The Sweetest Downfall

a/n: Last chapter, guys! I do hope you enjoy it! And thanks to everyone who’s enjoyed this piece of personal interest.

Special love to Yakumo, Lynzee, MasterAkira, Kuromei, and Anise for commenting on the last chapter!

The Sweetest Downfall
Chapter the Final: Unbreakable

It was early, or late, Renji wasn't sure which. And it was hard to tell, as drunk as he was, though it was burning off pretty quickly.

In the chill and dark of the evening, he stumbled home, senpai's words washing over and through him.

Even taking into account what Hisagi had said to him, Renji didn't think a simple apology to Izuru would work. Renji wasn't sure how to make this right.

He couldn't even claim that things had started simply. For Renji, it had all been tangled from that first moment in time when he saw Izuru and Ichimaru together. That was the first tentacle around his ankle. Now, he was fully in the grip of something he had never felt before. He hadn't set out to fall for Izuru. It had just happened, and now he was in deep, sucked under by those awkward emotions, and unable to let go.

And it wasn't in Renji's nature to surrender.

It would, however, be better to seek out Izuru tomorrow when Renji was sober ... and less moody. He needed to absorb his varied epiphanies before begging Izuru's forgiveness.

Renji wasn't sure if he could – or even would – apologize. He didn't feel guilty for what he had done, only remorse for the fact that it had obviously upset Izuru.

And as for interfering in the affair between Izuru and Ichimaru, well, that was his fault for jumping into a situation blind, but the nature of their relationship wasn't exactly something he could have come out and asked Izuru to clarify either. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Renji had done the best he could, given what he knew at the time.

Renji groaned. His thoughts were going in circles. Hopeless. He would get nowhere at this rate. And his head ached.

Grinding his palm into his left eyesocket where stabs of pain made his vision blurry, Renji shoved the door to his quarters open and stumbled inside. Passing out in bed was first on his agenda and then tomorrow, he would find Izuru and make things right.

Somehow.

Except ... the lights in his quarters were already on. Renji could have sworn that he'd left them off before leaving for the day. He stood dumbfounded in his doorway, reiatsu rising in the face of a possible threat, thumb slipping his blade free of its sheath. Until he recognized the form that slid out from behind one of the folding screens. Blond, slight, and possibly apologetic.

“Izuru? What are you...?”

Renji never completed his sentence, his arms suddenly full of Izuru and Renji's mouth covered by the blond's own. Izuru's lips were pliant, tasting of anise, his body warm as it pressed against Renji's. His palms were soft where he cupped Renji's jaw, and his strong fingers gentle where they buried themselves in the strands of hair at Renji's nape.

Renji was too shocked to respond and when Izuru drew back, there was something in his blue eyes that Renji had never seen before. “I like you,” the blond said, out of nowhere. “I like you, Renji. And I always have.”

“I...” Renji blinked, utterly confused. “What?”

Izuru sighed, knocking his head against Renji's shoulder, his fingers refusing to relinquish their hold. “I've liked you since we were in the Academy together. But you never so much as hinted that it would be returned, so I kept it to myself.” He chuckled lightly, but the laugh was bitter. “You were always looking at Kuchiki-san. Even when she thought you weren't.”

Renji was flabbergasted. He would have never suspected, not in his wildest dreams, that Izuru had... had... had crushed on him. He never noticed. They were friends, casual friends and classmates, but Renji never thought to look closer.

Izuru liked him even back then?

It just blew his mind, and well, it was pretty damn flattering too. It was knowledge of such import and power that it short-circuited Renji's brain. While even Renji was willing to admit that that wasn't hard ... it blew his mind. Along with being pretty damn flattering too.

“I... then you're not mad at me?” Renji asked. He was pretty sure that these were not the "right" words to say, but words ... words were untrustworthy. They weren't like a sword. Words ... swords ... Kira ... his alcohol-fuzzed brain couldn't seem to connect things.

The blond shook his head, fingers dropping from their hold on Renji's chin to grasp his other shoulder. “I was, at first, but after I thought about it, I realized that I wasn't angry at you for the reasons I told you, but for something else entirely. And even then, I couldn't fault you for doing what you did. You didn't know and I didn't explain.”

Huh. Hisagi-senpai was right. Seemed liked he knew Renji and Izuru better than they knew themselves.

... that was kind of freaky.

“I don't pity you, ya know,” Renji said, one big thumb stroking Izuru's cheek, because he felt that it needed to be said. “Yer one of the strongest guys I know. And I don't think yer pathetic either. I just...”

"Wanted to help" was stuck on the tip of his tongue. But that could be interpreted wrongly, too.

Renji sighed. “Yer my friend, Izuru. What kind of guy would I be if I looked the other way when I thought you were in trouble? Sometimes, there're things we just can't solve ourselves.”

Ichigo had taught him that. Ichigo never asked for help, but he always needed it. And Ichigo was the strongest kid that Renji knew. That spectacled brat Ishida was the same way: never asking for help, but needing it all the same. And Renji didn't think of either of them as weak.

It wasn't weak to need help sometimes. Renji had finally come to understand that.

“I know.” Izuru looked up at him, something discomfited behind his blue eyes, before he shook his head. “Never mind, it's embarrassing. I'm not going to explain it.”

“Explain what?”

Izuru didn't answer. Instead he grabbed Renji's arm and steered him away from the wall, navigating Renji around his screens to his futon.

The redhead followed because his feet were still unsteady; but Izuru seemed to have some plan in mind. Renji would let him take the lead as long as it meant Izuru wasn't pissed at him anymore.

Renji was more or less pushed onto the futon where he sprawled gracelessly, head spinning, as Izuru disappeared into the kitchen. He re-emerged later with a cup of water and a couple of pain pills, fanservice to the inevitable morning hangover.

“Thanks,” Renji said, taking the offered relief as Izuru dropped down beside him, Renji's lover looking as if he wanted to say something but not sure how to phrase it.

The blond rubbed his hands over his knees and thighs, looking everywhere but at Renji. The shadows under his eyes were darker than they had been as of late, and Renji felt a stir of guilt for causing them.

“It was consensual,” Izuru suddenly blurted, fingers twisting around themselves in his lap. “All of it. I started it. Ichimaru only did what I asked of him.”

“Izuru...”

The blond shook his head. “No. I'm going to tell you because you have to understand. You can't hate him. At least, not for what he did to me.”

Renji had reasons to despise Ichimaru that had nothing to do with Kira. Reasons like being tossed around like some kind of toy.

Even given that, Renji couldn't seem to hate Ichimaru though. The traitor was just weird in all kinds of ways, his strange mannerisms and actions defying definition. Renji had always known something wasn't quite right behind those red eyes. But, like all of Seireitei, he had never put it all together.

“Fine, I won't hate him for that. But I still got my own reasons, an' they got to do with the shit way he played me,” Renji groused, fiddling with the half-drunk cup of water. “He could've told me th' truth instead of playin' games.”

Izuru inclined his head. “Granted. But... he probably thought he was helping me.”

Renji snorted. “Helping you? I find that hard to believe.”

A hand fell on his arm, squeezing warmly. “He's not a bad person.”

“Ya keep saying that,” Renji muttered. Izuru's touch somehow made him want to pull away ... perhaps it was because he was thinking about Ichimaru. Thinking about him, and then talking about him.

It made his skin crawl with memory.

“He's a sadistic, manipulative bastard. And yet ya keep saying he's a good person. I don't get it, Izuru.”

To his credit, the blond didn't flinch. He only sighed. “You wouldn't. It's always been easy for you.”

Renji's brow furrowed in utter confusion, until he realized that Izuru's words seemed to echo a past.

“How'm I supposed to get it?” Renji demanded, aghast.

“You won't. Not the way you are.” Izuru's eyes were wild, a far shade from their normal blue. “It's always been easy for you. Making friends. Getting stronger. Finding your place.”

The blond's body trembled with conflicting emotions, barreling on as though he hadn't stunned Renji with his first words alone. “I thought I would do anything to protect him. Because if he just patted me on the head, told me I had done right, nothing could ever go wrong. And now I'm all alone again. He left me and I'm just useless after all.”

Ichimaru had always been the only one who ever gave Izuru a chance.

It clicked together with an uncomfortable logic, one that Renji didn't want to admit, but had to grudgingly acknowledge. Why else would Izuru go to Ichimaru? Because Ichimaru was the only one who ever accepted him. And suddenly, Renji wondered if Ichimaru might have been planning for this – for Renji to end up with Izuru -- all along.

He dragged a hand down his face. “Ichimaru... he said somethin' to me when I was in Hueco Mundo. Somethin' about... knowin' things from the start.” Renji shook his head. “That bastard kept tellin' me I was misunderstandin'.”

“That sounds like him,” Izuru said quietly, his fingers squeezing Renji's arm again. “I'm wondering if this wasn't some huge manipulation on his part myself.”

“This?” Renji repeated, and dragged his eyes the blond's direction. “Ya mean... you and me?”

Izuru shrugged, though the gesture was far from nonchalant. “He knew I liked you,” he said, blue eyes skipping to the side. “A lot of people did. Apparently, I don't hide it very well.”

Renji snorted. “I didn't know.”

“Renji, you're not exactly the most perceptive person I know.”

“Hey! I at least got Iba-san beat.”

“That's not really saying much.”

Renji twisted his jaw, but his annoyance passed when Izuru chuckled again, dissolving a tension that had been steadily rising, like some kind of emotional red tide, flooding the room and rising, rising, threatening to drown them both.

Izuru was no longer angry with him, Renji realized, and that was a weight off his shoulders.

Beside him, Izuru shifted, capturing Renji's attention. “With all that said,” Izuru began, taking in a deep breath, “I don't want to end this.” He sounded uncertain, as though expecting Renji to throw his words back in his face.

Words had proven time and time again to fail Renji. They tended to get twisted up, coming out a messy tangle that always got him into trouble. Actions had always spoken much, much louder. He knew exactly what to do, if never quite what to say.

He kissed Izuru, practically pulling the blond into his lap to seal their mouths together. Izuru felt all warm and snug in his arms, his scent filtering through to Renji's senses and making him stir. It had been so long since he touched Izuru like this, and it felt so much like coming home.

Izuru aggressively returned the kiss, their tongues sliding slippery together. And Renji's hands ghosted up Izuru's back, feeling the shifting of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shihakushou. Despite the alcohol sluggishly pushing warmth through his limbs, Renji really wanted to strip Izuru naked right here and now and drag his tongue down the blond's bare chest.

Fingers buried themselves in Renji's hair, loosening the sloppy braid, and Izuru made a sound in his throat that shot straight to Renji's groin. The redhead groaned into the kiss, his hand pushing Izuru tightly against him.

Reality intruded, reminding him that a kiss was an answer, but sometimes words were important too.

Renji's lips broke away from Izuru's, tracing a path along his jaw that tasted vaguely of the blond's sweat, moving to nibble on Izuru's ear. Izuru rocked against him, his knees pressing against Renji's side, his voice a breathy gasp that ended in a moan. One of Renji's hands dropped lower, cupping a rounded backside, fingers kneading the soft flesh. Clothes were rapidly becoming a hindrance, Renji noted.

Hands dropped to Renji's shoulders with a hard shove, and Renji – lacking his usual balance – toppled backwards. He hit the ground with a grunt, not that he minded too terribly, not when Izuru followed him down. Warm lips traced a hot path over Renji's bared throat, Izuru's knee nudging between Renji's legs and massaging at his groin.
Renji moaned, one hand clutching at his futon as the other buried itself in blond hair. His head fell back, and Renji dragged his tongue over his lips, savoring the lingering taste of Izuru. Hands worked busily at his shitagi, fingers pulling open his obi and parting the layers of clothes.

A warm mouth worked its way down Renji's chest, tracing jagged dark lines. Izuru had some obsession with Renji's tattoos.

Renji didn't mind.

It was sexy.

In fact, now that he considered it, there was not much about Izuru that wasn't sexy.

His cock shoved at the barrier of his hakama, desperate to be freed, and Renji forgot about all the important questions he should be asking, and the answers he should be demanding. He pushed all of that away in the wake of the pleasurable things Izuru was waking inside of him.

Izuru was a smart guy. No doubt he already knew that Renji loved him; he would save those words for later.

* * * *

The sound of the key in the lock seemed even louder in the silence and musty stillness of the holding cells. Renji couldn't help but be a little nervous, though he tried to hide it behind a mask of resolve. He wasn't sure, exactly, why he was here. Renji knew it wasn't to gloat. He just felt a need to see Ichimaru one last time, to put a lid on something that had spanned the better part of a few years.

“Ten minutes,” the Shinigami guard reminded him sternly, looking perturbed at being forced to allow Renji to see his precious prisoner. But he didn't have a choice. Renji had permission and far be it from the guard to disobey the soutaichou.

Why Renji had been given permission probably had something to do with Kuchiki-taichou's insistence. And why Kuchiki-taichou had been so willing to help his vice-captain, Renji didn't know. Probably because there was little threat left in Ichimaru. And well, they doubted Renji was planning to loose Ichimaru on Soul Society. Either way, Renji wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Inclining his head, Renji spared the guard a nod. “Yeah, I got it. I don't even think I'll need that long.”

Huffing, the guard closed the door behind Renji with a violent thud, making the vice-captain flinch. Sighing to himself, Renji squared his shoulders and focused on the barred cell, and its occupant just beyond the metal. Ichimaru had likely noticed his presence, and that assumption was confirmed when Ichimaru's voice spilled through the space between them.

“Why, Renji-kun, how good of ya to visit. And here I was gettin' lonely.”

The former captain emerged from the darkness, wearing nothing more than a plain grey yukata, and looking paler than Renji thought possible. His face was carefully blank of expression, even his usual smile, and his tone betrayed his attempt at nonchalance.

Surprise and loneliness warred for supremacy on the former taichou's face.

Unusually for Ichimaru, loneliness won.

Renji let Ichimaru's initial words pass over him. He knew that Ichimaru was probably trying to goad him in some way. Granted, that wasn't a difficult thing to accomplish, so Renji held hard onto his composure. He still wasn't sure why he was here, but he was sure that anger would not help him to achieve his goal.

“Why didn't ya jes tell me the truth?” Renji asked, sliding further into the room, until he stood just before the bars, but not within reach.

Ichimaru's head tipped to the side. “Would ya have listened?”

Yes. No. Maybe. Renji really couldn't be sure. But -- he was talking to Ichimaru, here. “Course I would've.”

The former captain chuckled. “Liar.”

Renji flushed, his eyes skipping away from Ichimaru. “Ya took advantage of me.”

“I'm goin' ta call it takin' advantage of a gift that's been presented ta me,” Ichimaru corrected in a purr. “You came ta me, Renji-kun. How could I resist?”

The vice-captain snorted. “Ya just like playin' games with people.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Ichimaru looked at him, and Renji met his gaze, wondering why eye contact with Ichimaru bothered him so much less than it once did.

One hand curled around the bars of Ichimaru's cell, very thin and gaunt.

“But I was right in the end, wasn't I?”

“About what?”

In the half-light, Ichimaru's silver hair seemed white as snow. “Ya love 'im, don't ya?”

Renji winced, resisting the urge to retreat, hating that the traitor could read him so easily.

He didn't answer, and Ichimaru gave a low chuckle which echoed hollowly in the cell. “Izuru-chan's a good kid. So ya better take care of 'im, Abarai-kun. Treat 'im right.”

“I don't need you to tell me that,” Renji snapped, hostility rising over him like a cold tide, as though Ichimaru were challenging him, impotent as he had been rendered.

Renji could not be sure of much about Ichimaru Gin, but he knew that he was stronger, now, than the traitor. That realization didn't fill the redhead with any sense of superiority as he had half-expected, half-hoped, it might. This new Renji asked himself, what was there to be proud of in that?

Ichimaru looked at him, his slit eyes opening to reveal the red of the irises beneath. “Why'd ya come here, Abarai-kun? Didja miss me?”

Renji snorted, folding his arms over his chest. He didn't have an answer.

He was here because ... because it felt right. Natural. Like being here was the next logical step. With everything over and done, Ichimaru was the only piece of the puzzle not in place, and Renji had come hoping to finally click Ichimaru into his place.

Because, while Izuru had explained a lot, even he could not explain Ichimaru. Even he could not tell what Ichimaru was thinking.

“Or mebbe you jes wanted ta thank me,” Ichimaru continued slyly.

“An' maybe I was just makin' sure yer rotting here where ya belong,” Renji growled.

The silver-haired man frowned. “That wasn't very nice, Renji-kun. And after all I've done fer ya, too.”

Renji wanted to snarl in return, to ask Ichimaru what the hell he thought Renji should be grateful for, but the former captain had a point. It was a cruel thing to say, and it felt a lot like kicking a man in the face with steel-toed boots when he was already curled up on the ground. Renji hadn't thought himself that kind of person.

Besides, in some small way, he did owe Ichimaru something. Maybe. Possibly. If Renji thought about it hard and admitted some things he would never say aloud. Ever. Any possible gratitude he owed Ichimaru Gin was a truth he planned to take to his grave.

The redhead sighed, eyes sliding away from the traitor. “Does it matter why I'm here?”

Renji just wanted to understand... something. He understood Izuru. He didn't understand Ichimaru. He didn't understand why Ichimaru allowed everyone to believe he was the ultimate villain. Or why he defected to the side of a man who easily tossed aside his own allies.

Why?

“Does it?” Ichimaru repeated, tipping his head to the side.

“Tell me it wasn't just a game,” Renji demanded, and even then, he wasn't sure if he meant Ichimaru's involvement with -- use of? -- himself or Izuru. “Tell me he's important to you.”

“Why does it matter?”

Renji didn't know himself, but he felt it was important. He felt that he needed to know, needed to understand the reason behind all of Ichimaru's subtle manipulations. To put faith in Izuru's belief that Ichimaru wasn't a completely awful person.

“Just tell me,” Renji repeated.

Ichimaru chuckled again. “Didn't ya ever stop ta wonder why, Abarai-kun?”

Blinking, the redhead frowned. “What the hell are ya talking about?”

Cerise eyes glittered at him, reflecting off the flickering torches. “Why ya caught a glimpse of us that day when ya never had before. When Kira knew good 'n well that ya would come an' get 'im.”

Renji fell back, unsure of what Ichimaru was hinting at. “Ya tryin' ta tell me that Izuru planned it?”

“Izuru-chan's not that crafty,” Ichimaru corrected with a low hum in his throat. “Ya should know that, Abarai-kun.”

Renji stood rooted to the ground as realization swept over him. Ichimaru had planned this. Ichimaru.

Why?

Behind Renji, the door to the cell swung open as someone knocked. “Time's up, Abarai-fukutaichou,” the Shinigami guard huffed.

How much had the man heard? Renji's head snapped around. But then he realized that he didn't care. It didn't matter. Just as Ichimaru himself was of no moment any longer, it didn't matter.

Ichimaru chuckled, taking the distraction as a reason to slide back into the shadows of his cell. There was a squeak as he dropped back down onto the mattress. “Seems like ya won't get yer answer after all, Abarai-kun.”

“Ichimaru!”

The guard cleared his throat noisily, rapping the base of his weapon against the ground. “Abarai-fukutaichou,” he repeated, warningly.

Renji snarled in frustration and abandoned the dank cell. Nothing more was heard from Ichimaru as the vice-captain spun on his heel and stalked towards the door.

Renji’s hands curled into annoyed fists at his side. Why couldn't Ichimaru ever simply answer a question? He preferred always to create more mysteries, himself remaining shrouded at their center.

Renji glared at the Shinigami guard. To his credit, the man didn't even flinch. Then again, he had been chosen to guard their most dangerous prisoner, and was probably selected for the size of his balls. No, a glare from a mere fukutaichou wasn't even on this guy's radar.

Stepping back into the main hallway, Renji drew to a sudden halt at first sight of the man waiting for him. “Kuchiki-taichou? What are you...?”

“Is your business complete?” his captain asked crisply, not betraying a hint of emotion.

Renji forced his hands to uncurl, nodding slowly. “Yes, taichou. But...” he trailed off as Kuchiki-taichou turned away from him, heading down the corridor towards the exit. Renji really had no choice but to follow.

He glanced once more over his shoulder at the guarded room. It had only been a couple of days since the end of the war. Renji knew that they had severed Ichimaru's soukatsui as a precaution. But what were they going to do with him now besides that?

“Taichou... what are they gonna do with him?”

“With Ichimaru? Execution, perhaps.”

Renji suppressed a shudder, though he knew that was the logical outcome. “Ah...”

Really, he should hate the former captain ... traitor. He should loathe Ichimaru with every inch of his being. But strangely, those emotions were absent.

Did he feel pity?

Renji wasn't sure.

“You are concerned,” Kuchiki-taichou said, his scarf that white flutter behind him that which Renji had long since learned to associate with the man.

Renji shook his head. “No. I just...” He wasn't sure what he wanted to say, lifting a hand to rub the back of his head.

The other man paused in the middle of the corridor, turning back to look at Renji with his usual expressionless face.

Renji shook his head, moving past his captain. “No, it's nothing I can explain, Kuchiki-taichou,” Renji said, finality is his tone. He sure as hell wasn't going to try to explain it to his captain either. That's the last thing he wanted to do.

“I will speak on his behalf,” Kuchiki-taichou said from behind Renji.

The vice-captain, stunned, stopped dead still in surprise. “What? But ya don't have to...”

“On occasion, the Shinigami should exhibit mercy, Abarai-fukutaichou. It is what separates us from the enemy,” his captain explained, moving past him and leaving Renji standing there in the middle of the corridor gaping like a fool. “Now come. You are weeks behind in your paperwork and I am not doing it for you.”

Renji's mouth clamped shut, and he jogged to catch up to his captain's fast pace. “Ah, yes sir. Thank you.”

Kuchiki-taichou inclined his head, and didn't speak again.

Renji couldn't shake off his feeling of relief. That didn't mean he knew why he didn't want to see Ichimaru executed, or why he cared.

Renji figured that it didn't matter. That was the past, right? He should be looking to the future. With Izuru.

Yeah, that sounded just fine to him.

***

a/n: So that’s the end of my pet project. I’m rather happy with how it turned out, everything that I wanted and a little bit extra. Are there some unanswered questions? Maybe just a few. Darn that Ichimaru for being mysterious. Well, I hope you liked it anyway. Thanks for reading!