A/N: I'm back once again my lovelies! And you thought the last chapter was indeed the last one huh? There's actually another chapter (or 2, depending on my mood and my over-all laziness) for this story. Thank you so much for the responses you guys took the time to write. You guys are such ego-boosters! Thank you's to: Bonnenuit, Ichkak, Evanescanceangel18, DarkBombayAngel, Carabel, A Scribble-chan, Leila-blue. (if I forgot anyone, sorry, let me make it up to you!)
Anyway, without further ado, here it is. (Sorry it is rather short.)Remember, tell what you think. Flames are also welcome.
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Chapter 12
Loss
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In a public cemetery in Karakura
June 28th, 10:24am
The rain was pouring when his sister Masaki was killed. And it seemed heaven was mourning along with him, because the rain was once again pouring as they lay Ichigo's body to rest beside his parents and twin sisters. He was just nine days shy of his 21st birthday.
For once Kisuke Urahara was not wearing his trademark green and white striped hat. The smirk that was usually present on his lips was gone. An unfathomable ache rested in his heart, his beloved Ichigo was gone. But there were no tears in his eyes, only a burning anger.
He was surrounded by everyone he deemed important in what he considered his colorful life. There was his lover Renji, wearing a somber expression, holding his hand in support. His childhood friend Yoruichi was also there, along with her lover Soi Fon. As usual, the stoic Tessai stood behind him, even young Ururu. But the most important pieces of his heart now lay six feet under. First, Masaki. Now, Ichigo.
Kyouraku Shunsui was also there. He had forgone his usually flamboyant clothes in exchange for the somber tones of his black coat and navy blue turtleneck. Regret and sadness were etched on his face.
"Urahara-san, I'm—"
The blond man immediately cut him off. "Your apologies would not even suffice, Kyouraku-san, so do not even think of starting." Urahara turned his back then walked away, leaving the man behind him. The rest of the motley crew followed, leaving Kyouraku to pay his last respects to the late Ichigo.
Stark could only watch as Ichigo's casket was lowered into the earth, leaving an unpleasant tightening of his chest. He could only watch the proceedings from across the street, underneath the relative shelter of a gnarled willow tree. There was a minute urge to cry, which he was quick to suppress, but it left a rather bitter in his mouth. He wondered if he could ever go back to the way he was after Ichigo.
Somewhere in the Shibuya district
July 3rd, 1:47 am
The past few days were a blur to Stark. He could barely remember everything that happened, save for that night. He thought that no one could ever break his heart, but then Ichigo came, and it wasn't even his fault. He would never be the same.
He was driving his way home, and he noted with some derision that even late at night, the streets of the Shibuya district were still full of its young people, taking everything for granted. If they only knew what went on around them, they would scurry away in fear and shame.
His reverie was broken when he had to abruptly hit the brakes when someone courageously stood in front of his car. The person might either be really stupid or he had a raging death wish. He immediately alighted from his car to give him a piece of his mind. He wanted to yell at him, but his voice got stuck on his throat when he recognized the hat.
Urahara tipped his hat in greeting, then pulled a gun from a pocket in his coat and aimed straight at Stark's chest.
It seemed that everything went in slow motion in Stark's mind… from the moment he saw the blond man's god awful smile, to the moment he aimed the gun at him then to the moment the bullet hit his chest. It was as if everyone's voices were turned down, and he felt numb when he expected extreme pain where the bullet hit him. It was as if he was watching the scenes that unfolded from somewhere above him, and at such a great distance.
The blond man calmly whistled a tune as he walked away from the scene, and as quietly as possible. It was as if nothing happened really, nothing at all.
The last thing Stark ever saw was a small view of the starry nighttime sky, as he was surrounded by faceless people trying in vain to save him from the inevitable.
