Fanfiction | Until the Next Promise
Written for the seven day challenge at hitsu_whump.
My next few entries will probably end up being rather short. Even I have to get off the computer sometimes. x3
Title: Until the Next Promise
Artist/Author: zoldyck_fan, windlily, “Hey, you!”
Prompt: #3 promise
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / some language, disturbing visuals (?)
~*~
Until the Next Promise
~*~
It had been the right thing to do. He had stood by not only his career’s requirements but his own personal morals as well. If he hadn’t done what he had, the outcome would have been even worse. He knew it was true. He knew it was all true.
So why did he have the sudden urge to quit his job, scrap his morals, and screw it all?
Gnawing on his lips, he tried to calm himself down. This was no time to get angry. He needed to keep his wits about himself or else he wouldn’t have any wits left to keep. They’d be splattered on the pavement along with the rest of his sorry excuse for a brain.
He forced that particular bit of lovely imagery to the side when he heard footsteps however. He held his breath, despite his desperate need for more oxygen, and squished his back as far into the brick wall as it would go. It didn’t go very far before it began screaming at him. Damn, that hurt! He involuntarily let out a hiss, instantly regretting it when the footsteps halted just on the other side of the corner. His eyes widened. He definitely did not want to go through that a second time. With a huge gulp of air, he charged down the alley and hopped over the fence at the other side just in time to evade an onslaught of disgusting, orange sludge that had surged into his make-shift hiding spot.
When he landed, unfortunately, was the moment he remembered that he really shouldn’t be charging down alley ways or hopping fences in his condition. A shocking jolt of pain wound its way up his side, and he toppled over, taking in sharp, straining breaths. Dammit! He needed to keep moving if he was going to make it through this, but it was becoming rather difficult to do so as the wound on his side grew with every, aching breath.
Slowly, he lifted himself back to his feet with his left hand, the right one hanging uselessly at his side. Well, what was left of it anyway. His left moved instinctually back to his side, but he had to stop himself from touching it.
So stupid.
Cursing just about everything he could think to, he hobbled away before the fence melted into itself. He did not want to be around when that happened. He wasn’t even sure what was keeping him moving anymore. Oh. Right. He had promised, hadn’t he? A bitter chuckle released itself painfully from his lips as his fingers wrapped around a pole, using it to push himself forward. He’d really have to stop doing that.
If it hadn’t been for that no-good, aggravating, idiotic punk none of this would have happened. It was supposed to be nothing more than routine, dammit! The hollow wasn’t even of menos class. This was pathetic. He was pathetic. What the hell had that hollow done to him anyway?
Well, he had a basic idea. Obviously that orange sludge was some sort of corrosive chemical, perhaps a form of acid. But that didn’t help the fact that his entire right side was covered in the stuff. In all honesty, it only made it worse.
Yet again, his thoughts were interrupted when the footsteps returned. Oh, crap. Last time, he had at least had some cover, even if it had been blown. But now he was out in the open for all to see, a veritable all-you-can-eat buffet. He tried to move faster but failed miserably. Well, that was why they had separated in the first place, after all. Oh yes, there would definitely be no more promises. In the end, all he could do was pull Hyourinmaru out of its sheath with his left hand and hope beyond hope that he’d be able to avoid that sludge.
That brainless, completely incompetent imbecile! That ignorant, thick-headed, mentally-challenged excuse for a sentient soul! Yes, that’s exactly the first thing you need to do when you meet a deranged monster out to eat you! Throw a rock at it! And then when someone saves you from your fate, run off to who knows where to become an appetizer for yet another hungry hollow! For the love of…! This was not what he was paid to do.
Actually, it was.
Well then. Maybe it really was time to quit. Or at least take a vacation. Matsumoto would back him up. She’d probably insist on going with him. Oh, right. Matsumoto. The promise.
His grip on Hyourinmaru’s hilt tightened as the hollow came into view. It certainly was one of the less attractive ones he’d come across. Its skin could hardly be labeled as such, more like a collective of boiling garbage, and its body was more reminiscent of a fat toad than anything else. Despite its bulk, its four, webbed feet padded softly along the street until those beady, black eyes within its skull-shaped mask locked onto his location. It really wasn’t hard. He was standing in the center of an intersection.
“The little shinigami’s stopped running,” it croaked as if talking to itself. “But it’s not with the lady friend anymore. Did the lady friend run away like the food?”
Hitsugaya steeled himself, taking a deep, painful breath before meeting the hollow’s gaze. He raised Hyourinmaru so that the blade’s point was directed between its masked eyes. “Matsumoto would never run away. I ordered her to leave.”
“I don’t think the lady friend will come back. Even if it does, I’ll have already eaten the little shinigami.”
“Not a chance,” he growled even though his legs could barely support his weight anymore. “We promised. She promised she’d come back. And I promised I’d be waiting.”
“The little shinigami is funny,” the hollow chuckled. “But now I want to eat it.”
Hitsugaya’s eyes widened as it opened its gaping mouth, and the sludge came spraying out toward him. He tumbled to the side, rolling out of the way. Unfortunately, sludge doesn’t just disappear after it has been projectile vomited out of a hollow’s mouth. The ooze seeped along the ground like lava, proving that this particular obstacle was not going to be easily bypassed. He couldn’t jump in the state he was in. The burning, seething sensation was dripping ever downward toward his thigh as the wound continued to increase in size and pain.
He was trapped.
“The little shinigami will taste better than the old food,” the hollow licked its non-existent lips before readying another pumpkin-colored flood.
And consequently getting its mask split in two.
“Nobody’s allowed to mess with my Taichou except for me!”
Despite it all, Hitsugaya felt an aggravated vein in his forehead pop. “What was that?” he grunted.
“Ah! Taichou!” Matsumoto Rangiku called out gleefully, running over to him once the hollow’s sludge had begun to dissipate. When she got close enough to see his condition, however, she froze, pale eyes wide. His arm along with most of the right side of his torso was literally sizzling as the skin boiled aside to make the gaping wound visible. There was no blood, though she couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. “Taichou! I-I…”
“Kept your promise,” the smaller shinigami finished curtly.
“And so did you.” She smiled weakly, though her eyes never left Hitsugaya’s hollowed out side.
“M-Matsumoto,” he began hesitantly.
“Yes, Taichou?” she quickly responded. Had he just … stuttered?
“I … uh … can’t move.”
“Do you need me to carry you, Taichou?”
“That would … help.”
A small smirk poked its way along her lips despite herself as she carefully picked Hitsugaya up, carrying him bridal style and doing her best to avoid the wounds. She couldn’t imagine the pain he must be trying so desperately to hide from her, and she could only hope Inoue Orihime would be able to put a stop to it, but something about the sudden change in her taichou’s features from tense and serious to loose and sleepy seemed to tell her everything would be all right. And that gave her the courage to make sure she got him back to safety as soon as possible.
“Matsumoto,” she heard him whisper.
“Yes, Taichou?”
“If anyone asks, it was an adjuchas.”
My next few entries will probably end up being rather short. Even I have to get off the computer sometimes. x3
Title: Until the Next Promise
Artist/Author: zoldyck_fan, windlily, “Hey, you!”
Prompt: #3 promise
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / some language, disturbing visuals (?)
~*~
Until the Next Promise
~*~
It had been the right thing to do. He had stood by not only his career’s requirements but his own personal morals as well. If he hadn’t done what he had, the outcome would have been even worse. He knew it was true. He knew it was all true.
So why did he have the sudden urge to quit his job, scrap his morals, and screw it all?
Gnawing on his lips, he tried to calm himself down. This was no time to get angry. He needed to keep his wits about himself or else he wouldn’t have any wits left to keep. They’d be splattered on the pavement along with the rest of his sorry excuse for a brain.
He forced that particular bit of lovely imagery to the side when he heard footsteps however. He held his breath, despite his desperate need for more oxygen, and squished his back as far into the brick wall as it would go. It didn’t go very far before it began screaming at him. Damn, that hurt! He involuntarily let out a hiss, instantly regretting it when the footsteps halted just on the other side of the corner. His eyes widened. He definitely did not want to go through that a second time. With a huge gulp of air, he charged down the alley and hopped over the fence at the other side just in time to evade an onslaught of disgusting, orange sludge that had surged into his make-shift hiding spot.
When he landed, unfortunately, was the moment he remembered that he really shouldn’t be charging down alley ways or hopping fences in his condition. A shocking jolt of pain wound its way up his side, and he toppled over, taking in sharp, straining breaths. Dammit! He needed to keep moving if he was going to make it through this, but it was becoming rather difficult to do so as the wound on his side grew with every, aching breath.
Slowly, he lifted himself back to his feet with his left hand, the right one hanging uselessly at his side. Well, what was left of it anyway. His left moved instinctually back to his side, but he had to stop himself from touching it.
So stupid.
Cursing just about everything he could think to, he hobbled away before the fence melted into itself. He did not want to be around when that happened. He wasn’t even sure what was keeping him moving anymore. Oh. Right. He had promised, hadn’t he? A bitter chuckle released itself painfully from his lips as his fingers wrapped around a pole, using it to push himself forward. He’d really have to stop doing that.
If it hadn’t been for that no-good, aggravating, idiotic punk none of this would have happened. It was supposed to be nothing more than routine, dammit! The hollow wasn’t even of menos class. This was pathetic. He was pathetic. What the hell had that hollow done to him anyway?
Well, he had a basic idea. Obviously that orange sludge was some sort of corrosive chemical, perhaps a form of acid. But that didn’t help the fact that his entire right side was covered in the stuff. In all honesty, it only made it worse.
Yet again, his thoughts were interrupted when the footsteps returned. Oh, crap. Last time, he had at least had some cover, even if it had been blown. But now he was out in the open for all to see, a veritable all-you-can-eat buffet. He tried to move faster but failed miserably. Well, that was why they had separated in the first place, after all. Oh yes, there would definitely be no more promises. In the end, all he could do was pull Hyourinmaru out of its sheath with his left hand and hope beyond hope that he’d be able to avoid that sludge.
That brainless, completely incompetent imbecile! That ignorant, thick-headed, mentally-challenged excuse for a sentient soul! Yes, that’s exactly the first thing you need to do when you meet a deranged monster out to eat you! Throw a rock at it! And then when someone saves you from your fate, run off to who knows where to become an appetizer for yet another hungry hollow! For the love of…! This was not what he was paid to do.
Actually, it was.
Well then. Maybe it really was time to quit. Or at least take a vacation. Matsumoto would back him up. She’d probably insist on going with him. Oh, right. Matsumoto. The promise.
His grip on Hyourinmaru’s hilt tightened as the hollow came into view. It certainly was one of the less attractive ones he’d come across. Its skin could hardly be labeled as such, more like a collective of boiling garbage, and its body was more reminiscent of a fat toad than anything else. Despite its bulk, its four, webbed feet padded softly along the street until those beady, black eyes within its skull-shaped mask locked onto his location. It really wasn’t hard. He was standing in the center of an intersection.
“The little shinigami’s stopped running,” it croaked as if talking to itself. “But it’s not with the lady friend anymore. Did the lady friend run away like the food?”
Hitsugaya steeled himself, taking a deep, painful breath before meeting the hollow’s gaze. He raised Hyourinmaru so that the blade’s point was directed between its masked eyes. “Matsumoto would never run away. I ordered her to leave.”
“I don’t think the lady friend will come back. Even if it does, I’ll have already eaten the little shinigami.”
“Not a chance,” he growled even though his legs could barely support his weight anymore. “We promised. She promised she’d come back. And I promised I’d be waiting.”
“The little shinigami is funny,” the hollow chuckled. “But now I want to eat it.”
Hitsugaya’s eyes widened as it opened its gaping mouth, and the sludge came spraying out toward him. He tumbled to the side, rolling out of the way. Unfortunately, sludge doesn’t just disappear after it has been projectile vomited out of a hollow’s mouth. The ooze seeped along the ground like lava, proving that this particular obstacle was not going to be easily bypassed. He couldn’t jump in the state he was in. The burning, seething sensation was dripping ever downward toward his thigh as the wound continued to increase in size and pain.
He was trapped.
“The little shinigami will taste better than the old food,” the hollow licked its non-existent lips before readying another pumpkin-colored flood.
And consequently getting its mask split in two.
“Nobody’s allowed to mess with my Taichou except for me!”
Despite it all, Hitsugaya felt an aggravated vein in his forehead pop. “What was that?” he grunted.
“Ah! Taichou!” Matsumoto Rangiku called out gleefully, running over to him once the hollow’s sludge had begun to dissipate. When she got close enough to see his condition, however, she froze, pale eyes wide. His arm along with most of the right side of his torso was literally sizzling as the skin boiled aside to make the gaping wound visible. There was no blood, though she couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. “Taichou! I-I…”
“Kept your promise,” the smaller shinigami finished curtly.
“And so did you.” She smiled weakly, though her eyes never left Hitsugaya’s hollowed out side.
“M-Matsumoto,” he began hesitantly.
“Yes, Taichou?” she quickly responded. Had he just … stuttered?
“I … uh … can’t move.”
“Do you need me to carry you, Taichou?”
“That would … help.”
A small smirk poked its way along her lips despite herself as she carefully picked Hitsugaya up, carrying him bridal style and doing her best to avoid the wounds. She couldn’t imagine the pain he must be trying so desperately to hide from her, and she could only hope Inoue Orihime would be able to put a stop to it, but something about the sudden change in her taichou’s features from tense and serious to loose and sleepy seemed to tell her everything would be all right. And that gave her the courage to make sure she got him back to safety as soon as possible.
“Matsumoto,” she heard him whisper.
“Yes, Taichou?”
“If anyone asks, it was an adjuchas.”