Author's Notes: Welcome to my first installment of where my Bleach one-shots will go! Sometimes I have short, one-chapter stories that can stand on their own and sometimes I don't. And those will go here! They will mostly be IchiRuki (as is my way) but I may surprise people and throw in some other characters from time to time. We shall see. Mostly I had this inspiration that I just had to get rid of or go crazy. I do apologize that this first one is sad... If I did a decent job of writing it, I must warn you to get some tissues. And if I get enough responses to this, I may do a sequel to this specific one-shot.

Also, unless specifically noted there is no specific timeline for the one-shots. It's up to your imagination. I most likely won't be doing much, if any, AU stuff and it'll just be snippets pulled from canon or 'alternate endings' of such. Anyway, don't think to hard on it. I just hope you enjoy!

A Broken Goodbye

Everyone silently gathered around the dying hero, watching him struggle for breath even through unconsciousness. The grief and mourning was thick over the crowd, despite the victory against the universe's almost certain destruction. The young man, clad in torn and bloodied robes marking him as a shinigami, was fading fast. He had sacrificed everything to save his friends, the balance between the worlds, the entire universe's existence. He was a hero in triumph. But he was dying there on the ground. And there was nothing they could do. No amount of healing kido or rejection powers could undo the hole that was made in his soul.

Soundless tears spilled down cheeks, some eyes cast themselves away from the sight, and some bowed their heads in thanks, in apology, in reverence. There was the sound, somewhere in the background, of shifting rocks after the damaging battle. Fires were slowly flagging that damaging spells had caused. And even the early morning birds began to leave the safety of their nests. But still no one moved. No one made a sound. The young hero that no one had ever expected… was dying.

"Ichigo! Ichigo!" Breaking into the eerie stillness of the air, a young woman broke through the crowd. She pushed aside bodies in the way to find where her companion, her dear friend, lay on the hard ground. "No," she whispered, her dark eyes wide in disbelief and fear, unshed tears glistening on the surface.

"Rukia." A whisper. Before her childhood friend could take hold of her arm, she dashed forward, completely unconcerned about the audience, the rubble, or the pain in her own injuries. No one stopped her. No one had the heart.

The team of mortal friends hurried behind her and found themselves gripped in pained shock when they exited the crowd. There was a feminine choked gasp and a whispered 'Ichigo' from somewhere in the throng. But they didn't rush toward him, not yet.

"NO!" Dropping to her knees, her tired bones aching at the pressure against the hardened earth, she pulled the man's head gently into her lap. "Ichigo… No…" She whispered against his dirty orange hair. Holding his head in one arm in veneration, the other placed itself over the massive wound in his chest. Everything was taken from him. His chain of fate, soul sleep, even his heart… All pierced, all gone. It was a wonder his soul's body hadn't given away to mere reishi already. But then, he had always been strong.

'Sode no Shirayuki…' the young woman cried in her mind, pleading with the part of her soul she had once given to the very being dying in her arms.

'Hai, Rukia… Hai.' came the whispered response. Her zanpakuto was also grieving.

Her request was accepted. Her soul companion has never let her down yet. She weakly smiled through her tears and closed her eyes. 'Arigatou.'

Rukia's bent form became to sparkle, giving off an almost flirting glow. A soft luminescence overtook the reiastu surrounding her while her skin itself began to reflect light like tiny crystals. All eyes were glued on the pair of shinigami huddled on the ground and none of them quite understood. The silence now was full of wonder, sympathy, and even hope. The air around the entire crowd began to cool down and breeze gently, as if blowing from the young soul herself. Sand and small debris blew back away from the two as if creating a holy space.

In the moments just before the sun began to rise over the horizon, a soft white light covered the noble girl's back. Swirling pecks of reflective crystals began to swirl, slowly forming together, and creating a brilliant light before dawn in this place that was just recently filled with pain and violence. It was almost soothing, nurturing, calming. And then the miniscule crystals began to form into the shape of wings, flowing upward in a glorious arc before descending down to the ground. The span was much wider than the girl's arms and the tips of the white, lacey wings lay on the cracked earth beneath, the clash of the divine and dirty.

Amongst the onlookers, a man stepped forward, pushing away from the rest. His eyes were unusually wide and emotional. "Rukia… Don't…" He whispered, barely spoken at all. Though none around him could hear his words, they knew from his expression that he was afraid, that he somehow knew what was happening. But he moved no further to impede her. This was her will and it was an honorable one. There were no doubts in his eyes that she was the epitome of a dutiful shinigami, one that feared not death, entertained no consolation, and declined no challenge. She was the embodiment of nobility. A heart that gave with no expectation of return and wavered not from the righteous path. She was the quintessence of true affection and care for another, no matter the cost. And he was honored to call her his little sister.

As the wings completed their formation and the sun began to peak through the trees behind them, the illusion began to change again. Slowly, the wings lowered to the ground, the crystal-like feathers drug against the dirt as they wrapped protectively around the dying man. Bit by bit, particles of the sparkling crystals began to fall. The wings were slowly disintegrating, creating a mist over the body and setting light to the dark shadows of the destroyed black uniform. Some of the small specks of light whirled around the pair as others lost direction and flew into the crowd along the gentle breeze.

There was a soft whisper of awe as a young woman with long strawberry blonde hair touched one that floated to her. "Snow," she whispered lightly, just enough for everyone to hear. "It's snow." And Inoue felt her face relax for a moment under the intense grief she had been feeling. It somehow soothed some of the pain and she let it carry it away.

Little by little, the white, delicate wings withered down to small protrusions from Rukia's back. Flakes of crystalline snow still littered Ichigo's fading form and danced in the air about them. The young soul took a shaky breath, her energy leaving her quickly. But she was not done yet. She still had one more thing to do. Then softly leaning down toward her friend, her hero, she pressed her forehead to his. She could hear his labored breathing, a gurgling sound from his lungs filled his attempts at air, and his eyes were shut tight against the agony. She could smell his skin still though, even through the dirt and blood. And she could still feel the weight of his body in her lap.

Finally, she whispered softly so only he could hear. "Thank you. Thank you for everything." She let another tear roll down her cheek, unable to stop it as it crystallized against her skin into another flake of fluffy crystal. She pressed her cheek against his hair, her lips half-pressed to his forehead, and opened her mouth again to whisper as she felt herself draining.

Through the darkness and the anguish, Ichigo's mind began to rouse. He was aware that he was in a great deal of pain and only on the edge of consciousness. It was hard to breath and he couldn't move. And yet, something felt safe. He felt that he would be ok. There was a soft, white light ahead of him. It was bright and glittering and he yearned to reach for it for reasons he couldn't fathom. But he knew it was everything he could ever want and everything he'd ever need.

"Thank you."

What was that? He could make out a voice. Someone was grieving. It was emotional pain he was well acquainted with. But who was it? And why were they sad? He wanted to tell them not to be sad anymore but his voice would not come.

"Thank you for everything."

Rukia. That was Rukia. Was she thanking him? Why could he hear tears in her voice? That was the last person he ever wanted to see cry again. Her pain tore through him and he wanted to fight away her darkness and wrap her in light. He just wanted to see her smile.

"I hope we meet again."

'Where are you going?' he wanted to ask. He wasn't ready to say goodbye. The last time they parted, he felt a rip in his heart and he told himself that once he got her back that she'd never leave again. But it sounded like she was leaving again. He didn't want to wait until eternity started to be with her. He wanted to tell her all of this once the battle was over, once he won. She can't leave yet.

"This is goodbye."

'No,' he wanted to beg her to stay, but his voice still wasn't cooperating. 'Rukia.' He could vaguely make out her beautiful face above his and he found himself wondering if it was all a dream. She was glowing, a dark ethereal beauty surrounded by sparkling white light. She was his personal angel. He could even tell himself that he felt her gentle hands holding him, a tingling sensation wrapped around his body, and could almost see small wings on her back. If he was dreaming, it was the most glorious dream. He could stay in this realm between wakefulness and sleep, life and death, if she stayed here with him like this.

"Ichigo."

His name whispered from her lips against his face felt so warm. This couldn't be a dream. She was really here, holding him, and soothing his soul into waking up like only she could. It felt beautiful. She looked beautiful. He wanted to tell her all this and more. He wanted to open his parched lips and whisper promises and oaths to her. He wanted to make sure she understood that wherever she went, he would follow. They would never be separated again and he would care for her for the rest of their days. He wanted to explain that he had a heart again because of her and, now, it was all hers. He wanted to say those words, those little terrifying words, that his heart had longed to say for so long.

"I love you."

But she said them first. He wanted to smile, to laugh, to cry, to hold her, to kiss her. Most importantly, he wanted to whisper them back. He felt his eyes open wider, taking in the scene that he now knew was not a dream. No, it was more than reality. It was a nightmare, all over again. His worst one since his mother's death.

She was disappearing again. There was a sad smile on her face and the remnants of tears down her cheeks as their eyes connected in the mist of sparkling lights.

"Rukia," his horse voice weakly pleaded. He wanted to scream, to cry, to beg her to stay. She couldn't leave him yet, not after everything that's happened. They had so much more to say, to do together. Why was she leaving again? Why was she disappearing?

But then as she leaned down, her eyes closing to try and stop her crying, and the last of her crystalline wings fell apart and around his body, he knew. He was feeling stronger, more whole. But she was disappearing. She was dying to give him life. She was doing it all over again.

"Rukia. No," he felt his own tears forming on his face as her body slummed forward, feather-light as her soul started to disintegrate as well. His own felt stronger as he sat up to hold her tenderly, afraid of squeezing too hard and having her disappear faster. "Don't leave me."

Her deep indigo eyes opened and she merely smiled at him in a way that said she regretted nothing, except maybe having longer to spend with him. She raised a weak hand and held it against his face, her fingers were cool to the touch. He placed his own warmer one on top of hers to keep it there as her face neared his and their lips touched.

And it was beautiful. She was soft and almost shy and he wanted to drink her in. It was their first and would be their last. He felt a tear slide down his cheek that he was unable to hold back. Opening his eyes once more, he saw her face starting to fade. "Rukia, I love you too."

And then she was gone. All that was left of her was the snow of her soul covering his healing body and the whispers she left in his head. He lost her. The one thing he couldn't stand to lose. The hero saved the world but lost his love. And he felt broken all over again.

Uncaring and unconcerned of his audience, the hero broke down and cried.