Safe and Sound {Kenpachi, Yachiru}
Title: Safe and Sound
Characters: Kenpachi, Yachiru
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,024
Summary: "Bad guys" try to take Yachiru, and Kenpachi's past comes back to haunt him.
A/N: An old fic written for Table 32 of 5_prompts (prompt #1: safe in my arms). This is pre-series when Kenpachi and Yachiru are still in the Rukongai.
“I’ll be safe with Ken-chan, right?”
Kenpachi squeezed his eyes shut as a sudden ache overcame him, grasping hold of his heart with a merciless vice grip. He was a man without fear - death submitted to him, involuntarily, without question - but at that moment he found that he couldn’t look at the girl. To see the innocence within her eyes stained and ultimately shattered was like witnessing the death of her namesake all over again.
He stifled a growl as the ache worsened, ripping open old wounds that never really healed. His pulse had gone rabid, and if there were a hundred bandits surrounding him at that instant, he would slaughter them within a second. Swift yet brutal - that was what dying in the demon’s hands meant.
“Ken-chan?” She cocked her head in puzzlement as he turned over to lie on his side, his broad, scarred back facing her.
“Go to sleep, runt,” he mumbled into the crook of his elbow, fighting the urge to just scoop the brat up in his arms and hold her, reassure her.
“But I’m still scared. And it’s cold.” She reached out a tiny hand and, clutching a fistful of his coarse hair, tugged at it. If anyone so much as touched a strand of his hair - or any part of his body for that matter - they’d be nothing but a heap of blood and carnage in the next instant.
“Ken-chan...”
There was that whine. A whine that he had to live with since the very first day he made that decision to take her under his wing. The most foolish, most insane, ridiculous decision he had made for all his goddamn life. And yet it, along with the days spent with her namesake, were the highlights of his otherwise pitiful existence.
Her tugs became more insistent, grip tightening with every pull, desperate for attention. No one had ever pulled at his hair like that before. The first Yachiru would do it on a rare occasion just for fun, to tease him, but never did she whine.
This infant was persistent, and when a sob left her, Kenpachi finally snapped. He twisted around, grabbed her under the armpits and lifted her up so she was hovering above him. Her eyes shone with tears, nose red and plump, lips pursed together in a pout.
“Stop it, idiot. Jus’...jus’ stop it.” He gave her a shake, snarling when a few droplets landed upon his face. “Don’t be such a goddamn cry baby!”
She bit down on her bottom lip and gave a minute nod, straining to hold in her sobs. After the many years that they had spent travelling together, she had learned to control her own temper. She had first started out a spoilt brat, but now she was more independent, easier to handle...but she was still just a child, and Kenpachi knew that better than anyone.
With an annoyed sigh, he lowered her to his chest and let her finish her crying. When she was done, his torso was wet and glistening. Though others would fuss over having a baby spill its tears and mucus all over their skin, he was more than used to it and, even if he did minded, he said nothing. He had been through situations much worse where blood and shit were nothing more than damned confectionaries.
Kenpachi took his haori and, despite how torn and ragged it was, wrapped the child up with it. She curled into a little ball, the crown of her pink head snuggled in the crook of his throat, seemingly satisfied.
With his eyes closed, Kenpachi listened to her slow, quiet breathing. It calmed his racing pulse, dispelled the doubts he had for himself. Each night when he was unable to sleep for reasons unknown, he would turn to the child, listen to her breaths, watch the peace painted across her face for all of Soul Society to see. And he couldn’t help but feel like stealing some of that peace for himself.
She stirred, and when he looked down to see what was the matter, he was greeted with those precious eyes that so loved to take pleasure in manipulating his mind.
“Ken-chan?”
He swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in his throat along with an inevitable curse.
“What, runt?”
“I’ll be safe with you, right?”
Not again. Kenpachi rested a forearm over his eyes, dreary. For the tenth time that night he wondered why he hadn’t murdered the child yet.
At the back of his mind, an unknown voice, soft and gentle, whispered into his ear the reason why. He stayed his blade whenever she pushed her to his limits because that was what her namesake used to do. Push him to get better. To be better.
“Ken-chan, you’ll keep me safe, right? You won’t let the bad guys take me, right?”
Those questions tore open an old wound that never healed, nor will it ever, and when Kenpachi finally looked Yachiru in the eye, he saw not just one soul, but two. They pinned him down, and no matter how strong he appeared to be, he was rendered helpless in their eyes.
His arms moved of their own accord, and when he wrapped them around the small figure, Kenpachi swore to himself the oath he had taken centuries before for an occasion much similar but with a different person.
If he couldn’t be better and protect this godforsaken runt, ’Chiru’s sacrifices would have been nothing but in vain.
A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as the child squirmed in his arms, somewhat unused to the tight hold.
“I ain’t gonna let ’em asswipes take ye ’way from me.” He ruffled her hair, scoffing in amusement at the pout she sported. “Ye can count on that, runt.”
The smile that graced her angelic features warmed his insides, and when he closed his eyes to rest for the night, a vision, blurry yet still accurate, of a woman fleeted through his mind's eye.
A chuckle left him, an expulsion of breath that intermingled with short, pink strands.
Ye’d be damned proud o’ me, ’Chiru.
Characters: Kenpachi, Yachiru
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,024
Summary: "Bad guys" try to take Yachiru, and Kenpachi's past comes back to haunt him.
A/N: An old fic written for Table 32 of 5_prompts (prompt #1: safe in my arms). This is pre-series when Kenpachi and Yachiru are still in the Rukongai.
“I’ll be safe with Ken-chan, right?”
Kenpachi squeezed his eyes shut as a sudden ache overcame him, grasping hold of his heart with a merciless vice grip. He was a man without fear - death submitted to him, involuntarily, without question - but at that moment he found that he couldn’t look at the girl. To see the innocence within her eyes stained and ultimately shattered was like witnessing the death of her namesake all over again.
He stifled a growl as the ache worsened, ripping open old wounds that never really healed. His pulse had gone rabid, and if there were a hundred bandits surrounding him at that instant, he would slaughter them within a second. Swift yet brutal - that was what dying in the demon’s hands meant.
“Ken-chan?” She cocked her head in puzzlement as he turned over to lie on his side, his broad, scarred back facing her.
“Go to sleep, runt,” he mumbled into the crook of his elbow, fighting the urge to just scoop the brat up in his arms and hold her, reassure her.
“But I’m still scared. And it’s cold.” She reached out a tiny hand and, clutching a fistful of his coarse hair, tugged at it. If anyone so much as touched a strand of his hair - or any part of his body for that matter - they’d be nothing but a heap of blood and carnage in the next instant.
“Ken-chan...”
There was that whine. A whine that he had to live with since the very first day he made that decision to take her under his wing. The most foolish, most insane, ridiculous decision he had made for all his goddamn life. And yet it, along with the days spent with her namesake, were the highlights of his otherwise pitiful existence.
Her tugs became more insistent, grip tightening with every pull, desperate for attention. No one had ever pulled at his hair like that before. The first Yachiru would do it on a rare occasion just for fun, to tease him, but never did she whine.
This infant was persistent, and when a sob left her, Kenpachi finally snapped. He twisted around, grabbed her under the armpits and lifted her up so she was hovering above him. Her eyes shone with tears, nose red and plump, lips pursed together in a pout.
“Stop it, idiot. Jus’...jus’ stop it.” He gave her a shake, snarling when a few droplets landed upon his face. “Don’t be such a goddamn cry baby!”
She bit down on her bottom lip and gave a minute nod, straining to hold in her sobs. After the many years that they had spent travelling together, she had learned to control her own temper. She had first started out a spoilt brat, but now she was more independent, easier to handle...but she was still just a child, and Kenpachi knew that better than anyone.
With an annoyed sigh, he lowered her to his chest and let her finish her crying. When she was done, his torso was wet and glistening. Though others would fuss over having a baby spill its tears and mucus all over their skin, he was more than used to it and, even if he did minded, he said nothing. He had been through situations much worse where blood and shit were nothing more than damned confectionaries.
Kenpachi took his haori and, despite how torn and ragged it was, wrapped the child up with it. She curled into a little ball, the crown of her pink head snuggled in the crook of his throat, seemingly satisfied.
With his eyes closed, Kenpachi listened to her slow, quiet breathing. It calmed his racing pulse, dispelled the doubts he had for himself. Each night when he was unable to sleep for reasons unknown, he would turn to the child, listen to her breaths, watch the peace painted across her face for all of Soul Society to see. And he couldn’t help but feel like stealing some of that peace for himself.
She stirred, and when he looked down to see what was the matter, he was greeted with those precious eyes that so loved to take pleasure in manipulating his mind.
“Ken-chan?”
He swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in his throat along with an inevitable curse.
“What, runt?”
“I’ll be safe with you, right?”
Not again. Kenpachi rested a forearm over his eyes, dreary. For the tenth time that night he wondered why he hadn’t murdered the child yet.
At the back of his mind, an unknown voice, soft and gentle, whispered into his ear the reason why. He stayed his blade whenever she pushed her to his limits because that was what her namesake used to do. Push him to get better. To be better.
“Ken-chan, you’ll keep me safe, right? You won’t let the bad guys take me, right?”
Those questions tore open an old wound that never healed, nor will it ever, and when Kenpachi finally looked Yachiru in the eye, he saw not just one soul, but two. They pinned him down, and no matter how strong he appeared to be, he was rendered helpless in their eyes.
His arms moved of their own accord, and when he wrapped them around the small figure, Kenpachi swore to himself the oath he had taken centuries before for an occasion much similar but with a different person.
If he couldn’t be better and protect this godforsaken runt, ’Chiru’s sacrifices would have been nothing but in vain.
A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as the child squirmed in his arms, somewhat unused to the tight hold.
“I ain’t gonna let ’em asswipes take ye ’way from me.” He ruffled her hair, scoffing in amusement at the pout she sported. “Ye can count on that, runt.”
The smile that graced her angelic features warmed his insides, and when he closed his eyes to rest for the night, a vision, blurry yet still accurate, of a woman fleeted through his mind's eye.
A chuckle left him, an expulsion of breath that intermingled with short, pink strands.
Ye’d be damned proud o’ me, ’Chiru.