That Good Night

A/N: Now that was fast, wasn\'t it. Just one more chapter, the letter from Izuru, then the afterword. And please forgive the occasional misspelled word. My spellchecker seems to have died.



The Last Wave



It started to rain when I left the hospital the next morning. I hadn’t waited for Ishida—or should I say Uryu?—not that I really expected him to show up. He’d wait till I’d finished with Izuru, first.



Except. . . I’d started wondering what—who—was right. I was happy—more than that, even—with Izuru just the day before. I’d said I loved him, hadn’t I? Did that even mean anything now? Had it ever to begin with?



I was young; I was fickle. He knew this, I knew. It is, after all, the habit of the young to toss aside relationships in the same fashion as old clothes—but that just sounds like an excuse. And I’ve never been one for excuses.



What it came down to was my failure to properly interpret my own feelings, and I was hardly the first to be so afflicted. He’d understand; he had to.



No—no, he didn’t. It was my fault, I thought, and not his. I’d strung him along to mask my true feelings I’d been to blind to admit.



But then there was the matter with Renji—



“Watch where you’re walking, you damn brat!” the man shouted from his car—



—which I’d much rather forget, to be honest. It was a sad thing to see a man in such a state, and not something easily forgotten. But he was hardly the first, hardly the last. So it goes.



By the time I found Rukia, it was pouring. But, she informed me, Izuru was already back in town. She didn’t know why; official business, most likely.



Which meant I had to find him, in the rain, to break up with him. How cliché.



He was in a park, the same park as always. My finding him didn’t surprise him. When he felt ready, he stood up to face me. He knew.



“We need to talk,” I said.



“Yes, we do,” he said.



We started to walk. The rain picked up.



“What we have,” I said, “it isn’t healthy.”



“No, it isn’t,” he said. “And for that I apologize.”



“You? I’m the one who should. . .”



“No,” he said. “It’s my fault. I never should have let it get this far. I was supposed to be the responsible one, you know.”



“That doesn’t make it your fault. I practically forced you.”



“But I knew better. I’m a terrible boyfriend—known fact.”



“That’s not true—”



“And how would you know?” he countered.



“You’ve just had bad luck, I’m sure,” I continued. “You’ll find someone eventually.”



“I don’t need you to tell me that.”



I was glad, in a way, it had decided to rain. There’s no crying in the rain, to the observer, unless you’re looking for it—the red-tint eyes, the streaks that just don’t match up.



“Did you even read my letter?” he said.



“What letter?”



“Never mind, just. . . I’m needy,” he said, “and selfish, and I just don’t know how to share like that. I knew that going in. There was no way you’d be able to handle my baggage—no offense, you just aren’t experienced. And especially not when you so obviously were smitten with that guy with the glasses.” He said the last with an uncharacteristically playful smirk.



“It was your smile I loved,” I said. “Still do, in fact.”



“I’ve heard that before.”



“And you’ll hear it again, I’m sure.”



“So, just to be sure: we’re broken up.”



“Well, first, I should say I made out with ‘that guy with the glasses,’ so you know.”



“Oh, I know, and take no offense from it.”



We reached the edge of the park.



“Well, then,” I said. “I don’t really know what to say here.”



“Let’s start with ‘bye,’ for now.”



“Okay. Bye, then.”



“I’ve got to get back to work, anyway. You seen that hollow from the other day?”



“Took care of him last night, actually.”



“That makes my day easier, then,” he said, and he was gone.



And so we approached the denouement. But not quite yet.



Rukia’d been excited by the news, when I’d told her, and I didn’t think it would surprise Chad very much. (It didn’t.)



Which only mostly left Ishida—Uryu, I meant.



And his location wasn’t much of a secret.



The rain still was violent and torrential—I’d need an umbrella. Not to mention a shower. And both of those were home, where next I headed.



It was the same as I\'d left it, my home, and the sight of it relieved me, if only for a while. My room, my bed, my desk—all of it. And—a letter?



Oh. I\'d seen it the other day, I remembered, but hadn\'t read it. And I wouldn\'t now, either. No time. Maybe later. Probably that letter Izuru mentioned.



But for now I really needed that shower.



Warm, running water felt amazing after the cold rain outside, let me tell you. Smooth, it was, and clean, and so many other things. Although I will say my injuries made it more complicated than I would have like. It was a fine shower otherwise, though, and afterwards I felt refreshed enough to prepare for the evening ahead.



Now what to wear, I wondered.



Uryu was waiting for me at his place just like he’d said. Now, I’m not the type to bring flowers, but it was common courtesy to at least pick him up. Because I knew this nice little restaurant almost no one knows about. I was sure he’d love it.



And he did. Or, we both loved up till a hollow decided to announce itself right before what would have been dessert. Oh well.



This was no menos, fortunately, and taking it down was child’s play. But. . . seeing Uryu like that, in the heat of battle, proved too much for me; I couldn’t hold it in any longer. And I would have kissed him right then and there if he hadn’t pointed to the crack in the sky.



A head poked out of the hole, with its distinctive ghost-white mask, and from its maw poured thousands upon thousands of hollows: insignificant winged insects to mighty birds, fierce cats to squatting frogs, and then there were the truly indescribably ones, of such alien geometries as to be incomprehensible, even upon sight.



They were many, but they were weak, petty little foot-soldiers lined up for the slaughter in front of the masters. Each was felled in one stroke, one shot, or less. Uryu’s “bug spray” certainly came in handy, but even that wasn’t enough by itself.



Never did their numbers waver; never did they cease to flow.



Even as our allies aided us—Chad and Izuru and Shuuhei and Toshiro and Byakuya and even Renji—even their aid left barely a scratch. We’d need to get at the big guy, it seemed. But that would be no easy task.



What happened next I can only describe as some sort of waking dream. The maw\'s host descended, and as he lowered his body shrank to a more human size. His body was a white to match his mask, with the exception of the area surrounding his hole, which was a stark black, located right by his left shoulder.



He moved as if in slow motion, but that was merely an affect of his sheer speed. Because, apparently, the only way to differentiate who\'s stronger is by speed. At least he wasn\'t a giraffe.



This is where the dream part comes in. For every move I made, he had a counter, had a way to perfectly mirror my every step. It was an eerie dance, our fight, and I cannot hope to properly convey in words what I felt. It was down to just him and me; everyone else was either indisposed or exhausted from the other hollows.



He had this laugh, an unnerving and deep and dark chuckle straight from his gut, and each time I tried to cut off an arm, or a leg, or a head, he\'d let it loose. And I hated it. Hated it as much as you can hate something without life.



It wasn\'t till he caught me by the arm that I really paid any attention to his eyes, though—the black, beady little things filled with swirling darkness and then some, and the vaguest hint of emotion, of a mild dislike, of the beginnings of hate.



He said, I am the prince of Hueco Mundo, the greatest of the remaining hollows, and you have roused my anger. His was an ominous voice, and there was no helping but to flinch at his speaking. You have killed my followers, he said, killed them indiscriminately. You had no cause to kill the first other than to satisfy your urge to exterminate us. There is no justice in that. And you killed his brother, who sought revenge. That was only slightly more justified. But there was no need to have killed his friend, now was there? But he was there, and you yet thirsted for the blood of a hollow. You are a vile creature, I know.



Who among you can claim justice as an ally? He spoke now to all. His voice echoed and boomed throughout town, and there was no ignoring it. None, I take it? Then he shall be but the first to die tonight. I shall drink your blood, boy, he said to me, now, and watch you die. Are you ready? To die?



Villains do have this annoying habit of justifying their actions in the framework of some greater injustice. It never helps to listen to them, really. They just like the sound of their own voice. Which is why I ignored him. Or, as much as I could given the situation.



Space and time warped visibly around his body. Any ranged attack went straight round him, and any direct strike he\'d dodge. And it was just as likely he could see more than I could, in a sense of time and space.



Then it split, again, back to two levels of thought. I couldn\'t tell you why, but it seemed a necessary thing. I tried to stop it, I did—I had no small experience in similar matters—but this proved more difficult by far. This was more than some dark shadow surfacing; this was an actual part of my psyche manifesting as action.



No time for thought, no need—better in fact not to think. But now I could think all I wanted and watch as my detached body went to work with battle.



It was no stranger to the ways of combat, and it knew well the dance, the kill. But it did not quite relish it the same as this self-proclaimed prince of hollows. It did not take pleasure from killing, only from the victory, and there is the difference, I think. Wanting to win, but not to kill. Wanting to protect, but not to slaughter.



Left unchecked they\'d kill without ceasing. They\'d kill those I loved along with those I hated and those I didn\'t even know. And no way was that happening on my watch.



I told him as much—my body was not quite so resistant to my suggestions this time round, it seemed.



Of course, this was no fight to be won by words alone. They were but a distraction, a diversion—a mental exercise, maybe. Now just to beat him.



Perhaps bankai would be helpful in this situation, I thought.



My body acquiesced.



This did not improve things very noticeably.



A bright pink engulfed everything in a swirl of motion almost too quick to see. The swirls and whorls encased the hollow in a perfect sphere for what felt like minutes. It couldn\'t have been more than ten seconds. Right when the pink blades fluttered away, before what might have been left had a chance even to move, I struck at it and fired off one last getsuga tenshou.



He stood unphased in the air in a cloud of raised dust. His eyes pierced through everything. He fired a cero. Not a flurry of inaccuracy, but a single, giant beam of death and energy, which failed to actually hurt anybody.



What ended up killing him was disappointing, to be honest. He coughed—lightly, at first, then increasingly violently. He hacked and wheezed till what might have been blood spattered out onto the ground. That left him open.



I stabbed him in his eye, and he was gone. So it goes.



Like I said, a disappointment. I don\'t think we could have beat him otherwise, though, and that was solace enough for us.



Uryu clung to a branch for support, his breathing fast and shallow. He looked exhausted. And that was a huge turn on for me, you know. And, because my previous impulse to kiss him was so rudely interrupted by Mr Prince of Hollows, I kissed him right there, in front of everybody. I decided there were more pressing matters at the moment than questioning why they were there.



We were back at my house in less than an instant, and if I hadn\'t been injured we\'d have been naked and fucking even faster. In our current state, though, the best we could hope for was a gentle, well, you know.



And, afterwards, me laying on top of him, breathing his scent so deeply I could suffocate in it, I thought.



“What\'re you thinking about?” he asked.



“I\'m trying to decide if I\'m really in control right now, or if it\'s that other me again.”



“What makes you say that?”



“It\'s just—during the fight, it got to where it would listen to me, my body. I didn\'t have any trouble speaking, but I acted out of instinct. I\'m wondering whether it ever stopped. Like, did we just have sex, or was it my instinct? Was it just my body?”



“I think you\'re over-thinking it,” he said. “Now get off me, would you?”



“Wait,” I said. “I just remembered. Izuru left me this letter. It\'s right on my desk.”