Inner Conflict — XIV
Momo's head snapped up, her eyes widening. "Shirou-chan, you feel that?"
Toushirou finished off the last of the Arrancar he had been battling. He knew what Momo was referring to. "She did it."
Momo grinned. Ichigo's spiritual pressure was back to normal. "I knew she could…"
Momo's voice trailed off, her eyes widening. Toushirou turned to look at her. "Momo? Something wrong?"
She didn't answer. Toushirou made a face, stretching his senses out at as far as they could go. He didn't feel anything out of the ordinary though. Most of the foot soldiers had been cleaned up, and those that had survived were too injured to do anything. They'd be carted off to the twelfth division eventually.
"All right Momo, I give up. You obviously sense something I don't. What's wrong?" Momo didn't answer right away.
"It's…thinner."
Toushirou groaned. "Speak a language I understand, Momo, not riddles."
"The reiatsu in the air. It's thinner, Shirou-chan." She sounded strangely impatient. "Don't you feel it?"
Toushirou closed his eyes, trying to feel what Momo obviously felt. It took him a minute. "You're right." He muttered finally.
"Maybe…" Momo said slowly her voice tentative, "maybe that's Aizen's plan? All of our defenses depend on a strong amount of reiatsu, after all…"
"And constant attacks from large amount of Arrancar, no matter how weak, is going to break down the reiatsu that's in the air." Toushirou finished Momo's sentence, realizing what she had already figured out. "Aizen's trying to break down our defenses. That must be what he's doing in Karakura Town as well. The weaker he makes the places—"
"The easier they'll be to take."
Toushirou shook his head. "We'd better tell this to Yamamoto." Without thinking, he reached out and took Momo's hand. "Let's go."
"Well, well, look at you…the epitome of pitiful."
Ichigo, who was leaning against the wall, his arms tucked behind his back, shifted his eyes to glare at Renji, who was standing in front of him, smirking. "Get the hell out of my face." Ichigo growled, not in the mood to deal with his red-haired friend.
"Or what? Gonna go hollow on me?"
"I mean it Renji—"
"Calm down, calm down." Renji said quickly, realizing that Ichigo was completely serious. "I'm kidding."
"Do I look like I'm laughing?"
"All right. Backing off. So what are you doing here, anyway? You don't look to beat up." Ichigo snorted.
"Yeah, want to know why? I — the hollow—" he corrected himself instantly, "was fighting Rukia." Renji pressed his lips together tightly.
"Wild guess — she's why you're here." Ichigo nodded silently. Renji sighed. "She deserves a trophy for being the world's biggest moron. Let me guess — she went looking for the fight."
"I don't know." Ichigo admitted. "I don't…remember. And you know what, I think I'm glad I don't remember. She was beat up pretty bad when I finally…I don't know, came to, I guess you could say. I kind of wish I did know what happened. Not knowing leaves a lot to imagination — and none of it's good."
Renji didn't answer. Ichigo looked up at the ceiling of the fourth division building, scowling. "I'm such an idiot." He said finally, hitting his head a couple of times against the wall. "I can't believe I let him take over…what was I doing? How could I be so weak? And now Rukia's…"
His voice trailed off. "You're right." Renji said after a minute. "It's all your fault. You are, without a doubt, the world's biggest moron. You're an insult to Shinigami everywhere. You don't deserve the title captain. You're pathetic."
With each word he spoke, Ichigo's temper rose. Renji was forced to duck as the orange-haired man took a swing at him. "Who the hell asked you?!"
"Oh give me a break!" Renji snapped. "I spent fifteen years trying to tell Rukia what happened to you wasn't her fault and that didn't get me anywhere. So hey, why not just agree with you that what happened to Rukia is your fault? Maybe it'll get me a little further."
Ichigo took a step back. Renji, in his own, stupid, twisted way, had helped. Ichigo smiled weakly. "You're an idiot."
"You're welcome."
Ichigo dragged a hand through his spiky hair, sighing. "Captain Kurosaki?" Ichigo looked around and saw Hanatarou standing behind Renji.
"You know you don't have to call me that Hanatarou."
"Right. Sorry…Anyways, I've finished healing Rukia-san's wounds. They were deep, but not life-threatening. She'll be completely back to normal in a couple of days at the most." Ichigo sighed, allowing relief to spread through his body.
"She'll be all right?"
"She'll be perfectly fine. Would you like to see her? I mean, she's asleep, but…"
Ichigo nodded and followed Hanatarou away. Renji stared after the orange-haired man, shaking his head. As much as he hated to admit — and God did he hate to admit it — Ichigo and Rukia made a perfect couple.
Rukia always looked so peaceful when she slept. It was the first thing Ichigo had noticed about her the first time she'd given way to sleep in front of him. Whatever inner turmoil haunted her during waking hours seemed to disappear when she slumbered. She looked so completely at peace with herself. Ichigo wished she could always look that way.
He sighed and sat down in the chair next to her bed. He'd be there when she woke up. Of course.
He sat in silence, never taking his eyes off of Rukia, never sleeping. He'd nearly killed her, after all. The least he could do was be there and be awake when she woke up.
"Captain Kurosaki?"
Ichigo craned his neck to look over his shoulder. Hinamori was standing in the door of the room, watching him with careful eyes. "Momo." He was a bit surprised. "What are you doing here? Where's Toushirou?"
He'd figured the white-haired captain would attach himself to Momo and refuse to let go. "He's speaking to Yamamoto about a theory we have." Momo walked into the room, allowing a light smile to cross her lips. The smile faded as she looked down at Rukia, and she shook her head. "Very prone to getting hurt, isn't she?" Ichigo didn't answer. He looked back at Rukia, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. "I'll bet even she can't identify all the scars she has anymore."
"I know that feeling." Ichigo muttered, imagining his chest. It was a road map of scars — there was really no other way to describe it. The scars criss-crossed over each other, making it almost impossible to identify what was poorly healed skin and what was actually his chest.
"I'll bet you do." Momo admitted, looking at him. "So are you all right?"
"Not a scratch on me." He muttered, feeling sick to his stomach. How as it fair that he had walked away unscathed?
"I don't doubt that. But that's not what I meant." Ichigo shifted his eyes to look at Momo, confused. "Even if Rukia could have hurt you, she wouldn't have had the heart to, not with how guilty she felt. I'm not stupid, I know that. But being okay physically and being okay mentally are two different things." Ichigo scowled. "Don't give me that look, I'm not saying you're going to go crazy again. But that doesn't mean you can't feel guilty — not that you have anything to feel guilty about. I'm just saying…"
"I know what you're saying." Ichigo said as Momo's voice drifted off. "And the answer is that I feel guilty — guilty as hell — looking at her laying there and knowing that — whether it was intentional or not — I'm the reason she's there, the reason she's so messed up. I hate knowing it's my fault. I don't know how Rukia does it, always shouldering the blame and the guilt. It's maddening."
Ichigo bit his tongue then, not wanting to say what was on his mind now. That Rukia always looked so brittle, so close to breaking. But Momo seemed to read his mind.
"That's Rukia-san. She's strange that way. But…when you're around…she seems okay."
Ichigo didn't answer. Momo gave him a small bow before leaving.
"Really Shirou-chan, you didn't have to walk me home." Momo sighed as they turned down her street. Toushirou was almost better than a guard dog — no, he was better. Infinitely.
"I don't like letting you out of my sight." It was a surprising admission. Well, not surprising as in Momo had expected it — she could have guessed that on her own, after all. No, it was just surprising to hear Toushirou actually say it.
"It's okay." She said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."
"I know you're not. I just…don't like not knowing where you are. Not being able to see you." The boy's pale skin was reddening slightly, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Momo smiled, enjoying his embarrassment, and patted his spiky white hair.
"Aw Shirou-chan, I knew you cared." He didn't answer. Momo liked how he didn't even protest her use of his much disliked nickname.
"Momo…" He started to say, but his voice drifted off. Embarrassment was clear in his tone. Momo's smile faded, amusement gone. He was struggling to say something. She wouldn't make it harder for him.
"Shirou-chan?"
They stopped in front of her house. Toushirou's breath came out in a huff. "You're not going to like this…" He muttered after a minute. "But…Yamamoto doesn't want you involved in any future fights. Especially if they involve Aizen."
Momo felt as if the ground had given out from beneath her. "What? But why—"
"It's not just you." Toushirou said quickly. "Kuchiki too, but I'm leaving it up to Ukitake to tell her. It's just that Yamamoto…he knows when it comes to Aizen, you don't always think clearly. And Kuchiki's too close to Kurosaki, who's too close to be sucked back into Aizen's little ring, if the hollow comes out again. He can't pull Kurosaki out of the fight though, he's one of — screw one of, he's the strongest captain we have. You and Kuchiki though…"
Toushirou's voice drifted off. Momo couldn't stop the anger that spread through her body. She'd known she and Rukia wouldn't get off scot-free, of course, but pulling them off the battlefield?
"So what are we supposed to do, sit on our hands while our friends and the people we love go out and die?"
The word slipped out by accident. Love. Momo heard it the second she was done speaking. Her eyes widened, mortified, and she took a step back, ducking her face as it burned red.
"I have to go." She muttered, turning on her heel and preparing to run for her house. But Toushirou grabbed her hand, holding her back.
"It's Yamamoto's orders, not mine. Don't be mad at me." His voice seemed to be pleading.
"I'm not. Forget it Toushirou." Momo tried to pull her hand back. Toushirou held on tight.
"Don't call me that." He ordered. "It doesn't sound right, coming from you."
"What, you like Shirou-chan?" Momo demanded, wishing he'd let go. She wanted to just go inside and go to her room and bury her face in her pillow, forget this entire day. "You've been telling me for years to stop calling you that."
"And since when do you listen to me?" He challenged. She sighed, excepting defeat, and stopped fighting his hand. They stood silently for a minute. "No one's going to die." Toushirou finally said, his voice low. "I won't let anyone die."
Momo bit her lip. It was selfish, so selfish, to think that she didn't care about anyone as much as she did him. "You can't promise that." She said quietly, her voice thick with tears. "You can't promise…you won't die."
"I can." Toushirou disagreed fiercely. "I won't die, Momo. I'm going to fight, I'm going to make sure that…that bastard is killed, I'm going to see to it that you're freed from his shadow, and that no one can ever doubt you again. And then I'm going to—"
Too much, too much, too much! A voice in the back of Toushirou's head screamed, stopping him cold. Are you trying to dig yourself a hole deep enough to jump into? Just shut up!
Momo turned halfway to look at Toushirou, and their eyes met. "I'm going to come back here." He continued finally, his voice low. "I'm going to come right back to you. And I'm going to be with you. Whether you want me or not. I'll be here — right here."
Momo felt as if her throat had closed up. It took her a minute to remember how to speak. "I want you." She whispered finally, knowing she wouldn't be able to speak any louder. Toushirou carefully pulled her towards him, until their was almost no space left between them. He leaned in, carefully brushing his lips over hers.
"That's the only answer I would have accepted."
Author's Note: God…damn…too…much…fluff… /goes and buries herself in a hole/ Wait, haven't I already done that? I don't even know…just review, please? — Sam