Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its affiliates. Anything that you recognise is property of its respective owners. Any relations to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.
Base/s: Bleach
Title: Lone Prairie
Summary: As he fingered the unfamiliar gun in his hands, Ichigo Kurosaki wondered when exactly everything had gone so very wrong.
Music used for inspiration: Dead Man's Gun – Ashtar Command, Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie – William Elliot Whitmore, Far Away – Jose Gonzalez (Red Dead Redemption OST)
A/N: Song URL here (take the brackets out) : www(.)youtube(.)com/watch?v(=)0wfNjf1cWRs&feature(=)related
Ichigo felt his chest heave as he curled his body smaller and smaller, trying to fit as much of himself behind the battered store counter as he could.
His hands trembled around the heavy, rough stock of the revolver and his breath came in pants. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, sending his nerves and thoughts into overdrive. An eerie silence was layered thick over the little town, save for his own breathing and the wind whipping up motes of dust like a cliché. Even the horses were quiet, having been screaming and baying when the first shots had been fired.
He shifted, his knees seizing up and he heard the chink of his spurs against the wooden floorboards.
He fumbled with the bullets on his belt, slotting them into their chambers, ready to spit death at his whim. The sound of metal against metal seemed loud and final. He took a shuddering breath and slotted the cylinder into its place, almost wincing at the click.
He was sure the men across the street from him were doing the same thing. That thought both comforted him and made bile rise in his throat. He hoped at least, that they were just as nervous as he was, just as scared. That someone, somewhere on the other side, was hearing his own breathing deafen him and was trying to reload his gun as quietly as he could.
Despite the heat of the noonday sun, beating down on the little town, his hands felt cold, while his cheeks were on fire. He shivered like it was snowing outside and he tensed his muscles, stopping the quakes.
"That's no way to go."
His head snapped up, and he looked into a single dark eye, the other was obscured by a patch. He opened his mouth to speak but never got the chance.
"You have to remember that it's them or you, and I'd damn well prefer it be them."
Ichigo hesitated before speaking.
"Kenpachi..." he trailed off, not sure how to say what he wanted to.
"What?" the big man grunted, sneaking a peek out of the shattered window.
"How do you do it?" the teen asked.
The big man paused before resuming his scouting.
"I just told ya, it's them or me. I make sure it's them. That's all there is to it." He said.
Ichigo looked down, not really liking the advice.
Kenpachi sighed.
"Look kid, go find Wolf. He'll look after ya."
Ichigo wanted to protest but complied, crouching as to keep himself in cover and ran as well as he could along the length of the store. Still keeping low, he exited and shot towards the shelter of the abandoned wagon, his back hitting it with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs. He gathered his courage and bolted for the open doorway of the general store, flinging himself behind the splintered counter.
He pushed himself down and hurried along the counter, stopping beside a big man who was reloading his shotgun. The man they called Wolf was a huge man and as hairy as they came, but gentle enough once you got past his fearsome exterior.
He glanced at the boy next to him before resuming loading the cartridges into the two long barrels of his gun, stowing the loose ammunition in a pocket of the large, battered duster he wore.
"Hey kid." He greeted absently in his usual guttural growl.
"Wolf." Ichigo greeted, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. "Kenpachi said to come over here."
Wolf grunted.
"I bet he did. You seen?"
Ichigo gave him a dry look he didn't know he could muster.
"If I had been, you would've sure as hell known about it."
Wolf chuckled.
"True."
Ichigo looked at Wolf. They had thought about naming him Dog, but decided it didn't due the big man justice. He was tense, his muscles tight against the battered, trail dust stained coat that hid his bulk. Ichigo could sense it too. It was like a rope, stretched to breaking point, a knife digging into the frayed edge, waiting to snap.
Wolf propped his shotgun over the edge of the broken window and brought his eye to it. He waited.
Ichigo brought his own gun to bear and fell still and in that moment, the world held its breath.
A head popped up and on instinct, he pulled the trigger. The gun bucked in his hand, and two shots impacted somewhere over on the other side of the street. Ichigo chanced a look. There, on the front facade of the blacksmith, was a lurid blood splatter, a trail of it smeared down as the man had been kicked back by the force of the shots and slid down the wall.
Ichigo fought his feelings down and lined up his next shot. The man, coughing and trying to crawl away barely felt it when the third bullet entered his body, cutting his life away.
And with that, hell descended onto the little town Ichigo couldn't care to remember the name of.
The shrill whine of bullets ricocheting off rock overlaid the dull crack of pistol and rifle fire. The dry boom of Wolf's shotgun provided the bass for their music, while the screams and cries of men completed the melody.
As Ichigo popped his head up while reloading his gun again, a shot impacted in the wall behind him, sending splinters raining down on them. He swore and downed a man who was about to fire his rifle. He dropped the weapon as he died, leaving it glinting in the sun, the pool of blood it was laying in not detracting from its brightness.
He heard a growl from beside him as Wolf unleashed a double shot, sending a sniper falling from the roof to land with a dull thud on the dusty road.
The fell into a routine; he fired, he killed, he reloaded, he fired, he killed, he reloaded.
Then, all of a sudden, there was a spray of blood in his peripheral vision and the sight of something big falling next to him.
"Saijin!" he cried, fearing the worst.
He heard swearing, which was a good sign.
The huge man levered himself up.
Ichigo holstered his weapon, rushing to his comrades aid. The bullet had entered his stomach, most likely through a weak spot in the cover he was using. Ichigo felt dread creep its icy fingers up his spine.
"Shit, shit, shit." He swore, looking around for something, anything to slow the bleeding.
"Relax kid," Wolf grunted, holding a red stained hand to his belly. "I'll be fine."
"But-!" Ichigo began to protest but was cut off by an explosion.
"Fuck!" he swore after taking a quick look, "They've got fire bottles."
Komamura grimaced.
"Where'd they hit?" he asked and Ichigo chanced a look over the counter, a shot almost took his head off and he hurriedly withdrew his head.
"The doctors I think."
Wolf spat out a curse.
"That's Juushiro! I don't know who else is with him." He winced and tightened the hold on his gun. "Go on, go to them."
"I can't leave you!" Ichigo pretested, angry.
"The hell you can't!" Komamura snarled, "They need you more than me, I'm tougher than I look." He cracked a grin which Ichigo returned. It was an inside joke, that they had yet to meet a man as physically intimidating as Saijin Komamura, save Kenpachi, who was in a league of his own.
"Alright. Cover me." Ichogo said firmly.
Wolf nodded, hauling himself to the window again. Ichigo closed his eyes as he saw the bloody smear his friend left.
"On three." The big man said, his eyes locking with the teen. Ichigo just nodded, not ready for words and already in position.
"One, two,"
Ichigo knew that this was probably going to be the last time he saw his friend alive. He would bleed out from a wound like that in around fifteen minutes at the least.
He nodded once, his eyes threatening to prickle.
"Three."
Komamura swung his gun up with a roar and opened fire, firing and reloading faster than Ichigo had ever seen. He wasn't trying to conserve ammunition anymore, they both knew it was pointless.
Ichigo threw himself out of his cover and made a mad sprint for the doctors. He weaved in and out of cover, occasionally firing a shot or two.
Just as he was about to throw himself from the relative safety of an overturned wagon, another fire bottle arced though the air and struck the wooden panelling of the doctors shop.
"No!" he shouted, starting forward but being forced to retreat when gunfire sprayed over his head.
The flames had engulfed the facade and were blackening the window panes. Another bottle crashed into the building, feeding the already ferocious fire.
Ichigo watched helplessly as an explosion rocked the building, blowing out the remaining glass and showering him with splinters.
Choking back a cry, he broke from the wagon that was about to give way and used his shoulder to break down the door to another shop. He skidded as he threw himself into cover, reloading his gun.
He panted, his eyes feverish.
"Kid,"
Ichigo didn't notice someone calling him until their hand was on his shoulder. He whipped around, his six shooter point in front of him. It was batted away.
It took a moment before Ichigo realised who he was staring at.
"Toshiro?"
The young man scowled, hefting his rifle onto a shoulder as he stood behind a sturdy column.
"Toshiro, the doctors-!"
"Ah." The white haired male held up a hand to stall the teens speaking and Ichigo looked at him with anger.
He focussed for a moment before squeezing the trigger and the powerful gun loosed a single shot. A strangled cry was heard above the noise and then a thud as a corpse fell from a rooftop. Toshiro turned around to face the teen, his eyes shadowed.
"I know."
Ichigo couldn't bare the stony look on the others face.
"Don't you care?" he asked plaintively.
Toshiro's eyes flashed.
"Of course I do." He snapped and Ichigo flinched. "I just don't let it weigh me down now. There'll be time enough for grieving later."
He blew out a breath and wiped his forehead on his sleeve, the yellow neckerchief tired around his neck soiled with dust and blood.
The steady boom of Wolf's gun was still audible, although its frequency was getting slower.
"Wolf's been hit."
Hitsugaya's mouth thinned.
"Stomach." Ichigo said dully before he could ask.
Hitsugaya spat out a curse.
"How long?" he asked, dreading the answer.
"About ten minutes."
Toshiro closed his eyes. There was a notable absence of gunfire from their side, but the rhythmic thunder of the shotgun was still playing the bass.
"We'll have to leave him."
Ichigo looked at the man in horror.
"We can't!" he almost shouted, disbelieving.
"We have to!" Hitsugaya exploded, raising his voice. The teen looked faintly taken aback. "If we don't we will die. As much as it pains me to admit it, Wolf's as good as dead already."
Ichigo looked at him in incredulity.
"You stone cold bastard." He whispered.
Toshiro's mouth twitched into what may have been a grim, humourless smile.
"That's what they all say. I think Shunsui and the Prince are holed up in the saloon, can you get a message to 'em?"
Ichigo held back angry words and tears as he nodded stiffly, quickly penning a note which he shoved inside an old bottle, hurriedly emptied of its contents.
"Cover me." He said and didn't wait for the others affirmation.
Using the covering fire his comrade laid down for him, he judged the throw and pulled his arm back, letting the bottle fly. It hit home, careening through the window of the saloon and shattering.
Ichigo drew his weapon and put down two men before he could even blink, as the white haired male dropped three with successive shots of his right powered rifle.
Suddenly, the shorter, older male was sent flying backwards to land with a dull thud as the stick of dynamite exploded, shattering his cover.
"Toshiro!" Ichigo cried out, grasping the others hand and dragging him into cover, terrified of losing another comrade.
To his relief, he groaned and swore.
"Fuck. Where'd the hell they get dynamite?" he asked, wiping his brow free of blood from where a piece of shrapnel cut through his skin.
Ichigo shrugged, keeping his head down and letting relief wash over him.
"The hell if I know."
Before either could say anything more, a bottle crashed into the floor, revealing a hasty message.
Toshiro snatched it up and read it. Ichigo scowled, it wasn't his fault he couldn't read.
He watched as the young man's face folded into a frown and he snarled, crumpling the paper.
"Byakuya says Shunsui was hit in the leg, he can move but only just." He threw the paper into a corner in anger, "Motherfucker." He cradled his head in his hands.
Ichigo closed his eyes.
"We're still alive, that's got to mean something." He said, bitter optimism lacing his voice.
Toshiro looked up and then glanced out of the window.
"I guess we'll just have t-"
Almost in slow motion, Ichigo saw his eyes widen and he threw himself forward, tackling the orange haired teenager. There was a dull thud and Toshiro's body jumped. He hit the floor, pinning the taller male with his weight. Dark, red blood stained their clothes. Ichigo, horrified, turned him over and sighed in relief when the other gave a cough and cracked open an eye.
"Stupid boy, p-pay attention next time." Hitsugaya said, sitting up and clutching his shoulder. "Get me some bandages, they're in the corner. I managed to grab some."
Ichigo did as he was told, and watched as Toshiro bandaged himself up. It was a little crude and in no way neat, but it would do.
Toshiro hefted his rifle again and they took their positions and picked their targets. Ichigo fell into a painful whirlwind of action.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was only sixteen for god sake. The new boy, the greenhorn, the kid. He wasn't supposed to be fighting for his life. But he was, and the people who were like family to him were getting picked off, one by one.
A sob wrenched itself from his throat as he kept firing.
He knew Toshiro must have heard it but he didn't much care, he knew the cold man wouldn't say anything.
Then, drifting across the ravaged town and calming his beating heart, came the words of a familiar song. It was a song all cowboys knew, one that was like the heart of the Wild West itself. And he knew that slow, deep bass that shaped the words.
O bury me not on the lone prairie,
He heard Toshiro draw in a sharp breath, but neither of their hands stopped moving, used cartridges hitting the floor in a cascade.
"O bury me not on the lone prairie
Where coyotes wail and the wind blows free
and when I die don't bury me
beneath the western sky on the lone prairie.
Ichigo bit back a sob as his fingers deftly reloaded his gun. As he did so, he heard another two voices join Wolf's. It was shaky and filled with pain, it's partner cultured and steady. He heard the familiar high pitched crack of Byakuya's sniper rifle cut though the dust stained air. Shunsui's twin revolvers spat bullets with lethal speed.
On the other side of the street, the Marshal paused in his firing as he listened. One of the deputies cocked his head to the side, his silver grey hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and dirt. His gun hung from his suddenly still fingers.
"What are they doing?" he whispered softly, as if he didn't want to miss the ethereal moment.
The Marshal swallowed, his throat tight. A shiver went down his spine and he sucked in an involuntary breath. His brown eyes were far away.
"They're singing." He whispered.
"O bury me not on the lone prairie."
These words came soft and painfully
Ichigo bit his lip as his fingers ached. Another voice joined the rough choir. It was course and gravelly, matching the man who sang the words. Kenpachi clenched his teeth around his trademark cigar as bullets were exchanged. The recoil bruised his shoulder but he paid it no mind.
From the pallid lips of the youth who lay
On his dying bed at the break of day.
Ichigo listened and his breath caught in his throat when the man next to him began to sing softly but carrying across the wind, with more emotion than he had ever shown in all the time Ichigo had known him. Lips formed the words and he sang almost absently, but with a passion that made the teens chest heave.
but we buried him there on the lone prairie.
Where the rattlesnakes hiss and the wind blows free
In a narrow grave, no one to grieve.
beneath the western sky on the lone prairie.
These people, these outlaws, were his family. They were men who belonged nowhere and everywhere, who lived with passion and detachment. They were good men and they were bad men, they were wanted and feared and loved. They were blessed sinners, and Ichigo wouldn't trade them for anything. He barely noticed it when his own voice joined theirs and his eyes blazed.
"O bury me not on the lone prairie."
These words soft and painfully
From the pallid lips of the youth who lay
On his dying bed at the break of day.
Then for one glorious, heartbreaking moment, they were united. The living, the dead, the wounded and the exhausted. Ichigo imagined the dead were singing with them, all the men who lived by the wild codes and were children of the west.
Then, like a final bell, the rhythmic boom of the double barreled shotgun stopped, and the moment was broken.
On his dying bed at the break of day.
End
I played Red Dead Redemption and it was amazing. The dong used is featured in there, but really is a traditional western song. But I still don't own it.
Please, this is my first time writing anything remotely Western, so I'd like to know how I did!