Do Words Make a Bit of Difference?

Urahara was needlessly cruel to Inoue the next day, disparaging her skills and making her feel useless. All she’d wanted to do was to become stronger, like we all were trying to do. No, he mocked her for even thinking she’d a right to fight with the rest of us. I wanted to offer her whatever comfort I could, but I didn’t have it in me. I felt empty, wrung dry of any emotion. Rukia and I had pretty much kept up the friendly facade during that meeting with Urahara, acted like nothing had happened, like we were really friends.

After, because of a bargain I'd struck with Urahara, I found myself with Chad. We spent hours upon hours in the cavernous basement; me improving my bankai and him finding his true powers. They were quite impressive, and once he started getting a real handle on them it wasn’t just him dodging Zabimaru, it was me dodging his blasts of raw energy.

I'm not going to lie, I was relieved when Rukia took off for the Soul Society with Inoue in tow. Actually, I was just desperately glad she was gone, the source of my shame and guilt, my secret, my love. She’d be safe there, I told myself in those few moments I allowed myself to think of her. I’d have to have a deeply mortifying conversation with my captain when I finally went back. I wondered how much of an explanation he’d require, if he’d ask any questions or if Rukia had already told him she’d refuse me, how many lies I’d have to tell. I’d realized after that horrible night in the van that she may care, but it wasn’t enough, not enough to call love.

They call that irony, don’t they? After all the women I’d fucked, here was one I’d die for, I’d live for- and she only wanted me for my body. I couldn’t believe how far I’d let myself go, how twisted I’d allowed myself to become and for whom, for what? An ill-defined emotion I probably only imagined feeling? Definitely time to let it go, whatever the ‘it’ was I felt for Rukia. It was so not good for either of us, well the sex was, but the aftermath was awful. I shoved it all down, every stupid feeling, every memory of her taste, her scent and the feel of her skin, packed it all away in a metaphorical box. I buried that box under a mountain of duty and obligation.

It was easier to move on after that, easier to get up and face another day of training, easier to face myself in the mirror. The constant aches and pains from training proved to be further distractions. Chad, the huge human friend of Ichigo, proved to be the prefect companion, talking only when absolutely necessary. I meditated every chance I got, communing to Zabimaru, who for once didn’t tease or try to pry information from my about ‘my latest conquest’. I felt stronger, more competent every passing day.

I told myself the taste in my mouth every morning was nothing, that the wet dreams were just a result of too much adrenaline in my blood stream from the training. Almost a month had passed and I felt better than fine, I felt awesome- like a new man. Chad and I had just sat down for a rest from our training when the next Arrancar attack occurred. We both tried to leave the underground training facility, but Urahara stopped us. Said we were too drained from training to do much good.

All that training, all that effort for nothing. I felt utterly useless- again. Urahara was right, which made the situation even worse. I hated it when that fuckin’ asshole was right. So Chad and I sat in the overgrown basement waiting for our time to shine. It killed me to sit while my comrades were fighting up top, I could feel the changes in their spiritual pressure and knew they could use my help. Shit, they could use any help they could get. Ichigo was getting pounded by one of the Arrancars, his reiatsu flaring and dipping low. I felt Rukia show up and come to the kid’s aid. I tried to ignore the need to rush to her side, the totally irrational spurt of jealousy. Gods, it costs so much, too much, to love.

I was just about to insist that I needed out, that even in my weakened condition I could be of at very least minimal assistance, when the battle came to an abrupt end. I wondered if the Arrancars were just gauging our strength, fucking with us or if they had some ulterior motive we hadn’t yet figured out. It wouldn’t do to underestimate their sneakiness and general deceitful nature. After all, a most of them had been made by the master of unscrupulous schemes, Aizen.

I’m the first to admit thinking isn’t necessarily my strong suit. I’m generally more of the act-first, ask-questions-later type. I’d always assumed that was a more of a benefit than a detriment in my line of work, which is generally fighting hollows, performing the odd soul burial and the like. But the enemy we were facing now required more, and I wasn’t sure if all the training in the world would be enough. I wasn’t the guy who was called upon when someone needed to be outsmarted, I was the guy called to kick some ass. I don’t like to think that I’m stupid, being what they tend to call ‘street smart’, but I was afraid I wasn’t smart enough to know what would have to be done.

I waited for Urahara and Chad to leave before I freaked out. All the anger and uncertainty just came pouring out in a great big wave of violence and I pounded the rocky outcropping I’d been propped up against till it was reduced to rubble and my hands were bleeding. After my little tantrum I felt moderately better, but I needed something else. A drink, a fight, to get laid… anything to take my mind off of everything. I needed to get away from the freaking store, from Urahara, from everybody.

I slipped upstairs and into my lifeless looking gigai. I felt in my pockets for the strange papers that passed for money and the pack of smokes. My hands still hurt like hell, but being in the faux body stopped the bleeding. I felt bad for not sticking around for the inevitable debriefing, but I couldn’t handle that right then.

I walked and smoked, no specific destination in mind. I just wanted to find a bar, some place that served alcohol and had the minimal amount of people. I finally found a half deserted rat hole down an alley that seemed to suit my needs. The floor was sticky, the music pumped loudly from tinny sounding speakers and the air was hazy with smoke. If there had been loose, slutty women it would have been heaven, but unfortunately there was only one identifiable woman in the place. As my luck would have it she may have been Captain-Commander Yamamoto’s twin, except for the tits which looked like two bolted on oranges attached to her thin frame. Seriously, she even had a whisp of a beard. If I had given more than a cursory glance, it probably would have severely freaked me out.

I dropped heavily on to a stool at the bar, away from the other customers clustered around tables gambling and talking. I signaled the squat man behind the bar and mouthed sake when he stared at me. A cup flew across the bar and I dipped my head to light a cigarette. After blowing out the lungful of smoke, I took a sip from my cup.

The sake they served tasted like stove-cleaner and burned fiercely on the way down. The barkeep seemed to know without asking that I needed refills and he kept them coming. The other patrons gave me a wide berth, not even glancing my way after I’d taken my seat. That was just fine with me, not being in any mood for polite chit-chat.

I must’ve smoked nearly the whole pack of cigarettes and only the gods knew how much sake I’d consumed when the door slammed open. All I knew was that I was comfortably numb, pleasantly buzzed, and nearly completely oblivious to my problems. I snarled and I might have snapped my teeth, just a little, when someone tapped my shoulder.

“Come on, Renji,” a feminine voice said insistently, “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

Of course they’d send her to fetch me. Why not? “Oh, I’m jus’ gettin’ started, so ya might as well scurry on back, an’ tell them I’m not quite ready to play nice jus’ yet.” I really hated being manipulated, and seeing as there was still sake to be had, I intended on drinking as much as I could. Falling down drunk seemed like a wonderful way to spend the night, and Rukia wouldn’t be able to sway me from my course, no matter what Urahara thought.

“Renji,” she said quietly as she sat heavily on the stool next to mine, “I didn’t come here because I was asked to. I came because… we need to talk.”

“Wha’? Is Ichigo busy, or somethin’?” I asked her bitterly, forgetting momentarily that I had boxed away all those stupid emotions and that jealousy was unbecoming.

“What on earth are you going on about?” she asked as the bartender left the rest of the bottle of sake on the bar in front of me. Perhaps he was sick of pouring my drinks, but whatever the reason, it suited me fine.

I snorted in disbelief; did she think I was dumb? Through the haze of alcohol clouding my mind, I believed I’d figured it out. She didn’t love me, she loved him, the orange-haired boy who’d come to her rescue. Me? She just used me for experience. “Ya think I’m too stupid to figure it out, Rukia? Huh? I know your little secret,” I hissed in her face. She flinched away, and waved her hand in front of her nose.

“Your breath stinks, Renji. You’re drunk and talking nonsense, now let’s go, please,” she looked away, towards the door.

“No,” I said simply as I poured another cup of sake and drank it.

“No?” the incredulity of her voice was simply fantastic. She wasn’t used to being denied. How do you like it? I thought nastily.

“Nope,” I reiterated pleasantly and repeated the pouring and drinking process, “there’s still sake in the bottle, so no.”

I was surprised when she snatched the bottle off of the rough wooden counter. I was even more surprised when she drank the rest of the contents in one go. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and banged the empty bottle decisively down. I saw that her eyes were watering slightly, but she kept a straight face as she pulled a small stack of bills from a rabbit-shaped purse and put them next to the bottle.

“Now, you are coming with me, Renji, one way or the other. We have things to discuss,” she sounded so determined, and looked like she was fed up. I shook my head slowly; I wanted to stay right where we were. Surely, I thought, there must be more sake somewhere in the bar. She grabbed my ear and yanked me off of my stool. I tried to get free, but every move I made felt like it might tear off my damn ear. It was humiliating, but I followed her out of the bar.

We were out of the alley before she finally released her death grip from my ear. The relief was incredible, and I stood there for a moment, swaying on my feet and rubbing the side of my head. I really wanted to make a break for the bar, but I didn’t, figuring that she’d just come after me again. “Wha’ d’ya wan’, Rukia?” I asked heavily.

“Come on, we’ll walk to the river. I don’t want to do this in the middle of the street,” she answered.

I estimated the chances for running away successfully at zero. She was small, but fast and sneaky. I was too messed up to escape with any sort of favorable outcome, so I followed her lead through the streets of Karakura town. I was panting and my mouth was dry by the time Rukia stopped. Stupid freaking gigai couldn’t hold its liquor and I felt like I had to puke. She plopped down on the grass with none of her usual grace and looked up at me till I did the same. I faced the river rather than her.

“What is going on with you, Renji? I, hic, mean seriously, please, as your friend…” I interrupted her little speech with near hysterical laughter.

“Oh, tha’s rich Rukia! Friends? Nah, we ain’t been friends for almost fifty years. I fucked that up but good, didn’t I?” I stretched my legs out and lay back, looking at the few stars that peaked through the hazy sky. I wanted it all to go away; I wanted to be alone to wallow in my misery. That didn’t make alright for me to make her feel like shit though.

“Look, I get it, ok? I get that ya don’t feel the same way I do, and that’s jus' fine. Really it is, or it will be, or I dunno. I do know that right now… Right now I jus' need to be alone.”

“No, Renji, we are going to talk about this, hic, like adults. What the fuck were you talking about back, hic, there when you were babbling about Ichigo?”

I felt like whining, begging, pleading, whatever it took to get out of this horrifying situation. “Ya know, I, uhm, well, see, the thing is I can tell, Rukia. I know you’re into him, or whatever, and that,” really fucking sucked… “ah, he’s really into you, too. I’m trying really hard to be ok with that. I jus’, I’m…” shit my throat was closing and my eyes were watering. I was either going to cry or throw up, or maybe a combination of both. I put my hands over my face and concentrated on the damp, cool grass beneath me.

“You are an ass, hic, Renji Abarai, a huge, ginormous ass. You know I’m into him? And how do you know that? What, did you use your super psychic, hic, ultra skillful powers of deduction? Give me a break!” she shouted. The liquor had affected her more than she let on, if the little hiccups interrupting her words were any indication.

“Damnit, Rukia, what am I supposed to think, huh? Ya hang around him all the time, talking, laughing, touching. I’ve fucked ya and ya don’t look at me the way ya look at him!” I couldn’t help it. I tried to keep it all locked up, but the words seemed to come pouring out of my mouth of their own accord. Vomit was a threatening warmth stabbing at the back of my throat. Perhaps if I allowed it to just spew out, I would stop making such a fool of myself.

“You’re jealous? Of, hic, Ichigo? Renji,” her voice was softer, and she drew my name out like a caress.

I allowed her to move my hands off my face, but kept my eyes closed, scared of what expression her face would hold if I looked up. I felt foolish, revealing what I did. I had done so well distancing myself and now it was crashing back full force.

“Renji?” I felt her breath across my face, smelled the sake she’d drank at the bar. “Look at me,” she commanded in the soft tone I was never able to resist.

I opened my eyes to see her face inches from my own, deep in shadow, only the faintest traces of violet visible in her eyes. Her hand stroked its way down my face and I shuddered at the faint touch. It was so embarrassing to be so weak for this small woman. She had a hold on me, on every part of me and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to change that. Sake breath washed over me delicately and I wondered if I would really change that even if I could.

“What d'ya wan' from me, Rukia?” I asked her, the plaintive note in my voice irking the everlasting crap out of me. If the few visible stars weren’t darting alarmingly across the sky, I would have run.

She sighed heavily and her hand skittered across my face, small, chilly fingers touching my tattoos and brushing across my lips. “I don’t know,” she finally answered as she leaned away from me. I missed her nearness as soon as it was gone; disgusted that she’d reduced me to this quivering, yearning boy so easily.

I sat up, dizzy, nauseous and angry. She stared at the flowing water of the river, a breeze plucking at the lock of hair that bisected her forehead. “I can’t do this,” I whispered to myself more than anything. It was past time I admitted it. Stupid, futile, naïve.

“I need you, Renji,” she finally whispered back. I was the king of stupid, futile and naïve. I knew this because those four words filled me, brimful, of hope.

I got to my knees, flashing back to the last time I’d been in front of her like that, offering marriage, offering myself. My hand was buried in the black silk of her hair before I’d realized what I’d done. Her sharp intake of breath opened her mouth and I took advantage of that to kiss her roughly. I held her in place by my grip in her hair as my tongue dove into her mouth. Her moan was all mine, my prize and I stored it in the same box I put all of the other shit I felt for her.

I heard a rip, felt smooth, warm skin under the hands that were so unlike my own. Those hands were so smooth and without the scars and nicks my own were laced with, but they were still mine, or rather, my gigai’s. I let go of her lips and looked down. Her t-shirt was torn down the middle, exposing a slim line of pale flesh from her neck to the top of her skirt. I pushed one half of the shirt over, completely enthralled as her breast was revealed. She hadn’t bothered with binding her breasts in the traditional fashion or with western underwear.

The hand in her hair, my hand, pulled sharply, displaying the white column of her neck. The moon showed everything in stark relief. The pulse hammering in her neck. The tiny threads at the frayed edge of the tear in her shirt. The bones of her sternum pushing through her skin. The rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. The puckered nipple topping the small breast.

I lowered my mouth to the side of her neck, breathing in and out, in and out and felt the shiver which passed through her as if it was my own body. I bit down. My canines were too long even in the gigai, and I felt them pierce her skin before the rest of my teeth settled on her flesh. She shuddered and my cock twitched in pants too tight to accommodate the growth it had done at the sight of her tits.

Another mistake, another bad decision, another idiotic choice in a whole long line of them. I wondered absurdly, in that distant way drunks have, if I lined them all up whether they would take me to the moon. Would my stupidity take me that far?

Blood, gigai blood tasted different on my fake tongue and I savored the taste, that almost sweet, thick, metallic- like weathered copper smells- taste. I was disconnected, like I watched this happen on a TV set. Her panted breaths, her scrambling fingers on my shoulders, was it just another dream? Would I wake up sticky from a release that was as empty as her feelings for me?

My fingers strummed relentlessly at the pink peak and dizziness overcame me again. I pulled her to the ground by her hair, falling on top of her. She grunted and my teeth were dislodged from the spot I’d carved in her skin. I shifted to the other side of her neck and made a twin to the mark I’d abandoned, relishing her silent acquiescence.

The hand I’d been touching her breast with moved down her stomach, between her legs to where my hips were cradled. I fiddled with the button to my jeans, that novelty that I never quite got used to, but somehow gave me no trouble and opened as if by sheer force of will. The zipper made a scratching sound and I dug in the split created at the front of the jeans for my dick.

I slipped my penis through the fly of my boxer briefs, the curious undergarments that were strangely comfortable. Speed seemed suddenly of the essence. Completely heedless of the sounds of human civilization all around us, cars speeding by, planes roaring in the sky, distant voices, I rucked her skirt up to her stomach. I slid my fingers in the waist band of her panties, but in deference to the urgency I felt, decided to tear them off rather than take the time to pull them off. She yelped in surprise and tried to push me off, her hands on my shoulders shoving against my weight.

I yanked useless fabric between her legs off and threw it carelessly to the side. I positioned myself at her wet entrance and forced myself into that tight heat I craved. Her keening cries echoed in my brain, empty now of any thoughts other than thrust and withdrawal. I felt her head moving side to side in the palm of my hand. I gripped her skull tighter, forcing her to be still. My other hand dug into the grass, into the dirt beneath as I shoved myself relentlessly deeper inside her. The retreat was almost as sweet as the advance. Her hips lifted to meet mine and I sighed into her neck.

I shook from exertion, stroked slowly in and almost out, dwindling from man to need. I had to have more and the slow pace I’d kept became faster. I pounded into her and relished that her body arched into mine that her wordless cries had morphed into pleas for more. I would come soon, my gigai completely without stamina and was unable to keep up with my spirit. Her insides flexed around me and I knew she would come soon too.

It was over in a flash of brilliantly colored lights. My muscles seized up and my spine curled up and back. My teeth were torn from her neck and I roared loudly, tasting blood and smelling sweat and sake and sperm and her. She pulsed around my length, messaging me, milking me, wringing me dry. Then it was over and I collapsed on top of her. I knew I was crushing her but my strength had deserted me and I just didn’t have it in me to move. All I could do was suck in breath after breath.

She shoved me off of her, and I heard her scramble in the grass, heard her wretch next to me. I glanced over to see her on her knees, convulsing, thin trickles of liquid streaming from her mouth. The sweet and sour scent of regurgitated alcohol lingered in the air for a moment until the breeze took it away. I sat up, tucked myself back into my boxer-things, zipped up my pants and crawled over to her.

Something white caught my attention out the corner of my eye, her panties. I snatched them up, the ripped cotton soft between my fingers before I rammed them in my pocket. I tried not to think about how perverted and wrong it was. Instead, I ran my hand up and down her back, trying to sooth her as I had done when we were children and she had gotten sick off of bad fish.

When she eventually sat back down, she was sweating and her eyes were dripping tears. I could hear her breath, it sounded wet and like sobs. “I’m sorry,” I murmured. And I was, so sorry. Sorry for not protecting her, sorry for placing duty above her, sorry for fucking her, sorry for loving her, sorry, sorry, sorry. Useless, just like me.

With more coordination than I thought possible, I picked her up. Even in her gigai she weighed next to nothing. I wasn’t as familiar with Karakura as Rukia and while I could have followed the distinctive reiatsu’s of Ichigo’s little sisters to his home, I didn’t know how I would explain her obvious drunken sickness. Isshin Kurosaki was a lot of things, but despite his goofiness, stupid was not one of them. I headed in the direction of Urahara and Tessai’s reiatsu instead. I had the thought that she could take my bedroll for the night and I’d sleep outside or something.

The walk was exhausting, and my arms started to shake long before I reached my destination, but I made it there without incident. She’d passed out, limp like a doll with her head lolling against my chest sometime during the walk, but she woke the instant I put her down. Her eyes were wide and frightened in the darkness, and she grabbed my arm as I attempted to leave. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered hoarsely.

I sat next to her. I held her hand. I waited patiently for her to fall asleep. I tried to leave when her breath finally evened out. Her grasp on my hand tightened painfully and she snorted inelegantly. She looked so young, younger than I’d seen her look in over a century and a half, since before Yori died and I wondered if it was the gigai that made her seem so innocent. I closed my eyes and leaned back, supporting myself against the wall behind me.

~*~

Another long chapter... Another hard chapter to write. I keep wanting to lighten this up somehow, but my muse is foiling every attempt I make. Agh.

This'll probably be the last chapter I update for about a week or so. I've got another few irons in the fire, which I've been neglecting in order to focus on trying to finish this up. That doesn't seem to be happening right yet, it just keeps growing and getting longer every time I sit down and fiddle with it. It's already a bit longer than I intended, but hey, I've mostly enjoyed writing it, so I won't complain.

So, I have to thank Pink Floyd for the chapter title, as well as the do obligatory mention that I don't own the song or make any money from it. I know... SHOCKING.

Review- FTW.