Lullaby
Rukia Kuchiki could not sleep. Her nightmares plagued her every time she closed her eyes, playing the horrible scenes over and over again, threatening her sanity.
Every time she drifted off to sleep, she saw her beloved teacher's face glaring accursedly at her. Kaien's mouth would move, but Rukia could not make out what he was saying. Then they would both be engulfed in flame; Rukia was unable to move, unable to cry out, and unable to escape both the fire and the guilt that burned at her insides like acid everyday.
It always ended like that, with Rukia staring down her greatest sin among the flames. Then her eyes would flutter open for a millisecond as she tried desperately to wake up and pull herself out of Ichigo's closet. But the cold hands of the nightmares would force her eyelids closed once more, and the scene tortured her again.
The vicious cycle must have repeated itself for the twentieth time before Rukia was able to sit up with much difficulty and a strangled sob. But she felt the exhaustion drag her back down to the makeshift bed in the closet.
"Ichi—go…"
Rukia managed to choke out Ichigo's name before she succumbed to the darkness once more. The last thought that crossed her mind before she went back to sleep was that Ichigo probably couldn't hear her anyway, but…
She entered the dream terrified, her heart pounding and her violet eyes squeezed shut. However, after a few seconds of silence, she opened them again.
Kaien-dono was no longer there. In fact, no one was there. Rukia was all alone and surrounded by complete darkness, and she was hanging suspended, as if underwater, in the air, half curled up with her knees pulled up by her chest. She glanced around her, trying to identify any other signs of life. But she was truly alone. Funnily enough, she wasn't scared. The silence wasn't empty and cold but warm and secure. She felt safe and protected, like she was taking shelter underneath a blanket. She gave a little sigh and felt her eyelids lowering like there were fifty-pound weights on them. Maybe now she could finally get some sleep.
But her eyes snapped open wide when a sound broke through the silence. She reached for Sode No Shirayuki, but found that the sword wasn't on her hip as it usually was. She tensed, trying to brace herself for the reoccurring nightmare, sure it had lulled her into a false sense of calm before it came back, its strength ten-thousand fold.
But nothing happened. Rukia still drifted in the air, unharmed, and she was finally able to identify the sound. Someone, some presence unknown and unseen to her, was humming softly. The voice was rough and male; the tune was very simple but immensely beautiful, sweet, and full of emotion. Both song and singer sounded extremely familiar to Rukia, and her eyes closed and her eyebrows knotted as she tried to place them.
Her heart almost stopped beating the song suddenly halted midnote, and the curious force that had previously held her up disappeared. She dropped like a stone, her mouth open in a silent scream.
In the split second before she was sure she would hit the bottom of wherever she was, she heard frantic, running footsteps racing towards her, and after that second the breath was knocked out of her as someone's strong arms caught her. She gasped as her rescuer quickly stopped and stood there, cradling Rukia tightly against his chest. Then the soft voice started humming its song again, content with the balance restored. It was louder than before, and she could feel the reverberations in the chest of whoever was holding her. He was humming for her, she realized with a jolt. She looked up, trying to see his face, but it was cast in shadow, silhouetted against the moon.
"The moon? When did the moon…?"
Rukia blinked once, then twice, and realized where she was. She wasn't in her dream, she wasn't in the closet; she could see the moon outside the window over Ichigo's bed.
"Ichigo…?"
She slowly, hesitantly looked away from the window up at Ichigo, who was reclining against his headboard, holding Rukia exactly like the man in her dream. There were little pools of warmth where his hands curled gently around her shoulders and knees. His eyes were closed, unaware that she was awake.
"Ichigo…?" she whispered in a small voice. He was alert instantly, his autumn-copper eyes fixed on her own violet blue-black. The music stopped. Rukia inhaled sharply, waiting to fall into the darkness again.
But Ichigo's well-muscled arms still held her to him, anchoring her to him, and Rukia's world was unshattered. Nothing had happened; Ichigo had simply stopped humming…Wait…
"That beautiful song…," she thought, "that was…?"
The moon's rays shining through the window cast a light over Ichigo's face, shoulders, and arms. All the scars he'd earned fighting in Soul Society and then Hueco Mundo were illuminated, the healing skin and flesh glowing under the moonlight. Rukia thought he looked like beaten and bruised but infinitely radiant fallen angel.
As soon as the image entered her mind, she forced it out, and her cheeks started to turn a pale pink. She was glad the only source of light was the moon. But then a dark cloud drifted over its face, blocking that light, and the angel was gone, replaced by the Ichigo she knew, the trademark scowl set on his lips, but his eyes were concerned.
"Did I wake you up?" he asked quietly, "I'm sorry."
Rukia couldn't speak. She almost didn't comprehend what he'd just said. Ichigo's warm hands were making her blood stir, and she didn't fully understand why. She and Ichigo were no strangers to physical contact with each other, but this was usually just Rukia beating up Ichigo up when he acted stupidly. But this…this was completely different. It was foreign and exciting and…
After Rukia's lack of response, Ichigo leaned in closer to peer at her face.
"Rukia?"
Rukia started when she realized how quickly the space between them had closed. Suddenly she was able to control her limbs again, and she shifted herself out of Ichigo's arms in a decidedly ungraceful fashion; she found herself kneeling on the bed directly across from him.
Ichigo's arms quickly dropped to his sides, but he continued to stare at her. She crossed her arms and glared at him.
"What?"
He didn't answer at first, but he did chuckle wryly, apparently quite satisfied with himself.
"Now I know you're alright."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothin' midget."
"Stupid idiot!"
There was a familiar, if smoldering silence between the two shinigami. Then Ichigo spoke again, his voice calm and gentler.
"Are you okay, really?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" Rukia was still annoyed with him, and she fidgeted with the cuffs of her yellow pajamas unconsciously.
"You were talking in your sleep."
She froze. He continued.
"Well, not talking exactly. More like mumbling. You sounded upset, kinda scared."
Rukia looked back up at him.
"So, you…?"
"I thought I heard you call me, but when I checked you were asleep, but you were trembling."
He gave her a little smile, the one she'd only seen a few times. Those smiles always seemed to be for her, now that she thought about it.
"But you calmed down as soon as I picked you up."
His eyes were incredibly warm, Rukia noticed. She looked away before she started to stare, the blush returning.
"My mom…she used to sing to me when I had nightmares, so I thought…"
He laughed again. Rukia wished Ichigo would laugh more. It lit up his face and made his eyes shine. She mentally shook herself. She needed to stop thinking like this.
"But, I'm not very good, am I?"
Something about this last statement, Rukia wasn't sure what it was, made her eyes sting. Maybe it was how it was utterly true, or the memory of his mother Ichigo had unexpectedly shared. Maybe it was this unheard of show of gentle tenderness from the battle-hardened warrior she had grown to know so well. Whatever the reason, her eyes filled up with tears that soon after spilled over, rolled down her cheeks, and landed soundlessly onto Ichigo's bed.
She bent her head quickly, shocked by herself. She never cried. Her eyes may have watered and burned with grief before, but she never let those tears fall. She was a Kuchiki. She had to be stronger than that. But one little song had her shoulders shaking with the effort to stop crying.
She was foolish to think she could hide the tears from Ichigo. He lifted her head with both of his hands.
"Rukia! What's wrong?"
She couldn't answer him. She couldn't trust herself to speak. But she couldn't force herself to look away from him. Ichigo wiped away a rolling tear with a calloused thumb softly.
"Don't cry stupid…" he murmured. Then he slowly, but purposely, lowered his lips to press gently against hers.
Rukia couldn't have stopped him even if she'd wanted to. And she didn't. Her tears had dried up like rain when the sun breaks through the storm clouds. She found herself wrapping her arms around him, pressing her face even closer to his. She was surrounded by his warmth and scent, something slightly spicy but also woodsy and organic.
Rukia couldn't pull away. This was where she belonged, not just here enclosed in Ichigo's arms, so close she could hear the steady beating of his heart within his muscled chest, but here in the human world, always by his side. They balanced each other, were each other's rock and ray of light. She always had his back, and she knew without a shadow of doubt in her mind that he would die to protect her, having almost done so several times already. They each saw and recognized the spark of warmth and familiarity in each other's eyes when the argued like an old married couple. She had seen him in every situation imaginable—covered in blood after a difficult battle, desperate with pain and rage at the Hollow that had killed his mother, scowling at his lunatic friends during lunch breaks at school (she knew he was smiling on the inside), and then those rare moments when he actually did smile and the world seemed a little brighter for it. She trusted him to the depths of her very soul—more than Ukitake-taichou, more than Nii-sama, even more than Renji. She loved him, and she was struck with the wonder of it and how she hadn't figured it out sooner.
She felt him mumble against her lips.
"Rukia…"
She pulled back slightly, catching Ichigo's eyes, wondering what made him pull back from the kiss. It was then that she heard the minute beeping sound coming from her pajama pocket. She whipped out her cell phone and scrutinized the small screen. She glanced back up at Ichigo.
"Hollow?" he asked expectantly, a half smile curving his lips. Rukia nodded shortly. Still keeping one hand by her cheek, he reached over and slid open his window until it was wide enough for someone to climb through.
"Ladies first, Short Stuff," he said, waving his hand nonchalantly towards the waiting dark street.
"After you, Strawberry," she retorted with a sarcastic smirk before they both leapt into the night and, matching each other's pace, raced into the fight.