AN: Hello There! This is my first attempt at writing in about two years. I had writen another story when I was very young and it was so embarassing I had to take it down. (my friend's story is still up for your enjoyment). This is a semi songfic because I wrote it while listening to the song Coming Home by Skylar Grey (No Diddy!). Sorry if it's confusing, but I had a particular vision for how this story was supposed to play out. Anyway R&R
I do not own Bleach. If I did...Oh the lemons I'd write...
Comming home
It was a war fought too long against foes that shouldn't have been. Byakuya Kuchiki walked the path leading to his manor stoically and proudly, never once betraying the deep wounds he had been dealt. The hair once so carefully tied by his clips was now matted with blood and his captains haori, along with most of his shinigami uniform, had been reduced to cloth strips. He pushed open the magnificent wooden doors displaying his family's wealth, to find two slender arms wrapped around his sore shoulders. His surprise did not last long as he embraced the petite form of his beloved wife Hisana, inhaling her scent; the smell of Home. It had been far too long. "I've been lonely" she whispered, tickling his ear. His embrace around her tightened as a soft "me too" escaped his lips. "come with me" she said smiling her angelic smile "I've prepared a bath for you" their hand still intertwined from their previous embrace Hisana led him to the bath and helped him disrobe. One after the other black strips of fabric fell to the floor. He heart catching in her throat each time a new wound was uncovered. Byakuya dipped into the bath while Hisana sat straddling his back on the lip of the tub. She began pouring hot water over his head an shoulders the steam purging the ache from his bones. "The water is getting cold," Hisana observed after a few minutes had passed, "let me go get-" "no" Byakuya interrupted "just stay" he tilted his head back onto her thigh, his heart content with the lukewarm water.
"I've prepared all your favorites" Hisana half whispered referring to the elaborate spread of food that now laid before them. She had had to use the longer table meant for guests and banquets, although Byakuya silently wished she had chosen the smaller more intimate table. Hisana sat next to her husband and watched him eat. Dignified-he never let show how hungry he was. She was almost in awe of his presence, he had been gone for so long. Surely it was a ghost; a cruel reverie; a dream. It was so surreal that later that night when they made love, it was desperate, clinging, sweaty; both lovers desperately trying to remind the other that it was real; that it was all too real.
The buzzing afterglow faded to black. Silence replaced the heaving breaths; Rain, the sweat. His muscles throbbed and his heart ached. Byakuya Kuchiki slowly raised himself from his kneeling position before his late wife's grave. A hand full of cherry blossoms-her favorite, left on her grave. As the percussion of rain drops drummed out a melancholy beat, one drop found its way to Byakuya's cheek, clinging to his chin, before departing to join the others.