A new bleach fic! I think this is my first venture into proper romance (generally I stick to comedy and violence), but we'll see how this goes! Originally I was going to write a Hinamori/Gin fic, and somehow it ended up being this. XD (Probably Gin/Ran makes more sense than Gin/Hinamori anyway!) Imagine that the winter war has been delayed by several years, but the betrayal still happened. This is set that several years later, before the winter war. Hopefully, it'll make sense. Anyway, I'm getting too paranoid now, so I'll just shut up.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Oh, and also, I'd recommend reading to something soothing whilst reading this: either some classical piano (Clair D'Lune, a Chopin Nocturne etc.) or something off the Bleach soundtrack (Never Meant to Belong, Will of the Heart or something like that) ^-^ Enjoy!
Part One – Matsumoto Rangiku
She couldn't sleep.
She lay on top of the blankets, tossing and turning. It was too hot to be underneath them. Her window was wide open, but there was no wind, not even the faintest breeze to brush its way past her as it darted into the room. The air outside was still, the night quiet, not a sound to be heard, not even the rustle of trees or of a shinigami's robes, perhaps as they took a late night stroll. No birds, no animals, no nothing, nothing that might be the cause of her deprival of sleep.
Instead, it was the moonlight, streaming through the window, illuminating her as she lay on her mattress. It cast an eerie glow on her skin, filtering through her eyelids whenever she tried to squeeze them shut. It was bright, unsettling, a beacon in the night.
But it wasn't the moon itself that kept her awake.
It was the memories that came with it that did.
Wearily, she swung herself to her feet, slipping into her shoes and crossing the bare floorboards to the door, not bothering to pull on a dressing gown over her pyjamas. Silently, she made her way through the tenth squad, her sandals padding over wooden boards, concrete paving slabs, stone paths, then finally soft grass. Around her, the walls of buildings became the trunks of trees as she left the main civilisations of Soul Society behind her, tracing her footsteps from many years ago as she entered a forest she had once known as well as the back of her hand.
Once, many years ago. She'd lost the courage after he'd left her again.
She remembered nights in her younger years, night after night, trailing this memory-worn path through the trees. So many nights, so different yet so similar to this one, where she glided in the same tranquil daze to the same clearing in the same forest.
She remembered the same feelings, every time, as she stood at the same spot in the shadow of the same two trees at the edge of that clearing. It wasn't so big a clearing, a space only a few metres in diameter, surrounded on all sides by trees in an almost perfect circle. There were no overhanging branches above; the trees seemed to hit an invisible shield and not be able to reach any further, leaving the sky to be clearly seen. The moon could always be viewed here, no matter how cloudy the night.
She remembered the way she would always pause, lingering on the edge of the trees, just blissfully admiring her surroundings.
She remembered how she would then take that single step forwards, feeling the grass tickle her toes through her sometimes socked, sometimes bare feet.
And then he'd be there.
Always, without fail, every night as she took that step forward, he'd suddenly be there, across the clearing from her, barely two metres away. Always standing there, very tall, his robes very white against the darkness of the trees. Her heart always beat that notch faster at the mere sight of him; his hair, silver, almost blue in the moonlight, his mouth, that ever-leering smile that hid so much more than it revealed, and his eyes, forever squinted shut, filled with mystery.
She remembered how he'd stand there, bathed in the moonlight, watching her. Whatever the month, whatever the weather, he'd be there, watching, waiting.
In spring, when the grass was rich and adorned with tiny flowers and she'd smile hesitantly at him from across the clearing.
In summer, when the air was warm, the night a welcome rest from the heat of the day, and they'd lie, side by side, on the grass, staring up at the stars.
In autumn, when the leaves on the many trees were turning to their vivid colours of golds, oranges, reds and yellows and she'd dance joyfully in the gales that buffeted them across the clearing, laughing as he caught her from behind, wrapping his arms around her neck.
In light rainfall, when she'd turn her face to the sky, relaxing as the small droplets kissed her face, like she found herself wishing more and more that he would.
In the summer fireworks festivals, when they'd lean back on the grass, gazing in awe at the displays, the happiness reflected clearly in her eyes.
In heavy thunderstorms, when they'd stand in the shelter of the trees, and he'd hug her to his chest, wrapping his robes around her, protecting her from the downpour.
In snow, when they'd merely stand, hand in hand, leaning against a tree, admiring the falling crystals, dazzled by each and every individual beauty.
And then in the end of winter, when the frost crackled in the grass, the weather turned drab and damp, and they'd lose all the closeness they'd created throughout the year, back to staring expressionlessly at each other from opposite ends of the clearing.
No matter what, he'd always been there.
But now, as she took that single step forward, he wasn't. He wasn't suddenly there, standing across the clearing from her. He wasn't there, tall, his robes white against the trees, bathed in the moonlight.
He wasn't there.
The tears overflowed, first a trickle, then a stream, then a wave, pouring silently down her cheeks, the tears that, until then, had been restrained. It had been so many years, such a long time, yet she still remembered it all. Every single moment, of every single minute, of every single hour, of every single night that she'd spent here, in this clearing, with him. Every single one, engraved into her memory for all eternity.
Such happiness then, causing her such pain now.
She knelt to the ground, the grass soft and sympathetic against her knees and ankles as she let it all overwhelm her.
Only now did she realise just how much he'd meant to her, just how much he'd been. He'd been everything, her hope, her happiness, her serenity, the moon in her night sky.
But now, he'd left her again, taking with him everything, her hope, her happiness, her serenity. He'd taken her heart, carelessly shattering it. He'd left her a mess of tangled threads, someone who put on a brave, cheerful face, behind which was the mere ghost that he'd left her to become. No one knew she was broken, no one had even the slightest hint, no one had any idea of the extent to which she was destroyed. Her night had darkened, and nothing would be able to light it again.
There was no one who could piece together the splinters of her broken heart.
No one . . . because, after all these years, he wasn't coming back. The clearing had been her last hope, the very last, delicate strand of hope. But that too was snapped now. There was nothing left, nothing at all.
Because, no matter what, he'd always been there.
But now, he wasn't there.
And he never would be.
What do you think? Good? Bad? Too overly romancy? Please review to let me know! ^-^
A second part coming soon - Ichimaru Gin's side of the story.
Thanks for reading!
