"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart." ~Hellen Keller
Ichigo Kurosaki.
"I don't want to win like this."
Even now, with my body crippled and breaking from the inside out, you still refuse to grant me even the slightest satisfaction of doing what I want.
"That thing that destroyed your leg...It wasn't me."
Don't you see, boy? It doesn't matter now. I've already lost.
"Cut off my leg, cut off my arm. That is the only way to make this a fair fight."
"Fair" is out of the question, because nothingness cannot be helped. Not anymore.
I attempted to move my body, but it felt heavy, like stone. How hopeless. I was sand, being blown away by just the gentlest of winds. How shameful. I was falling apart, litteraly, as my internal organs were damaged beyond repair. The girl was standing a short distance away, like she wasn't afraid to be close. Like she didn't care how dangerous I was. Her face had not a trace of fear on it, and she stood tall, purposeful. To one of sound mind, the act would seem foolish. But that bold and fearless girl never did care. She had determination in her eyes. I remembered how she would speak of this thing called a "heart", like it was something humans could just hold and see in the palm of their hand. How odd it sounded back then, in Las Noches. How pointless and pathetic is seemed. She'd do anything, just to assist her comrades.
"You're passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love."
I'd heard it before; it was some human saying that kept pitiful hearts hopeful. But at this moment, it had deemed itself appropriate. The finest part of pure love...if there was one thing I'd use to describe her, it would be that. The finest part of pure love. She seemed to be the purest of all the ones who had ventured to Hueco Mundo. She didn't flinch at the sound of my voice, or even lose her calmed composure.
"Tell me, girl. Are you still afraid of me?"
I held out my hand, wanting to feel that steady rhythm of her "heart" once more. Her ginger hair danced in the wind, the same wind that was leisurely blowing each atom of my unstable body into the weary ocean of the never ending air. Her eyes were wide- not with fear, but with understanding, and a deep feeling of care that I had never come close to comprehending. There were still so many things I wanted to understand, but couldn't. Why was it that I could never understand it? Not once in my life had I ever been faced with such a ludicrous idea as this one of a "heart". She and her comrades had made it all this way, because of some fragile and delicate belief in "heart". In the end, I believe that girl was right. Absurd, it really was.
"Truly, I'm not."
She lifted her hand to reach mine, and the second she made contact, my fingers began to dissolve with the air as well. She didn't mean harm, she just wanted one last touch. Strange how one can develop such feelings for someone they were once held captive by. But still, in that fraction of a second that our two hands met, I felt something in the depths of my chest, something I recognized as the smallest bit of warmth. I had never felt such a lively and pulsing warmth before. It was true. She was a heart all by herself.
And it was then that I finally realized. It had been right before my eyes, all along. In the very palm of my hand...was a heart.