(Author's Notes: Ohkay, so Tatsuki's kind of fun to write about. Basically, there's so much IchiRuki and HitsuHina floating around that I couldn't help myself. It won't all be depressing like this, I promise, okay? There'll be humor as well as angst and action and whanot. Sound good? Soyeah.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any part of Bleach, Tatsuki, et cetera.)
Rain dripped from the roof. It was drizzling, the late summer air hot and wet, with flashes of lightning glittering through the sky. She was leaning the doorframe, watching the storm stir. The grey light lit up water streaming down her hair, dripping and dancing into her eyes.
She wasn't depressed. She wouldn't let herself be. Looking out over the soaked pavement, she was still, a rock in the dismal sky tears.
She wasn't angry. Why should she be?
Tatsuki was lonely.
Ever since Ichigo had disappeared, she'd been confused. It hadn't bothered her too much for a while. But suddenly she was abandoned. Rukia, Orihime, Ichigo – they'd gone somewhere and she couldn't bring them back. And to make matters worse, he was a Shinigami.
A soul reaper.
A death god.
She hardly knew what it meant. It was only those black robes; how he was gone all the time. Most of it she'd guessed. And by the way he'd reacted, Tatsuki had been right. Why wouldn't he tell her? Why was she suddenly outside his trust? She'd been his best friend for so long, since almost before his mother died. What had she done?
Her shoulder slipped a little lower down the slick wall, eyes downcast. All she wanted was his thoughts, the truth, and for her efforts she had received nothing but silence. For punching him, nothing but a cool goodbye. Then Rukia and Orihime disappeared off the face of the earth, and Tatsuki was totally isolated.
She sighed and stood straight. Her feet moved to carry her home; her mind became blissfully quiet. The things that had happened to her were muted in the monochrome, raining world. And as she meandered down the empty street, becoming steadily more drenched, she listened for the keen scream she knew would come. Huge monsters, hollows, with holes in their chests and masks on their faces. Then they'd go quiet as some blade was buried in their skulls. Her understanding was minimal.
It didn't matter.
There was nothing much she could do.
She stopped and sat on the street curb, feet in the gutter, slumped over with her head low. It was this feeling of helplessly, knowing half of the truth and having no way to learn the rest. Her eyes closed as the sounds of the storm built around her. Exhaustion deadened her limbs as she felt herself drifting into a restless sleep. Somewhere she wondered why she couldn't get up and keep walking, but she left the thought behind.
So she simply slept, left on the corner, alone.
Alone.