Notes: For an anonymous request "red and white". Title from the September 11, 2005 prompt for the lj community 31_days.


Strands of white slipped between Renji's fingers, but he disentangled them easily, being careful not to tear or yank. Blood flecked Ukitake's mouth, and he brought a tissue to his lips to dab it away. He tensed in anticipation of another series of heaving coughs. When it did not come, he swept a hand across his brow to wipe away the faint sheen of sweat.

He wanted to break the uncomfortable silence. "How has work been going?"

"Fine," Renji lied. "How have you been feeling?"

"Fine," Ukitake lied.

Renji frowned, concerned. He had already been out for some time, but his condition didn't seem to be improving. And he shouldn't be thinking about returning to work now, when it was a daily struggle to take an afternoon stroll in the gardens. Not that things were faring well without him. Seireitei, hell all of Soul Society, was still in shambles and they were just beginning to pick up the pieces. Wounds were still fresh, but there was a lot to be done and few people competent enough to do it.

Renji himself had been approached and strongly encouraged to pursue captaincy, but he had declined. He wasn't ready. Maybe they felt they needed someone and he would be the most convenient replacement, but Renji would be a captain when he was well and truly prepared for the position. Not a moment sooner. In the mean time, he would be the leader and vice-captain his division needed. It was almost funny, a few years ago he would have leaped at what was surely the chance of a lifetime, his dream, but now...Now...He had changed. Everyone had changed.

For example, Ukitake-taichou had taken to wearing his hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Renji once asked if he had a particular reason.

"It's funny you should mention it, Abarai-fukutaichou," he had said, with a weak smile. "I used to wear my hair just like this, oh it must have been more than a hundred years ago."

The pinwheels were even brighter red in contrast, like blood on snow. But Renji didn't want to reminisce. He closed his eyes; the airy scarf felt like it could choke him with the weight of all those dead.

Ukitake erupted into heaving coughs, stumbling into Renji's waiting arms. His pale skin stained with blood again. He was doubled over; tired eyes lifted as he straightened up, looking somewhere past the bit of sky over Renji's shoulder.

"All this time, friend, and I'm the one still clinging to life." He sounded uncharacteristically dark. Renji knew he wasn't addressing him, but he answered anyway.

"All the more reason to go on living. He'd never let you hear the end of it." Ukitake might have laughed at this, but it came out like a soft sigh.

"Besides," Renji added. "I think we're all sick of carrying coffins."