The harsh cry of strings plagued the halls of the ninth division. The guitar wailed and cried a melancholic melody that moved and disturbed those who encountered the rhythm.
Empty bottles of sake littered his room as he continued his rough assault of the instrument. The sounds weren't smooth or soothing, they were fierce and angry. No emotion but pure hate and fury came forth.
His skin sleeked with sweat as he gnashed his teeth together, his eyes clenched shut and every muscle in his body tightened. His fingers burned as they continued, string slicing through flesh and the warmth of his blood covered his senses.
But he didn't stop, he allowed the blood to flow from his finger tips and coat the strings. His breathing growing more ragged, his posture tightening in a strangled slanted stance, the guitar pressed firmly against his lower abdomen. Yet he didn't stop.
He continued, too lost in thought to care that his subordinates hung onto every note each daring the other to check in on their Lieutenant. None made a step towards his room, knowing that this nightly practice had become a regular habit of his and whilst on some nights the sounds of soothing acoustic lulled them to sleep, it was the other nights where the music grew angry and hateful that they feared the most.
She took tentative steps towards his quarters. It was the fourth night that the sounds of his wailing guitar haunted her. Her own division disturbed by the notes that drifted into their barracks. Although, they weren't nearly as harsh as they were at this proximity.
The music had crawled along her skin and left a deafening impression. She could feel his pain in each strum and her heart stung at the thought, as his own pain lingered with hers and the music consumed her. Embedding her emotions with his, twisting and contorting them to reveal a mass of sorrow so dark and deep that it would take a lifetime to crawl out of.
But her heart cried for his. She needed to be there. Surely the space they could share together would console them.
She came at a standstill facing the hard wooden door before her, the notes of his hateful cry leaking through it and encasing her. Almost intoxicating, as if it had been the notes that made her feet move towards him. Controlling her hand as it pulled on the handle and confronting the scene in front of her.
The sight of scattered sake bottles wasn't strange for her but seeing it in his room disturbed her, chilling her to the bone.
He hadn't noticed her entry most likely still distracted by his playing. The blood that leaked from his fingers across the guitar and onto the floor was the next thing she noticed. Her sky blue eyes widen and the sadness that enveloped them as her heart constricted taking in the chilling sight.
She wasted no time marching towards him and throwing her delicate pale hand onto his. Startling him out of his playing. A tight grip formed over his hand as she looked up to him. Her eyes questioning, breaking his heart again and again.
"Shuuhei, what are you doing to yourself?" she pleaded, moving his hand away from blood soaked strings and closer to her. She inspected the wounds, they weren't too deep but they couldn't be pleasant.
Was he intentionally trying to hurt himself? Blood trailed into her own hand and she wasted no time applying the little medical training she knew. The low humming green glow emitted from her palm and encompassed his fingers.
He stared at her, not trusting his shaky vision if it was truly her that stood before him. Healing him? He scoffed at the thought. "Rangiku?" he questioned his voice unsure as he shakily breathed out her name. She didn't save him a glance but her strawberry blonde locks bounced as she nodded in answer.
Jerking his hand away from her grasp, as if only now realising the pain that seared throughout him, he clutched it to his chest and removed the guitar placing it against the wall. He turned his back unable to look at her as another bout of anger raged. "What are you doing here?" he spoke through gritted teeth concentrating his vision on the wall ahead of him, clutching his fist so tightly that his wounds reopened.
Rangiku looked up at him, her mouth agape and eyes wide as she watched her dear friend flinch away from her touch as if she had burned him. "Shuu" she managed in a soft voice laced with hurt from his sudden action towards her.
She could see him tense his jaw as she spoke to him. "I'm just trying to help you." She let out not as strongly as she was hoping for.
Shuuhei closed his eyes allowing her soft voice to wrap around him and ebb his searing pain. She didn't deserve him being cold to her. She had been through just as much as he – worse even. She had lost a lover. Although she would never admit it, he knew that Gin meant much more to her then she would ever let on.
Maybe that's why it hurt that much more because . . . He stopped the thought not allowing his foolish admiration carry him away. She didn't need another man drooling over her. He hated how men viewed her, disregarding her higher status. Ignoring her position and ogling her as if she was a piece of meat and they starved men in desperate need of a taste.
But never once did she allow there stares to disturb her. Instead she would thrive under the admiration but not like a floosy would. No, there was so much more to her. So much and he just couldn't pinpoint it. The thought of her drove him nuts. Not only was she beautiful physically, any man would cherish the body she offered but he cared so much more for her then just her body. It was her kind words and soft heart. She seemed so strong but just as gentle. Everything about her was captivating.
He knew for a while now that he had long surpassed his crush. His feelings for her had flourished into so much more that he couldn't even comprehend it. What he would give to tell her but he knew now that she would never ever return his feelings.
The joys of unrequited love . . .
He turned towards her, his expression softening as he took in her doe eyed stare. "Sorry" he muttered his gaze falling to the floor as a light dust of pink coloured his cheeks. She said nothing and the silence grew unbearable.
Tentatively he held out his injured hand and with nothing else said she took it softly and healed it for him. The silence stretched, neither daring to look at the other, "Done" her voice broke through the silence. Her voice a sweet song lighting his darkness. He only hoped that maybe one day he could return the favour. That he could offer just a fraction of what she gave him.
He'd give her his heart but only when she could take it but Shuuhei knew she had always had it. It was hers and he will never doubt that she would care for it. Praying that the beat of his would repair hers and maybe one day the beat of hers would be for him.