A/N: A litte post war story and my first real attempt to write something romantic. For now it's only a short-story because I don't know whether or not to continue writing this storyline. I'd alway like suggestions for my stories, so leave a review if you like ...oh, and I'm not a native speaker so there could be some spelling mistakes.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own Bleach. The honor lies with Kubo Tite.

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We're going home

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"Shinji! Can ya hear me? Shinji?" she called out, shaking his damaged body ever so slightly. Hiyori knew that her voice was trembling and that she had tears in her eyes, but she was beyond care. The only thing that mattered at the moment was the blonde man lying in the mud in front of her.

"Ouch! …don't be so noisy …my head hurts." his voice was barely audible and weaker than she had ever heard, but he was still alive.

Hiyori let go of him a little and watched him slowly opening his eyes. First he seemed a little bit dazed, but then his eyes found hers and one of his trademark smiles crept onto his face.

"Are ya cryin', Hiyori?" Shinji asked.

Before she could come up with a response he extended one of his hands and placed it on her cheek, his thumb gentle wiping off some of her tears.

"Shut up, dumbass." Hiyori eventually spat while at the same time leaning into his soothing touch.

Slowly his fingers went from her cheek into her hair, playing with one of the red ribbons that held her pigtails up – as if by a miracle they were still in place – tugging playful at the thin cloth.

His eyes found hers when he leaned down to press his lips to hers in an ever so light touch. Their first kiss. As sweet as she had thought it would be and just as bitter.

They parted and Shinji leaned his forehead carefully against hers, his warm breath caressing her skin.

"Love ya, Hiyori."

His lips twitched into the most affectionate smile she had ever seen on his face. Meanwhile the slits that were his eyes began to decrease till they finally closed and a peaceful look settled on his features.

One last hot breath grazed her face and then his body went numb.

It was over.

With stiff fingers Hiyori pulled his hand from her hair, caressing the smooth skin while doing so. She fumbled with the crimson ribbon, undoing the tie slowly. Then she tied the cloth carefully around his wrist.

She pressed one last time into his body, not bothering to wipe the flood of tears from her cheeks. It didn't matter anyway. Hiyori paused for a moment in this position before she had gained enough composure to actually look up and check on the others.

"Kensei can you carry Mashiro?" she turned her head slightly sideward to see the gray haired Vizard nodding in her direction, holding tight on Mashiros blood-covered body.

Both their wounds were fatal, as much Hiyori could see from one glance. How Kensei was standing, not even speaking about moving, was beyond her. He seemed to hold on with pure willpower and nothing else. The small frame of Mashiro in his arms was not far away from loosing conscious. Had the green haired girl not worn her mask while being stabbed, Hiyori was sure she would be dead by now.

"Rose-" she began to speak, but he cut her in before Hiyori could finish her sentence.

"Yeah." he nodded calmly, carefully holding on the lifeless body of Love that hung from his shoulders. He looked sad.

Hiyori had never seen Rose looking sad. Melancholic probably, thoughtful, concerned, but never sad. It pained her to see that look in his eyes.

Her gaze wandered to Hachi and Lisa, both of them looking at her, seemingly waiting for her to say something – or rather looking at her like they had looked at Shinji, waiting for some kind of order, someone to tell them what to do next.

When was she made leader, Hiyori asked herself.

She understood why all of them had followed Shinji. He had been the oldest among them, the one that held his position as Captain of the Gotei 13 longest. Shinji had been the one that never gave up, the one who always pushed them a step further, never trembling, never falling. He had been their tactician, their mastermind, the man who had suspected Aizen from the very beginning.

Hiyori herself was not the most intelligent among the Vizard, not the fastest and not the strongest since Kensei was yet alive. Actually the blonde was the youngest of them all and the shortest anyway. She did not look intimidating and she could by all means not talk big. All she ever did was insult people and annoy them to no end while never shutting up when she was told to do so.

That was probably the reason they turned towards her now. They believed in her to be as she always was, never giving in to anything that threatened her, standing up after every punch she got and continuing the fight like nothing had happened. They thought she could endure, could go on even thought her world had collapsed around her.

She really didn't know if she could go on, but that she had to. There was simply no chance of standing still and letting live go on without her – them.

"What are we gonna do now?" Lisa asked, disturbing her thoughts.

Hiyori carefully got up from the ground, carrying Shinjis lifeless body bridal style. His head rested on her chest, strands of blonde hair tickling her bare arm. Both Shinjis long legs and arms dangled inanimately downward, but there was nothing to do against it. She had – thanks to her Vizard-strength – no problem in lifting him, but he was too tall to carry any other way and Hiyori didn't want to give his body to another person.

It had always been the other way around, she mused ironically. Shinji had carried her around while she was kicking and screaming for him to let her down. A small smile tugged at her lips when she thought about it. Shinji sure as hell would have laughed at this ludicrous situation.

She took a closer look at the Garaganta where the Shinigami vanished one by one and then at the other Vizard.

They had been absent for a long time. Now it was time go back eventually.

"We're going home."

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