She stood, holding her ground, refusing to move. Her eyes filled with anger and barely controlled rage. But not hatred. No, he noted, not in those clear bright blue eyes, flecked with a grey so light that it was hardly visible. He didn't need to meet her gaze to know that. She had been his sole source of sanity during that last few months. The reason for his lack of regret towards his actions. She knew nothing of this, of course. He doubted he would ever be able to put his reasons into words, even for her. He smiled, but felt far from happy. Sure, she was here, but… but… it gave him only a small sense of relief. Far from normal.
He always smiled; it hid his true reasons for his deception, his treachery. He doubted she would believe his excuses should he tell her anyway. Normally, he could easily accumulate a string a sarcastic comments that would prompt his opponent to draw their sword, but now, words failed him. She seemed to be expecting him to speak. She wanted an explanation. She deserved that, at the least. It was a shame he could not give her a worthy one.
All he did was stand and stare, same as she. He had missed this woman, more that he would ever care to admit, but he would never be able to tell her. He knew that, the livid rage on her lovely face, morphing those exquisite features into a look that told him his actions were unforgiveable. Even by her. It hurt him to see it, but knew it was deserved. He could never even begin to make amends; he would never have the chance anyway. Not now. He knew he would die in duration of his plan, it was an undisputed inevitability, he hoped it wouldn't cause her anymore pain, but knew otherwise. Despite everything he had done, he knew she still loved him that was the reason for the rage, the anger, the pain in her eyes. The reason why she refused to speak. The reason she showed no hatred towards him.
Would it have been easier if she had? He didn't know. It would have if it were in reverse. If it were him hating her. But he didn't, he could never. He assumed it was the same for her, this woman; the sole woman who actually mattered was not disposable. Maybe that was why Aizen had set him this impossible task, to bring about her end. Something that he could never do. It only have him loath the orchestrator even more, the solemn oath solemn oath that bound them, the vow he's made to kill his so-called Captain.
He wished that she would move, a blink, a twitch of her hand, anything. Just to prove that this was not some form of illusion created by Aizen. But she stayed perfectly still, as did he. The last time he had seem her had been that day, the day of betrayal, where she had held him at sword point and restrained him. He had apologised then, it had sounded sarcastic even to his ears. Memories flooded his head, but he remained fixated on her. Only her.
For once, he opened his eyes and allowed the wide mocking smile to fall from his lips. For a moment, her eyes widened, he caught a tiny glimpse of vulnerability before they hardened once more, he opened his mouth, but closed it again. He saw something slide down her cheek. Tears. He had truly done it. Broken his promise, she was crying. He wished he could approach her, pull her into an embrace and sooth those tears away. He remained at a distance. He was, admittedly, mildly shocked, her face remained adamantly angry, her eyes still filled with rage, but still those tear came, silently streaking down her refined cheeks.
Guilt. It crashed over him like a wave, higher that any height his Shinsō could conjure. Once again he opened his mouth. He knew he would be leaving soon, and never returning, he wished for her to have something other that pain to remember him with. Some words for her to think of. But, he had no right to give them. Not anymore. He closed his eyes and uttered those words. Streaking energy reached his ears, followed by a loud gasp and the sound of her impact with the ground. It was only then that he looked upon her again.
He reached her form in less that a second, she was alive. He could never have killed her. He lent over her and pressed his lips to her forehead, brushing the loose strands of hair away with the tip of his nose. He allowed once some tear to drop from his eye, filled with regret for the pain he had caused her. "Ran" he whispered "I am Sorry. I will make this up to you. I will make this better." He kissed her forehead again, not daring to go any further. He had no right. "I Love you Ran, remember that." then he was gone. He knew he would not see her again and it pained him. But it was necessary.