed to simulate that in a much shorter span of time."

"How so?"

"Put it in your mouth. It will dissolve, and then you'll most likely stop having language issues." he paused, "Reading may be a challenge for you, but it should sort itself out in a few months. For now, you just need to be able to speak to customers."

…they wouldn't poison me, would they? Urahara already knocked me out trying to wipe my memory, would he try pulling something off with a drug? Maybe Mayuri would do that… but then Urahara was the one who got Mayuri into the position necessary for that maniac to become a Captain, so…

"Well… uh…" I took the square and, with great trepidation, lifted my tongue and placed the thing underneath it. "Kgurgukh– Gaahh…" I chocked. It was the worst thing I had ever tasted. "Oh… Oh god… What did I just put in my mouth? It… It tastes like cardboard hell." It did dissolve, but it turned my saliva into this sweet syrup that burned my throat on the way down. "I don't want to die…!" Again. I did not want to die again. But my pain overrode any sense of correcting such a trivial detail.

"It… It doesn't taste that bad, does it…?" Tessai marveled, "At the end of the day, no matter its unusual properties, that's basically just a square of rice paper. It shouldn't be that bad."

"It's the worst! The absolute worst!"

Tessai sighed. "I… I understand that, but…"

"What sick monster would do this?! What depraved, inhuman creature would conjure this pain…?!"

"I… well… that is…"

A moment passed, "Oh. Hey. It's done."

Awkward silences, I was starting to realize, would be a common theme of my stay in the Urahara Shoten. "Well," Tessai stated, "That is good. Is there anything else you'd like to say about my Barrier Square?"

"Oh, so you made it? And that's what you call it? Well, I think-" I ruined his apron with an explosion of stomach acid and misery. "It burns worse coming back up…! It hurts…! It hurts…!"

-x-

I looked like mini-Tessai. It should have bothered me that he had a set of clothes in my size, but then a lot of things about the Urahara Shoten should have bothered me and didn't. If I let all these things that should have bothered me actually bother me, I probably wouldn't be getting anywhere.

"Well…" Tessai exhaled, "That… transpired."

"Yup."

"We're opening in a few hours, so although this was a rather significant setback, we should still be able to cover everything we need to within the next few minutes."

"Cool."

"And the square worked!" he wasn't smiling, but there was cheer in his voice. "I almost thought it wouldn't when you, ah…" a cough, "Anyway, I'm sure you haven't noticed yet, but we've been having this conversation in Japanese."

"Wait, what? Really?" I thought hard about it, "It… It feels natural to me. I didn't even know we switched! If you could get the ipecac out of your rice square, this might be one of the greatest inventions in history!"

"Oh? Well, the ingredients were mine, but the actual formulae belonged to Kisuke, so-"

"Worst invention in history. Zero out of ten. Would not buy again."

"…Moving on. You will be helping me move the boxes of product we have recently received throughout the shop. Boxes with red labels go in the back. Yellow labels will be unpacked later and the product will be examined before being placed on display – until then, stack them in the back room opposite the red labeled boxes. You'll know where to put them. Blue labels are rare, but if you encounter any, call me. They usually are large and heavy, if not, then they usually contain something dangerous or fragile. I will be helping you on your first day and again tomorrow. After that, you'll be on your own. Understood?"

"Uh, yes."

His glasses glinted. "Yes…?"

"Yes… sir?"

"Good! Now, begin!"

-x-

"This job goes much faster when I have competent assistance." Tessai commented as he lifted a stack of large boxes.

I almost grinned at that, "Well thanks. This isn't much different than a hard day at the store or when we'd get a large order of books going in or out. Hell, it's easier."

"Hoh? Easier? Then maybe I should delegate more work for you?"

The sensation of sweat dripping down the back of my neck, was this the legendary anime teardrop? It didn't matter much. "No, no. This is fine for now…" I laughed nervously.

Talking in Japanese without knowing was an odd experience. It took active concentration on my part to recognize I was saying anything in a different language at all. Mind you, switching between Japanese and English wasn't too hard for me when it came to speaking and listening, but Tessai wasn't kidding when he said I'd have reading issues.

I'd already learned Hiragana and Katakana in school, so writing and reading my name was already something I could do. But the sudden influx of Kanji information was too much for me. All the lines and dots and dashes and strokes just blurred together into a big, blobby mess of marks.

The door cover slid open to reveal the world outside. Sunshine and happiness, huzzah! Non-artificial light, I'd thought I would never see it again… "Hey, Jinta… It's too early to open up sho- huh?" Tessai stopped himself. I put down a yellow labeled box in the back right corner and stepped out to see the man put his boxes down and address a short highschool girl – wait, did he say Kuchiki?

I looked again. Her hairstyle should have given it away, but really it just flat out did not. Animated characters, I was quickly discovering, fell into one of two categories when translated to reality. Either they would match the animated depiction perfectly, or there would be just enough differences between their appearances that you'd need a name to match them up.

Rukia Kuchiki was short, her eyes were purple, her hairstyle was distinctive… but it took at least another glance or two before I could tell these things for certain. She was someone who solidly and certainly fell into the second category and without her name; I'd never have looked at her again.

"Hm?" she took notice, "New help?"

Tessai nodded once, "Of a sort." That should have been the end of it. "Oi, introduce yourself."

Ah. Well. Okay. I could do this. I took a deep breath, "OK! My name is Poe R.R. Acti. My friends call me Ars. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Kuchiki." And I bowed. Ladies and gentlemen, this is what professionals in the business call… nailing it.

She eyed me for a moment before completely dismissing my presence, "Is Urahara still sleeping?"

"He's in the back." Which back? This store was deceptively small. Ignoring the incredibly large basement and inconsistently large storehouse reminiscent of a goddamn TARDIS, it had at least two massive backrooms, several bedrooms, at least two simple bathrooms that I'd been able to find, a tatami room, a bathing room – different from a bathroom in that one just went in to relax – a kitchenette, and probably a lab. Maybe.

I wouldn't know where the lab could be located and still don't, but considering the space-time shenanigans that went into making the Urahara Shoten and Urahara's need to make things, I would not have put it past him.

Something about this, though… something about this was familiar… When Urahara entered the room, he gestured at me to walk out with him. "If I know Miss Kuchiki correctly, she will be asking for a certain request that came in recently. Normally, we'd send Ururu or Jinta back here to get it. But since you're here…"

"And since there are no boxes left to stack, you had might as well make use of me." I sighed.

"That's right." He nodded. "Now, I know you can't read kanji, but you should be able to follow directions. The box itself just arrived and hasn't been sorted yet. It will be nearest to the door on your immediate right. There should be a wide strip of white tape on the top and it should be sealed and labeled clearly – ah, well, should be sealed… we really need to invest in new labels…"

"Why not duct tape?"

"We reuse our boxes. In addition to being expensive, duct tape rips and tears them. And considering the nature of our product, we can't afford accidents in-transit or on-route. Do you understand what you need to do?"

"I do."

"Then start!"

"Yes, sir!"

I went into the storehouse all but headfirst. It was dark, but a quick flick of a switch shed some light on the situation.

'Shed some light'… hah! I kill me.

I found the box, eventually – it was hard not to, considering it was sticking out halfway. Or, at least, I thought it was the box… I opened it up and peeked inside. The first thing I saw, right on top and inside the box had the look of a Pez dispenser, all wrapped up in bandages. This… this was familiar… Three red squares were on the side of the box in a triangular order, and – wait.

Everything started falling into place. I looked at the box right next to the one I just opened and cut that one open, too. Another Pez dispenser was there, wrapped up in similar bandages. I frowned and really considered what I was about to do.

If I was right, then this little change… this slight alteration… would anything really bad come of it? Well, no. At least, I didn't think so. Why would anything bad come of it? What I was doing could very well save me later on if the train ever came back for me. I was thinking of the future. I was planning ahead. And who would miss this little guy, anyway?

Finding the spare tape dispenser was easy. I took the cloth off the dispenser from the first box and clicked it once. A small green pill popped out and into my hand. Then, with equal care as before, I rewrapped the empty dispenser and put it back in its box, sealing it shut.

Rukia and Ichigo wouldn't complain about what I was about to do. And would Urahara notice? Nah, he was going to destroy everything in that box anyway. Doing this much would be fine. I pocketed the little pill and walked out with an ideal product, the picture of innocence. And, hey, I was innocent.

What I was doing wouldn't hurt a soul.

-x-

One Foot on the Platform

OR: One Foot on the Train

End-03

I did some research on the Ghost Rider. Holy shit he's OP.

-x-

Urahara owns a very nice van. You never see him drive it in the anime or manga. For that matter, you never see any of the employees of the Urahara Shoten driving or riding in the very nice van either… And for the life of me, I just couldn't figure out why. This? This was a nice van.

The seats were comfortable, there was lots of room in the back, and–

"You're driving." Tessai interrupted my line of thought entirely.

Regarding him, I could only stare wide-eyed and uncomprehending, "What?"

"You are going to be driving this van."

"I… I heard you the first time… but you see, I don't have a license-" Tessai produced a laminated card with my name, birthdate, and other appropriate information, "…I'm not sure whether to be more impressed that Urahara got a good picture of me or that he was able to guess that I'm twenty-one." He had my birthday written down. When did I tell the man my birthday? "That's… kind of creepy."

Tessai shrugged, "He does things like this. I've learned not to question it."

"You, too?"

"Not 'too'. You're still learning. It's an art, really."

"I… am inclined to believe you… so… I'm driving?"

Tessai handed me a map, "You'll be going to the location with a red 'x' marked on it. If a man with a suspicious grin shows up, you'll be in the right place."

"Ah. Okay. So am I picking anything up, or…?"

"You're delivering supplies. We do this once a week, so the sooner you get used to it, the better."

I nodded at that. "And what if I tell you that I failed my driver's test because I hit a deer?"

"I'd call you a very funny man with a very legitimate driver's license that our mutual employer definitely did not develop overnight in his basement."

"Oh. Okay. That's good." More nodding ensued, "And, uh, I totally earned this license the right way. No deer were killed in the making of this license."

Tessai gave a thumbs-up, "Good man. Now, drive!"

"Yes, sir!"

I hit the gas and definitely didn't come close to running Jinta over because I forgot to adjust all of my mirrors. I am and always have been a professional driver – the most professional driver.

-x-

"Are you trying to get us killed?!"

"I actually think I'm getting the hang of this."

"You're nuts!" the hula girl shouted out me from the dashboard, "You're completely insane! I don't wanna die!"

"Oh be quiet, you. It's my dream; I can die when I want."

"Dream? Dream! Are you on drugs?!"

"No, Kon. I am a winner. And winners don't do drugs." I almost knocked over a public phone booth. But I didn't. Because I am and will always be the greatest driver ever.

"You're insane! This isn't a dream!"

"It only hurts because I think it hurts. It's not real pain. It's just me being me. Asleep. I probably won't remember any of this. So, it's all good." I smile at the hula girl and decide to play chicken with the road.

"Aaaaaahh! No! Open your eyes goddamnit! Look at the road! Look at the – watch for cars! We're gonna die! Oh god! Oh god why?!"

"Whoops."

"What? No. Don't tell me you screwed up! Who did you kill?"

I sighed, "I didn't kill anyone, Kon. I just missed my last turn."

"…no…"

"Guess I'll have to turn around…"

"No, no, no, no, Nooooo!"

-x-

"You're a bit of an oddball, ain'tcha?"

I frowned at that, "I wouldn't know about being odd, necessarily…"

"Flaming skeleton man."

"…He told you that?"

"O'course he did. It was too hilarious not to." Shinji Hirako grinned widely. To this day, I wonder how he does that thing with his mouth. "After we're done unloading this… let's talk."

"Huh?"

"Flaming skeleton man ain't his expertise. But it shouldn't be too hard for us to deal with it," he looked me up and down, "You don't look like a fighter… hell, you don't feel that strong either… This shouldn't take too long."

"Uh… I'm flattered and all, really I am, but this seems a bit sudden…"

"Too late to get cold feet, you're already here! Let's just get this over with."

We unloaded the van together in relative silence after that.

-x-

There's something refreshing in watching an objectively little girl beat the hell out of a man with a sandal. My inner schadenfreude tingled with delight at the sound of it.

Looking around afforded me a good view of the rest of the Visored. Lisa was sitting down and reading manga, Hiyori was currently beating the hell out of Shinji, Mashiro was talking with Kensei – well, jumping around ecstatically, really, but… Love and Rose were arguing about something just out of earshot. That left Hachigen who was setting up a barrier of some sort.

This is normally the part where one launches into an in-depth description of each of these interesting people, but in all honesty, I never had enough of a chance to interact with them to say much. I suppose, if you're reading this, you know already what they look like and have an idea of how they act…

So my memories of the event, if not vague, are terribly redundant. No new or interesting things to say or be said about them, unfortunately. Such a shame, that.

"Okay, I'm not expecting much from you…" Shinji shrugged, "So go over there," he gestured to a relatively large area in front of Hachigen, "An' do your, uh, your 'flaming skeleton man' thing." He shoo'd me over there – actually effing shoo'd me.

I walked over and sat down, eyeing Hachigen from a distance. "Hey… Hey, you're the kido expert, right?"

He looked at me, "Well, I'm not one to flatter myself, but 'kido expert' would not be too far off, no."

"Okay. Got anything that can make it dark?"

"…And why would you need something like that?"

I smiled, "The Ghost Rider comes out in the darkness, not the light. Also, try making it dangerous. Like, really dangerous." In reflecting, it was not that I was feeling particularly suicidal that day. Rather, it was just an honest truth. If something went wrong, there was no doubt in my mind that at least one of the people there would be able to help me. But, otherwise, I'd be perfectly safe.

From my understanding of it, the host of the Ghost Rider wouldn't just spontaneously die – couldn't just up and die. The host of the Rider could survive even the most disastrous of accidents or attacks or incidents because the Ghost Rider, at the end of the day, had protection. I was, in the most roundabout way, protected from death.

Either that or it really just didn't sink in that I was in another world after a week of working for Urahara. I like to think my actions were inspired by semi-educated faith instead of blind and stupid insanity, but they're similar enough that it doesn't really matter, does it? The sad truth was that I really didn't think what was happening was actually happening. There was no risk, right? If it was all a dream.

Hachigen raised an eyebrow at my request, "Absolute darkness and imminent threat of death? I'd rather not accidentally kill you without even knowing you… I would actually rather not kill you at all."

"You won't be. Trust me. I'll be fine. Just…" I waved my hand, "Do the thing."

The large man with pink hair looked to Shinji and the other man sighed, "If he's that sure it'll work like that, go for it." A nod was all that was given in response.

The kido expert focused his attention on me, and… "Seeping crest of turbidity. Arrogant vessel of lunacy! Boil forth and deny!" Wait… I considered something. I was asking for him to hit me with a kido spell that made things absolutely dark and threatened my life. "Grow numb and flicker! Disrupt sleep!" There's blind faith and then there's total stupidity. Thinking back, I was legitimately at risk of dying. "Crawling queen of iron! Eternally self-destructing doll of mud!" There was only one kido spell that did what I was asking for, to my knowledge, and this guy was about to use it on me. This guy was about to use it on me oh crap. "Unite! Repulse! Fill with soil and know your own powerlessness!"

But I think what made me absolutely sure I wasn't in a dream was that for the life of me I did not remember the incantation for what was about to hit me… and there was no way my head could come up with this.

"On second thought this might not be a good idea-"

[[HADO NUMBER NINETY: BLACK COFFIN!]]

-x-

In the depths of nothing came the spark of existence from which a flame of burning, burning, burning FIRE tore through the starless universe and into the light of false day to the witness of quivering gods whose swords spoke of pain and misery untold, unbound, rebounding within their cores and beings.

Theirs were souls not meant to burn.

A cry of passion, the swing of brave desperation brought down the expression of their being unto the form of flame and bone and stopped its cutting, blocked by void and nothing but what it intended to strike.

So HE stood in blazing glory to reach and grasp the neck of the whimpering deity. The thing's sickening innocence would spare its being from pain only for so long. A cloth of red, once the jacket of this entity, rose to the heavens alit with hellfire and pain.

She stumbled, HE stood. HE challenged. HE beckoned.

They rose.

HIS hands were empty of flesh and existed as naught but bone and deflected the tools of these entities with wanton grace and carelessness. One with glasses aimed to strike from where HE could not see and struck the dirt, so swift was his lifted and descending leg.

It was not a kick that launched her, but a careless shuffle. A name was cried. But HE sees through all illusions. HE has no eyes to see, no ears to hear, no skin to feel, no nose to smell, no tongue to taste.

HE sees their trepidation and strikes, breaking the arms of the Venetian doctor. HE hears their cries of distress and disables the grasshopper with the swiftest motion of a single arm. HE feels a blade move through cloth and strikes no flesh, feels the realization of the star-haired man and breaks the demon over HIS knee. HE smells their fear. He tastes their souls.

Too innocent. Too pure.

HE was here for the wrong reason. HE was not meant to be here. There were no souls to punish. Only fools to bury.

Let the other gods bury their deceived and weaker young. HE becomes ash and fades to the darkness from whence he came, entering this peaceful bliss as–

-x-

My head hurt. In fact, I didn't think my head could hurt more than it did right then. My eyes opened to a scene of ash and total destruction. What once resembled Urahara's basement now looked like a scorched battlefield right out of, well, I'd say "hell" but that term just felt lacking.

Everything had turned black with ash and burning. Shinji stood a short distance away. His sword, in its released state, was broken halfway down its length. Kensei was holding me with both arms and panting like he ran a marathon, "Holy… Holy shit, kid… Holy fuck…"

Rose wasn't moving. The man was completely unconscious and I'm pretty sure his arms were bent the wrong ways. Love wasn't doing much better, curled up over a rock a few yards away from me and covered in ash.

Lisa was nursing what may have been a broken jaw; her sword was wedged deep into the earth and far away from her. Hiyori was just covered in burns, but to her credit, the girl was awake. And alive.

Hachigen had stood in the same position for most of the time, but I could see that one of his legs was broken. And a shoulder. And his gut was bleeding. And wow I did a number on the man while I was – "What… What did I do?"

"Flaming skeleton man." Shinji exhaled, "Goddamn flaming skeleton man…"

-x-

One Foot on the Platform

OR: One Foot on the Train

End-04

Poe dun goofed.

-x-

"Urahara… Are you alone?"

"I have Poe with me."

"Ah. An', uh…"

"You're on speaker."

"Great. Hi, Poe."

I responded to Shinji in kind, "Hi, Shinji."

"Okay!" Urahara's voice was positively saccharine, "Now that we've got greetings out of the way, how exactly did our little discovery session go?"

Shinji's exhale was painful to hear, "Is that what you call it?" At Urahara's prodding silence, Shinji continued, "Well, whatever he turns into, it's terrifying."

"That's… not a word I hear often from you." The cheer disappeared from Urahara's voice, "Just how 'terrifying' exactly? And in what way? I assumed his apparent transformation would not be too different from yours."

"Whatever he turns into, it's not a Hollow. It doesn't have any spiritual pressure. Hell, it doesn't have any spiritual power. It was like he wasn't even there. But he definitely was. We felt it. Hoo boy we felt it, alright…"

"My understanding is that his form was able to defeat all of you?"

"Defeat? Urahara, I've been 'defeated' before. I've been beaten, battered, an' I've lost fights. That wasn't a fight. That was…" he struggled for the words, "It was like he was the exterminator an' we were the ants. It was pest control an' he knew it."

Truth be told, my experience with awkward silences forced me to conclude that once you've been around them long enough, they stop being awkward. But the kind of silence brought about from something like, say, learning that you have an alter ego that thinks a group of "Captain-class" Shinigami with Hollow powers are on the same level as a bunch of ants… That kind of silence never stops being unpleasant.

"Were you able to do anything to slow him down?" Urahara asked aloud. It was almost rhetorical considering how obvious the answer would be.

"Urahara, nothing worked. We brought out our masks, we released our Zanpakuto, an'… an' he didn't even bother shrugging most of it off. Shrugging would mean that our attacks made him move. He was unstoppable, Kisuke. Nothing hurt him, nothing slowed him down. For about three minutes, he tore us apart. An' he was holding back."

"Well… that's good, then!" I broke in, "I mean if any of you did something objectively bad, then we wouldn't really be having this conversation, right? So, if this was a test of character… you all passed!"

"Except," Urahara glanced at me, "It was not a test of character; it was a test to see if you really were telling the truth. More than that, it was a test to see how powerful your 'flaming skeleton man' was – is," he corrected himself, "And what do you mean 'objectively bad'?"

"The Ghost Rider, that's what he's called by the way, he has this… very strict moral code. I guess you could say he's also called the 'Spirit of Vengeance' for a reason." I laughed nervously. Nobody else was laughing. "Basically, if you were the kind of person who killed someone completely innocent without regret, without remorse… if you are someone who is evil or just plain bad, he stops holding back. It's a pretty black and white way of looking at the world, but depending on how he's depicted, it can vary. I actually have no idea how he judges someone to be guilty or innocent, exactly… but you guys were all innocent, so it's all good!"

"That… That does not inspire confidence." Urahara sighed, "Not in the least."

Shinji's voice rang over, "Kid, that Ghost Rider of yours, do you mean to tell us you have no control over it?"

I shrugged helplessly. Realizing the motion wouldn't translate over a phone, I elaborated. "No… not really. The conditions for bringing out the Ghost Rider that I know of are darkness and death. But, he's really a good guy!"

"…There's so much wrong with that, I don't even know where to begin." Urahara reached up to rub the bridge of his nose, "In any case, if this Ghost Rider works the way we think it does, then you're going to need to learn to how to defend yourself."

"I… don't follow." And, really, I didn't. The Ghost Rider could obviously take on just about any given threat sent in my direction. Add to that the fact that nothing would lethally injure me so long as the Ghost Rider was there to stop it and I was far from being in dire straits.

"Hachigen could explain it better'n I could, but to give you an idea of what that thing can do an' what you need to do to bring it out…" Shinji trailed, "Well, uh, imagine the universe. Or, I guess, imagine a quilt. Or a shirt."

"You're not being very clear-"

"Shaddup. Hado Ninety, Black Coffin… it makes a container around a certain area an' pokes a hole in the fabric in that area. Anythin' inside of the container gets sucked away. When the container gets empty, the thing collapses on itself an' seals the hole, stitching it back together again."

"…What." The thing Shinji was describing was so far outside of how the universe worked, so functionally alien to me, that I struggled to comprehend it in its entirety. Given a moment to understand what he was saying, Shinji had just explained to me that he threw the Ghost Rider into a black hole. The Ghost Rider disagreed with this and decided that singularities are for sissies before promptly wrecking the respective shit of everyone present.

"Your little Ghost Rider friend is basically indestructible an' unbeatable. But the conditions to bring him out are just stupid. Plain an' simple, kid." Shinji was probably shaking his head.

Urahara spoke up, "To summon your Ghost Rider, you require absolute darkness. There is only one Kido technique that I know of that does this and that is Black Coffin. Combine that with a simultaneous need for imminent death and that basically means that whoever is using that Kido can't hold back – full incantation, full power, no breaks or hesitation. I can count on one hand the number of people I know of and trust to do that with you and you put one of them out of commission in the three minutes your Ghost Rider came out to play."

"So it's too situational?"

"It's more than that." Urahara rested his back against the wall and shifted his bucket hat up so I could see his eyes properly, "In all seriousness, your Ghost Rider isn't just unreliable because of what's necessary to bring him out, the Ghost Rider is unreliable because once you've brought him out nobody can control him. Kido, in I'm assuming all its forms, does not work on the Ghost Rider. The powers of Zanpakuto do not work on the Ghost Rider. And asking him to stop is completely meaningless because he can't hear you." Another deep exhale, "That thing has a genuinely god-like quality to it and Shinji is right to be terrified, but outside of the one situation where the Ghost Rider can be brought out, you're completely helpless and anyone who wants that power for themselves will figure that out fast."

"…So, basically," I thought about it, "You're scared Aizen might try to steal the Ghost Rider?" Golly gosh and gee whiz, Batman, I really am growing to hate these sudden silences.

"Where did you hear that name?" Urahara's voice was a whisper.

"Kisuke… Who is this guy…?" Shinji's voice came over on the phone.

I swallowed. "Uh…" I coughed. "Can I have a glass of water?"

"I have let you live here, now, for over a week. So far, you have done nothing harmful to us." He looked at me and, I swear to you, it was a biblical level of terror. "But you know about things you really should not know about. And I have the strangest feeling that you've been deliberately holding out." His eyes glinted, "Talk. Now."

"I'm… from the future?"

"You're a shitty liar!" Shinji called out.

"Let me try again, then. Uh, I'm from another world where you're all just characters in a manga?"

"Still a pretty shitty liar!"

"I was telling the truth about the flaming skeleton man, wasn't I?" I snapped back, "And quit shouting at me! Quit glaring at me like I'm… like I'm some kind of criminal! I've done nothing wrong."

"You stole a mod soul."

My blood froze. "W-Well… Yeah! Yeah I did! So what!" When in doubt, double down. "I stole a mod soul that you were going to destroy, anyway! I saved him from certain death."

Urahara stared. "Even giving you the benefit of the doubt, even assuming you're from the future or the world's just one big manga… your behavior has still been suspect. There are better people to go to than myself in this city, so why did you pick me? Unless…" a thought occurred, "Am I the main character?"

"You're the only person in this city I knew about! And the story isn't about you, anyway. It's about Ichigo – oh goddamnit."

"And you only knew about me because I'm the only person Ichigo ever visited in this city who knew how to deal with these kinds of situations? Well… that's something. But I'm going to need a little more proof than that."

"Proof? Okay. I think I've got something for proof." I took a deep breath, "Uh… Okay, what day is it?"

"…Saturday." Shinji deadpanned.

"No, no! I mean, uh, I came here a week ago… so, uh… Hm… Ichigo saved a parakeet person!"

"Already happened," Urahara said.

"Don Kanonji?"

"That was him last night?" Shinji laughed, "God, that explains so much…"

"He'll meet a Quincy!"

Urahara thought about it, "That… hasn't happened. But you'll need to give me more details."

"Oh, yeah, sure! There should be a fight and a Menos Grande will appear."

"Here? A Menos? What could attract one of those here? I know the area is rich in souls, but for a Menos Grande to appear-" Shinji stopped himself, "Wait, wait… We're not fixed up yet from that Ghost Rider bullshit. If the city's swarmed with Hollows, we're not going to be much use for you, Kisuke."

"Don't worry, Shinji, I have a plan. Now, Poe," I think he used the 'kun' suffix. Maybe he was trying to be nice to me now? "This is important. Do you know what attracted all those Hollows here? And do you know how much time we have left before they appear?"

"Oh, yeah! The Quincy kid got all pissed off and used some Hollow Bait." These dead silences were really getting uncomfortable, everyone!

"…Okay. That answers one question. And the other?"

"Um… I'm not really sure. I think we might have, uh… two days? Maybe tomorrow? There isn't really a solid timeline for this kind of stuff; the author never paid attention to his own work!"

"Alright," Urahara breathed a sigh of relief, "Okay. I think I can come up with a plan. If we know it's coming, we should be able to work something out in time to–" A growling, twisted howling noise ripped through the air quickly followed by a wave of sickening feelings. "Shit!"

"I'll help!"

"You've helped enough!" Urahara looked at me, "You…" he stopped himself, "No… There's no way you could have known it would be today, could you? Shinji!"

"Yeah?" the voice from the phone came back.

"Are you or any of the Visored healed up enough to help today?" he pleaded.

There was a quietness followed by a hesitant, "I can go. But Hachi's out. Love an' Rose, too. Lisa can go, but Hiyori's gonna be stuck holding the down fort with Mashiro. Uh… I think Kensei might be up for it."

"That will have to do." Urahara turned to head out the door. "There's an Asauchi in the storehouse. Grab it. That'll be your weapon for now. Drive around if you have to, but take down every Hollow you see."

…Oh no. In a strange way, this explained a lot. In the anime, in the original manga, Urahara never really got scared or stressed unless Aizen was directly involved. When the Hollows attacked en masse, he was not afraid. And why would he be? I'd always thought it was because he was a Captain. I'd always thought it was because he was so powerful that a couple of Hollows wouldn't be much of an issue for him to deal with at all.

But that wasn't true, was it?

The sheer number of Hollows summoned by the bait, what Uryu brought down on Karakura was not enough for any one Captain to deal with. Or two for that matter. It would take a squad of trained professionals to deal with the majority of the Hollows off-screen. A squad of Captain-class Shinigami capable of moving quickly and efficiently in a sizable group – Moreover, they would have to be beaten without garnering the attention of the Soul Society or Aizen, so they would need to defeat most of these Hollows with abilities the Soul Society could not necessarily track.

In order to fight a forest fire, they would need their own matches. In order to fight these Hollows, they would need a group of high-powered Captain-class Shinigami with their own slew of Hollow abilities. And in canon, that was what Urahara had. In canon, why would Urahara worry when he had all of it under control from the start? He would never have to show his hand or use any specific abilities that could be traced back to him. And he had a reliable group of allies to take care of the incoming Hollow scourge.

And it was this reliable group of allies that the Ghost Rider, in three minutes, all but totally disabled. Though this was impressive, we now faced a grim dilemma. The Ghost Rider could not face all these Hollows at once, not in the three minutes he would be active. And if Aizen knew about the Ghost Rider, he may very well try to steal that power. Why wouldn't he? The man was a megalomaniac. He kidnapped Orihime for less!

But we faced a new and terrible issue. With no forces available except what was in the immediate vicinity, since I had effectively caused more destruction than should have been possible in only a week of being here… the buck fell to me to fix the issue. I offered to help, sure. But, "Wait a second, let's think about this! I can't fight!"

"If you want to help, then do something. If you can't fight, then die distracting the Hollows. You wouldn't have that power of yours if you lacked the ability to use it at all." Even with his back turned to me, Urahara's voice carried, "Shinji… good luck."

"Yeah, yeah. I got it…" The phone clicked as Shinji hung up. I looked up in time to watch Urahara disappear.

Shunpo, I categorized, a high-speed movement technique akin to teleportation.

In almost any other situation, I'd be envious.

-x-

One Foot on the Platform

OR: One Foot on the Train

End-05