Title: White Fury
Characters: H!Ichigo, Rukia, Ichigo, hints of IchiRuki
Word Count: 557
Summary: H!Ichigo's control slips as he talks to Rukia, and it infuriates him.
Comments: Written immediately after completing this post at Brawl, though really the idea is kind of generic. FOR snuzzie, MY ICHIRUKI FANGIRL'S TWIN. *________*
It was the anger that had called to him, the same anger that he thrived on, twisted, turned into a madness that bordered insanity. It was still there, that fury that blotted out his vision, turned his eyes black and kept his breath heavy in his throat, but it was no longer being returned. He’d been cut off, his fuel gone, and though his own rage continued to grow stifling in his chest, the human’s had finally burned out.
No, it had been snuffed. By her. The shinigami.
He was looking at her now, and he couldn’t sense even a sliver of fear. Not an ounce of revulsion, not even a goddam hint of uncertainty. It was pissing him off, and he couldn’t do a fucking thing about it. Zangetsu was on his back, the sword’s familiar weight pressing warmly against his back, and he couldn’t. Fucking. Touch her.
He thought he’d known madness. He thought he’d mastered it. But this rage he felt now, this utter helplessness he felt while he was in control, this was a new kind of anguish, one he found himself abhorring with every negative fiber of his being.
She was right there. Right fucking there, and the one thing that would drive away this anger would simultaneously usurp him from his throne. He knew it. He fucking knew it, and it only made his anger grow hotter.
"Give him back." The shinigami was weak, freshly healed and still covered in bandages. It would be so easy, he thought wildly. Her blood would flow fresh and hot down his blade, over his hands, into his soft white robes. So easy to knock her to the ground, to break her precious zanpakutou in two, toss it aside, slice at her skin--
Dammit. Dammit. She was the reason he was out, and fuck it all, she was the only damn reason the human would force him back in. To touch her would be suicide. To not was a torture unlike any he’d ever imagined.
"He’s not coming," he lied through gritted teeth, and internally he winced. The human was back, clawing at his brain like a cornered animal, the sound of her voice as she spoke alighting his resistance anew like some wildfire. He’d called upon his inner darkness to avenge the shinigami, and he’d be damned if he’d let her fall prey to it.
Well, if he was going to come out anyway...
The shinigami saw his smirk and returned it, speaking before he had gained enough control of his mouth to force it open. "I know he’s coming," she said smoothly. "I can see the fear in your face."
His composure slipped and he glared. Dammit, this was not fair, not when he’d been so close! He’d been called, for God’s sake! Summoned! Why now did the human have the strength to reign him back?
"I am not a horse," he growled, and Zangetsu felt suddenly cold on his back. Fucking human didn’t even known his own damned sword, and he had the control? This was ridiculous!
Opposite the room, Rukia grinned and made a face, and it was all he could do to glower back at her as his vision slipped away from him, his fingers lost their flexibility, his zanpakutou lost its radiance. She pulled an eyelid down triumphantly.