This is just one of those "nyeh-I-have-no-life" fics. Huh. I'm pretty horrible, actually. Spoiler alert! This starts from about chapter 344 "The Pride" to about the end of 353 "The Ash", and then a little into the present "whatever Uryu and Orihime are doing right now ontop of that building-thing" timeframe...oh yes, be warned! I use the S-word once. My conscience is killing me, I know.
If Hueco Mundo could rain, he figured it would be her tears. And the clouds—gray, hazy, blurred, and hopeless? These were her eyes. And the tears...if Hueco Mundo could rain, he figured it would be her tears.
And if that was inevitably the case, then Hueco Mundo rained every day.
Clouds covered the sky in misty blankets of unknown precipitation, and rain would roll cruelly down her cheeks. It would all rain down continuously—her worries, her fears, and her torment. It would drown her. She would try gasping for air, gasping for the surface—mercilessly; it would bury her under its heartless pressure.
Tears.
It would be true to say that Hueco Mundo couldn't rain. But then it would also be true that it could never stop raining.
Her gray eyes would gaze up hopelessly at the moon, the sky—it never changed. Monotonously, she'd blink, void of anything real...
And then it would start to storm.
They were there to save her. Their blood was utterly split for her.
Screams. Explosions. Pressure. Stone. Heat. Sand. Blood. Sweat. Death.
A limitless moon.
And Yammy went down easily.
When he had finally seen her, he couldn't help but sense the thick jolts of complete joy conduct through his lean body. Maybe it showed in his face, in his eyes, but he hoped it wasn't that obvious; he believed now that she wasn't just a dream. She was real, they would finally save her. After a thorough state of brevity, now closer, he stared her over, but this time he noticed her ragged, disheveled state.
Tangled hair. Rips, shreds, tears. A flushed face of fear.
A contemptuous tint washed over him. He would protect her. He was convicted to do so. For now, he'd let him do the fighting; he would stay behind with her, because just protecting her was the most important to him. He would die for her—he was convicted to do so.
"Take care of her. If her Rikka can't withstand my pressure..."
His blue eyes glazed over at his opposite.
"...shield her with your body."
She was his main priority. An obligation, but also his free choice.
"I would even if you hadn't asked."
It was a menial statement on his part. But, he gulped even so.
No, she was never an obligation.
Maybe if she had seen his face, she would know the entire extent of his conviction.
His love.
She was with him as they traveled up the white column into the dome. He had no time to value it as a "moment", but he cherished it nonetheless. In a way, it was soothing having her there, with him—like before. Maybe under different circumstances, he'd feel self-conscience about his appearance. There was blood and dirt stained on his clothes, almost revolting, yet he softly ordered her to grab onto him so that she wouldn't fall. The close proximity would have almost scared him. But she accepted humbly.
Though, it wasn't the time.
"This is amazing."
The first compliment he'd had in a long time. In a way, the things he could create with the spiritual energy around him were amazing. He knew from personal reference how to utilize his resources—they had saved him time and time again.
The disk they were lifted upon—sure, it was amazing.
"I learned it as we passed through the Garganta, though only halfway here to Hueco Mundo was when I realized I could use it. If I only knew sooner..."
If he only saw the look on her face...
"...maybe I could have been of some use on the battlefield."
If Hueco Mundo could rain, he could conclude without a doubt that it would be her tears. And so they were spilt from her gray eyes again, but he couldn't say it was for him. He was the night, always there, but still considered on the bottom of the interval. Though, it wasn't the time to complain. Hell, he knew it wasn't the damned time to think of himself.
There was a puncture through his chest. His blue eyes widened skeptically.
He could see the sky through the hole. He could see the clouds through the hole. And the rain—she was crying. Hueco Mundo was raining, and so she was crying. The blood.
The...blood...
The lust.
"Of all of his friends, I thought you were the calmest."
Fire.
"I am—that's why I can fight!"
He'd buy her time under all means. She needed to heal him. His pride was in her, and not the fight; to hell with his body. Time: that's all that was needed. There was no way he could worry about himself. But he could still sense the tears shedding from her eyes. She gasped his name. He was dead. But she could heal. She had to, she wanted to.
Time.
He clenched his teeth as pain surged through his body.
Time.
With only one blow, he was forced back. He felt weak. His navy blue eyes met hers in an estranged second, before he turned away. He didn't want to see her face.
Dammit.
Time. Tears. Rain. Blood.
If things weren't so serious, maybe he'd try to create a type of bitter humor in his head. Amazing was her word, correct? A circumstance wasn't worth losing an arm and a leg. But because of this current circumstance, he had already lost an arm.
Now he was anticipating the latter.
Shit.
Ichigo Kurosaki was the orange glow of the sun, bright and new—her ever-glowing source of hope. Uryu Ishida was the night, there to secretly capture her away in her dreams, through the black. But in the end, Ichigo was still the orange morning, and Uryu was still the dark blue night. Second-rate.
"I-Ishida-kun?"
He figured that he had lost consciousness. Though he had applied anesthesia beforehand, he had still lost a significant amount of blood—especially after getting stabbed through his torso. That was probably why all he could see was black. But he could still breathe—he could still move.
"Ishida-kun? Please, Ishida-kun!"
Opening his eyes, he instantly came face to face with her. For a moment, he couldn't speak. He gulped. He gasped. He tried to register his thoughts.
Only one thing came to mind.
"...I-Inoue-san?—"
His words were instantly cut off as she grabbed him in a wrangled hug. Thankfully, he couldn't feel any more pain, or the bear hug she trapped him in would have certainly caused him to blackout once more.
"I-Ishida-kun, you're alright, I'm so happy—I...I was so worried!—a-after, it all just!—"
"W-what happened?"
He hadn't expected her to cry. Not for him, anyway. Her hot tears dripped down her face—onto his glasses, his cheeks, his lips, his hair, his forehead. But, for a moment, he didn't care. He knew things were done and over with. He was fine, almost contented. Ichigo had done what he had to do, and Uryu would do the same. He couldn't hold any enmity—it wasn't in him.
"Kurosaki, he...he killed h-him." She didn't let him go as the tears continuously traveled leisurely down her face. "H-He went back down to help the others—it's just us up here...I had to heal you."
He didn't say anything more, but rather he looked up into her face, flushed, crying, but with a small, hopeful smile. With his left arm—yes, he could feel his left arm—he cupped her face with his hand. She gasped, but he paid no heed to it. Maybe he could get away with it, if only once.
With a thumb, he wiped away the smudges of tears and sand and debris off her cheek. Even a small corner of his thin mouth tilted up in a grin.
"Inoue-san, I'm...glad you're safe."
His assertion certainly did surprise her, but it surprised him more as she put her hand over his. Orihime smiled down at him. He'd always remain the same, and she was happy.
If Hueco Mundo could rain, he figured it would be her tears.
But, Uryu would make sure it would never rain again.
So, I've been totally into some NnoiNel action lately. It's canon in a very crack way. Bahaha, total doujinshi status, too. Anyway...please review! Would be greatly appreciated! Tell me if like...it was off or anything. It's like one in the morning where I am right now...so I'm totally out of it. My original idea sort of sidetracked.