Sometimes she wondered what it was about him. It wasn't his pitch dark hair, almost as black as hers; it wasn't his muscular body; it definitely wasn't the arrogance in him, which was quite the opposite of what she assumed she liked. It was something different, and she couldn't think of an answer. As cliché as it might sound, he was simply the only man who made her happy.
His charm was far from what a girl's dream might be, but it worked its magic on her. She smiled mockingly when a memory of how proudly he pounced around showing off his battle scars popped into her mind. Oh, yes. He definitely wasn't ashamed of them.
She wondered and wondered, but never dared to venture into his personal bubble that was only to be interrupted by his pink-haired friend or a sword of his opponent, but not necessary of enemy's. However, she didn't want to hold his hand, to squeeze him so hard he lost his breath, and kissing wasn't quite the thing she wanted to do either. She simply dreamed to hear the coarse clash of their zanpakuto in a fearless battle once again.
And when the ultimate day came, everyone knew only one of the two are going to come back from the bloodshed. Only one is going to savour the victory. Only one is going to remember the other. Only one is going to bring back the two days that their sharp blades met, two moments that they found out the meaning of fighting. And she knew all along which one of them it was going to be, for she decided a long time ago.
She admired him. Among the ripped skin, purple bruises and red ground, yes – she loved him. That's why, she was going to let him live. She was going to break the curse he put on himself; she was going to fight until he stopped restricting himself. She wanted him to go back to his past self, who enjoyed every single second of fighting without locking his solemn powers away to be able to fight for longer. She wanted him to survive.
Suddenly agony tingled in her chest, his blade pricking right through it, soaking in her crimson blood. Just when she saw his eyes shining in excitement, she realized it. Those psychotic eyes; that mad, crazy smile; the joy in fighting. That's what she loved about him, but when she finally understood, her body laid paralyzed, unable to move, to force her feeble voice out.
It was already too late to say it.