I do not own Bleach
A heart, he never thought he had one. He never believed they were important. That included emotions.
Yet, he yearned for her.
He watched her, his eyes always followed her, cold as they were, he watched her. Protected her.
The moment he realized he would leave the world and never again see her kind beautiful face, he asked her.
"Do I frighten you? Girl."
His hand outstretch toward her. A silent question if she disgusted of him. He had to know.
Why must he know, he knew not. He had never cared about what people may think of him.
It should not be important, yet he had to know.
With the pair of beautiful sad eyes that held so much worries for him, she answered.
"No I don't."
Her emotion was that of an open book. He could tell she did not wish from him to vanish.
The captor he was, the one who had parted her from her love ones and held her captive, she did not hate him.
He felt her fingers trying to gasp his for the last time confirming her word; his fingers started to turn to dust. He would soon turn to nothing. At that moment he realized he had a heart. A heart that yearned for her.
For her approval.
For her desire.
For her touch.
And the fact that she accepted him, not afraid of him made him happy.
"I see," he murmured.
He did have a heart.
The heart that started to want to be accepted and loved by her.
Only if he had realized this earlier.
But he had no regret for he knew she would never forget him. And was happy that the last thing he saw before he parted the world was her face.
He knew she would remember him.
His heart that existed because of her.