Hello, my Room.
Hello, dear Pillow.
I'm back for the night.
Uryū pulled the covers closer to his beating heart, his form lying neatly on his own mattress. He was dead exhausted for living a life. It must have sounded weird. But after all he had been through – battling side by side with a shinigami and two spiritually aware mortal classmates – nothing seemed out of place or even… strange anymore. He had been to Soul Society; he had been to Hueco Mundo. He had been to where dead people go.
Death was not so alien. Death had wagged Its tongue at his face one too many times for him to cower in Its shadows.
He let his eye lids fall. He heard his heart's rhythm and every breath he took and released.
Sleep claimed him.
Two persons stood perilously on two flat boulders in the middle of the river. A splendid waterfall cascaded ceaselessly behind them, splashing fantastically upon hitting the crystal clear ravine. They were not very near to the falls or within seconds they would very well be like cottons dipped too long in water. So they chose this secluded spot along the river some half an hour walk away from the main road as their "hideout". The boy had always loved to have a "hideout", a secret lair of his own. He wanted to share it with someone else and he decided last night that Grandfather should be the special one. And he really needed this hideaway because Father had barred him from meeting Grandfather. An hour or two absent from home would not be a big deal. He would say the teacher had delayed them for assignments so he was too late to catch his bus. But lying was bad. Grandfather said deceits were equivalent to sins. So he would not want to tell lies.
But the decision to bluff Father or not can wait.
"Grandfather, can you show me how to form a bow again?"
He was having some difficulties with that. Each time he focused reiryoku in his palm, a flash of something electric blue sparked before it dissipated into thin air. Crushed by the futile effort, the boy squatted on his feet.
"It doesn't work!"
The old man ruffled his grandson's dark hair before breaking into a light laugh. His eyes twinkled and he smiled broadly at the child's confounded façade.
"Have I told you the story of a very queer married couple?"
The younger one shook his head.
"Okay. A man and a woman were married in the chapel after three months courting. But, for some unknown reasons, they could not get along well together and always ended up quarrelling and cursing. And since this man was a rich man, his wife could afford purchasing new porcelain ware and plates for a hobby. Unfortunately, soon after the woman had taken the liking of collecting such items, she would toss and throw them at her husband whenever they started arguing. This went on for every single day, for exactly seven years. On the seventh year, the husband finally said he had had enough and filed for a divorce."
"Gee… that's mad, Grandfather. Why wait for seven years? He should've divorced her right after she threw plates at him."
The older man smiled again.
"Ah, yes… see, that's the riddle for you, Uryū. Why wait for seven long years when he could've freed himself from misery in the beginning and escaped seven years of torment?"
"Aww, this isn't fair! I asked you first, Grandfather!"
"You'll find the answer someday."
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Nature's calling.
Uryū heaved himself grudgingly to the floor. Great, just when he was about to doze off… these untimely natural occurrences in the middle of nights were starting to prove annoying. It must be all the fruits and oats his father made him eat two hours before sleep. No complains though. He knew he would rather have frequent visits to the lavatory than those deathly stabs.
Shivering from the chilly air, he took an oversized coat hanging by the door and draped it clumsily over his back. Then he opened the door, dim light from the empty corridor poured into his room.
It was always dim in here.
Not really paying attention to his feet, he maneuvered along the path until he reached the back area of the Ishida residence. The lamps were switched off here so he could hardly see where he was walking. Still, he trotted warily in case there were other obstacles in his way.
And in the darkness, he spotted illumination surging from under the gap of a door.
It was the door to his father's study chamber.
Curious of his father's uncanny nocturnal habit, the bespectacled boy glided to the side of the entrance and pushed the door cautiously. While his long finger was prodding at the knob, his mind was weighing with what he should do if he heard the man inside moved. If the man coughed, he would scuttle away. If the man kept quiet, he would pause and listen and then decide what to do again. If the man answered the door with an abrupt tug at the other knob, he would… he would…
Probably wish his father "goodnight" before scurrying away.
When it was wide enough, he poked his head in. But Ryūken was nowhere in immediate sight. Surprised, the teen eased his self in.
Everything was in the exact order as he remembered them to be. Only this time, the space was sufficiently lit… he had always come in here when it was gloomy and shadowy. The back of an executive chair was facing him. From his perspective, he saw someone's hair protruding from the top of the seat. Noticing the silvery shades of the bristles, quickly, he blurted, "I saw the lights on and I thought you were… err…"
The person was not listening. Uryū inched closer, careful not to make even a squeak on the waxed parquet floor and turn his head around the chair.
Ryūken was sleeping. He had his fingers intertwined and resting on his lower abdomen as his head drooped to the shoulder. Gentle snores soon echoed in the silent area. Uryū stepped back from his father and removed the loose coat clothing his body. Still maintaining his soundless presence, he wrapped the article on the man's front, tucking the hem around Ryūken's neck and under his arms so as to secure it in its place.
Preparing to leave, Uryū turned to the door when the overcrowded table caught his interest.
What he saw had him rooted to the ground.
Cancer and Treating It… Gastro Related Maladies… Gastric Cancer – Treatments and Follow-ups… Gastric Ulcer and Cancer… Discoveries on Counter Cancer… Medical Research Journal – Cancer (Early Stage)
The door clicked as the boy exited the darkened room – he had switched the glaring lights off. Wearily, Ryūken opened his eyes, casting his sight far beyond the universe into the stars. He clenched his fists tightly under the coat.
I'm sorry, Uryū.
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"Hello?"
"Hello, Orihime speaking! Who's this calling?"
He had no idea why he called this number in the first place. He felt he needed to speak to someone before something happened, or before it was too late. Orihime would be okay; she was his friend after all.
"Err… hello, Inoue-san. Ishida here."
"Oh, Ishida-kun! How are you feeling? No, where are you calling from? No, your dad's house of course. I mean to ask, why do you call here anyway?"
Yes, exactly what he had asked himself moments ago.
"I thought I'd like to say hi and see what I'd missed out at school."
That sounded believable.
"Oh, well you did miss out a few important lessons at school. Sensei actually skipped Chapter Seven for Math though. She said she would probably return to it when she had the time…"
Uryū sat on the stool, pressing the receiver into his ear as he listened carelessly to the seamless flow of garbles Inoue Orihime was famous for. He smiled occasionally, not at the class's sick goldfish Orihime was describing, but of her joyous voice speaking of happy things he knew he would not go through. Somehow he felt a pang every now and then, knowing full well he would not hear her speak anymore.
"Ne, Ishida-kun, are you all right? You don't seem to talk much though."
Well, she was hogging the space for talking.
"I'm fine. I just… miss school, that's all."
"Yes, I'm sure you miss school. I really hope that you'll get better soon, Ishida-kun! Our club is falling into pieces without its president!"
"I'll try my best to be back."
That was the best he could do. Just try his best.
"Okay! We'll be waiting for you! Take care," she ended. He then heard the steady rhythm of "tut tut", meaning that the call he had made had been disconnected as she put the phone down. It could be his last call to her. He did not know. Was he being over dramatic by the way? He had not been sure if he had cancer and already he was acting like he does. But he did not want to take the risk.
"Hello?"
"Kurosaki Clinic, state your name, identity card number and time for appointment, if you have one."
"Kurosaki?"
"Huh, who are – Ishida?"
The irritation embossed in his words made Ichigo the most recognizable personality on phone. He wondered if Ichigo would speak like this, so arrogantly, if he told him he was running out of time.
"Yo, what do you want?"
"I – err…"
"This isn't a call for fun, is it? Phone bill doesn't come cheap you know."
"I –"
"Are you calling from your dad's house?"
"I – what? Yes, I'm still staying with him."
"When are you going back to school? It has been ages!"
"Yes, I know. I wonder too."
Ichigo stopped speaking. Even his breath could not be heard through the earpiece.
"You sure you're all right?"
"I don't – what?"
Uryū distantly heard the scrapping of a chair from the other side of the call.
"You're not going anywhere right? Good, 'cause we're coming over for a visit. Chad and Inoue too."
"No, you don't have to. I'm seriously fine here."
"Well you don't sound like you are. Ishida, you can lie but you can't lie to a liar. I know when you're telling crappy lies."
Uryū rose up from his seat. It gave him some control over his temper. It was not hovering at the brink of anger, but he could not help feeling irritated at his friend's insistence to come over. When he said no, he meant no. End of story.
"I said it's totally fine, Kurosaki. Listen, my father isn't back anyway. And – and I don't have the keys."
That should be plausible. He guessed…
"What, you mean he went to work and lock you up in your room?"
"Not in my room but –"
"Whatever. We're climbing over the gate."
Uryū raised a brow. It seemed that Ichigo could almost "see" his reaction since the rash teen suggested no more lowly methods of forcing entry into the Ishida residence. Again, he knew there would come a time when he could no longer see and condemn Ichigo for his insane actions and stupidity.
"Well, I'll see you later, Kurosaki."
"Yeah, sure. Take care, Ishida."
He lowered the receiver.
He would miss all of them.
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Night fell and a curtain of velvety red draped solemnly over the sky. It was pristine at dusk, particularly when lesser cars traveled the road in front of the mansion but it submerged the whole area in near deafness. No sounds, no noises. It was already oddly quiet within the barricades of what he called "home", so Uryū did not find this lack of disturbance enjoyable. He felt hollow in, out and around. Restless, yes, that would be the precise word. He was being restless. He really hoped Ryūken would break the news now. He did not want to wait. The unaddressed fact was undeniable. If he had cancer, he would take it like a man.
Did his father think he would cry and hide under the bed when he was told of the truth?
Uryū traipsed down the stairs and leaned against the cool surface of the white wall. He stood silently right beside the arch leading to the hall; his father was watching the news on the television. He had gone up to his room after dinner because he thought he wanted to be alone. Then he felt somewhat friendless up there that he decided to come down for some company, only to realise that the sole company he had here was Ryūken.
Of course, who else did he expect to meet?
Uryū shifted his weight from a leg to another, constantly wishing for some guts to confront the doctor of his condition. Ah, doctor. A doctor should tell his patient the truth, even if it was least consoling. Ryūken would break a doctor's integrity by concealing things from him.
Or maybe he was holding back information for the sake of being Uryū's father, and not a doctor?
"You can come and sit in the hall. This is your home after all."
Uryū started by the piercing invitation. His feet shuffled tentatively to the hall but he stayed put at the arch. The older man cast a quick glance at his son before presenting his attention to the TV… or he appeared to be. He was not unfazed by the gory graphics of an accident occurred at a highway some states away.
"Do you have something to ask of me?" Ryūken decided to take the initiative.
Uryū's restlessness doubled.
"I – I wanted to know…"
He left it suspended midair.
Curse him for chickening out this time. Everything was only a question away. If Ryūken knew, he would have to tell him. Patients have right to know of their health. If he demanded for it, he would get it. Was that not what he had wanted?
To know the brutal truth of this ridiculous suffering he was endowed with?
"Know what?"
Damn…
"Of my condition."
Ryūken switched the TV off.
"What did you say?"
The boy took one brief breath before pronouncing everything more clearly than before, "Of my condition. I want to know what's happening to me."
His father spared him one sweeping look. He hungered for this attention ever since he was a toddler but he never got it. Not even once. Now that he finally had one, he found himself failing to appreciate it. Ryūken crumpled the piece of paper he was reading in front of the news and stood on the carpet.
"The report isn't out yet. You'll have to wait."
He said them so languidly as though he did not care a single bit.
"Then what is your opinion on this?"
"My opinion?"
Did he have to rub it in? Yes, he was finally asking consultation from his father. Humiliating, was it not? Hopefully this would be the last time he had to trample on his pride and ask this man of his view on something… but he would get his wish…
It only hit him that if what he thought was true, he was not going to see Ryūken anymore.
"What do you want to hear from me, Uryū? You won't be assured even if I say everything is going on fine. You must have a rough idea of –"
Ryūken froze by the wastebasket in the hall.
Uryū looked up to see what had stopped his father from talking. When he saw the man staring down the content of the wastebasket, he gaped. He had forgotten! He had wholly forgotten to empty the bin! He did not want anybody to know of this so badly but it was his father who spotted it first, and it was all due to his carelessness!
Exactly half an hour before Ryūken returned, the nausea made an ugly comeback. He had not the time to dash to the toilet that he vomited right on the spot in the hall. And that was when he had the shock of his life.
Blood.
He was used to throwing up disgusting tarry substances. Bright crimson liquid was never on his mind. He remembered Ryūken mentioning something about "digested blood", but to see fresh one on the floor was something he was not prepared for. Wanting to destroy "evidences", he ignored the pain and seized the mop and a pail of water from the bathroom (Ryūken said, "Just in case.") and started labouring under the air conditioner. The coffee table had flecks of blood on the legs and Uryū made quick work of them with tissue paper. After returning all the cleaning instruments back to their respective places, he made for the bin. He could not leave the tissue in the hall like that, could he? But his stomach decided that its owner had to stop moving and distorted in every angle possible that he had to make his way to the cupboard for a hot pack instead. Of course, by the time he collapsed to the floor with the pack on his stomach, all thoughts of used tissue were discarded from his mind.
How foolish of him.
Ryūken approached his son.
"When did it happen?"
"I – I hurt myself in the bathroom."
"Don't lie to me, Uryū!"
Ichigo was right after all. He was even lesser than a mediocre liar.
Ryūken wrung the boy's arm, forcing the latter to look at him in the eye.
"Tell me when it happened!"
Uryū studied his father's face. Anger and frustration were all swirling in one. So his father had provided him with all he needed to know.
"It's true then?"
Ryūken lowered his hand.
"What are you talking about?"
"I thought – it doesn't matter."
Slowly, he turned his heels and headed for the stairs the second time this evening.
"Goodnight."
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"Shh, get back behind the tree and don't come out until I say so."
"But –"
"Listen to me, Uryū. Go, before it's too late. Go!"
"No! I want to stay –"
"Don't be stubborn. Do you want to disobey your Grandfather?"
The child stopped yanking the white sleeves of his beloved relative. He clenched tighter at the cuff, not willing to let the man go. He had heard the earsplitting howls and he knew very well what was coming for them. Sōken had pushed the boy behind a rainforest tree but the latter just would not stay there.
How could he?
"I'll be fine, Uryū. Do you remember what we had pledged to each other?"
'One day, Uryū would be able to battle as a fearless Quincy, a warrior undaunted by blood… and death.'
The boy distanced himself away a bit. Slowly, he raised his head up and looked at his grandfather.
"Make sure you make it quick, Grandfather."
"Of course, Uryū."
And Sōken winked. The boy looked on as the man trod on dried twigs into the clearing. Sōken went out there with his head held high to meet his adversaries. And for some reasons, tears welled in his sapphire eyes.
NO!
It was scorched into his mind frame… but the grotesque scene of his grandfather's remains was mysteriously vague. He knew what had happened yet he failed to summon the memories as two shinigami clad in black arrived at the hellish location. He could only stand… and wait…
… and wait…
… and wait for his father to come lift him up and take him away.
Grandfather had promised to be quick and come back.
Grandfather, you lied.
It was only four hours right after he had wished his father goodnight.
Uryū woke up sweating, excessively indeed until his pajamas were drenched with them. Darkness outside told him it was not time to get up yet. His father should be still asleep in his room. He did not want to bother that man. So he turned to his side, squashed the pillow above his head and kept his lips pursed tight to shut whatever gasps and cries which might just come out.
Pain showed up for another dawn visit again.
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The sky was crying. Maybe it was lamenting the hazy yet distinctive future of a certain bespectacled boy, sitting by the drain in his father's backyard. The shelter above his head was zinc; it drummed so loudly as continuous droplets of rain splattered onto the surface. But he was the least bothered of the din. He thought that suddenly, everything in between heavens and hells seemed downright petty and meaningless and… worthless. But no matter how petty, meaningless and worthless they might be, they would still be here, filling the future whilst he was already long gone. His eyes ran over the gray clouds, still black and heavy, showering the earth until there was no more water vapour to condense and spill onto Karakura.
In a snap of a finger, his unexpected stay had expanded to a fortnight or so. And so many secrets and planning he had never known existed were suddenly displayed before his unbelieving face.
Why then?
He thought he was never a part of his father's every second, minute and hour. He assumed the man had simply wanted to bleach the disgraceful name "Ishida Uryū" from his memory.
But Ryūken had not, did not.
Well, those did not really matter did they? It could be tonight… it could be tomorrow. It could even be now. The inevitable was going to claim him. He had not expected his father to understand, or rather, he did not want his father to understand how he was coping with his days all these while. Not only in the sense of emotion, but physical as well.
From the instant he woke up, he had to endure whatever horrific plans his guts had set for him, be it an excruciating stretching of the raw lining of his organ or the grating sensation on the inflamed layers. So often he had to bite his lips and grit his teeth to keep him from screaming his throat off.
Yet he must not.
And then there was his father.
To sum it all, he was confused. He was not sure whether to be thankful or bothered at his father who was returning home as early as four in the evening for five days consecutively. He knew the man meant well, but after what concealed information he had unraveled, he was just confused, plainly confused. His disgust for Ryūken's sordid decisions years ago had dwindled, yet his respect to a parent had not rekindled even. He was lost.
Exactly what Sōken had meant? That one day, he would understand the true intention of the callous entity he once called Father. Sōken said Ryūken had discovered his precious and was doing all he could to protect it. And someday, he, Uryū, would find it and defend for it too. Could he understand now? Already his days were numbered, and the one foggy riddle of his life was hanging unanswered.
What was it that both Ryūken and Uryū must protect?
He brought a knee up and rested his elbow on it – his palm was flattened on his clammy forehead, keeping the billowing fringes out of his sight. The other hand was cradling his stomach. It had fused with him. There was no switch to turn it off. Since day one when he had the pain in school right up to now, watching the rain, there was no respite. They only differ in intensity.
Sometimes they were dull and dismissible.
The rest put him in inferno.
He had gotten sick of this.
Unfortunately, he just had to learn it the hard way that drowsiness and fatigue came in the same package with gastritis. Though in his case, it was no longer gastritis… his father knew. Uryū was waiting for confirmation. Maybe during dinner, the news would be finally unfolded.
Drizzle was nice. He had always love drizzles in the evening. Then if he was lucky, a rainbow arch would brighten up the sky, relieving it from the terrible downpour it had just witnessed. How could he not like the rain? His given name, although pronounced and meant differently, has the word "rain".
He wanted to lie down.
Light headedly, he lifted his bottom from the cemented ground and traipsed back to the house, to warmth. He was chilly through and through. He was quite positive that the maid had left when he decided to come here for fresh air, so the abode must be pretty empty save for him occupying it.
Subconsciously, he raised his left hand and held it against the wall, using the rough façade as a means of guidance – he was not seeing well. Every single accursed step was taxing, but he could no longer complain.
It was happening again.
Before he could arrange his body properly in a sitting position, his legs shook, sending him tumbling over headfirst. Again, he had gotten accustomed to this. In a second, his body would collide with the hard floor before everything went "pop" like a burnt out light bulb.
But it did not.
The side of his head knocked gently into something angular. It was moving. Battling to stay awake for a fraction longer, he blinked and thought it was that man's shoulder that had caught him in time.
That figure sank to a knee, bringing the boy down with him. Uryū, resignedly, gripped the upper arm of the other entity as his temple found a niche to rest in the familiar dimple in the clavicle. He could not explain why this calmed his furiously palpitating heart.
And he smiled.
When Mother died and he felt sad, he would always run to Father, cheeks damp with tears, and hugged Father as his little form was enveloped in Father's embrace. It always reassured him that he was not alone.
And if this was it, he was glad that his father was here with him.
Ryūken closed an arm over the child's back, making sure the weakened form was leaning completely against him. He had to wait.
"I… just want this to end."
The voice slipped. There was a slight tilt of the boy's head on him when the child's cold hand slid downwards his arm.
Briskly, Ryūken swung the body into his arms and strode over to the car which engine was left running. Placing the boy gingerly in the front passenger seat, he strode over to the driver's. This way, he could keep close check on his son and the road simultaneously. He had sworn that by hook or by crook, if the child's condition did not pick up, he would drag him personally to the hospital. And this was exactly what he was doing, because he would never let this be the end.
