Standard disclaimer applies.
Author's notes: Hi again! Sorry about the lack of updates. I just began my college studies and, as of tomorrow, I'll start the third week of my first semester. I decided I'd do my best during college (just like I decided to slack off on high school -sweatdrops-) so I haven't had enough time to properly edit my stories and upload them. Also, a shameless plug! During the course of this week, if I'll be putting up another IchiRuki one-shot inspired on the new ending "Movin'!" one of the few things I've really liked from the fillers. For now, I'll leave you a little, plotless drabble. Hope you like and see you next time!
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Battlefield
27.03.2006
Her head hurts and every single ligament and muscle is tensed in pain. Rukia clutches her right arm with her hand; the tight squeezes she's giving it do nothing to numb the feeling of torn, burnt flesh and muscle or to stop the massive bleeding from her wound. It is only by luck that this is the only major injury she has sustained today. Amidst the sizzling flames that surround her, she searches for her orange-haired substitute, eyes narrowing in deep concentration. Sweat trickles down her brow, her cheek, her chin, and her throat; and the sticky blood on her fingers has already stained the pristine white borders of her dark gi's sleeves, most of it isn't even hers.
She feels desperate, feels guilty and responsible. And, just where the hell is that boy? She thinks.
When she finally finds him, the hollow they'd been fighting is no more and Ichigo is kneeling and supporting himself with his zankoupatou. He is not as battered as she is, but she guesses that is because she'd been dealing with all of the hollow's many underlings by herself. Besides, Ichigo has much more brute strength than she's got… Though the thing had been a hell of a physically strong creature (saying the thing had been huge is an understatement, to be honest), like most hollows, it hadn't been very bright.
Rukia quickly scans him, quietly searching for wounds. His clothes are ragged and he's got scratches on his face and arms, nothing she can't heal. There's blood seeping through his clothes and, certainly, she will later find a large gap near his shoulder. But he's alive and breathing and all will go well. The scratches will close themselves and the bruises will fade.
She breathes a sigh of relief and slides her sword back into her sheath. She can feel the steady pulse of Shirayuki, who is stirring in contentment, in sync with her own heartbeat. Stepping close to him, she forgets about her own wounds and calls his name. Ichigo looks up as she goes on walking toward him, and she also calls him stupid and reckless and says in a rather annoyed tone that he shouldn't have worried her as much. But the boy doesn't say a word; instead he merely plops to the floor and sits leg-crossed, gripping his Zangetsu for support but not as tightly as before. He knows the speech.
And then it starts raining, consuming the fire the hollow has caused and leaving everything in absolute darkness. The moon shines very, very dimly behind the dark clouds that hover over it, but it is enough for them. Smiling, she pats his hair matted with rain and dirt as small sign of her approval towards his work. Ichigo looks up at her, glaring at her with disdain because she knows he doesn't like being treated like a kid. And yet she loves always treating him like one, so she does anyway and ruffles his hair one more time.
"It's unbelievable, but… very well done. That was some show…" The grin in her face grows wider when on her pupil's face a look of complete stupefaction takes over for a split second. And then, he gets the teasing tint within those words and his eyes narrow at her once again. "Mission accomplished, Ichigo-kun."
He glares harder, but it doesn't matter, because she knows he doesn't really mean it. And that strange little feeling of relief and joy and pride and completeness fills her heart.