UNTIL KINGDOM COME [FEAT. REISHA]

Reisha had always felt the comforting feeling of being watched over. Ever since she and Ashton parted ways, she had the lingering suspicion that he was never too far from her. It was a feeling of slight bliss, one that always seemed to keep the madness at bay. Because when you hovered over the sick and processed the dead like clockwork, it was maddening.

That warming feeling that kept her inner self held together was gone. She awoke to the sound of chilling wind and a piece of fabric flapping, clinging to her. As she sat up, her body was heavy and resistant. It didn't want to experience the grief she was about to be impaled with. Her eyes slowly traveled down to her lap where the gathered black fabric lay. As if in disbelief, she quickly glanced around her. There was nothing and no one. Suddenly, the sound of blood rushing in her ears was deafening, and she could no longer hear the lapping waves of the shore below. Finally, her eyes came back to staring at the torn shihakusho.

The feeling of everyone you cared about leaving was a crushing one.

Her heart stammered, and her bottom lip trembled. She didn't often cry. In fact, she was renowned for not allowing her emotions to get the best of her. In high-risk and tension-filled situations in the Yonbantai, one could not afford to let tears or anger overcome sensibility. But in this moment, she couldn't help it. Silent tears tread down her cheeks, and she closed her eyes as she held his clothing close to her chest like it was armor. Like it would somehow mend the newly reopened hole in her heart.

She lowered her head and pulled her knees up, her face now resting in the cloth that soaked up her tears. A sense of utter loneliness wound around her, choking her in a vice-like grip. Who did she have now? She was hurt without her Captain, and now she was lost without her soul mate. Or did he not consider them to be so close?

Eyebrows furrowing in newly found anger, Reisha cursed into the clothing. "Damn it," she whispered, and it was the first time her mouth had ever uttered a profanity. Forsaken and probably forgotten, she stayed like this for a long time. Long enough for her joints to ache and groan in protest at their tightly curled angles. After a while, she relaxed herself and stretched out her legs, arms lifelessly resting on top of the shihakusho on her lap. Her eyes were dead and lacking of their normal hopeful shine. She stared to the side, anger and sorrow battling inside to see which would become more prominent.

She knew he was gone. She knew he wasn't even in the Soul Society anymore. She didn't know what took him away, but... She trusted his words from last night. She believed he cared about her. So whatever it was -- it was important. And rather than sulk and cry all century, she would do something about it. Because she didn't want to ascertain the title of a damsel in distress by any means, and therefore she would be the one to save her love.

Wiping her tear-stained cheeks with his torn cloth, she stood weakly to her feet. She had to fight the urge to stay there any longer, as if doing so would mean he would return to that very spot. A slow exhale left her lips, and she began walking. People were going to brand him a traitor, even more so than her own Captain. Tucking his cloth inside her own shihakusho, she prepared for the worst to come.