Title: Calm Before the Storm
Rating: K+
Pairings/Characters: Ukitake Jūshirō, Kyōraku Shunsui, Shiba Kaien, Kuchiki Rukia
Word Count: 836
Warning/s: Spoilers for Episode 49 don't remember what chapter, kind of depressing since I'm just in that kind of mood today on April Fool's, of all days
Summary: Death leaves us with more than just tragedy.
Dedication: To anyone who has ever lost a friend or a loved one, whether they are gone or just too far away.
A/N: The title has nothing to do with the actual drabble or at least I don't think it does. I couldn't think of a title, and I thought about Emily Dickinson's works and how the title to most of her posthumously published poems derive from the first line, and . . . I'll stop rambling.
The wind rustled through the trees, no doubt the calm breeze before an impending storm.
Two figures leapt out of the foliage, running parallel to one another; one was Ukitake Jūshirō, the other, what remains of Shiba Kaien.
"What's wrong? Why don't you attack me? I know—you're trying to figure out a way to drag me out of this boy's body. It's useless!" teased the monster, tongue lapping like venomous snake. The white-haired captain lunged forward and striked quickly, proving him wrong. "Are you insane? You would kill your own subordinate?"
"You are not Kaien," he replied firmly, convincing himself more than the hollow. "I will not allow the likes of you to have Kaien's body." Hand raised for the final blow, his chest tightens. No . . . thought. Not here . . . not now! His knees buckled and blood showered the grass, peppering the ground with crimson droplets despite covering his mouth. Squinting through his pain, he saw a certain someone he wish wasn't there. "You fool!" he shouts raspily at Rukia. "Why did you come back?!"
The petite girl stood, frozen to the ground. Time slowed and the Captain of the 13th Division scrambled toward his subordinate. At that point, he was convinced that he would lose at least two officers in that very field that day. Staggering closer, he realizes that he was mistaken. Suddenly, the sky opened and water fell upon the world.
"Thank you," he heard vaguely through the pattering rain. It was unmistakably Kaien's voice—the real Kaien. A katana jutted out of his back, right through him, and Jūshirō immediately knew that Rukia had done what he couldn't, coughing fit or not. A flicker of pride crosses his conscious, and he opens his mouth to speak.
"Taicho," interrupts Rukia's voice, quivering despite her efforts. "May I take his body to his family?" He looked into her eyes and his pride faltered. They were filled with pain, filled with guilt, and even more so, filled his heartbreaking tragedy. He nodded slightly and watched the relatively small woman stumble under the extra weight.
That will settle the disturbances in her heart, he decides, opting not to help her.
But it hadn't, which Jūshirō learns immediately when he sets his eyes upon that same woman at the military funeral provided for Kaien. As Yamamoto-sōtaichō enumerates Kaien's prestigious accomplishments, she sits straight as a rod and wrings her hands. Her entire body seems as if it is bolted to her seat, the only thing keeping her from falling to the ground. Looking past her, he sees Kuchiki Byakuya.
Rukia, Jūshirō thinks bleakly, watching her quiver discreetly. She won't allow herself to cry in front of Byakuya.
She seems like a dam during a storm, ready to burst any second now. As Yamamoto-sōtaichō concludes the eulogy, people begin standing to visit the open casket. Slowly rising himself, he sees that Rukia remains seated. He decides that she probably cannot handle this and realizes that he cannot either. He lowers himself back into his seat, but stops midway as a hand grabs his arm and holds him up firmly.
"Come on, Jū-chan," whispers the source as he drags Jūshirō along with him. "Let's say goodbye to Kaien." One rarely sees Kyōraku Shunsui without his pink, flowered haori, but he had taken it off and actually seems solemn in his captain's haori. "He was a great man," he says finally after a long moment of staring at the dearly departed.
"Yes," Jūshirō agrees, "he was."
"And still is," Shunsui adds, causing Jūshirō to break his attention away from Kaien's still body and diverts it to Shunsui. He finds that the somber moods of the 8th Division Captain never last, as the man is grinning ear to ear.
"Why are you smiling?" Jūshirō growls angrily.
"You've been a captain as long as I have," Shunsui replies, not really supplying an answer. "One of the first things we learn as captains is that our subordinates will most likely be injured, maimed, or killed in battle. You've lost subordinates before, I'm sure, so I assume that you've only forgotten this because death struck too close to your heart." His grin fades into a droopy smile and he places a hand on Jūshirō's shoulder. "Kaien was a great man, and he still is. When he departed from this world, he left mourners in his wake, as every death does. But you seem to forget—death leaves more than just tragedy." His head cocks slightly and his eyes soften. "He left behind his heart, his memory, both of which will thrive in you. Furthermore," he says, deciding to finally answer his question, "Kaien made his death as meaningful as his life, and that deserves a smile, like a bottled message in a sea of tears."
By this point, Jūshirō's face is already buried into Shunsui's shoulder.
"There, there, Jū-chan," he whispers softly, patting his back soothingly. Finally pulling out, Jūshirō takes one last look at Kaien and genuinely smiles briefly.
"Goodbye, Kaien," he whispers. "Be at peace."