Sunsets used to remind him of his childhood. They reminded him of evenings spent on the porch of the home he and Hinamori shared with the woman who had become their surrogate grandmother. Their colors reminded him of the fruits they grew in their farm and sold to the locals. That transition from day to night seemed to stand still, the memories made during those times lasting forever.
There was a time he feared that whenever he'd look at a sunset, he'd only be able to think of Hinamori. Of her laughter. Of her kind soul. Of her captain's betrayal. Of her death.
Over time, sunsets began to remind him of black and white balls, running in the grass, and Kurosaki Karin's determined eyes. He vaguely noticed that different aspects of a sunset reminded him of the oddest things. The gradual drop in temperature made him remember the small amount of warmth he could feel radiating off of her when she was close enough to him. The colors that flashed across the sky reminded him of the way the colors would reflect in her eyes.
Her eyes, he'll never forget those eyes. He'd never seen eyes that were so easily readable to those who cared enough to look; eyes that held so much emotion, too much for a girl her age.
He glanced outside the open window of his office in the Tenth Division. Most of the sky had changed to a darker blue by now. That's how most evenings went in his office these days: sunsets were missed either due to reminiscing over memories or powering through paperwork. The young captain gave a brief glance at the date near the top of the form he was working on. After careful calculation, he estimated that she would be nearing her 20th birthday soon. He knew, through the help of his fuku-taichou's blabbering, that she'll be graduating soon from University, and was silently proud of her.
It had been a couple of years since he'd last seen the hot-headed woman, but he had never stopped thinking of her. How many nights had he spent on the roof, staring at the sky as if it held the answers his heart so desperately sought? How many nights had he spent tossing and turning and unable to rid himself of the guilt of never speaking up about his feelings for her?
Despite it all, he remained closed away. He knew he'd never be able to have her as he wanted her. She was still living her life on earth amongst the living, while he protected them as a spirit in Soul Society. Even when she passed on and joined him here, would she remember him? Would Karin feel the same way about him dead as she did alive?
He shook his head as head shuffled the papers in his hand before clipping them together. Even if he was lucky enough to have her here, remembering him and caring for him all the same, he knew without a doubt that she'd want to become a shinigami. Once again, he'd be forced to love her from afar because he knew there would be no amount of luck in existence that would have Yamamoto-soutachiou allowing him to love freely another shinigami.
Glancing at the door, a sudden wave of exhaustion hit him. His face relaxed back into its solemn expression that he'd taken to wearing when alone. The couch looked ever so inviting then. A small laughter filled his head as he slept. Dreams of stolen intimate moments and sparring matches invaded his sleep, only to be forgotten before the morning came.