The world crashed upon him in a wave of pain, and phantom limbs, for they were definitely phantom and gone, long gone, they screamed in agony.

He bit back the wash of terror that enveloped him and opened his eyes.

Seireitei seemed a little distorted. A thin, murky film descended across his vision, unbidden tears swimming in his eyes. Seireitei seemed a little, different. No, it was different. Colors, shapes, textures all blended together into one continuous painting of destruction, death and despair.

Ah.

He had lost.

Lost.

Defeated.

Broken.

He was dying.

Everything hurt.

There was a hole where something had once been, but he had barely the mental faculties to recognize what that could have been, and Senbonzakura, oh his wonderful Senbonzakura, was nowhere to be found.

No.

She had been stolen from him.

Yes, lost.

He would have idly wished to speak with her once more, if he had even the strength left to idly wish, but even that seemed to be seeping out of his bones and trickling to the floor in a growing dark red puddle.

There was a reason, he thought.

A reason?

A reason that his eyes had opened again. There was something that kept him here.

What?

What was it?

Something that tied him here. Something.

Something.

Some thing.

Some one.

Rukia.

Renji.

He panicked.

That face, that rotting, used-to-be-beautiful face haunted him, swam in his vision and taunted him.

She's dead.

He's dead.

They're all dead.

You failed them.

He tried to reach out to them, tried to extend almost-ghostly, non-existent fingers out to touch, to sense, to correct, but there was nothing.

His body was gone.

His spirit was leaving.

He felt powerless.

He was powerless.

It was a despair that he could probably have tried to attempt to describe, but everything, everything was leaving. He had probably once felt this sense of despair, but thinking about when that could have been was just impossible.

Thinking was impossible.

Doing anything was impossible.

Impossible.

Just impossible.

He heard the slow, steady drip drop splatter as he colored the ground with his life, every second drawing closer to the end.

But no.

He needed to know.

Needed to know what?

If they were dead?

If they were hurt?

No. He needed to know that they were alive, that they would live, that he had not killed them with his incompetence and recklessness and powerlessness.

The world swam again, but this time he fought it, fought it with what little still remained in him as he remained stuck to and supported by the crater that he just knew was going to be his final resting place.

And such a poor, bitter final resting place it was going to be.

He needed to know.

His lip cracked,

the world heaved,

and the skies were split open.

He could not have cared less, still straining to produce the tiniest bit of power with which to sense something, anything, them, but a pair of feet stopped in front of him.

Sandal-clad, sock-wearing feet.

Slowly, slowly, slowly, he dragged his eyes up from staring at the blurred crater, tried to drag them up to his face, but that was three feet too far.

Answers.

Even if he could not see this person's face, he could get answers.

Orange haired, I-just-got-here answers, but still answers.

His voice sounded weak even to himself, but the fact that he was hearing something was a triumph, he had not thought it to be possible mere minutes, seconds, iota ago.

"…are Rukia…," he hated the way he sounded, like he was going to crack and collapse and end, "…and Renji alive…?"

He heard the pause, imagined he felt the unwillingness, and begged to be lied to.

Please.

"Yeah. They're fine. They're alive."

Thank you.

"…I see…," thank you, thank you, "Good…"

He could barely hear anything, barely see anything, could barely care anymore, but he had to, had to, had to…

Had to say something.

He had had responsibilities. Things he needed to do, duties he needed to fulfill, people he needed to protect.

And so, as the last drops of life dripped their way to the floor, he begged.

Begged, as the rain drops trickled down his face.

Begged, as the very last of his pride gave way in front of a greater purpose.

Begged, he begged the very person he had once tried to kill.

Protect all that I love.

Protect all that is dear to me.

Please.

His eyes closed.

The world swam, stood still,

and stopped.

A\N: Inspired by 512. That was an amazingly emotional chapter. Props to KT.