A/N: one of many, many, many, many fics on those fateful seventeen months. more will follow.
A/N: and thank you WarriorofAnime, for the suggestion!
Drabble collection: when in doubt, bleach it out
We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points
Title: silence is deafening
Summary: And blindness is dying. –Ichigo/Rukia
.
.
.
The first thing he noticed was the silence. The noise had died down. Perhaps that was the most surprising part; he'd gotten so used to the hum of spirits speaking, begging, wishing, laughing, screaming—but they weren't doing that now. Or, they were, but he just couldn't hear it.
Inoue, Ishida, and Chad could still hear it. They still frowned, ticked their ears to a particular direction, glanced at one another. They could still feel it.
The silence brought earaches.
He hadn't realized several things about losing his Spiritual Pressure. He hadn't realized the absolute silence that would come. He hadn't realized the blindness either.
Where are you? He glanced at the tops of lamp poles, wondering if he would catch the black tip of a kimono, or hear the jingle of Sodenoshirayuki's bells. Nothing.
Did you know that this would happen? He wanted to ask her. Did you know that—?
But of course she must have. And he must have missed the acceptance across her body, when he'd told them all in her home that he'd made peace with it. He could practically see that tiny smile now, hear her thoughts: If you're okay with it, then—
He'd continued to run into battles without a thought in his head, other than—protect! I must protect them! And this is what comes of it. What had she thought, watching him go? She had not tried to stop him, not really. Was that the acceptance?
But yes, this was the girl who had walked with eyes wide open into her sacrifice, who had threatened even her own zanpakuto with destruction if she proved a threat. Did she think this was the same? Did she think he knew?
Damn, if only he'd known—
What would he have done different? He'd told them, and himself, that he was prepared to lose all the powers he'd gained for the purpose of protecting them—to protect them. But the silence, the utter silence and darkness of the loss—had she known about that? Had she known, even then, that his eyes would forever pass over her, unseeing?
You've always known more about me than I know myself—! He wanted to say. I didn't know, I swear, I didn't know that I'd lose you!
He felt like a child again; he wanted to ask his father how he'd dealt with it for so long, but then again, Dad had Mom, until—and he couldn't continue. He clenched his teeth and fists, like that would do something to remedy the situation. She'd faded before his eyes, and he'd thought he'd known, he thought he'd understood—but, but—
Forgive me. Forgive me, I didn't know. He spoke to the open air.
The silence was deafening.
.
.
.
fin.
A/N: please review