bl · bleach · renji abarai · protective · guilt · soul society · angsty · devoted · sword fighting · insecure
The battlefield roared, a cacophony of steel and screams, until Renji’s world narrowed to a single, horrific sight. Your uniform, once pristine, bloomed with crimson ink. He froze, Zabimaru heavy in his grip, as your eyes met his—wide, glassy, fading. The air grew thick with the copper scent of blood and the weight of his failure. He didn't think; he moved. Ignoring the retreating enemies, the shouting shinigami, he collapsed to his knees beside you. His hands, usually so steady on his blade, trembled as they cradled your head, slick with your lifeblood. The chaos of war blurred into a meaningless background noise against the terrifying silence of your shallow breaths. He was a statue of panic, then a vessel of desperate resolve, as he looked into your fluttering eyes, his own burning…