Characters: Ryuuken, Uryuu
Summary: Memory remains unconquered.
Warnings/Spoilers: No spoilers
Timeline: Pre-manga
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
The rain clouds curl back and let shafts of light spill through their cracks and shiver, carrying his memories with them, catapulting him back into the past not of his own volition or inclination.
The past is not a place where Ryuuken likes to go. All reminders of the past he turns his eyes from and is glad his eyesight blurs, so he can't see it as clearly as others would. It does not take a trained eye to see that old facts and realities shadow him wherever he goes, but he would deny it all if he could, tries desperately to, but can't.
Those who live in the past have ceased to find joy in the present. Those who run try to outrun their pasts. And those who never move forward from their stationary position try to avoid creating a past for themselves at all. Ryuuken would stand still and never move an inch if he could.
But memories as ever are invincible, and they won't be denied by a half-dead smoker with a nasty stare anymore than they'll be denied by anyone else.
Ryuuken's never been able to comprehend why the mind remembered what it does. Her eyes, her smile, the sound of her voice when unhurried and relatively calm. Dark hair, blue eyes, pale skin, but never her in entirety; he's blocked up memory enough that he doesn't think he can remember all of her at once.
Bits and pieces are enough to make him wish that there were cataracts on his memory, or that the cataracts would just come off—whatever it would take to fix this and keep the past from following him everywhere.
The flow of memories is interrupted with the sight of the small child coming up the sidewalk, shoulders hunched, shirt soaked and clinging to his skin, long bangs hanging in tendrils, trying to pick his way around all the puddles even though he's already drenched.
Looking at him, Ryuuken wishes his eyes would blur just a little more, so he could see her there.