#( . you say you're bad at starters bc you dunno where to start... my issue is needing too much to start.

[dethberri]

     THE COOL METAL OF HIS BRACELET DISTRACTED HIM  ,  called to him.  engendered warmth first around his legs, lapping now at his knees and sailing up the length of his body like a tangible, inescapable thrill...  it tugged at him.  like a finger picking a taut thread, it plucked the cords of his throat, pulling from him a sharp but inaudible gasp.

pressed to dive head-first and breathe in the energy encircling him, he examined the discrepancies in both sensation and sound, his newly heightened perception of reality—before hesitation leapt into every nerve, locking up his limbs and quickening his breaths.  it was just as before.  that same profound fear which had carried his battered limbs across a stretch of concrete, sights pinned on the masked creature towering in the distance, the cries of his sister fading into wheezing gasps…

caught to the instinct, to the sharp boundary of the moment, the singular chance one only ever dreamed of receiving, understanding had uncoiled at once, accompanied by an eruption of light which had swept his mind, his mother’s voice in his ears — jarring, but not unwelcome — like dawn finally breaking over the horizon.     in the dead of night, he’d stood alone, its howls echoing in spades until resolve raised his upper lip in a snarl, baring the monster his teeth and belligerence.

string drawn back and elbows braced, he’d FIRED          and nearly blew off his arm.

the scene wrapped around his heart and lungs like a shock-band, adrenaline ripping through him until he fell to his knees, the deafening shriek of the monster still resonating clearly…  for a long moment, kurosaki trembled under the sheer intensity, then closed his eyes and scoffed as what energy gathered in his hands dissipating the instant his focus fell apart.

it really was no use.    days spent practicing and he still had no real understanding of how to even shape the bow ... but he longed for the feel of it in his hands.   wanted, desperately, to wrap his fingers around its phantom grip and welcome the comforting press of security at the back of his mind, somehow familiar as breath and blood.                kurosaki tore off his sweatband and threw it with a frustrated scream.  he hadn’t thought about trying to feel for the presence of his mother in years—and yet, in the stretch of two days, he’d tried more than a dozen times.

his back hit the gravel before he knew it.  staring up at the cloudless sky with a moroseness that was quite unlike him, ichigo threw his arm over his face, scowling.  ❝damn it!❞

@strcngered  —  starter for ishida uryū.