Disclaimer: I don't own bleach ..or the song Forgotten by Linkin Park...or Yumichika...which is good, 'cause I'm a sadist.
This is supposed to be friendship, but It just didn't felt complete without that small part about 'the K word', you know?._...and no, this is NOT a romance. But then again, who knows...
Warnings:...mentions of rape (I REALLY tried to keep it T rated but...), And lots of lots of blood and gore, you were warned, be ware.
So it's redone. It's not much though but...
Special thanks to dear Pixagi~!It was only what? two, three sentences? but it's much better to read like that! and.. thanks to the one that opened my eyes to the un-needed line in this chapter, 'cause honestly, reading it again sounded so weird so I simply erased that line (and sorry for scaring you with...2-3 replies?)...and of course, thanks to the reviewers and the Fav's and alart's~
With the evening's cool breeze and tinted horizon, people passed to and through from one place to another, most of them are free of worries now that the war is over, laughing with their friends or colleagues, only slightly perturbed from work's deadline or of this or that.
However, that wasn't the case for the strongest and toughest Division in whole Seireitei, since the mighty Captain and Vice-captain were off to a mission, and the lot of the Squad's crew were scattered in where they lied, bleeding and mostly unconscious.
Thus, the sun was setting, casting it's yellowish light through the window of the same division's Fifth-Seat's room.
The yellowish sun-ray landed inside the darkened space, revealing a slight sight of still dripping wet dark locks hanging above crimson-stained, ripped night-robe resting against the wall, falling on the pale bruised skin of the arms, pale marked neck, shoulders and upper exposed chest and back covered with pink, purple and blue marks along with long red scratches and nail-marks. The lower part of the night-robe was turned up to the tights, revealing long legs in the same state as the upper body resting between a different pair of black clad, muscled legs, dripping wet with water, sweat and blood all over, expanding the shining crimson pool on the already stained floor.
The ray of light also revealed the form of another, the much sinister figure of the owner of those black clad legs, kneeling down, hovering too close above the violated figure. His five-clawed hand clutching the neck, almost brushing the ends of the jew-length dripping dark strands and pressing the body sitting-leaning underneath him to the wall. Sharp fingernail dug inside the bruised skin, drawing more droplets of blood that landed on the exposed collarbone that the turned night-robe didn't cover anymore and were almost instantly licked away by a coarse lustful tongue.
The rest of the body attached to the tongue was that of a thin muscle body of male, of a warrior still in his black Shinigami robes. And while one hand was still clutching the pale throat of his fellow slightly thinner companion (even if the other is not on duty at the moment- he just got out of the bathroom after some nice evening shower) and friend-for-life, the other hand gripped a sword -its hilt red from both blood and its natural color- with its sharp silver blade sunken deeply up to the guard inside the other's bloody red stomach and its growing crimson stain over the once white fabric. The blade was so deep inside, that it went through the wall and peeked out, shining silver with red in the dark deserted hallway.
Dull violet eyes glazed over the narrowed soulless ones, seeing nothing but red.
The dripping bleeding body around the blade was completely still.
It had already stopped moving only a few seconds ago.
No more desperate hands clawing the floor and writhing in an attempt to escape from under the slightly bigger one whose pinning that pale dainty under him with his iron hold and brutal take. No more pants, moans and silent cries of pain.
No shaking body trying to crawl to flee away. No surprised choked yelp when his escaping attempt shatters as the other suddenly grabs him by the throat and roughly slams him to the wall so hard that his head's back start to bleed, leaving the first of the crimson blood-trails staining the wall and adding to the red pool on the floor.
No more disrupted breathes and choked gasps and dumbstruck whispers.
No wide frightened lavender eyes trying to comprehend what and why.
Why this person did what he did; why this. Why the very (yet other) blade of this very person; his most precious person is driven into him, twisting and ripping him inside out and making him bleed his life's sources; both physically and emotionally. Again.
No more of that hand clutching the blood--his blood-stained blade in vagueness and blank haze.
-Because his most precious person is his life source; all of him; every single thing he did was to stay near him: follow him everywhere to anywhere, even to the very depths of Hell, even if it meant the death of him. Suiting himself to the other's ways and aspects of life; letting him almost kill himself and not interfere, just to not lose the other's respect, even though it didn't fit him (-he didn't fit. not in 'his' division. Not with his kind of Zanpakuto- soul- not with them. Could he really sit on the sidelines and watch him die?-) Even going as far as lying and deceiving and hiding his true self and abilities just to keep that trust and being by his side-
Eventually the blade was roughly pulled out of his bleeding turn stomach, sending more of the crimson droplets from inside out. The motion ticked on its victim, making him gasp in surprise and pain as his eyes snapped wide once more. The dark-clad bald creature stood up on its feet, steadily clutching the stained blade and without as much as a glance turned away, stepping away.
No more of these shining orbs sparkling with betrayal and despair and hurt and turmoil and pain-
Another gasp, choked cry with a sound of knees softly hitting the wooded floor- and with a last broken whisper and last orangish ray of sunset shining upon, a single tear was shed and a shaking hand reached out and up, weakly grabbing the back of the black Hakama in a limp grip.
'...-Ka...ku-'
Again he was viciously slammed to the wall with a new trail of blood trickling down his forehead.
Again that familiar-yet-new sharp-nailed hand mercilessly grabbed his throat.
...And again the raven-haired Fifth-seat gasped and choked, whimpering to the snake-like tongue inside his mouth and releasing a small uncontrolled moan from his forcefully parted covered lips.
-Because these small dark stones of the bald 'Shinigami' showed nothing inside, and these dull glassed half-lidded violet eyes had long since lost their spark of life and beauty and see nothing but ocean of splashed red and black.
He walked away, leaving behind a broken body sliding down the wall and falling limply to the floor, motionlessly lying in the gory darkened and cold scene of the After-Down.
Alone.
. . .
In the memory you'll find me...
Eyes burning up...
The darkness holding me tightly...
...
Until the sun rises up...
. . .
. . .
NOTICE: The next chapter: will not be. This story is going nowhere right now, but I'm NOT deleting it. In the meanwhile, I'm turning this to a series of tragic Yumi-Ikkaku oneshots.