Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its affiliates. Anything that you recognise is property of its respective owners. Any relations to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.
Base/s: Bleach
Title: Thou Shalt Sin
Summary: Matsumoto was too late. He became consumed with revenge and she was falling right there with him. Dark. HitsuMatsu
Music used for inspiration: The Catalyst – Linkin Park
"Shoot to kill, Shinso."
He watched in slow motion and he heard the words through a wall of water. The moonlight glinted of the rushing steel and the air quivered.
There wasn't time to do anything. No time to cry her name, to stretch out a hand or to do anything but watch.
Her body lay in a small crater, the force of the blade hitting her body enough to crack the rock. Blood - rich and warm - pooled beneath her, coating her skin and hair. The fabric that had held her hair – once white – was stained red.
He could vaguely hear someone screaming her name. He didn't know who it was. Why were they shouting? Why weren't they helping her? His throat hurt.
Something struck his stomach. Then he felt the cold. He was used to it, but it was wrong. It was heavy and solid and wrong. He felt his mouth open and something hot bubble over his lips. He tasted blood.
His knees buckled and he sank to the floor. The cold twisted and he heard someone scream. His throat hurt more. The cold withdrew. He collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
He felt someone grab his neck, forcing him to look up. He didn't resist.
He heard someone tut.
"C'mon now 'Gaya. Can't you do better than that?"
A chuckle. The face was fading now, along with the grin that adorned it.
The hand holding him withdrew and he let his head hit the ground. His breathing became shallow and the edges of his vision blurred and blackened. All he could focus on was the smudge of black and red lying away from him.
The shadow which he had not been aware was hanging over him gave one last chuckle before flickering and disappearing. He paid it little notice.
He heard something. It was muffled as though his ears were stuffed with cloth. It was getting hard to breathe.
Another shadow fell across him. Through hazy eyes he could see a large smear of black, a stripe of pink and a blotch of fiery orange. He felt hands on him. They were warm against his cold skin. More blood bubbled from his lips.
The voice cried out. Something about a Captain. Was the fuzzy patch looking for a Captain? There wasn't anyone around here. Just him. They must be in the wrong place. He tried to breathe. Something liquid blocked his throat. He coughed.
The voice sobbed and the hands became frantic.
He felt heavy. He tried to keep his eyelids open and fixed on the heap. But it was fading. The hands were still on him and he felt something hot on his skin but he was going numb. It was hard to think and his thoughts wading through thick tar.
His eyelids drooped and the voice got louder and then began to fade.
His muscles unclenched and he went limp. His eyes closed.
The voice screamed.
He sat by her bed, his hands fisting his white coat. His mouth was pursed into a tense line and his jaw was clenched so hard it hurt. He blinked quickly, trying to stop the tears. His throat was filled with a large and painful lump that stopped him from swallowing.
He couldn't see her face. She was covered by a white sheet and only a vague outline of her shape remained. He reached out and his hand shook. His lungs drew in sharp breath of their accord and his chest quivered.
He tried to swallow but he choked and a sob wrenched itself from his throat. The tears rolled down his cheeks and beaded his eyelashes with crystal.
His hand dropped to his side but before it fell, it was caught by another, more feminine one. He looked up into pained sky blue eyes. She clasped his hand and he collapsed onto her. She wrapped her arms around him and let her own sobs join his. He ignored the ache from under his bandages as she pulled him closer.
She clutched at his clothes, holding on tight and burying her face in his shoulder.
He couldn't be angry at her. Not now. If she had lived, maybe. But not now. Now it would feel like an insult. He didn't feel much of anything now, save utter soul crushing grief and a guilt that made his stomach feel like lead.
Someone was crying. Someone was consoling a distraught woman who clung to him like he was her lifeline. Someone was feeling an empty, numb sensation crawl across his skin. But it wasn't him. Not yet.
In the back of his mind, a tiny part that rejected the numbness, he noticed the door gently swing shut and the feel of Isane's reiatsu fade away. He felt grateful for a moment, before turning back to the sheet and what was under it. He had almost lifted the sheet before. He had wanted to see her face, one last time. He made no move to go to do so now. He just tightened his grip on the woman crying in his arms and let his eyes stay fixed on the bed.
He stood, the wind whipping his coat and pulling at his hair. The sun had gone down, but the sky was still hanging on with desperate fingers to the last vestiges of sunlight.
He was a little way outside the Seireitei and past the districts of the Rukongai. He'd been there earlier. The bringer of heart breaking news. He had left early.
It was here, in this desolate yet somehow quietly proud spot that her gravestone stood. It was uniform, the same as the countless thousands arranged in military rows, stretching on as far as he could see. Her name was engraved on it, along with the name of her beloved Zanpakuto and her rank. The fresh earth in front of it was covered in flowers.
He sensed someone come up behind him and saw her standing beside him, watching the disappearing light. Not moving or looking his way, she felt for his hand and grasped it. He allowed her to and squeezed back.
"I'm sorry." She said.
He didn't know what for. He said as much.
"I was too late."
Yes, she was. But it wasn't expected of her to be there at all, let alone in time to save her life. He said this to her, gruffly and didn't let go of her hand. He saw her smile sadly but her eyes regained a little of their usual brightness.
He didn't know how long they stood there, until the last of the evening light had drained away and the moon and stars took their positions in the night sky. The graves looked even more sombre and defiant when bathed in the white moonlight.
"I'm going to kill him." He said, breaking the silence.
He felt her hand clench around his own.
"I know."
He wanted to ask why she wasn't asking him not to, to see if he could be saved. He didn't, but she answered anyway.
"He almost killed you. I'll never forgive him for that."
He finally turned to face her and stared at her as she lifted her face towards the moon, serene. The light made her skin glow white and her hair burn like dancing fire.
A tiny smile, sad and peaceful, quirked her lips and she kept her eyes closed.
"He killed my friend. He almost killed my Captain. When you find him, I want to be there."
She opened her eyes and looked at him with an intensity that took his breath away.
He looked at her for a long moment.
"Alright."
She fixed the smile back onto her lips and once again turned her face to the sky, drinking in the cool breeze and the miles of infinite nothing above them.
He did the same and they stood together for a long time, relishing each other's presence and security.
There was a fire burning in both their hearts, but it was tempered with cold patience.
They would find him. It was only a matter of time.
Their first kiss wasn't something magical, or something fairytale. They had been sitting, closer than most, alone in the office. Wind howled outside and despite it only late afternoon, the sky was dark.
He wasn't sure what events led up to that moment. Only that somehow, he was kissing her and she wasn't pulling away. They weren't gentle, nor were they slow. They were desperate and animal and together. They stopped before it got too far, not wanting to lose themselves. They pulled away with bruised lips, burning lungs and the unwhispered promise of more.
They both wanted to get rid of the memories. She, of what had been. He, of what could have been. Both held onto each other, each the others lifeline.
It was never said, when it changed. When the desperation turned into security, when the animalism turned into appreciation. They both knew, and made it into a game they both enjoyed playing. Routine. She came to like waking up to breakfast left on the table for her, and he came to take pleasure in waking up in a warm bed, an equally warm body by his side. They both enjoyed the feeling of possession the other evoked. So they kept playing and knowing the other knew without ever saying a word.
He felt blood soak into the fabric of his clothing. Clotted blood stuck his sleeve to his skin already and he was favouring one leg, the other trembled under his weight. One hand held the hilt of his faithful sword with unwavering precision. A cut running through one eye hazed his vision and made him blink the red liquid away. His breath was painful and laboured but his hand did not shake. The tip of the blade rested on the fragile neck of the man who was sprawled on the ground in front of him.
"Well now 'Gaya. Finally caught me eh? Well? Now what're you gonna do?"
Even now he mocked him. His jaw clenched and he swayed on his feet. Far above him, he could hear and feel the battle still raging.
"Hesitating are yeh?" the man tutted. "This ain't the place for that."
He resisted the temptation to sneer and adjusted his grip on his sword, making the man on the floor tense as the blade pressed against his skin.
He fought the grim smile that threatened to blossom on his face.
"I'm not hesitating. I'm waiting."
His hostage cocked and eyebrow with a confused expression on his face. He was about to speak when he sensed a familiar reiatsu heading towards them at speed. His face slackened.
"I see you waited."
He cocked his head but didn't let his eyes stray from the prone man.
"I did promise."
She gave a little giggle and looked interestedly at the other.
"Ran'..." he whispered, looking up at her. His eyes, for once, were open and their blue was confused.
She looked down and a frown creased her brow.
She greeted him, her voice carefully blank.
He smiled.
"Ya gonna help me out here? For old times sake?" he asked, his voice hopeful.
The blade pressed into his skin again and he stilled. Its owner was about to speak but a deceptively delicate hand on his shoulder calmed him. The action was not missed by the man on the floor.
"You want to know something?" she asked airily, "I loved you, once. I thought to myself, 'He wouldn't do these things they're talking about. It must have been Aizen. He can still be saved.' But then I saw you kill my friend." She wagged a finger at him. "And then you almost killed my Captain. I can't ever forgive you for that."
She shook and her face betrayed her turmoil. His free hand sought one of hers and she grasped it gratefully.
He let his eyes wander to the point at which his sword touched the skin of the other man. It would be so easy. So very simple to apply pressure and watch as the blood spilled from his throat.
"You killed Momo." He said. "I don't care that you almost killed me. What I care about is that she is dead because of you!" he snarled. "You hurt Rangiku. You made my lieutenant cry."
The man on the floor was looking up at them, shocked.
"So, what? This is about revenge?" he laughed, regaining some of his infamous personality. "A little dark for you ain't it 'Gaya?"
The wielder of the sword could cold his crooked smirk and it spread across his face.
"Maybe so. But that doesn't change the fact that I want to see you dead."
His breathing quickened and his heart beat out a rhythm against his chest.
The obvious relish in his words seemed to shake the other man whose eyes flitted to the woman standing before him.
"Ran'?" he said. A tiny note of pleading in his voice.
She frowned and moved away.
Fear gave way to anger.
"So you're going to what? Put me down like a sick dog?"
The bitter smiles he got in return made his breath hitch.
He adjusted the grip on his sword and stared down its length. Expectation warred with want in his mind.
He felt the woman by his side squeeze his hand and he felt his stomach tremble.
"This is no mercy killing." He reassured the man on the floor.
"It's an execution."
End
Woah. That got kinda dark! It was going to be a whole story, but I don't think I can actually warp events well enough yet. Maybe later. If people want it. Review and tell me if you do please!