a/n: dedicated to Keira14; and thank you for inspiring me to write something that fit saviors to death (indirectly as it is) :)
She's not entirely here, he notes, sitting by her side on a stool. He stares into her empty orbs and wonders if she's actually dead and just pretending to be here.
He catches her eyes and is caught by how nonchalant she is despite having just gone through a massacre.
He debates on whether he should speak now and inform her about the aftermath -and who and why he did all of that that she'd probably consider bullshit- as a brother should.
or, he could say nothing.
(but a Kuchiki isn't a coward, especially the head of the Kuchiki, so really he has to-)
.
.
In the end, he says nothing.
.
.
One week later, she looks at him dead in the eye. He moves back, slightly. She doesn't say a word, but her eyes say it all.
(she knows.)
He remains stoic, and wonders if she can hear his heart pounding furiously- and if she does, he doubts she'll care.
She opens her mouth, fuck. off.
(he takes it as a sign, that she is feeling again, that she can live again-
-except first, he'd have to accept the hatred aimed at him.)
.
.
.
He's wrong.
It's only a week, and she's getting skinnier and her face is sinking inwards and the color of her pupils are withering away.
Still, she stares wide-eyed at him, those gaping eyes that never seem to blink when they peer into him and see the coward behind him.
(veryveryveryvery wrong-)
He slams the door behind him and walks off.
.
.
.
Another week later, and he watches her scream in agony, silently, and bears the clawing hands on his face and chest and- the nurses rush to the scene and hold her back down and shoot a tranquilizer down her arm.
He stares at the twisted, sleeping look on his sister's face.
She's thinned out that he can almost see the bones; he muses, she might as well be dead.
He wonders, if assassinating her husband was worth saving the Kuchiki clan's pride, his parent's pride, his pride-
(-that that foul, disgusting, lowly peasant-gangster could make her smile brighter than anything a prestigious man like himself had and could offer.
other assassins shoot by-passers, and as for him, he points the gun at him, and only him-
-and pulls the trigger.)
.
.
(he didn't miss.
he certainly didn't miss seeing the horror on his sister's face and the screaming, the insanity, the ambulance-
-he saw everything.)
But, he missed seeing the boy at the hospital, missed his death, missed his funeral- not that he'd know if there even was one.
.
.
no, is his answer a month later.
no, becomes the forefront of his mind when he walks into the hospital and the doctor stands up and leads him to her room. he stills just right outside of the door and the doctor beckons him in with a grim look, he steels himself and walks in-
-her face is covered in that white sheet with the incense placed beside her.
(he recognizes this scene all too well.)
And for the second time in his life-
-he is screaming.
(i should've told her, i should've told her, i should've told her)
.
.
He doesn't go to her funeral.
None of the Kuchiki do.
All of them whisper and gossip among themselves that she is a disgrace to them to the very end and, thank goodness she died soon enough to not bring any more disgrace to their name and, and, every word is rambling inside his brain and it's all words that jumble up and scream in his ear.
(but the one thing that clears out all of that is the smile she'd had on her face for the first time in a long time.)
He looks out the garden and drinks sake for the second time in his life.
.
.
Something flashes by across the garden and out of his sight and into the Kuchiki manor, he notes.
He drinks his sake.
Muffled screams, slashes across the neck, the tearing of the bamboo doors, light footsteps, heavy footsteps- he hears them all.
He drinks his sake.
He looks up to the sky and notes that the moon is shining down on him, giving him a luminous glow-
-a perfect target.
He watches his cup fly across the garden and spill its remnants into the pond beyond. He watches the blood drip down his clothes to the ground as the bloodied blade keeps pushing through his chest. He looks up and notes the moon again. He looks behind him-
-ah.
.
.
(he never had to say anything.)
.
.
-fin-
a/n: and also, thank you guest 2 :)