"See you later, Rukia. Thank you." The words fell from his mouth in the complete silence that surrounded him, though his friends, with their thoughts running and swirling hectically throughout their racing minds, were dying to say something. Ichigo had lost his powers. He couldn't sense the petite young woman that stood before him like they could. He didn't see the way she looked at him. He couldn't see the indigo windows and the light drizzle that threatened to spill over her rims. They couldn't say anything to him, either. It would only make him feel worse.
Uryu wondered what Ichigo's next move would be. The wind rustled the leaves in the trees surrounding the walkway they stood in. His dark eyes studied the young man's matured face, only being able to guess what was going through Ichigo's mind. He was sure there were some jealous words flying around his inside of his thick skull, but he also knew that Ichigo wouldn't be one to ponder on those evil thoughts. Uryu guessed he wouldn't say anything, and would wait for someone else to make the first move, to say the first word and break the lingering silence of his devastation. He was correct to an extent; Ichigo never said a word. He looked only at the sky, and hadn't moved his head since Rukia vanished completely from his sight.
Orihime's stomach dropped. Something inside of her chest was telling her to not like this situation. She understood Ichigo's feelings. He lost all of his soul reaper powers, Zangetsu, his ability to sense spiritual pressure, and he couldn't see what they could. He was always helpful to those younger-aged souls that aimlessly roamed Karakura Town, and now he couldn't comfort them like he used to. He was so talented at it, and always knew what to say. She understood the shock he was going to experience, if he wasn't already beginning to feel it. It would be new for him, and for them as well. Rukia had to leave.
Rukia. That was the portion of the situation that Orihime's heart didn't like. It was the sadness plastered on her face when she looked up at him as he was losing her... No, he wasn't losing her. She was never his to begin with. She had no right to be crying, either. Sure, the event was tragic, but it's not like Ichigo was dying.
Orihime didn't like the way Ichigo was acting, on top of that. He hadn't said a word to them, and he only looked into the sky as if staring at something that he was sure was approaching them. She followed his gaze. There was nothing. She wanted him to stop.
She wanted these thoughts to stop. She loved Ichigo and seeing him this way, so unhappy, and realizing that there was nothing she could do or say made her feel helpless. She liked Rukia, too, and she was leaving, one of her closest friends, and she wasn't sure when she'd get to see her next. She wanted them to be happy, and she hated the feeling of disliking the two of them. They were like family to her. She hated what her heart was feeling.
"Ichigo," Rukia whispered, as if it were a test to see if he really could not sense her. He didn't react; not in the slightest. She bit her lip and turned away from the group, taking a few steps to separate herself from them as she drew her zanpakuto. Sticking it out in the air in front of her, she unlocked the senkaimon to the Soul Society. She didn't look back, but she waved and uttered a "thank you" to her friends before disappearing. As rude as it seemed, they understood. It wouldn't be right to have a formal goodbye without Ichigo being able to take part. He deserved being the last one she faced while in the World of the Living.
The gates of the senkaimon closed. Rukia was gone. And somehow, Ichigo knew. That was his cue to turn towards his home and go inside, taking small steps. It's not like he was in a rush to go anywhere.
"Ichigo," Orihime said quietly. He didn't respond, and continued on inside.
"See you later, Rukia," he said to himself again, so quietly that he could barely hear it himself.
Two months had passed since Rukia's departure. Ichigo had fully recovered from the loss of his powers and was well and going to school again. He functioned alright; eating, sleeping, showering, and doing his homework. He talked with his friends, mostly whenever someone addressed him, as he had always done. He spent a lot of time going for walks and lying on his bed to think. He would beat off a few thugs who challenged because of his outrageous hair. He beat on his dad before Isshin could beat on him. He even helped out Yuzu with the laundry every once in awhile. He had the same dismissive demeanor as always. He was the same old Ichigo as before.
Only he was completely different. Yuzu didn't know how to explain it. There was always something off about him as he sat down for dinner, something about the way he glanced at the end of the table. She didn't know why he did that; nobody ever sat there. The four people in their family sat on the two longer sides across from each other, but his eyes would flicker to that spot as if he were double-checking to make sure nobody was there, then the quickest, grimmest look would cover his face, fill his eyes, and then it would be gone before anybody other than her could notice. She decided to question him about it one night after dinner. The opportunity came to her when he offered to clear the table for her. He knew she was worried about her twin. Karin had choked on a rice dumpling and passed out after Isshin helped her get it out. She was upstairs in the clinic with her father, and Ichigo could tell where Yuzu wanted to be.
"You go upstairs," he said, taking her plate from her hands. "I'll take care of the mess."
"Thanks, Ichigo," she said with a smile. She started running for the staircase when she remembered what happened earlier. "Actually, Ichigo," she said, turning back to him and anxiously holding her owns hands. "I noticed something you did earlier and I'm wondering if you were conscious of it or not." Ichigo had finished picking up everybody's plates and stacking them into one hand. He turned to look at her, keeping his arm balanced.
"Yeah, and what would that be?" he asked curiously. She studied him for a moment before answering.
"I've noticed that you glance at the end of the table every time you sit down for a meal," she said. She noticed his eyes dart to the ground, breaking their eye contact. "Ichigo... Are you alright? Is something the matter? You haven't really been...well...I..." She trailed off, unsure of how to word her thoughts.
She's forgotten about Rukia, he thought. They all have.
"I'm alright, Yuzu," Ichigo said, putting on a smile for his worrisome sister. "Don't worry about me. I guess I subconsciously check for Mom sitting there, even though I know she won't be." The story wasn't convincing enough. She wasn't sure if he was lying or not, and didn't know what to say.
"But you didn't always used to do that," she said quietly and looking down at her socks. "Ichigo, is there anything going on at school? Like, anything on your mind? I know I'm only eleven, and that I'm probably not the first person you would go to, but I want to help you if anything is wrong-" He cut her off with the surprise of a hug that she wasn't expecting.
"I won't lie to you, Yuzu," he said. "I have been feeling rather...numb lately, I suppose. I don't know how else to explain it. Nothing is going on and I'm alright. I'll tell you if anything happens, alright? I appreciate your concern. Thank you." Yuzu didn't know what to say. She could hear the sincerity in his voice, but she could tell he was troubled. She couldn't believe she didn't notice it before now. There was a look of anxiety written in each of his features, and he was changing a little bit. He was tall enough as it is, but he had added an inch to his height in the last few months. She could also detect the stubble of sideburns growing along the sides of his face, and facial stubble on his chin as well. She was taken aback a bit. He was still going through some pubic changes? Well, he was only sixteen.
"If you're anxious, Ichigo," Yuzu said as Ichigo backed away from her and back to the table to finish clearing it. "You can trying playing that guitar sitting in your room. You know, the one collecting dust? When's the last time you played it?" There was a scolding tone playing on her voice, with her hands in fists and finding themselves on her hips.
"Hell if I know," he said, chuckling at her mother-like appearance. Here she was, half his size, pouting at him as if he should feel remorse for abandoning an old instrument he never cared all that much for.
"Well pick it up," she said. "Doing something that occupies your hands and mind usually helps relieve some anxiety."
"I wouldn't necessarily say I'm anxious, but I'll humor you."
"Good." And with that, she darted for the stairs and hopped up to the clinic in the back portion of the house, leaving Ichigo alone again, but this time with the picture of a raven-haired rabbit in his mind after Yuzu's energetic display. He sighed, turning on the faucet and cleaning the dishes. Rukia...
He cleared her face from his mind. He needed to distract himself. He thought about Yuzu's demeanor just moments before, and immediately felt guilty. I made her feel unease, he thought. It was all for selfish reasons, too. He wondered who else he brought down with his depressing contribution to the atmosphere. But then again, Yuzu never said anything until now, meaning she probably never really noticed. He was self-conscious, wondering just how he came off to others now that Rukia was gone and his mind was constantly blank. He tried to keep up his 'cool', secluded attitude, as his friends and family were used to. Was he doing it right?
God, he had never felt so out of place. It was like he didn't belong here anymore. Nobody knew how to relate to him. It wasn't like he was depressed and sulked, nor was it that he didn't socialize. He did just that, and had convinced all of his friends that he was fine awhile ago. That was all he needed to do, because everyone else had completely forgotten about Rukia. It just felt like he was on a new level of thought, and nobody occupied this level with him. It was like he changed, moved on to a different purpose in life than what he had, and nobody else made the transition with him. He felt like he was missing from somewhere, and that he could just disappear from here and find himself somewhere else, a new place he'd never been to, and he wouldn't feel lost. It almost seemed frustrating now that he thought about it thoroughly. None of them will know, he thought.
Having finished his work in the kitchen for Yuzu, he impulsively decided to go for a walk. Without grabbing a jacket, he waltzed out the door and closed it gently behind him. He began walking. There was no destination in his path for him to arrive at, other than where his next foot would fall in step.
The night air was chilled. The season was now moving out of winter and into spring, and the temperature was slowly climbing its vine into warmer, tolerable, universally preferred degrees. He didn't mind the cold, unlike most others. He only bundled up due to common sense, not because of his physical senses. He would also get scolded when he didn't wear a jacket, and liked to save himself the trouble of listening to annoying, female voices nag him to do something so mundane. However, his sisters were inside with his father, Orihime was safe and warm inside of her apartment, and Rukia was back in the Soul Society. Not a soul bugged him (pun intended) about his white polo breathing in the windy air around him, blowing off his tan skin and chilling the goosebumps into rising. His arm hair stood on end. His brain sent a shiver down his spine in an attempt to get the moron to put on a damn coat. But Ichigo didn't mind. He didn't mind one bit.
As he walked, he glared the moon above him. Silky white, full and bright, it lit up his path. Not that it mattered. He was fine walking wherever the road decided to go. He had a sour taste in his mouth. He wanted the moon to fall apart. It didn't belong here. His mind was dark. How dare it try to breach his thoughts with its purity. It was like Rukia had always done with her constant invasion of his privacy.
Privacy. That was something he hadn't had in a long time, since a certain midget slept in his closet for a few months in a row. Having to take turns to change clothes, not ever having complete solitude, having to jack off in the shower, having to put on clothes before going back into his room after a shower (getting them damp in the process), having to wake someone else up in the morning (slowing him down), having to listen to that annoying beeping from the damn Soul Pager, having to have Kon lurking around in his drawers and private possessions. It wasn't just privacy he regained; it was freedom he had long-forgotten about, the freedom he had grown so accustomed to that it didn't truly matter to him anymore.
If anything, he wished Rukia was back here to take it away again. He would rather have that distraction than the seemingly endless time he now had on his hands to think about life and to think about her, to try and remember what the hell he did before she stepped through the wall that night, to try and think about what he was going to do now. It was like he had been thrown back into the swing of things, but it was someone else's routine, and he didn't know what to do. He's back at the start but forgot all that he once knew. She changed a lot more than what he originally thought.
"Damn you," he muttered, hoping she somehow heard it.
He came to a stop when he realized he was passing the riverside where his mother died. He looked out on the water, as if hoping to see her there, waiting for him. Instead, he saw the moon's reflection dancing atop the ripples. Rukia invaded even these deep thoughts of his. He seemed so lost from his mother that he found it hopeless to think about her, especially when all he could think of was Rukia. It was as if there was no more room in his heart for yearning because she was hogging all of it.
Damnit, Rukia. You don't even know, do you? He continued on, hating on all the pale things he saw, for they reminded him of the moon, of which reminded him of Rukia, and he hated on all the dark things they saw, for they reminded him of Rukia's hair, and her eyes, and he hated it.
Normal people wouldn't have recognized the small, clay pot of flowers peeking out from behind a lamppost like he did. He was so used to finding things like that, especially near the spirits he was once able to see. Out of instinct, he looked around, searching for the lost soul that belonged to this memorial, forgetting momentarily that he will always find nothing. How was he supposed to know if the soul was there or not, if they were okay or if they were being pursued by a Hollow? The thought tormented him. Even the old souls he could once see weren't there for him.
Nothing at all was the same. He was lost, alone in a foreign world. Alone in a foreign world. The phrase had a ring to it, and only he would notice that about such a devastating statement. He didn't even care what it meant; there was nothing he could do about it. But it sure sounded nice. It flowed. He picked out some notes in his head and put them together. Sang it in his head. Hummed it. Sang it out loud. Sang it on the way home, over and over, and didn't pause even when his hand attempted to turn the stuck doorknob, locked from the inside.
Isshin probably thought he was upstairs, or had his jacket (which, of course, held his house key). He swiftly changed directions and headed for the spot on the side of his house that he found gave him easy access to climb to the roof. A little physical effort was all that was needed, which, with his body, was rarely an issue.
Still singing under his breath, Ichigo crossed the roof to where his window would be, grabbed the edges of the roof, and jumped down. He slid open the window with his foot, using the rubber sole on the bottom of his shoe as a grip. Once inside, he left the window open and headed for his desired object.
A leathery, brown guitar case caked with dust leaned against the wall at the foot of his bed. He pulled it up off the floor and laid it out on the blanket, flipping open the locks in the process. He lifted the lid with a single finger and looked inside. it was too dark, but he could see the reflection of the moon on the waxed surface of the guitar inside. He reached over to his desk and flipped on the lamp, then looked back at the guitar. There was no dust on the inside of the case, as expected. He wrapped one hand around the neck and tucked his other hand under the body and slowly pulled out the old instrument. He looked down, feeling the surface and searching for any problems with it. It had been so long since he played, but he remembered everything, vaguely, and what he didn't remember would come back easily with a little practice to jog his memory. He wondered how old he was when he last picked up this old thing. He guessed he was about Yuzu and Karin's age, maybe a year or so older.
Ichigo studied the neck, checking for the first sign of obvious storage, and groaned. The action(*) was awful. Luckily he had strong fingers, so that wasn't a matter, just an inconvenience. He brought his first two fingers down on the strings to test the sound. It needed tuning, and badly. He found the electronic tuner in the case, and while tuning it, he wished he still had the ability to tune by ear. The electronic tuner was never 100% accurate and was rather annoying.
Now he was ready. He took a breath, and froze. It had been so long, and he suddenly felt like he was being watched.
Damn anxiety, he cursed. I'm too paranoid. Just play, dumbass. His fingers obeyed, using the nerves in his brain to search through all of his learned skills to find the right ones needed for this task. When they found what they were looking for, they played the short melody he had been singing on his walk home. He found himself liking the sound of it, and played it a few more times until it became familiar to him and he didn't need to focus so much on what to play. He tested the melody with the lyrics.
"Alone in a foreign world," he sang quietly, at first hesitant. He wasn't one to be self-conscious over petty matters such as his voice, but he didn't exactly want anybody hearing him do what he was trying to do.
After listening to the words outside and to the music of the guitar, he decided he didn't like the sound of it. He racked his brain for other things to put in place for it, then remembered that desperately trying to find the right words wouldn't give him what he was looking for. He had to think about ideas and let them evolve in his mind. He sighed, and aimlessly strummed all the strings at once, and sang out the only thing on his mind.
"Rukia, Rukia, Rukia." He paused, hoping to see if words would come to him, but to no avail. He was still at a loss. Instead of thinking of lyrics, he decided to let that wait until later and focused on finding a progression to match the melody he concocted. After several minutes, he had a pretty basic idea of what he going to do.
Suddenly, there was a slamming sound that startled him into jumping up off his bed, feet planted on the floor.
"What the hell?" he said instinctively, his head frantically turning and searching for where the sound came from. Nobody was in the room with him, and though the thought was spooky, he wasn't spooked. He stood up, holding the guitar from its neck. He looked around again, searching for anything out of the ordinary. The window was closed (not the one behind him; he didn't count that in his speculation for he knew nothing came in from behind him), the door was closed, and nothing had been moved. He checked in the closet, found nothing, then checked his desk, where at first it seemed like nothing was out of the ordinary there. As he turned away, he noticed the note with an all-too-familiar handwriting.
Sloppy, yet elegant, and coupled with a pair of horribly-drawn bunnies in the bottom left corner, the note read, "What the hell are you doing, idiot?" His fingers froze, crumpling the note in his grasp. His mind shut down, and his eyes closed. He waited.
"I'm writing you a song, dummy," he said finally. "Now get the hell out and come back a month from now."
He couldn't believe it. She was really there. And he had just told her to leave. He waited, waited to see what would happen. He hoped with all of his heart that she would appear before him, so that he could see her face one last time, and see it be happy. He hated the fact that the last thing he saw was her sad expression, sadder then all the times he'd seen her cry. He wanted to erase that so badly. He nearly kicked the side of the desk out of anger, anger because he couldn't change his memory and because he couldn't see her, no matter how hard he hypothetically tried to focus on a given spot where she was supposed to be.
Damnit, Rukia. He still felt like he was being watched. He knew she was still there, and it pissed him off because he couldn't sense her. He had to rely on that feeling of being alone and the invasion of that seclusion in order to know she was still there. He just wanted to feel her spiritual pressure again. And he couldn't.
"Damnit, I said get out!" he yelled, raising his voice, but not enough to alert anyone else in the house. He was on the brim of what he wanted to hide. He couldn't let her see him like that. He fell to his knees, dropping the guitar on his bed.
"Rukia, please," he begged into the painful silence. He waited awhile before adding on his other thought. "Please come back to hear it." It took a few moments, but soon he felt alone once again. No intrusions, no onlookers, no one. Upon these thoughts came the first of the tears. He wiped them away, ashamed, then folded his arms on his bed and rested his forehead on them. His eyes stared at the floor and the bottom rail holding the bed up, but his mind stared at the note in his mind. Her hands had touched that, written that for him, left it, then slammed something to get his attention. She had been there, watching him, for God knows how long. She'd probably been there the whole time.
He suddenly felt heated. She was stubborn, as always, and made him say 'please' before giving in. She never gave into his anger before, so why would she do it then? He felt angry for falling into her trick. Stupid stubborn midget. She made a fool of him, making him expose himself like that. He hated her for that. He hated himself for having that last thought. He was angry. She made him so angry without even trying.
That was one of the things he missed about her the most. She had such an effect on him, and it was comforting to know that that had not changed.
Gripping the note, he pulled one of his arms down to reread it. It was close enough to his face that he noticed a light scent attached to it, one he had not smelled for what seemed like the longest time. A mix between vanilla, brown sugar, and something seemingly floral. He didn't know how else to describe the smell. It was sweet and warm. His room used to faintly smell like her when she lived here in the World of the Living, but it was also mixed with his 'scent' of testosterone and sweat lingering in the air. It was comfortable to him, and he liked it that way. Lately, he hadn't been able to smell anything different for what seemed like forever. He missed this aroma.
Ichigo stuck the paper to his nose and inhaled as if it were his last breath, and exhaled in low, vocalized sobs. He buried his face into the blanket to keep his secret from escaping the room. He would beat just about anybody who walked in on this act of his, even Karin and Yuzu. He was so beyond frustrated, beyond help.
He bit down into the comforter and screamed a long, pained, muffled scream. He didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He only paused to take a breath and screamed again, tears draining his eyes of their comfort. They burned, and his face was wet. He never bit so hard in his life. He never hurt so much in his life.
He hated this feeling, with such a fiery passion. All these thoughts, all these torturous feelings from just one girl. How was that even possible?
Suddenly, his head snapped up. He had some words for the song. Just like that, all of his anger bottled itself once again, and he got back up on the bed and picked up his old friend, then got started on the next months' work.
"Where are you going, Ichigo?" Karin asked her older brother as he tied his shoes. He stood up and shouldered a fabric guitar case lying on the floor then turned to Karin.
"Out," he said simply. She crossed her arms and pursed her lips.
"That's it? That's the answer I get?"
"What more do you need?" he groaned, annoyed. "I'll be back later. Don't wait up for me." Karin stared at her brother's back, watching him as he was heading for the door. He had seemed more his usual self recently-well, he'd always been himself, but there was always something slightly off about him that she couldn't put her finger on. More recently, he seemed a little less off, and a little more Ichigo. Whatever it was he'd been occupying himself with lately, it seemed to be helping him. Unable to help herself, she ran forward after him, following him out the door.
"Ichigo!" she called, though it was unnecessary. He wasn't that far ahead and hadn't yet left the property. He turned at the calling of his name, one hand stuck into his coat pocket, the other around the guitar case strap.
"Karin?" he mumbled, watching her as she stumbled barefoot across the cement. It was colder out tonight than it had been a month ago. She and her tiny body had to be shivering already. "Karin!" he scolded. "Do you know cold it is? Get back inside." Instead of listening, she continued running until she was close enough to wrap her arms around him, shoving him back a little bit the force.
Ichigo could feel her shivering against his body.
"Karin," he muttered. "What are you-?" He was cut off by being thrown back a little once again by a hug from Yuzu. "Yuzu? You guys, go back inside. It's too damn cold out here for you to be barefoot."
"We're j-just..." Yuzu began, but she couldn't seem to continue. She was shivering, at a loss for words, and trying hard to not cry all at the same time.
"Happy," Karin continued for her. "Happy and scared."
"What do you mean?" Ichigo asked, doing his best to keep them warm with his arms.
"We're happy y-you've been doing w-well ag-gain," Yuzu said, "but scared th-that you'll l-leave again like you u-used to."
"We nev-ver know when you'll c-come b-back," Karin finished.
Ichigo was speechless. He'd never thought about the effect he'd had on his sisters, how worried he made them, especially when he went off training for months at a time. It made him disgusted with himself, how selfish, inconsiderate, and impulsive he would be. In the midst of his self-hatred he remembered the cold, then got on his knees. Keeping them wrapped tightly in his arms, he stood up and jogged back to the house and dropped them off inside.
"I'm sorry," he said. He didn't no how else to explain his feelings to them other than those overused words that didn't contain the emotion he felt. "But you know, I can take care of myself. I'll be here in the morning; I promise." With nods of acknowledgement and a goofy grin from their brother, he returned to his night walk, double-checking behind him to make sure they weren't following him again.
He headed out to the shed to pick up something before making his way across Karakura Town to the riverside where his mother died. He set up the fold-up chair he grabbed from the shed and sat down on it, feeling the cold metal through his jeans. But he was Ichigo; he didn't mind at all.
Rukia, I'm waiting, he thought, unzipping the case and pulling out the guitar. The cold air was probably bad for the strings, but he didn't care, so long as he got to play the song one more time for her. He waited awhile. He wasn't sure when Rukia would find him, or how he would know when she was there. He felt awkward sitting there on the riverbank, wondering who would see him and wonder what the hell he was doing. Then he decided he didn't care. No matter who they were, they weren't associated with him and he didn't care to talk to them.
He leaned backward in the chair, making it groan under the stress. He closed his eyes, feeling the cold tidbits of air flutter atop the lids where the warmth of the folds had just been. It made his eyeballs feel cold. It almost excited him. Though she was warm, the cold was like Rukia, her and her beautiful zanpakuto.
Speaking of Rukia... he thought, beginning to feel that he was not alone. It wasn't the sort of feeling where he felt watched. He felt joined, as if he now had company.
"I was beginning to think you wouldn't show," he admitted, tuning the strings in preparation. He could feel her presence behind him, and that comforted him. She did come back to hear her song.
He suddenly became overcome with nerves. He would actually be performing it, and not just that, but for her. What would she think of it? Play it for the world and get criticized up the ass, he would do in a heartbeat. He didn't give the slightest bit of a damn what anybody else thought, so long as Rukia liked it. And if she didn't...
He took a deep breath, and let it out as slowly as possible to calm his nerves. She came here to hear it. She wants to. Play it for her, damnit. You promised. And with that, his fingers began to play. He laughed nervously.
"As cliche as it sounds, it's called Alone," he said. "And you should know that you were the sole inspiration."
With his first breath, he began singing, leaving behind all inhibitions. He wanted to be her open book.
(A/N I would advise listening to the song this story was inspired by at this point. Find it here (youtube link): watch?v=PqLZg5cEM1s. (Link also posted below))
"Tonight looks like a cold one.
The moon decides to show.
Dance along the ocean.
None of us will know, none of us will know.
So this is the end of it.
It's time for us to go.
Back to where we started,
Back to what we know, back to what we know.
Do you know what it feels like to be alone?
Well I do, I do.
Do you know what it feels like to be alone?
Well I do, I do.
Then this next part gets a little higher, so be prepared for shitty-sounding vocals, probably. I wouldn't know," he says, talking over a period of just the guitar playing.
"Tonight looks like a cold one.
The moon decides to show.
Dance along the ocean.
None of us will know, none of us will know.
So this is the end of it.
It's time for us to go.
Back to where we started,
Back to what we know, back to what we know.
Tomorrow's never promised you.
This world is all we share.
I'd die a thousand times for you.
I wonder if you'd care.
I wonder if you'd care at all."
At that point in the song, his heart was racing due to his confession. Ignoring it, he continued.
"Do you know what it feels like to be alone?
Well I do, I do.
Do you know what it feels like to be alone?
Well I do, I do.
I do, I do, I do.
And this part here, if I had an electric guitar, I'd be playing with that instead. It sounds cooler."
He kept playing as the song reached its end.
"Tonight looks like a cold one.
The moon decides to show.
Dance along the ocean.
None of us will know."
He finished on a low note, then sat and intended on letting the note linger in the air for awhile before saying anything, but he heard several intakes of breath as if someone is hyperventilating while crying. Surprised, he turned around to stare at the intruder, then droped the guitar into the sand as his eyes widened in delighted shock.
"Oh, Ichigo," she said, a line of tears falling from the eyes of her gigai to the chin.
His mind went completely numb. He could no longer hear the sounds of the water behind him. He couldn't even hear her voice as she called out to him while he ran at her. He was so completely absorbed in bliss that nothing else existed except for the beautiful girl trapped in his arms that he picked up and spun around. He held her high enough so that he could bury his face against the cloth of her dress and hid between the flaps of her coat. She laughed joyously, and that only made his tears come out faster.
His arms clamped around her, shaking so tremendously that Rukia was almost worried he would drop her, but no such thing would happen. He wouldn't let her go, not even if she begged him to. She was his captive. He couldn't stand losing her again. If only he'd known that he'd feel so lonely when she was gone. Had he, Ichigo would likely have fought the notion, despite the odds that were hideously against him. He still would have done anything to prevent the ache that had surrounded his heart for months.
Her voice soft as a feather, tickling the caverns of his hearing, she murmured quietly into his ear: "You idiot. You made me cry."
A/N *action in this context refers to the spacing between the strings and the neck on a guitar. The bigger the gap, the greater the distance, and the harder it is to play (because you have to put more effort into pushing the strings down). When guitars sit in storage for a long period of time, the stress on the strings pull on the head, which lifts it and makes the distance greater.
My bad for the dickish ending. (Updated and made it less dick-ish)
This is intended to be a oneshot. I do not plan to further this any further (/redundant), nor do I particularly want to, but if there is popular demand, well then ohk iwilldeeplyconsiderit.
I hope y'all liked it. This story was inspired by this (youtube link watch?v=PqLZg5cEM1s) wonderful song. (You can listen to an acoustic version here: youtube link watch?v=pmJYl5vePNg, which is technically what Ichigo would be playing (minus the percussion).) I just listened to it and related every lyric to IchiRuki (my OTP ;3; 3)
A question I got too many times: yes, I take requests, but I guarantee nothing. (If you request IchiHime, I will fucking flip a tit.)
.elric-logic