Title: Living Again
Author: Akuni
Universe: Bleach
Genre: Drama, Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: R (mature themes & sexuality)
Pairing: Renji/Rukia, Ichigo/Orihime, Renji/Ichigo
Spoilers: Hueco Mundo arc
Warning: Character deaths
Word Count: 5212
Summary: The war is long and bloody. After the war, the survivors must learn to live again.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, I'm just borrowing it for a while.
Distribution: Also posted on my LJ. Please ask if you want to share it. :)
Dedication: If you've ever been lost and needed to learn to carry on, then this is for you.
A/N: I've had this sitting around since May, so I decided to finish it and polish it up. This is not my usual fare. It's a different sort of story, in a different sort of style. In case the pairing list is confusing, this is most definitely a RenIchi fic. I think that becomes apparent about halfway through.
SPOILERS regarding pairings and character deaths are at the very bottom of the fic, for those who need to know before they read.
Living Again
No one had expected the war to last very long. Somehow the idea had been that a few weeks or months of skirmishes would lead up to one big, final battle, in which the Good Guys would defeat the Bad Guys and return home victorious.
No one had expected the war to last several long, difficult years.
After the first year, there was still hope that the terrible conflict would soon come to an end. Shinigami and humans who'd put their lives on hold to join the fight began making plans for 'after the war' – a phrase that was heard more and more frequently.
There'd been a lot of promotions soon after the war began, both on and off the field. With three captain's seats open, the Gotei 13 couldn't ignore facing the issue any longer, even though replacing the missing captains meant accepting that they'd turned traitor and would not be coming back.
To no one's surprise, Abarai Renji passed the tests and was named captain of the 5th Division. The move was celebrated by all, though members of the 6th were a bit sad to see their popular lieutenant go. One member in particular found it bittersweet; Rikichi was proud to bursting that his idol had achieved such rank, but he was still dejected when he reluctantly turned down Renji's invitation to move to the 5th with him, saying that he was planning to work hard to someday earn the 6th Division lieutenant's seat. He never forgot the approving grin and the hearty, back-slapping embrace Renji delivered in return.
Hisagi Shuuhei had been acting captain of the 9th Division for months already, and had been doing an excellent job bringing order to the chaos. So, despite the lack of bankai, the other captains agreed, and he was promoted to full captain without reservation.
Another somewhat less expected promotion was that of Kuchiki Rukia, raised to lieutenant of the 13th Division. No one could doubt that she had the ability, not after word spread about what had happened in Las Noches.
The matter of the 3rd Division had been a prickly thorn; Kira's actions during what was being called "the execution debacle" called his loyalty into question, despite the number of people who stood up for him at the hearing. It helped a little that Kira himself refused to excuse himself, and flatly rejected any suggestion that he should take the captain's tests. He reluctantly accepted the role of temporary acting captain of the 3rd Division, making it clear that he wanted a proper captain found right away.
There were still doubts about his loyalties, right up until he fell in the raid against the Academy only a few months into the war, holding off three arrancar at once while upper year students led the rest to safety. Reinforcements had arrived just in time to see him crumple to the ground, still swinging desperately at his lone remaining foe, screaming for the students to run.
The end of the fight saw the first of many battlefield advancements, as Kurosaki Ichigo was promoted on the spot to the rank of acting captain of the 3rd Division. It didn't matter that he was a substitute shinigami, still living, and not quite seventeen; they could sort out the details after the war.
§
After the second year, people didn't talk much about 'after the war' anymore. They took their victories where they could find them, and their pleasures, too. Most people were discreet, and a great deal was overlooked, but Renji and Rukia weren't as lucky as most. They were caught in a passionate embrace by none other than Kuchiki Byakuya.
Byakuya had simply turned his back and informed them that they were recalled to Soul Society as soon as possible before he vanished. They were still straightening their clothing when they fell to their knees before him in his office and begged permission for an honourable marriage between them. Renji's idea of 'begging' was more than a little defiant, and his words earned a raised eyebrow from his former captain.
"Is that a request or a demand?" the Kuchiki noble asked quietly.
"Bit of both," Renji answered proudly, head held high as he faced Rukia's adopted brother. To his complete astonishment, a small smile creased Byakuya's normally stoic face.
"In that case, I approve your petition." Byakuya nodded his acceptance of their union.
Later, Ichigo heard Byakuya remark to Ukitake that he thought they'd never get around to it without a little push. Ukitake just laughed and went to congratulate his petite lieutenant. Ichigo wondered if the newly wedded couple ever stopped to ponder why the 6th Division captain had chosen to deliver such a trivial message personally, or how he'd known where to find them while they were on assignment in the living world. He figured it was probably better for him if they didn't. And he figured Renji'd had enough of a shock finding out that Byakuya had been the first one to nominate him for captaincy.
Their story spread through Seireitei like a swift wind, and inspired a wave of war weddings, which helped raise the morale that had been sinking steadily as the conflict dragged on. It was Zaraki Kenpachi, of all people, who convinced Ichigo to stop waiting and start living again – by way of a few well-placed comments, delivered with a few well-placed bruises. He stood next to Chad and Renji when Ichigo married Inoue Orihime in Soul Society only a few weeks later.
Married life was a bright spot in the bleakness, and Ichigo suddenly understood why Renji had walked around grinning for the entire first week of his marriage. Knowing Orihime believed in him, that there was warmth and affection waiting for him, made the daily struggle to survive less arduous.
The war had touched Orihime as it had everyone else, but she'd held onto her good cheer and inimitable whimsy. She spent a great deal of time working with the 4th Division, undoing the damage of what could've been lethal injuries. That she could find joy in her work, find the silver lining in the grey war clouds, made Ichigo fall in love with her all over again.
Late at night, when he curled himself around her and buried his nose in her hair, he very briefly allowed himself the luxury of dreaming about what more their future together might hold, after the war.
§
After the third year, Ichigo wasn't even very upset when the news came in that his body had been killed, with Kon in it, while helping defend a brutal attack against the Urahara Shouten – their war base in the living world. Nothing really changed, except that Ichigo was officially installed as full captain of the 3rd Division.
The first time Ichigo went back to the living world as a full shinigami was shortly after his body's death. His sisters cried, and his father was torn between pride and anger – pride that his son had risen so spectacularly to the occasion, and anger that he'd needed to do so.
But they all had their part to play, and they'd all made their peace with that. Karin and Yuzu hadn't been allowed to join the fight at first, but it was impossible to keep anyone with a scrap of spiritual power out of the war once it had truly begun. The sisters had trained hard over the years, and now spent most of their time in their father's clinic acting as nurses. Against all expectations, Kurosaki Isshin and Ishida Ryuuken had put aside their differences and banded together to treat and defend those fighting in the living world. Quincy and shinigami worked side by side without complaint against the threat that eclipsed everything else.
§
The war ended during the fourth year. The start of the final battle everyone had been expecting at the beginning was mostly an accident. Ichigo, Renji, Rukia, and Orihime had simply been looking for somewhere quiet to eat and rest for a few hours before rejoining their comrades for the next offensive. It was a complete surprise to both parties when they'd turned a corner in an abandoned building and walked straight into the arms of their enemies.
Aizen himself had snuck back into Soul Society and set up shop right under their noses, and no one had felt a thing.
That changed immediately, of course; the four defenders sent up a burst of reiatsu as a warning, and tried to retreat to join the forces that would undoubtedly be racing toward them, but the former captain stopped them in their tracks with a simple flick of his finger.
They watched, helpless against the power of his dark, hungry eyes as he strode casually up to the two women. Rukia and Orihime stared at him defiantly, caught in the same binding kidou.
"You see, Gin, if you wait long enough your prize will come to you." Aizen smiled gently at Orihime, tilting her chin up with one finger.
Ichigo struggled in his invisible bonds, powerless to stop the horrific scene playing out in front of his eyes. "Don't you TOUCH her!!" he snarled, thrashing wildly. Their captor's other hand threaded through Rukia's dark hair, and beside him Renji launched into a filthy tirade.
"I think we'll keep them both, to ensure our guests' good behaviour." Aizen tsked. "But we'll have to separate you." He gestured to his white-clad underlings, who moved in and attempted to haul Ichigo and Renji away.
"Please." Ichigo wasn't above begging to save the lives of his wife and friend. "Let them go, we'll settle this between us, however you want." Renji growled his agreement even as he tried to bite off the hands that grabbed him.
"I suggest you calm down, Abarai-kun, Kurosaki-kun. Don't make me have to hurt them," Aizen said evenly. They stilled immediately, and settled for glaring pure death at their enemy. Ichigo's vision swam, and he felt Renji's rage through the shoulder trembling against his.
"Much better," Aizen approved. He led the women a short distance away, and turned to Orihime. "Now, I believe you know what I want you to do."
"I refuse," Orihime said flatly.
"Orihime." Rukia's voice was quiet and firm as she spoke to her friend, but her eyes were locked on the frantic face of her motionless husband. "It's the only way."
Orihime's expression hardened even as tears began streaming down her face. "The only way," she agreed. She smiled at Ichigo, that special smile she usually reserved only for him in private, and his heart froze in terror as she raised one hand to her heart.
Rukia reached out and gripped Orihime's other hand tightly, and the flare of power as they combined their efforts was almost visible. All six of Orihime's fairies appeared and began spinning in a complex pattern around her.
"Ichigo…"
"Renji…"
"No please wait don't—"
"Don't you dare—"
"I REJECT"
They watched in horror as the shield sprang into being, surrounding the women and their captors completely.
With Aizen's influenced blocked, Ichigo and Renji broke their bonds. Zangetsu and Zabimaru swept out, carving a gruesome path through the white-coated minions, but despite their desperate efforts they were still too late.
The shield grew lighter and brighter, glowing so intensely until it wasn't possible to see the people inside.
And when the blazing light finally faded, there wasn't anything there anymore. Rukia and Orihime were gone. The two enraged men were acutely aware that their presence had vanished along with the light.
Ichigo would have joined Renji in his anguished howling if he could have just found the strength to start breathing again.
§
On the first year anniversary of their deaths, Ichigo barricaded himself in his quarters and threatened dire consequences to anyone who even thought of disturbing him. As a result, every last one of his friends had attempted to visit and bond over the grief – all before noon.
Ichigo took himself and a generous selection of alcohol to a neat little shack he'd bought in a seedy section of the Rukongai. It seemed right, somehow, when Renji tracked him down just over an hour later. The red-haired shinigami was farther down the path to oblivion than Ichigo, but was more than willing to share his own stash of the vile-smelling greyish concoction that was the 11th Division's potent home brew in order for Ichigo to catch up.
They drank in near-silence, swapping bottles and sampling a bit of everything they'd brought. The only comments for hours were random observations on the quality of the sake, the taste of the beer, and the exorbitant price of the bright blue drink in the round bottle.
It was dark outside the little shack when they finally cracked. Renji picked a fight. Glass shattered loudly against the wall, and Ichigo looked up from his half-empty bottle to see Renji staring at him intensely. Before Ichigo realized, he'd responded to the challenge and launched himself at the other shinigami.
Grappling with Renji was nothing new. They'd fought and trained and fought some more, striving to improve, to get stronger. But this was entirely different. This was pain, and anger, bitter and raw, expressed the only way they knew how, the only way they were capable of under the crushing wall of grief.
Almost the only way. Fighting was an intimate activity – bodies crushed together, hands and legs contacted indiscriminately. Touching and being touched by another person for the first time in a year, without any hesitation or restraint, sent unexpectedly different fires racing through them, and their struggle abruptly took on a new note.
Desperate.
It wasn't love-making – it was sex, pure and simple.
The first time they kissed was almost an accident. Ichigo hadn't planned it; his body was moving on instinct, his lips seeking another pair because that's what you did when you had sex – you kissed. Renji's body apparently agreed, as his lips met Ichigo's halfway.
The hard press of mouths was a near-sobering shock to them both. They froze, pulling away to stare warily at each other for a long moment. Then Renji shrugged, and Ichigo nodded, and they moved together again. The kissing, like the sex, was rough and hungry, a needy exchange.
The next day they woke and dressed in a curiously amiable silence. By unspoken consent, it seemed the evening would simply be put away like a winter coat in summer; out of sight, out of mind, vaguely remembered, and unlamented.
Ichigo felt a stirring of guilt as he watched Renji's stiff, awkward movements. Not too much guilt, though; Ichigo winced as he sat up on the thin mattress. Their couplings hadn't been violent, exactly, but he couldn't call them gentle, either.
Desperate.
Nothing changed, not really. Except perhaps the friendship between the two men was easier than it had been before. Being allies and comrades during the war had brought them together in almost grudging admiration of each other. They'd managed a rough friendship ever since, though one still layered with fights and disagreements.
The encounter in the shack was not spoken of.
§
On the second anniversary of their deaths, Ichigo didn't really know what to expect, but he'd begun drinking right after an attempt at breakfast had made a hasty reappearance. He took himself off to his little shack again, with an even wider selection of alcoholic beverages and a blanket snagged as an afterthought on his way out the door.
Renji showed up just before noon. Again, they were both already half drunk, and set to getting all the way drunk with silent determination.
It was a simple accident that turned the meeting into something more than it had been. When returning from a quick trip outside to relieve himself, Renji tripped over the edge of Ichigo's blanket and fell flat on top of an empty wine bottle. The bottle shattered, and Ichigo scrambled across the blanket on all fours to help Renji to his knees.
"Fuck!" Renji lifted his right hand. Dark glass stuck out of his palm, and blood trickled down over his wrist.
"Shit, lemme see." Ichigo grabbed the hand and peered closely.
"Forget it, it's just a scratch." Renji attempted to pull his hand away, but Ichigo scowled and gripped his arm tightly.
"Hold still. I'm no medic but if you slice the tendons you'll never use your sword again."
Renji subsided, grumbling.
"Looks like it hurts." Ichigo pulled a long shard of glass out of the wound and set it aside.
"Yeah." Renji hissed as Ichigo poured a generous amount of alcohol over the long, shallow cut.
Ichigo looked thoughtfully at the wound for a moment. "They say that pain shared is pain halved." He released Renji's hand, then picked up the shard of glass and quickly slashed it across his own palm. Bright red blood welled up from the stinging cut, and he slapped his hand against Renji's, locking their fingers tightly as their blood mingled. Ichigo used their clasped hands to draw Renji to him and kissed him.
It was a different kind of kiss. Confusion flavoured the kiss, questions tingling their lips. Renji's eyes widened before they slid closed and his arms encircled Ichigo almost gently. A long-dormant emotion stirred, and Ichigo almost forgot to breathe as his stomach knotted in a familiar way.
But then it was all just too much, and the kiss grew fierce as Ichigo pushed the unwanted feeling away and pulled Renji down.
In the morning, they woke and dressed in the same curiously calm silence as before. Renji's hand landed briefly on his shoulder as they left, and Ichigo gripped it briefly before they separated.
The encounter in the shack was still not spoken of.
§
On the third anniversary of their deaths, Ichigo and Renji ran into each other just outside the gates and arrived at the little shack together in the morning, sacks of booze in one hand, warm blankets and necessities in the other.
They were nicely drunk by noon. Sitting atop their pile of blankets, shoulder to shoulder, they passed their bottles back and forth as they talked. The conversation had crept in unnoticed as they exchanged bottles; Ichigo asked what the hell was in the 11th Division's home brew, and before they realized, Renji was telling him how Ikkaku had once tried to make a double strength batch and wound up passing out from the fumes.
But that was ok, Ichigo decided muzzily. It was safe. Within the boundaries of his sanity and the confines of the four shabby walls of his little shack.
So they talked. But they never spoke of work. And they never spoke of their loss. Most especially, they never spoke of their arrangement, not even within the confines of their hideaway. The closest they'd ever come to acknowledging what they were doing had been directions gasped and grunted while they rolled together. "Turn over", "harder", "faster", and "not there, there".
But that year there were new phrases added. When Renji's teeth tugged at a nipple, Ichigo cried out and came against Renji's thigh, and they were both a bit surprised at the intensity of his reaction.
"Ya like that, huh?" Renji asked, his tone low and smug as he straightened to speak directly into Ichigo's ear.
"Yeah," Ichigo gasped, still grinding against Renji's erection. "I like that a lot" he said without thinking.
Then they grew very still. Renji's dark eyes fixed on Ichigo's, and they stared at each other apprehensively.
Something cold fluttered in Ichigo's chest; he swallowed, but his mouth had gone very dry. "Shit," he swore softly. Then, quite deliberately, he leaned in close, tilted his head to duck under the long, loose hair, and bit Renji on the neck.
"Sonuva bitch!" Renji rocked against him, sucking in a harsh breath.
"Ya like that?" Ichigo returned, pushing away the thought that this wasn't about liking.
"Fuck yeah." Renji's fingers dug into his back as he dropped his head onto Ichigo's shoulder. Ichigo put one arm around Renji's waist, then wrapped his hand around Renji's erection and bit him again; he held on tightly as Renji stiffened and shuddered and came over his hand.
It was beyond strange to think about the shift in their encounter, so they didn't. Safe in their little piece of unreality once a year, they didn't need to care about anything beyond the moment. So if they took the time to remember where to nibble, where to touch gently, where to scrape blunt fingernails, well, then it was just one more set of things that belonged only in these moments.
Ichigo didn't want to think about what it meant, any of it. Once a year he took off his public mask, and put on another one. Whatever it took to get him through the day, through another year without cracking. The unexpected evolution of this unspoken thing was coming perilously close to crossing lines that would break the unspoken agreement.
Still, it wasn't impossible the next morning to put it all aside like they had before. Just because they'd enjoyed their activities, had been pleased at pleasing each other, had no bearing on their real lives.
And the encounter in the shack was still not spoken of.
But then something changed.
The day the 6th Division returned from a patrol with the bodies of three senior officers was not particularly remarkable in the eyes of the Gotei 13. Shinigami were killed in the line of duty – not frequently but not uncommonly. Losing three senior officers at once was a blow to the 6th Division, but a minor note in the greater scheme of things.
For the 5th Division captain, however, one of the deaths was far more personal. When Ichigo heard about Rikichi's death, he immediately headed for Renji's office so that he might be the one to break the news to his friend himself.
When he arrived, however, one look at the tightly clenched jaw and closed expression told him Renji had already heard about the death of his erstwhile shadow.
"Kinda busy here, Ichigo." Renji pulled a report off a tall stack and flipped it open on his desk. Ichigo could almost feel the grief and pain just under the surface of the stoic mask the red-haired captain wore.
"Let's go get drunk." The words were out of Ichigo's mouth before he'd even begun to think about saying them. His mind spun with the implications. Neither of them drank to excess anymore. The only time they really indulged was during those times that were never spoken about, the times that simply didn't exist outside the little Rukongai shack.
Renji's head snapped up, dark eyes a little wild as they searched Ichigo's face. "All right," he said at last, licking his lips. "Where?"
Ichigo opened his mouth to offer Rukongai as a destination, but what came out was entirely different and set his pulse racing and his mind reeling yet again. "My place."
Renji started. "I'll… ok, let's go."
§
After that, the lines began to blur. They met four more times over the next year when bad news came in every few months, almost like clockwork. Sometimes they met at Ichigo's place, other times it was Renji's. Their encounters were more or less the same each time.
They drank. They talked, about their friends, about their training, about their missions. Sometimes they fought, blackening each others' eyes; sometimes they wept, soaking each others' hair and robes with their tears. They drank some more, and then they had sex until they couldn't move. Then they talked some more, attempting to fill the emptiness and silence, until they passed out.
The little shack was never mentioned.
And the unspoken thing remained unspoken. The lines had been moved, just a little, but there was still a sense of unreality to the arrangement. Each time they met, it was an encounter out of time, entirely separate from everything else. What had once been confined to their yearly vigil had expanded to cover other rough times, but it never crossed the line into their normal lives. It lived only in the moments they needed it, and never crept out in between.
§
On the fourth anniversary of their deaths, Ichigo never showed up at the shack. Renji waited until after noon before storming off to Ichigo's quarters, acid churning in his stomach.
Renji hammered his fist against the door. "Ichigo!" he yelled. "Open up, I know you're in there!"
The door opened. With bloodshot eyes and matted hair, uniform wrinkled and worn, Ichigo was completely sober in his grief for the first time in years.
"Where the fuck've you been?" Renji demanded. "I waited all morning for ya." The unspoken rule was shattered into a million irreparable pieces with the harsh, emotionally laced words.
"Go away, Renji." Ichigo sounded weary beyond belief. The door began to close, but Renji shoved it open again and pushed his way inside.
"No."
Ichigo slammed the door. "What do you want from me?"
"I…" Renji stared. "Why didn't you come?"
"We shouldn't be having this conversation," Ichigo said flatly. The closed-off tone hit Renji like a physical blow, and he nearly recoiled.
"Like hell!" Renji snapped. "I wanna know why you're throwing away years of—"
"Because I can't do this anymore!" Ichigo burst out. "It's killing us both, can't you see that? We're just going to wind up going through all this pain all over again when—" He broke off and rubbed his hand over his face.
Something stirred in Renji's chest, a tiny hopeful warmth melting away the chill that had been freezing him bit by bit each minute that he'd waited alone and sober. "Why, Ichigo? Why is this gonna hurt?"
"Just go, Renji, you don't—it's not—" Ichigo's voice cracked, and Renji couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed Ichigo by the arms, his fingers digging into the hard muscle, and something unidentifiable flared in Ichigo's eyes.
Before he'd registered the movement, Renji found Ichigo had broken free and pushed him up against the wall with one hand, grinding against him in a way that felt so familiar but so wrong, almost obscene.
"Do you want this?" Ichigo demanded, his fierce brown stare pinning Renji to the wall as surely as the hand on his shoulder. In that moment Ichigo's soul was bared, and if Renji hadn't already been gone, he would've fallen right there. The heat from Ichigo's hand spread, helping dispel the cold fear that had clutched him all morning.
Renji shook his head. One long, red strand of hair fell in front of his face, but it didn't block his view of the flush that spread up Ichigo's neck to his cheeks. Now or never! "No," he forced out.
Ichigo pulled back, his expression closed again. His hand lifted, and he began to turn away.
Renji caught Ichigo's wrist, holding him fast. Ichigo stiffened but didn't pull away. Renji put all he had into his next words, trying to match the honesty that had shone from Ichigo's eyes.
"I want you."
"What do you mean?" The closed expression was gone, replaced by a wary hopefulness that gave Renji the strength to draw Ichigo closer.
"All of it, not just what you think we need to see," Renji said, growing more confident as every word put a little more hope in the other man's features. "The good, the bad – all of it."
They drifted closer together; a subtle twist of the wrist under his hand brought their palms together, fingers linking lightly.
"I wanna know when you're happy, so I can laugh with ya. And I wanna know when you're pissed, so I can fight with ya and kick your ass."
Ichigo snorted, but he nodded anyway. "Anything else?" he asked, closing the last of the distance between them so they stood toe to toe.
"Just don't shut me out. Ya don't gotta do it all alone all the time." Renji swallowed hard. "I can't do it all alone anymore, and what we… what we've had ain't enough. I wanna live again."
"With me." It was half statement, half question.
Renji nodded. "With you."
"How do we know we're not just…?" Ichigo's fingers were trembling very faintly.
"We don't." Renji shrugged one shoulder, then raised his free hand to brush across Ichigo's face. "But I think we know the difference between love and comfort." He held Ichigo's gaze.
"Yeah… I guess we do." A hand on his waist drew their bodies together at last and Renji curled his fingers around the back of Ichigo's neck.
Ichigo leaned toward him, touching their foreheads together. "I don't want to forget," he whispered, his eyes closing briefly. "I don't want to forget her, or—" He blinked rapidly, and Renji felt his own emotions swell in response.
"Never," he said roughly. "There's no forgetting, no replacing." Renji gave up and let his own tears fall. "But they're gone and we can't get 'em back, so we gotta… gotta..." He swallowed heavily.
Ichigo's smile was calming. "We gotta go on." He tilted his head and moved closer.
When their lips met, it was nothing like the first time, but somehow everything a first time should be. A gentle press, tentative at first but growing more confident as the heat spread between them.
When their bodies joined, it was the same. Cautiously at first, then with growing enthusiasm; the newly exposed affection turned what had been just sex into love-making. After the first time, they'd simply smiled a bit stupidly at each other before reaching out and beginning all over again.
After the second time, they rolled apart and lay quietly for a long moment, letting their breathing and heart rates to return to normal before crossing the final line.
"Everyone keeps telling us that they'd want us to be happy," Ichigo said. "I don't suppose this is what they meant, but… I hope they'd approve."
Renji pulled himself closer and tightened his arms around his lover – and for the first time in years that word came free of pain or guilt. "I think the only thing Rukia wouldn't approve of is not having the chance to tease us about it," he said. "How many weeks did she spend snickerin' at us after she caught us drunk outta our minds at that karaoke place?"
Ichigo laughed lightly. "Did I ever tell you about the time…" He launched into the well-known tale of how Orihime had made dinner for the entire 11th Division in celebration of a particularly proud victory. Kenpachi had insisted that every member attend, much to the dismay of everyone in the 4th Division, who'd had to deal with the flood of shinigami complaining about indigestion a few hours later. It was a story still told around Seireitei, but Ichigo had never before been the one to tell it.
The memories no longer stung as they once had. Sharing memories of the loved ones they'd lost while sharing sober, deliberate embraces closed the chasm and erased the lines that had threatened to tear them both apart.
They burned the shack the next day, and never looked back.
END
SPOILERS FOR THE SQUEAMISH:
There's no infidelity. The RenRuki and IchiOri romances are short-lived, because Rukia and Orihime die, as do Kira, Kon, Rikichi, Aizen, and Ichimaru. Oh, and Ichigo's body. ;)