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I watched him, watched his face contort in complete rage. He was not the semi-carefree high school student he was a few hours ago, not right now. Now, his soul was blackened with anger and hate, so much so he was barely recognizable. In my worry I bit my lip until I tasted my own blood. Although I knew he was powerful, knew he could-would win this fight, I didn't want his soul marred by this dark intent for revenge. I prayed fervently, silently that he wouldn't say that word, that one word that would mean he could never return. It would guarantee his victory, guarantee his blood vengeance, but he would be permanently scarred. He would never be the man I knew--the man I loved--again. That one word, and my heart would break along with his innocent spirit.

I watched his shoulders stiffen, his back arch, his grip on the hilt tighten, and I knew it was coming. My heart sobbed for him. His jaw tightened and his eyes sliced to the side to meet mine; they said "I'm sorry" but they were hard and icy, not the warm amber color I'd grown to love. I pleaded with him, begged him not to do this. I told him he could stop now and still claim victory; no one expected him to go any farther...he'd done enough. But I could see he had no intention of stopping. His spiritual pressure flowed around him in harsh ripples of raw power; it was rougher and darker than usual and I swore I could feel its potency swirling around, gnawing at my skin.

It wasn't working. I wasn't changing his mind. I tried something else. I tried telling him how much I loved and cared for him and that I didn't want him to do this. I even mouthed "Stop! Please...I love you," and for a moment, time froze. I saw something flash in his eyes--realization, acknowledgment, requital...I couldn't tell--I could see it was at least different from his soul-consuming rage. I barely saw the slight shake of his head. He was telling me to stop, to let him do this. That he needed to do this. But I shook my head in return as tears streamed down my face. I knew this would ultimately destroy him--and me as well. How I wished I could run to him! That I could wrap my arms around his torso and hold him back, get him to lay down his sword, persuade him to stop. But I couldn't.

He held my gaze for a moment more. It was as if we were the only two people there for that moment. And I prayed he'd believe that too. I hated what I knew this would do to him. My heart ached with a love so deep, I could barely stand it. Then it happened: for a millisecond, he let his guard down and I could see the vulnerability, the fear, the doubt etched deep within. But before I could breathe, the wall was up again, his resolve was back, and his eyes hardened. Then he turned back, turned away from me, turned back to face his opponent, and inhaled deeply, and I knew it was coming. The world was silent, still, as he released the word I'd been dreading all day with a fierce roar, white gathering into a mask at his face, and I closed my eyes as I felt the pain of my breaking heart pulse through my body.

"Ban-kai!"

A/N: I'm not sure if there would ever be a time where Rukia would not want Ichigo to use Ban-kai...but oh well. Also, I have no idea what would make Ichigo so hell-bent on revenge...
I liked exploring the idea that love, to a certain point, isn't enough to quench blind rage.

I enjoyed writing it

Hope you enjoyed reading it