She stood before him, a small figure in black robes, her hand clenched around the hilt of her sword so her knuckles flashed white, her face a pale mask. "I'll ask one more time," she said, her monotone disguising what truly must be fear. "Are you the one who killed my brother?" The last few words cracked in her mouth as they spilled out slowly. Hmm, must be painful to think about. To state it out loud- it makes it so much more real, no matter how long it's been.
"My. Are you trembling?" His voice was casual, the voice of someone simply starting a friendly conversation. He didn't answer the question.
Her grip tightened on the sword, and the blade slid out an inch. "Does it matter?" was her cool response. And yet, her wrists betrayed her as they quivered ever so slightly. a step back, imperceptibly. Almost.
He looked down into her partially-lidded violet eyes, just another tactic to hide her terror. It was terror, wasn't it? "Not much," he replied to her attempt at defiance. "If you don't think about it. But I did. I thought about very much, so that makes it important. But moving on- Are you afraid? Or is that apprehension? Anger, perhaps? Yes, anger might do it." He moved forward, just enough so she could realize she was losing ground. "But tell me you are not afraid just a little?"
"I-" she swallowed a little. Just a little. "I am. But it doesn't matter. No matter how afraid I am, I must finish this." She straightened her back, adjusted her stance. Confidence. "Do you know how many people helped me to get here? How many of them did not live?" Passion now. Those people must have been important. Oh well, no matter. She couldn't do anything to change the past, no matter how much she regretted it. "And it was my fault! I owe them this! If I don't make it back, then fine! But I must end you, for them, even if I end myself as well, This time, it is of my own free will, not like when one of your own tried to make me give in to my guilt. I carry it willingly. And you shall feel my pain, or at least some measure of it, soon."
Hmm. What a moving speech. "Are you trying to inspire yourself? Because it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself of something. However, rest assured I am not here to listen to you. If you are not going to draw your sword, then go. Accept your guilt, live another day. I want to live the life I have made for myself- in peace." His eyes narrowed. "And I do not need another Shinigami to come ruin it for me. Clean up your own mess. Do not blame this on me."
She wavered, he could tell. Oh, how she wanted to give in. Go back to her remaining friends who would smile, nod, and embrace her. Tell her they understood. That she did the right thing. How they wouldn't have been able to bear it if they lost another. Ah, but she confirms her resolve once again. Too many gone, perhaps? Or does she just want an excuse to get out of it all? Well, he wouldn't be her excuse. She would never exact revenge. But still… That arrogance. To come up to him, saying she was there for her friends, For her brother. That selfishness.Pinning those deaths on him, as if he were the root cause of it all. As if he killed her friends.
"You're guilty? Understandable. It is all your fault, after all. If you hadn't asked for their help, they would still be here, wouldn't they? If you'd accepted the loss of your brother as you accepted all the other casualties of the war, it wouldn't have come to this. But here we are." She would pay. She had to, of course. "Draw your sword."
"I- I had to do it." Now the quiver was evident in her voice.
"No, you did not have to do anything. It was your choice to come this far, with any means necessary. Did anyone force you? I do not believe so. Correct me if I am wrong. Draw your sword."
She blinked, wide-eyed. Looking a little dazed, she drew her sword before realizing she was obeying him. Holding it in a two-handed grip, she glared at him, hatred finally evident.
He drew his own zanpakuto.
Steel rang through the sand, the echoes fading into the cold air before they could reverberate. Two figures fighting in the desert. From nowhere to nowhere, for the last time.
How pathetic.