38. Together
Prompt: "Meet me in the aftermath"
Setting: Historical AU (Sengoku / Warring States Era)
Genre: Romance, Drama
679 Words
Rukia's fingers ran down the sides of her armour, made sure it was properly fastened. Her hand came to rest on the hilt of the sword secured on her hip.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and tried to empty her mind.
She didn't know how long she stood there like that, attempting to quiet her thoughts; her helmet tucked under one arm, her thumb idly running over the familiar silk cording wrapped around her sword hilt.
At the scuffle of feet, her chin rose, her eyes opened.
Ichigo was walking towards her, his back straight, scowling as he always was.
She smiled at him – a small, tight twist of lips.
His scowl only deepened.
He stopped before her, and they studied each other in silence.
To Rukia, donning the armour was a breath of relief; it felt like coming home. He, on the other hand… He looked thoroughly uncomfortable in his armour, as he always did.
But that discomfort would be forgotten as soon as the battle began.
Finally, he lifted his hand, cupped the back of her neck, a few of his fingers tangling in her hair.
He leaned forward – crouched from his height – to rest his forehead against hers.
His scowl eased, his eyes briefly closed.
When they opened again, they were hard, almost demanding as he met her gaze.
The familiar words were almost a ritual, his voice so low and urgent they came out in a hiss: "Meet me in the aftermath."
"Yes," Rukia promised simply. She tilted her chin up – the simple gesture both an invitation and a permission.
His lips crashed against hers in a fierce kiss.
They did not know what the aftermath would be, but that didn't matter. Whether this battle would end in victory or in death made no difference.
In either eventuality, they would be together.
They broke apart from the kiss and he let go, the warmth of his fingers still lingering on her skin. He turned and walked away briskly, without another word, without goodbye, without a second glance.
Rukia looked up at the sky, at the black and white banners flapping in the wind. Out there, men were chanting; preparing for battle.
Rukia squared her shoulders and stood a little straighter. She lifted the helmet onto her head, tied the cord under her chin with deft fingers.
She paused for another brief breath of respite, her lips twisting into a grimace of distaste. Then, she fastened the facial armour to her helmet; a mask which concealed all but her eyes, shining with determination.
Rukia rode out, flanked by banner bearers, surrounded by the crest of her clan. Before them was a sea of people, running towards them, behind them silent rows of men, ready for battle.
Rukia urged her horse forward, led the charge.
The two masses rushed against each other, met and crashed like waves and so the chaos began.
Time lost its meaning. The world narrowed down to her horse, her sword, her enemy.
The field was being churned into mud under the hooves of their horses, beneath the feet of the men fighting for their lives.
Sweat trickled down her face. She swung her sword and blood splattered her armour.
All around was the battle raged; the air filled with shouts of defiance, whinny of horses, clang of steel, cries of dying men.
Her arms were growing heavy, her strikes a little slower now as she tired.
And then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was all over.
They celebrated their victory that night. Rukia sat around the camp fire, surrounded by her retainers. Ichigo never left her side; he stayed alert even while the others laughed and drank.
Rukia had not relaxed either, she never truly could when in the company of her men. But Ichigo's constant presence at her back brought her comfort.
That was something she could rely on, the love and trust of someone who knew her secret.
And really, that was enough.
Another day was over. Another battle won.
And they were together.