author's note: This work has taken too long for me to finish. And unfortunately, the result wasn't what I expected it to be. I apologize to lipgloss247. Try if you can find some sense in here.
OC is owned by lipgloss247.
Bleach and all its canon characters are owned by Tite Kubo.
Plot is by opium - catharsis
Pristine
By:
o p i u m – c a t h a r s i s
For:
lipgloss247
(Quizilla)
The sky is tumbling down, and with it comes the hail of bombs and bullets of mankind.
—cruel. Cruel. Cure ill.
It was oddly quiet in the room. The candlelight flickered; sending eerie shadows dancing on the walls and ceiling. There had been no electricity since last week because of the bombings. The food supply is starting dwindle, and refugees are increasing.
The silences between them are increasing, just as faith (love) and time (chances) are drying up.
Rules are rules. Don't do this, never say that—and never instigate relationships with humans (who were lesser than they).
"Do you really think that you, of all people, can abide by your so-called rules?" Varunee teased.
Oh, she had a point.
Her hands were lithe and white. Small and pretty as Varunee held them with his.
"See? Although yours are bigger, we still match. Regardless of being human or not."
Because shinigami or not, they belonged on the same plane (once—when Renji's flesh was whole and alive). Therefore, they can love (the rest can follow after).
Varunee was a patron, a martyr—even to Renji's eyes. She did not fear death ("Its okay, at least I'll be with you there"), nor did she fear the oppressors ("We are all equal in the face of Armageddon").
She opened her house for all the wounded, all the guerillas. She tended to them, fed and bathed them (like a good mother).
Renji watched, fearing for her life and the time that the enemy would come and take her away
"Once you get there, you won't remember me or anyone. It will be like starting anew."
Pause.
"Oh it's alright. As long as you wait for me, it will be fine. We can restart there, if you are willing to."
He was more than willing—Renji will make sure that they will meet at the gates of Soul Society.
"There's always another option." Renji reasoned, looking at her tensed back.
Varunee was unyielding, "I don't want that option."
"But Varunee, you are striving to do something impossible."
There was anger on her eyes as she looked at him levelly.
"Fighting for my country isn't impossible."
She was ahead of her generation, Renji knew. There was no other woman like her—in the 90's, in the time of chaos and war. She was just too clean, not just bleached-and-starched clean, but innocent and unselfish.
Because Varunee was…—
The last happy hour.
They drank and drank, until the alcohol is the aesthetic pain and not Love.
"Peace is our goal. I will not let this oppression happen," she said it so proudly, so eloquently.
A kiss. That was Varunee's parting gift to Renji. It was swift and gentle—feathery on his lips.
She smiled at him wanly, before disappearing into the shadows. Renji knew it would be a while before they will see each other again.
Tormented and bruised by the enemy, Varunee felt like giving up. But what good would it do her? She asked countless times.
Would it warm the cold cell she was in?
Would it give her water to drink?
Would it lessen the pain?
It may. It will—she has decided upon pondering one night.
"…Death is a better option though." Varunee screamed at the empty walls.
Giving up will wipe her burdens, all except for guilt.
Guilt only which death can silence.
Renji watched the world pit itself on destruction.
With impassivity, he tried to understand the human behavior; the putrefaction of ideals, the abortion and disregard for life, and the hell that Varunee must have been experiencing at the moment.
The war ended in treaties and ultimatums. Arrests and surrenders. And there was a lot to rebuild, a lot to recover from the ashes.
A lot of work for the shinigami, too.
Renji looked for signs of her; any trace, any sightings…
She walked—with her crutches—along the lively sidewalks. Smiles, laughter, and chatter filled the air. Varunee's generation was coming to an end. The world has restarted again, hiding its scars and wounds inside history records. She was part of those wounds, and was glad of the generation turnover. At last, she can join him there.
So, she walked and walked and walked. Until he was there, standing in the distance, like a finishing line. Renji smiled.
"Welcome to your new life."
The years, the incarcerated decades, rushed away and she found herself crying and laughing at the same time.
...—Pristine.