Set right after the TYBW concludes; AU in that Rukia, Ichigo and Ishida all defeated Ywach side-by-side. Extra AU bc they’re happy. Blocks of italics are lyrics from this song!
Since we found out that we’re invincible-
Ichigo chases off all the warmth in Seireitei.
From sweeping ground to pillar-top to water body of reservoir at mountain peak, and it pools to her gut from the air swathing around him with the kind of exhilarated rasp only stars should be capable of. Like a wildfire, dancing and lighting the air in a maelstrom of midnight embers, and iron, and ozone tang. She tastes the heat on the tongue; lets it thaw her bankai to slithers of fine glass-cut ice. Shimmering, and shrinking under her fingertips - too easily swayed by the breath he gives, by the way his face cracks open with a laugh; by the way he digs Zangetsu into the ground either side like two, great columns.
(Shirayuki tells her she can move).
From a distance she must look porcelain. Ice does that, he had quipped once, with feather-touches and the kind of susceptible tenderness he reserved for well-worn days. (She wants his same fingers on her hips). Water dribbles down her cupid’s bow and onto her lips; past her chin; soaks dark beige into the tip of her waraji. As she blinks (for feeling), the ice in her lashes sting her cheeks.
She has never felt so alive.
He looks golden, immersed in the glowing ball of Seireitei’s sun - drenched, as he should be. She wonders how soon until dusk, and the moon lights him up as something else. She wonders how soon until she can work her legs, and the exhilaration manifests into something else other than sheer exhaustion and burnt breaths. Ywach is gone. Ywach is gone.
Ichigo discards both swords, staggering free with an odd lightness before he stumbles blearily into Ishida’s path, and buries a fist into the thick, dirtied white of his Quincy uniform. There is a fierce kind of possessiveness in the grip he returns. She catches a hint of a rough thank you, and maybe an insult, if the rumbling return of Ishida’s reiatsu is any tell-tale sign - and it is. It hangs over her with a joyful ebb and flow of free-water rivers; Ichigo calls him an idiot, again, and claps his back with a blustering smile.
And when he finally turns to her, haloed in light like some great eclipse, it feels like drinking in all of the unspoken words in the world.
She finds her joints work. She finds the ice pooling on the ground beneath her like mountain-peak reservoirs- “Ichigo.”
Ywach is gone.
Ichigo presses this tightly enough into her shoulders. She doesn’t need to, but if she reached out a hand to feel for their reiatsu, she knows she would find it entangled like some impossible algorithm of the universe, banded around and throughout them both with a weightless ultimatum. Through flesh and sinew and bone.
If a heart is the people around you, where is the soul? Can you entrust it to just one?
(Or is it already decided?)
She knows where hers rests.
His hands climb down to take her weight and he brings her to his chest in a weak, half-sustained hug, too exhausted to want much else but her flush against his skin; to feel her breath at his chest and through his Shihakushō’s wounds. Ichigo Kurosaki never settles. Or has never settled for much, but he would settle for this moment in infinite repeats: this solace, the way Seireitei seems to sigh beneath them both. The way the air is no longer thick and armed with dark rolling clouds and reiatsu hungry enough to swallow them. The way Rukia slips into his arms as if moulded for his touch. The itch of ice remnants at his eyes; down his throat; cooling the blistering heat of his own energy.
Since we decided to be infinite-
There’s no ending and there’s no fear.