Do you remember
In December
How we swore we'd never change
Even though you're leaving
Thought our feelings
Would always stay the same
Don't say goodbye
Cause I don't wanna hear those words tonight
Cause maybe it's not the end for you and I
And although we knew
This time would come for me and you
Don't say anything tonight
If you're gonna say goodbye
-Say Goodbye; Skillet
...
I.
Flashback; Occuring during the 2 months Rukia spent with Ichigo before the Soul Society Arc
…
"Oh, crap."
Ichigo felt his pocket, annoyance written across his face. Rukia looked up at him, eyebrow raised questioningly, "What's wrong?"
His frown is deep, "I think I left my phone at school."
She rolls her eyes, "Tawake! How can you be so irresponsible? You only leave things at places when you have the intention of returning there-!"
"Well, this wasn't intentional, Miss Smart. I forgot."
"Oh, the humanity," Rukia sighed dramatically, pressing the back of her hand against the forehead, her voice sickeningly sweet, "My Kurosaki-kun, when will you ever learn?"
"Shut up."
…
End Flashback
…
It happens like this.
Right after you bid your final farewell to Rukia, you are enshrouded in darkness. A world without Rukia is a world without light; where he stumbles in the darkness to find a path.
Your feelings are mixed up, and you just want to be left alone with your thoughts for a while. So, you quietly ask your friends for this, and they comply, worry etched on all three faces.
Back in his room, Ichigo looked around for a moment, his hands still buried in his pockets. Even though he had just let go of one of most important girls in his life (the other two being a certain set of twins), he felt… nothing.
Perhaps, he thought, he was in denial. Ichigo stepped closer to his bed, looking for a moment, when his eyes fell on something on his desk-
A necklace.
It was not his, certainly it could only belong to a girl. Not Yuzu's or Karin's, nor his mother's. Ichigo recognized this immediately, as he had seen the owner wear it quite often-
Rukia.
He had questioned her on it of course, wondering where she got such an expensive looking antique like thing. He was almost afraid she might've stolen it, not knowing that you actually had to pay at stores here in the living world when you wanted something, to which she had replied, "Of course I didn't steal it, idiot. Nii-sama gave it to me." Her eyes had softened as her fingers touched the necklace, a silver flower- a sakura, perhaps- encrusted with tiny diamonds. The chain it hung on had gotten old, perhaps white gold, and that gave it an antique look. "It used to belong to Onee-san."
Ichigo knew she was talking about Hisana. He knew how much this necklace meant to her. So why would she leave it here-? He pondered on this as he reached over, picking up the pendant. It was smooth, the tiny diamonds lining the petals of the silver flower so neatly it was not rough, and fit in the palm of his hand, not very big. His fingers closed around it, thinking, when her words hit him-
You only leave things at places when you have the intention of returning there!
And suddenly, he understood. His jaw clenched, his fist closed around the pendant tightly, brought up to his lips as he gave a most bittersweet smile.
If you are lost, you can look, and you will find me, time after time. If you fall? I will catch you! I'll be waiting. Time after time.
II.
When you wake up in the morning, your body aches for some reason. You don't want to get up; you want to lie down and sleep for hours more. Sadly, your life has never really been about you, and besides, the sunlight poring through the window is making you squint.
You get up, pulling the covers over your bed so you won't be reprimanded for leaving it messy, and shuffle across your bed to your closet, reaching out for the handle to get your uniform, and grip the door-
Just for that split second, your hand slackens. Because for a split second, your mind lapses back into thinking she lives with you, and if you open the door, she'll kick you in the face.
Just for a second, and you slowly side the door aside.
Empty.
Just for a split second, your hopes got up.
You fetch your uniform and get dressed, still feeling a bit tired.
III.
Valentine's day is coming close, and you hate it quite a bit. Whoever created such a stupid custom as a holiday was obviously not thinking straight.
You're walking downtown after school. It's Friday after school, and for some reason, you just don't want to go home.
Instead, you stand outside and look at a display window of a small shop.
Bunnies. Lots of them, hugging each other, or hearts, or bags of heart-shaped candies, or a chocolate rose.
You contemplate about these bunnies. How can a person- girl or not- be happy with such a useless gift? His mind wanders to Yuzu, who adores stuffed animals. Okaa-san liked them, too, now that he thinks of it. Old Goat Beard used to get them for her for white day, usually stringing something more expensive, like a necklace or earrings, on the ears or around the neck.
Just for a second, your mind murmurs, 'Rukia loved them. It was called Chappy. She drew bunnies all the time, in her sketchbook. Remember when she threw it at your head? Remember those drawings that are sitting in your drawer? She drew people as bunnies, too. You, Renji, even her brother. Byakuya as a rabbit, ha! That girl, she's beautiful and can be cold as ice, yet- '
You feel something- or someone, rather- bump into your shoulder. For a split second, your heart jolts, thinking it's raven hair and violet eyes-
"Hey, why don't you watch where you're going, ehh?" Three older looking guys are standing around, glaring. The one who brushed against him raises an eyebrow. "Oho, what's this? Dying your hair to act like us? Little punk. Or are you trying to get a girlfriend? But you know, there's no point of dying your hair when your face is ugly! Hahaha!"
Ichigo said nothing, his hands in his pocket; eyes narrow as he just stared at the guy.
"Hey, why don't you open your damn mouth and say something!" guy with strange hair grabs the front of his shirt, shaking him. "You know, I don't take well to idiots, so if you bow down and apologize now, I might consider forgiving you-"
Ichigo's hand grips the other's hand, fisting his shirt. Brown eyes are half lidded in the annoyance of being disturbed and robbed of the only thing he has left of her- memories.
"Let go."
IV.
He walks home, rubbing the back of his hand against the side of his mouth. The guys, before he broke them to pieces, had managed to hit him hard against there, cutting his lip from the corner. Still, at least it had stopped bleeding.
He's sure there will be a bruise there, tomorrow. A scar, perhaps. It wouldn't matter anyways.
Wind ruffles his hair, which has grown out a bit since the last time it was cut. Ichigo looks to his right, at the river. He pauses, standing there for a moment in contemplation.
He does not want to go home. But he does not want to go anywhere else. He wanted to be alone, with nobody to judge him or pity him or think he is stupid.
Ichigo goes down to the riverside, and for the first time in a long time, he sits.
He sits there, putting his head down with his knees drawn to his chest, for what seems like five minutes, when in reality, it becomes hours. Eventually it is so late; the full moon is out, a bright, radiant white orb of shimmer against a bold black canvas. Ichigo looks up, staring.
"If you get hurt, then I'll support you! If you can't move, then I'll fight in your place! If you're in pain, then I'll bear your pain! We're nakama, aren't we?"
Aren't we?
The grip on his sleeves tighten.
"Aren't we…? Don't joke…" his words start as a whisper, speaking, like she could actually hear him, and suddenly, his face turns up to the sky, voice gets louder and louder, until he is screaming at the moon, "Don't joke! 'We're nakama'? I'm in so much pain now, so where the hell are you? Answer me that, Rukia!"
Suddenly feeling completely worn out, his head falls back forward, staring at his knees. His mind raced with so many thoughts at once, he felt like throwing everything out the window.
His eyes water, but tears don't fall. They've fallen so much, he cannot seem to muster any more.
"Rukia… I beg you… explain to me, even if you lie, I'd believe you…"
He hugged himself a little bit tighter, a little bit longer.
"Rukia…"
V.
During your break at school, Ichigo heads- just as routine calls- to the rooftop, where he always sits for lunch with Keigo, Chad, and Mizuiro. Sometimes Ishida, too. Sometimes.
Sitting in a semi circle, with his legs crossed and his back leaning against the railing, Ichigo dropped his bento in his lap and grabbed his juice box, poking the straw through the hole.
"Ichigo!"
Just for a split second, his hand reaches out to the person calling him. Because for a split second, he thinks it's her, and he know that no matter how many times he showed her how to open a juice box, she will never learn-
He looks up, but his eyes don't meet deep violet. Instead, they meet Keigo's dramatic, desperate, tear-filled eyes as he bounces around, begging him to share his bento with him because he, once again, forgot his.
Ichigo gives him his entire lunch, because suddenly he finds that his appetite is gone.
VI.
He is walking home from school one day. The sun is bright, the sky is clear, and Ichigo stares out to the left, looking at the river where he and she had been so many times.
Suddenly, he stops.
Because, in his mind, for just a second, he swears he saw her. Far off, down near the river's edge. A small, petite silhouette of a girl in a blue dress with a large straw sun hat, a backpack on her back with an all too familiar lion plushie sticking out of it, her back facing him. She was looking down, so he could not see her eyes, thick, black locks of raven barely spilling over her shoulder.
The minute he stops walking, he does not see anymore. He does not see anything. Not hollows, not reiatsu, not swords or shikahushos or black butterflies or shinigami or arrancar-
Not her.
Ichigo stands there, frozen, as if waiting. Waiting for a whip of black hair, a sparkle of violet eyes, a pouty grin or an evil smile, the flutter of a black sleeve or a butterfly, anything.
But he gets nothing.
For some reason, he finds himself smiling softly. And then, knowing nobody is around anyways, he lets his face crumple.
Back at home in his room, once again, he has left his window wide open. The curtains, pulled to the sides, flutter from the breeze. As if beckoning for her to return through them. No longer is she a stranger to faze through his wall and land on his desk; nor to go through the roof.
His doors will always be open to her.
Hey, Rukia
Say something.
VII.
She comes in through his open window, when he is asleep. It is 12:45, so technically, it is now February the 14th.
Rukia always hated being tardy anyways.
She smiles gently at Ichigo's sleeping form- thank god that he is finally sleeping well. She looks around his room, wondering where to put her little gift-
Her eyes fall on the closet.
Slowly, she walks across the room, sliding the door open very quietly so she won't wake him, and sets the gift there-
The familiarity stabs her in the chest, slaps her across the face, knees her in the stomach and sticks its hand through her chest, grabs her heart in his fist, and crushes the vital organ.
And then, without being able to control it, tears fall, hot and fast, down her face. She doesn't even know why- it just does, and she is sobbing, choking, trying not to be hysterical, her hand clamping over her mouth.
She turns to his desk, desperately flipping open his science notebook to the last page, where she tears off a corner. She grabs his pen and, hand shaking, writes just one sentence.
She goes back to the closet, sticks it under her gift, and bolts for the window. When she is out, she stands on the telephone pole, staring at his bedroom window for any lights to flicker on or a tall, spiky haired silhouette to appear.
Nothing.
Rukia wipes her eyes, turns her back, and opens a senkaimon.
VIII.
It is Valentine's day.
He is sitting on his desk, doing his homework. It's late, about 11:45, and he is almost done.
Picking up his papers and aligning them against the wooden desk, he leaves them and goes to his closet, sliding the door open to get his sleeping clothing when he stops, noticing something sitting on top of the neatly folded futons where she used to sleep.
A small, teeny box, wrapped in delicate red and gold foil paper. Ichigo stands, leaning towards the closet, staring at the box, his eyes high with a feeling like worry.
Because, for some reason, he feels he knows where this came from.
When he picks up the box, which is no bigger than his hand, he finds a piece of paper with it. A torn piece of notebook paper, the handwriting shakily written-
I wish you will always be happy.
IX.
Xcution has come into play.
The night before Ishida is attacked, Ichigo dreams.
His dreams are always the same. Same as in, content. Sometimes they are memories. Sometimes they are things that never happened- perhaps it's telling the future. But no matter what, they always have the same person.
Black hair, light skin, violet eyes.
This is different.
This dream is more vivid then any other, almost.
He stood in front of his house, looking around, unable to detect any spiritual pressure. In fact, his body ached oddly with this lazy feeling; when Ichigo looked at himself, he realized, 'this is that time Rukia left.'
The strange thing was, he was all alone. Unlike before, his friends were not behind him. Rukia was not there.
Where was everyone?
"Ichigo."
At that voice, that familiar, sweet, sweet voice that Ichigo had missed and still missed and now was confined to only being able to hear it through memory, spun around. "Rukia-"
He almost wished he hadn't.
Rukia stood, on her knees, violet eyes stormy and cold. Her hard stare did not falter on his eyes for a second; her hair was a mess, falling around her face and shoulders in a ragged mess. There was a horrid gash across her face that bled profusely. She held Shirayuki lax in her hand; the tip of the beautiful blade scraped the floor; the pure white, silken ribbon was in tatters. The sword itself with smeared with red and brown; dirt and blood.
But none of that compared to the major bodily damage. For his beloved Kuchiki princess stood there with a gaping hole in her stomach. It was worse because it could be seen so clearly. Rukia's shirt as well as her hakama was torn. Her hakama was now only the middle section, the sides of her thighs could easily be seen. Her shirt had been torn open from the front, top to bottom; it fell open right down the center so her modest valley could be seen, down to her belly button-
And right in between, a hole. A gaping, bleeding, horrid hole, so big Ichigo knew his whole arm would passs through it with ease.
All he could do was stare at her, petrified with shock and horror.
"R….Ruki…"
"Do you really want it to end this way, Ichigo?" Her voice was so loud and clear, yet so distant, like she was speaking from a high, high point and he was below. It was like she wasn't hurt at all.
Blinking through his starting-to-water eyes, he gasped for a breath, shocked at her words. "What? Rukia, wha-" What was she saying-?
"Then," Rukia took a step towards him, and though he was frightened… Ichigo could not find himself to step back.
She continued walking towards him, a sweet, powerful stride that captured and shook him to the core. And then, suddenly, she was right in front of him. Right in front of him, so close that if he reached out now, his hand would go through that hole in her.
She drew her sword up; the one that was in her hands. Shirayuki. But that was not what made Ichigo stop breathing.
Because when she held the blade up horizontally in front of him, the sideways blade almost touching his neck, it was not Shirayuki at all. It was Tensa Zangetsu.
His eyes fell from the blade to Rukia's eyes. Purple glass sharp, stormy and cold.
"Then why don't you save us?"
X.
In the Soul Society, the vice captain of the 13th division stands in front her her mirror.
Today, everything changes. Everything, and yet, nothing at all.
"If you get hurt, then I'll support you! If you can't move, then I'll fight in your place! If you're in pain, then I'll bear your pain! We're nakama, aren't we?"
Aren't we?
Rukia smiled softly, closing her eyes. Aren't we, Ichigo?
"…Ah."
Outside, there is a rush. Urahara-san had gone to the Soul Society earlier, to appease to the Gotei 13 to help her- help them- restore Ichigo's powers. Now, he was preparing the sword with Isshin and he would text her immediately to tell her when to shunpo to the place where Ichigo was with Ginjou and Tsukishima.
She knew Ichigo's state right now. She knew all of his friends and family, everyone- had been cut by Tsukishima. Indeed, that man had a frightening ability…
But so what? It was no matter to Ichigo, who had conquered despair far more then this. She knew. That man in her heart…
Yes. I will support you. I will fight in your place. I will bear your pain. And if you are lonely… then I will do everything in my power ease that loneliness.
Rukia had placed her reiatsu in last. And, as her request… she would transfer that power to Ichigo.
Just like before.
Once, when she still went to school with Ichigo, Rukia had read in a book that girls sometimes cut their hair of from a sign of separation from their beloveds.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair had gotten quite longer since then. It was usually shoulder length, but now it rolled past her shoulders, thick and glossy, down to her midback.
Long hair was hard to keep up with. And really, she hadn't paid much attention to her looks in a while. There was no harm in this.
Rukia pulled her sword out of it's holder and gathered her hair into her fist neatly on the back of her head, and in one clean sweep, cut it all off.
Immediately, her hair fell forward, chin-length. Rukia gave her head a slight shake, and looked at herself in the mirror again as she tossed her lost hair in the trash bin next to the dresser.
Fine. She turned, sliding her sword back into it's place as her phone vibrated.
Time.
Rukia turned and walked out of Urahara Shoten, to return to that man in her heart.
The rain drags the Black Sun down
But the rain dried by the White Moon.