Title: I Swear It
Characters: Kira/Gin
Rating: R/NC-17 (Blood, forced sex, con/dubcon)
Spoilers: Soul Society arc.
Summary: Kira thinks back over his relationship with Gin.
Word Count: 500 exactamundo
A/N: Just a lil' thing I wrote on the back of a flyer while going insane at work today. It ended up being just fewer than 500 words so added a few to make it even.
Prompt: 177 – Old Prompts Revisited / 083 Speechless (No dialogue) – For Slash The Drabble on LJ
My parents wanted me to be a Shinigami. That was their final wish for me before they died - I swore I would do anything to fill it.
And then that night where the huge Hollow came during training, I was the only one of the four shinigami who was scared to die, the only one who cried out in fear. The tears I shed that night were poured out hundreds of times in shame in front of my parents' grave.
I would be the best Shinigami I could and if death came again, I would face it without fear – I swore it.
But something inside me was now empty. I felt myself lose my smile and felt my heart start to wither.
Then I became a Shinigami, my parents' wish was filled. And with that now being gone as well, a new emptiness.
When I entered 5th Division, Ichimaru-fukutaichou took an interest in my training. He would spend hours with me – teaching me everything, encouraging me, praising me, and paying attention to me.
It made the emptiness start to fill.
I remember the night he first took me into his bed. Whispering in my ear how he desired me - even as the pain ripped through my body. He licked up my blood and tears and afterwards told me that he would always want me.
I could have left that night and gone back to my room.
I stayed that night, and many nights after.
He asked me to be his fukutaichou. He said that I was the only one he would ever want, that I was all he ever needed. I soaked in those words that night as he soaked in my blood that pooled on the floor.
My heart was filling again after being so long asleep.
Ichimaru's wish was for me to become strong, like him. I sweated and bled for it every day on the training field. After I was finished, he would carry me to his bed, stripping off my clothes as he praised me, my blood flowing with the same cadence as his compliments, the feeling of rape burning into my body like the feeling of his praise searing into my soul.
I always was behind him, but he always looked back for me. Each time he glanced at me, I knew that this was where I belonged. I knew that each time he was looking back, it was not to make sure I was still following, but to say that he still wanted me to follow.
And then I would smile for him. I would smile only for him.
He was the cornerstone of my existence. He was the blade that was whittling away the useless chaff around my soul.
And then he was gone. He did not look back. And I was left.
I was left half formed and half alive. No smiles remained.
His wish for me was to be strong, and I swore to do anything to fill it.