Disclaimer: Bleach and its characters belong to Kubo T.
"Giving someone a piece of your soul is better than giving a piece of your heart. Because souls are eternal."
- Helen Boswell
Rukia threaded through the room like a furtive cat.
She jumped from his window just like the old days. A whiff of smoke caught Rukia's eyes, and she turned her head to its direction. There lied on the bedside table a bunch of cigarette butts crumpled on the ashtray. She noticed the ember at the tip of one of the cigarettes where the smoke drifted from.
Something flaming, something orange...
Its glow reminded Rukia of his signature shade, but she was distracted from her thoughts by the odor of the room which made her wheeze. Putting her hand over her chest, she bounced from his bed to the floor. He was nowhere to be found.
Rukia exited Ichigo's room and went downstairs.
The house was a mess. She never recognized that this dingy home was once the lively place she visited years ago when Orihime was still alive.
A bouquet of lifeless daisies stood out from the couch. Rukia was about to pick it up when she heard something crash on the floor.
He's in the kitchen.
Getting there for her was as painstaking as traveling from Soul Society to Las Noches. Pity that when she heard the news, she didn't rush to his side right away. Months of her neglect only led to this.
It was about time for her to see him, to put her hands over his shoulder, her fingers leaving traces of comfort on his body.
"Ichigo." She called out his name, unable to see his face from dozens of liquor bottles piling up on the table. "I heard."
The way he moved his arms reminded her of branches cracking from a tree.
"They're gone," he faintly muttered.
"I'm sorry, not even the 12th Division could have predicted that the remnants of your hollow genetics could still affect Kazui."
"I can't just..." Ichigo trailed off as he rotated his right hand in front of his face. He looked at it like how a curious archaeologist examines a newly dug fossil, then continued: "I can't kill my own son, you know. Even if I can no longer recognize him. And even if he killed his mother."
"I understand," Rukia said, trying to stand firmly on her feet. "That is why I have been assigned to do it on your behalf."
With a resigned look on his face, Ichigo finally stared into her eyes. "Do you think...I should return?"
"Soul Society isn't really the best place if you're looking for something ideal to live in." Rukia clenched her fist. "There are only a few of us who want to change the system from within, but we could use a little help."
She mustered up the courage to stand by his side and take his hand in hers. She noticed him flinch, but she kept still and said, "In the end, it's actually up to you."
She couldn't believe that the hand she was holding right there was the one who reached out to her when she was about to be executed by Soukyoku. His reiatsu was as weak as the flame in his cigarette.
"Idiot. Can you stop smoking? It's going to kill you."
She trembled when he tightened his grip on her.
But Rukia continued. "Whatever; this conversation is useless. Seeing you like this, I think I'm gonna have to kick you all the way back to Soul Society to whack some life into you."
She was really unsure of what to say next. She's never used to comforting people. Still, she tried her best: "I know she's gone. I'm sorry, I know she matters a lot to you."
Upon hearing this, Ichigo's reiatsu surged through the room like flashes of lightning.
She knows exactly what he'll say next. In fact, she knows him all too much - and that's what made his next words all the more painful.
"...Not as much as an old friend of mine mattered to me."