Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.
If I Died Tonight
A/N: Alternate events following the battle on Sokyoku Hill. Companion piece to "Can't Stop The Rain."
He can still hear her, telling him not to worry, to mind his own business. Swearing, while he lies in the street, that she'll never forgive him if he comes after her. He'd seen her face, the way she looked at him, relieved that not just anyone had crossed the line for her.
But he hadn't done enough.
The Soul Reapers had sent them all home after the revelation of betrayal, one man content in saying that Ichigo had saved them. He didn't feel that at all, lying in the dark of his room. So what if he'd saved the Soul Society? He hadn't fought through fatigue for them, but for her, for Rukia, and he'd failed her.
He stares at the closet door, knowing that it won't be open in the mornings to come, her voice ringing through his ears when he'd much rather skip school and sleep in. She won't come through his window to drag him away to cleanse Hollows, to make him attend festivals and parties with their friends.
She won't come back to say goodbye.
Rukia would tell him not to sulk if she could, that he should be thinking of happier times. The only thing he can think of is a seemingly pointless moment on a walk home from school, hours before they came to take her away.
"What would you do," he remembers her saying, "if I died tonight?"
He'd thought it was a stupid question. "What the hell's that supposed to mean? You gonna go jump in the river or something?"
"No. I was just wondering. What would you do if something happened to me? Would you miss me?"
"That really is a dumb question. You oughta know what." He'd stopped to stare at her then. "If anything happened to you, I'd chase your sorry butt, and bring you home."
"I see. And if I told you not to follow me?"
"I'd do it anyway."
That was why she'd left the note, why she'd tried to be covert and slip away practically unnoticed.
It would be so easy to say that it was her own damned fault, that she'd gone and gotten herself into trouble. But he'd promised, even if he hadn't said it that way. He'd promised to go get her, keep her safe, and bring her back so she could be happy.
His eyes drift shut, back to the closet door. He doesn't want to wake in the morning and remember where she used to sleep, how she used to complain about how tiny his room was. In fact, he wishes he wouldn't have to wake at all.