Title: Tradition of Poetry
Pairing: Uryuu x Ichigo
Summary: Events after Uryuu decides to go with Ryuuken's ultimatum.
A/N: Intended as a sequel to "In Your Head".
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There isn't much time left, between school, homework and sleep. Not much time before an ally returns to being an enemy.
Which is really a good thing – it means few idle moments for the mind to dwell on events of the past few months, as it is wont to do, when there are unresolved issues.
He refuses to give leeway to the slippery intangible called sentiment. There is nothing more shameful than having that contaminate his thoughts on something this important. Ishida Uryuu takes pride in the fact his decisions are sound and based on painstakingly laid foundations of logic and rational thinking.
He heads off to the library. Today's assignment is on the tradition of poetry. He needs to gather more readings.
Somewhere in the literature section, he fails to dodge fast enough – how he wishes he still retained the lightning speed of his reflexes – and Ichigo corners him, with an almost predatorial intent.
"You've been ignoring me." Ichigo accuses. Uryuu glances away to the side. Ah, look where we are – right smack in the section of the haiku masters.
"Don't tell me it's your time of the month," Ichigo snarls.
Uryuu bites back a sarcastic retort. Being around Ichigo makes him fall into these patterns of defensive responses – strangely comforting in how it affirms a type of normalcy between them.
But now, there must not be any more of this familiarity. Uryuu ignores the taunt. Turning his attention to the bookshelf beside him, he makes sure to take his time to pick off a few choice volumes.
"Communicate, dammit!"
At the nearby tables, heads turn disapprovingly in their direction. Uryuu gives Ichigo a level look and points to the overhead sign – "Silence please". He tucks the books under his arm and walks towards the private study rooms.
"You know me this much now. Think you can just walk away?" So sharp, it feels like a stab and makes the back of Uryuu's neck tighten.
I certainly can. Can you?
Uryuu opens the door to the private study room and enters. As he expects, Ichigo catches up and barges in before the door swings shut.
"I want a good explanation." Ichigo brushes past brusquely.
Uryuu gently turns the lock and Ichigo plants himself in the only chair in the tiny room. Now it looks like no homework will get done today.
"I am going out of town for a few days," Uryuu says softly as he sets the pile of hardbacks down on the table. "You won't hear from me."
"Like I would buy that." Ichigo hooks an elbow over the back of the chair, prepared for this to be long and drawn out. "What the fuck is going on."
What the fuck does the future hold? is what Uryuu wants to ask. Instead he swallows his words. The debate that would ensue would just be a waste of time. The way ahead was too full of uncertainty. One thing was certain though -- he would not even die a Quincy if he fails to carry through.
"Nothing. Don't presume just because I spent that night over with you, there's something going on ..."
Ichigo leaps out of the chair and grabs Uryuu by the collar. A direct lunging attack that he should have easily sidestepped. He tries to pry Ichigo off, and backs away hard into the desk. Ichigo grabs his wrists and shoves him face down on the tabletop.
The slim volume at the top of the stack slides off and clatters open somewhere near his face. His glasses are only slightly askew – and he sees clearly, the sparse words that leap out at him, stark against the yellowed paper:
Awakened at midnight
by the sound of the water jar
cracking from the ice
(Basho, trans. Hamill)