Kaleidoscope


Moments.

One small word – nearly meaningless, but at the same time, unimaginably important; because it is not in our daily life where we reveal the best of us, but in those so-small, second-long fragmentations of time. Moments are where we truly define ourselves; where we are able to become the things we've always dreamed of being; where we make those ultimate choices that so much depends on.

It was only within a moment that Ichigo had time to act.

Renji had done something with his broken zanpakuto in order to give him a split-second opening, and Ichigo had taken it without hesitation. One did not have time to hesitate within any given moment. So he made that final decision and he acted. He had shot forward into his bastardized shunpo when the razor-sharp shards of Zabimaru reached the arc of their journey, timing it so perfectly as to reach his target mere milliseconds after Renji's hit was completed; the whirlwind of dust, of the noise of screams and shouts, did not hinder him, and in that moment he was through it, past it, and his sword, dark as night and death itself, was moving fast enough to distort the air around it as he aimed for one final, finishing blow;

And then it all stopped.

His zanpakuto jerked hard in his arms, as if he'd run into a concrete wall, and the old scars on his hands split and bled from the shock. For a moment, just one moment, he was weightless as his body attempted to flow through with the strike but was unable to complete it, weightless with his body suspended a meter above the ground. It was only a moment. But it seemed closer to an eternity.

Aizen Sosuke stood in front of him, his form relaxed, his face showing no traces of anxiety or panic or even surprise; as if he was completely at ease with the events surrounding him, as if he was confident that he could deal with every single one without even the slightest hiccup in his plans. His own zanpakuto was held loosely in his right hand, his arm held easily at his side. His left hand was held up, one long, thin finger extended straight up into the air. Pushed against his finger, making for a stark contrast in color, was Zangetsu, its pitch-black blade barely making the skin crease from the impact.

He looked up at Ichigo with soft amusement, giving him the same type of façade he had given nearly every single person he'd ever known, not allowing even a hint of the sharp intelligence and merciless malice that Ichigo now knew him to have through to the surface. Eyes were the window to the soul, and Aizen simply had none to speak of.

His eyes kept that look of innocent, mildly-interested patience – did not change – even as his lips twisted so slightly , curved upwards just once into what could have once been a smile, and his right hand flashed into motion.

Ichigo saw the friendly, easygoing, comforting smile that sat so easily across the traitor's face, saw it twitch and change ever so slightly, saw it give way to something else, something darker, for just an instant; he saw the arm lift, saw the hand flick, heard the blade whistle as it sliced through the air for just one moment-

-before it, too, stopped.

Ichigo saw pink.

Kusajishi Yachiru stood in front of him like a small, bubbly death wish. Her feet were set firmly on the air just below his kneecaps, bent slightly to absorb the greater impact. Her zanpakuto, for once drawn from its pink, wheeled scabbard, was crossed with Aizen's, halting the single strike that had been aimed at Ichigo's midsection. Her eyes were locked with Aizen's.

Ichigo, for his part, had not been previously aware of any reason to fear the hulking Zaraki Kenpachi's little lieutenant. He'd only seen her a few times, and although the 11th Division taichou seemed to treasure her like a daughter, there'd been no reason to think of her as a threat.

But in that moment, so close to certain death, looking at the fukataichou who had protected him, saved him, and looking at the raw, unbridled murder in her eyes as she stared down Aizen Sosuke, he realized that his original conclusions had been dead wrong.

"You," she said, her voice like the growl of a jungle cat, "don't get to play with Ichi."


fin.


I thought to myself one day, 'Yachiru told Orihime that she was going to go help Ichigo, because 'he's Ken-chan's friend'; so, where was she when he got sliced in two?' This is what got spat out.

I do not intend to continue this, I do not intend for it to be longer, or hold the action sequence. This was just something that I wanted to throw up here - hopefully to stir up an idea of such a thing in someone else. That is all.