The Means Of My Destruction

"I d-don't…want t-to die. Please don't let it k-kill me…" whispered Jyuushiro fearfully, as he slowly choked to death, eyes wide. Shunsui looked down at the pale, bloody man in his arms and sighed deeply. He hated it when his best friend became this delirious. Yet, he had never heard Jyuushiro beg for his life. Never.

It chilled his very bones.

"It's okay, it'll be over soon," reassured Shunsui gently, as he stroked the waist length, white hair. He could feel the Jyuushiro's violent trembles and burning skin; he could see the cloudy, unfocused eyes and the crimson splatters; he could taste the sake he was drinking before his friend was betrayed by his own body; he could hear the wracking, hoarse coughs and the blood bubbling in the back of Jyuushiro's throat. Yet, as horrible as it seemed, he was used to the sounds. He didn't cringe or flinch when the scarlet fountain erupted from his best friend's mouth. He didn't call for anyone either, for he knew they could do nothing more for him than they had that morning. Instead, he merely sat there, cradling the 13th Division Captain in his arms, waiting for the attack to subside.

Oh, but he was worried. Very much so. With each harsh cough that echoed throughout the room, his poor heart shattered. With every whimper the white-haired man made, he gripped him tighter, as if his life depended on it.

Which, in a way, it did.

Shh...

Listen to the silence.

The ticker has stopped.

After My Apocalypse

Kyoraku Shunsui walked through the long corridors in the Shinigami Academy, brown eyes lowered, his Captains haori flowing out dejectedly behind him like a cape. His pace was slow, and his posture hunched, as if he had the world of his shoulders. The rough stubble on his aged cheeks that he had been so proud of, that he had kept as neat as he could in the past, could now be counted as a beard, wild and spiralling outwards. His trademark symbol, the pink women's haori, was gone (although where to, nobody knew). The long, rich, curly, brown locks were missing too. Instead, his hair was cut short, much like he had it in the Academy all those many centuries ago, and the pale brunette colour was flecked with grey. He never looked around – his gaze was frozen on nothing in particular, although it seemed to have some kind of meaning to it.

He was now just an old man reminiscing.

A gang of kids suddenly rushed past him, all shouting and laughing loudly. Shunsui looked up and took a sharp breath; a boy with white hair ran seemingly in slow motion at the back of the horde of students, with pallid skin, chocolate eyes and a bright smile fastened on his face.

Shunsui blinked. Then, before he could stop himself, his mouth opened and he said quietly "Jyuushiro?"

The boy paused and turned halfway around, not sure whether the comment was directed at him. His dark eyes caught sight of the white Captains haori, and he quickly bowed. "I apologise, Kyoraku-taichou! I didn't realise you were there! I'm sorry for running into you!"

"No, no, no," replied Shunsui, a small smile gracing his lips, "You didn't bump into me. I'm fine. Go on."

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir!" The student rushed onwards to catch up with his friends, but not before staring worriedly at the 8th Division Captain. Shunsui pulled down his wide-brim hat, the only garment he had kept from the old times, and turned away, feeling the tears falling.