The candle lit.
He tossed the gun up into the air gently, catching it back, tossing it up again. The feeling of the smooth metal beneath his fingers was strangely comforting. It reminded him of a zanpakuto. The same sleekness, the same chill to the fingers, the same beauty to them both.
And he had heard of them, these things, these efficient things. Just a light squeeze. One simple squeeze. It had been easy to acquire one of the things. Very easy. Too easy, in fact. A small smile came to his face as he stroked a lean finger down the short barrel.
And he had had this for some time already. How many years? He could not quite recall. No matter. It had been around, waiting, just waiting. A silent reminder. And now that everything was over, he could finally move.
He looked at the desk, dimly illuminated by the single flickering candle stub. A slight breeze floated in through the open window. On a whim, he placed the gun back on the table, picking up another candle. Oh. It was the last one in the box.
He looked at it, twirling it around his fingers, fascinated.
A softly spoken, perfectly controlled kido spell lit the candle, just as the stub of its predecessor faded away. He placed it in the exact same spot, ignoring the hot wax collecting on and burning his fingers.
Slowly pulling his hand away from the lantern, he brought his fingers to his face, looking at the clear wax slowly hardening, fascinated. How… ingenious. He sighed, leaning back in the chair.
A hand reached for the smooth metal at the side. He picked up the gun, resuming the deadly toss. It was calming, it was soothing, and it was not for long. He knew that. And as efficient as these were, they would not do.
He sat there, next to the candle, watching the night sky outside, watching the clouds slowly drift by. There was nothing else to look at, really. The moon? He laughed, a cold laugh. The moon was gone, the stars had left. There was nothing remaining. And nothing really mattered anymore. He watched the sky, the clouds.
It slowly burnt down.
He watched it, watched as slowly, it burnt down to a stub. It flickered. No more replacing. No more running. No more time.
He smiled softly, sadly as he placed the gun down on the table. As much as he treasured the item, admired its beauty, it was not meant for him. He picked up the zanpakuto leaning against the wall, slowly, softly sliding open the shoji doors and stepping outside, barefooted.
His toes curled around the grass as he slowly moved away from the house, moving away. He stepped away from the grounds, stepped away from what he had known over the past years, just swept away.
His life had been saved, it had been saved, but somehow he could not quite shake the feeling that he had not been the one who was supposed to be saved. Not him, surely. Why him? He did not understand.
And he did know that what he was doing was unfair. It was very unfair. But it did not matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. It was not that he could not take the pain, not that he could not take the looks, the stares, the glares, the why-are-you-alives.
He just… He just did not want it anymore. It was selfish, it was wrong, it was insulting the person who had saved it, but then again, he had not seen that what he really wanted to do had been to go after all. He would not justify his decision. There was no need.
So many deaths now. And how many of them were his fault? He did not know. Too many. Too many. He closed his eyes, leaning against the trunk, wax-coated fingers running down the rough bark. He waited.
It was time. He knew it. Slowly drawing the zanpakuto out of its sheath, he ran the same two wax-coated fingers along its edge, drawing a thin line of blood. A smile came to his face. A small, sad smile.
"Chire, Senbonzakura."
The candle flickered. Flickered, and died.
I blame my brain.