(Day 7)
It was movement that roused Getsu from the light daze he had fallen in. The body he held was shifting, trying to turn in the limited space the spirit's arms provided. Getsu eased his grip, feeling the weight reposition itself before settling down again.
The new position caused a few strands of hair to brush his lips. With a scowl, Getsu brought up a hand, burying the digits into the messy orange-grey. He let his nails caress the scalp, smoothing out the soft spikes and soothing his wielder, should he have become restless.
Wait...
He let his hand slide from the back of Ichigo's head, down to his neck and rest on his shoulders. Shoulders that his hands no longer dwarfed when placed upon them. The realisation had his eyes open, needing confirmation. Isane had been corrected in her estimation. While Getsu hadn't been paying attention, Ichigo had returned to his normal stature.
Ichigo appeared to be fast asleep, one arm slung over his spirit's waist while his other hand had a gentle hold on the other's kisode. The little grow spurt placed his head right beneath Getsu's chin, his feet exposed as the blanket only covered from the chest to the knees.
To see his king had recovered from his regressed physical state left Getsu with a bittersweet taste in his mouth. Still, his face borne a rueful smile.
'Did I wake you?'
Getsu glanced up, meeting Tensa's gaze.
'No', he murmured. 'I felt him move'.
Fingers nestled in the shorter strands, carding through the tresses and nursing the scalp beneath it.
'Ah… He changed back a short while ago'.
'Why didn't ya wake me?' Getsu asked. His voice was unable to convey his irritation as sinful fingers danced through his hair.
'You seemed content', Tensa answered.
'Stop doing that', Getsu groaned, sending a half-hearted glare the other's way. 'I'm trying to be mad'.
The fingers stilled, lingering a moment before Tensa removed them from Getsu's head. For once, Tensa looked away-too tired to take the accusation head-on.
'You know damn well I didn't want to sleep!' Getsu hissed.
'You needed the rest', Tensa tried to argue. 'Ichigo was asleep for the most part, you have not missed anything'.
'I don't care', Getsu snapped, the answer applying to both statements. 'It wasn't a choice–'
A quiet knock on the door interrupted the scolding. Getsu tensed, holding his wielder tighter. Neither spirit said a word, postponing the inevitable by whatever second they could get.
After half a minute, the handle was pressed down and Isane peaked into the room. Her gaze went from the empty bed to the couch, meeting the two pairs of eyes that watched her. She noticed the third-adult-sized-body sprawled out on the couch and her face fell.
Quietly, she entered the room, closing the door behind her. 'I see he has recovered'. At her words, Gold tore away from her. 'I will have to inform the Twelfth'.
There was an increase in tension in Getsu's muscles, his face vanishing in the hair of his wielder. Tensa's hand went up again, fisting the fabric of the other's jacket.
'We know'.
Something inside her fractured at the defeated tone in which the hooded spirit had spoken. The trembling in the Hollow's frame like a dagger twisted in her stomach.
'I will give you a moment'.
She quickly left the room, leaving the door ajar. She could hear the two spirits talk, their words an illegible murmur to her ears. Realising she was eavesdropping, Isane took a step away from the door and called for a Hell Butterfly.
One landed on her hand. With a heavy heart, she informed Mayuri of Ichigo's recovery and send the little thing on its way. She watched it fly out of sight before returning to the room.
'I-I'm afraid it's time, Getsu-san, Tensa-san'.
The spirits merely hummed. Their spiritual pressure was wrapped around the three of them. As if to soak their wielder's clothes with it. To leave a trace of himself should this be the last time.
Isane took her time walking over, granting the two a few more seconds. As she stood by the couch, Getsu spoke up. He didn't move, didn't turn his head to look at her. Simply murmured his request into orange hair, barely loud enough for her to hear.
'If I end up on the wrong side of things and he somehow survives... tell him I'm sorry, will ya?'
Her heart shattered. 'I will'.
The manifestation ended abruptly. Their bodies-no longer forced to maintain shape-burst at the seams, their consciousness shattering. Blue-red and black-red whisps of energy filled the room, swirling around in disorientation before returning to the mass of their wielder's weakened spiritual pressure.
Their consciousness returned to them as their bodies reformed inside the mindscape. The lack of intent had them appear separately and in a random place.
Getsu was still reeling from vertigo when he realised gravity was dragging him down. Only able to turn his head a bit to see the canopy of lush green flood his vision before he crashed through it. Twigs snatched his clothing and hierro-less skin, the branches breaking some bones in their attempt to break his fall.
The echo of a furious roar hit his ears just before the ground hit him. The soft grass felt like concrete to his back. Air and blood lunged from his mouth on impact, leaving the spirit breathless and in pain. It had been a while since he'd felt genuine agony. Adrenaline was one Hell of a drug, one that lasted long enough for his High-Speed Regeneration to do its job.
Speaking of the technique, it was already healing his broken bones and other major injuries. Whisps of white smoke rose from the cuts on his skin, leaving no mark behind. The second his lungs were no longer pierced by his ribcage, Getsu sucked in a deep breath only to choke on it.
A shadow fell over him. Large, calloused hands rolled him on his side, making it easier to cough. One remained on his back, rubbing useless circles that he appreciated nonetheless.
The coughs became ragged breathing and then heavy. Getsu moved a hand to cover the one on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. He was allowed to roll on his back again, seeing Zan-how much he had missed the sight of the man's shikai-kneeled by his side.
'It is not like you to give up'.
'I ain't given up', Getsu waved off-hearing that baritone voice made his chest tighten. It hurt so much. In a desperate tactic to relieve the heartache, he let his mask form. That cursed heart of his ceased to be, taking those damned emotions with it.
The void in his chest was welcome. Getsu let out a sigh, a soft chitter drifting from his throat. Never had any hope to begin with.
'Whyever not?' Zan questioned, understanding the other so wholly there was no need for words or even signs. 'The chances are not as hopeless as you might believe them to be'.
I know exactly what the odds are, Getsu snarled. And they aren't in our favour.
'I never claimed they were'.
Getsu eyed his counterpart, noticing there was a tension in the man's shoulders. Tch, now look who isn't behaving like themselves.
'Considering the situation, I believe we both have ample reason to', Zan said.
They stayed silent for a while. Zan had taken hold of Getsu's hand, rubbing his thumb over the back. Whether he was trying to soothe his counterpart or himself wasn't clear. Probably both.
'I do not want it to end this way', Zan spoke. 'And I cannot let myself believe that it will'.
Getsu wanted to growl but he ended up crooning instead. Because he knew how the other felt. If he hadn't been so spent, he would have been levelling the mindscape in his rage. Would've tried to materialise and abscond his wielder somewhere safe. Would've tried to take over and escape.
But after seven days of forced manifestation, three of which spend hollowfied, he was exhausted-mentally and physically. This is why it hadn't been him but Zan who had tried to manifest, attempted to take over Ichigo's body and had roared in fury when he found he couldn't.
Zan shifted, now carding his fingers through Getsu's short mess of hair. The Hollow Zanpakutō didn't object, angling his head into the hands and allowing a purr to vibrate in his throat.
'We could try our bankai'.
Gold snapped back open, pupils only a pinprick. Calm and beautiful sapphire blue caught his panicked eyes. Answering the question that thrilled in his throat.
Yes, he was serious.
'It may not work', Zan admitted. 'But I believe it is worth trying, should it come to that'.
Getsu nursed his bottom lip, it was a tempting offer. If this was going to be the end, they would never get the chance again. Would never arrive at that promised destination of being complete and staying that way.
But... what if it did work? Then they would be stuck. They would learn to live with it, he knew. Grow to accept the decision. Something they then could because they would still be alive.
The sound that left his throat was as close to a whimper as he was capable of managing. A keen strangled by an awkwardly timed exhale.
They couldn't. That bankai, what it brought with, it can't be rushed. It would ruin the memory, cast a shadow over what should be a joyous moment.
Moreover, Getsu simply didn't feel ready to take that step. And he refused to let himself get pressured into making such a decision, especially under these circumstances.
The pain that flickered across Zan's face at the response made the hole in his chest ache. Beautiful blue broke contact with bright gold and a croon lodged itself stuck in Getsu's throat.
'No, you are right', Zan said, fingers carding through short white tresses again as a manner of apology. 'I understand'.
The croon faded to a purr. Getsu found the other's gaze again and let a chirp slip through in request.
Instead of answering, Zan reached out towards the one they both were part of. He hadn't been successful when he had tried to materialise on his own, an unfamiliar force was keeping them trapped here. Still, he held out hope this, at least, would work.
It did.
While he couldn't pass through the barrier with his reach, what he needed could pass through it. Zan grabbed it and started to pull it over. Reach. Grab. Pull. Until-
Getsu's turned his head away, purr wavering as Ichigo appeared beside him.
His wielder was sleeping. All the energy he had regained over the past few days his body had to spend in order to return to normal. It would take a few days before Ichigo would wake again, much to Getsu's sorrow.
He wanted to talk with his wielder. Exchange words for-what is likely to be-the last time. Lay out exactly how he felt with words instead of actions. Just to make sure his wielder knew how much he cared for him.
How sorry he was it had to end like this.
'It is not your fault', Zan said as if Getsu had spoken his thought out loud. 'You are as much the victim as we are. You have nothing to apologise for'.
If only Getsu could convince himself that was true.
Turning on his side, Getsu threw his arm over Ichigo's side and pulled him close. Sharp nails sliced through fabric but never grazed the skin underneath. The mask fractured when Getsu dig his chin into messy orange, allowing the tresses to caress his face. Once his nose was free, the spirit took in a deep breath. Savouring the scent of sandalwood, raw power and something that was exclusively Ichigo.
A soft groan had him freeze. The man in his arms moved and Getsu was sure he had accidentally woken his wielder up. Ichigo turned a bit, arm winding over Getsu's side, and settled down again with a hum.
A weight of fluffy warmth came to rest on his body, covering him from shoulder to toe. Getsu looked up, finding Zan had found the cloak. The man knelt down by them, hand once more nestling in Getsu's hair.
'Sleep'.
Sleep? How in the world was Getsu supposed to fall asleep, knowing what his future was almost certain to contain? Any minute now, that clown of the Twelfth would have his way and Ichigo's soul would be torn asunder.
But with his wielder resting so peacefully in his arms, both of them held warm by his cloak, and Zan's sinful fingers carding through his hair, Getsu was out before he realised it.
#
TO BE CONTINUED
BLEACH – Tite Kubo
