Speak Softly

By: WhisperedSilvers

Prompt: Fresh air woven into the sea.

Summary: Blood loss is more effective than alcohol. You're spewing your thoughts either way. —Hitsugaya/Rukia

A fist within the chest left destruction in her path. Blood—poison if she really thinks about the broken limbs and crushed organs that splatter onto her uniform from deadly, deadly hollows. Her fingers twitch when her bones feel like steel rather than wood and the sun isn't warm, but cool; cool enough to have goosebumps pucker exposed, scratched flesh.

"You alright, Kuchiki?" Captain Hitsugaya appears next to her, he has a scratch on his cheek, his haori is ripped jaggedly and he has blood dripping from the side of his ear onto his clavicle. His eyes are bright and alive.

She blinks once, wondering if he's really in front of her before she nods, she slashes her zanpakuto against the air, the force of the blow has the blood splash against the grass, sheathing her zanpakuto she replies after a pause, "I am fine."

He raises an eyebrow before commenting dryly, "You don't look fine."

Rukia bites her tongue, before looking around the perimeter, she asks quickly, "Where is Ichigo?"

She purposefully deflects the question. He notices of course, it's his job, but judging from the wounds and bruises that decorate her skin, he doesn't push, but answers her just as quickly, "With Matsumoto—they're finishing up the other hollows."

She doesn't still, but she very much wants to.

He continues, flickering his eyes up to sky, "They aren't high-level hollows. They should be fine."

Her shoulders relax a fraction; he catches the muscles that expand from the corner of his eye.

"I see," Is all she says.

It's raining again and the water stings her wounds. Stinging, broken capillaries and blood vessels, the blood diluting into a brick red, streaming down her clothes and her fist doesn't loosen.

"Are you alright, Kuchiki?" Hitsugaya asks again and this time he looks at her. His eyes are intense teal and she wonders briefly, randomly, at her stupidity, how she ever thought this man might have been his older brother—they had the very same eyes. Not jaded and not innocent, bright and it glints like broken glass. With a man's body and masculine everything—she hadn't known that she could feel this… powerless beneath his gaze or even his words.

"Yeah," She finally says, even then, she knows it's a lie.

It rolls onto the next morning, the thunder and even more rain. Sode no Shirayuki is restless, her zanpakuto humming with reiatsu, she glints next to Zangetsu. Ichigo raises an eyebrow, but doesn't comment—

"—I'm fine!" Rukia growls flinching away from Renji, burying herself deeper into the corner of Ichigo's bed where the bed meets the wall.

"Rukia—you have three broken ribs! Let me bandage you, please!" Renji pleads, trying to grab her arms and pull her closer. She kicks him in the stomach; he tumbles lying flat on the floor.

Ichigo stares at her with exasperation, "Rukia. Listen to yourself. You're injured, you idiot."

"I said I'm fine!" Rukia replies with irritation, she didn't want anyone bandaging her, especially if they see this gash on her back, not only would they send her back to the Soul Society, she would be taken off the shinigami roster for at least a month. Her mouth presses together in a fine line and the headache beneath her left eyelid pulses.

"Rukia—Rangiku is patrolling, she can't bandage you. Let me do it! I promise I won't peek," The redhead groans, sitting up in arresting position.

Violet orbs narrows, if he thinks that she's worried about him peeking on her, he's got another thing coming. That is not her main concern, that moronic—

"What happened?" Captain Hitsugaya's voice enters the room, it bellows and the weight of his gaze falls on her. Teal eyes brighten and dim, like candlelight, and she tries not to swallow at the raw power he exudes.

"Rukia won't let me bandage her ribs!" Renji snarls, oblivious to the ice-captain's warning glare.

"Nee-san, please!" Kon pleads, his arm grabbing her, soft claws pressing into the flesh of her forearm.

The pressure causes her to shift her weight to her back and she flinches. It's a small movement, but the captain with eyes sharper than blades catches the reflex and within heartbeats he's in front of her grabbing her shoulders, pulling her into his hard chest and she stiffens—bouncing off planes of muscles.

She yelps, "Captain Hitsugaya—"

He's at least, two heads taller than her and she wants to yell at the discrimination—Gods, she probably lost a lot of blood to be thinking this—height of all things now, her brain is misty, like clouds – smoke, thrumming in her head and her headache throbs. She's vaguely aware of his hands sliding on her back, pulling the back of her haori, watching the blood—so much blood, stick and cake onto her back.

The voice distorts, it's remnant of a curse and it falls brokenly on half-heard ears. Her ribs are back together and she can breathe properly—that's kido, she thinks hazily, the light blue of his hands on her ribs, but now her head is on the bed and the world is black.

Rukia isn't asleep for long. Maybe a half-hour, she wakes up the feel her lower back numb, warm, heavy and a bit uncomfortable. Her back is cold—bare and exposed. She tenses, she's naked—bareback and at least her bottom is covered, but there is someone on her back.

"What the hell—" She shifts her head to the right, hips wiggling and tries to lift her chest up—her face burns. She remembers she's naked at least halfway so she tries to bury herself into Ichigo's bed.

She's naked on Ichigo's bed.

She's horrified.

"Keep still, Kuchiki!"

It's Captain Hitsugaya—on her back.

Rukia blinks with disbelief, she shifts her head to the right before squawking, "What are you doing?!"

Teal orbs flicker to side-cut purple, half with irritation and half with amusement, before pressing his cold hands onto her back, harder, before replying hastily, "Healing you." After a pause, he scowls, "What the hell were you thinking? You're bleeding like a goddamn river, forget your pride and get some help—"

"Captain Hitsugaya," Rukia started off with annoyance coating her tone, "It was Renji. Do you honestly expect me to let Renji bandage me?"

He pauses in his ministrations, before accepting that as a logical explanation, his voice is rough, but understanding nonetheless, "Alright. I understand."

She rolls her eyes as discreetly as possible. She's tired, she's in pain and she does not—absolutely not have the patience to deal with an argument based on mannerisms and etiquette.

Hitsugaya continues, "Except that wasn't the real reason. Explain yourself Kuchiki."

Rukia purposefully deflects the question with one of her own; she asks gruffly, "Why are you healing me?"

His eyes widen almost comically and the kido in his hands disappear, he questions with incredulity, "Do you not want me to heal you?"

She really needs to think before speaking, but her head is light and her tongue dry, "N-No, I mean," She inhales shakily and exhales, "I didn't know you can heal."

Hitsugaya is healing her again. He tries to be rational, estimating the amount of blood she loss, with nearly three-quarter of her reiatsu drained and the amount of energy she has to be awake—it's a hallucination.

"I can. Usually it's just myself," He admits quietly, he runs his hand down her spine, taking in the small indents of muscles, "If I heal anything else, it usually just freezes and is destroyed." He knits the flesh back together, and he continues, "But we share the same element. The same…essence, compatibility—rather than rejecting my reiatsu, you accept it."

Rukia tries to think, but his hands are warm and his reiatsu even warmer, even if there is frost crystalizing on her wounds – she can't feel it. She smiles a bit, "Give and take."

He coughs, but it sounds like a chuckle.

She isn't entirely sure, she knows that he knows, that she purposefully deflected his question, even though he should push it out of her, he doesn't. Her pink lips twist quietly, so she answers him airily, "Didn't want them to worry. Lieutenant Matsumoto wasn't here, I was going to wait for her, but those idiots are…not exactly the smartest tools in the shed."

Hitsugaya blinks at her answer, not expecting her to answer, but he's pleased nonetheless. He frowns at her recklessness, her answer is broken, and structure not coherent but it makes sense—enough sense as it is. "I see."

The fog is disappearing – slowly, but surely. She can see better now, perhaps she can stop her thoughts from becoming words, hopefully. Rukia, slowly, too slow for her liking, notice her clothes on the ground—in shreds.

"Why are my clothes destroyed?" Rukia asks, her eyes wide and she can barely her shock out of her voice.

Hitsugaya raises an eyebrow, "Your blood soaked into your skin, clothes – I had to get rid of it."

"So you decided to rip it off?"

"Embarrassed? "

He's smirking, she's sure of it.

Rukia grits her teeth, annoyance answering for her rather than her manners, "Not really, I'm already half-naked with a grown man on my back. What else shall I add to the growing list?"

Hitsugaya snorts before removing his legs from either side of her hips, the weight disappearing over her back and she could breathe much—much easier. He tosses his haori over her shoulders, and her violet widens as she sits up—facing the corners of the wall and straps the haori—dress over her tiny figure, she doesn't tie it just yet, because she felt something, something brushing the hairs of her neck.

She turns and opens her mouth to say something. Her mouth shuts close, if there was anything, anything to prepare her for the sight of Captain Hitsugaya's bare chest, she would have taken it—a million times over.

Rukia may be a shinigami, a soul reaper—a fucking solider, but she's a woman through and through. Even she can appreciate the sight of a bare man's chest, muscles, and the dryness in her mouth certainly made a tickle crawl up her throat.

Her eyes waters and she can't help but cough.

Hitsugaya is in front of her, bare-chested and dear Gods—she tries not to flinch when he presses her onto the mattress, she blinks rapidly wondering if this is a strange dream, a terrible—terrible dream, that she needs to wake up from right now or she—

"Rest," His voice is rough and this is very, very strange, because he's touching her and she wonders if she's making a big deal out of this, her senses are still distorted, but it's dull now—but still there. "You've lost a lot of blood—"

The door slams open and the two teenagers stagger in, red hair and all.

Renji starts first, "Rukia are you okay? We heard talking, we assumed that you had woken up—"

His sentence is cut off, eyes widening and he can't stop his jaw from hanging over. He can't speak, can't talk, but stare with incredulity at the scene in front of him.

"Renji," Ichigo growls, "You're blocking the door you, ass!" He kicks his back and he's sprawling onto the floor, the orange-haired man walks through the doorway and continues for his idiot friend, "Rukia, Yuzu is making some—"

Amber eyes aren't quite sure if they've fallen off his master's face. Because Hitsugaya is pressing Rukia onto his mattress and she's nearly shirtless, and that's his shirt she's wearing. Her face is not pale, but flushed—so flushed that he can see the pink run down her neck, across her collarbone to the valley of her breasts—eyes widening with everyone piece of skin his eyes can map—

Rukia chucks his manga book at his head, scowling, before pulling the haori over her body, "I expected better of you, Ichigo!"

"What the hell do you expect me to do, Rukia?" He scowls, rubbing his nose as the book bounces of his face, "You're not even wearing a proper shirt," He pauses, ember in his eyes, flickering his gaze over to Hitsugaya, "I should've known you would've tried something—when you kicked us out."

Rukia's jaw cracks at the audacity.

Hitsugaya doesn't take the bait. He ignores the substitute, turning to face the female shinigami, his eyes widen slightly when he realizes that she's pressing the haori a bit too tightly around her chest, and he's uncomfortable, he tries to shift his gaze to her face, his eyes lingering a bit too long on her neck, "Kuchiki – I still have to bandage you,"

She notices what he's looking at, the red on his ears and his gruff voice, and she is not amused. She hisses like a cat, "I can do it myself, Captain Hitsugaya."

He frowns, annoyed with her tone, "Kuchiki—"

"And stop ogling me!" Rukia snaps, the blood loss has her giving no fucks, she's still dizzy and her face is hot.

Hitsugaya is torn between embarrassment of being caught and incredulity, he replies just as fast, "I was not ogling! I was healing you!"

"Don't think I didn't catch your eyes places they shouldn't have been!"

His cool disappears, he scowls, "You're insufferable!"

"I'm insufferable?" Rukia growls, "If I tell Nii-sama, what you were doing—then we'll see who's insufferable!"

Renji pales.

The fact that she openly threatened him with her older brother did not make matters any better, first of all, she would never—never run to her brother with her problems, second of all—were his eyes brighter? She blinks trying to focus on gems, but his eyes are trailing down her neck again—

Rukia ties the haori quickly and glares at the man with white hair.

"Your brother likes me Rukia, don't be ridiculous—"

She snorts, interrupting him, her mouth is dry, but she still speaks, "Whom is he going to believe, a captain or his little sister?"

Hitsugaya glares daggers and she smirks.

She's delirious all right, so much that she's arguing with a Captain.

And then, she pales—drastically.

She sways, a deep-root fear of falling off the bed, she blinks trying to steady – steady her heart? Or breath? When did she start breathing so fast? Her face is warm – way too warm, and she's shaking.

Hitsugaya is still on her; he pushes her down, gently as possible, eyes bright and clear. He's warm, she notices, and she's very—very cold. Her body is tense all over, but he's saying slowly—at least she thinks he's speaking slowly, "I got you, I got you, I got you."

He's repeating it over and over, and then she's on the bed, her back on soft cushion. He makes a quick motion with his fingers, there's water in a glass, she's thirsty, oh so thirsty.

"Slowly," Captain Hitsugaya soothes, he helps her drink, and holding the glass, and watches as her lips take even sips. "You're running a fever because you lost too much blood. Relax."

His lips are pink, Rukia notice, really, really pink and she wants to know, so she asks, "Are you wearing lipstick?"

She takes pleasure in watching his shocked face and Ichigo's muted laugh.

"What?" Tone incredulous.

"You're lips are pink—pinker than mine," She frowns at how unfeminine she is, "You have to be wearing lipstick."

Hitsugaya doesn't know whether to laugh or frown, so he settles with annoyance, "I am not wearing lipstick."

"Coulda' fooled me," Rukia replies, she's slurring.

"You need to sleep." Hitsugaya is firm when he says this, her hands grab his cheeks and she pulls.

His face hurts and he's in so much shock that he can't speak. Her friends disappear and he doesn't notice until now.

"Captain Hitsugaya's Nii-sama—"

"I don't have an older brother, Kuchiki—"

"Why are you going back to using my clan name?" She asks with genuine curiosity, he manages to pull her hands down from his face.

He blinks, not sure how to answer, "I—I," He pauses, "Don't know?"

"Call me Rukia~" She grins now, he manages to cover her with sheets—evading her kicking legs and her outburst of how hot it is. "Captain Hitsugaya's Nii-sama~"

A snowy eyebrow twitches, before he scowls and repeats, "Rukia, I do not have an older brother."

Rukia blinks at the switch, but smiles brightly. "You're using my name~"

Hitsugaya wants to slam his head against the wall, but replies curtly, "Yes."

"All my friends use my name, Cap'n."

"I am not your friend—"

"Stop being so difficult, adult Hitsugaya needs to stop acting like child Hitsugaya—"

Rukia stops herself because she thinks that she's talking to much, just as a cough rattles the inside of her lungs and she sees blood dribble down her chin—terror clouds her eyes.

Captain Hitsugaya with alarm, parts her haori quickly, hand glowing over her heart and she's sputtering, "What did I tell you—you pervert!"

"Rukia, please. I'm trying to help you," Hitsugaya pleads with exasperation, eyes earnest, his hands is on her chest, but he's looking at her face—the blood is thick and clots into lumps.

If she notices the panic she doesn't say anything, she blinks again, purple eyes dim, before she whispers brokenly, "M' tired."

"You need to rest," He soothes her, it's cold, her chest, but his hand is warm—warming her everywhere. "I'll try to reverse some of the damage."

Rukia's delirious, he knows that for a while, but he isn't quite sure if she's coherent when she replies, "You gonna keep molesting me?"

He plays along for some strange reason; one hand reaches and wipes away the blood from her mouth, his own mouth twitching, "As long as you want."

Rukia's laugh is clear and she's asleep.

Delirious Rukia—drunk Rukia is a cute Rukia.

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