A/N: Thank you so much to those who reviewed Rebirth. I was quite screwed over because I've been trying to write out this fanfic so that it's as good as Rebirth. Don't want to disappoint the audience now, do we?

Anyways, the usual: R&R! Let me know what you think and how I pulled this one off.

Disclaimer: Do not own Bleach.

This is a response to The Muse Bunny's Prompt #1: Rain.

Kenpachi let out a low growl as big fat droplets smacked him on the forehead. He had been forced into attending another one of those boring as fuck captains' meetings that discussed nothing but pure bullshit. His mood was only getting darker and darker by the second and wasn't in any way improving now that a fuckin' downpour was about to start. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Ukitake and Kyoraku walking side by side, with the drunkard suggesting to his best friend to take the evening off and indulge in sake. Kenpachi felt a sneer tugging at the corners of his mouth as he pondered about how it would be like to battle both of the captains at once. It would have been one hell of a fight if Ukitake hadn't sensed the man's rapidly growing excitement in his reiatsu and steered Shunsui clear of him.

Fuckin' pansies.

The captain of the 11th Division Squad glared at the backs of their white haori, one with the kanji character of number eight and the other of number thirteen, as the two of them ducked under Kyoraku's floral kimono and raced through the rain. They were crazy. All of them. They had the power, the strength to take down any Hollow, and combined with their respective bankai, they were forces not to be trifled with. But despite their obvious skill and talents, neither showed the desire to fight. How could they not enjoy fighting? Kenpachi couldn't figure it out.

One by one his fellow captains departed the meeting hall. Some had brought umbrellas ahead of time. Saying that they could predict the weather was not an accurate statement. Dark clouds had started to roll in long before the meeting was called for. In fact, it would actually be surprising if it didn't rain. Kuchiki had his lieutenant waiting for him with a rather expensive-looking umbrella, and he gave Abarai a curt nod when the younger male bowed in respect.

"Afraid to get wet, Zaraki-taichou?" said Kuchiki. It was mockery of pure Kuchiki Byakuya essence and it took Kenpachi all his might to refrain from burying a fist into that smug-as-fuck pretty-boy face.

"Shut the fuck up, princess," he snarled, showing his sharp canine tooth a little too much for comfort. Byakuya blinked, taken aback by the man's reaction. Whenever they had one of their tongue-lashing conversations, all they would do was exchange insults. It never came down to telling the other party to 'shut the fuck up.' To Byakuya, it was more like a threat that went along the lines of 'shut the fuck up or I swear I'll fuckin' slaughter ye' with extra emphasize on the word whose equal was 'murder.' Without so much as a subtle glance sideways at him, Byakuya left the fuming Kenpachi to himself.

Fuck you. Go to fuckin' hell and rot in there ye lousy-ass son-ovva-bitch, Kenpachi wanted to bellow at him but he kept it to himself as he watched Byakuya's billowing white haori disappear in the mist of rain. He heard a disgruntled demand from behind, the familiar voice of a child taking on an adult with the latter being the one prone to apologizing. In his peripheral vision he spotted tips of spiky white hair, but he ignored their owner.

"Zaraki-taichou," said Hitsugaya, giving a respectful nod which Kenpachi replied to with an absent grunt, before setting off under an orange umbrella with Matsumoto.

Kenpachi was alone now, taking shelter under the roof of the meeting hall well out of the way of getting plummeted by rain. Throughout the meeting, Kenpachi hadn't heard a single word that was uttered by the old man nor those of his fellow captains. He spent the time gazing out the window behind Yamamoto's head, giving the impression that he was paying attention when it was the absolute contrary. When the first drizzles started, his main priority immediately changed. Fuck the old man and his god damn gathering.

Another growl escaped his throat, this one louder since there was no one there to hear him. It reverberated in his own ears, only to be swallowed up by the heavy pattering of rain like as if it was just an illusion. Fuck it. Furious, Kenpachi stormed out into the heavy downpour, his clothes and hair getting drenched instantaneously following the absence of a shade. He was angry. Pissed. His blood boiled, threatening to burst through the walls of his vessels any time soon. He nearly put a blade through Kuchiki's heart. He had been on the verge of shooting out curses at Hitsugaya and his lieutenant just because the boy dared to even look at him during this particular moment. A moment when it was raining and Kenpachi had been reluctant to step out of the shade when others dared to.

He hated the rain. If it was a person, or a Hollow or even just an ordinary living thing, he'd kill it in less than a heartbeat and watch its blood ooze out on the ground with an icy feeling in his chest. There would be no grin when he pierced its body. There would be no excited laughter when the thing called rain was far more powerful than expected. And there would be no mercy when rain was too weak to fight back. The thrill of the fight would be replaced with a bitter resentment and the ultimate need to get it over and done with. Zaraki Kenpachi hated the rain, and then there he was walking under it, step by step, oblivious to the cold biting into his bones.

The coming of rain was an omen, a sign of warning. Rain brought misery, misfortune, death. Those droplets were tears of the living on Earth as they cried for their dead family, friends, cherished ones while the souls climbed their way up to Soul Society...or suffered banishment to the fiery depths of Hell. They shouldn't cry for the dead. Kenpachi didn't believe in that concept. Why cry when you're going to die yourself and meet up with them later on? Better to just forget about it and move on with life. Time shouldn't be wasted on crying over dead bodies whose souls wouldn't come back no matter what you do.

What made Kenpachi angry was the fact that he couldn't stick to the idea of forgetting the dead because he himself...remembered. He remembered her so well like it was only yesterday that she left him with a promise of returning today. In his mind's eye he saw her in an old, dirty kimono with frayed hems, its stains so old and too many to scrub out that finally they became a part of the ragged design. She was all skin and bones, just like him and the rest of the district's residents, but her bright brown eyes told him that she was okay, that she was happy. Happy just to be able to lead a life with him.

Nobody ever had enough food in the 80th district. They were no more than scavengers. Those with farms and orchards had a slightly better life but constantly suffered from bandits and thieves. They only had enough crops for their own families but occasionally there would be some extras that they'd sell at a high price. Kenpachi didn't let her become a scavenger. He worked for what little they could get. But often there was not much choice and he was forced to watch as she dug into their meal of decaying flesh. Sometimes he wondered why she even wanted that life. Girls who were pretty enough sought better lives in other districts, most of them becoming prostitutes. He thought she was beautiful and could qualify as a high-class performer. She had a future ahead of her if only she could use her beauty to her advantage. When Kenpachi realized that he was the one who had been holding her back, he decided that it was time to he let her go...no matter how painful it was for him. Let her start a new life – a better one without violence, bloodshed and hunger. She simply laughed his suggestion off, calling him a fool. He never admired her as much as he did at that moment.

It was raining heavily the day she died. The both of them were at one of the farms stuck in a negotiation over the price of a small pile of vegetables enough to only feed them for two days when those fucked up bandits struck. Through the downpour he saw the arrow run its length through her chest, followed by two more in her abdomen and her throat, all three of them piercing through flesh and coming out the other side showing sharp tips dripping blood. He held her close, trying to shush her, to stop the bleeding...but the stubborn idiot kept moving her lips in a last effort to whisper a few words to him through the gurgling blood before the strength finally left her completely.

That was when he snapped. The sense of humanity left him. Blood lust overruled sanity. In a blind rage, he slaughtered every single living individual in that farm. That was the moment when he first realized the amount of reiatsu contained within his very being. It blasted out with electrifying intensity, disintegrating anything and everything that it came in contact with. In mere seconds, the bandits were dead and so were the farmers. He didn't know whether it was he or the bandits who had killed them...but it didn't matter. Refusing to accept her death, he wrapped her up in a tattered quilt and sat by her side, waiting for her to wake up. For three days. Three fuckin' days waiting for someone who was already dead to wake up.

Kenpachi felt an ache in his chest. An ache that punctured a hole in him every god damn time it rained. When that hole healed, rain would pour down like an angry bitch of a tempest, determined to rip open a new wound, if not in his heart then in his very soul. He realized he had stopped walking, and his hands were balled into fists so tight that his fingernails cut deep into his palms. Numb to the pain, he continued to stare at the ground, mind blank.

Rain...omen...death...

"Yachiru," he breathed, barely hearing himself. Death was all over the place but the last time the one person who mattered to him died, it rained. Now... "Fuck, Yachiru-" If something happened to that little godforsaken runt-

"Ken-chan!"

Kenpachi stopped short, frozen in place as he found a pink-haired bob bouncing around in the mist. Squinting through the rain, he made out a small figure running towards him with arms waving frantically in the air. He didn't move a muscle until Yachiru was before him, staring up at him with big, bright eyes and prodding his belly button through the bandages with a finger.

"Why didn't you wait for me at the hall, Ken-chan? I was just going over to get you. But guess what? It's raining and I kinda lost the umbrella. But it's no big deal, right? I love it when it rains!" Yachiru threw her hands up in the air and twirled around, giggling all the way. Her soft hair would have twirled around with her, but in its current state the pink strands were matted to her face – not like that mattered to Kenpachi much.

The man watched as Yachiru skipped around and around him, flapping her hands in the air in some sort of ridiculous dance. The Yachiru dance. Her namesake used to dance in the rain, her steps springing with natural grace, her jolly laughter cutting through the pattering rain and filling his heart with warmth. He remembered sitting under the shade, observing her mirth until she became insistent that he join her. He never could resist. Those were the times when he used to love rain.

"Ken-chan," Yachiru tugged on his haori, clearly annoyed at his silence, "you're ignoring me!"

Come out and play, you big oaf. You're such a bore! Kenpachi heard her voice as clear as day and when he finally looked down at Yachiru, the face of the child's namesake flashed before his eyes. Just a fleeting vision of her smile, brave and encouraging, but that was enough to rid him of the anger and guilt that had welled up inside of him.

"Che," he scoffed, breaking out into a grin. "What took ye so long, brat?"

"I lost the umbrella," she replied matter-of-factly, mirroring his smile. Or rather, mirroring her namesake's smile. The both of them smiled a lot, always with a face filled with happiness and, if it was even possible, their eyes lit up like a bulb, big and bright, whenever Kenpachi strode into view.

He grunted, stripping out of his haori. "Hop on." He waited until Yachiru was comfortable, breathing out a silent sigh of relief as he felt the all too familiar weight on his back, and draped the haori over their heads. They needed to get out of the rain or else Yachiru would catch a cold. The brat's resistance was still that of a child anyway. And Kenpachi'd be damned if he had to run back and forth to the 4th Division for medicine. With that thought in mind, he set off at a dash, grinning as Yachiru squealed cheers into his ear.

Kenpachi hated the rain because it brought sickness and untimely death. But he learned to love rain once again as he remembered the days spent with the first Yachiru, dancing around like hunger-ridden retards under the downpour. The coming of rain could be a warning of some sort...but it could also be a blessing. Whenever Kenpachi recalled death when it rained, the little brat, somehow sensing his depression, would come over, tilt her head to one side and smile at him – the same smile which she sent his way when they first met, reflecting the one which the first Yachiru gave him as she choked on her own blood. The smile of encouragement. Of hope.

Who knew a man like him needed reassurance?

Yachiru the first and Yachiru the second both gave without questioning. That was a blessing of the rain Kenpachi would always cherish.

R&R!

~ St. Harridan