IRAF Fic 2: Rise, Rise- An Introduction to Ichigo [ Kryptonite-- 3 Doors Down]
Second installment of the IRAF.
Title: Rise, Rise- An Introduction to Ichigo
Featuring:Kryptonite- 3 Doors Down
Rating: PG for language
Release Date: June 15, 2007
Word Count: 2,844
Genre: Introduction
Read Only Version
This fic is the first of the two part introduction pieces, one for Ichigo and one for Rukia.
You can't have an IchiRuki FST without songs that introduce them separately, because they are, after all, separate entities. I'm guessing that this is possibly a dead giveaway for Ichigo's intro song. The words are so blatantly written for him that I had almost wanted to scrap it because the song itself told enough of the story. But I ended up using it, because I realized, after writing the seventh fic or so, that it's not the song that determines the story. I think that's possibly the reason why so many songfics make me cringe, because the writers are allowing the song to write the characters. So I tried a little something else with the introduction fics. This fic is about Ichigo's life and how he grew up. No blatant imagery in correlation with the lyrics, and hopefully, when read, it can give the fic as well as the song a deeper layer of meaning.
I loved writing these introduction fics because it forced me to try and imagine how it was for the characters, it helped answer a lot of questions too: How things happened, why things happened, what did they think when this happened? It's really corny to say this, but I feel like I understand Ichigo and Rukia a little more after writing these, somewhat more 3-dimensionally. So this fic brings things all the way back to the beginning, and hopefully makes some sense of things from Ichigo's side. And Kryptonite is a very powerful yet tragic song, sort of describes a broken hero that keeps pushing on and on. Chances are you guys have already heard it. :) I hope you enjoy reading.
♥
Jazzy
PS. Betas... <3
I took a walk around the world to ease my troubled mind
I left my body laying somewhere in the sands of time
As a child, Ichigo had always known that he wanted to protect people. It was in his name, after all. Ichi for one and go for guard: to guard and protect the one person that meant the most to him. That person had been his mother.
“‘Kaa-san,” he had told her, “Ichigo’s going to grow up big and strong to protect you.”
His mother had laughed and ruffled his soft, orange hair and replied that she was delighted. So per his request, and wisely against his father’s plea of just let me train him, please, Masaki-chi? I promise I’ll be gentle, they sent him to karate class every afternoon. Ichigo hated it there because the other kids always bullied him-just one girl, actually, but he’d never admit that-and every time he would cry because he didn’t want to fight. He came here to get stronger, to learn how to protect people, not hurt them. He didn’t understand how the two connected and tried his best to avoid any sort of violence during class. They always came for him for some reason, and he would always end up with his bottom on the floor, crying. They left him alone then. He would continue to whimper in soft sniffles so they wouldn’t come back; but he stopped immediately when his mother came through the door. Then he would put on a smile and run to her to tell her about how much he’d learned that day and how much stronger he was getting.
He didn’t know why he had to protect his mother from his weakness in his five-year-old mind, but he did, and it wasn’t until a long time later that he learned, through his father’s teasing, that his mother did know after all. Maybe he did so because he was afraid of disappointing her, or maybe he was ashamed.
Maybe he thought that if he couldn’t protect his mother from others, at least he could protect her from himself.
I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon
I feel there is nothing I can do, yeah
When his mother died, his world became gray; gray from the rain that continued to pour for weeks, gray from the dust that suddenly began accumulating in the house, gray from the sudden loss of color that left him with nothing but a draining feeling that all that had mattered was no longer there.
Ichigo had never forgiven himself for his mother’s death. He had killed her by being weak, by not being strong enough to protect her when he had said he would. He had lied to her that he had become stronger and then, when it had mattered, he had let her down. The house had become stifling from so much dust, so much silence, and so much nothingness that he had to get out. He would go to the river every day, to where his mother had fallen, and say kaa-san, kaa-san, I’m sorry I lied. Are you mad at me?
After his thirtieth visit he had realized that there were a lot of things that he hated about rivers: how they flowed on and on and never ended; how they were cold and wet and made the wind hitting his face turn sour; how they trickled loudly against the banks but never ever answered him when he cried.
His father had found him on the river bank one day. Ichigo had woken up to the prodding of his father’s foot at his back and had sat up to gaze imploringly at the man in front of him.
Do you want to become stronger, Ichigo?
He had nodded fiercely in response, and that was the last time Isshin was ever gentle with him. He trained him, albeit rather relentlessly, charging at Ichigo again and again with blows and kicks, shifting, just before contact, to avoid seriously hurting him.
“You cannot protect anyone, Ichigo, when you cannot protect yourself.” He had said, bringing his fist back for another blow, “Guard yourself, so you can protect others.”
I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon
After all I knew it had to be something to do with you
Years later, he met a girl. Their first encounter had been a bizarre one, with her in the middle of the air and him watching on the ground. The Hollow had turned to attack him as he tried to help the ghost child escape and now loomed over him, all mask and teeth. The girl had descended gracefully from the sky, her blade drawn and positioned precisely, perfectly, and with a slice, the Hollow was gone in a flurry of light.
She had looked around with a detached look of disdain when she reached the ground and he had shivered when he met her eyes. She didn’t seem to see him, just sheathed her sword and disappeared, leaving behind only the heavy weight of diluted power. And he had stood there, eyes wide and mouth wider, feeling the rush of disbelief and awe, thinking I want that.
He had wanted to chase after her to ask her who she was and what she was and where her powers had come from.
Please, he had thought, staring into the streets that once again bustled with people, come back, I want to fight. I don’t want to run anymore.
He didn’t know whether it was his wish being granted or a trick of fate that she walked into his bedroom that night, of all the walls to materialize through in Karakura town. It didn’t matter, though, because she was here, and now, maybe he could do something more.
I really don’t mind what happens now and then
as long as you’ll be my friend at the end
Later that night, she had jumped in front of him, blocking him from the Hollow with her own body. He had gaped at her, torn between his anger at her interference and the disbelief that she didn’t even know him, yet was willing to give her life to save his.
Shit, he had thought as he watched her edge toward the side of the road, don’t you die, Shinigami. He hadn’t realized until then how much he hated blood. Not just blood, but blood spilt for his sake. The sight of it was like a twist in his gut, bringing back images of his mother’s cold, pale hands in the puddle of her blood. Don’t you dare die, he thought furiously as he walked toward her, his steps tentative and guilt ridden, I’m not worth dying for.
Fool, she had called him, and he bit down a retort because really, he deserved that, having quite literally rushed at a monster with a baseball bat. He had watched her carefully pull herself in; she made tiny but almost graceful hisses of pain with each inch of movement and had looked up at him with exhausted eyes.
Do it, if you want to save your family, she had said, offering him her sword and her powers.
There had been a crazy voice laughing in his head, saying you wanted it, didn’t you? Well now you have it. It had just been a cruel twist of fate that he would obtain these powers in this condition. But he had taken it anyway, wondering if he had become insane as he stabbed the cold blade through his chest and felt himself change, as if he’d been encaged and was finally set free. His world had instantly been coated with a flash of white and power had rushed through his veins. Suddenly, he felt like he could live up to his name.
Thank you, Shinigami, he had thought as he cut off a Hollow arm with his amazingly huge sword, feeling heroic and kick ass.
/Rukia/, he had corrected himself, thank you for making me strong.
You called me strong, you called me weak, but still your secrets I will keep
You took for granted all the times I never let you down
She had ended up living in his house, in his closet, no less, not that his protests mattered much because really, he’d never agreed to anything. Look, he once tried to tell her, my house, my rules and she had only flashed him a grin while fastening that glove onto her hand.
Crazy bitch, he had thought to himself as he carefully made his retreat.
He found it hard at times to believe that she could be capable of anything other than fights and arguments. It was strange, though, because he didn’t mind these fights too much. For the first time in his life, he had almost started to enjoy them, and had, from time to time, even initiated them.
Life, he had soon realized with his head on her lap in the rain, having collapsed there after his fight with Grand Fisher, had its funny ways of working out.
He had known that he couldn’t push himself any further but he had felt that he had to, because this was Grand Fisher; the Hollow who had killed his mother, the Hollow who made Karin and Yuzu cry. He had to kill him, bleeding chest wound or not.
I’m not weak, he had thought to himself as he dragged his body up to pursue the Hollow, I can’t be weak…at a time like this.
So when he saw the world turn upside down with only the sky and the rain in his eyes, he knew he had lost, and suddenly, he was very glad that it was raining.
Her face above his was happy, sad, grateful, worried, maybe fifty more kinds of emotions bundled into one and it made his chest clench unpleasantly.
Rukia, he thought as his vision began to dim. Don’t look at me like that.
He was quickly losing consciousness, he realized, and cursed it.
Because…that’s how kaa-san would look at me.
The raindrops on his face tasted salty that night, and he wondered if the sky was crying too.
You stumbled in and bumped your head, if not for me then you would be dead
I picked you up and put you back on solid ground
He had grown accustomed to having Rukia around, and two months was such a short time. He liked it this way, where, with the power she had given him, he could finally protect people. It had felt like repaying a debt, and when that feeling had gone away, he realized that he was okay with that too.
He soon learned, however, that there were prices to pay for everything, like the power he had obtained from Rukia. Because of his need to be stronger, to protect people, she now had to die, had to be dragged off to her stupid Soul Society to be executed, and it was fucking ironic.
She had to pay the price of his stupidity.
And she had kicked his hand off of Byakuya’s robes, leaving willingly with those men so that they wouldn’t kill him. She was going to die, all the while protecting him, and he had never felt like a bigger jerk in his life.
He hated sacrifices, he had thought as he curled his hands into the cold, wet ground; noble his ass. It wasn’t her burden to bear and now he had another debt to repay.
Damn you, Rukia, he had thought, cursing venomously into the ground, don’t you… protect… me…
Abarai Renji, the guy with the funny glasses, was yelling at him, shouting about how Rukia wouldn’t have to die if he didn’t steal her powers,
Yeah, yeah, you bastard, he thought as Renji swung his weird looking sword thing again, I /know/ that!
That’s why I will save her.
Weakness was a scary thing, he thought. Weakness caused him to screw up other people’s lives; weakness caused people to die. Weakness made people protect him and he fucking hated that.
He wasn’t allowed to be weak anymore. This time it was his powers and his will he was fighting with.
“Renji,” he said, straightening up after the impact, “I’ve found my resolve to kill you.”
Don’t come after you, Rukia? He thought, feeling his reiatsu well up around him. Like hell.
I don’t need your forgiveness.
I won’t let you die, you stupid girl.
If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman
If I’m alive and well, will you be there holding my hand?
He had found out when he had returned that he had a Hollow inside of him. It wanted to eat him, wanted to destroy everything that mattered to him. And this time, he could not fight, because this time, he would not be the only one getting stronger.
Useless, he had thought, lying on his bed and trying to think himself into nonexistence, I’m useless.
He had flexed his hand, fingering the empty space where Zangetsu would have- should have been and had hated himself. A sword without a wielder was dead metal. A person who couldn’t protect what was important to him should be dead as well.
And then she had come back into his world, in perhaps one of the most dramatic and corny entrances he had ever seen. She had greeted him with a nose-crushing kick to the face and had proceeded to drag him out the window and in front of a shark Hollow, throwing him headfirst at it.
“Stop running around and face it with the intent to kill!” she had shouted, her voice ebbing with annoyance and anger.
That’s right, he had realized, stopping himself to turn around. He had raised his zanpakuto, ready to cut into Hollow flesh as he felt his resolve rush into his limbs. I have to fight.
Then he felt the Hollow inside of him smile.
Yes, Ichigo, it said, fight.
He had forced his muscles to halt mid-swing, barely dodging the crash of the shark-Hollow’s fist.
“What are you doing?!” He had heard Rukia scream at him and in his mind he was asking himself the same thing, “What’s wrong with you!?”
Have you lost your will to be a shinigami?
No, he had wanted to shout at her, shut up! That crazy bitch, did she think that he liked this? Couldn’t she understand that he couldn’t fight? He couldn’t do anything, couldn’t protect anyone anymore because people were getting hurt, and there wasn’t a single fucking thing in the world he could do. Not this time.
“What are you so frightened of, Ichigo?”
He had pushed himself off the ground and stood up. That’s a stupid question, he thought, there were plenty of things to be afraid of.
“Pull yourself together, Ichigo!” She had continued fiercely, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. “Even if you can’t rely on anyone else…”
He had turned to look at her, noting with amusement how she could look so small, yet at the same time, so powerful.
“…because that’s what the you in my heart would do.”
The determination in her eyes had been startlingly familiar and he recalled, suddenly, their first meeting, with her hand on the hilt and his on the blade, plunging the zanpakuto into his chest, the power bursting into light beneath his eyes.
I remember now, he had thought, reaching for the hilt of his Zanpakuto, I… don’t have to run anymore.
“Shut up,” he had said to her, the cocky smile back on his face, “didn’t I tell you that you were too loud?”
I’ll keep you by my side with my superhuman might
Kryptonite
Somewhere along the way he had begun to watch her out of the corner of his eye. Power regained or not, it grated on him every time she fought. It really, really hadn’t helped when that crazy ass Arrancar dug a hole into her stomach.
Damn it, Rukia, he had thought, gazing at her slender form that was glowing in Inoue’s healing shield. Why do you always make people worry?
“What’s with that look?” she had glared at him, her eyes confronting his, “Do you think you’re responsible for my injuries?”
He had kept his eyes on her, watching her straighten her robes -Inoue’s powers healed clothes too?- and noting how small, pale, and fragile she now looked. He had felt that familiar tingle of guilt wriggle itself way up his spine, making him feel as if it were all his fault that she-
“Don’t get on top of yourself!” She had snapped at him, voice terse and indignant, “My injuries are my fault, I’m not so weak that I’d need your protection.”
He had blinked, taken aback by her words and the flashing anger in her eyes. Power, he remembered, that bright burst of power that he once had… was hers.
Too bad, Rukia, he had thought to himself, that your opinion never mattered.
end.
Download song here:Kryptonite- 3 Doors Down
*note This song is in .m4a format. If you cannot play this file, please tell me and I'll convert it.
View lyrics here:
http://www.elyrics.net/read/0-9/3-doors-down-lyrics/kryptonite-lyrics.html
All comments are screened until unscreened. Please do not hesitate to point out any awkwardness or errors that I have missed.
Title: Rise, Rise- An Introduction to Ichigo
Featuring:Kryptonite- 3 Doors Down
Rating: PG for language
Release Date: June 15, 2007
Word Count: 2,844
Genre: Introduction
Read Only Version
This fic is the first of the two part introduction pieces, one for Ichigo and one for Rukia.
You can't have an IchiRuki FST without songs that introduce them separately, because they are, after all, separate entities. I'm guessing that this is possibly a dead giveaway for Ichigo's intro song. The words are so blatantly written for him that I had almost wanted to scrap it because the song itself told enough of the story. But I ended up using it, because I realized, after writing the seventh fic or so, that it's not the song that determines the story. I think that's possibly the reason why so many songfics make me cringe, because the writers are allowing the song to write the characters. So I tried a little something else with the introduction fics. This fic is about Ichigo's life and how he grew up. No blatant imagery in correlation with the lyrics, and hopefully, when read, it can give the fic as well as the song a deeper layer of meaning.
I loved writing these introduction fics because it forced me to try and imagine how it was for the characters, it helped answer a lot of questions too: How things happened, why things happened, what did they think when this happened? It's really corny to say this, but I feel like I understand Ichigo and Rukia a little more after writing these, somewhat more 3-dimensionally. So this fic brings things all the way back to the beginning, and hopefully makes some sense of things from Ichigo's side. And Kryptonite is a very powerful yet tragic song, sort of describes a broken hero that keeps pushing on and on. Chances are you guys have already heard it. :) I hope you enjoy reading.
♥
Jazzy
PS. Betas... <3
I took a walk around the world to ease my troubled mind
I left my body laying somewhere in the sands of time
As a child, Ichigo had always known that he wanted to protect people. It was in his name, after all. Ichi for one and go for guard: to guard and protect the one person that meant the most to him. That person had been his mother.
“‘Kaa-san,” he had told her, “Ichigo’s going to grow up big and strong to protect you.”
His mother had laughed and ruffled his soft, orange hair and replied that she was delighted. So per his request, and wisely against his father’s plea of just let me train him, please, Masaki-chi? I promise I’ll be gentle, they sent him to karate class every afternoon. Ichigo hated it there because the other kids always bullied him-just one girl, actually, but he’d never admit that-and every time he would cry because he didn’t want to fight. He came here to get stronger, to learn how to protect people, not hurt them. He didn’t understand how the two connected and tried his best to avoid any sort of violence during class. They always came for him for some reason, and he would always end up with his bottom on the floor, crying. They left him alone then. He would continue to whimper in soft sniffles so they wouldn’t come back; but he stopped immediately when his mother came through the door. Then he would put on a smile and run to her to tell her about how much he’d learned that day and how much stronger he was getting.
He didn’t know why he had to protect his mother from his weakness in his five-year-old mind, but he did, and it wasn’t until a long time later that he learned, through his father’s teasing, that his mother did know after all. Maybe he did so because he was afraid of disappointing her, or maybe he was ashamed.
Maybe he thought that if he couldn’t protect his mother from others, at least he could protect her from himself.
I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon
I feel there is nothing I can do, yeah
When his mother died, his world became gray; gray from the rain that continued to pour for weeks, gray from the dust that suddenly began accumulating in the house, gray from the sudden loss of color that left him with nothing but a draining feeling that all that had mattered was no longer there.
Ichigo had never forgiven himself for his mother’s death. He had killed her by being weak, by not being strong enough to protect her when he had said he would. He had lied to her that he had become stronger and then, when it had mattered, he had let her down. The house had become stifling from so much dust, so much silence, and so much nothingness that he had to get out. He would go to the river every day, to where his mother had fallen, and say kaa-san, kaa-san, I’m sorry I lied. Are you mad at me?
After his thirtieth visit he had realized that there were a lot of things that he hated about rivers: how they flowed on and on and never ended; how they were cold and wet and made the wind hitting his face turn sour; how they trickled loudly against the banks but never ever answered him when he cried.
His father had found him on the river bank one day. Ichigo had woken up to the prodding of his father’s foot at his back and had sat up to gaze imploringly at the man in front of him.
Do you want to become stronger, Ichigo?
He had nodded fiercely in response, and that was the last time Isshin was ever gentle with him. He trained him, albeit rather relentlessly, charging at Ichigo again and again with blows and kicks, shifting, just before contact, to avoid seriously hurting him.
“You cannot protect anyone, Ichigo, when you cannot protect yourself.” He had said, bringing his fist back for another blow, “Guard yourself, so you can protect others.”
I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon
After all I knew it had to be something to do with you
Years later, he met a girl. Their first encounter had been a bizarre one, with her in the middle of the air and him watching on the ground. The Hollow had turned to attack him as he tried to help the ghost child escape and now loomed over him, all mask and teeth. The girl had descended gracefully from the sky, her blade drawn and positioned precisely, perfectly, and with a slice, the Hollow was gone in a flurry of light.
She had looked around with a detached look of disdain when she reached the ground and he had shivered when he met her eyes. She didn’t seem to see him, just sheathed her sword and disappeared, leaving behind only the heavy weight of diluted power. And he had stood there, eyes wide and mouth wider, feeling the rush of disbelief and awe, thinking I want that.
He had wanted to chase after her to ask her who she was and what she was and where her powers had come from.
Please, he had thought, staring into the streets that once again bustled with people, come back, I want to fight. I don’t want to run anymore.
He didn’t know whether it was his wish being granted or a trick of fate that she walked into his bedroom that night, of all the walls to materialize through in Karakura town. It didn’t matter, though, because she was here, and now, maybe he could do something more.
I really don’t mind what happens now and then
as long as you’ll be my friend at the end
Later that night, she had jumped in front of him, blocking him from the Hollow with her own body. He had gaped at her, torn between his anger at her interference and the disbelief that she didn’t even know him, yet was willing to give her life to save his.
Shit, he had thought as he watched her edge toward the side of the road, don’t you die, Shinigami. He hadn’t realized until then how much he hated blood. Not just blood, but blood spilt for his sake. The sight of it was like a twist in his gut, bringing back images of his mother’s cold, pale hands in the puddle of her blood. Don’t you dare die, he thought furiously as he walked toward her, his steps tentative and guilt ridden, I’m not worth dying for.
Fool, she had called him, and he bit down a retort because really, he deserved that, having quite literally rushed at a monster with a baseball bat. He had watched her carefully pull herself in; she made tiny but almost graceful hisses of pain with each inch of movement and had looked up at him with exhausted eyes.
Do it, if you want to save your family, she had said, offering him her sword and her powers.
There had been a crazy voice laughing in his head, saying you wanted it, didn’t you? Well now you have it. It had just been a cruel twist of fate that he would obtain these powers in this condition. But he had taken it anyway, wondering if he had become insane as he stabbed the cold blade through his chest and felt himself change, as if he’d been encaged and was finally set free. His world had instantly been coated with a flash of white and power had rushed through his veins. Suddenly, he felt like he could live up to his name.
Thank you, Shinigami, he had thought as he cut off a Hollow arm with his amazingly huge sword, feeling heroic and kick ass.
/Rukia/, he had corrected himself, thank you for making me strong.
You called me strong, you called me weak, but still your secrets I will keep
You took for granted all the times I never let you down
She had ended up living in his house, in his closet, no less, not that his protests mattered much because really, he’d never agreed to anything. Look, he once tried to tell her, my house, my rules and she had only flashed him a grin while fastening that glove onto her hand.
Crazy bitch, he had thought to himself as he carefully made his retreat.
He found it hard at times to believe that she could be capable of anything other than fights and arguments. It was strange, though, because he didn’t mind these fights too much. For the first time in his life, he had almost started to enjoy them, and had, from time to time, even initiated them.
Life, he had soon realized with his head on her lap in the rain, having collapsed there after his fight with Grand Fisher, had its funny ways of working out.
He had known that he couldn’t push himself any further but he had felt that he had to, because this was Grand Fisher; the Hollow who had killed his mother, the Hollow who made Karin and Yuzu cry. He had to kill him, bleeding chest wound or not.
I’m not weak, he had thought to himself as he dragged his body up to pursue the Hollow, I can’t be weak…at a time like this.
So when he saw the world turn upside down with only the sky and the rain in his eyes, he knew he had lost, and suddenly, he was very glad that it was raining.
Her face above his was happy, sad, grateful, worried, maybe fifty more kinds of emotions bundled into one and it made his chest clench unpleasantly.
Rukia, he thought as his vision began to dim. Don’t look at me like that.
He was quickly losing consciousness, he realized, and cursed it.
Because…that’s how kaa-san would look at me.
The raindrops on his face tasted salty that night, and he wondered if the sky was crying too.
You stumbled in and bumped your head, if not for me then you would be dead
I picked you up and put you back on solid ground
He had grown accustomed to having Rukia around, and two months was such a short time. He liked it this way, where, with the power she had given him, he could finally protect people. It had felt like repaying a debt, and when that feeling had gone away, he realized that he was okay with that too.
He soon learned, however, that there were prices to pay for everything, like the power he had obtained from Rukia. Because of his need to be stronger, to protect people, she now had to die, had to be dragged off to her stupid Soul Society to be executed, and it was fucking ironic.
She had to pay the price of his stupidity.
And she had kicked his hand off of Byakuya’s robes, leaving willingly with those men so that they wouldn’t kill him. She was going to die, all the while protecting him, and he had never felt like a bigger jerk in his life.
He hated sacrifices, he had thought as he curled his hands into the cold, wet ground; noble his ass. It wasn’t her burden to bear and now he had another debt to repay.
Damn you, Rukia, he had thought, cursing venomously into the ground, don’t you… protect… me…
Abarai Renji, the guy with the funny glasses, was yelling at him, shouting about how Rukia wouldn’t have to die if he didn’t steal her powers,
Yeah, yeah, you bastard, he thought as Renji swung his weird looking sword thing again, I /know/ that!
That’s why I will save her.
Weakness was a scary thing, he thought. Weakness caused him to screw up other people’s lives; weakness caused people to die. Weakness made people protect him and he fucking hated that.
He wasn’t allowed to be weak anymore. This time it was his powers and his will he was fighting with.
“Renji,” he said, straightening up after the impact, “I’ve found my resolve to kill you.”
Don’t come after you, Rukia? He thought, feeling his reiatsu well up around him. Like hell.
I don’t need your forgiveness.
I won’t let you die, you stupid girl.
If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman
If I’m alive and well, will you be there holding my hand?
He had found out when he had returned that he had a Hollow inside of him. It wanted to eat him, wanted to destroy everything that mattered to him. And this time, he could not fight, because this time, he would not be the only one getting stronger.
Useless, he had thought, lying on his bed and trying to think himself into nonexistence, I’m useless.
He had flexed his hand, fingering the empty space where Zangetsu would have- should have been and had hated himself. A sword without a wielder was dead metal. A person who couldn’t protect what was important to him should be dead as well.
And then she had come back into his world, in perhaps one of the most dramatic and corny entrances he had ever seen. She had greeted him with a nose-crushing kick to the face and had proceeded to drag him out the window and in front of a shark Hollow, throwing him headfirst at it.
“Stop running around and face it with the intent to kill!” she had shouted, her voice ebbing with annoyance and anger.
That’s right, he had realized, stopping himself to turn around. He had raised his zanpakuto, ready to cut into Hollow flesh as he felt his resolve rush into his limbs. I have to fight.
Then he felt the Hollow inside of him smile.
Yes, Ichigo, it said, fight.
He had forced his muscles to halt mid-swing, barely dodging the crash of the shark-Hollow’s fist.
“What are you doing?!” He had heard Rukia scream at him and in his mind he was asking himself the same thing, “What’s wrong with you!?”
Have you lost your will to be a shinigami?
No, he had wanted to shout at her, shut up! That crazy bitch, did she think that he liked this? Couldn’t she understand that he couldn’t fight? He couldn’t do anything, couldn’t protect anyone anymore because people were getting hurt, and there wasn’t a single fucking thing in the world he could do. Not this time.
“What are you so frightened of, Ichigo?”
He had pushed himself off the ground and stood up. That’s a stupid question, he thought, there were plenty of things to be afraid of.
“Pull yourself together, Ichigo!” She had continued fiercely, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. “Even if you can’t rely on anyone else…”
He had turned to look at her, noting with amusement how she could look so small, yet at the same time, so powerful.
“…because that’s what the you in my heart would do.”
The determination in her eyes had been startlingly familiar and he recalled, suddenly, their first meeting, with her hand on the hilt and his on the blade, plunging the zanpakuto into his chest, the power bursting into light beneath his eyes.
I remember now, he had thought, reaching for the hilt of his Zanpakuto, I… don’t have to run anymore.
“Shut up,” he had said to her, the cocky smile back on his face, “didn’t I tell you that you were too loud?”
I’ll keep you by my side with my superhuman might
Kryptonite
Somewhere along the way he had begun to watch her out of the corner of his eye. Power regained or not, it grated on him every time she fought. It really, really hadn’t helped when that crazy ass Arrancar dug a hole into her stomach.
Damn it, Rukia, he had thought, gazing at her slender form that was glowing in Inoue’s healing shield. Why do you always make people worry?
“What’s with that look?” she had glared at him, her eyes confronting his, “Do you think you’re responsible for my injuries?”
He had kept his eyes on her, watching her straighten her robes -Inoue’s powers healed clothes too?- and noting how small, pale, and fragile she now looked. He had felt that familiar tingle of guilt wriggle itself way up his spine, making him feel as if it were all his fault that she-
“Don’t get on top of yourself!” She had snapped at him, voice terse and indignant, “My injuries are my fault, I’m not so weak that I’d need your protection.”
He had blinked, taken aback by her words and the flashing anger in her eyes. Power, he remembered, that bright burst of power that he once had… was hers.
Too bad, Rukia, he had thought to himself, that your opinion never mattered.
end.
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