Bleach: Kishou Arima

Alternate title : A Moment Eternal

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The soft hum of spiritual energy filled the air, weaving delicate threads of light between Yachiru's fingertips as she carefully molded the forming Kido.

A faint golden glow pulsed in her hands, shifting and twisting as she worked to refine its structure.

Her brow furrowed in deep concentration, the dim candlelight flickering beside her, casting shadows along the scrolls and parchment scattered across the wooden floor of her study.

For months, she had been developing a new form of healing Kido—something more conceptual.

She bit her lip in frustration as the glow wavered, a small crack forming in the energy structure before it dissipated entirely with a soft pop.

"Tch..." she muttered under her breath, rubbing her temples.

"Perhaps you need a break."

A deep, familiar voice broke the silence, cutting through her focus like a blade.

Yachiru didn't even need to turn around.

"Not now, Arima."

She reached for another scroll, determined to continue.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind.

"Now is the perfect time."

She stiffened slightly as his presence engulfed her, warmth radiating from his body as he leaned closer.

His lips brushed against the side of her neck, a slow and deliberate movement, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

"Arima," she sighed, trying to keep her voice steady, "I'm in the middle of something important."

"And I'm taking you somewhere important," he countered, his tone as calm as ever.

She exhaled through her nose. "It can wait."

His response was pressing a soft kiss against the nape of her neck.

Yachiru's breath hitched. "Arima, I swear—"

Another kiss.

Her heartbeat stuttered.

She turned her head to glare at him, only for his lips to capture hers in a slow, lingering kiss that stole whatever protest she was about to make.

Her hands clenched into fists, torn between shoving him away and melting into the warmth of his embrace.

"Mmm—Arima!" she tried to protest between kisses, her face turning red as she attempted to push him away, but he was relentless.

Every time she tried to speak, he silenced her with another kiss, his hands cupping her face with a warmth that sent shivers down her spine.

"Arima, I was working on a new healing Kido! At least let me finish—"

Another kiss.

"You brute! I—"

Yet another kiss.

She was getting nowhere with him.

"Just trust me," he murmured against her ear.

"You're impossible," she muttered.

"And you're adorable when you're flustered," he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Before she could retort, his hands moved, covering her eyes in one smooth motion.

"Arima, what—?"

And in the next moment, the world shifted.

---

The crisp scent of pine and damp earth was the first thing Yachiru noticed as the air around them changed.

When Arima removed his hands from her eyes, she blinked in surprise, adjusting to the sudden shift in scenery.

They were no longer in her study, nor anywhere near the Seireitei.

Towering spruce and pine trees surrounded them, their ancient branches swaying gently in the cold breeze.

The golden light of the sun filtered through the foliage, casting long, dappled shadows across the forest floor.

The stillness was profound.

There was no trace of modern human civilization.

Just nature—vast, untouched, and eternal.

"Where are we?" she asked, turning to look at him.

Arima simply smiled—a rare, genuine smile that softened his usually impassive features.

"Follow me," he said, offering his hand.

Yachiru hesitated, her mind still caught between confusion and curiosity.

But eventually, she took his hand, allowing him to lead her down a worn dirt path.

The farther they walked, the more something began to stir within her.

A strange familiarity.

The way the trees stood, the way the ground sloped, the faint scent of aged wood carried by the wind...

Her pulse quickened.

And then, they stepped into a clearing.

A small wooden house stood before them, its aged beams standing resilient against time itself.

Yachiru stopped in her tracks.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the house, her fingers trembling slightly as they reached out to touch the weathered wood.

The texture was rough, familiar beneath her fingertips, every groove and knot in the wood carrying a memory long buried beneath the weight of centuries.

Her heart pounded violently against her ribs.

"Is this...?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her from behind, holding her gently yet firmly.

Arima's voice was quiet, his breath warm against her ear.

"The place where you finally asked me to marry you?"

She closed her eyes, the memory crashing into her like a tidal wave.

Yes.

This was the place.

Nine hundred years ago.

She had come here alone, defying both reason and fear, dropping to her knees after years of him not going through with it, And she asked him to marry her.

Yachiru's throat tightened.

"But why bring me here now?" she asked, her voice barely steady.

She turned to face him, but he was already moving.

Before she could react, he took her hand and spun her around, the motion effortless, like they were dancing.

His golden eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

Then, softly, he spoke.

"Dear Yachiru," he murmured, "I have lived for three thousand one hundred and twenty-one years."

Her breath hitched.

"In that time, I have lost many things—my father, my mother. I have lived as a corpse in all but name, a man without conviction, without purpose.

"Many have come into my life, seeking something—my power, my loyalty, my presence. But none of them ever left an imprint on the rotting sheet of canvas known as Arima where the only colour was that of blood from those i killed."

"None of them ever changed me."

"But you did."

Yachiru's fingers curled against his robes, her vision blurring with tears from the emotions bubbling in her.

"I gave you eighty-four years to leave," Arima continued. "I thought that once you understood the kind of man I was, you would walk away. That you would save yourself....."

"But you never did...."

"And on the eighty-fourth year, exactly nine hundred years ago on this very day, while I was buried in that meaningless war, you came to me. You knelt before me and asked me to marry you."

A tear slipped down Yachiru's cheek.

"It was overwhelming. A choice I had never been given."

"Because who could possibly love me...?"

His voice wavered slightly at that last sentence.

"But you did," he whispered. "And in time, this heartless man learned something he never thought he would."

"He learned how to love."

Yachiru let out a choked sob as Arima slowly sank to one knee before her, mirroring the moment from so long ago.

She covered her mouth with both hands, her entire body trembling.

Arima reached into his pocket, pulling out a small box.

He flicked it open, revealing a simple yet beautiful ring.

"I'm grateful for the centuries we've shared," he said, his voice soft, vulnerable. "These have been the best years of my life, the only years I'm greatful of for being alive to live through."

"I know I have caused you pain. That I have burdened you with the weight of my existence. That I have made you fear losing me more times than I can count."

"But today, I ask you—"

His eyes burned into hers.

"Yachiru," he whispered,

"Will you spend the rest of my life holding each other like true lovers?"

A sob escaped her lips as she fell to her knees, throwing her arms around him, holding him as tightly as she could.

"You idiot," she gasped through her tears. "You absolute idiot..."

"Of course, I will."

And in that moment, nothing else existed in their eyes.

Just them.

A man and a woman.

An Unbreakable Bond

Yachiru trembled as she gazed at Arima, the warmth of his hands still lingering on hers.

The overwhelming flood of emotions threatened to consume her, and before she could stop herself, she leaned forward, pressing her lips against his.

The kiss was deep, desperate, filled with every unspoken word she could not form.

Tears flowed freely from her eyes, trailing down her cheeks as she clung to him, her hands grasping at his robes as if afraid he would disappear.

Arima didn't pull away.

He let her pour everything into that moment—her love, her gratitude, the weight of nine centuries of devotion.

By the time they finally parted, Yachiru was breathless, her lips tingling, her vision still hazy with tears.

Arima exhaled slowly, his golden eyes unreadable as he took the ring from its box.

Carefully, he slid it onto her finger, placing it gently beside the one she had worn for centuries—the symbol of their eternal bond now reinforced with yet another vow.

For a long moment, they simply sat there, foreheads resting against each other.

Their breaths mingled, the air between them charged yet peaceful, as they both calmed from the storm of emotions that had overtaken them.

The forest around them stood in silent witness to their love.

Yachiru let out a small, dramatic pout.

"Meany," she muttered, her voice slightly hoarse from the tears. "That was such a roller coaster of emotions. Do you have any idea how bad that is for my heart?"

Arima chuckled, the sound low and rich. "But you liked it, didn't you?"

Yachiru's entire face turned red.

She bit her lip, suddenly flustered, her fingers fidgeting slightly against his chest.

With a shy nod, she admitted it.

Steam practically rose from her skin from how hard she was blushing, her usual composed self nowhere to be found. In that moment, she was no longer the confident, experienced wife who had stood by his side for centuries.

She was just her.

The same woman who had once nervously asked him to marry her all those years ago.

Arima, of course, noticed.

And he smirked.

That was his mistake.

Yachiru's embarrassment quickly morphed into indignation as she smacked his chest—lightly, but with mock irritation.

"You're cruel!" she huffed, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "How dare you do something so sudden?! And at this time, of all times?!"

Arima raised an amused eyebrow. "This time?"

Yachiru clenched her fists, her entire face practically glowing with heat.

"I'm so incredibly turned on right now!" she snapped, glaring at him. "But I can't even do anything because I'm six months pregnant!"

Silence.

Then—

Arima chuckled.

Not just any chuckle.

A deep, knowing, entirely too amused chuckle.

Yachiru narrowed her eyes. "What is so funny?"

Arima leaned in, his voice dropping to a tantalizing whisper as he brushed his lips against the shell of her ear.

"Well," he murmured, "the only thing stopping that is your own limits. There are ways around that, you know..."

Yachiru's entire body went stiff.

A sharp inhale.

A violent blush that spread all the way down to her neck.

Her mind short-circuited.

And for once—just once—she had no comeback.

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I deserve a stone for this no ?

Stones and Reviews please