Action, Reflection
Hisagi/Izuru
Lightly Rose/Izuru and Hisagi/Kensei
"It's not the way you do things," said Izuru quietly, "it's how you noticed the things you do."
Shuuhei did not stop strumming. Hadn't stopped in hours, let his fingers bleed, hadn't talked. The corners of his eyes were pricked with salt. He did not look at his counterpart.
Izuru admired their zanpakutos, carefully propped against the far wall. Shadowed and mysterious. He could envision what they would look like in someone else's hands, but could not imagine them fitting there. In Momo's? Her delicate, broken sanity clutching at Wabisuke's tormented spirit? In Renji's devoted hands? The two always at odds, optimism and pain … In Matsumoto's? Izuru started. Maybe, he thought and hated the possibility.
It's not the way you do things, it's the way you notice the things you do. Shuuhei had been the one to say it first, years ago, to Izuru.
The apathetic way you go through the motions. Forget death, who cares? If just one squad member lives to see tomorrow, Kira couldn't see how his life mattered more. In fact, knew it didn't. Shuuhei was a little more difficult; he was alive, always fighting to be alive, always fighting to feel. Not selfishly, never that. Shuuhei fought because there were things he wanted to know, to see. Always looking, Shuuhei, wide-eyed and wandering. Kira poked at the bandage around his abdomen until it began to bleed again. The music stopped, Shuuhei grabbed his hand, held it and looked through him.
"Stop it," he said, then went back to playing, left a streak of red on Izuru's wrist.
Izuru knew the greater scheme. He didn't have a death wish, didn't actively seek it. Just accepted it in ways Shuuhei wouldn't.
"I was doing my duty," said Izuru, "you know our responsibility."
"You were taunting death," said Shuuhei and the music flowed between them. "You're always taunting death." Cool, calculating Kira doesn't play fair when the odds are against him. Except when he does.
Action. Reflection.
Shuuhei looked up at his friend, cracked a smile, let the music die, put the mangled thumb to his lips. His feet were propped up on Izuru's thighs, sitting in the chair beside his recovery bed. The sun outside was nearly gone. They could both see it out the window to Izuru's right, still Shuuhei did not look to be in the mood to leave. The two said little. When Renji had been in earlier the voices rang clear and abrasive — Renji's, at least.
This was better, Izuru thought. Shuuhei was not wallowing in misery, but he was quiet in the way that made Izuru sure that the two shared more than was spoken.
"I forgive you, by the way," said Shuuhei, gave him one severe and intense look; willed him to fight to live, even if it wasn't quite being alive. For me, they seemed to say, stay here for me.
"I never said 'I'm sorry,'" said Izuru, his lip twitched. Shuuhei went back to his guitar.
"Hisagi plays beautifully," Rose smiled to Kensei. The two sat opposite each other just outside the room. Kensei grunted, crossed his arms; crossed his legs. Rose laughed. "Perhaps Izuru is the muse of more than one musician?" He winked, the bastard.
Kensei said nothing, gave no indication of whether the statement had annoyed him, but the tips of his ears pinked slightly. Finally:
"Just be glad Shuuhei's dedication lead him to the campaign your fukutaicho stopped fighting."
The words cut Rose; the two men sat stiffly.
I follow a girl on tumblr who loves Izuru in a contagious way. So here's some fluff-ish of Izuru and Shuuhei. Because Shuuhei ... and because Izuru. You know what, just because all of them. Dynamic? Wonderful. God bless. Sorry about some OOC-ness, this is a new venture for me with regards to two of these characters and most of these relationships. But I had fun and I (think) I'm satisfied with the result? But let me know?