Fairytale Ending [Bleach, Ichigo/Rukia, PG-13]

[echoinautumn.livejournal.com]

Title: Fairytale Ending
Author: soleil_de_lune
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence, angst, character death
Prompt: Ichigo/Rukia: roughness; "love is a battlefield"
Word count: 1206
Summary: If this was how it had to be, he wouldn't have it any other way with any other person.
Note: This sort of wrote itself after a certain point. I had intended to go in a completely different direction, and before I knew it, I'd already finished the story with a completely different plot than I had intended. I suppose this is just one of those cases... I might try to take a second stab at the prompt tonight to see if I can get something a little less... angst-y out of it. I actually don't know when or in what universe this would conceivably happen, but the prompts sort of inspired the idea of "Well, what if Rukia had to try and kill Ichigo?"

 

It was cold out, but not even the biting air could compare to the chilly expression on her face as she stared him down from across the distance between them. The moonlit schoolyard was empty and all the better for it.

“So it’s come to this?” Ichigo remarked, drawing his sword from his back with an unreadable expression. It was a futile question, and he knew it. Of course it had come to this. He’d known for ages that he could hardly be allowed to exist past his usefulness, which had run up after Aizen’s defeat. What he hadn’t expected was for the shinigami to send Rukia, of all people, to take care of their problem.

Rukia. It was a slap in the face, not just to him but to her and the shared emotions between them. It hurt more to imagine fighting her than to imagine dying.

“Did you really expect for things to turn out any other way, Ichigo?” She was drawing her sword, releasing it to the blinding white purity and holding it out in challenge to him.

He clenched his own sword tightly and felt a twist of regret in his heart. “You don’t think you can beat me, Rukia.” It was supposed to come out as a gentle statement, to coax her into lowering her sword and remind her that—despite her orders to eliminate him—he was still the same Ichigo she cared about. Instead, it came out as a brash challenge of her power.

She bristled a bit at this and tightened her grip on the sword. “I’m sure I can, Ichigo. I know you. I know your weaknesses.”

Fighting the urge to throw his sword to the ground, his eyes hardened. The Gotei 13 certainly knew his strength, and yet they had sent Rukia rather than any of the captains. Rukia, who did know him. Rukia… The twist in his heart was back, tying knots in his chest that tightened with every passing moment.

“Then why do we have to do this? You know me.”

She took a few steps toward him, never once wavering with her sword stance. “I know you’re dangerous, Ichigo.”

In less than an instant, he was in front of her, slamming her minute form against the brick wall of the building. His face was inches from hers, his body pressing hers against the cold stone. “When have I ever been dangerous to anyone who didn’t deserve it? When have I ever gone against what was right?” He shoved her into the wall again, certain that whatever harm it was causing her could hardly compare to the one in his chest. “When have I ever threatened you, Rukia?”

She shoved at him, managing only to push him back a few inches. “Hadou 63.” She gasped, and the blast of lightning caught Ichigo in the chest, propelling him away from her. He skidded and rolled a few meters before a tree stopped him cold with a sickening crunch.

His zanpakutou lay in the dirt, unassuming and powerless when separated from Ichigo. She stepped past it and stopped next to his bleeding form. “The spell wasn’t half as powerful as it should have been. Get up, Ichigo.” Her tone was as cold as the air around him as she pressed the tip of blade to his chest.

He opened a single eye to meet hers. “Just do it, Rukia.”

She pushed harder, the sharp edge breaking the skin. A bead of blood welled to the surface, marring the purity of her zanpakutou, before sliding down his burned chest. “You have to die, Ichigo. You can’t… Vizard… You’re too dangerous.”

“Who are you trying to convince?” He closed his eyes and his head fell back against the trunk of the tree. “If this is what you’re going to do, then do it, idiot.”

Her sword shook for a moment, but she didn’t waver. “Get up, Ichigo.” She repeated.

He gripped the tree trunk and heaved himself to his feet, staring at her blankly. “Now what?”

“I won’t fight an unarmed man.” Rukia gritted out.

“Zangetsu is over there. I can’t fight with kidou. I’m at your mercy.” He reached out and pulled her blade farther into his chest. “You’ve won, Rukia.”

Her facedarkened as she pulled the sword out of his hands, the blade dragging across the burns on his chest. “Stop taunting me, Ichigo.”

“I’m not. I don’t want to fight you. I don’t ever want to fight with you.”

“Ichigo, I…” She never finished the sentence, because his hands were framing her face, pulling her closer and pressing his lips to hers in what could only be a futile effort to show her why he wouldn’t fight.

“No,” She gasped, but her grip on the sword slackened. “They want to kill you. They’ll kill me… really kill me this time, Ichigo. You can’t...”

“Shut up, Rukia. Either kill me or don’t. They picked you because they know I won’t fight you.”

She stared at him, the cold night air utterly silent save for his labored breathing. “Ichi…go…” In a single, fluid motion, the sword slipped from her hand, cutting across her palm and clattering to the ground, and she gripped the tattered remains of his shihakushou. “This can’t end well, Ichigo.”

He tried to shrug it off, to tell her that he didn’t believe in fairy tales and happy endings anyway, but it came out as a half-hearted slump in his shoulders. “I know.”

“If it’s not me, it’ll be someone else who comes to kill you.” She reached up to touch his face with her bleeding hand, smearing a bloody brand across his cheek.

He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. “Then they’ll kill my family,” He whispered. “And they’ll kill you. I’m not worth all this death, Rukia.”

She was glad his eyes were closed, that he couldn’t see the tears streaking paths through the dirt and sweat on her face. “I’m so sorry, Ichigo.” She whispered to his ear, wishing she had the courage to say the three words she meant to say and knowing it was far too little much too late.

While she knelt to pick up her zanpakutou, he raised his eyes to the sky and prayed to himself. “Don’t be sorry, Rukia. Look out for the others for me, okay?”

She choked on her words, pushing memories of another stubborn shinigami she’d had to kill… Ichigo looked so much like him that it hurt. Her hands shook, and he took them into his own.

“Don’t look like that, idiot. Just think of it as one of those stupid stories you like. ‘Once upon a time’ and tragic lovers and all that other crap.” He steadied her hand and positioned the edge over his heart.

She met his eyes and tried to smile, but the expression seemed a grotesque twisting of her face instead. She stood on her toes and kissed him again. “Once upon a time?”

He pulled her hands toward him, sheathing the sword without a grimace; returning the smile with far more sincerity. “And happily ever after.”

She didn’t tell him that the stories she read about tragic lovers never ended quite like this.

End

Comments

[kateison.livejournal.com]

Augh, why has no-one commented on this, it was wonderful.

You've characterized them very well, especially Rukia's attitude toward this whole ordeal.

Fantastic~~

[windrider1.livejournal.com]

Oh, I think I need to go find the shattered little bits of my heart now...

~Wonderful!