Nightwalking
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(AN) This came to me the other night as I was trying to fall asleep. I think it must have been inspired by the latest Bleach chapters and the return of our favorite captain. I know it may not appeal to many readers because of the lack of sex, drugs, and rock and roll, but I really wanted to convey a sense of beauty and loneliness, which is what attracts me to these characters.
Disclaimer - I don't own these characters nor do I make any profit from them. (/AN)
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She awoke with a start and stared at the dim ceiling of her bedroom. She still found it strange to be back in this house even though it had been her home for nearly fifty years. Holding her breath, she strained her ears for any hint of what had stolen her from her sleep.
Outside her window, the crickets chirped in chaotic rhythms, and the hooting of a solitary owl echoed through the night. Nothing out of the ordinary could be heard.
She sat up in her futon and let the silk sheet and blanket fall to her lap. She stared hard at the sliding shoji door leading to the hallway and tried to recall the exact sound that had woken her up. Her heart began beating faster as she became more and more certain that it had been the door that she had heard.
Her senses slowly started to shake away the fuzziness of sleep, and her racing pulse fluttered when she realized she could sense him. Wisps of his reiatsu lingered like morning mist over a lake, and she could smell the rich earthiness of white sandalwood.
She was still fixated on the thin rice paper squares of the door when another sound broke the silence of the house. One of the doors further down the hallway slid open before shutting again with a soft click. Shortly after, the sound of gravel crunching lightly drifted in through her window.
A part of her memory said that she often heard these sounds at night, but had never before fully awakened to investigate. She had always brushed it off as one of the servants moving through the house and gone back to sleep.
Barely daring to breathe, she shifted the exquisite blankets aside and stood up from her futon. Her bare feet were silent as she slowly padded across the tatami mats to the shoji door leading outside.
As the footsteps faded away into the distance, she reached out her hand and began carefully sliding the chestnut-framed door open. The cool night air slid through the crack and washed the warmth of sleep from her skin, but she paid the chill no notice as she concentrated on preventing the door from making a sound.
She only needed a small opening to slip through, but by the time she stepped out onto the small porch, the figure she had heard leaving the house was already past the stream.
Her bedroom was on the west side of the sprawling estate, and the small stream and water garden there soon gave way to a narrow path sloping down to a sapphire blue lake. Autumn was already here, and this was probably one of the last times the night lilies would be in bloom. Even if the full moon hadn't been shining silver on the audacious red and magenta flowers, their fragrant perfume gave away their presence just as definitively.
She spotted him winding his way towards the lake and nearly mistook him for one of the servants. Since arriving at the Academy, she had rarely seen him in anything other than a shinigami shihakushou, let alone without a captain's haori.
Tonight, however, he was wearing a midnight blue kimono over a dark gray juban. His obi was also dark gray, and he wore plain wooden geta. His hair was loose without the kenseikan, and the occasional sigh of wind tousled it around his shoulders. She also found it strange that he did not have his zanpaktou with him.
He wound his way slowly towards the star-flecked water, and for a time she lost sight of his dark figure in the shadows of the maple trees. Their deep crimson leaves were just beginning to brighten to scarlet with the onset of autumn.
He reappeared at the edge of the lake and was silhouetted by the moonlight shimmering off the wind-rippled water. As testament to the early hour, the moon was already halfway to the horizon and left a silver trail along the water's surface.
She sat down on her heels and hugged her knees to her chest. Peering through the slats in the porch's railing, she continued to watch his progress towards the sandy shore. It looked as though he intended to walk out onto the lake and follow the glittering path to the end of the world, but instead he stepped to one side and sat down in the grass.
She felt a stab of guilty pleasure for invading on such a private moment as he stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back on his elbows. Never before had she seen him with such relaxed posture. Never before had he seemed so… human.
Perhaps this was what he had been like with her sister. She ran her fingers along the long, satin nightgown she wore and wondered if it had belonged to that woman. It was not the first time she wondered if her belongings were all second hand, but only recently did she begin to view them not as a dead stranger's possessions but as her older sister's. Suddenly, everything had taken on new meaning.
The circumstances around her adoption had always struck her as odd, but she was never in a position to ask questions. However, she had never stopped wondering why he had chosen to bring her into his noble family and then acted as though she barely existed.
When Aizen-taichou had instructed Gin-taichou to kill her, all she had felt was foolishness that she had allowed herself to hope that she could escape her execution. When he had saved her from Gin-taichou's zanpaktou, it was the first time that he had ever touched her, let alone embraced her.
She could still see the blood, sticky and death red, covering his pure white haori and streaming down his face. She had never been so close to his violet gaze nor felt the strength in his arms. Even when he fell to his knees, she could feel the hard muscles of his tattered body as she tried to support him.
In the distance, the lone figure sat up to drape one arm over his bent knee. His other hand danced lightly over the grass and tickled the tips with his palm. How long did he plan to stay there? Did he often go out at night?
Resting her chin on her knees, she tried to imagine what her sister had been like. No one in the household had ever been willing to tell her about Hisana-sama. What kind of woman could have fallen in love with such a man? What kind of woman would have made him fall in love?
Not for the first time, Rukia wracked her brain for even the slightest memory of her sister. As always, however, it was futile. She had been only a babe when she was killed in the human world, and her first memories were of the Rukongai streets.
In her mind, she could see the snow-covered alleys of the 78th District. A small, black-haired child was rummaging through a pile of trash that had spilled out of one of the dented dumpsters.
She moved to see what the child was looking for, and suddenly she was seeing from the child's eyes. Looking down at the garbage, her hands were white and frostbitten and streaked with grease and grime. She looked behind her and expected to see a woman watching her, but only the brick wall presented any color other than dirty white.
Turning back to the trash pile, the walls of the alley suddenly disappeared and she was kneeling behind a tree in a thick forest. Her hands tightened around the mushrooms she had been gathering. The air was thick with mosquitoes and gnats, but she made no move to wave them away because the men on the trail might spot her and take them away.
Shoving the speckled mushrooms into her mouth, she tiptoed around the merchant's cart and spied a box of spoiled fruit near the back of his stand. Flies buzzed noisily around the mold-encrusted oranges, but her mouth watered all the same.
With one last glance towards the stocky man who was handing his customer some change, she darted into the stand and made a haphazard grab at the rotten goods. She didn't even glance down to see what she had managed to steal before turning on her heel and sprinting back out into the crowd.
Behind her, she heard the man shout in outrage, and she hugged the stinking fruit close to her chest as she put her head down and ran. She could sense the man gaining on her, and she realized there was no way such a small child could outrun an adult. A terrified sob escaped her throat as his hand reached through the throng of people to grab her by her scrawny neck.
Something banged into her from the front, and her cry of surprise was muffled by thick folds of warm cloth. Two arms descended around her shoulders, but instead of shaking her in punishment, they gently steadied her on her feet.
Still clutching her orange desperately, she looked up through disheveled bangs at the person who had stood in her way. The dark-haired lady knelt down to her eye level, and silky soft fingertips brushed the grungy hair from her eyes and lightly patted her cheek.
She felt arms wrap around her again, and she tensed for an assault. She was ready to kick and fight if this person wanted her orange! Instead, the lady just embraced her, and the two figures were motionless in the middle of the empty Rukongai street.
Her eyelids became heavy as she breathed the sweet lily scent of the lady. When the lady picked her up and began carrying her down the street, she knew she didn't have to worry. She was safe here.
Snuggling against the warm body carrying her, she allowed herself to fall into a deep, sound sleep. It felt like she was wrapped in a cocoon of silk and sandalwood. The last thing she remembered was a feather-light caress across her forehead.
She awoke with a start and stared at the dim ceiling of her bedroom. She sat up on her futon and glanced at the closed door leading to the porch. The first rays of morning were beginning to shine through the thin paper panels. Her memories and dreams entwined into a tangle of images and sounds. Had someone moved her back to her futon, or had she never left?
Disappointed with herself for falling asleep, she vowed that next time, she would follow him down to the water and finally have the courage to ask everything she had always wanted to ask. After all these years, she was finally able to see behind his cold demeanor and dispassionate façade. He had revealed his true face to her.
Standing up with a loud yawn and joint-cracking stretch, she froze halfway to her carved-oak wardrobe. A small porcelain vase of azure blue bellflowers sat on her low table. Beside it was a smiling picture of her sister.