Lullaby [#6] [Kenchiru] [Bleach]
Title :: Lullaby
Theme :: #6, ‘piggyback ride’ [15pairings]
Pairing :: Kenpachi/Yachiru
Rating :: PG
Wordcount :: 300
Summary :: The bells were like her own personal lullaby.
The bells were like her own personal lullaby.
Or the closest thing she had to one, anyway. Her Ken-chan didn’t sing; there was only the shrieking of his blade as it bit and sank into flesh, sometimes splattering her with pretty colours (crimson, Fairy-san had told her once, the most beautiful of all) if she stood too close.
But she had the bells.
No matter how fast he ran, no matter how much she was jarred on his back, the sound of them always managed to soothe her. It wasn’t the sound itself, she supposed - it was irregular, jarring, intended to warn and terrify. But rather, it was what it represented.
As long as she was holding onto him, as long as she was pressed close enough to hear them jangling chaotically in her ears, she was safe.
As far as Kusajishi Yachiru was concerned, safety did not mean away from danger.
It meant simply, not facing it alone.
(It meant, Ken-chan is here.)
That was all.
She didn’t quite have the words yet, still too young and raised to look at the world too simply; and so she could not articulate the quiet warmth she felt, that had nothing to do with Kenpachi’s shared body heat.
If she could, perhaps she would have called it “home.”
Perhaps even, “love.”
(She’d asked Fairy-san once - he seemed the one most likely to answer insensible questions, after all - and he’d only laughed, low in his throat and eyes lighting. No. It’s more beautiful when you find out on your own.)
If she ever did, maybe she’d whisper the words into his shoulder, trusting her lullaby to mask the sound.
Maybe he’d hear them anyway, and they’d be just as much of a comfort to him.
Anything, so long as it was theirs.
Theme :: #6, ‘piggyback ride’ [15pairings]
Pairing :: Kenpachi/Yachiru
Rating :: PG
Wordcount :: 300
Summary :: The bells were like her own personal lullaby.
The bells were like her own personal lullaby.
Or the closest thing she had to one, anyway. Her Ken-chan didn’t sing; there was only the shrieking of his blade as it bit and sank into flesh, sometimes splattering her with pretty colours (crimson, Fairy-san had told her once, the most beautiful of all) if she stood too close.
But she had the bells.
No matter how fast he ran, no matter how much she was jarred on his back, the sound of them always managed to soothe her. It wasn’t the sound itself, she supposed - it was irregular, jarring, intended to warn and terrify. But rather, it was what it represented.
As long as she was holding onto him, as long as she was pressed close enough to hear them jangling chaotically in her ears, she was safe.
As far as Kusajishi Yachiru was concerned, safety did not mean away from danger.
It meant simply, not facing it alone.
(It meant, Ken-chan is here.)
That was all.
She didn’t quite have the words yet, still too young and raised to look at the world too simply; and so she could not articulate the quiet warmth she felt, that had nothing to do with Kenpachi’s shared body heat.
If she could, perhaps she would have called it “home.”
Perhaps even, “love.”
(She’d asked Fairy-san once - he seemed the one most likely to answer insensible questions, after all - and he’d only laughed, low in his throat and eyes lighting. No. It’s more beautiful when you find out on your own.)
If she ever did, maybe she’d whisper the words into his shoulder, trusting her lullaby to mask the sound.
Maybe he’d hear them anyway, and they’d be just as much of a comfort to him.
Anything, so long as it was theirs.