It was the single worst moment of Orihime's life. The alley pavement was cold beneath her, the dark gray skies overhead surrendering to the early evening. The frosty air was sharp on her skin, and there was quite a bit of skin exposed.
He shoulda took ya when he was alive, Hichigo said, his smirk inches from her face, blue tongue drawing up the side of her cheek. He was stupid like that.
It was followed by a chilling cackle only the Hollow could make and it shook Orihime to her core as no other sound ever had. She wanted to tell him Ichigo would never do such a thing, that he'd given his life to protect her from his darkest side.
Instead she lay immobile, the cold biting into her as the Hollow lay on top of her, and Ichigo lay close by her.
Dead.
Nearby also lay her hairpins, bent beyond use.
They had become unclasped during her fight against the Hollow, trying futilely to move out of his reach, only succeeding in losing the hairpins and putting off what seemed to be inevitable. Whether it was the time-worn exhaustion of fighting off the Hollow after trying to heal Ichigo or the sheer paralyzing terror of the monster on top of her, she was too fatigued to fight on.
To anyone passing by, she would have appeared as simply lying there in the ice and snow, shivering, tears brimming her eyes in fear and loss, rumpled and pinned. No one would see the grinning, mocking Hollow whose hand had worked up her school skirt to her hip, the pointed tongue dry-cold on her face.
One hand only, as the other was still tethered by Ichigo's dead grasp on his wrist. It slowed down Hichigo's intent, but it didn't stop him.
Orihime's strength was gone, all fought out of her, exhaustion setting in as a cold pain replaced her will. She knew she should have fled when Ichigo told her to – demanded for her to leave him during his battle against his own Hollow – but she hadn't. She'd stayed and hoped, and prayed, as always.
And Ichigo had lost.
Her attempt to revive him had cost her, putting her too near Hichigo.
She wasn't sure she would have done anything differently if she could relive the last half an hour of Ichigo's life.
But she knew she would have been quicker.
Renji and his team had ousted every Hollow in Karakura Town by the time the sun set early in the cold skies. It was an exceptionally frigid night, even for February. It wasn't like Ichigo to ignore his Soul Society communicator, and it put Renji in a foul mood.
"Head on back!" he called to the three shinigami in his team. "We're done!"
"Yes, Vice Captain Abarai!" they shouted back to him.
He let them go on, still waiting for the last drizzle of reiatsu trickling from the other side of town to fade. It was familiar, oddly so, and when it hovered at the threshold of living and death, he decided to check up on it.
Rukia was late – actually hadn't arrived at all – and Renji wondered if that had something to do with Ichigo ignoring his calls. Didn't matter, Renji told himself, but back-up was back-up.
He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, pinpointing the drift of reiatsu coming from an alley. It was a unique form, a combination, and it made him wary. He alighted to the alley as the darkening skies threw shadows into the lanes, hiding movement. The spiritual powers turned, twisted in the spiritual realm, confusing and combining.
Renji's senses sharpened. The threads of reiatsu held more familiarity. And then he heard the muted whimper of a girl, and then it became recognizable.
He landed in the alley, shadows allowing little light, little sight, and saw Ichigo lying on the pavement to one side near the intersection to another lane.
"Kurosaki..." he mumbled, and then leapt there.
Ichigo lay face up and beyond him moved white robes as another form crouched. Renji drew his sword, the sound making the figure turn and look at him.
Hichigo growled when he saw the red-haired shinigami, leaning back from the other side of Ichigo's unmoving body. Renji was about to fire off a string of curses, but another movement made him forget to; unlike the Living, he was perfectly able to see the couple there for who they were.
Ichigo's body had blocked more than the Hollow's form; a feminine figure scrambled to her knees and scurried away, pulling her skirts down as she went, her cries nearly unheard.
Ya ran her off, ya fool! Hichigo yelled at Renji. He leapt to his feet, but didn't get far. Ichigo's hand jerked him to a stop, fingers in an iron grip around the Hollow's wrist. Hichigo laughed an eerie sound. Ya want a go at her, ya gotta wait!
It took Renji a moment to comprehend, partly because he didn't want to – not the dead hand on the Hollow's wrist, not the girl who had just been assaulted and fled.
Hichigo lunged again, jerked to halt again by Ichigo's death-grip. The Hollow screamed a bloodcurdling howl at Renji, straining at Ichigo's restraint on him.
The shock of seeing Ichigo dead and Orihime run off in what was undoubtedly a very bad situation left Renji unmoving for a second.
Then he grabbed Zabimaru tighter and dashed to the tangled Hollow and newly dead body. He stuck the broad edge at the Hollow's throat, letting the tine at the tip pierce through the flesh of the drooling spirit.
"You did this?" he demanded, glancing at Ichigo only for a second. Renji knew death when he saw it.
Cut me loose and we can go find her, Hichigo proposed, yellow eyes glinting evilly. Ill share her with —
Renji let the tine of the sword dig deeper, inching into the throat as if to stop the vulgarity from seeping out.
A black trickle of liquid started down Hichigo's neck. Cut me loose. He shook his arm where Ichigo's dead fingers still clamped. I cant do it myself. Cut me loose!
Ichigo was limp, but his hand was steel-tight around the Hollow's wrist, his last attempt at confining the spirit after what had been his final battle. Beneath his head was Orihime's coat, saturated with blood and reiryoku. Renji glared back at the purely wicked entity that now stood weaponless before him; Ichigo's death had disarmed Hichigo.
"You asshole!" Renji's sword flashed, not to Ichigo's hand, but to the Hollow's arm, the blade severing Hichigo's arm below the elbow.
A look of horror flooded Hichigo. That iron grip of Ichigo's hand on his wrist was all there was left. Both fed off each other spiritually, which was why Hichigo was sword-less as Ichigo lay dying. Now cut from his master, the Hollow was left soulless more so than ever.
Black spouted from the stump at his elbow as he dropped to his knees. He glared up at Renji, cradling his arm. Ya son of a bitch! Ya coulda saved him! Me! Coulda saved me!
"He's dead," Renji said, not sorting through the words spat at him, taking a second to glance to the alley he'd seen Orihime run. "You filthy bastard!"
Coulda been fun, Hichigo sputtered, his words slowing as he slouched, his power draining away. Id of shared her with ya...
Renji kicked him over, his sandal smashing into the leer that with its last ounce of strength professed the desire for destruction that drove the Hollow.
Renji didn't wait for it to die. He ran down the alley after Orihime, listening for any sound, knowing she'd hide if she could. The thought of any attack on her suddenly sickened him, and the image of Hichigo crouching over her renewed that repulsion.
"Orihime!" he called, taking the next corner of the building, knowing she'd be land-bound. "Orihime!"
He searched for several long moments, the dark falling around him – them – as the evening turned to early nightfall. For a long moment he searched, calling, listening. It wasn't until he was quiet for a long moment that he heard her. What he heard wasn't a sound so much as the non-sound of someone holding their breath, choking back tears and pain. He'd only heard that sound a few times.
He searched the crates and dumpsters lining the alley, seeing no movement. This time he spoke in something less than a shout. "Orihime?"
There was a sob in response, one that was restrained.
Renji followed it. Behind a stack of boxes and crates ready for discard, was a shadow sorely out of place in the smelly alley.
Orihime pushed herself further into the crates, pulling her torn blouse closer to her. She was minus her coat, having used it to put under Ichigo's head when she tried to heal him. She tried to hide in the dark as Renji moved a few boxes, crouching to see her better.
His eyes naturally dropped to her torn blouse that she held up with her hand, her other hand pulling her ripped skirt around her knees. Without really looking, he noticed her hairpins were gone, her hair tousled against her wet face.
"Hey, it's okay," he said, knowing it wasn't.
She shook her head, pulling her blouse tighter against her chest, the buttons ripped off. "He killed him..." she sobbed, turning her face from him.
"Are you all right?" Renji knew better than to ask, but it was already said, and in his mind he'd already heard her answer: Of course she was not all right.
She turned her face from him more, drawing her knees up to her chest, this time her cries unchecked against her skirt as she lowered her face to her knees.
The movement left much of her exposed now, and Renji could see bruises forming on her legs and forearms. Against every rule for interacting with the Living, he sheathed his sword and crouched closer toward her. He gathered her close to his chest, her knees angling to one side on the cold pavement, feeling her body, usually supple and inviting, now tense and tight against him.
At least, Renji had always thought Orihime looked supple and inviting. He didn't know that for a fact.
She let herself become surrounded by his arms, face buried in her mussed, damp hair against his robes, her cries muffled as he murmured something – she wasn't sure exactly what – and held her close.
She let the black of his robes envelope her thoughts, dissolving into the dark of the material, wishing she could open her eyes and know the attack had been but a nightmare she would wake from.
Renji's embrace around her changed to block a cold gust of wind that found its way into the alley. "I'm calling for assistance," he told her, letting one arm lower on her. "I'll get this –"
"Don't leave me!" she whispered against him. "Please don't go!"
He felt a new tremble begin through her, one so violent than he knees knocked against the pavement. He shook his head, pulling her closer again. "I won't leave, but I've got to let Soul Society know what's happened."
"Don't tell anyone. Not...not everything."
He felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach at hearing the words, knowing she felt even worse. "I won't."
She sniffed, selfishly leaning deeper into him as if to adhere to his very robes.
"You'll be all right," he said, letting his hand glide up her back, settle over her tousled hair there, knowing it was not the moment to notice its softness, its peachy scent. "I won't leave."
He felt her exhale a shaky breath, felt her subtle nod against him.
"Please don't leave, Renji."
He shifted a glance behind them down the alley to where Ichigo and a very nasty Hollow lay dying.
"I won't leave you alone," he told her, turning back as his communicator beeped. "I promise I won't, Orihime."