Seventh Story – The One He Couldn't Protect
Rating – PG-13
Summary – She was the one he couldn't protect
WARNING – This story contains spoilers for recent manga chapters
Kurosaki Ichigo, age eighty, was dying.
The doctors thought he couldn't hear them speaking to his sisters. They were wrong. "His systems are failing slowly...he doesn't have much time..."
He didn't give any sign that he was awake and listening. Instead he continued to lay in bed, amber eyes jammed tightly shut, wondering how long "much time" was exactly.
Ichigo had been sick for many years now, at least since he was fifty. But the last ten years had, without a doubt, been the worst. He spent most of his time in the hospital, especially the last three months. And now, apparently, he was dying.
Somehow the news shouldn't have surprised him. He'd had it coming for sixty-five years. He'd had it coming for that long.
"Dammit"
Ichigo heard Renji's swear even as he was running (or stumbling) towards the crimson-haired Shinigami, with Inoue close behind. Kneeling on the ground along with Renji were Ishida and Chad, both of whom looked considerably beat up. But they were both in better condition than the small figure they were kneeling around.
"Dammit," Renji's voice sounded weird, strangled. And as Ichigo got closer, and his stomach turned, he understood why.
The room was quiet again. Ichigo couldn't bring himself to open his eyes though. His entire body felt as if it were made of lead. But even so, he couldn't stop the torrent of memories that were suddenly haunting him.
Ichigo and Inoue skidded to a halt, their faces both white with fear and shock. Rukia was on the ground, her black robes stained in blood, her violet eyes closed, her body still. Ichigo's heart stopped. Inoue dropped to her knees without a word and held her hand out over the young Shinigami's body to begin healing her.
Ichigo could feel the wind blowing in his room, and wondered if Yuzu had opened a window before she left. She was always thinking of ways to make Ichigo more comfortable. She and Karin had basically taken care of him since he became sick. They had to. Ichigo didn't have anyone else to help him, no girlfriend no wife. He had never been able to bring himself to find one.
Ichigo didn't even blink as he knelt down next Inoue, who was squinting in concentration as as she attempted to heal Rukia. The bright orange glow of Inoue's powers worked to no avail though. Rukia's face never changed, her eyes never opened. Ichigo gnawed on his lip until it bled, waiting for the violet to show, waiting for Rukia to start yelling at him for something, for anything.
"Don't die Rukia," he whispered, "Don't die, don't you dare die. Wake up, open your eyes, do anything, just don't die. Wake up Rukia"
It was all his fault. He had always known it was his fault. If he had just been stronger, if he had finished the fight sooner, gotten Inoue there to heal her quicker. He had known Rukia was in danger, but he had wasted time fighting. She had ended up being the one person he couldn't protect.
"Ichi-nii," Ichigo, who had been sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, looked up and saw Yuzu and Karin standing in his door. He had been home for three days. His family had been quick to notice the absence of their raven-haired house guest. But no one had questioned it. Until now, at least. "Where's Rukia-chan?" Yuzu asked hesitantly. The truth was, of course, that her body had been taken back to Soul Society. But he couldn't tell that to Yuzu, of course.
"She went away," he said instead.
"Is she coming back?"
"No"
Ichigo's breaths were slowing. He knew that, to quote the doctor, he didn't have much time left. And that was fine with him. He was, in his eyes, lucky to have lived as long as he did, considering what he had been involved in when he had been a teenager. He considered himself incredibly lucky. Luckier than some.
The breeze blew again. And, amazingly enough, Ichigo opened his eyes at last. But he knew at once that something wasn't right. His body felt lighter now, free. And as he sat up for the first time in weeks, he thought, Is this what it's like to be really dead?
"You're not going to Soul Society"
The voice didn't surprise Ichigo. He knew he had been keeping someone important waiting. He pushed himself out of bed without looking around at the door, where the voice was coming from. "I'm not?" he asked, concentrating on the window.
"Your soul is too imbalanced. With the hollow living inside you, and your Shinigami powers. Theoretically, I suppose you could go to Soul Society, if you wanted to. But do really you want to?"
Ichigo thought about this for a second. "No," he said at last, "I guess not. It wouldn't be the same, going there now. So where've you been the last sixty-five years?"
"Consider it limbo. You want that?"
Ichigo looked around at last. Kuchiki Rukia was standing in the door, her violet eyes shining, her raven hair hanging loosely. She was wearing a pure white sleeveless dress that cut off at the knees. "I couldn't protect you"
"Doesn't matter in the end," Ichigo stood up and walked over to her. "You'll disappoint a lot of people in Soul Society"
"Screw 'em," Ichigo muttered, taking her hand. He hadn't been able to protect her once. He was going to make sure that never happened again,
Author's Note: Just a quick "off the top of my head" thing. I thought it was okay. What do you think? Review to let me know!
