Disclaimer: Bleach will forever belong to Tite Kubo
Title: The Significance of Weights
A Sequel to 'The Substantiality of Weights'
Dusk is approaching and the little raven-haired shinigami glanced worriedly at the sky. She hopes that today, all is well at the mansion and no 'tantrum' reports would greet her arrival.
Damn these Kuchikis and their temperaments.
Squinting at the setting sun, she now fueled all of her reiatsu to her shunpo.
Almost there.
*********
While walking down the path to the mansion, the little shinigami scanned the estate, looking for signs of upheaval or disorder.
The bushes looked the same as yesterday….check.
Ponds still intact…check.
Swans on the other pond, yes, two pairs still…check.
Same numbers of topiaries…check.
Pathways still whole…check.
Same numbers of stepping stones...check.
Heaving a sigh, her shoulders relaxed a little.
Oh, right…count the koi.
As she approached the pond, she gave a startled gasp as a pair of slate gray eyes suddenly impedes her vision, nearly bumping into them.
She took a step back to have a better view - all the facets seemed wrongly arranged – the grinning mouth is right above the nose where the forehead should be; the mischievous eyes below. Even the long tresses of midnight black hair are standing where the neck ought to be.
The 29th Heir to the Kuchiki Clan is dangling upside-down by the goddam tree, the bended branch precariously thin for support.
"You better come down here or your father will hang you by your hair."
A giggle. A swooshing sound and a small thump on the ground. A scamper of little feet towards her and then little arms wrapped themselves securely around her legs.
"Come on, you watermelon. Time to clean you up," she cooed while bending down. She staggered a little as she carried her son back to the mansion. He sure did gained a lot of weight, just as Unohana-taichou observed.
"Chappy!" he shouted, nearly making her eardrums burst.
"Well, I'll think about it," she smiled. "However, I might be the one hanging by my hair should your father ever comes home and catches you holding one," she now added warily, recalling once how her husband became perfectly still and frowned at the sight of the rabbit plushie in the toddler's hands.
*********
That night the little raven-haired shinigami woke to find the other side of the futon empty. She scanned the room, looking for telltale signs and soon enough, something shiny caught her eyes.
It was the kenseikans.
He did not even place them in the small wooden chest that served as its compartment. It was like, they were merely tossed there.
Still bleary-eyed, the little shinigami groped for a thicker yukata and began to walk down the hall, searching for his reiatsu to save time and go back to precious sleep.
Smirking a little, she slid the shōji open to see the two figures sleeping, snuggled in the futon; a captain's haori on top for extra warmth.
The moon shone directly on the number "six" that is now slightly indiscernible because of the shapes underneath it.
Silently approaching the two, a pair of slate gray eyes opened.
Ah, the original edition awakens, she noted with amusement.
He simply nodded; his movements painstakingly slow and careful as he stood up. In the moonlight, he seemed to be holding an object - white, soft and endearingly fluffy. He then lifted his son's arm to place the object underneath; his expression held nothing but tenderness, as they roamed on the features of the slumbering child before him.
While on his side, the little raven-haired shinigami had to blink twice - disbelief slowly etching itself on her features, a dawning realization.
Her husband – the stoic and venerable 28th Kuchiki Head, slept with the very same rabbit plushie from before. She thought the poor thing met its demise with Senbonzakura.
"Not a word, Rukia," he warned, his eyes cold and emotionless once more.
"I didn't see anything," she whispered; smiling languorously as she tiptoed, then snaking her arms around his neck, while planting a soft kiss on his mouth.