False God
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Deathly silence falls over the throne room and its occupants. For a while there is only the sound of Yhwach's fingers drumming incessantly on the arms of the throne, echoing in the room. The rhythmic tapping mimics the collective heartbeat of the crowd gathered, nervous and jittery, growing unbearably louder as the minutes drag on into hours and an eternity passes them by as they keep their heads bowed, arms rigidly kept at their sides, eyes downcast.
Tension is rife in the air, so sickeningly thick that it verges on stifling, but Yhwach does nothing to dispel it as he is seated upon his throne of gloom, his chin resting on his open palm. Lips twisted into a distinct frown, he says nothing while wine-red eyes sweep across the room dispassionately; missing nothing as he stares at the many faces gathered before him in the room.
The Schutzstaffel and the Sternritters gathered know better than to hold his gaze. The All Father's authority is absolute and they wouldn't dream of challenging it. They keep their eyes looking straight ahead, their bodies tense, scarcely even daring to breathe for fear of drawing The All Father's attention.
The future of the Wandenreich; the Empire's finest and most loyal—
Yhwach sneers, his gaze dropping to the man kneeling before him, head bent so low that his forehead rests on the cool marble floor.
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"You were ambushed."
Yhwach's voice is as cold as ice, sending a chill down his spine, but to his credit, Ichigo does not flinch. He keeps his head bent low, both palms laid flat against the marble floor. His knees are skinned and scraped, staining the white marble floor beneath him red.
The wounds littered over his body are fresh, some cuts deeper than others. His uniform that was once white and pristine is now smudged with dust and blood, ripped and tattered over certain spots. There is a particularly large gash across his chest- still fresh and oozing blood, but he grits his teeth and bears the pain, chewing on the inside of his cheek until the coppery tang of iron fills his mouth, refusing to give any indication that the wound bothers him.
Yhwach is watching. He will only make things worse for himself if he let slip any measure of weakness or pain.
A sinner has no right to clemency and The All Father has little compassion to spare for those who have failed him.
The All Father's love needs to be earned, but His wrath falls unfailingly upon those who lack faith and conviction, both in Him and the Wandenreich. Those who have shamed him with their failure disappoint Him and surely there can be no greater slight to a living God, who has lovingly cared for them and given them sanctuary at their time of need.
"They were expecting us. Hollows- Adjuchas and Gillians, two Arrancars and a Shinigami Captain. They came swarming as soon as we fell through the sinkhole and entered the Menos Forest. I was the target. Äs Nödt gave up his life to make sure that their plan would not succeed."
Half-truths like that roll off his tongue easier than most lies. The Arrancars' arrival was planned, arranged by the Shinigamis to collect Byakuya regardless of how the talk of alliance went. The Hollows though, were altogether unexpected as they crashed onto the scene- drawn by the combined burst of reiatsu released, possibly hoping to make an easy meal out of the two while they were busy fighting each other.
Byakuya and him eyed the sudden appearance of Hollows with displeasure as their fight was cut short. A look of mutual understanding passed as they called truce, quickly dispatching the Hollows and leaving their severed bodies next to Äs Nödt's hulking corpse.
Ichigo winces at the pain on his chest, worsening every time he takes a deep breath. Rukia's brother is a worthy opponent and gave as good as he got. The Shinigami held his own against Ichigo- for the first few rounds at least. He can respect that, but it wasn't enough.
Wary of having nothing to show for his wounds, Ichigo allowed the Arrancars who came later to join in the fight, much to Byakuya's chagrin. The extensive nature of his injuries is evidence enough of the brutality involved during the fight. It was three on one, and none of them held back. It remains to be seen if it is a decision that Ichigo will find himself regretting as his left arm hangs limp and useless by his side, broken from the fight.
Yhwach's frown deepens. "So you let Äs Nödt take the hit for you, leaving him to die alone in the midst of battle? Because you were outnumbered?"
"No!" Ichigo raises his voice. "I kept fighting even after Äs Nödt has fallen. I did not let his sacrifice go in vain. I held the enemies off and stood my ground. I would rather die on my feet than cower before them! The men stationed at Las Noches can vouch for me. They will tell you that I fought admirably, that I carry my Quincy cross with pride."
The Sternritters stationed at Las Noches will vouch for him if pushed. They did indeed bear witness to the carnage at the scene- limbs littered about carelessly, splats of bodily fluids puddling at their feet, converging into pools of ooze and filth. The unpredictability of the desert surrounding worked against the Sternritters, delaying their arrival but they came as soon as they recognized the burst of reiatsu coming from Ichigo as he crossed blades with the Shinigami.
They saw Äs Nödt's body, the dead Hollows; saw Ichigo fighting against the two Arrancars and a black-haired Shinigami. There is no reason to doubt.
Ichigo is telling the truth- at least as far as those men are concerned.
Yhwach brings his fist down on the arms of the throne, making the Sternritters jump and resolve to keep their gaze pinned steadfastly to the floor beneath their feet.
"You are the Crown Prince of Wandenreich! Are you so weak that you would fall to such feeble and insignificant enemy forces? I taught you better than this!"
Ichigo grits his teeth, saying nothing. Nothing he says will make his situation change for the better. Yhwach couldn't care less about Äs Nödt's death. The death of a Sternritter is inconsequential in the grand scheme of things and hardly something that Yhwach would lose his composure over.
Ichigo knows full well of the crime that has warranted Yhwach's wrath and displeasure. He made The All Father lose face before the Shinigamis, made the Wandenreich appear weak when the Empire is meant to be infallible and invincible.
The only right thing to do would have been for Ichigo to appear before the Wandenreich Court, uniform pristine and completely unscathed with Äs Nödt in tow, the heads of his assassins lined up in a neat row, presented on a silver platter and ready for inspection; showing the three realms once and for all, that the Quincy race stand at the top of the food chain, closest in bloodline to the perfection that is the Soul King as they follow Yhwach on His Path of Light.
Yhwach's expectations must always be met. Any action that deviates from Yhwach's expectations would have been an act of renegade and disgrace. Ichigo brought shame to the Wandenreich and Yhwach. For that, he must be dealt with and made an example of. No matter how high his rank is within the Wandenreich hierarchy, how close he is in the line of succession, Yhwach would not let the slight go unpunished.
Ichigo's fists clench, his nails biting into the meat of his palm, readying himself for the battering that follows. The strength of his conviction, his resolve to keep Rukia safe- Yhwach is welcome to test himself against it.
He won't fold though.
Yhwach leans back against the throne as he stews in silence, saying nothing while he stares at Ichigo who is still kneeling before him. Ichigo gulps, feeling the weight of Yhwach's heavy stare sinking down on him, wary and judging.
The tyrant is not pleased with news of his failure.
Ichigo plays his part well. He throws himself at Yhwach's feet- a show of submission and deference to Yhwach's authority, upon his return to Silbern, delivering the news of Äs Nödt's death in person and the enemies' escape. The wounds on his body and his subservient gestures give Yhwach no reason to question his loyalty. Yhwach has little tolerance for failure and the punishments that awaits those that he deemed lacking are nothing short of demeaning, but if a few broken bones and humiliation on his part would distract Yhwach from his deception and plans for usurpation, then Ichigo would willingly chance the Living God's wrath and swallow his pride.
"The Shinigami killed him in front of me. I couldn't get to Äs Nödt in time. I—"
Yhwach makes his move, cutting Ichigo off rudely as he reaches out and jerks Ichigo's face upwards. Ichigo hisses as Yhwach's fingers squeeze at his cheeks, blunt nails digging in painfully as he forces Ichigo to tilt his head up.
Ichigo stares into Yhwach's wine-red eyes. He is staring into an abyss, plunged headfirst into the darkness. The abyss stares back. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. Those eyes are stone cold. Yhwach is incapable of mercy.
Ichigo holds the gaze, staring back resolutely despite the temptation to look away. Yhwach would have taken any hint of reluctance on his part as a sign of subterfuge and a plea of guilty as charged.
Ichigo cannot back down.
There is too much at stake here. So much of the future- his future with Rukia, the future of the Shinigamis and Soul Society, hinges on Yhwach accepting and believing his 'truth'. He cannot fail.
"The Shinigami who struck Äs Nödt down- the Captain—" Yhwach's grip on his cheeks tightens— "name him."
Ichigo growls. "Kuchiki Byakuya. I fought against him and wounded him but he got away- aided by the Arrancars before I could finish him off."
Yhwach's disgust is marked in the tone of his voice and his icy glares. "And you simply stood by and let them?"
"They opened up a Garganta. I didn't think it wise to enter, not knowing what lies beyond it—"
"Excuses!"
Yhwach's anger flares. He releases his grip on Ichigo's face abruptly, causing the younger man to stumble backwards at the sudden loss of balance. Before he can heave a sigh of relief, Ichigo finds himself struggling for air, his feet lifted off the ground.
A hand is wrapped around his throat, squeezing it painfully. Yhwach's face looms close and he sneers at the look of panic that flashes unguarded in Ichigo's eyes, at the instinctive way he claws at the hand at his throat with his good arm before the arm falls back to his side.
Even as Ichigo's face threatens to turn blue from the lack of oxygen, his legs kicking out while he struggles to breathe, his arms never shift from his sides. An air of defeat lingers and in his eyes, Yhwach sees a resignation to his fate. It is a recognition of true power, the inert acceptance of his role as a follower and Yhwach as the hand that feeds.
Resistance is futile. To disobey him would be unthinkable.
Yhwach smirks. It is what all Sternritters are indoctrinated to know and follow. Crown Prince or not, Ichigo knows better than to challenge his authority and to bite the hand that feeds.
What a good little soldier!
The crowd gathered looks on in trepidation and silence, but no one speaks up for Ichigo. Ichigo can feel his vision blotting out at the corners. His fists are clenched so tightly that the crescent-mark indents made on his palm have started bleeding. The pain keeps him sane, reminding him that there is much to be done still.
He cannot give up.
He cannot let it end like this.
In his mind's eye, he sees Yhwach's arrogant smirk, looking down at him and derisively scorning at his presence, as though to say that he should know his place. Ichigo has heard and seen it enough growing up, his mind flashing to the earliest memories he had of living within the walls of Silbern.
His mother, Uryu and him are outsiders to the city. Even when Yhwach had accepted their presence and granted them sanctuary, the citizens of Silbern made no qualms of hiding their disdain for him and Ishida. The whispers that stop when they walk past, the sardonic smirks they give when they think no one is looking- they were there to make him feel small and unwelcomed.
Uryu may hide it better, but Ichigo knows that his cousin will never forget, just as he will never forgive. To Silbern, all that a Gemischt Quincy is fit to do is to grovel like an animal at a pure-blooded Quincy's feet.
Ichigo remembers attending his first lesson together with his cousin, being surrounded by a gaggle of children- mean-looking and utterly terrifying to him as a child. The two of them were barely older than ten and the other kids on the training ground were bigger and stronger; clearly more advanced, experienced and way ahead of them in every lesson. There must have been thirty of them in a class- all boys, unruly and loud, in varying ages from 10 to 13. He and Uryu were the smallest and youngest, the latest addition to the class and easy pickings for the group.
Their instructor was ancient and gaunt, boasting a head full of white hair that grew past his waist and a beard equally as long. He was a stern-looking man with hands so thin and nails so long that they resembled claws. Ichigo had long since forgotten his name, but never his deeds. The man turned a blind eye to the beatings that happened under the guise of training, the blows that kept coming even when the two are clearly incapacitated. Under his rule, everything goes as long as there were no visible marks left and no one loses an eye.
Uryu got off lighter than he did, taking to the Quincy techniques like a fish to water. As miserable as he was, the old sod respected and recognized raw talent. The other children knew what it meant when the instructor started praising Uryu, giving them stern glares when he saw them picking on the other boy. Uryu was now off limits, but Ichigo wasn't, so he had the fortune of having their jealousy and hate of his cousin, directed at him as well.
It wasn't Uryu's fault. His cousin valiantly tried to put a stop to it, openly sticking up for him and slapping away the hand of the leader of the bullies when the latter extended to him an offer of friendship, but to no avail.
Nothing changed.
Training was hell and Ichigo loathed every second of it. Sternritters, even when they are in training and barely fledglings, have never needed a reason to be cruel. When he finally had enough and told his mother of the bullying, showing her the bruises on his body, Masaki was livid and confronted the instructor about the bullying. The man was unapologetic at the slightest. He had shrugged, a lackadaisical fold to his arms as he sighs.
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"Boys will be boys. What can I do about it?"
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Masaki stormed off with him and Uryu in tow. His mother is a lioness and where her cubs are concerned, she will fight, clawing at her enemies with bare hands and teeth if she had to. Ichigo growls, remembering the clear imprint of a hand on his mother's face that afternoon. Masaki's face was swollen and her knuckles were bruised by the end of her 'talk'. The bully's mother had openly sneered and called him a bastard, unwanted by his father and begotten by a whore of a mother.
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"Go! Leave Silbern! You and your half-breed ilk shouldn't even be here! If you had any shred of decency and love for The All Father left within you, you would have left the half-breed hell spawns in that world with their own kind and returned alone!"
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That was the final straw for Masaki and his mother did not hold back, unleashing her full wrath upon the poor woman, her outburst so unexpected that it even scared Ichigo.
Masaki won of course. His mother is a Kurosaki through and through. She left with her head held high, gripping tightly on to his wrist in one hand and the other, on Uryu as they walked away triumphant. With their backs turned, Ichigo could still hear the shrill crying behind them. The angry mother's words ringing behind him so viciously that his ears burned.
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"Silbern takes care of her own! You and your hell spawns do not belong here and Silbern will see to it that the weak are pruned off! The All Father will hear of this! He sees all and knows all, mark my words!"
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Nothing changed.
The whispers never stopped, nor did the snide looks and jeers. They left the bully's mother with a black eye and her hair nearly pulled off her scalp, but it echoed of a hollow victory and the taste of blood never left Ichigo's mouth.
The instructor remained nameless and formless in the background, like a shadow lingering, felt and seen but never heard save the sharp admonishments he made as he corrected their forms. Ichigo was forever lagging behind as the class went over their attack forms and practiced their techniques. He was forgotten in the corner as the old man has long since given up on him.
Even after weeks and months of practice, Ichigo was no closer to sensing and manipulating the reishi in the air than he was when he first arrived. He could not form his own bow and that failure branded him a lost cause in the eyes of the Wandenreich. Resources are limited after all, and the instructor's time and attention should not be wasted on someone like him.
The bullies' attacks grew more vicious when no one is looking and located on areas well hidden under clothing. Ichigo remembered the fear- the fear of being left behind, of being isolated and cast aside for being defective, for being different.
Anxiety and unease gnawed at him, his insecurities manifesting as night terrors and his muted suffering at the hands of his bullies leave him withdrawn and surly. He could not take it anymore. One day, he broke down in front of Masaki, breaking the only promise his mother had ever made him swear.
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"I want to go home!"
"Ichigo—"
"I hate it here! I want to go home!"
Masaki looks up from the pile of dirty dishes sitting in the sink. She barely has time to turn off the tap, whirling in surprise as her son hugged her from behind. His eyes are welled up with tears and he sniffs miserably, wiping the tear stains and snot with the back of his hands.
"I want to go home!" He says again, louder and angrier this time. Tears are streaking down the curve of his cheek. He never thought he would say this but, he choked, "I want Dad—"
"Ichigo!"
Masaki drops the plate that she is holding onto. The porcelain drops to the sink with a loud clatter and the noise makes Ichigo jump. His eyes widen, tasting the bitterness of soap suds lingering on Masaki's hand as she immediately clamps a hand over his mouth, her eyes wide with terror as she glances nervously at their surroundings. The hand clamped on Ichigo eventually drops back to her side when Masaki becomes convinced that there are no eavesdropping neighbours in the vicinity.
Her voice is sharp and her grip a little painful as she crouches to his eye-level, grabbing him by his elbows. Ichigo clenches his fists, horrified at himself. He knew he made a mistake the minute the words left his mouth. He chews at his bottom lip, his eye downcast and head lowered in shame.
"Shh—" Masaki coos softly at her son, gently wiping away the streaks of tear with the pad of her thumb— "Hey, it's ok. I am not mad. I promise. I am not mad. I just need you to look at me. Please, Ichigo, look at me."
Ichigo raises his head reluctantly. His eyes flit to his mother's face, guilt welting when he sees the lines of worry dotting her face and the fear in her eyes. Her deep frown and furrowed eyebrows make his heart twinge. He messed up. He didn't mean to make her sad.
Talking about his father, their lives before they were uprooted from the Living World to come to this frozen tundra makes her sad. He chides himself for being selfish, for being a brat. How could he add on to his mother's load of worries when he sees her strained smiles and vacant stares?
He is not the only one who is suffering. He thinks about Uryu- his cousin who's sleeping upstairs right now. At least he still has Masaki, Uryu has no one. Yet, he never complained, never cried about missing home and his parents; not even his grandfather, whom Ichigo is sure that the other boy misses terribly.
A wave of shame hits him. Compared to Uryu, he cannot believe what a cry baby he is.
"...Sor-Sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"I know you didn't," Masaki whispers, sighing as she wraps her hands around him, hugging him tightly to her chest. "I know you didn't mean to. But you know why we can't. You promised Daddy, didn't you? That you'd protect me when he's not here."
Ichigo nods. It is in his name- to protect. His father told him that, grabbed his hand and guided the brush strokes that made up the kanji character for his name as the black ink landed on white parchment. He made a promise. A big boy like him- the man of the household should always keep his promises. He buries his face in his mother's embrace, saying nothing more as Masaki slides her fingers through his fine hair, a hand patting at his back reassuringly.
"We can't go back, Ichigo. Daddy's not there anymore. Silbern is our home now."
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His mother is good to him- the best mother that he could ever dream of, but Ichigo never mentions another word of training, of his life beyond the walls of their home again. He makes a pact with Ishida that they would watch each other's back. He learned how to fake smiles, to play down his injuries, to pretend that the pain isn't there, to never let the others see his tears.
He kept his word. He never made his mother worry again.
In Silbern, being weak is a sin, so Ichigo vowed to grow stronger, faster; desperately clawing his way out of a hell hole only to find himself in a deeper and shittier pit. His story is one without a reprieve in sight. Days blur together to form seasons and years that he barely notices, sold on the lies of a false god who strings him along with promises of belonging and camaraderie, until finally—
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Yhwach throws him away like ragdoll, smirk widening when he hears a loud painful gasp, followed by a harsh coughing fit.
It would take a lot more than this to kill the Crown Prince of the Wandenreich. Ichigo would not let him down so easily.
Ichigo gasps sharply. His body reacts before his brain does. Fresh air fills his lungs and he stares blankly at the dome of the throne room, eyes wide open but vacant, his brain struggling to make sense of his reality.
There is a ringing in his head- a deep hum just before his vision settles and he recognizes colours and shapes. The ceiling is the same shade of white that he remembers, the same shade of white that inhabitants of Silbern don upon themselves, wearing it with pride as they smile and call it their colour, bestowed upon them by The All Father. They have His favour and live in the light.
The colour of purity and elegance—
Ichigo would sneer if he could. The itch for destruction has never burned stronger. He has never wanted to desecrate it more, leaving it bloody, idly wondering who and what angle Zangetsu would need to cut and plunge to have blood spurting so high.
Ichigo blinks. He felt the sickening crunch, the burst of stars in his vision when his back hit the marble wall earlier, idly wondering if Yhwach had broken his collar bone or maybe some parts of his spine had snapped from the impact. The noise his bloodied body makes as it slides off the wall, leaving him a crumpled heap on the floor, sounds so impossibly far away and surreal.
It is wishful thinking of course. Time stops for no one. Soon, Ichigo feels himself being forcibly slammed back into his broken shell of a body.
Blood spurts from his lips and he doesn't hold back the groans. His throat burns, feeling raw and his voice is unbearably hoarse as he tries to form words but ultimately failing, unable to concentrate and focus on anything beyond the pain wrecking through his system. His wounds from his fight have reopened.
Everything hurts. Experience tells him it is a good thing, that is how he knows that he is still alive.
He weakly moves his head towards the direction of the sound as he hears Yhwach's approaching footsteps, his gaze trailing upwards. The fear that grips him is visceral, but he is too worn to even croak.
He gulps, keeping his eyes steady on the target. He is not out of the woods yet. Yhwach wants his pound of flesh and he will not be satisfied until he has it within his grasp.
"You disappoint me, Ichigo. You have grown too soft," Yhwach spits out the word like it is poison most vile. He turns his back on him, dark cape fluttering as he resumes the throne.
Yhwach looks to the dark-haired man dutifully kneeling by his left, the cruel gleam in his eyes flashing. Uryu's position in Court has always been a step below Ichigo. Ichigo is the brasher of the two- wilder, stronger, louder; unapologetically arrogant with his powers and near-infinite well of reiatsu.
Yet today, the spare stands before him, dignified and poised, while the heir lies disgraced and dishonoured for all to see. Today, it is his star that shines as he assumes the position that his cousin and brother-in-arms used to stand, moving one step closer to Yhwach and the throne.
Yhwach grins. There is more than one Prince in the Wandenreich. Perhaps it is time for Ichigo to be reminded of that. Ichigo is undoubtedly his favourite, a monster unhinged enough that Yhwach is the only one who would ever dream of leashing him, but his streak of independence has gotten a little out of hand. He is straining against his leash and Yhwach is getting tired of his brutish displays.
His little 'tantrums' are getting tedious. Yhwach has no use for a disobedient pet, just as Wandenreich has no use for a weakling.
No one within Wandenreich is truly irreplaceable, except Yhwach. Despite feeling Yhwach's eyes on him, Uryu's face betrays nothing, eyes trained on a single point of fixture on the floor, behaving impossibly calm, as though he had not just witnessed Ichigo being thrown against the wall.
"Uryu," Yhwach calls out. He leans back with a smile, his back hitting the sturdiness of the high back throne.
"Yes, All Father?"
"Remove him from my sight."
Yhwach sneers, turning to Ichigo who lies flat on his back, his eyes trained on the ceiling. The Wandenreich has no use for failures. Ichigo's continued presence within his vicinity only brings him shame.
"You disappoint us, Ichigo. We shall discuss your punishment later."
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Rukia wakes up with a start. The loud knocking only registers after she senses the burst of familiar reiatsu outside. It is Ichigo, but there is someone else with him- someone whose reiatsu she doesn't recognize.
She scrambles out of bed. The urgent knocking aside, something pulls at her, screaming at her that something is wrong. Ichigo doesn't need to knock to enter his own apartment and he has never brought guests over aside from Masaki.
From behind the door, she feels Ichigo's reiatsu flicker; alarm bells blaring in her head when she notices how faint and weak it is. She hastens her pace, running as she crosses the distance between the bedroom to the door, wrenching it open.
"Ichigo!"
Her blood runs cold at the sight of Ichigo bruised and battered, barely able to stand on his own. She stands in front of him, body frozen, her mind drawing a blank as she stares at the cuts and bruises on his face. She forgets how to breathe, taking in the extent of the injuries on Ichigo's body with muted horror when she finally convinces himself to look past the injuries on his face.
Rukia blinks, her vision clearing. She hadn't realized that she was crying until she felt something wet sliding down her cheeks. This is the worst that Rukia has ever seen of him. He is barely conscious, his arm draped over the broad shoulders of a tall, dark-haired man wearing the nondescript Sternritter uniform, cloak intact. Sensing her gaze, the man politely inclines his head in her direction as greeting.
The contrast between them is stark and obvious as the two men stand side by side. Ichigo's cloak is in tatters, the bottom part ripped apart forcefully. The white Sternritter uniform with the gleaming golden brass buttons is ripped and ruined with blood stains and smudges of dirt. Rukia's eyes stare transfixed at the deep gash on the centre of his chest. The wound is still fresh and the blood still dripping sluggishly downwards from the cut. Her eyebrows furrow as she keeps her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides, resisting the urge to touch.
The image of Ichigo in front of her overlaps with the bloodied man who appeared in her nightmare. All at once, Rukia realizes that it is not fear or disgust that floods her veins. It is instead, anger- white hot, scalding and molten on Ichigo's behalf.
She snorts, chiding herself. She is the absolute worst. For all that she preaches about keeping her distance from Ichigo, she can't. She can't help but ache when she sees him in pain. She feels his pain, his hurt; wishes she could take them in his stead. Ichigo must be in such agony and pain.
She is shaking with barely contained anger when she reaches out for him, her fingers lacing his and gripping onto his hand tightly. Her voice quivers under the strain of her overwhelming emotions. She sobs, letting the noise escape her when Ichigo does not return her grip. He can't, she realizes.
His arm is broken.
If she had a sword, if Shirayuki was in her grip—
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"Who did this to you?"
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At the sound of her voice, Ichigo blearily opens his eyes. His head is swimming. The lights are too bright. His reiatsu fans out, coiling itself around hers greedily, like a drowning man grasping onto a lifeline cast. In a spinning room with dancing shadows, her presence grounds him and his gaze drops to the sight of their linked hands; the image sharpening as he wills himself to breathe normally.
His lips curve into a smile despite his injuries. He sees Rukia's hand wrapped around his. Her hands are easily dwarfed by his and though he can't feel it. The sight of it is enough for now.
"R-Rukia," he rasps, forcing himself to raise his head, eager to see her again.
He only wants her.
Rukia stands in front of him, clad in the same night gown that he left her in, looking at him with concern and worry. She has been waiting for him all this while, he thinks; waiting for him to come home to her. It takes him a full minute to notice the wet corners of her eyes and the glistening tears. Ichigo's smile wanes. He didn't mean to make her cry, not like this anyway.
He wants to reach out and wipe her tears away, but he sets his foot down wrong at the first step that he takes, pulling on the injuries of his leg and his knee buckles. He loses his balance, falling face-first. Rukia calls out his name in alarm, seeing him falter and rushing to help.
Uryu's intervention is quicker. Already acting as his crutch, he pulls Ichigo back, keeping him upright with a hand on Ichigo's arm to keep it draped over his shoulders and the other by his side.
The dark-haired man shakes his head, giving a long-suffering sigh before pushing at the glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. He rolls his eyes, unimpressed. His cousin is utterly useless and literally a dead weight pulling him down at the moment. Knowing Ichigo, he shouldn't even be surprised. Even in his moment of vulnerability, Ichigo is still very much a handful.
He turns to Rukia instead, hoisting Ichigo up straighter and adjusting his grip on him. "I think we should bring this inside before he passes out completely."
Ichigo mumbles incoherently at that, but neither Rukia nor Uryu can make out the words. An agreement is reached in the span of seconds as their eyes meet.
Rukia lets out a shaky breath, wringing her hands and clasping them tightly together as she lets go of Ichigo's hand. There is no time to lose. She will not allow herself to hold Ichigo back. She will not allow herself to be his weakness.
Even here, even now; she will protect him in any way that she can.
She nods solemnly at Uryu as she moves aside to let them pass through the door and guides him towards the bedroom. She remembers seeing Ichigo's cousin on the night of the disastrous ball. Ichigo introduced him as Ishida- his cousin on his mother's side. The gaze that she directs at Uryu from behind is more curious than suspicious. Despite the lack of familial resemblance, this man is related to Masaki. Ichigo seems to trust him, leaning his full weight on him and using him as a crutch.
She has no other choice but to trust him for now. Allies are after all, hard to come by behind enemy lines and Rukia trusts what instincts are pulling at her to do.
Ever the practical man, Uryu instructs Rukia to lay out another layer of bedsheet on the bed before setting Ichigo down on it. Up close, his injuries are more severe than expected and he is barely able to lay flat on his back with his laboured breathing. Rukia props him up, piling pillows under his head.
Seeing him settled, Uryu immediately turns to the door, ready to leave, but Rukia's hand immediately shoots up, grabbing him by the wrist. Ichigo's injuries are extensive and beyond her. He needs to be taken to the infirmary.
"Ichigo is— You can't just leave him here! He needs to be seen by someone! He needs a doctor- a healer!"
Uryu shakes his head, his voice cold as he chides at her naivety. He sneers. Ichigo has been too kind to her, too protective and far too willing to cover her eyes to the unpleasantness of reality. Hasn't she learned anything yet in all her weeks of living within Silbern?
"He's as good as dead if he is left there. He's a sitting duck right now. Anyone can slip in and finish him off in this state!"
Rukia flinches at the tone, gritting her teeth. He is right of course. She is a captive here, unable to even leave the confines of the apartment without scrutiny from the rest of Silbern. Masaki is not a Sternritter. She has no place within the Wandenreich hierarchy beyond her identity as the Crown Prince's mother. Ichigo would not want her involved in this and Rukia knows full well from experience that the Sternritters do not need a reason to be cruel, to go after innocent victims simply because it suits them to. To hurt Ichigo, there is no telling how low they are willing to stoop.
As for Uryu, Rukia has not even considered him. Ichigo trusts him, she thinks; but perhaps not enough and for a good reason, she thinks darkly. Self-preservation marks him. He seems to be in hurry to leave when he has only just seen Ichigo back. If he wants to go, Rukia will not make him stay, but not until she gets her answers.
Rukia doesn't back down. She has too much Rukongai blood in her to be a proper damsel-in-distress even in situations like this. When Uryu begins to move towards the door, ignoring her, she doesn't whimper or beg for a chance at a second glance.
Adrenaline surges through her and she jerks him back forcefully, glaring daggers and nearly snarling as she tightens her grip on his wrist.
"We're not done here," she hisses, pooling the little reiatsu she feels into the tips of her fingers. The temperature of the room begins to drop. Shirayuki is not too far away from her and she isn't above violence at this point. "What happened to Ichigo? Who did this to him?"
The look in her eyes is sharp and hungry for blood. Uryu sees her fierce protectiveness over his cousin in the stance she takes as she all but shields Ichigo's injured body behind her as she takes another step towards him, blocking Ichigo from view. In her eyes, Uryu sees no fear for her own safety. There is instead an indignant flush of anger in her cheeks, an accusatory tone in her voice- some of it directed at him, for standing by and letting this happen to Ichigo.
Ichigo's actions border on unhinged, that much Uryu has always known, but it seems that he might not be the only one. Uryu wonders if the woman is even aware of what she is doing; of what her Shinigami friends would think of her if they saw her now, standing over and protecting a Sternritter- the Crown Prince of Wandenreich even, from another Sternritter.
Uryu notes it all with a distinct frown. He notices the changes in Ichigo's reiatsu- the tell-tale cackle of something dark and unnatural seeping in from the shadows and growing steadily. Even when he is unconscious, Ichigo's reiatsu is hopelessly attuned to that of the Shinigami's. It feels what she feels and churns in response to her agitation, roiling the reishi in the air.
Ichigo has to consciously keep his destructive tendencies reined in. If he loses control now, Uryu shudders at the thought of the aftermath. He resists the urge to roll his eyes. When did this all become so complicated?
"You're wasting your time! I'm not the bad guy here. I—"
"That's not what I asked," says Rukia. "I want to know what happened to Ichigo and who did this to him."
She wants revenge. Uryu snorts. Does she even realize the situation that she is in; that she is for all intents and purposes, a prisoner of war within Silbern?
His voice drops low as he whispers, "He and Äs Nödt were ambushed in Hueco Mundo. Ichigo got away but Äs Nödt's dead. He gave up his own life to save Ichigo's."
Rukia falls quiet, her palms suddenly clammy. She is too shocked to even react to the news of Äs Nödt's death. While a part of her mourns the loss of the opportunity to mark his end by her own hands, her regret is easily overshadowed by the thought that there was someone daring or mad enough to try and ambush two Sternritters.
"A-Ambush? By whom?"
Uryu looks at her, suddenly feeling pity for her. She doesn't know. Ichigo would like nothing more than to keep her ignorant, to hide the news from her. But Uryu is not him and he does not owe neither of them anything. The truth is as it is laid out before him. He will say it as it is.
"According to Ichigo, your brother. The Shinigamis have formed an alliance with the Arrancars. They planned to assassinate him. Äs Nödt saved him at the cost of his own life. Or at least that's what Ichigo claims."
He looks away, granting Rukia a moment of silence to collect herself as she processes the information. Like being plunged under icy waters, her body seizes up. She forgets how to breathe, her knuckles turning white from how hard she is clenching them. Her nightmare from last night- everything that she feared and despised, it is all coming true.
She blinks her tears away, swallowing her discomfort and despair. She cannot fall apart yet. Uryu is still here. Ichigo is the only exception. She will not let another Sternritter see her cry. Besides, there is something in Uryu's tone that strikes Rukia as odd. The more she thinks about it, the more suspicious it becomes. She may not know Äs Nödt well, but he does not seem like the type selfless enough to sacrifice his own life unless he was given a reason compelling enough. For the so-called Glory of the Wandenreich and Yhwach perhaps, but never a brother-in-arms, and definitely not for Ichigo after Ichigo broke his nose.
Rukia frowns. "What are you saying? You don't believe that they were ambushed? You think that Ichigo is lying?"
Uryu gives a thin smile. Good for her, he thought; at least she's not completely clueless about things. "It doesn't matter what I believe. You should know by now. Here, in Silbern, only Yhwach's opinion matters. It doesn't matter what everyone else thinks. It only matters what The All Father thinks."
Even if the wounds on Äs Nödt match those of Captain Kuchiki's blade and bankai, even if Ichigo has witnesses to attest to his claim and his version of events- all the evidence in the world will not make a single difference to Yhwach if the latter chooses not to believe it.
"Yhwach does not believe him," Rukia says it with an air of finality and Uryu concurs with a simple nod.
Uryu heaves a sigh of relief. She understands the situation that they are in now. As for a way to fix the situation, Uryu does not have one. That is not his problem and instead, more up Ichigo's alley. He got himself into this, so he should dig himself out of it; preferably without dragging the people around him into the drama.
"I cannot stay."
"I understand," Rukia says simply as she lets go of his hand, choosing instead to walk him to the door, footsteps quiet and her mind, heavy with thoughts.
"Lock the door behind me, Shinigami," Uryu whispers as he takes his leave. "Remember, trust no one here."
Rukia's hands are trembling as she fumbles with the lock. With the doors locked and no curious eyes scrutinizing at her, Rukia finally lets go. Her hand flies to her mouth, covering her sobs as she collapses, hugging her knees. She feels sick. She is utterly disgusted with everything that has happened; frustrated with the state of her helplessness. She is powerless to stop whatever that is going on beyond these four walls that she is confined to, kept in the dark of anything that happens in the outside world.
Worry and guilt twists at her gut, wrenching her heart. Words cannot describe the way she is feeling right now, but Rukia does not allow herself to wallow in her despair. She would never be able to dig herself out from the pit if she allows the wave of emotions to consume her.
She swipes at the tears streaming down her face angrily, forcing herself to stand, putting one foot in front of the other despite her weak knees. Crying never helped anyone. It certainly isn't about to help her or Ichigo now.
Nii-sama did this to Ichigo. He is part of the assassination attempt on Ichigo's life. That is not something that she can change. The past is not something that she can erase and rewrite and as much as it pains her to know it, as guilty as it makes her feel; Rukia knows that it is something out of her control, something that she has no hopes of ever intervening as she remains trapped in Silbern.
Grim determination sets into her eyes. She forces herself to compartmentalise and push her worries aside. There is still much that needs to be done. She needs to channel her frustrations and guilt into something more productive. She doesn't think she will ever be able to look Ichigo in the eye again if she spends any more time thinking about it.
Rukia wanders back into the bedroom, her hands gripping tightly on the clean flannel that she found and a wooden bowl filled with clean water. It will have to do for now until she finds antiseptics and dressings for Ichigo's wounds.
She sits on the side of the bed, wringing the cloth dry before dabbing at the small cuts on Ichigo's face, cleaning the dried blood that crusted. The relief she feels when the blood comes away, showing unblemished skin underneath, is near palpable. Most of the blood on him isn't his. She can only hope that it does not belong to Nii-sama either.
"R-Rukia."
Ichigo stirs, opening his eyes when he feels the wet cloth pressed against his cheek. His lips are cracked and his voice hoarse, but it does not stop him from reaching out. Rukia's reaction is instinctive. When Ichigo's good hand reaches out, her grip on the cloth slackens as both hands grasp at the offered hand.
She presses a kiss to the upturned palm, her breath shuddering. "Ichigo, you fool! What have you done?"
Ichigo's reply to that is a weak smile, his fingers lacing hers and squeezing it lightly. The sigh that escapes him is one of contentment, the deep-set knot between his eyebrows easing. "Sorry. Didn't mean to make you worry. T-Thought I had it under control."
He tries to make himself comfortable, shifting closer to Rukia but the movement pulls at the deep wound sitting on his chest and his broken ribs, causing him to hiss and wince from the pain.
Rukia feels herself propelled into action. She cannot bear to see Ichigo like this and vows to do everything in her power to alleviate the pain, even if it kills her. She focuses on the reiryouku within her, forcing it to pool to the tip of her fingers. With one hand still holding onto Ichigo's hand, she splays the other palm over the still bleeding wound on Ichigo's chest. Her reiryouku flows from her palm onto the open wound and a pale green glow is emitted as Rukia wills the wound to close.
"Rest for now. Let me heal you."
Ichigo gives a sharp gasp. Rukia's reiryouku is gentle and soothing as it glides, becoming one with his own as they seep into his skin, invigorating the aching muscles of his body. He feels his body heeding the call to mend, stitching tissues and knitting flesh- piece by piece, inch by inch until the gaping wound fades into nothing but a bruised mark.
This is magic, Ichigo thinks as he turns to his side, his gaze falling onto Rukia's face bathed under the soft glow of light, the beads of sweat dotting her temple, her frown and tightly knitted brows. He gulps, his fingers trembling as the grip on her hand tightens. Through their laced fingers, he feels her warmth and her strength.
There is an infirmary within Silbern but Ichigo has never seen anyone in the Wandenreich take up the mantle of healing. Not because they can't, but because they won't.
Reishi in the air, no matter how rich, cannot be utilized onto that of an open wound, to make it mend or ease the pain. The law of equivalent exchange proclaims it to be so: a life for a life. Burning one's own reiryouku willingly to heal another's reeks of foolishness, a brand of Shinigami recklessness that would leave the healer vulnerable and weak. Yhwach despises any form of weakness.
There can be no greater act of love, no greater embodiment of selfless sacrifice. Ichigo feels- so painfully and acutely in that single moment. He nuzzles his face against their linked hands, overwhelmed by the surge of emotions. He thought himself immune to acts of love, incapable of feeling; yet with Rukia, his heart has never ceased its beating in her presence.
She makes him feel and the monster in him covets all that she is willing to give. With every passing moment that they share between them, he is finding it ever harder to relinquish his hold.
"S-Stop," he rasps, determined to interrupt the exchange the minute that he is bodily able to do so. "You've barely recovered. You'll kill yourself if you overexert yourself again."
Rukia nods, setting her hand down. There is colour in his cheeks again and the sound of his breathing is even. The worry in her heart eases in response. She doesn't fight it when Ichigo pulls her towards him. She climbs into bed next to him, laying her head on the pillow next to his, their hands still entwined.
"Uryu said that you were ambushed by Nii-sama, that Äs Nödt's dead because he tried to save you. Is that true?"
"Rukia—"
"Don't lie to me, Ichigo." She tilts her head upwards to meet his gaze unflinchingly. The world may see him as The Crown Prince of Wandenreich and cower away in fear, afraid to meet his gaze, but she has no such qualms.
"I want to know the truth."
Ichigo falls silent, his eyes shut, feigning sleep; but Rukia is not one to give up easily. She turns to her side, her lips at his ear as she whispers. "A simple yes or no will suffice, you don't have to say anything more. Ichigo, I just want to know; did you kill Äs Nödt?"
She hears nothing from him.
Rukia gives a hollow laugh, swallowing her disappointment. She does not need to hear anything more. His silence is telling enough. Ichigo has come to his decision, and she has come to hers as she tries to extract herself from his embrace, her hand sliding away from Ichigo's hold.
.
"Yes."
.
Her heart skips a beat and in her stunned stupor, Ichigo tugs her back into his hold, pining her legs with his, his lips pressed to her cheek. Rukia's heart thunders. She can feel goosebumps pricking on her arm, rising in response to Ichigo's answer.
Rukia gulps. "W-Why did you do it?"
Ichigo's eyes sear in molten amber, piercing her as he presses himself against her fuller, burying his face in the crook of her shoulders, kissing her hair. He almost scoffs. His Rukia is much too kind, too good for Silbern. As if he needed a reason to justify killing Äs Nödt; the bastard hurt her and almost took her away from him. That is reason enough.
"I did it for you, Rukia. I won't let anyone get away with hurting you. There's nothing that I wouldn't do for you."
Monsters don't love. Love is too simple a word, too pure to describe his willingness to murder in cold blood, to consume all in his path and watch the world burn for her. She need only point and his blade will follow- unflinching and unwavering. He will be her blade, the executor of her will. She should never have to dirty her own hands while he is there.
Ichigo hisses as he settles on the bed, adjusting his position to make himself as comfortable as possible. "Why don't you tell me a story?"
"A-A story?"
"Yes," Ichigo licks his dry lips, managing a faint smile. His streak for self-destruction is running high and he cannot bring himself to rein in the impulse. He has tried so hard, so earnestly to be good- to show his good side to Rukia to set her at ease, to make her stay; but a wolf is still a wolf under a sheep's clothing. He is tired of hiding his true self. If he had to confess his sins to a god, let that god be her. He will lay himself at her altar and show her all his imperfections. He will show her the monster that lives within him and let her be the judge for the weight of his sins.
If she goes running for the hills, screaming at him for being deranged and mad; it suits him just fine to chase her down, ignoring her kicks and screams while he keeps her chained by his side. It is nothing that he hasn't already done before. He will crush her dreams of leaving him behind.
But if she stays—
.
"I'll tell you mine if you'll share your scars. I'll go first."
Those memories are forever seared at the back of his mind. He will always remember the pain. The taste of iron in his mouth has never tasted sharper or sweeter when he finally heeded Zangetsu's call and snapped.
"I killed my bully when I was ten. Broke his neck in front of all the other kids."
He jumped at his tormentor, attacking him so viciously that the other children were stunned, unable to do anything but watch as he straddled the bigger boy and began punching him. Blood- the bright shocking spurt of colour was what finally jerked everyone back into reality and the children jumped into action, eagerly prying him off, scrambling to separate the two but it was too late.
There was blood dripping down Ichigo's nose and he knew that his nose must be broken, but it was worth it. It felt so good to lose control. Uryu came running just in time to see him wiping the blood off, eyes hollow and wearing a bloodthirsty grin. His last punch caught the other boy on the underside of his jaw and the boy's head snapped back.
"They brought me to Yhwach. Mom fought against them all the way, but there's no way out of it. She was crying when they pulled her away. Everyone thought I was going to die for murdering that kid. I thought I was going to die too, said my goodbyes and everything, but I didn't regret it."
He broke the other boy's jaw and his neck. The savagery of the act sets off a chain of events that eventually lead to him standing before The All Father- towered over and nearly paralysed with fear, but resolutely refusing to look away. He had done nothing wrong, and he told Yhwach as much. He had merely defended himself.
It wasn't his fault that the other boy couldn't take what he dished out.
"Yhwach spared me. He saw something in me that he liked, I guess. Something dark, recognized me for what I am, a monster masquerading as something else." Ichigo chuckles mirthlessly. "They say that it takes one to know one."
Yhwach smirk grew wide, stretching from cheek to cheek after hearing his reply. He takes him by the hand and the body of a playground bully quickly becomes a thing of the past as it is laid to rest. Ichigo has never set foot in those training grounds ever again.
He traded his old instructor for an even harsher master- one that Masaki has no choice but to revere and sing praises of even as she sees her son being returned to her, covered in shades of black and blue; possessing the single-minded goal of creating the greatest soldier the Wandenreich has ever seen, a monster so deadly that allies and enemies alike will learn to fear.
Ichigo moved past the pain, gritted his teeth when he found himself beaten and thrashed within an inch of his life in the name of training and the glory of the Wandenreich. A false god's promise sustains no one, but Ichigo falls prey to it nonetheless. It is hard to remember the right from the wrong when it is all that echoes within Silbern's walls; hard to ignore when they sing en masse, praises of The All Father.
"Rukia," he gulps, his voice tight. "Yhwach didn't make me into what I am. I was already defective before that, before I entered his services and became a Sternritter.
Rukia, I am a monster."
Masaki loves him like how a mother loves her child. His relationship with Uryu is fraught with disagreements but he can trust his cousin not to stab him in the back. Rukia's hand is the only one he wants to hold and to have, entwining her fingers with his willingly.
Yet, how can she when he bears claws instead of fingers?
Ichigo would rather have her held captive, to never have offered her the choice of freedom than live with the sting of her rejection. A monster like him may look intimidating enough with talons and claws, but his heart is still tender, squishy and uncharacteristically soft for her.
Rukia has his heart, but can she truly claim to love a monster like him, especially after knowing what she knows now?
As he willingly sheds his heavy armour for her, lowering his guard and letting her in, shining a light on parts of him that even he cannot bear to face and name; how would she react to his moment of vulnerability?
.
"You're not a monster," Rukia whispers, pressing a kiss to his heart, on the blemish that marked the wound that he received hours ago. "Not to me, Ichigo."
He is not the only one with blood on his hands. Far be it for her to judge him for his sins.
Growing up in Rukongai, survival has seen her pitted against the worst of situations. Her world was grey then. The Rukongai way does not discriminate. Children are not so different to other hungry mouths. Whether it be to beg, borrow or steal, for a cup of clean water, a meal to make it through the day; Rukia has done some things that she is not proud of.
Ichigo might have killed his childhood bully, but the blood that stains her hands seeps through the cracks of her fingers, lingering no matter how hard she scrubs them. They are marked by the blood of the truly innocent; a man so good that not a soul within Seireitei would have found him disagreeable.
Kaien-dono was more of a brother than Nii-sama was to her. As a true scion of the Four Noble Houses, he could have ignored her, looking down at her for her inferior birth and the suspicious circumstances surrounding her adoption into the Kuchiki clan; but he didn't.
He treated her normally, talked to her the way a fukutaichou would have spoken to a subordinate; that was all that Rukia wanted, a sense of belonging. Kaien-dono and his wife, Miyako gave her that sense of normalcy, granted her anonymity until other members of the division caught on and began to see her as one of their own. Kaien was the man who took her under his wing, trained with her and believed in her abilities. He encouraged and inspired her to be a good Shinigami.
Yet, she killed him.
"His name was Shiba Kaien. Kaien-dono was the Thirteenth Division vice captain. He was my mentor. I owe so much of what I am today to him. He and Miyako-dono, his wife, they looked after me, took me under their wing when I first joined the Thirteenth."
It happened on an unremarkable summer evening, so utterly forgettable that no one batted an eye when it was announced that Miyako-dono would lead a team to the outer Rukongai districts for a Hollow extermination mission. Kaien had been reluctant to see her go, but no one had thought any more of it. Sentarou even teased him for being clingy.
None of them thought that it would the last time they would see her alive.
"Miyako-dono and her team was attacked by a Hollow during a Hollow extermination mission in the outer Rukongai districts. She didn't survive. Kaien-dono went after the Hollow for revenge."
She couldn't even imagine the pain that Kaien-dono must have felt, the guilt that festered inside of him when he saw his wife's body lying dead in the morgue. When he wanted to go after the Hollow alone, she should have tried harder to make him wait for the back-up. Even if he would hate her, accuse her of being unfeeling, call her a hundred other unsavoury names; Rukia would have let him; at least he would have still been alive.
Ukitake-Taichou and her thought it prudent to follow Kaien, but in doing so, saw first-hand the tragedy that happened.
"The Hollow possessed him. Ukitake-Taichou tried to stop him."
Rukia would never forget how ugly the thing looked when it possessed Kaien-dono. It started raining then and when the flash of lightning streaked, granting light; she gasped at the two empty eye sockets where Kaien-dono's sea-green eyes used to sit. The monster's blue-green tongue was as long as her forearm and hanging outside his mouth. This was not Kaien-dono. She refused to acknowledge that thing as anything but a monster.
The Hollow charged at her, cackling like a mad man, his tongue swinging like an appendage with a mind of its own. Ukitake-Taichou stepped in and fought it off. It became clearer as the minutes went by and became hours, there was no way to separate Kaien-dono from the Hollow. Ukitake-Taichou wanted to do the honourable thing and end his suffering. It was the least that he could do as Kaien-dono's superior.
Lightning flashed and before the roll of ominous thunder passes, Ukitake-Taichou dropped to his knees, body seized by a sudden coughing fit. The emotional stress of the battle must have gotten to him, triggering an attack. He was down, powerless to do anything as the Hollow went after Rukia.
She remembers feeling scared, too scared to even think as the Hollow leaped at her. Reflexes kicked in. Shirayuki was in her hands. She thrusted the blade upward, spearing Kaien through the chest. Her eyes widened in shock, the sound of metal slicing through soft flesh rang in her ears. She was shaking. She was screaming as Kaien-dono's warm blood trickled down onto her cool skin, her body drenched by the rain.
"Ukitake-Taichou had a sudden coughing fit. The Hollow came charging. I-I stabbed him. It all happened so quickly."
Rukia can feel tears rolling down her cheeks as she relates her story. Ichigo's body is tense next to hers, the sound of his heart thrumming loudly.
"I-I killed him, Ichigo. Kaien-dono thanked me for killing him."
She was the only one there to hear Kaien-dono's dying words. He apologized for dragging her into his fight, told her to thank Ukitake-Taichou for letting him fight alone, granting him the last vestiges of his dignity and pride.
.
"I leave my heart with you, Rukia."
.
She snorts, shaking her head. Kaien-dono called himself a pragmatic man, when in reality he was anything but. What use would she have of a heart when it no longer has a body to hold it in?
When neither him nor Miyako-dono are there anymore?
Ukitake-Taichou told her it wasn't her fault, that Kaien-dono would have wanted this; that he would rather die at the hands of a beloved kouhai, a sister in all but name; than lose himself and become the very thing that he loathed. But that does not make the guilt any easier to live with.
Just because they don't talk about it, doesn't mean that she forgot about it; that she forgives herself.
"I was too weak. I couldn't save Kaien-dono."
A part of her is still angry, so angry at herself. If only she had been stronger, she would have been able to save Kaien-dono. She would have—
"Shh—" The kiss that lands on her forehead is chaste and gentle. Ichigo's reiatsu wraps itself protectively over her, cocooning her as he whispers, "You're not weak. You were never weak. You are enough for me, Rukia. It's not your fault."
He is not Kaien. He will not leave her alone with only a heart to remember him by. Even if he has to crawl out from the Gates of Hell, the army of undead howling after him; he would do it. He will always come back to her.
"I am not going anywhere. You will never lose me."
.
.
.
Author's note:
Song inspo: False God (Taylor Swift)
I sat for my OSCEs this Tuesday. I have a feeling I have to resit and I can't shake the feeling off. I hope I do pass but I wont know until next Friday. Ah the suspense is killing me!
Enjoy the chapter in the meantime while we wait.
Also, to the idiots in love, 亲，千万别随便立flag 啊！