II- Spiralling into Her Radiant Sun

"In memory's telephoto lens, far objects are magnified." -John Updike

-

She woke up from her slumber with the gentle rays of morning's light showering her face and the lulling music of two singing white-throated sparrows meeting her ears. She was reluctant to rise up amidst such a lovely morning; above that, her sleep was restful and dreamless, one which brought such tranquillity to her mind after the many frustrating nights of insomnia.

She unwillingly opened her eyes, expecting to see her almost bare room in the Kuchiki House, expecting another servant of the House asking for her requests for breakfast, expecting herself to say, 'nothing' as usual.

But what came to view was far from what she had expected: a slow-spinning ceiling fan, a thin yet comfortable blanket that covered her body, an ajar window by her side, blowing in the summer's breeze and no Kuchiki House servant.

She sat up on her designated sleeping place and looked around. The area was definitely not her room, far from it. Other than a built-in closet, a desk littered with books and stationery, a pile of clothes near an adjoining door, the room was minimally furnished with items.

And she was not wearing her shinigami uniform either. Taking place of the customary black uniform was a grey tracksuit. His tracksuit, she recalled with a smile. That she knew; it has his smell, a poignant smell that she had grown accustomed to. There was a tang of cinnamon scent and a tinge of white lilies— maybe he used the same softener that Yuzu used all those years ago? She buried herself in the fabric and smiled to herself. She missed this.

She missed him. So much.

"Thought you'd be awake."

Rukia turned towards the voice and forced her beating heart to calm down. She cursed herself. She needed to get used to hearing his voice now and again. He was standing by the doorway, holding a tray of what she thought was food. Sitting on a chair near the bed, he placed the tray on the desk. His hair was flattened with dampness and he smelled like soap. She had this compelling urge to run her fingers through that mess of orange hair.

"Wha—" she started.

"You fell asleep," he explained, not even having to hear the full question. "I couldn't let you sleep in the living room, so I brought you here."

"Here…?"

"My bedroom… my apartment." He tilted his head towards the door. "Don't worry. I slept in the living room instead. Nothing happened, if that's what you were thinking." He handed her the tray of food and said, "Breakfast."

'Breakfast' consisted of cereal and milk with a glass of orange juice. He added unnecessarily, while rubbing the back of his neck, "I tried to make something, but the egg turned black and toast burned."

No one asked her what she wanted. She just had to accept it. Cereal and milk, in exchange of her usual extensive breakfast at the Kuchiki House.

Rukia loved it.

Her face broke into a smile, and the smile broke into laughter.

"No need to laugh!" He raised his voice while his cheeks addled into a mottled rubicund and pink. "I tried, okay?" She covered her mouth and gradually her laughter stopped. A few seconds passes before she noticed that he was staring at her for a moment, taking in all her depiction. His amber eyes blinked curiously at her form, like looking back at a long forgotten friend in an old photograph.

Her turn to colour.

"What…?"

"Nah, you just look familiar. Have we met before?"

Her heart beat erratically behind her ribcage; it felt so loud, it was as if he could hear it too. Nevertheless, she grinned. Acting has been quite a talent for her; pretending who she was and who she wasn't, hiding her feelings deep in the caverns of her heart, lying about her needs and wants. She's had a lot of practice with her brother— not much shown to him was what she really felt.

"Of course not," she said.

To which he let out a chuckle again. "Yeah, you're right. Course not."

"Kurosaki Ichigo," he introduced.

Rukia smiled, before taking a bite from her breakfast. "Kuchiki Rukia."

Contented, Ichigo swivelled towards his desk and started reading one of the thick books sprawled on his desk. For seven years, she had been longing to see him clearly— Rukia had glimpses of him while doing her duty somewhere nearby Karakura, but hindered by her fears, she had never been able to really look at him. This time, however she was so near, so close to him, every feature seemed to be magnified under her liquid violet eyes. The petite woman let herself stare at his character, taking in all his features one by one.

Those brown eyes were flitting rapidly above the words, taking in all the meaning behind the text. His skin was sun-kissed, smooth, and tanned. That soft orange hair obscured his view a bit; he constantly had to push them out of the way. Those rough calloused hands were playing around with the pencil he was holding and—

He turned towards her.

"If you keep staring at me like that, Rukia, your cereal would get soggy."

She held her chin up stubbornly. "I wasn't looking at you."

The sides of his lips curled up in a skeptical smirk. She knew that look. It was his trademark 'Yeah-right-sure-you-weren't' grin. "Eat up, will you?"

She took another spoonful. "For the record, I was not looking at you."

"Mmhm," was his lackadaisical reply.

And with that she spiralled back into this world again, as she knew she would. She had turned her sun into a black hole ever since she forcefully ripped her memories from him. And now the same black hole was pulling her entire essence into this world again.

This time she didn't give a damn about what her brother thought.

She let herself spiral back into his world, Ichigo's world.

Your injuries were extremely fast-healing, I noticed.

The wound I saw yesterday was practically gone; any trace of it was no longer there. I even wondered to myself whether it was really there from the beginning or not. Surely my mind was playing tricks.

"But yesterday there was a lot of blood… you were bleeding, your clothes were soaked," I thought out loud.

"I'm a fast healer. You're a doctor, Ichigo. You should know why."

"Not to this extent, seriously."

You shrugged, not minding the fact that your body heals itself much faster than the normal human rate. It was a bit of, shall I say, a miracle? I swear to God, I'd honestly be filled with disbelief if your foot was suddenly all better today.

I have no reason to though.

"Your foot's still swollen, Rukia." I gently traced my fingers over the inflamed area. "It could take a week to heal. But with your healing rate, I'd guess in three days."

"So," you suddenly said, looking up at me. "Can I stay here because of that?"

"Not necessarily. You could go home— it's just a sprain. It'll get better in no time." You stayed silent. I wondered whether I've said something wrong. "Rukia?"

"'Not necessarily'. I mean… I could stay here too, right?" You looked at me with those eyes. I noticed they were purple with a hint of dark blue. What was that? Pleading? Entreating? No, not that. Hopeful. I felt… something when you looked at me like that. I don't know what it was, but it felt refreshing.

I asked you, "Here, as in… my apartment…?"

I must have sounded doubtful, because you looked away as soon as the words passed out of my mouth. "Ah, I see. Well, pretend I didn't—"

Rubbing my hand across my neck, I answered, cutting your sentence, "Well, yeah, sure… you could, but—"

I didn't manage to end my sentence when I saw you smile at me. Really smiled at me— with your small lips curving up, your cheeks lightly colouring, and your eyes shining bright— like I've done you a huge favour.

"Thank you, Ichigo."

Well, what else could I do?

I smiled back at you.

Rukia gathered her shinigami uniform and carefully walked out the door. She had told Ichigo she wanted to get something, but she didn't mention what, where or when she'll be back. Rukia had released a sigh of relief when Ichigo didn't question her; he'd just said, "Be careful, Rukia. Don't run too fast— your ankle's still swollen."

'Be careful, Rukia.'

She smiled at that. She had just noticed that she would smile each time he called her name. Rukia. Ru-kia, that's how he pronounced it, enunciating every syllable as the word rolled off his tongue. A moderately-toned 'Ru' and a mild articulation for 'A'.

She smiled again. It felt ages since the petite shinigami had smiled so genuinely at someone. After that incident, she thought, was the beginning when she wouldn't smile at anyone in Soul Society anymore. He cured that.

He was like her sun after all, bright and revitalizing. Enough to make anyone beam back at the brilliance of his shine. His presence was enough to melt the ice surrounding her heart, enough to warm it back up again, and enough to make her Rukia again.

Rukia held back a giggle. Of course, when they were in high school, he was nothing like that. Not a sun… more like a thunderstorm— scowling, yelling, basically trashing about. He liked to put the weight of the world on his shoulders, burdening himself, not going to share the load on anyone. Ichigo… he does have a lot to carry at that time— trying to be a decent son, a helpful brother, an achieving student… a good shinigami.

Was it the fact that he was a shinigami his burden multiplied?

But then again, it was because he was a shinigami, she had met him. Because he was a shinigami, she had gotten to know him. And it was because he was a shinigami, she had loved him. Truly loved him.

And yet, sometimes, everything was like a mass of contradictions with him. At one moment she felt like shoving Shirayuki up places where it shouldn't be and at the next moment, she would be back in his arms, touching him, kissing him, loving him.

It was like a confusing, exciting, fanatical storm of emotions, ready to overcome her at any time. Crazy, really. Tiring, sometimes. But all in honesty, she wouldn't trade it for the world.

Rukia arrived at her destination.

To her surprise, the door was open; that red-head wasn't outside the store, slacking off; that droopy-eyed girl wasn't gambling with janken to see who had to sweep the front. It was just like a… normal store.

My, my, things have changed since then.

"Ara, ara! Kuchiki-san! Long time no see!"

Rukia looked up to see that familiar unshaved face under that striped hat and clad in that green kimono. The shopkeeper fanned himself with his all-too-trusty fan and gestured for her to come in. Opening her shoes, she arrived at her destination: the Urahara Shouten.

Rukia looked around that once derelict shop. There were edible candies and chocolate stacked on dust-free shelves, up to date books and magazines in their places, and actual usable stationery on sale. And in reasonable prices too! This little shop apparently had a bit of a makeover.

Urahara seemed to sense the questions from her. "After you left, there wasn't really much of a need for stuff like gigais and Soul Candies." He continued on lively, "So I thought, why not open up a shop? As in, a real shop? Business isn't what I call booming, but hey, it's fine." Urahara sat at his usual spot at the on the cushion and unfolded his fan, fanning himself— it was summer after all. "So, what brings you here?"

She hesitated for a moment. Was she doing the right thing? Or was she going to spiral into another chain of errors and mistakes with this action? Rukia took a breath and followed her intuitions.

"I was wondering whether you have… a gigai."

Urahara raised an eyebrow in askance beneath that striped hat. He decided not to ask, and plastered on his usual grin. "Oh, sure, sure! But it's a bit old and unused for a while, I'm afraid. Please hold on, alright?"

After a few moments, Rukia saw Tessai coming out from the back of the store, bringing out something recognizably memorable— her gigai. It still fits perfectly. "How much?"

"Ah, I can't be taking money from you after all this while! On the house!" he exclaimed. "Just for this time, though~!"

Rukia didn't object. She readily took the gigai, gave a curt bow as a form of thanks and left the store. Urahara looked on as her footsteps scuffled across the sandy ground until she took a turn to the left and disappeared from sight.

"My, my," Urahara commented after the petite shinigami had left. "Looks like Kuchiki-san is back again."

"She's with Ichigo," Yoruichi told, curling her midnight black feline body around the shopkeeper. "I saw her two nights ago… I've heard about stuff regarding her brother for her long-time absence in Karakura. If Byakuya-bo is in this… well, do you think she's making a mistake?"

"Ma," Urahara breathed enigmatically, stroking the cat. "Who knows…"