Takes place entirely within Manga Ch 349, ergo massive spoilers. A bit fatalistic, but I think it's safe to assume Ishida didn't expect to survive that encounter.
Disclaimer: Only Bleach I own is NaOCl.
They say your life flashes before your eyes, but for Ishida it wasn't true. For him the experience was distant and analytical while retaining all the portentous meaning. He didn't see his own life; he saw his friends. Not their lives, and not their deaths, but some indistinct time afterward. He thought of what he might say about them, how he might remember them, if they were gone.
Before his body even struck the ground he was composing words for Kuchiki-san. Kuchiki Rukia was a lovely paradox. The more intently she sought to conceal her troubles lest they harm her friends, the more determined her friends became to help her.
Ishida crouched, fumbling through the pouch at his waist to find the right syringe. He stared at the little cylinder in consternation before thinking to use his teeth to pull the cap off the needle. Sado-kun was easy, too. The dichotomy of that gentle heart in that strong body was poetry that nearly wrote itself.
A sudden burst of fear stopped Ishida's hand as he brought the needle near the fold of his elbow. The median cubital vein -- his father's voice came unbidden -- is a superficial vein of the upper arm and common site for venipuncture. Risk of hitting the brachial artery instead was low, but Ishida knew it would be a fatal mistake. The anticoagulant would pump right out the stump at the end of his arm and exsanguination would soon follow.
He forced himself to take a deep breath, to allow habit and muscle memory to take over, and to think of something else. As he pushed the needle through skin, Ishida considered Abarai Renji. Abarai was brash, loud, reckless, and irritating, but he was here. The times Abarai and Inoue had spoken could probably be counted on one hand, but he was here to help save her. He had been by Ishida's side in the fight against Szayel Aporro -- a fight neither of them could have survived alone. Renji was absolute proof that character mattered more than personality.
"Ishida!!"
The sheer terror in Inoue's voice cut him to the quick. Inoue Orihime... Even if he had been born blind, Ishida would still think that she was the most beautiful creature he had ever known. From the first moment he saw her, he thought she was the physical embodiment of light, warmth, and happiness. He had been stunned to learn that she was an orphan, and the brother who cared for her dead, too. Somehow he had always pictured her with a large and loving family. He had never imagined that she could be even more alone than he was.
"Don't worry. I've already applied an anesthetic and stopped the bleeding. Inoue-san, you take care of Kurosaki." He tried to smile for her -- he would have liked to smile for her, one last time -- and regretted that it came out a painful grimace.
She didn't reply and Ishida had not expected her to. Her face was a brittle mask, eyes fixed wide with shock, horror, and constantly streaming tears as she knelt by Kurosaki's side. Kurosaki... What else could anyone say about him? Kurosaki was a hero. Ishida could practically feel the visceral longing Inoue radiated as she stared at the shinigami's body.
Kurosaki was a hero. Kurosaki was... loved.
The sword form of Seele Schneider flared to life in Ishida's hand. Lucky. Lucky it was his left hand gone. He never had thought to practice wielding the light blade in his off hand.
It was a shame. Ishida knew himself too well. His subconscious had provided an excellent defense mechanism, yet his rational mind insisted on dissecting it. Thinking of what he would say for his friends was only a distraction, a way to keep his mind from realizing what they might say about him. It seemed that "noble in defeat" would be the best he could hope for. How disappointing. Nothing to be done for it now, of course.
Crashing waves of black reiatsu broke against his body as he charged toward the fourth Espada again.
