This part with Byakuya may get kinda gross...I'm sorry. I needed to explain his condition. Read on!
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Chapter 3: Thoughts and Bike Rides on Saturday Mornings
In my dream Ichigo and I were boating in a lagoon. Strands of weeping willows hung around our canoe, falling onto the oars the boatman was rowing with. Tatsuki (dressed in a male suit) was there for some reason, and she was serving us dinner, balancing on the prow of the boat with a waiter's tray in her hand. Ichigo fed me bits of spaghetti off his fork; I opened my mouth wide and smiled widely at him after each bite.
The dream ended when I said shyly to Ichigo (Tatsuki had suddenly disappeared), "Thanks for the date. I had fun." Reaching across my lap, picking up my left hand, and intertwining his fingers with mine, Ichigo looked me dead in the eyes and said, "This was the best date I have ever had. Want to make it even better?"
My eyes shot open just as Ichigo leaned in to kiss me. My mouth tingled.
I'm home. Not in a lagoon with Ichigo. I couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed for some reason.
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted when Byakuya broke into a loud coughing fit in the next room over. I heard him roll over in bed, coughing so hard he could barely breathe, and stagger into the bathroom for a glass of water. The sink ran loudly, and suddenly I heard a loud thump.
Throwing off my sheets, I rushed into the bathroom. Byakuya was bent over the sink, his face pale. He had just coughed up a ball of green mucus into the sink, and his coughs told me more was coming up his throat.
Ever since I was four years old, I had lived with my sister, seventeen years my senior, and her husband. My parents had died, and Hisana had married Byakuya when she was just nineteen. They took me in, decorated a room in their apartment, and ordered a queen sized four-poster bed and a desk.
Hisana and Byakuya became my parents. They tucked me in at night, scared away any monsters in my closet, and kissed my forehead. On nights when I couldn't sleep, I would go to their bedroom, and slide myself in between the two of them, their heartbeatts lulling me away. Hisana used to sing to me softly, her pure voice low so she wouldn't wake her tired husband. I still can't remember my parent's faces or how they acted towards me- it seemed like Hisana and Byakuya had always taken care of me.
The first time I saw Byakuya, I remember I was scared. He seemed so serious and harsh compared to soft, fun-loving Hisana. But underneath that harsh exterior, I realized within a few weeks, was a total softie. Byakuya loved Hisana so much that he was willing to do anything for her. That kind of love supported their entire marriage and their guardianship of me.
I was so happy with them. My sister was beautiful and funny and sweet and had skin like silk when she rubbed her cheek against my face. Byakuya would pick me up and swing me around screaming in delight when the three of us took our weekly walk around the neighborhood park. Sometimes, my sister claimed that I was really her daughter if people asked.
Byakuya, every morning, without fail, would kiss Hisana on the cheek and ruffle my hair before leaving for work. Hisana would ride with me on the subway to school, drop me off at the front gates, and continue on to her architecture firm's office. That's what Hisana was- an architect. She was always focused on expanding the world and creating her own designs.
After Hisana passed three years ago with a seemingly insignificant bout of influenza, I struggled. So did Byakuya. The doctors at the hospital hadn't helped. At the beginning they kept saying, "Oh, she'll pull through, don't worry" or "This is just a mild case of the flu, easily cured".
Every doctor we spoke to continued to deny that she was truly sick and that they had no definite way to cure her. When she died quietly and without warning in her sleep, Byakuya yelled at her doctors for hours for not realizing that she was dying in their care. The doctors said they were sorry, but she was dead now. There was no way to bring my sister back.
We went through phases where we couldn't talk to each other, for fear that we would both lose control and cry shamelessly. Byakuya hated his tears more than anything else. I know that my face reminded Byakuya too much of his dead wife's, and there were times he would not even look at me.
One night, he cooked me dinner for the first time in months. We sat at the dinner table together in silence, each of us contemplating how to start a conversation. I remember my mouth watering as I stared down at my dish of shrimp and salmon. As we continued not to speak, I got discouraged, but then I noticed Byakuya sending me little glances every few seconds. I realized the meal was his way of apologizing for ignoring me the past few months while he grieved.
We pulled through together. He told me that we needed to heal from the pain of losing Hisana together- trying to deal alone only multiplied the pain. That's why always I need to watch out for Byakuya and look after him. No matter how tough he acts, he is really quite fragile. Even if he gets sick, he will push himself to his limits and accept more pain than he deserves.
As Byakuya continued to throw up the mucus and hack away, I held his shoulder-length hair away from his mouth. Once the coughs had stopped racking his body, he gently touched my hand, face still bent over the sink. His mouth barely moving, he whispered, "You can leave. I'll be fine. I know you're tired." I had chosen that moment to yawn loudly. Trying to hide the bags under my eyes and my yawns, I attempted to shake my head and tighten my grip on his hair. Byakuya pushed me away again.
He really wanted to be alone. Getting up from my slightly crouched position, I heard my knees creak. As soft as I could, I shut the bathroom door and left Byakuya huddled over the sink.
I looked out the window once I was back tucked into bed. The sky was just beginning to lighten, soft rays of pink and yellow barely brushing the tops of buildings. Setting my alarm for 6:00, I rolled over, hugged my pillow around my head, and fell back asleep. My last conscious thought was, "I hope Byakuya gets to bed okay."
At 6:00, after a dreamless nap, my alarm sounded off, blaring directly into my ear. I shot up like a cannon, staring wildly straight ahead until my pulse slowed. I slowly reclined back down to rest on the pillows, my spine arching until I found a comfortable position. Reaching for my cell phone, I saw the screen flashing with a text from Ichigo.
"Don't forget- beach today. Come to my house at noon to help pack the picnic basket."
Shit. I totally forgot.
Every weekend since Ichigo and I decided we were best friends (when we were six), I have gone out with his family on what they refer to as "bonding experiences". When the weather is hot, we go to the beach or to the park. When it's cold, I bundle up and brave the chilly air and piles of snow to meet the Kurosakis at their apartment. Even when we play board games and drink hot chocolate inside, every activity always turns into a snowball fight: Ichigo and Rukia vs. Isshin, Karin, and Yuzu. Ichigo and I usually win, mostly because Isshin gets distracted by shiny objects and can be defeated easily, and Yuzu refuses to play due to her views of snowball fighting as a form of violence.
Once we took a break from tradition and went ice skating. Somehow Ichigo's father managed to turn a fun activity like ice skating into a traumatic experience. First he crashed into me, causing me to flop on the ice right on top of Ichigo. Next, he tangled his skates with an angry Karin, and we spent the next twenty minutes trying to separate Isshin from Karin's deadly fists. Ichigo and I stood off to the side at that point, completely dazed and wondering why we decided to come in the first place.
6:18. I remembered why I had woken up so early in the first place. I quickly threw on some shorts and a t-shirt, stole into the living room, and grabbed some fruit.
Taking a quick peek in the thin opened crack of Byakuya's bedroom door, I poked my head in. He was fast asleep under the covers, and his breathing was a little ragged but much steadier than it had been a few hours before. Good.
Using a little magnet, I attached a note to the fridge explaining where I was going. Hopefully Byakuya would read it before he started freaking out thinking I was kidnapped.
Unlocking the back door into the alley, I found my old bike leaning delicately against some trash cans. I swung my legs around the seat and, feeling my feet hit the pedals, pumped furiously out of the alley until I hit the street.
Biking early in the morning lets me think. I'm by myself, no distractions except for the crisp morning air and the movement of a few shopkeepers eager to start the weekend sales. Plus, the rush of adrenaline biking gives me is better than any high.
I pedaled hard, energy shooting through me. A few beads of sweat had already begun to drip carelessly down my face. My muscles had begun to ache already. But it felt so good. The harder I work to move the bike, the better I always feel. It's like a strange sense of accomplishment.
Biking is my remembrance. I can reach as many memories around the city as I want in a short period of time. Stop somewhere, and recall some moment or conversation I had with anyone. The lamppost on the corner of my street. The door of the ice cream shop off the sidewalk a few buildings over. The bench outside of what was Hisana's favorite store. Every little thing represented a small fragment of my life.
I could fly by the world in muted colors and sounds. Every building, tree, and car blended together until I felt like I was trapped in a merry-go-round. I couldn't escape and yet I felt so peaceful. Watching the world run by is strangely nice.
Then my bike hit a rock and I flew through the air, arms flailing wildly, landing in the middle of the sidewalk. Wow. Smooth. The few people that were out this early stared, some openly laughing as they set down crates or bags they were carrying. The look on my face must have been hysterical. Looking down at my body, I saw a few small cuts on my knees and scrapes on my hands. Nothing major wounded except my pride. I dusted myself off with as much dignity as I could muster, and hobbled off the scene with my bike in tow.
Hearing a guy snickering behind me as I stalked away, I whirled around. "ICHIGO!" Of course it's him; I could recognize that laugh anywhere. He kept laughing after I yelled at him. By this point, he was clutching his stomach, nearly doubled over on the ground, screaming with laughter at the pissed-off expression on my face. When he had sufficiently recovered from his laughing fit enough to stand up straight, he said, "Nice fall. I should have caught that on video."
"If you had," I replied, my temper already rising with the blush on my face- wait why was I blushing?- "I would have burnt the damn camera."
"Rukia. Look at me."
Obeying his order, and scared at how serious his tone suddenly was, I allowed myself a glance at his face. But of course, once I had looked once, I was hooked. The sunlight streamed behind his head, making his hair appear on fire. His intense amber eyes were lit up with emotions I couldn't read, and the small sliver his mouth was set into made me shiver.
Why was I thinking he was so goddamn sexy? Before Orihime commented that she knew I liked him, I had never really though about Ichigo this way. Sure, I had thought he was hot for a while, and might have had one dream about jumping him, but that was it. I honestly had never given his attractiveness too much thought, but as I stared at his gorgeous face, it was all I could think about. Until his next words.
"Orihime talked to me about you."
Sorry this chapter was shorter and kind of a filler! I thought I should explain more about Hisana cuz I hadn't yet. Please stay tuned for the next chapter (which will have more action, I promise)!