DISCLAIMER: Bleach does not belong to me
Rukia – on the meaning of certain words. Companion piece to Futility.
Ichigo has freakishly long legs that can outrun her even when his pacing himself. He also has broad, strong shoulders, fit to accommodate the heaviness of all worlds upon them. And he's so young and foolish it breaks her heart. He cannot say in words what his heart screams in blood, with every pounding beat-beat-beat that she has learned to hate because it only serves to remind her of an age old argument – literally so – that, in view of recent developments concerning his heritage, shouldn't be that much of a big deal. But that doesn't make him any less young and any less green and any less foolishly easy to love, and to miss and to care for.
Funny how priorities seem to change when he's not around to annoy her with his loudness – for he is loud, from the bottom of his outrageously colourful sneakers to the top of his orange hair that becomes him in ways she cannot describe, draw or paint, even with her superior artistic skills. Ichigo's absence is the silence of the grave she doesn't remember or is even sure she had. She gives it a chance, for his sake, not hers, and learns how futile resistance is. Ichigo is so like his mother – she will hear someone, sometimes, say – the star they all orbit around and, by the gods, how she wishes she's not one of those meteors that crash and burn when they run against his massive power, but a steadily revolving planet, basking in the glory of his warmth. Only when she is deprived of it does she understand its true valor. And its true name. The name of the feeling she had mistakenly attributed to other gods in Rukia Kuchiki's personal pantheon. It is not the love for a most adored brother or the caring feeling she exhibits towards her trusted friend. It is not even that which she still harbours for her beloved mentor.
No. It is more vibrant and stronger by a thousand fold. It's not something she can easily hide in the dark corners of her heart for it will only break free, like wild fire through her veins, leaving in its path slowly sizzling rivers of raw, burning emotions that consume her from the inside out even as she tries to temper it with the cold that so easily comes during her strenuous training.
With Ichigo, Rukia has learned the meaning of words like ardent and incandescent or tempting and love and they opened up a whole new world of possibilities that are difficult to suppress.
No matter what.
No matter how much she tries.
Tried.
And forever failed.
And when she sees him, truly sees him, when the curtains of rain and despair finally part to make way for her grand entrance, in his eyes – the most vulnerable part of him, because they are incapable of hiding anything from her, be it madness or the myriad of little lies he feeds to himself on a daily basis like the boy that he really is – she sees all the admission she needs.
Her feet are clean. Her heart is aching, crying out for his, but her hands are steady.
All it takes is a sharp sword, smoothly sliding in his chest, with practiced ease, as if it belongs.
And so, she bravely steps into his soul...
"Yeah...It's been a while."
...where her true home is.
A/N: I love Bleach, I love Ichigo and tonight I was reminded of that. This came to be. Thanks for giving it a chance. I hope you enjoyed it…
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Thank you :)