.:Twenty-One:.
Rukia
He looked so peaceful in his sleep. The even rush of breath through his lungs was a comforting sound, proof of his vitality.
He had disappeared for days on end without a word, had left not a single trace behind him. He was always like that: running off and doing whatever the hell he wanted without a thought for others beyond what he had to do to protect them. Apparently, ensuring mental and psychological well-being was not part of that.
He'd left in silence, and now he returned to her bloodied and bandaged.
Lifting her head, she rested her gaze upon his unconscious face. "Ichigo," she murmured, "Just who the hell are those guys? And what kind of power are you trying to obtain?" He didn't answer. Dead men tell no tales, and it seemed the same was true of those who slept.