Previously on "A Captain's Promise":
I did not understand what possessed me at the moment, but I continued. I looked at Kira's face intently and continued.
Chapter Six
Dreams And Death
I threw on my shihakusho and haori with quick, distracted movements right after taking a cold bath, then slipped out of my quarters without further ado just as distraughtly. Cold sweat had been trickling down my temples for some time now, but my heart still showed no sign of stopping its erratic, wild pounding inside my chest.
Kira…
As I navigated the winding maze-like corridors of the eerily quiet Third Squad, I tried desperately to clear my head. Never mind fixing relationships or sorting through paperwork or worrying or regretting…I just wanted to stop thinking.
I've thought that knocking myself out cold would have done the trick but, just like any other man, I learned the hard way that I have no real control over my own dreams. Even in forced sleep, my mind assaulted me with guilty thoughts, all of them projecting themselves into warped, cruel dreams that all involved Kira one way or another.
In the end, I just didn't feel like I've slept at all.
After what happened yesterday—after seeing that cold look on Kira's face as the lieutenant walked out of the office with a stiff, unforgiving expression—it was no more surprise that I dreamed of him again. This time though, there was just Kira and me. And the lieutenant just stood in front of me, staring at me with a glacial expression not unlike Izumi's except for the fact that it was infinitely more unnerving.
In the dream, I just looked on and watched, unable to influence my dream-self in any way. My body stepped over to the unmoving Kira and slowly ran my fingers through that pale lock of hair that half-hid Kira's face. And as I did…
I suddenly had to stop somewhere along my frenzied walk through the barracks' more obscure places and lean heavily on a wall for a moment, the memory of the dream still strong enough to shake me, still vivid enough to make me crazy… My hand clapped over my mouth as my stomach threatened to heave.
…as I ran my fingers through the fair hair, streaks of fresh crimson slowly colored them, my fingers painting bloody trails on my lieutenant's mask of indifference. Slowly, slowly—always agonizingly slow…
I've started screaming somewhere during the second repetition of the scene, but the torture went on mercilessly for some time before I jerked awake, alone and shivering and reduced to nothing but a blabbering wreck.
"Taichou! Ohayou gozaimasu!" a few squad members greeted loudly, having spotted me from the other end of the long hall—or to be precise, spotted my orange hair.
I did his best to imitate any semblance of normalcy I could manage at the moment before the group of shinigami—totally oblivious to my internal turmoil—came close enough to see the wild look I knew was in my eyes. I allowed their exaggerated cheerfulness to jerk me out of my morbid thoughts, if only for a while. Any reprieve was welcome and much appreciated.
After declining an invitation to eat a somewhat late breakfast before we headed out later for the day's fieldwork, I asked in a barely controlled voice where Kira was. And without noticing anything at all, the rank and file shinigamis pointed me to the Third Squad's training halls. They said the lieutenant was in the kendojo, and that he was bound to be finished his morning practice any moment now.
For a moment, I was grimly satisfied that the people surrounding me were nowhere near as perceptive or as sensitive as the friends I have grown fond of—Rukia, Ishida, Inoue…hell, even Renji could have seen just how flustered I was. But not these ones. It was like I was…almost invisible.
I shook my head again, realizing how far my mentality had deteriorated in the course of a single night. Everything was just…too much. I felt like I was broken, and breaking, and will break yet again at the slightest provocation. And even these reactions were way over the top. I barely even knew the man. So why was I feeling this way at all?
Oh, Kira…
Having decided that I could never again sleep peacefully until I apologized to Kira for all the things I've said, I made my way towards the dojo. The sooner, the better—I could no longer bear reliving those last moments before Kira turned his back on me. I needed to replace those memories with something else, anything…
As long as it got rid of the crushing guilt that I felt, it would be alright. Hell—simply seeing the man's face once more would have sufficed. Just to drown out that last image that seemed to be burned on the back of my eyelids and refused to fade on its own… I did not even care if Kira drew Wabisuke on me—I would have deserved it anyway.
The dojo was separated completely from the main building, located at a corner of the entire grounds. It was further concealed from view by a copse of trees that surrounded the single-storey building.
As I approached, I started feeling the lieutenant's reiatsu—the soft hum, the unique sensation of the quiet energy brushing against my own. It was like a soft tinkling which can only be detected faintly amongst a loud chorus of shaking leaves.
Yes, Kira Izuru's reiatsu was almost musical. Indeed, everything about him was beautiful on the outside, strong and unyielding on the inside…
I took a deep breath, not certain anymore what purpose the overrated gesture served. If anything, it only made me realize that no matter how hard I tried to breathe, the tightness on my throat was never going to allow me to have enough air. There was only one way now to remedy this, and I knew well what that was.
Kira.
When I opened the door of the dojo as carefully as I could though, I hadn't been able to stop myself from grimacing at the lay-out. From the outside, the place looked like a single, huge space—but inside, it was obviously a collection of smaller rooms. It wasn't like I have planned to drop to my knees and grovel the moment I threw the doors open, but I must admit that having to search for Kira wasn't exactly what I had in mind for my apology. Somehow, I was certain this was going to get in the way. Somehow.
I entered cautiously, letting the faint impression of Kira's reiatsu lead me. I slid open door after door, moving steadily but carefully. And such was my concentration that I barely noticed that the rooms were gradually getting smaller, the light growing dimmer as I moved on forward. I had no room for such thoughts anymore—Kira was the only thought that filled my mind now, and I wouldn't have it any other way until I earned the lieutenant's forgiveness. Until I have expressed my sincere apology. Until I saw him again…
Feeling very very close all of a sudden, I opened one last door and froze.
I have found himself inside a really small space—more like a junction of many rooms instead of a room by itself. Its four sides were nothing but doors, the fragile panels painted delicately with pictures of sakura.
Before I could pick a door, I noticed the tiniest bit of movement from the room to the right, drawing my attention immediately.
It was Kira, I realized after staring at the gently swaying figure only fractionally hidden from view by the slightly open sliding door. I've found him.
Suddenly unable to move or make the slightest sound, I just watched as the lieutenant stopped moving around, his back turned on the partially open door. Kira was wearing clothes of almost the same make as their shihakusho, except for the dark red linings on the otherwise purely white outfit.
He really is beautiful, I thought as I drank in the sight of the blond shinigami, dressed in a color that only emphasized how fair his skin was, how delicate his features were, how graceful he moved… He was the very image of an angel, a celestial being. He's precious.
I was so engrossed that I did not realize what the lieutenant was doing until it became obvious. Kira's spotless white hakama dropped to the floor in an elegant heap after a gentle tug on the hakama-himo that held it in place.
My heart skipped a beat.
For a short while, as if listening to something that only he could hear, Kira paused. It should have been the best opportunity for me to move, to leave before the man caught me there, but I could not make myself move a single muscle.
No—I didn't want to. For the life of me, I did not want to…
After a while, Kira slowly peeled the kosode off his shoulders with spindly fingers, revealing the bone-colored shitagi underneath. I was no longer breathing. Blood rushed through my veins madly, sending bone-deep shivers running up and down my body. If I did not know better, I could have sworn I was burning where I stood. And I was feeling exactly like that—like flames were licking at my skin, painting my body with indescribable heat, razing every sensible thought in my head. Yes, I was burning where I stood.
Burning with guilt for further sullying my lieutenant's honor.
Burning with shame from my own, impulsive actions.
Burning with desire to march into that dimly lit room and tear the last fabric off Kira's body myself until the lieutenant was wearing nothing but his lovely skin…
Turning lightly in place as the lieutenant shed off the heavy-looking garment, his new position tilted him enough for me to see the right side of his face. Even under the lack of light, I could easily make out the color in Kira's eyes. It was so dark now—perhaps even the darkest I have ever seen it—that the blue stood in poignant contrast against the washed-out colors that surrounded it.
Then, just as mesmerizingly as before, Kira's fingers slipped under the last thin material that society dictated he wear, and moved with a sweet, agonizing slowness, revealing one pale shoulder after the other…
In a shocking moment of revelation as the garment slid down Kira's shoulders, stopping at his elbows, I almost buckled at the sight. I felt a jolt run through my entire body as my eyes drank in the sight of my lieutenant's exposed skin.
I have never seen anything so…so stunningly beautiful.
Everything about Kira Izuru was exquisite. The sharp curves of his collarbone. The elegant dip below his throat. The graceful line of his neck where it met his shoulders. The flawless translucence of his skin. The defined muscles on his back. The subtle indentations of his spine. The gentle brush of his hair against his nape. All of it…and everything else that I couldn't name yet at the moment for lack of coherence.
The heat that swirled throughout my body had finally stopped moving. The flames have all concentrated on a single point inside me, my desire pooling in one specific place, what little left of my sanity threatening to go up in blazes.
Kira was beautiful.
Exquisite.
Fragile.
And it was only now that I realized that I wanted nothing more badly than to call Kira my own. To take him, make a mess of him, leave my mark all over him.
Mine.
Kira's head tilted faintly to the side, his sapphirine eyes trained on the ground. And in a whisper just as quiet and as serene as the wind whistling outside the dojo, his lips moved softly.
"How much longer are you going to stay there, Kurosaki-taichou…?" His bright eyes flicked towards my heated face.
"I… W-when did you…?" I stammered, more than just surprised at having been caught.
The lieutenant looked away deliberately—he seemed mightily indifferent to the fact that he was barely dressed, and in plain view of his captain no less. "Since before you even left the main building…"
My eyes widened at the statement. "Then why…?"
Instead of answering, Kira simply disappeared from sight. A minute later—which seemed to drag on like forever to me—the door opened all the way and Kira appeared before him, already dressed in the customary black shihakusho.
As he came to a fluid stop right in front of me, the faint redness on his cheeks became obvious to my searching gaze.
Without looking into my eyes, Kira exhaled deeply and said in a resigned tone, "Let's go, taichou."
It was wrong, inappropriate, and unbecoming of me as a lieutenant and as a shinigami. I knew that, but I still did it. I couldn't help it. As much as I wanted to know the boy, so did I want Ichigo to know me… And how could the captain know me if I wouldn't even talk to him properly?
The contradiction was killing me. Everything I wanted were brutal opposites that lived side by side inside my heart. I no longer knew what to do now—it seemed to me like any moment would be the last of my self-control. And it didn't help me that Ichigo wasn't…
That was the problem.
When I felt the boy's impossibly hot reiatsu pulsing in the air—moving closer and closer, enveloping me in an almost palpable warmth—every thought I had about not having anything to do with the boy anymore evaporated. When I felt that deep, heavy gaze rest on me, I suddenly wanted to share with him everything I could.
I allowed Ichigo to watch me as I shed off the pretenses I have carefully cultivated for everyone to see over the years, along with the clothes that reminded me of who I was supposed to be and all that was mine to lose at the moment of my fall.
It had been unbelievably blissful, those few moments where I could feel nothing but Ichigo. I knew I have taken it all from the young captain—every coherent thought, every precious breath, every blush on his face, every little movement on his frozen body… All of it was mine for that brief moment. But it was quickly over.
Gone forever, never to be repeated…
Even so, I was genuinely surprised that Ichigo did not leave—I have expected the boy to flee before I lost the nerve to continue, but no. For reasons I would probably never know, Ichigo stayed.
For a few moments of insanity, I deceived myself into believing that the captain had stayed because he wanted me. But even that brief disgraceful delusion would not last long. It was probably my lewd display and the absurdity of the whole thing that caused the boy to stay rooted in place, unable to process the disgusting scene unfolding before him.
I would never really know, it seemed. And perhaps it was better that way—at the very least, I would never have to wallow in the misery of remembering whatever harsh words the young shinigami would say right before he walked away and cut his ties with Seireitei.
Yes—Ichigo's silence as we walked back to the main building was for the best. I should be grateful that the captain did not choose to react in any other way. And I will never bring the matter up, even if that meant I will never learn now why Ichigo had come looking for me in the first place. It was a trade I was willing to make.
Having made peace with my decision, I looked up from the insignia of our division printed on Ichigo's haori and rested my gaze on the back of his head instead. We were on the way to the Eleventh Squad, where we were needed to assist with the construction of a tower of some kind. Or rather than the actual construction itself, it was more like the handling of a few reiatsu-sensitive materials—which was why Ichigo was heading out personally in the process.
As far as I knew, Ichigo had handpicked our group of six personally—with Izumi's help no doubt. I wasn't at all certain when this choice was made—whether before or after this morning—but if there was one thing I was certain of, it was that this was the only reason I was walking now behind Ichigo. If it had been up to me at all, I would have given it one more day before I returned to Ichigo's side—and apologize properly for acting so crassly the other day.
Then, as if echoing my thoughts, I heard a familiar deep voice float to me quietly.
"I'm really sorry, Kira-san," Ichigo said without looking at me.
I was, again, taken by surprise—the boy did not look like he just said anything, but there was no mistaking that rich baritone that just spoke in what could only be described as sorrowful and regretful.
"I'm sorry. I was… I shouldn't have said some things. I was out-of-line."
The resigned tone in the voice, like Ichigo did not even expect me to forgive him, tortured me to no end. Was that how…heartless I looked? Unforgiving and cold? Was that how Ichigo looked at me now?
I bit my lip. I suddenly felt desperate to at least change this impression Ichigo had of me. I just couldn't stand it if the boy thought of me that way… But before I could think of what to say, we were already at the Eleventh Squad, and Ichigo spoke no more.
The moment we set foot inside the Eleventh Squad's somewhat trashed grounds, a figure dropped on Ichigo from above, almost taking him down in the process.
I sank into a crouch at once, my hand flying to the hilt of his zanpakuto…except that it wasn't there.
I cussed under my breath as I remembered that since the Eleventh Squad's territory was way too close to the heart of Seireitei, the carrying of zanpakuto by lieutenants and captains were forbidden.
"Ichigooo!" Madarame Ikkaku—Third Seat of the self-proclaimed strongest battle unit in Seireitei—cackled loudly, his arm still around the orangehead's neck. "What have we got here, ah? A kiddie captain?"
I winced at the usual, screeching voice—it has been some time already since we've last met, and my ears have grown accustomed to the relative quiet. But more importantly, the bald shinigami was disrespecting my captain in a rather flagrant way, and that I would not stand for.
The Third Seat had released Ichigo now—probably because he was busy rubbing his ribs were Ichigo had elbowed him—but the next words out of his extremely loud mouth did nothing to cool down my temper.
"You're one lucky bastard, aren't you? Ichigo," he guffawed mindlessly, paying me no heed whatsoever, like I was just standing there for decoration. Fine. My eyebrows twitched in annoyance as I sank into a position my body was very familiar with. I was still a rank higher than this tactless Third Seat.
I started chanting.
"Scattered bones of beasts. Spire. Vermilion Crystal. Steel wheel. If moving, it's wind—"
Ichigo turned to look at me with wide eyes the same moment the offending shinigami heard me reciting a high-level spell calmly.
Ikkaku, as was expected, started screeching again. "Hey! Hey! You've got to be kidding me—that's a 60s hadou!"
I merely smirked through the incantation.
"If still, it's sky. The tone of clanging spears fills the—"
Before I could finish though—just two more words and the name of the spell itself and I would have properly lectured Ikkaku into respecting Ichigo now that he was a captain—Ichigo's hand clamped down on mine, the boy's mouth slightly parted in a look of panicked shock.
Behind Ichigo, Ikkaku's head was bent down low in apology, as was the upper half of his body. Beside him was the Fifth Seat, Ayasegawa Yumichika, his slim hand clamped down on his best friend's neck.
"Hora, Ikkaku. Be nice," the vain shinigami said easily. Then, after an almost indiscernible glance at me, Yumichika turned to Ichigo with an apologetic expression and bowed his head as well. "We apologize for the rudeness, Kurosaki-taichou. And in behalf of the Eleventh Squad, congratulations for the appointment."
"Kira, hey," Ichigo said, shaking my hand slowly. "Let's not be rash, okay?"
Fairly satisfied by the speed with which amends were made, I relaxed my stance and let the building energy from the Raikouhou I was chanting dissipate into the wind. Next time though, I wouldn't be so lenient. Notorious or not, no one should get away with insulting the Third Squad—and especially not when the one being affronted was my captain.
Beside me, Ichigo groaned at the two bowing shinigamis and pinched the bridge of his nose. It did not escape my notice that even though his grip had already somewhat loosened, his hand was still around my wrist.
Ikkaku gave Yumichika a murderous glare, then proceeded to speak through gritted teeth. "Forgive my rudeness, Kurosaki…taichou."
"Not again," Ichigo said under his breath.
As if by cue, Zaraki-taichou—with Kusajishi-fukutaichou perched on his back like always—walked into the scene looking ecstatic. He was also amazingly indifferent when Ikkaku threw Yumichika off his back and dove into him with fists raised. The Eleventh Squad captain obviously did not give a damn even if two of his highest-ranked seated officers started a brawl right there, dragging in about a dozen other shinigamis as they tried to stop the two.
"Ichigo," Kenpachi leered, ambling over with his overly arrogant and entirely graceless gait. Behind him, Yachiru was laughing quite gleefully, as if she was watching a live comedy show. "You vanish awfully fast every damn time, Ichigo. What, you're a coward now?"
I—knowing a few scenarios to which this conversation could lead—looked at Ichigo uncertainly, hoping I'd get some clue as to what to do. I gulped uneasily when I saw that there was a forced smile plastered on the smaller captain's face, his body obviously angled for easy flight.
"Now's hardly the time for this, Kenpachi," Ichigo said nervously through the smile. "We're here now to assist in the construction of that tower."
The nervous team of four we have brought with s glanced briefly at the half-finished tower in the distance that Ichigo had referred to. Why anyone in their proper mind would decide to erect something supposedly that important inside—or even anywhere near—the grounds of the Eleventh Squad was a mystery to me and will probably remain to be one.
Before they could stare at the tower for long though, their attention immediately darted back to the two captains as Kenpachi stepped closer, finally forcing Ichigo to stumble a step backwards.
This almost involuntary action made Kenpachi bare his teeth in a predatory smile. "Screw the tower, Ichigo. It's not like it's going anywhere. You're acting like a damned sissy. Koi!"
Left with no choice, I assumed a ready stance once more. I hurriedly flicked through my knowledge of kidou, trying to decide what to use in case Kenpachi actually started attacking—a combination of bakudou and hadou? Or should I just go with Destructive Arts all the way? I knew all of this was just a last resort though, good only for a distraction—I held no illusions about being able to do anything to stop the barbaric captain once he truly started.
"I'm glad everyone's looking lively today," a sweet, motherly voice said behind them.
"Unohana-san!" Ichigo almost cried out in relief.
Kenpachi's eyebrows twitched as he glared at the gate.
Unohana-taichou walked in with a calm demeanor and a lovely smile. "It's always wonderful to see you all very energetic. But I hope we can use this energy to finish the tower today. You see…" she paused between the two captains and opened her eyes slowly. "…it is really important that we get this done on time."
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Ichigo gulped. "Understood…taichou."
The same small smile just stayed on the motherly face, as if nothing was wrong. She didn't even hint at anything, really.
Slowly, Kenpachi straightened up and looked at Ichigo with the unspoken promise of murder. "Che. Next time, you're dead, Ichigo."
The first Kenpachi's face relaxed into a serene smile, her dark blue eyes disappearing in the process. She looked gently over her shoulder and called out to her lieutenant. "You may bring it in now, Isane."
An entire platoon of shinigamis from the Fourth Squad brought in a gigantic, crystalline orb that barely fit through the entrance. My eyes widened fractionally as I recognized some of the shinigamis in the front as the ten highest seated officers of the Fourth Squad. Then my eyes darted to the orb they have hauled in.
If I was correct in thinking that this was the same as that palm-sized reiatsu-consuming object that Ichigo delivered to the Fourth the other day, then that would explain why all the blood had drained from my young captain's face.
I sighed quietly, then stepped to Unohana-taichou. It seemed that no one else had thought of doing what was supposed to be done, anyway. "Please tell us what we need to do, Unohana-taichou."
Unable to help it any longer, I let myself drop to the ground in exhaustion. Forget construction—all I did was hold that damned ball for a minute. One goddamned minute.
"Are you alright, taichou?" my equally worn out squad members asked me, plopping down beside me.
I straightened my back and smiled at them lightly. "I'm alright. No need to worry. Thanks anyway." Lucky you.You didn't have to touch that damn sphere. "I'm fine. Kenpachi…isn't."
We all looked at the direction of the Eleventh Squad captain, lying spread eagled on the ground, no longer moving. In the distance, his pink-haired lieutenant had her cheeks puffed out in annoyance, driving the squad into the ground with work.
I thought that this has got to be the first time I saw Yachiru and Kenpachi in any given place without being together. Moreover, this has also got to be the first time I saw the child-like lieutenant looking pissed. Looking around me briefly and taking in the various expressions, I figured it was their first time as well.
"Faster! Faster!" Yachiru said, stomping her foot impatiently. "Ken-chan did not haul that ball up there only to have it brought back down. Faaasteeer! Come on, move! You heard it—we need to finish this today. Mou!"
For a squad full of fight-loving bastards, they sure were putty under the small shinigami's hands. Putty—or just damn scared of the fuming Yachiru. At any rate, it was definitely an interesting sight.
I surveyed the topmost part of the tower, squinting to see the shinigamis working their way up in order to secure the last pieces of the reiatsu-restricting materials that needed to be braced around the orb thingy. They were almost there, but the climb was proving to be harder than they have initially expected. I restrained myself from smirking—at least I wasn't the only one who had a taste of those reiatsu-draining nightmares. But of course, it was an added complication that they were carrying unreasonably heavy loads—various whatnot for the construction part, such as hammers and nails.
I shuddered to think how Unohana-taichou could handle a sphere like that on her own without ending up like Kenpachi. I have learned long ago never to underestimate the most gentle-looking captain among the thirteen—even more so than Ukitake-san—but this was just…unbelievable. She has got to be a monster under that shihakusho. Scary.
I stood up, immediately copied by the four beside me. They all flashed me good-natured smiles, like they truly enjoyed working under my direction. The thought made me…happy. Of course it did.
I grinned back at them. "Let's get this done, guys. Then we can go back and have that well-deserved dinner."
Stretching my arms and legs along the way, I walked to the base of the tower. Behind me, my squad members gathered the tools they need.
"Oops," I breathed as my haori—which had been flying around nonstop in the blowing wind—got snagged on a protruding piece of wooden post riddled with nails. I tugged on it lightly, but to my dismay, the haori did not seem to want to come off that easily. "Damn—who left this thing out here, anyway? This is freaking dangerous," I muttered as I tried to free the fabric without getting it torn.
For some unfathomable reason that I would probably never understand anyway, the Old Man saw fit to send me a jigokuchou at once point, telling me to defend and preserve the life of my haori at any and all costs.
"Damn that old geezer," I snorted, trying to be patient.
One moment, I was busy trying to get a particularly rusty nail off my haori…then all of a sudden, there were shouts.
"Look out!"
"Get away from—"
"Tsuriboshi!"
…the sound of heavy glass breaking…
"…run!"
"Taichou…!"
Without fully raising my head, I realized that one of the workers working their way up must have slipped. Somehow, I managed to see through the disjointed mass that none of the shinigamis have actually lost their grip on the tower—safe, I thought in relief. And it was only after I have ascertained that no one fell off that I realized what I was looking at in the first place.
With an almost comical delay, I realized with a gasp that the disjointed mass I was squinting through earlier was actually the bulk of the materials that were being hauled up the tower, falling down towards where I stood with the speed of gravity.
My hand twitched as I prepared to defend myself. But I only had time to remember that Zangetsu wasn't on my back—one of a captain's restrictions.
"Shit," I breathed.
For the shortest moment, I felt something wrap around me…
A warm weight pressed against my body briefly. The pressure…it felt oddly comfortable—
—then it was gone.
I suddenly felt myself flying backwards.
My cheek scratched against the ground painfully as I landed on my side and rolled over about three times before the momentum stopped propelling my body forward.
"Ow," I groaned, my shaking fingers hovering over the stinging graze on y face. Forget the snag from the rusty nail—my haori was now almost divided into two, and my shihakusho had turned a dusty brown.
I looked back at the debris that now rested on the very spot where I stood just mere moments before—the air around was still sizzling with reiatsu from the more sensitive materials that shattered upon impact.
When I realized that the shinigamis around were still yelling frantically, I frowned. Then I heard what they were actually saying…
"Kira-fukutaichou!" my own squad members yelled desperately, flocking over the mound of debris.
I felt all the blood drain from my face.
"Where's Kira?" I demanded, pushing shinigamis aside as they surrounded me, ignoring the deeply pulsing bruise on my left side.
Acting quickly, other shinigamis have already started dismantling the smoking mess, ignoring the sparks of energy in the air. When they lifted a particularly large stone slab, I saw the tiniest bit of blond hair…
"Kira! Kiraaa!" I roared, forgetting where I was or who I was supposed to be.
Strong sets of arms quickly wrapped around me, causing me to thrash around even more.
"Taichou! Please calm down!"
"Shut up! Let me go!" I bellowed, pain scraping through my throat as I shouted with all my might. "Calm down?! How dare you tell me to calm down! You calm the fuck down, and let—go—of—me!"
With a wild burst of uncontrolled reiatsu, I managed to shake them all off of me and dived into the rubble recklessly.
I roared again in frustrated anger when I discovered I couldn't lift the things off quickly enough.
"Taichou!"
I bared his teeth in a wild snarl. "Shut the fuck up!"
"Get your sorry ass the hell out of there, Ichigo," a gruff voice said behind me.
The next moment, I was easily plucked off my feet and thrown down into the ground with enough force to pound a normal human's body into a bloody mess. By the time I have jumped back to my feet—a keening, broken sound issuing from my throat unconsciously—the mountain of rubble was already gone.
Lying on the ground was…
"Kira…" I gasped.
His black shihakusho was smoking and tattered, exposing slits of bruised flesh.
I dropped to his knees at once, his entire being ceasing to function.
"I…Izu…"
My hands fluttered helplessly over the limp figure.
Under the battered and broken body, the scorched earth slowly turned dark with the quickly pooling blood of my unconscious lieutenant.
Next on "A Captain's Promise":
…I shivered as my lips moved softly against Kira's, finally tasting my lieutenant for the first time…
