Memorabilia
Everything around you reminds you of her.
The rabbit plush toy on display in the toy shop's window, the cartons of juice boxes stacked outside the convenience store, the manga you come across as you stop by the bookstore.
You walk out as if unbothered, but no one knows better than you. Your steps are deliberate, unconsciously quickening, but your feet then decide to twist around, heading back to the toy store; you buy the rabbit plush toy without a second thought.
Continuing your journey home, ignoring curious looks from passer-bys as you hug the rabbit to your side, your head tries to block out everything else, only focusing on moving your feet forward. There was no need for more reminders.
In your room, you unceremoniously toss your recent purchase (deciding to name it Chappy, for you can't think of a more suitable one) into the corner as you survey the bed, the desk, the closet. Such familiar furniture, and such familiar memories shared around them. Impulsively, you shift the bed away from the wall nearer to the window, so that more sunlight streams onto you as you wake up in the mornings. Still unsatisfied, you turn the bed around so the bedpost is facing the opposite of the original direction. You continue fussing around the room, arranging this, discarding that, and an hour later, you decide on a break.
Until you turn around and see the closet, and Chappy lying face-down beside it. The closet was built into the wall – ripping it apart would get you in trouble with your dad.
So you open it, the scent of a someone you know wafting to your nose. You hold your breath, trying to deny another reminder, before picking up Chappy and placing it carefully in the centre of the shelf before viciously slamming the closet door shut, at the same time shutting down your memories of her.
That weekend, you go out with your dad and siblings for new furniture. The purple of the quilts blind you, and the white curtains seem to laugh at you, so you settle for light green quilts and a metal bookrack. Back home, you feel a need for a new bed as you fix up the bookrack (so much for all that moving), and your dad agrees to go out with you the next weekend to buy one, patting you on the back as he says so. You know that he's seen through you.
Monday arrives – another school day. The calendar on your desk reminds you to take care of Kondou-san's rabbit after school, unless you'd prefer a beating from your boss. You try a different route to school, and as you pass the park, a black butterfly flies right by your nose, as if mocking your present state, and you let out a strangled laugh.
Rukia…
No matter how you try to make the memories fade, how you change the world around you, the universe will always remind you of her, her, and only her.
A/N: This was written shortly after the Fullbring arc started, and set some time in the first few months Ichigo didn't have his powers. I know I'm posting it kinda late haha.