Over a century of feelings came crashing upon Chessebelle's frail shoulders, her body the most fragile it had ever been and ever would be. Years upon years of emotions shook her to her core, taking hold of the small woman and sinking its talons into her. Anger, frustration, hurt, confusion, resentment, heartbroken.
Anger that he would go on that mission and leave her by herself. Frustration that he didn't listen to her that night, taking her cautions as jokes. Hurt that he was gone and she hadn't even said goodbye. Confusion that everyone held a funeral and then moved on with their lives like nothing happened. Resentment towards everyone in the Seireitei for letting these captains and lieutenants die.
Most all, she was heartbroken that the love of her life had slipped through her fingers. A ribbon that was held out before her and dropped, too clumsy to catch it before it fell into the abyss.
Her knees felt weak but she held strong as she looked at the blonde standing across from her. His hair was shorter now, while her's had continued growing. His eyes stared at her with so much pity that she was disgusted with herself. Those foreign eyes that held so much familiarity within them, her lover's warm brown eyes that she had forgotten because it had been so long.
"You died."
She spoke the words aloud, as if saying them would convince her that she was seeing things, that they would speak it into existence. Her reality was crumbling around her-all those years that she had wished to spend with him and all those years that she was on her own were suddenly meaningless. He was standing before her with a stupid look on his face that taunted her, a face that said he was sorry that she thought he was dead, a face that spoke lies to the world she lived in for so long.
The tension between the two souls only grew as they examined each other from afar; he had gained human clothes while she remained in her dull black shihakusho.
"You're just standing there like you didn't fucking die! You're looking at me like I'm a bird that's about to die on the side of the road! Stop looking at me like that! You're the one who was fucking dead!" Her voice sliced through the air, the blonde wincing at her words as if they were knives being thrown at him. The woman was before him now, inches from his face.
She smelled him, the woody smell that she used to get drunk off of in his bed. He smelled her, the familiar lavender that would follow in her wake after she left a room. They stared into each other's eyes, her dull ones meeting his brilliant ones. There was a fire radiating from their bodies, their connection rekindled after years upon years.
"Shinji Hirako... How could you?"
Her voice was breaking, whimpering with emotion as she balled her hands up into fists at her side. The woman reached up and pressed her fists into his chest, gingerly at first as if to see if he actually was physically in front of her and then putting more effort behind them. She began to push him, Shinji letting her do so, stepping back with each shove.
"You left me! You fucking died and left me by myself, just like Sojun had! You were gone! I was all by myself and lost in a scary world that I still didn't understand, Shinji... You were the only thing that I thought was going to be a constant for me..." Chessebelle's voice began to trail off, her tears beginning to take over and making it hard to breathe between each word.
"Chessebelle, I'm sorry," The first words that Shinji spoke to her in over a century. Her breathing accelerated at the sound of his voice, looking up at him with wide eyes. It was as if she was a fish out of water, gasping for air and having a hyperventilation attack in his arms. Looking down at her, there was nothing else Shinji could bring himself to say in that moment. Instead, he pressed his lips to her.
The kiss felt like it lasted for years, instead of the measly moments that it actually was. Every nerve had been set ablaze under his touch, her fists now gripping his shirt as if her life depended on it, as if she would fall to the ground and wake up from this dream. She pulled him closer, Shinji wrapping his arms around the smaller woman and cradling her head. His fingers weaved into her messy hair, the way she used to do with his own before they fell asleep most nights.
She was invincible, untouchable in this reality, but at the same time she felt weak, fragile, broken already.