week #22 -- hollow
Title: A Kiss Before Dying
Rating: PG-13? Maybe R?
Pairings/Characters: Ishida's POV, Ichigo, mention of Ulquiorra.
Warnings: Some slight spoilers, I suppose, and death and angst galore.
Word Count: 1,159
Summary: Ichigo has another encounter with Ulquiorra, and Ishida's too late to stop it.
Disclaimer: No owning Bleach for me. D'oh!
Thanks to
annieroo2 for the beta! <3
A Kiss Before Dying
We'd been together for months. A bond had been forged of the shared violence and tragedy of the war. Whether the passion we'd shared had been an outlet for the resulting emotions or true affection for one another, I wasn't sure. I thought I'd have plenty of time to answer that question, but I was wrong. As I knelt next to a battered and bleeding Ichigo, I knew our time was up.
“Kurosaki! What happened to you?” My hands wandered gingerly over his body; it was covered in wounds. Some of the cuts were so deep that things that should never see light were visible. Blood was seeping from every gash to form an expanding pool beneath him.
His hand dripped with it, but he raised it slowly towards me. I took it and he squeezed my fingers. I watched as his throat worked and a trail of red seeped from the corner of his mouth as he tried to speak.
“Ulqui-” he began, his voice gurgling with blood. He coughed and a fine red mist sprayed the air. “Ulquiorra.”
I frowned. “I thought he was dead?”
Ichigo could only manage a whisper. “Guess not.”
I cursed myself. I couldn't feel the reiatsu of an Espada nearby, so he'd done this quickly and left. I didn't get here fast enough to do anything about it. With the loss of Orihime, there was nothing to be done. I didn't know of any other way to help him and I hated it; this felt like my grandfather all over again.
I swallowed the uncomfortable lump in my throat, my lips pressed in a grim line. Ichigo was concentrating just to breathe, but he was calm, much more so than I.
“Ishida.”
I raised my eyes to his. I felt ill, looking at him like this. For all my snide remarks and teasing about his incompetence, he'd proven both his strength of arms and his resolve. Lying in the middle of the street leaking his life away wasn't a death he deserved.
His eyes swam with too many emotions for me to interpret, but the knowledge was there; he was dying, and there would be no one to bring him back this time. My mind raced through countless ideas, but they were all pointless. The only person who could help him was gone, and he was about to follow her.
“There has to be something. Maybe Urahara-san...”
Ichigo just shook his head and tightened his grip on my hand. His fingers were getting colder with every moment that passed.
“You can't die here.”
He shrugged, but even such a small movement caused an increasing amount of blood to run from the gashes on his chest and shoulders. My brows pulled together and my eyes widened. I was seldom helpless, but I didn't know what to do here. There was nothing I could do and I was disgusted by the feeling.
“Kurosaki!”
“No, Ishida.” He coughed again, turning his head and spitting out the liquid that filled his mouth. I ripped off a piece of his already torn shihakushou and wiped the blood from his lips. I was being ridiculous; nothing would help him now.
Ichigo put his other hand on mine to stop my shaking ministrations. A small smile spread across his face and he kissed my fingertips. It felt like my stomach was in my throat; my eyes were hot and my lips quivered. I realized the question about our affection for each other had been answered, unfortunately it made little difference now.
“It'll be fine, Ishida.”
I shook my head and moved my hand from his face to push away his unruly orange hair. I didn't want him to die. We'd suffered so much in the past year, neither one of us had come out unscathed. This wasn't fair. I scoffed silently at myself; I was being foolish. Life and death didn't care about being fair.
I bent my face towards his and laid a gentle kiss on the tip of nose; his skin was cold here, too. He raised his hand to the back of my head to bury his fingers in my hair, though it must have hurt him to do so. He pulled until my forehead rested on his. My eyes closed as I fought to keep my usual composure, but as I felt his reiatsu fade, it was a difficult feat.
“I'm sorry.” His words were so soft I could barely hear them. I opened my eyes to see his beautiful brown ones fill my vision. I swallowed several times before I could speak.
“You should be,” I whispered. “You're staining my pants.”
He smiled again and moved his lips to mine. His kiss was tender and expressed emotions neither one of us would ever voice. I pressed against those lips and squeezed my eyes shut. The first tear ran hot down my cheek and a weak cry escaped my throat. Ichigo only tangled his fingers in my hair tighter and deepened the kiss.
I pulled away when his breathing became more labored and the grip he had on my head and hand weakened. I put my forehead against his again, and moved both my hands to the sides of his face. His eyes were wide and wet with tears of his own. His chest rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths.
“Kurosaki?” When he didn't respond, I raised my voice. “Kurosaki!” He met my eyes, but his were fading in and out of focus. I was losing him.
“Ishida... I think I... you...”
“Shh.” I moved my trembling fingers over his lips. “I know.” He transferred his hands to mine, intertwining our fingers, though his grip was frail. I kept my gaze on him; his eyelids were fluttering shut, but he fought to keep me in sight.
A grimace passed over his face, and his hands began to fall from mine. His mouth moved wordlessly and he took several gasps for air.
“It hurts.” He exhaled with a soft rattle. He didn't take another breath.
I slid my fingers over his still open eyes and laid a shaking kiss on his forehead. I sat back and placed a shaking hand on his bloodied chest. I fisted it in his clothing and felt something inside myself break. “Damn you, Kurosaki!” I covered my face with one hand and bent over him.
I rested on his lifeless body and let go. I cried silent tears onto his skin and grieved for my friend, my comrade, and my lover; knowing that there would be an empty space left in my heart. A void that he should have filled.
END