Title: Logic
A/N
: I think this collection is going to be a bit longer than I previously imagined.
Disclaimer
: I don't own Bleach.


"I'm going out for a little while." That she's pulled on her long, thick dark blue coat is all the indication Ryuuken needs of that, and considering how much Sayuri hates the cold and the snow, it's more than a little surprising that she's choosing to head out now. Last year she more or less holed herself up in the house until the temperature came back to sixty five degrees and above.

Then, the familiar, musty reiatsu hits him from… somewhere, maybe nearby—it's hard to judge distance with all the human spirits overlapping it—and Ryuuken can guess just what it is drawing Sayuri outside into the deep December cold, persuading her to disregard her frankly visceral hatred of winter.

"You're going to get yourself killed one of these days."

She quirks a smile. "So you say."

In the living room, Ryuuken watches from the couch as Uryuu wanders aimlessly around the room—having yet to so much as utter a word, the child does so in silence—examining everything he comes across, from the dusty blinds (naturally, sneezing ensues) to the electrical outlet—

Okay, I think it's high time exploration be brought to an end. Ryuuken crosses the room and pulls Uryuu into his arms before small fingers can touch the outlet. "They say curiosity killed the cat," he informs his son, frowning slightly. "You'd best pray they didn't mean small children as well."

Uryuu, predictably, does not respond. He only stares at him with a near-disturbing calm, and Ryuuken's frown deepens. Children of just over a year old shouldn't be able to adopt such piercing stares.

Sayuri's sitting on the couch when Ryuuken returns, and she smiles and strokes her son's hair absently. She's finally regained, in full, the energy that pregnancy sapped her of. The life's back in her pale face and that all-too-familiar light has returned to her eyes.

She can hear the calling singing in her blood, just like my father and all the ones who have passed beyond. I'm still deaf to it, at least. Ah, well. She wouldn't be Sayuri is she was at all grounded in the living world. But still…

Sayuri's soft voice breaks on Ryuuken's pensive thoughts. "I know your mentality, Ryuuken." There, that's the voice of someone getting ready for… for… something, though to be perfectly honest Ryuuken's not sure what.

"And I still stand by it," he remarks, shifting Uryuu so the boy sits more securely on his lap; if he takes his eye off him for even one second Ryuuken's sure he'll go straight back to the electrical outlet near the door. "I don't see why the dead can't be left to care for their own, and why we can't just leave well enough alone."

"You can," Sayuri replies airily. They've had this conversation before, and the only time it ever got remotely heated was the first time; teenagers aren't exactly known for sporting perpetually cool heads. "You're a grown man; your decisions are your own. But let's just look at it this way. If Hollows come to large enough numbers and they can't find any disembodied souls to feed on, they eventually start going for living prey. So the way I see it, hunting down Hollows helps the living too."

As usual, her logic, however straightforward or twisted it may be, has hit the mark and Ryuuken can't find any reasonable argument against it. "So I take it your confidence in my ability to look after Uryuu alone for a few hours has increased recently?"

She shrugs. "You're getting a little better. You don't burn the milk anymore and you've stopped dropping ominously cheesy one-liners." Apparently she didn't hear the 'curiosity killed the cat' comment. "I don't think that showing absolutely no confidence in your parenting skills is going to solve anything." As much as Ryuuken would like to say that he doesn't think that looking after Uryuu for a couple of hours is going to make him feel any less awkward around their child, he can't quite find the words. He never has been able to, in situations like this.

Sayuri starts to get up, but Ryuuken tugs on her wrist, brow furrowed. "Just be careful."

She smiles brightly. "I always am."

I've seen scars on you that tell me you're not. There's a reason our people tend to die young, you know.

As she slips out the front door, Ryuuken suddenly wonders why he didn't say goodbye.

Oh well. Goodbyes can be said any time and she'll be back in a few hours anyway. Simple logic.