DISCLAIMER: The usual, with whipped cream on top.
Authors' Note: (Yes, I mean 'authors' in the plural.) Presenting to you... *drumroll* a collab fic between me and Crystalscar! This is dedicated to our friend blackdevil8895 - you know who you are :D haha.
On with the story then.
He could see it, right before his eyes – the dark raven hair, the bright violet eyes and the beautiful kind smile.
The figure, looking at him, her smile gentle yet filled with deep sorrow.
Then it gradually started to fade away, disappearing without leaving the slightest trace behind, as if nothing was ever there in the first place.
Nothing at all – nothing left behind to remember her by. She felt like nothing more than a memory, so far away, a beautiful fairytale-like memory; but one without the ending of 'happy ever after'…
Ichigo opened his eyes and stared at the plain white ceiling above. He was aware that he had yet again dreamt of the same scene; yet again, woke up in the morning covered in sweat and possibly tears.
(He couldn't really tell anymore, just like how sometimes he couldn't tell if he'd just imagined everything that had happened between them – that it was nothing more than a gossamer-thin dream, and sometimes he even wondered if it might have been better for all of them if it had all been nothing more than that; a mere dream, nothing more, nothing less.)
Numbly, he got up and started to dress for school. He slid open the closet door, half expecting a leg or a hand to shoot out of the closet and give him a good morning punch or kick. But… none came.
The room was quiet, the closet empty, save for his own clothes – even though it seemed like just yesterday that Rukia was still living in there, living in the small closet of his. And, of course, Kon. He, or more specifically, it had disappeared right after the winter war and had not been seen since then. It most probably decided to go and stay with the shopkeeper, Urahara Kisuke.
(He couldn't help but think that it might be better off staying with the mentally unbalanced shopkeeper, odd enough as it was.)
Finally, he grabbed his bag and headed to the kitchen for his breakfast, prepared by none other than his helpful and matured cute young sister, Yuzu. He stifled a smile at the usual argument between the father and daughter before engaging in the violent routine morning exercise – otherwise known as the fistfight between him and his father.
That done, he headed towards school accompanied by his friends, listening to them talk about mundane, everyday stuff; grades, school, and who was dating who?
(This was it – he finally had the life he had been wishing ever so dearly in the past; finally able to live his life, normally and safely, beyond the reach of crazy people with god complexes, beyond the reach of a spirit society – in a world where real-life battles, the type where people got hurt, were no more real than unicorns and fairies were –)
At school, he dumped his bag beside his seat and glanced at the table beside him, a habit he still could not change even after he had lost his power. He had tried, uncountable times, but he still hadn't managed to shake the habit.
Maybe because it gave him the tiny glint of hope that had kept him going all along. Maybe. Just maybe.
(–this was everything he'd wanted, so why did he still feel like this?)
"Good morning, Kurosaki-kun!"
A familiar, bright voice.
"Good morning, Inoue." He smiled and greeted back.
Something in him snapped.
Damn it, why am I so depressed? It's not like I will never able to see Rukia again.
He blinked and whacked his fist against his temple. Before he could feel the pain resulting from his own fist, he felt another fist like object connecting to the back of the head, solid and powerful.
Ichigo fell face first onto the table, knocking hard against it.
"Ah, I figured that… Ichigo might need some help…" a deep voice spoke, from somewhere behind him.
Without lifting his head, Ichigo extended his hand behind his head and waved. "Right… Thank you, Sado…"
(Help – since when had Kurosaki Ichigo ever needed help?)
There was a squeal from behind him. "ICHIGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…"
"Oh, shut up Keigo." Ichigo replied without a minute's hesitation.
"Yes, Asano-san, please kindly keep quiet." Mizuno added to Ichigo's defence as Keigo collapsed in a show of mock despair.
"EH! MIZUNO! ICHIGO! WHY?"
(He had asked the same question too many times to count too – why? – asked it so many times that he didn't even know what he was asking anymore, sometimes.)
Ichigo shook his head at Keigo's antics, pulling his books out of his bag as the teacher walked in. The class greeted her before promptly falling into a deep slumber as she began to drone on some point in history that no one knew nor cared about.
His gaze drifted to the window; and suddenly, it was like he could see her again, a small figure silhouetted against the bright sun –
Someone kicked his chair sharply.
"Kurosaki!" the voice hissed quietly. "Stop looking around. Your big head is blocking my view of the blackboard."
"Oh, Ishida! Nice to see you too!" he replied dryly, half-turning towards the Quincy who now sat behind him. "I'm fine, thank you very much. And just for the record: your head is bigger than mine."
He received a glare for his efforts. "Don't be stupid, Kurosaki – "
(And he cannot help but remember another person saying that to him an eternity ago – don't be naïve; a shinigami has to treat all spirits equally!)
The retort was automatic. "I'm not stupid, Ishida!"
"I never said you were. You're just stupider than me, that's all."
Ichigo almost rolled his eyes – typical Ishida – but the next sentence made him freeze.
"She didn't think you were stupid either, did she?"
He felt like a stone statue, unable to do anything but stare in disbelief at the Quincy, who raised an eyebrow at his reaction. "I'm not stupid, Kurosaki," he said, throwing Ichigo's own words back at him. "Apparently everyone else is just too stupid to see it, I guess."
A long second passed as the pair traded stares, one challenging, one disbelieving.
The bell rang for recess.
Ishida stood, gathering his books into a neat stack as their classmates poured out of the classroom in droves.
He turned back to Ichigo just as he was about to leave.
"I admit that I do not know Kuchiki-san very well, but I do know one thing," he said slowly. "She would never forgive you if she saw you like this."
(-"if you try to follow me... I'll never forgive you!")
Someone touched his shoulder. "Kurosaki-kun?"
He looked up – Ishida had left with the rest of the class, leaving only Orihime and himself in the classroom. "What is it, Inoue?"
"Ah – " she held out a juice box to him. "I was wondering if you would like to try some of this?"
She must have misinterpreted the look on his face, since she went on to reassure him that it was perfectly safe for consumption, really, nothing weird like red bean paste at all –
But he was only half-listening, even as he accepted it with a nod of thanks.
(He remembered it all too well – the time on the rooftop, back when everything was normal, back when she had been here.
He remembered something else too – the look in her eyes that day – it seemed to be telling him that she would be waiting for him, no matter what…)
His gaze drifted, unbidden, to the window again.
Wait for me, Rukia.
Wait for me.
END
2nd Authors' Note: Hiya~ Cat Milk-chan :D happy birthday! You're the same age as Ichigo now! Stay happy always ya? *switches computer* In the meantime, the authors would like for their sadistic, eminently lovable imaginations. It must be stated that, despite the best of intentions to produce a happy fic, all attempts have failed terribly, horribly, and vegetably... although, now that I come to think of it, it's probably more along the lines of being nothing more/less than expected of us. Haha. Shall stop spamming now, then.
3rd (and last!) Authors' Note: To everyone else - in case anyone hasn't noticed, this is set after the Winter War. Hope we didn't depress anyone too much :D leave a review and tell us what you think! Thanks for reading.
-JC