Yeah, I know. I have two other stories to get cracking on. Well, I'm working on it. I've started the next chapters to both of them. But this thing was freaking haunting my sleep, and I just really wanted to do this one-shot. Yes, that's what it is. A one-shot. Haha, if you didn't know that, then you're really bad at reading summaries all the way through. :l

Anyways, here's all that stupid shit I need to get on with it.

Summary: Within the walls of a destroyed city a woman whose heart is as black as her hair and a man who can't find redemption will build something with this sadness. No longer will they perish. The only way to live is to thrive. (This was to make sure you clicked the right story.)

Pairing: Toshiro Hitsugaya & Rukia Kuchiki.

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything. So leave me alone. I'm too tired.

To answer questions before they begin, this was never a real war. The time period is 1900s. Don't know what country. Don't care. Use your imagination.

You want to get on with the show, no?

Enjoy!


He watched.

He was tired of this. Blood spurting the cobblestoned ground, wails of anguished men and cries of children as their lives were mercilessly ripped away from their sluggish bodies. He was sick of people reaching out to him, just because he was different, just because he was immune. He wasn't their savior, nor was he their freedom. He was never their hero, just as they were never his friends. In all truth, he didn't give a damn about their souls. All of the men, women, and children looked at him in that way. They had hated him, loathed him, laughed at him when his back was turned. Until they were suddenly put into danger. And as he rose from the darkness, unscathed, they all cried for his protection, his safety.

But he never answered. He simply watched. He watched as their bloodied flesh left hand prints against the walls, and their cries stained the air. At first, it had been somewhat pleasurable. Strolling down the stony streets, watching as his old enemies were shot by the government.

It was a stupid war, really. Idiotic. Terrible. Truly the epitome of ruthlessness. He wouldn't really know, he didn't know the rules. Something happened about politics, somebody did something really stupid, somebody else got really pissed off, and, in the end, a lot of people paid the ultimate price.

But not him. Never him.

His soul had hardened, turned dark. He wanted to leave that city, but couldn't find the courage to. Instead, he was stuck. He turned away from the buildings, but something always motioned and pulled him backwards. He was helpless.

So he roamed these streets. None of the armed guards noticed him, and even if they did, they didn't dare go near him. They had all heard dangerous rumors of the white haired, black clothed boy. Politicians didn't want to deal with him, because he wasn't legally doing anything wrong. Soldiers didn't want to fight him, and, in return, he didn't attempt to piss them off or get in their way.

And he remembered her nightly raven hair, and dark violet eyes, searching, praying, for some lost hope. He spent one night with her, caressed by soft touches and moans of pleasure. He thought often of how easily her body molded into his, and how their icy souls melted the barriers, breaking the dams, and creating a flood of passion.

He remembered finding her. Another lost soul that was glued to these walls like a marionette that was helpless without its master. She had looked so petite, but he saw beyond all of those fronts, like staring through the clearest waters. Behind her petite exterior, was a tough woman who had seen as much bloodshed as him. She had acted shy, but after a quick probing, proven herself sharp, shaven by the world that had taken just as much from her as everyone else. There was only one difference. She was strong enough to survive.

However, like an onion, he peeled her back, layer by layer. There was her shy front, her flight mode. Behind that was her cold, touch exterior, her fighting mode. However, even deeper, was a person who was just as tired as himself of this pointless battle, of searching for something, but not quite sure.

He remembered hearing her quiet breathing as he stepped inside one of the only stony building left standing as a wild fire rampaged the west half of the city, the houses victims of multiple bombings. Both seeking shelter, they wound up in the same house, and with hardly a word, they ended up in the same room.

He stared into her violet eyes, not quite sure what to make of this mystical being. He had thought he was alone, and he was alone. She was barely ten feet away, but she was so far.

"It's too dark to see." Had been his first remark, as he took a place next to her on the bed. She hadn't replied, not a word, not a smirk, not any reaction except for a slight shift as she offered him part of the quilt she was using. He accepted.

Minutes passed, as the two stared glumly out of the window. Indeed, the ash was so prominent in a wind that was kicking up it was too dark to see. The room was practically black, only the soft outlines of each other's bodies were loud enough for the other to see.

"They talk about you." Her voice stunned him. It was so soft, almost gentle, but, at the same time, ringing with self confidence. "They say things. That you're a mage, or a hero, that refuses to save everyone."

"How do you know they're talking about me?" He retorted, without glancing at her, knowing it was a stupid question. He just wanted to make sure she talked for a while longer.

She seemed to sense his intentions, and he felt her smirk slightly. "There aren't many white haired turquoise eyed men wandering around a dying city very often. I assumed they were talking about you."

He eyed her softly, letting his teal gaze graze her up and down. She had fine, high cheekbones, and thick lips. Her eyebrows her thin, slight, and long, while her large eyes peered back into his own. "What do they say?"

Surprisingly, her smirk curved and slithered until it transformed into a slight smile, that was only centimeters away from reaching her irises. He didn't say anything, though. Perhaps that was his first mistake. "They used to laugh at you, didn't they?" She inquired. Taking his mouth which was now frowning slightly as an affirmative, she plowed onwards. "They don't regret it. They expect you to help them, though. They want you to. They see you, wandering, and are mad you don't do anything. But they don't dare approach you until their dying moments. They're pathetic. They think you're a hero, but you're not, aren't you?"

He didn't answer right away, instead marveling at this girl's features. No. She wasn't a girl. She was a woman. She was strong, with a tinge of sadness and lost buried deep into her soul. She was like him. Her heart was as black as her hair, she was broken inside. She was alone, icy, isolated.

He answered slowly. "They were never meant to be in the first place." was his quick answer. "They could laugh at me all they wanted, but we all knew what was going to happen inevitably." He turned his gaze back to hers, and for more than a moment she was captivated by his cerulean orbs. "I'm a hero with no superpowers. I'm not the savior of this town. It was never meant to be saved."

She nodded knowingly. She didn't need any more explanation. She wasn't stupid. She was simply scared, and she was lonely.

So, the two icy souls suck something within the other, searching for solace in the other's arm. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her closer. She nestled deeper into his grasp, and in that moment, their hearts seemed to merge, and the ice in their souls seemed to melt as he melded his lips with her own.

Flashes.

Warm bodies. Cold sweat.

Caress.

Seventy two hours. Seventy two hours of two empty souls on the colder half of the bed, feeling a little warm.

Passion.

Just seventy two hours of long gentle kisses and no place to go.

Tick. Tock.

He saw her, in the morning, as she rose tenderly from the bed. Small specks of blood littered the bed and the hard wooden floor. She moved sorely, and he kept himself from smirking. Who would have guessed she was a virgin? He wouldn't say a thing.

They pulled on their clothes, which had been so carelessly strewn about the floor. She sat down on the bed listlessly, staring hard at him.

It took him a moment to turn and face her gaze, and when he did, he almost regretted it. The sun which now appeared with the ash gone illuminated her icy skin beautifully. Her large eyes, which were tough and alluring in the darkness, now seemed soft and almost delicate. He wanted to envelope her in his arms, and make all the pain disappear.

He approached her slowly, his chest still exposed while his black shirt lay crumpled underneath the bed. She didn't flinch, nor move away as he raised a hand to caress her soft check, letting his thumb rub against her flesh. She closed her eyes, and an almost invisible smile stroked her lips. He leaned down and brushed his cold lips against her soft ones. They received him eagerly, pressing deeper into his. He placed his other hand on the back of her neck, his white hair blending deeper with her black. She raised her hands until they touched his chest, tracing his sculpted abs.

He pulled away slowly and softly, his musky scent lingering on her skin so gently. She stared back at him, enjoying the feel of her lips swelling with his sweet presence. However, her soft eyes hardened slightly, as she understood him genuinely.

"You have to leave." It wasn't a question, and he felt his whole heart breaking as he pulled away and tugged his shirt back over his mussed head. He hated leaving. Fuck, he hated this whole shit hole. She could change, he knew it. He wouldn't stop her. Not until he found what he was looking for.

He turned to look at her one last time, letting his gaze wander over her supple body he had enjoyed so thoroughly. He wouldn't bother denying it. She was beautiful. He knew it then. He loved her. So quickly, so gently it lulled onto him. He swallowed the feeling.

"Yes." He said without facing her, his gaze attached to the wall. He forced himself to turn around and face her, and tried not to sigh at the hardness in her gaze. She was like him, much more like him.

"Rukia." She said softly. He raised a singular eyebrow, and she sighed. "My name. Rukia Kuchiki."

He approached her for the last time, but instead of kissing her on the lips, he pulled her into a strong embrace, forcing his body to remember the feel of her against him. He brushed his lips against her cheeks for a moment, before pulling away.

"Toshiro Hitsugaya." He replied, caressing her hand one more time, before pulling away.

There was no exchange of flower, no talk of love's magic powers, no chance for the relationship to get sour. Just a few days of taking refuge in another's soul. Just a few days of long, caressing touches, and no place to go.

He watched.

The man screamed profanities at the three armed men before him, crying about his children, and blaming the government. From his peripheral vision, he spotted a white haired man. He immediately turned his attention towards the non hero.

"Please!" He screamed. "Save me!" Toshiro Hitsugaya didn't make a move. He simply watched, waiting for the blood spatter. The guards didn't bother to glance at whoever they were screaming at. They knew. They also knew that he would never answer to the man's pleas.

The round of gunshots were a sweet release to his ears. For a few brief seconds, his thoughts were drowned from his head, and his soul was free.

Was that what it meant? To kill?

One of the guards turned and faced the white haired man, his expression unreadable. "We're moving out tomorrow." The guard spoke. Toshiro didn't turn or acknowledge him. "We're done with this place. They're going to set fire to this whole shit storm tomorrow. You might want to get out."

"Thanks for the update." Toshiro muttered softly, before stalking away. The guard shrugged, before returning to his post. Probably returning to his own family.

He wandered down the streets, thoughts nowhere near where he actually was. His thoughts, similar to most of his days, drifted to Rukia. He wondered if she was still in the city. The thought made his heart twinge. He didn't hear much about her. His turquoise eyes blazed, as he set his mouth in a thin line. He would have to find her. He couldn't leave, not knowing if she were to die or not.


From that moment she had seen him, she had known who he was.

So, letting onto that minor fact, why did she let herself fall for him? He was so icy cold, but she had been helpless against his protective grip and musky scent.

Yet, she had known all along. She had known he wasn't the hero. He had even told her. Yet she had trusted him so perfectly, the walls she had built simply crumbled .

She wanted to hate him, but all she could do was love him. He swam in her thoughts, and she barely knew him. His past, what happened, even her past.

She halted suddenly, as she looked at the building she had spent with him. She returned often, and would wander about the inside. The kitchen was ransacked, and most of the rooms were destroyed. Even the original bed had been torn apart.

However, she didn't care. She wasn't some obsessed fan freak. However, memories were the only thing keeping her alive. Just as some strange will to live was keeping her on the guard's good sides, and her search for something was keeping her there.

Unconsciously, she wandered inside. The wooden door had been ripped off its hinges, while bullet holes decorated the turned over tables and fallen pictures. Her feet carried her back to the room. The blood from her sin had dried brown, while the wood beneath it was beginning to bloat.

The bed was upturned, as someone had tried to find anything precious to sell. She didn't mind. She picked up the blanket, easily pulling it from under the bed, and wrapped it around her body. She closed her eyes as his musky scent wrapped around her, whispering protection and safety.

She slumped to the floor, forcing tears from her eyes. He had his own quest, and she wasn't going to stop him. Instead, she rested her back against the bed, and closed her eyes, losing herself in dreams of forever.


Toshiro was beginning to panic.

He had looked in the distance, watching in terror as they lit the town on fire. His heart began to palpitate in his chest.

He had been searching calmly for her. He thought he had the rest of the night. However, obviously they had changed their minds, and had sent the city up in flames. The heat glowed hot against his skin, and as the wind picked up, the ash began to blot out the sky. His panic was rising. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her.

A sudden memory seeped back into his brain. He remembered her, and that house he didn't dare go back to, in fear of her still being there. He turned on his heel, and, bunching his muscles, bolted down the streets, going back to the place he would never be able to forget.

Who knows what awoke Rukia? It could have been the heat, or perhaps the ash that was swirling around her face, or maybe even the sound of wood crashing to the ground. All she knew was that one moment she was asleep, focused in deep fantasies, and the next, she was wide awake, panic tearing at her instincts as she fought to regain all her senses while avoiding the flames that were awakened around her.

She sprinted towards the front door, coughing as she inhaled smoke. It stung at her eyes, while it raged all around her, licking closer, small fingers snapping through the air.

She skidded through one hall, and stopped short.

The front door was aflame, crackling as the red hot heat seared through the air. She glanced behind her, only to see that she was surrounded in a ring of fire.

White hot terror began to blind her now. She was frozen, immobile, unable to move. It was as if all her muscles had frozen. She couldn't move.

"Rukia!" A voice snapped her out of her trance. Between the flames, she saw a flash of white, while teal eyes peered at her. Her heart leaped with joy, while her shattered heart seemed to revive.

"Run, Rukia! I've got you!" She didn't even know what she was doing. She simply bolted. All she wanted was to reach him, to be back into his embrace. She didn't feel the flames flickering at her clothes, not even the heat. All she focused on what Toshiro's gaze, as he sprinted towards her, his white hair not even dulled by the ash.

He couldn't describe his terror as she ran through the flames. That wasn't what he met, all he knew was that suddenly, she was in his arms, her face buried in his neck. He wrapped her arms around her, and before she could protest, he lifted her until he was carrying her bridal style. Turning towards the outskirts of the city, he scattered away from the ash and the flames, his life in his arms.

Traveling was a blur for Rukia. She could barely register her own joy as she inhaled his scent and buried herself as far as she could into his grasp. He complied by tightening his grip on her. This made her even happier. She knew he wasn't going to let go.

He set her down gently, but didn't let go. He would never let go of her again. They stared back down at the town, engulfed in flames. She nestled her back into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, while resting his chin on her head.

"It's all gone." She whispered, her voice thick. Not with sadness, but with confusion, as if she didn't know what to do.

He knew that feeling. He had spent his whole life in the fucking place. Yet, it was worth it. He had his future, his life, right in front of him.

It was then when he realized what he had been searching for, but could never find. His light, his redemption. What he never had pulled him back to the city, and when he found it, he couldn't leave. It was his job to grasp what he needed and to pull it back.

He buried his nose into her hair, breathing in her sweet scent, and relishing in it. "Yes, but I don't need it anymore."

Rukia felt chills run up her spine. She was his, and he was hers. She would never be able to let go of this. She could never leave.

"It's sad. So many deaths." She somewhat persisted, trying to get a reaction out of him. He paused, before tightening his grip slightly.

"Then let's take it, Rukia." He murmured into her ear. Her eyes widened a bit, as her breath caught in her throat. He persisted. "Let's take this sadness. I don't want to perish anymore. The only way for us to live is to thrive. So let's take it. Let's morph it and twist it until it's our happiness, our freedom."

She turned in her arms, until she faced him. The fire blazed against his bronze skin, lighting all of his features into a handsome fire. His soft eyes gazed down at her, reading her face. She shivered. All that had happened, she didn't care anymore. Yes, they would take that sadness, and turn it into something else. Something beautiful. It would be his and hers. Theirs. Ours.

"Yes." She agreed softly. "Ours."

For the first time, he smiled genuinely. He pressed his lips to hers, and she found herself enveloped in him.

He watched.

He watched as their relationship grew. Not true love, but something more. Passion. Pure and fiery, as their lips touched, and something melded. Between the two ice wielders came a true passion, as all barriers broke, and redemption was revealed. Redemption in each other. Love in each other.

And you said, she said, please. Please. I don't need to be freed, nor do I need you to buy me expensive jewelry or even talk about how much you would love to love me. I don't need you to talk about all the crazy shit you would do to help me breathe nor do I need to be in your dreams. I just need you with me from the time you rise to the time you slide back between the sheets and you need your sleep. I promise I'll stay as long as you continue to appreciate without having to talk about all the things in our wake or how much time it should take for the two of us to feel this way. So let's take this sadness, and flow it away, for you and I, we're just that hell bent on change.


Eh, it was alright. I sort of expected it to be shorter, but I couldn't stop, it just kept coming. I was thinking of stopping it after the italics, but I really wanted them to end up together, because I'm just that much of a fangirl.

Sorry if there are grammatical mistakes, but I really didn't want to go back through and change all that shit. I just wanted to write this and then get it published. Reviews are appreciated though, but flames are not. Anyways, hope you enjoyed it. Don't worry, I'll focus on my other fics soon. I'll get on it. I promise I'll update by Sunday.