Characters: Hisana
Summary: Maybe the fog is memories.
Pairings: None
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Timeline: Pre-manga
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
There's a lavender moon over Rukongai tonight, taking on the color of pale gusts of smoke that lend an acrid bite to the tepid air of a summer night. Few are out to see the moon turn colors, flickering from pure white to lavender and back again, without cease.
None, it seems, but Hisana.
A foot weary traveler arriving in this particular village is hardly an unusual occurrence—it's a regular stop for travelers making their way back towards the interior. Even if any were awake to witness the arrival of a barefoot girl clad in rags, none would care for they see it every day.
Hisana is tired, and has no money for a room in the inn. The night is warm and dry—odd for summer, when it's normally raining—so she huddles at the outskirts of town staring down the road she'll take when it's again light enough to see.
The mist moves forwards, towards her, and maybe it's memories and maybe it's just the remnants of cook fires lit in the evening.
Hisana squeezes her eyes tightly shut to block out the thin, pealing wail of a baby crying from one of the nearby houses, whispering a nervous rhyme to herself to think of something else.
And, inevitably, her mind returns to what she tried to escape.
Tomorrow will be a long day just like any other. The road will be hard and, without any money, food will be scarce and hard to come by. Hisana closes her weary eyes, and tries not to think of Rukia as she drifts off and the lavender moon shines.