Growing Pains
He'd overdone it again, Renji realised, as he collapsed with a gasp, heat radiating from his skin.
The strength in his legs sunk with the setting sun as twilight bloomed across the Academy grounds. He grimaced as the harsh earth tore into his itching, raw flesh, the ache only tempered by the cool afternoon breeze.
It was no secret that Renji was struggling with Kido.
Despite his best efforts, even committing to practice outside of class, he just couldn't seem to make it click.
Truthfully, Renji was far more in his element sparring. He had taken comfortably to using a sword; the weapon fitting into his hand as though it belonged. The tall, lean build he had grown into allowed him significant strength and reach with which to overwhelm his opponents, making up for what he may have lacked in technique.
It made sense, he supposed. Growing up in Rukongai, he had been forced to fight most of his life just to stay alive.
The complex incantations, however, didn't come to him as easily. The magic sparking from his fingers crackled into an unstable energy, building and boiling over before his very eyes. Each failed attempt to replicate a basic spell was leaving a physical wear upon his body.
Still, despite the failure, he would pull himself back up, believing that he was pushing closer, that he had been able to support that energy for just a second longer than before.
If nothing else, he was determined. Stubborn, and bull-headed.
He did not want to fail after having made it this far.
He had promised their friends, he had promised Rukia, that by becoming Shinigami they would make a better life for themselves.
Renji lay still as she approached, soot and sweat seeping into his Academy uniform. While her shadow was a welcome contrast to the hours he'd spent under the beating sun, Rukia still loomed over him, arms folded and lips set into a tight frown.
"Fool," she admonished with a sigh, stooping to kneel beside him. "Did you go and blow yourself up again?"
"It's not that bad." Renji waved her off, reaching up to wipe away the dirt smudging his cheek.
With an exhale, Rukia's delicate fingers traced the skin of his shoulder, and Renji felt his breath carry in an uneven pattern. He wanted to ask her what she was doing but couldn't bring himself to speak; suddenly conscious of the rough, parched tissue lining the back of his throat.
It was as though he was finally grasping the exhaustion his body felt. For once, he willingly into her touch, not afraid that she might notice the effect it was having on him.
He was too tired to care, allowing himself to indulge momentarily.
Rukia wasn't as skilled of a healer as someone like Kotetsu-san was, but all Academy students had had the basics of first aid drilled into them. She could handle the minor bruises comfortably.
It wasn't unusual for Renji to receive assistance from a classmate, and he was privy to the intricacies of the treatment. With Rukia, however, it was different.
Her hands hovered inches away from the naked skin of his back, pulsing with familiar spiritual pressure. The feeling that enveloped him was surprisingly warm, in spite of her zankaptou and, at times, cold exterior. It carried a sense of comfort, the closest thing he had felt to a home in all his years.
It broke through that demeanour, showing that, for all her hard expressions, there was care and affection that she held for him, one that could be communicated effortlessly, wordlessly.
"There, done." She said after a moment, nodding in satisfaction at her healing. "Better?"
Heat emanated from his cheeks at their proximity, a sensation he could no longer attribute to the burns that had once etched his skin. He scratched the back of his neck, his gaze carrying upwards.
"Yeah, uh… I'm fine."
He wasn't.