Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Return ❯ Return ( One-Shot )

Title: Return

Characters: Ichigo

Rating: K

Warning: None

Words: 500 exactly

Description: All that matters in the end. Takes place after the “end” of the Hueco Munco Arc.

Disclaimer: I own not Bleach; Tite Kubo does. I'm merely borrowing.

 

This is an entry for the Maximum Challenge April Drabble

 

 

He was tired and bloody, everything aching. He felt stretched thin and drawn tight, memories playing over and over. But he wasn't about to stop moving. Not when he was so close.

 

Urahara-san had offered to give him a room for the night after the worst of his wounds had been patched. Ichigo had turned him down. He didn't want to spend another night away from his own room and his own bed, even with its Quincy sheets.

 

He had done what he needed to do, rescuing Orihime and defeating the enemy. Or well enough of them at any rate. The war would still continue; he hadn't been able to do anything about that. At least, not for a few more hours. He wanted rest.

 

Ossan was tired. Shirosaki was weary. His zanpakutou was a heavy, leaden weight on his back, proving the fatigue of his entire soul.

 

Ichigo flitted across Karakura using shunpo and the last of his energy. The town was quiet and still beneath him, not even a Hollow present. Safe for another day. Aizen's plans had been foiled, but Ichigo was certain the man would be back again with something even more devious.

 

There was so much that could have gone wrong, so many people he could have lost. They had faced death in that place, on those empty white sands and under that black sky with its lone moon. Against Arrancar and Espada whose strength seemed absurd.

 

He tried not to dwell on it, but the calluses on his hands, the ache in his muscles, were all the reminder he needed. War was such a terrible, ugly thing.

 

Ichigo slowed his steps, his destination swiftly approaching. All of the lights were off, his house quiet and serene. It was still standing, and he felt a surge of relief for that.

But his window was open, Quincy curtains waving in the breeze. As if someone knew to leave it that way for him.

 

He landed deftly on the windowsill, catching sight of Kon curled up on his bed. The mod soul in his body hadn't even stirred. No surprise there.

 

Ichigo crept inside, landing soundlessly on his floor. Everything familiar rose up to greet him. The faint scent of last night's dinner. His dad's outrageous cologne and snores from the next room. Even Yuzu and Karin's murmuring was indistinct, both of them talking in their sleep.

 

It made his heart ache somehow.

 

He rifled around in his room, locating the stuffed lion. Within moments, Kon was back in it, and he was slipping into his own body. There were lingering traces of discomfort; Kon always did make his own niche.

 

The mod-soul didn't fuss. Just looked at him with those knowing black eyes. He didn't ask. He merely flopped down, on Ichigo's stomach no less, and returned to sleep. Ichigo didn't mind, not when his bed felt so comfortable and he was warm and alive.

 

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

 

Home at last.