I've read a couple of fics with this concept, so don't tell me I stole it from someone. Besides, my take on it is kind of unique
This chapter was inspired by Blessthefall's Meet Me At the Gates. Sad song, but amazing.
Rukia felt numb.
Her small fingers clasped the device tightly as she inspected it. Urahara had explained its function to her with sorrow in his eyes and Yoruichi had regretfully shown her how to operate it. It was simple enough—press the end of it against someone's skin, press the button, and it would burn an symbol into their flesh that would take away all memories of any spiritual encounters they'd ever had, along with completely suppressing their reiatsu. It was an evil device, malicious to the very atoms that it was composed of.
Soul Society may have had good intentions, but it didn't make the situation any less cruel.
It took everything Rukia had not to cry as she neared the Kurosaki residence. She'd arrived in the World of the Living just an hour ago and Ichigo wasn't expecting her, so she hoped with all of her being that he wasn't home.
Fate, it turned out, was not so kind.
She climbed through his window to find him sitting at his desk, bent over some Algebra homework. His orange hair was slightly longer and fell into his eyes. His physique was well-built as usual and he wore a simple combination of jeans and a t-shirt.
Her heart wrenched.
He turned toward her, expression unchanging. "Oh, hey."
She didn't say anything, but moved across his room to her closet. Everything was just where she left it. The device felt ice-cold in her hand.
"Rukia." She turned to find him frowning at her. "Is something wrong?"
She didn't say anything, but his eyes suddenly widened and he stood up. Soon he was right in front of her, tilting her face up to look at him. "Why are you crying?" he demanded.
Her eyebrows raised in surprise as she brushed her hands over her cheeks, collecting the falling tears. "I didn't know I was."
He pulled her forward until they were both sitting on his bed. "Whose ass do I need to kick?"
That was Ichigo, always being protective. With a dark laugh, Rukia replied, "All of Soul Society."
Her hand tightened around the device, as if she could break it in two. She'd been careful to keep it from Ichigo's sight so far.
"Hey."
She looked at him.
He took her chin and leaned down to kiss her. The familiar softness of his lips didn't completely relieve her of her burden, but they comforted her all the same. His scent of strength, power, and youth surrounded her and she sighed against him. Her tiny hand cupped his face as he nipped her lower lip before pulling away.
He grinned at her. "If I'm going to beat up all of Soul Society, we'd better get a move on."
It hit her that while he was joking, he was also being serious. He would do anything for her. Anything she asked. And not because he thought he owed her (which he didn't), but because he cared about her that much.
"I love you," she told him, violet eyes guilty and melancholy.
"I love you, too," he replied with a slight scowl. Though they'd been together for a while now, they didn't say that often. "Now tell me what's really wrong."
Looking at him, Rukia realized that she didn't have the strength the steal his memories from him. She couldn't do that to him, and she couldn't do that to herself. Slowly, she brought the device out.
Ichigo eyed it warily. Rukia, he trusted completely. The strange looking rod, not so much. "What is that?"
Tears began to track down her face again. "They—they want me to…take your memories."
Ichigo flinched. He leaned slightly away from her and cracks appeared all over her heart.
"Oh," was all he said.
It wasn't like he needed to ask why. Despite all he'd done for them, Soul Society still saw him as a loose cannon, someone they couldn't easily control. He was unpredictable, and therefore, a possible threat.
He was suddenly pissed.
But not only for what they wanted to do to him.
How could they put Rukia in this position?!
His jaw clenched.
Rukia suddenly stood up, seeing his furious expression, and started pacing. "I can't do it!" she wailed. "I-I just…"
Strong arms pulled her against a solid chest and she was done. Rukia Kuchiki broke down for the first time in her life and sobbed.
Ichigo held her as tight as he could without hurting her. They stood there for what felt like forever, memorizing each other's embrace.
Finally, the Shinigami pulled away. Her eyes were red but they dropped no more tears. Her face was set. "It's not going to be forever," she told him. "When you die, they'll want you to become a captain."
Ichigo didn't pretend to understand the seemingly-flawed logic of Soul Society. It all sounded pretty warped to him, but he still asked, "How can it be reversed?"
Rukia held up the rod so he could see the design on the face of it. "When the seal is broken by a zanpakuto in shikai."
Ichigo nodded. He guided Rukia to sit on the bed again and sat beside her. "Alright. Do it."
Her violet eyes filled with sorrow. She lunged forward and kissed him soundly, tearing a groan from his throat. His arms came up to hold her as they fell backward so that she lay on top of him.
Something burning hot touched his chest, right above his heart. He cried out over the sizzling sound of burning flesh, ripping his mouth from Rukia's.
Rukia pressed her forehead against his, her tears leaking onto his face. His tightly-shut eyes suddenly opened, unfocused.
"I love you," she whispered. "Always."
"And I, you," he rasped before falling unconscious.
Many years later...
He opened his eyes when the window beside him opened. His vision was nowhere near what it used to be, so all he could make out was a dark figure stepping into his hospital room.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he called, his eighty-five year-old voice weak.
A woman stepped forward. She was short, almost embarrassingly so, and she wore a strange black outfit. Black hair curled around her shoulders and her skin was pale. There was a sword at her hip.
Her face was stoic, showing no emotion at all, but her violet eyes displayed incredible depth of feeling. There were many emotions swirling in them, but he couldn't make any of them out.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
She quirked an eyebrow, sad amusement replacing the indifference. "I can see that you have retained you eloquent way of speaking."
"Do I know you?"
She nodded. "You did, long ago."
Her pretty face wasn't familiar in the slightest. "You sure about that?"
A wry smile curved her lips. "Ichigo Kurosaki, if there is one thing that I am sure about, it is you."
He didn't say anything, but frowned.
"It's time," she said, drawing her sword. "Dance, Sode no Shirayuki."
Her sword took on a brilliant glow that Ichigo had to shield his eyes from. When the light faded, the whole sword was a beautiful white and a ribbon drifted about from the end of its hilt.
She approached and slid his thin hospital shirt to the side to reveal the remains of what had been a toned chest. Ichigo didn't move a muscle, not scared at all for some reason. The strange woman's eyes became sad as she looked at the strange scar that had marred his chest for as long as he could remember.
She set the tip of her sword above it.
Ichigo was still unafraid. He'd lived a good life, despite the gaps in his early memory. He'd become a doctor, like his dad, and had published many books. He'd always been surrounded by family and friends. He'd never gotten married, for all of the women he dated were missing something, but he'd been the proud uncle of many children. And for some reason, death had never been scary for him.
The woman hesitated, looking at his face one more time. "I know I used to tease you about your orange hair, but I miss it."
He didn't know how she knew he'd had orange hair. It was completely white now.
White, just like the blade that sliced a shallow cut across the scar on his chest.
Everything went dark for a moment. Suddenly, scenes flashed before his eyes, like a choppy film. He saw himself, in his much younger years, wearing the same strange clothes as the woman. He wielded a large sword and fought huge monsters. He saw his late friends with amazing powers as well, and the faces of friends long forgotten.
Everything suddenly made sense. The strange scar, the memory gaps. All of his life's mysteries were solved.
Including the reason for his lifelong single status.
Those women he dated, they weren't missing anything.
They just weren't…
"Rukia."
He opened his eyes, unaware they were closed, to find himself standing. He donned the familiar Shinigami uniform and the comfortable weight of Zangetsu rested across his back. There were no aches in his joints and no shaking in his hands. His skin had its healthy glow back and his muscles flexed easily. The orange fringe of his bangs fell into his eyes. Powerful reiatsu thrummed in his body.
And there, standing in front of him—
Rukia's body suddenly collided with his with such force that he stumbled back. Her arms hugged his neck and her face pressed into his shoulder. "Ichigo."
His arms wrapped around her and he inhaled her scent for the first time in decades. She looked exactly the same, except her face was a bit more mature. She felt the same, she smelled the same and she sounded the same when she said—
"I love you."
Ichigo chuckled as they pulled back to look at each other. "Even after all this time?"
She gazed up at him with apparent relief. "Especially after all this time. It was…torture."
He kissed her, but shortly so that he could say, "I love you, too." He looked her over. "You haven't grown an inch, have you?"
She kicked his shin. "Idiot."
Rukia walked over the window she'd come through and grabbed something white off the sill. She tossed it to him. A Captain's haori.
"Better put that on, Captain Kurosaki," she said with a grin. "The hospital staff will be in here soon to try and revive you."
It was then that Ichigo noticed the flat line whine of his heart monitor. He smirked. "What if they succeed?"
Rukia matched his expression and stepped onto the thin air outside the window. She offered Ichigo her hand. "They won't," she replied. "Because we'll be long gone."
And long gone, they were.