Nameless Wishes
Another fic, this one done for 10_whores. I have Rukia as my character, and while some pairings for her are pretty easy to write (Ichigo, Renji, Byakuya, Kaien, Shirosaki), some other ones aren't. I've been doing some writing with a friend as Hanatarou, and I just felt inspired to do this, as I feel that he really does have some sort of feelings for her, even if it's mostly adoration. It's easy to see a hint of one-sided feeling on his part, I think, just because she treated him differently than anyone else. She didn't overlook him and belittle him, and I always thought that meant a great deal to him.
Title: Nameless Wishes
Character: Kuchiki Rukia
Pairing: Kuchiki Rukia x Yamada Hanatarou
Author: tasogaretaichou
Rating: G
Prompt: Nameless
Warnings: Nothing objectional
Summary: Even those who are nameless have wishes and dreams.
It had started with a day. Like any other day, really. The sun rose, shinig across the sky in soft golden rays as it always had, setting warmth and light to the world below it, a world ruled and governed by law and rule and tradition. But couched within the subtle strains of music that made up the daily progression of 24 hours was something new. Something different and sparkling, a small mote of diamond amidst a rough lump of clay.
That was the day he'd met her. As the boy had made his way along the hallway, studying the scrap of paper he'd been handed that morning. Instructions, not anything very different from the ones he received every morning, the maps and assignments and numbers that dictated his duties. This morning had been no different than any other morning, the only real deviation being that his shift had been altered from the most recent post in eleventh division -- a change he was glad of -- to the barracks of the sixth division instead.
Sixth division was where the prisoner, Kuchiki Rukia, was being held. Unobtrusive and somewhat shy Yamada Hantarou might have been, he still paid attention to the day-to-day occurences that went on in Soul Society and he knew, as most inhabitants of Seireitei did, of the young noble who had done the unthinkable in giving her powers to a human boy. And curiosity had warred with apprehension as he'd contemplated whether he would be assigned her cell.
Hanatarou had dealt with nobility before, and they had all been the same. Cold, impersonal, possessed of that same sort of superior disposition and manner that spoke of the way they looked upon everyone else who was 'beneath' them. The dregs of Soul Society, hardly worthy of even standing beside them. That was the way nobility viewed those around them, and that was what he'd prepared himself for.
He hadn't been prepared for a slight figure crowned by ebony hair who'd turned to look at him with deep violet eyes. Or for a soft voice tinged with both laughter and sadness as she'd shaken her head and asked him to simply address her as he would anyone else. He hadn't expected... a friend.
At first, it had seemed odd, to be conversing with someone of the nobility. To be able to relax and laugh and share with someone who seemed genuinely happy to listen. Someone who actually seemed to care, a thing that he'd experienced so little of in his lifetime, constantly ignored and belittled, overlooked and underestimated by all but his captain, who seemed to view him with the same sort of enduring and patient tenderness that a mother bears for her young. His visits to clean her cell became the bright spot of his day, shining a faint glow of hope into days fret with monotony.
It was the look in her eyes that first drew him to her, that prompted him to turn their daily conversations to her, rather than him. And it was once again her eyes that gave away the truth. It had stung at first, to have the faint mote of hope, of dream-wish that someone like her could have possibly seen someone like him in that way. But it was only a repeat of the rest of his life, overlooked and passed over.
It was the way she'd spoken about him -- he could only assume the "him" in her stories was the boy who'd taken her powers -- that, though he'd expected it to bring pain, brought instead a sense of loyalty, a strong and desperate need to help her, to see to it that the light in her eyes remained lit. For even if he couldn't set it shining with his own actions, he could nonetheless protect it and nurture it. Not because she would ever know, or perhaps ever remember. Honestly, he didn't expect her to. He wasn't memorable, not like the man she spoke of, the one who made her soul come alive and soar on wings of hope and dreams. He was simply.... Hanatarou. Plain, forgettable, unnoticed Hanatarou. One who was never in the spotlight, who was dismissed with a simple gesture at a moment's notice. He wasn't like her, standing on the lofty pinnacle of nobility. He was nameless, faceless, like all the rest. But... that wasn't the reason he would help her, fight for her, die for her if necessary. No, it was a much simpler reason then that. He would defend the light in her eyes, because it was she who had put the light into his eyes.
Title: Nameless Wishes
Character: Kuchiki Rukia
Pairing: Kuchiki Rukia x Yamada Hanatarou
Author: tasogaretaichou
Rating: G
Prompt: Nameless
Warnings: Nothing objectional
Summary: Even those who are nameless have wishes and dreams.
It had started with a day. Like any other day, really. The sun rose, shinig across the sky in soft golden rays as it always had, setting warmth and light to the world below it, a world ruled and governed by law and rule and tradition. But couched within the subtle strains of music that made up the daily progression of 24 hours was something new. Something different and sparkling, a small mote of diamond amidst a rough lump of clay.
That was the day he'd met her. As the boy had made his way along the hallway, studying the scrap of paper he'd been handed that morning. Instructions, not anything very different from the ones he received every morning, the maps and assignments and numbers that dictated his duties. This morning had been no different than any other morning, the only real deviation being that his shift had been altered from the most recent post in eleventh division -- a change he was glad of -- to the barracks of the sixth division instead.
Sixth division was where the prisoner, Kuchiki Rukia, was being held. Unobtrusive and somewhat shy Yamada Hantarou might have been, he still paid attention to the day-to-day occurences that went on in Soul Society and he knew, as most inhabitants of Seireitei did, of the young noble who had done the unthinkable in giving her powers to a human boy. And curiosity had warred with apprehension as he'd contemplated whether he would be assigned her cell.
Hanatarou had dealt with nobility before, and they had all been the same. Cold, impersonal, possessed of that same sort of superior disposition and manner that spoke of the way they looked upon everyone else who was 'beneath' them. The dregs of Soul Society, hardly worthy of even standing beside them. That was the way nobility viewed those around them, and that was what he'd prepared himself for.
He hadn't been prepared for a slight figure crowned by ebony hair who'd turned to look at him with deep violet eyes. Or for a soft voice tinged with both laughter and sadness as she'd shaken her head and asked him to simply address her as he would anyone else. He hadn't expected... a friend.
At first, it had seemed odd, to be conversing with someone of the nobility. To be able to relax and laugh and share with someone who seemed genuinely happy to listen. Someone who actually seemed to care, a thing that he'd experienced so little of in his lifetime, constantly ignored and belittled, overlooked and underestimated by all but his captain, who seemed to view him with the same sort of enduring and patient tenderness that a mother bears for her young. His visits to clean her cell became the bright spot of his day, shining a faint glow of hope into days fret with monotony.
It was the look in her eyes that first drew him to her, that prompted him to turn their daily conversations to her, rather than him. And it was once again her eyes that gave away the truth. It had stung at first, to have the faint mote of hope, of dream-wish that someone like her could have possibly seen someone like him in that way. But it was only a repeat of the rest of his life, overlooked and passed over.
It was the way she'd spoken about him -- he could only assume the "him" in her stories was the boy who'd taken her powers -- that, though he'd expected it to bring pain, brought instead a sense of loyalty, a strong and desperate need to help her, to see to it that the light in her eyes remained lit. For even if he couldn't set it shining with his own actions, he could nonetheless protect it and nurture it. Not because she would ever know, or perhaps ever remember. Honestly, he didn't expect her to. He wasn't memorable, not like the man she spoke of, the one who made her soul come alive and soar on wings of hope and dreams. He was simply.... Hanatarou. Plain, forgettable, unnoticed Hanatarou. One who was never in the spotlight, who was dismissed with a simple gesture at a moment's notice. He wasn't like her, standing on the lofty pinnacle of nobility. He was nameless, faceless, like all the rest. But... that wasn't the reason he would help her, fight for her, die for her if necessary. No, it was a much simpler reason then that. He would defend the light in her eyes, because it was she who had put the light into his eyes.