A/N Hello! This idea has been nagging at me for a while now, and it finally bursted when I watched a GinRan amv featuring the song 'What Hurts the Most' by Rascal Flatts. This oneshot expresses my love for this bittersweet pairing. Hope you enjoy and reviews are always appreciated!
Nightingale
Warnings: unbeta'ed
Disclaimer:I don't own Bleach.
The sun overhead shone vibrantly, its blinding rays of a golden satin. With its brilliant shades of rose and auburn, the sunset sky banished the ivory clouds with a light breeze that rustled the trees' verdant leaves. It was beautiful, its rays bringing a ribbon of hope to all the children lying on the filthy floors of the darkened alleyways hungry and weak. From her porch, Rangiku watched as the yellow orb sunk lower and lower, eventually disappearing into the horizon. Every day, she would stand here gazing into the distance without fail. She would clasp her sun kissed hands together and entwine her long fingers, praying for him. With her arms returned to her sides and hanging limply, she retreated into her home. As she glanced down at the several broken floorboards, Rangiku frowned ever so slightly. 'Looks like those need fixing soon...'
She was living in better condition than most. She had a roof over her head, sheltering her from the wintry winds and the sweltering heat. She had food, no matter how meagre they were and water to quench her thirst. Clothes were not a problem as she would sew them back every time she spied a tear. They were fighting in a war, for three years now. Rations had been reduced as the days gone by, yet there were no indications of the war ending soon. She still remembered the day they announced those who would be fighting in the war. They had gathered at heart of the city, with the representatives calling forth the young men from a raised platform. Her eyes had been wide with fearfulness as name after name had been uttered with indifference. But then, her heart had dropped when his name rang across the fields. 'No ... It can't be. No way, out of so many ... why?'
They had been given a day to prepare. Alone in their quarters, they had ripped at each other's garments with merciless hands. He had kissed her with such fervor, it had frightened her deeply. But she had pushed it away and desperately dug her fingers into his silky tresses. She wanted to tell him not to go and stay here with her. She wanted him to grant her one selfish request, but she kept silent. Stroking her cheek gently, he had lowered her carefully onto the futon and breathed indiscernible words to her ears. Then he had opened his eyes. Under his intense gaze, Rangiku had felt her eyes brim with tears. He was going to leave her. When they were young, he had left her often. But back then, she knew he would come back with a handful of dried persimmons and that infuriating grin that never seemed to leave his face. This time though ... there was no guarantee that he would return. What if he left for good? What if he died? She couldn't stop them anymore when the feeling of dread moulded with horror filled her soul. As the tears slid down her face, she saw him move to brush his lips against her moistened cheeks and softly kiss her nose. He was saying sorry, consoling her saddened heartache with a touch. A touch he wouldn't be able to offer for a long time. Every caress on her waist and every kiss on her neck were apologies for what was to come next.
Time seemed to fly by with a flap of a wing. It was time. At sunset, he untangled himself from her and slid out from the covers. Reaching out to him, she whispered his name in anguish. He didn't reply nor did he look back to see her tear-stricken face but instead, began to don his captain haori. Tying his sword to his waist, he had remained at the door for several moments. Rangiku had buried herself into the sheets, unable to say goodbye. She would break down and she didn't want him to see her like this. As she covered her face with her trembling hands, she heard his light footsteps fade away. When she could no longer feel his presence, she clutched onto the pillow and sobbed.
Miles away, he heard her distraught screams echo through the night. His heart clenched with guilt as he walked on, leaving the woman he cherished with each passing step.
...
Months have gone by without her hearing from him. In order to prevent any sort of information from being intercepted by the enemy, the authorities had prohibited communication through letters. Slowly, the pain eased and life went on. Every morning, she would wake an hour before sunrise and cleanse herself down at the creek. Away from prying eyes, the running water helped drown her despair and numb the grief. After dressing herself in modest clothing of a single hue, Rangiku would trudge up the hill back to her home just in time to see the sun rise up to the heavens. Following a small breakfast, she would sit in the veranda and bathe in the sunlight. With her eyes closed, she smiled when the sounds of young birds circling above her and chirping cheerily reached her ears. Lifting her palm, the pair of birds would rest on her fingers. Sometimes, she would sprinkle some sunflower seeds by the grass and the birds would dive for them in earnest. At those times, she found her heart twist with unimaginable pain.
She missed him, missed having a companion to share her thoughts. The first few weeks were the worst. In the day, Rangiku had found it difficult to concentrate on anything. Dishes would slip through her numbed fingers and shatter into pieces of an intricate puzzle. She would stare at the pieces in silence, at lost of what to do. Her mind always strayed towards him. Was he eating well? How was he sleeping? Her concern for his wellbeing grew each passing day. She has never seen war, but she could see the scars that came with it. Soldiers returned home, traumatised and distrustful of others. There was no light in their eyes as they remained unresponsive to the cries of their loved ones. It was as though they were puppets, waiting for their masters' commands. She bit her lip often. Would Gin ... be like that? Would he not remember her?
Every doubt gnawed at her, making her stomach wring with worry.
At night, it was eerily quiet. The crescent moon hung high above the wisps of clouds. Wolves would howl and bats screeched around her, breaking the silence. Rangiku would shiver in the cold, her prayers always for him. Yearning for his strong embrace, she would wrap her arms around her quivering frame and cry herself to sleep.
...
She had been down by the river when she received the news. She had been a particularly good mood, as the war showed signs of receding. They were in the final days of the skirmish. Her heart, a golden harp strummed by the goddesses sang with mirth. Humming a tune, she couldn't stop the smile from gracing her lovely features.
But it fell from her face when a seated officer arrived with his lips pursed and a slip of paper in hand. She had thought the world had stopped when she heard those words pass through his mouth. The fabric she had been holding slid out of her fingers and into the river. She took no notice of it as it glided with the waters. Vaguely, she recalled nodding dumbly before waving him away. It felt like everything was suspended in water. Everything had happened so slowly, yet so rapidly she couldn't keep up. The messenger had left immediately with pity in his eyes, letting the speechless woman stare into flowing rivulet with growing denial.
No. It was impossible. He was lying! He couldn't have-!
She couldn't remember when the tears came but when she did, her eyes were already red and puffy. The tip of her nose was of a peachy shade, whether from the cold or from crying, she couldn't care less. Time seemed to slow down, just serving to fling her foolish hopes away. She reached up to wrap her fingers around the necklace dangling from her neck in a manner that was almost mechanic. Her heart pounded speedily with her eyes squeezed shut, as if to shield herself from reality. He was safe. He was safe. He was safe. But these words failed to hide the truth and the torment slammed into her like a reeling hurricane. As Rangiku let her raw hollow cries echo through the forest, the officer's words continued to haunt her.
'Third Division Captain, Ichimaru Gin has been killed in action.'
...
She couldn't remember when she had dragged herself back to the shack, nor could she remember anything else. Everything was a blur, seeming to race by her as she stood frozen to place. She was alone, forever.
'Gin ...' She let her head fall to the side, unshed tears gathering at the corner of her cerulean eyes. Her body held up by a thin wall, Rangiku stared into nothing. She could almost see him. His back faced her as she reached for him. Yet, her fingers never neared. There was always a distance between them. When she extended her arm for him, just to touch his shoulder lightly, he seemed to back away. With his bleached haori fluttering behind him, his silver-tipped strands would dance with the wind. He would look at her with his trademark grin which never wavered, despite the terror evident in her face. He had been there for her, since the very moment she could remember. With his sly ways and mischievous intelligence, they managed to stay alive on the streets. They were always together, inseparable. For a long time, he had always been a part of her. He made her feel complete and happy. Whenever she was down, he was there with his strong shoulders and hushed whispers. He always knew the right things to say. With his body, he sheltered her from everything and kept her safe. She couldn't live without him, he had embedded himself too deeply into her heart and life. And she had long poured out her soul for him.
His fingers poised just above her exposed neck, the tips would gently run down to her collarbone and stray to the centre where her necklace lay. The stone glimmered as he held it carefully. His lips would widen at the sight of her wearing the only jewellery he had given her. She was still thinking of him. Hesitating for a mere second, he would rest his slender hand over her heart and feel the strong beat. It reassured him that she was well nourished, that she was alive and waiting for him. As his fingers left her skin, he would regard her for one more moment before drifting away without a word.
He had always left her in the dark, never telling her anything unless he deemed necessary. In a way, it protected her from the injustice that roamed the streets of Rukongai. But all these years, she still felt this barrier between them. She never knew him the way she wanted, there was always an air of mystery coating him. He had given her everything but she hadn't given him anything. It was then that she realised that she was too reliant on him. What would happen if he didn't come back? That question had never felt so daunting until now. She always reminded herself that he would be back, that he would never leave her. But now, he was gone and she was alone, in a world so cold.
It was raining. The sharp shards pierced the layers of her heart as she lay slumped by the doorway, her eyes unfocused. How long has it been? To Rangiku, it felt like centuries. The pain didn't go away, plaguing her very existence. He was everywhere, his presence heavy in the atmosphere around her. He would want her to live on happily, even if it meant forgetting him. But how could she, when he was everything she had ever had? All her life, she had only known him. Every morning, he was lying there beside her with his arm around her thin waist pushing her back against his lean chest. She would sigh contentedly and drift off to sleep with his distinctive marigold scent smothering her senses.
She had to be strong ... but it was hard to stand up again. It was too painful, the path bore too much sorrow and she was tired. Her body was weary with heartache. As she was once again assaulted with his scent, Rangiku let the tears fall one last time. One more time ... I need to see him once more. With sleep heavy in her mind, she smiled faintly at the sakura petals that cascaded down the opulent canvas above and decided to do just that.
...
Hueco Mundo. She had prepared herself for the raging rattles of machine guns and the soldiers' cries of mercy as they were sentenced to Death's awaiting arms. But when she slowed to a stop atop a sandy slope, only silence greeted her unannounced arrival. Pulling her robe closer, Rangiku braced herself for the tempest gale. Her strawberry blonde locks whipped at her face, lashing at her almost brutally. When the frosty wind finally subsided, she took a good look around the clearing. It was empty, the void left by the bloodshed made her heart sink. The silence was abundant, enveloping everything with the strength of a spatial vortex. A dark dome was pulled across the sky, locking away the clear blue for eternity. In the darkness, the sun had bowed its head to the everlasting ascension of lunar sphere. The moon, shaped like two fingers circling the scanty neck of its prey resembled the grim reaper's scythe as it hung above the heads.
It looked like a land for the forsaken, even the celestial beings didn't dwell here. The euphoria had withered in the quiet like an autumn rose with the dawn of the wintry nightmare. Inferno had torn through the forest of lush green, leaving only a barren land. Crimson rivers flowed through the labyrinth and the clouds were painted a deep scarlet as fumes of death rose into the air. The moonlight flooded the austere glade and illuminated the blanched desert. Bodies of fallen troops laid unmoving on the battlefield, the memories of their loved ones had long disappeared with the breeze. As they were left forgotten on the eclipse of war, their souls rose up to meet the Lord above.
There was no life. New buds failed to bloom under the waking gaze of the waxing moon. The stench of blood and death filled her nostrils, urging her to leave. She stood her ground and peered over the clearing, beseeching to not catch a glimpse of silver among the corpses. Her heart felt lighter when there was none. When she had been told of his demise, somehow she was skeptical. Deep inside her, she had always felt this connection with him. It was akin to the red string of fate, but it appeared to be even stronger. A part of her mind persisted in telling her that he was alive but the irrational side of her, the sentimental Rangiku had been convinced that he was dead. Overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation, she had quickly succumbed to the loss and grief. It wasn't until she was forced to think, that a nagging feeling bloomed inside her, pleading for her to re-ponder. Over the years, she had lost pets, dogs and cats alike. When she had mourned for them, there was always this hollowness in her but with Gin, there was none.
He was alive, and she knew it. That was why she was here, where the battle had taken place. She waited for him. For how long, it remained insignificant. Gradually, she grew tired and her eyes begged to close indefinitely. As she became lost in the midst of reality and illusion, her head snapped up. Breathing heavily, she looked around for him. But nothing had changed since she last checked. Curling in the sand, Rangiku brought her frozen fingers to her mouth and exhaled. Warm puffs of air vanished in an instant into the quietude.
...
It was at midnight when at last he came to her, with his kimono soiled and bloodied. As he fixed his narrowed slits onto her curved back, he silently made his way to her. Reaching out his pale hands to her auburn tresses, he slowly soothed her worries. He frowned when he noticed her slightly dampened cheeks.
"What yer cryin' fer, Rangiku?" His tone was tender as he whispered softly into the night. I never said I won't come back fer ya, silly girl.
He sealed his silent promise to her when streams of light peeked over the skyline. As he bent down to kiss her lightly on the lips, he vowed to never leave her again, whether she wanted it or not.