The Sweetest Downfall

a/n: So, so, so sorry for the wait, guys. I've had major computer trouble, as in my laptop has DIED. I'm presently working on my mother's until I can afford a new one. Or afford to get mine fixed. So in the meantime, updates aren't going to be as frequent. I don't know when I'll be able to get another.... April perhaps? It's up in the air at this point since I'm sorta between jobs...

Anyway, here’s the next to last chapter. I do hope you enjoy! It’s one of my favorites, even if it sways a bit towards cliché. My bad.

Ahem, much love to my readers and reviewers, who enjoy this pet project of mine. Thanks to Yakumo ( I LOVE aggressive Izuru. He’s so hot like that!), Kuromei (I do so love having completed fics. I feel all accomplished, lol), Lynzee, Anise (I have great fun weaving my story into actual events because that makes it feel more real to me. Of course, when it comes to trying to detach canon from my story, it becomes a little tangled. Lol), and MasterAkira.

Enjoy!


The Sweetest Downfall – Part Eight
Just Another Stair

In the end, Renji wasn't there. How was he to know that while he was rescuing Inoue in Hueco Mundo, Aizen had larger plans to attack the Living World and Seireitei? He supposed that they should have seen it coming. And that maybe it was why the captain-commander had denied their request to rescue Inoue. Maybe Yamamoto-soutaichou had seen the ploy for what it was – a distraction. Either way, Renji wasn't there.

He had been too busy getting stomped into the ground by that freak Szayel and then later, the even larger freak Yammy. And it galled him that every time, he had to be saved by someone else. He wasn't strong enough, not for anything. That thought burned, more than he was willing to admit aloud to anyone.

Renji hadn't seen what happened in Seireitei. He hadn't been there to witness the end of the war and how brutal it had been. How the Shinigami had barely won and only then by a streak of luck. He'd only heard long afterwards, lying in a bed in the fourth division as Unohana-taichou and her division of ragged Shinigami stitched him and half their forces back together.

Aizen was dead, that much everyone knew for certain. How he died and who struck the final blow, well, no one could be sure. From what Renji heard, it was a pure melee, a madness of zanpakutou and kidoh thrown through the air at a series of targets invoked by Aizen's zanpakutou. Renji supposed it didn't matter who defeated Aizen in the end, so long as the traitorous bastard was dead.

Besides, it wasn't Aizen's fate that concerned Renji the most. It was Ichimaru's. When no one was looking and all eyes had been focused on Aizen, it had been Izuru and one of the Vizard who had defeated Ichimaru.

Izuru had faced his former captain and emerged victorious. That fact gave Renji a spark of pride and relief. He had always known that Izuru had it within him, but to have the obvious proof made all the difference. And maybe it hadn't been the most honorable of strikes, but in the end, did that matter? Ichimaru had been defeated and Izuru had proven himself to be strong. Much stronger than anyone gave him credit.

And now Ichimaru had new quarters in Seireitei's prisons, courtesy of the new soutaichou. He was a defeated man, stripped of his powers, his allies, of anything remotely sympathetic. Renji didn't know why such a thought disturbed him, so he always chased it away by reminding himself that the war was over.

The moment he was released from the fourth division, Renji had hurried home to spend the rest of his required medical leave in the familiarity of his own quarters. Even better, he knew that Izuru was waiting on him. The blond hadn't been able to visit Renji because the fourth division was so packed from injuries suffered during the war, but he'd been able to pass Renji a message.

It was the sort of note that made the messenger blush and Renji grin from ear to ear. After that, he was antsy-ready to leave the fourth division, and Unohana-taichou had all but kicked him out in exasperation. Renji was mostly healed anyway. Orihime-san was very good at what she did. There wasn't even a scar.

“Bed rest for a week, Abarai-fukutaichou,” Unohana-taichou warned him with that pleasant voice of hers that pretty much commanded he obey or face the really scary needles. And Renji, who'd had tattoos plastered over every inch of his body, quailed in the face of Unohana-taichou's needles. He obeyed.

The redhead nodded. “Yes, ma'am. Bed rest for a week.”

He figured, if Zaraki-taichou could be mildly frightened of this gentle woman than Renji had every right to be. Even if said captain would never admit the fear aloud.

- - - - -

Home was a rather wonderful place to be, even if it was little more than a large single room divided into smaller areas by artfully placed byobu. It was even more wonderful due to the fact that something good was brewing in Renji's “kitchen” and every time he looked up, he could see Izuru's silhouette at the counter, hard at work. The blond's back was to him, but as he leaned forward to cut something, the strands of his hair swung forward, baring the graceful curve of his neck.

Renji was again reminded that he hadn't seen his lover since leaving for Hueco Mundo. And before that, he'd been on a mission in the Living World. Nor had Renji been there when Izuru had helped to take down Ichimaru. He had a lot to catch up on. Except that he couldn't seem to find a chance to because Izuru kept bustling around like he had nothing better to do than dust random crap, cook plates and plates of food that Renji wouldn't be able to eat today much less the rest of the week, and generally ignore Renji's presence.

“Izuru,” he called out, growing just a bit frustrated. “Ya can leave tha for later, yanno. I'm not that hungry right now.”

The blond didn't even look at him. “You're hopeless in the kitchen, Renji-kun.”

Granted, but it really wasn't an explanation of anything. He seemed to be completely missing the fact that Renji would prefer Izuru in the room with him rather than on the other side of a screen.

He knocked his head back against a pillow and contemplated getting up. Izuru, however, chose that moment to set something aside and head back into the main part of the room, something in hand. He bustled past Renji as though the redhead weren't even there, just as he'd been doing for the past twenty minutes or so.

“Izuru?”

Renji was ignored, and he was beginning to think that something was up. This was the first time he'd seen the blond since Aizen had been defeated. One would think that it should be a celebration of a sort. Or that they should be greeting one another as lovers did. Was an embrace too much to ask for?

“Oi!”

“You've been gone a while,” Izuru muttered. “This place really needs airing out.”

The redhead twitched. Izuru moved past him again and that was really the last straw. Renji lost his patience.

“Izuru,” he said, snagging the blond's arm and forcing him to stop the busy, insensate puttering. “What's up with you? Yer actin' weird.”

“Am I?” Izuru returned, pausing to sweep his gaze over Renji.

“Uh... yeah.” Renji tugged on the captured arm, pulling Izuru into a sprawl across his lap and over the blankets. This was where he wanted Izuru to be anyway, not running around cleaning his quarters like some kinda maid. “Yer about as nervous as I was the first time I saw Kuchiki-taichou.”

Izuru eased out of Renji's hold, and that action was enough to set off loud, jangling, warning bells in Renji's head. “I'm not nervous.”

Cherry-amber eyes narrowed. “Maybe not that, but somethin's definitely up.” Renji peered at Izuru, but the blond's profile was carved from stone. It revealed nothing. “Are ya angry?”

Izuru looked at him, actually looked right at him, and Renji quailed under the force of his stare, brimming with something beneath the surface. Those were not the eyes of the friendly, gentle Izuru that Renji knew well. That was the fighter Izuru, the one that could defeat an Arrancar without blinking. The one that Ichimaru raised so well. The embodiment of his division.

“Do I look angry?” Izuru demanded in a clipped tone.

Renji shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to admit aloud just how intimidated he was. “Well... yeah. Now ya do.” A low feeling of dread settled in his belly.

Ichimaru's alive, he reminded himself with a growing feeling of unease. Who knows what that bastard told Izuru. Or what secrets he's been spilling.

Reiatsu danced in the air, lightly but obviously present, a true sign of Izuru's agitation. “Then tell me, Abarai-san, what exactly the arrangement between you and Ichimaru was,” Izuru all but hissed.

Renji went absolutely still, his memories taking him back to the past, to Ichimaru purring in his ear, and Ichimaru's fingers on his hips, and the strange mix of pain and pleasure that even now he couldn't seem to forget. And Renji's fingers curled at his sides, dropping from where he had intended to pull Izuru back towards him.

“Izuru--”

“Were you doing it for my sake?” the blond continued, eyes narrowing as he leaned forward, boxing Renji in with his arms and his impressive reiatsu. His tone was low and dangerous, his question one Renji wasn't sure he wanted to answer. “Am I that pathetic you need to protectt me?”

“It wasn't like that!” Renji blurted, barely keeping from stammering. This was wrong. All wrong. He didn't want Izuru to think that. But he was already losing ground without even taking a step.

He felt trapped, a rabbit caught in a stare as his protest only seemed to incense Izuru further. “Wasn't it?” Izuru returned sharply, his reiatsu lashing at Renji like a physical attack. He flinched. “You think I'm some damsel in distress that needs your protection? The both of you deciding what I needed behind my back! Like a prize in a game!”

The redhead squared his jaw, refusing to be intimidated, even if Izuru was pretty fucking scary right now. This was the part of Izuru he didn't know as well. The ungentle and grave warrior that the third division had created.

“Ya know better than to think I'm like that, Izuru. I never once thought you were pathetic. Or weak.”

No, you just wanted to save him, Renji's mind reminded him in a smug tone. Didn't you? You just wanted to be someone's hero. And now look where you are.

“And yet, you took it upon yourself to make some sort of... of trade with Ichimaru,” Izuru spat, his fingers curling against the wood with a defining scrape. “For what? My chastity? What do I look like?”

Renji wasn't sure he wanted to answer that one either. It sounded like a trap. He wasn't even sure he knew how to answer it, but luckily, Izuru trudged on without waiting for him to form one. He snarled like a bloodthirsty beast, his reaitsu a fierce lash that Renji didn't dare protect himself from. Guilt made for a leaden weight in his belly.

You're right. Dammit, but you're right and what can I say in the face of that? What was I supposed to do? Just watch as you fell apart? What kind of friend do you think I am?

But that was only what he wanted to say.

“Good little Izuru. Weak little Izuru. Pat him on the head, it'll be all right,” Izuru snarled, and he snorted, suddenly not there anymore as he pushed away from Renji and rose to his feet all in the same, angered motion. “Well, fuck you, Abarai. I don't need that kind of pity.”

Renji scrambled to his feet, the action pulling sharply against the wound in his side, still a bit sore at times. “Izuru...” he tried, reaching, but the blond twisted away from him with a glare fierce enough to rival that of a very irate Kuchiki Byakuya.

It cut like the sharp edge of a zanpakutou and Renji flinched, feeling it like a physical blow.

“Don't,” Izuru hissed angrily, eyes flashing. “I am a man, in case you haven't noticed, Abarai. And even I have my pride. I've had enough.”

Arm cradling his aching side, Renji could only watch as Izuru's reiatsu swelled one more time and then he was gone, making Renji's walls rattle. He left behind a guilt so enclosing that it tried to swallow Renji in one big gulp. He couldn't even go after the blond because... what would be the point? What would Renji say?

And as always, words had failed him.

- - - - -

There wasn't enough sake in the world, Renji mourned internally, shaking the empty jug and contemplating if his pockets held enough for another. The liquor couldn't wash away the guilt or the disappointment. And no matter how much he drank, it couldn't stop him from being pissed at himself either. He had no one to blame but himself. Sure Ichimaru held some of the blame, but from what Renji could tell, the bastard didn't feel the least bit guilty so it would do Renji no good to blame him.

“Last I remember, you were in the fourth division with a hole in your side. Should you be sucking down sake like there's no tomorrow?”

Renji looked up and immediately wished he hadn't because his skull spiked with pain and his vision was just this side of blurry. “Hisagi-senpai?” he said, thinking that the black-headed blur just above him was probably the vice-captain of the ninth.

“Got it in one.” The blur above him might have grinned. “Everyone else is celebrating. Why are you the only one who looks like we hadn't won the war?”

He wasn't kidding. Everywhere Renji looked, people were celebrating. It was madness. Aizen had been defeated days ago, but the revelers hadn't stopped yet. As if they had completely forgotten all the suffering it had taken to get to this point. Renji half-wondered how that orange-haired brat was faring as everybody's hero. Probably suffocating under all the attention knowing him.

Renji shook his bottle pointedly, the last few drops barely making a sound. “It's empty.”

A chair scraped loudly across the floor as Hisagi-senpai invited himself down for a seat. “I don't really think that's the reason, though it is a good one. Did you and Kira fight or something?”

Renji blinked. “You...”

“That kind of thing is hard to hide from everyone, Abarai,” Hisagi-senpai said, his voice thick with amusement. He lifted a hand, trying to signal someone for more liquor as Renji was quite out. “Especially when the both of you go missing at the same time. Don't worry though. Iba and Madarame haven't gotten it yet.”

“Doubt they will,” Renji agreed with a snort, looking mournfully into his empty bowl.

He never would have guessed, all those months ago, that it would come to this. It had been about helping Izuru, and now, somewhere along the way, emotions had gotten involved. And it felt like someone had torn out his heart, ground it under several pairs of geta, and spiked it with the second division's ninja darts.

Worst part was that Renji had no one to be angry with but himself. So he couldn't lash out at anyone. He could only sit and stew in his own misery until he felt sober enough to crawl out of it and think about what to do next.

“Unless they catch you two in the act,” Hisagi-senpai added with a chuckle, rapping his knuckles on the uneven tabletop. Hell, everything was uneven in this joint. “So... what has you brooding here in the dark corner?”

Renji sighed. “Long story,” he said, relieved when a passing server dropped off another sake jug and held out her hand expectantly for money. Before Renji could even dig into his pockets, Hisagi-senpai was handing it over and waving her away.

“Needless to say,” Hisagi-senpai said, uncorking the jug with a loud pop, “it's your fault.”

Renji glared from the corner of his eyes. “If ya must know, then yeah, it was my fault.” He looked into his bowl, swirling the sake around and around. “I stuck my nose in where it wasn't wanted.” He could see his reflection in the liquid and yeah, Renji could see where he looked like shit. No wonder Hisagi-senpai had stopped to talk to him.

“So you pissed him off. Big deal. Just apologize. Kira's pretty reasonable.” Hisagi-senpai poured his own drink, the sake slipping smoothly into the bowl.

Dragging a hand through his hair, Renji settled his chin on his palm. “It's not that simple. Though I guess I shoulda seen it comin'.”

Hisagi-senpai blinked, his dark eyes confused. “I'm not even going to pretend I have a clue what's going on. Though I can guess it has something to do with Ichimaru.”

“Doesn't everything?” Renji retorted bitterly, knocking his knuckles against the tabletop. “That damn bastard is still causing problems, despite bein' locked up and defeated.” He paused and looked at the dark-haired man, his vision clearing just a little. “Did you know about them, Hisagi-senpai?”

He shifted uneasily. “I had suspicions, but I didn't have any proof. I didn't know enough to even consider doing something.” The other vice-captain tilted his head. “And it wasn't exactly something I could just come out and ask.”

“Yeah, I know.” Renji sat back, tugging on the end of his braid. “And I still don't really get it. They're both so damn secretive. And Ichimaru just kept sayin' I was misunderstandin' only he wouldn't ever say how.”

“And now Kira's mad because...?”

“I offended his pride,” Renji answered with a heavy sigh. Or at least, that was the conclusion he had gathered during a long contemplation before deciding that the bar was the best place for drowning his guilt. “He didn't need or want my help. And I stuck my nose in where it wasn't wanted. Behind his back.”

Hisagi-senpai drank heavily of the sake before pouring more into his bowl. “That doesn't seem so bad.”

He had a point. “Yeah, it's not but... it's Izuru we're talking about right?” Renji said, gesturing vaguely. “He's got it harder than the rest of us when it comes to what people think of him.”

“Ah...” Hisagi-senpai nodded in understanding. “But you know... I don't think that's it completely either.” He thumbed his chin.

Renji looked at him.

The other vice-captain sat back in his seat. “Kira knows you, so his anger about that will pass. He'll know that you didn't mean it to offend him or imply anything.” Hisagi-senpai smirked. “He also knows how lacking you are in the tact department.”

The redhead bristled indignantly. “Hey!”

But Hisagi-senpai continued without waiting for him, “The root of the problem here is that you don't know what was really going on between him and Ichimaru. For all you know, you could be insulting a relationship that wasn't as terrible as you think it was, and that is probably what Kira's pissed about.”

Would you believe me if I said I came to him first?

He's not as terrible as everyone thinks he is.

Renji nodded slowly, his alcohol-befuddled mind trying to wrap itself around that concept. “You really think...?”

“I can't guess,” Hisagi-senpai said, making a face Renji couldn't even begin to interpret before he hid it behind a gulp of sake. “Ichimaru is... well, you know. He's always had his own agenda and I'm better off not trying to figure him out.” The bowl settled on the table with a defining thud. “That's your problem, not mine.”

Renji slumped with an audible sigh, pushing away the jug with the tip of his finger. “I just wanted...”

“To save him, right?”

Renji blinked.

Hisagi-senpai scratched at his chin again. “You know, Abarai, you've got a hero complex half the size of Soul Society. Let me ask you something.”

Wary, Renji tipped his head. “What?”

“Why did you train yourself so hard?”

Okay, so that wasn't the question he was expecting. It temporarily threw him for a loop. “To get stronger,” Renji answered slowly. “Why else?”

Hisagi-senpai made a sound of agreement. “To defeat Kuchiki-taichou right?”

“Yeah...”

“Why?”

“Because...”

And here, Renji hesitated.

Why?

Because Kuchiki Byakuya had taken the one thing that meant anything to Renji at the time. He'd taken Rukia. And after that, she wouldn't even look at Renji until he was strong enough to take her back. But more than that, Renji couldn't even tell her no like he wanted because what Kuchiki Byakuya had to give was more than he had. He couldn't say no and be that weak, not with nothing to offer her.

“Because...”

“Because of Kuchiki Rukia, right?” Hisagi-senpai prodded, almost gleefully Renji might add. As though he'd stumbled on some great secret or understanding that no one else had figured out yet.

Well, yeah. It started out being because of Rukia, and then slowly, it changed without Renji knowing why. Rukia was happy now and obviously she didn't need him. And Renji had nothing to drive him towards that goal anymore. Was Kuchiki-taichou still his goal? In some ways, yes. In others... no, not anymore.

Hisagi-senpai rose to his feet. “Why don't you try being strong for yourself, ne, Abarai? It might work out better in the end.”

Renji looked at him, a bit befuddled. “Izuru didn't need me to save him.”

“No, he didn't,” the other man said with a smile. “But you did anyway.”

Yeah, because that made a lot of sense. And in reality, it somehow did. At least, to Renji.

He shook his head. “No... maybe he's the one that saved me.”

“Maybe he did. So go apologize. I'd hate to see Kira get any gloomier than he already is, and broody doesn't suit you either,” Hisagi-senpai said, clapping his hand companionably on Renji's shoulder.

The redhead nodded, fiddling with a sake bowl that had lost his interest. “Thanks, Hisagi-senpai.”

The vice-captain of the ninth scratched his nose, looking away. “Just don't tell anyone. They might think I'm soft or something,” he muttered, and throwing a hand over his shoulder, Hisagi-senpai slipped back into the boisterous crowd.

Renji grumbled and rapped his knuckles against the table top, examining the grain of the wood. There was nothing left to do but apologize. Try to understand. Maybe figure this thing out completely.

He hoped Kira would listen to him.

* * * *

a/n: *grins* Ah, come on, you knew the big, blow up was coming. It was only a matter of time. Lol.

I’ll try and get the last chapter out as soon as I can. I’ve such a soft spot for this fic. Thanks for reading!