Ch 7. Things We Need Not Say
AN: Beware of (discreet) manga spoilers!
The snow had come too early and thus abandoned them, without remorse. It left no vestige aside from the glimmer on the streets. One would have supposed it rained the nights previous and nothing more. The air is warmer, erasing proof that winter had ever landed in the middle of autumn. Corpulent clouds now loom over Karakura to appropriately mark the continuation of the rainy season.
Ichigo looks at those clouds. He has a hard time looking at her.
It's been three days (two since he's awaken) and they've only spoken of the surface things.
Does his chest still hurt? Do his sides still ache? Rukia hones these questions repeatedly and frets over the heavy bandages occupying his body. She doesn't stop until he pointedly asks when she's become such a worrywart.
Ichigo hears Rukia take a small step back. When he looks at her through the corner of his eyes he sees that her hands have resigned to her sides. Feeling immediate guilt he mutters, "It's your health." He coughs out the rest. "That's what's important right now."
To the windows she goes without a word, wearing that distant look on her face again. He watches in helplessness as her tiny fingers skim over the glassy surface. Within his own digits, he feels the compulsion to brush away the strings of raven hair falling over her eyes. Finding himself unable to act out on those urges, he clutches the bed sheets beneath him instead.
For practical reasons his old man has him recuperating downstairs in the family clinic. He occupies a corner space, a section divided from the rest of the facility by curtains. The extent of his privacy comes down to sheer, white fabric. His own home or even his old bedroom above would have been preferable, but a person with fractured ribs and gashes all over doesn't really have much of a voice now, does he?
Alone for once, thankfully, there is no better opportunity than now to explain the injuries. Rukia won't ask him herself. That first night he gained consciousness Yuzu had been the one to blurt out the questions. "Where did all these come from? They put you out for two nights and one day! Why won't you say something, Onii-chan? In fact, why does nobody say anything?" His dad cleared his throat then. Karin continued changing the bandages on his arms.
He could still feel Yuzu's eyes on him, awaiting his answer, even after the long moment of silence; but he couldn't pry his own eyes off of Rukia. She had stood at the far window, gazing out like she heard nothing and everything at the same time.
Rukia hadn't asked. Rukia won't ask.
Watching her now, he realizes he's seeing the same profile, and is well acquainted with those feathered movement of lashes; the black wisps rise and fall, fanning ever so gently over intense blue eyes.
His mind wanders, follows his gaze to her angular chin and traces the downward curving line of mouth; it travels with the locks of jet black hair bending along her jaw line, tapering off at the ends, and the pale neck contrasting below it.
The v-shape cut into the collar of her dress exposes an entire slope of neck, and smooth, pink flesh contouring gracefully over soft strokes of collarbone. Like a sheet of silk, her dress nestles on delicate shoulders and ripples south along her slender figure. It's his favorite one on Rukia because the color compliments her well. In light yellow it reminds him of sunlight paling down silver at the end of the day. He's even catalogued it into his brain as such. Rukia would laugh at such romantic of a notion if she knew, so he probably won't ever tell her about that.
No doubt she has yet to fathom his affinity for poetics. He remembers the day they boxed things up for their first new house together, of her thumbing through his dusty collection of sonnets and plays. She offered her opinion on how illustrated books are far more superior to ones with only lines of black and white text. He then retorted that someone who draws (very crudely by the way) bunnies on waffles with maple syrup could learn a thing or two from Shakespeare. His input got rejected. Her stomping on his foot positively confirmed it. That was the end of that.
His view now descends to her belly, which he imagines will swell into a lovely shape before spring—
"What were you thinking?" asks Rukia, cutting off any chances for further digressions.
His attempting to answer her blunt and sudden inquiry becomes something like gasping for air. Breathing, speaking—he is dismayed at struggling for such easy things, things done so simply in normal day to day life.
"I was thinking…" he trails while studying her belly still. "Too much." Yes. He had been thinking too much.
"How many more times will you be reckless like that?" Her voice takes on an austerity that reminds him of the past. "We'll sever our ties today," she used to insist in that bleak tone of hers, "since we can't move forward, can't step back."
"It wasn't something that could be helped," he answers, dropping his gaze onto his torso where white strips overlap each other intricately. He remembers how he'd try to kiss her before she can even finish her sentence. So after pulling away she'd say, "A relationship between a mortal and Shinigami will never amount to anything." Quite often she said those kinds of things with her back turned to him. "We can't meet up like this anymore," she would emphasize with finality. But it never mattered then; he always persisted in bargaining with her on the terms, anything to extend the time on their expiring relationship. It always went something like that.
"So you'll go off without a word whenever it can't be helped? Just like that time?" she asks him in the present time. Facing her is inevitable so he shifts up to find sapphire eyes studying his visage. Renji couldn't have been more wrong. They're penetrating eyes, incapable of dullness. "Training…strengthening your resolve…it was something you needed to do back then. I learned to understand it. But still…Yuzu cried for days."
"Rukia..." His throat feels tight and it remains hard to breathe.
Before he knows it she's arrived at his bedside. The bed emits a muffled creak against the bend of her knee. He feels her fists thrust awkwardly below his throat. Had he worn a shirt she would be clutching the collar. It's painful when her forehead presses onto his chest, but he'll bear it if she needs him to. "You come back like this—all torn up." Not knowing what else to do, Ichigo strokes the length of her black locks with a clumsy hand. "Ichigo, you idiot. You're all torn up again," is a mixture of warmth and breath on his bare skin.
"Ah, I know," he whispers against her hair, feeling Rukia's exertion not to tremble against his body. "You can cry if you want."
"Fool," she sputters between stifled quivers, "who wants to cry over you?" But she clutches onto him tighter when her body loses the fight. He simply holds her.
Ichigo has no idea how long they stay like that for, whether in hours or in minutes. It is out of whim when he breaks the silence. "Rukia, do you still see them?" He pauses meaningfully. "Hollows."
"Like blurs," Rukia answers without hesitation. She lifts her head and faces him wide-eyed. "But I can see Renji clearly."
"Oh." Somehow it makes sense—and doesn't. He looks out the window. "Any regrets?"
"Not for what I've chosen," she replies. "Though my goodbyes could have been better," she adds with a bitter laugh.
"Can't you say your goodbyes again? Redo them?" he asks, now searching her face, yet somehow feeling bare himself.
Rukia contemplates the question, looks back into his eyes meaningfully. "Then it would become too final." He half gets it and half doesn't, which is probably something Rukia could've guessed herself, though she doesn't find it necessary to elaborate.
They say nothing more of their private battles.
She is still in his arms, so he keeps holding her.
For now, some things are okay left unsaid.
Things We Don't See Around Us—Interlude
Rukia is still in his arms, so he keeps holding her—buuuut this is Ichigo's life after all. Rude interruptions of his warmest moments are never surprising. Could almost be expected even.
"SHTOOPIDPHWROOTWHAPHABYOODUNTOMEEFAN?"
When Ichigo hears that absurdly familiar screech coming from behind them, he freezes. In fact, Rukia too turns petrified as stone next to him.
Only, it is Karin who steps in from the other side of the curtains.
Still, there's something very wrong with the picture here. Wearing a scowl that could rival his own, Karin produces a pink object from her knapsack and holds it out in front of her disdainfully. It immediately wiggles out of her clutch and head dives for the bed to give Ichigo a nice, sharp kick to the face, complete with squeaky sounds.
"STUPID FRUIT, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO NEE-SAN?"
"The hell is this?" He grabs a fistful of it, and notes while leaning in, a pair of black, marble-like eyes gleaming back at him. In a matter of seconds his eyes construct long floppy ears characteristic of a rabbit in addition to two front limbs, and two hind legs. For a belly it has a pooch. "A talking—"
"Plush bunny!" Rukia practically shrieks.
Swinging its hind legs, the small sized doll is able to achieve momentum and free itself, its choice of destination apparently Rukia's arms. "Nee-san!"
From behind Ichigo snatches it before it can reach her. "Don't tell me…" He spins the toy around to face him. "Kon?"
"Let me go! I have no time to play with you! I need to be embraced by Nee-san's newly developed bosom!" Attempting to loosen his ears from Ichigo's grip, the doll, now identified as Kon, thrashes wildly like a frenzy of pink. It requires a sudden whack on the head from Ichigo for his plush body to finally slump down to the bed.
While keeping one of the ears pinned down to the bed, Ichigo gives his younger sister a puzzled look. "Karin, where d'ya find him?"
"He just followed me home." His teenage sister shrugs her shoulders as if to illustrate her indifference.
"Kon," sighs Ichigo. Finding the ears ridiculous, Ichigo flicks the unpinned one with his fingers. "Should I even ask?"
"How rude! It's all for Nee-san," Kon spurts. "Nee-san, I devote my new rabbit form to you."
"No thanks. I pass." Rukia holds up a hand with palm facing out to demonstrate her refusal.
"What are you saying, Nee-san? After I've come all this way!"
And turning an inquisitive brow on the mod-soul, Ichigo asks "What are you doing here, Kon? Aren't you supposed to be traveling with Urahara-san?"
"Huh?" asks Kon, finally done with thrashing and deciding to give Ichigo the full attention of his beady eyes. "Yeah. We're only making a quick stop here."
"Urahara-san is back? And Yoruichi-san too?" Suddenly remembering the old days causes Ichigo's heart to beat excitedly.
"Naturally." Kon says between a yawn. Ichigo can't help but deliver another smack down on top of Kon's head. "Arggggh! You bastard, what was that for?"
"For your attitude," Ichigo supplies.
"Geez. You still have a brain the size—oh, that's right!" The pesky thing is back on its feet again, rudely standing on Ichigo chest and jabbing its paw at his nose. "You lecherous wolf! How dare you get Nee-san knocked up! You forced yourself on her, didn't you?"
"Y-you-you!" Dear God he feels his insides twisting up again.
"Wanna be exterminated, Modsoul?" Rukia threatens, no hint of blushing whatsoever.
"No," Kon squeaks and covers his mouth like he doesn't trust what else may come out of it. "I'll be good now, Nee-san," is squeezed out in a terrified whisper.
"Get a hold of yourself, Ichi-Nii. You're as bright as a tomato."
"S-shut up," Ichigo musters between hacking and coughing.
"Anyhow," says Rukia, easily concluding the subject of lewd acts and whatnot. The one hundred plus years she has on her husband helps oftentimes. "Are Urahara and everybody else doing well?"
"Neeee-san. You dooo care about me after all. So much happened..." Whatever Kon begins to ramble about loses importance to the sound of the front door opening.
"Onii-chan! I brought dinner from the deli." Ichigo, Rukia, and Karin—all exchange horrified looks with one another. Yuzu!
"Quick, Karin!" Ichigo wheezes. Not long after he calls out to Karin, he feels his heart leap through his chest as the stretch of curtains is yanked open and his other sister appears before them in a moderate, plaid dress. Luckily Karin manages to stuff Kon back into her knapsack just before he can be discovered.
Yuzu blinks a couple of times in an effort to shake off her confusion. "Eh? Everyone is here."
Rukia, the first to react, immediately leaps for the plastic bags in Yuzu's hands. "I'll help you with these, Yuzu-chan."
Roused from her partial stupor she replies, "Uh, thanks. Rukia-chan," but by then Rukia, who almost looks disappointed when she finds the inside contents of the grocery bags to be mostly filled with vegetables, isn't listening. "Onii-chan," she addresses Ichigo, "dad said this morning that it's safe for you to move out of bed. As long as you do it carefully. I'll help get you to the dining room so you can eat with everybody else."
"Ah. Fine," he manages to say without sounding nervous.
"And—" Yuzu tries to begin.
"Ooomffrm"
"Eh? Karin-chan? Your bag just made a funny sound."
"No it didn't"
"Yes it—" Karin pushing Yuzu forward cuts her off once again.
"Soooo huungry." Groans the dark-haired twin, ignoring the other's bewildered expression. "Hope dad doesn't take too long to get back."
Fortunately, Yuzu is easily distracted. "Hm? Shouldn't be too long. He told me he'll be home soon over the phone."
"Like he ever means what he says," Karin retorts, rolling her eyes the way only teenagers know how.
"Nii-chan, don't you dare try to move on your own," admonishes Yuzu from over her shoulder.
"I'm hungry, Yuzu."
"Be a little patient Karin-chan." Casting another look his way, Yuzu finishes, "I'll be back to help you up once I put everything away."
"Ah. That—that's great." He sees the peculiar look Yuzu returns him. Probably to save him again from being grilled with questions, Karin pushes their sister through the door with her.
"Henry?"
"No."
"Georg—"
"No."
"But—"
"No."
"Bu—"
"NO!"
His father plops himself on the edge of the bed. He crosses his legs and tugs at his chin in comical seriousness. "So a Japanese name then?"
"N—yes, Japanese. WHICH I WILL PICK."
"Wait! Don't I have rights as the grandfather?"
"Rights my foot." Out of boredom and annoyance, Ichigo taps his face with bandaged fingers. Beyond the room's windowpanes he sees the stout clouds from yesterday have thinned out to feathers whisking across the expansive sky. "You already had your fun with my name. Like I'd let you do that to my own kid."
"What?" His father wedges his face between Ichigo and his scenery, replacing the calming view with his dumb expression. "You dare insult the name your mother and I so lovingly chose for you?" he half pouts half growls. "How ungrateful!"
"Would you both shut your traps already?" Kon's pink head can be seen peering over an untucked table drawer. "Why aren't we leaving yet?"
Ichigo's old man plants his rear back on the bed. He jerks a thumb over in Kon's direction. "Still can't get used to that."
"No kidding." Ichigo scowls at Isshin as best as he can, knowing he can't guilt but—maybe, just maybe—can burn his father with acrid looks. "You've only seen him like this since he got here yesterday. Try thinking your old man's a regular idiot for 16 years and then finding out he's just a good liar. Or maybe both. Anyway, try getting used to that."
"Well, shoulda figured that black always did look better on me than white." He spreads his arms out above his head, before he folds them behind and yawns out the remainder of his response. "Anyhow ya live and learn, kid."
Their exchanges of wisdom comes to a halt when, "Keep it down you morons! Yuzu might hear us," is hissed at them. Karin appears a few steps ahead of Rukia.
"You got everything, Rukia?" Ichigo shouts atop Kon's wailing, "Don't group me with those demented two!" and his father's "Karin-chan, you're such a meanie!"
Rukia barely nods at him with her eyes glued on Karin deadpanning Kon.
"When I said moron, I was mostly referring to you," Karin shoots to the doll hanging over the side of the drawer.
"Sheesh. Shouldn't you be in a better mood? I thought girls your age are supposed to be glowing after their fir—oomphfff!" For whatever Kon is about to blab, Karin seems to find it necessary to yank him out of the drawer and stuff him into the backpack. She also makes sure to zip it all the way down.
"What is this about ab—" Ichigo ditches the last words like deadweights when he sees Karin give the bag a good thump against the wall.
"NOTHING," barks Karin over Kon's muffled screaming. She smiles a fake smile, the kind that shows all her teeth, effectively sending chills up big bro's spine. "Here's your bag Ichi-nii."
Karin is practically at the door when his hands touch the straps. It makes him wonder if the number of Kurosaki members who now know how to Shyunpo are up to three. "I'm off," she announces before anyone else can squeeze in another word, leaving them to stare after her with nearly gaping mouths.
Yuzu—dubbed the innocent one of the family—finds them still spacing out at the door when she enters the clinic from the other side. "Karin-chan? Where is Karin-chan? She left her books here. Eh? Did she leave for study group already?"
Her query may as well been directed at a wall. "Very suspicious," Rukia, Ichigo and Isshin decide in unison.
"Otou-san? Nii-chan?" Poor little Yuzu's head bobs back and forth from trying to decipher each of their expressions, like a mother bird frantically choosing which chick to feed her last worm to. "Rukia-chan, what's suspicious?"
Per usual his nutcase of a father breaks into a theatrical performance. "Karin-chan is out kissing boys behind daddy's back!" he cries amidst artificial tears and sobs.
"Otou-san! How did ever you get that idea? Please stop crying!"
At this point Ichigo decides to give telepathic communication a shot. And with luck on his side for once, Rukia returns his precarious look with a nod. She manages to spit, "Thanksfortakingcareofus," before Ichigo whisks her out the door mid-bow.
A block away from the clinic Kon manages to unzip himself from the knapsack on Rukia's back. Sticking his head out he begins firing complaints. "Damn your sister, Ichigo! Why'd she have to be such a brute?"
"So why are we letting Kon stay with us again?" asks Ichigo, completely ignoring Kon's whine. For whatever reason though, he can't remove his eyes off of Kon who is straightening out the wrinkles on his lengthy ear.
Rukia pauses in the middle of the sidewalk and crosses her arms. "I figured Urahara might need a break," she says thoughtfully.
"Ah. True," Ichigo concurs, crossing his arms too, but carefully (everything still hurts). "Anyone stuck with this guy for three years straight would definitely need a break." He directs his next words at imitational Chappy. "So Kon. Do you know what's up with Karin?"
"Huh—wha?" Kon mutters, still preoccupied with straightening his ears. "You're asking me about your own sister? Haven't you been paying attention?"
"You gonna answer the question or not?" He furrows his orange brows at the unpleasant thought of having this loudmouth around for a few more days.
"Pft. You're so dense I'm not gonna even bother explaining to you. Go to the big playground and you can see for yourself."
Can the bastard be any more vague? "Big playground? Which one?" Ichigo asks through teeth.
"The one with all the cheery trees."
"The viewing spot, Kon?"
"Yeah. That one."
"What is it we're going to see?"
"You'll see."
Ichigo feels a muscle convulse. "Like I said---ah forget it! Okay, let's go then."
"Wait, Ichigo," Rukia yells. Ichigo has already gained a few steps away from where they stood just moments ago. "Are you sure we should be spying?"
He looks at his wife like she's crazy. "Not considered spying 'til you know what it is you're spying for. Well, you coming or what?" He doesn't even wait for her answer before he hurries off.
Rukia frowns at his retreating back. "Only an idiot could reason like that," and she takes off after him nevertheless.
Orange burns at the distant horizon. A sea of barren branches spread out below, its skeletal arms reaching towards the fiery skyline. The three stop behind the big slide (essentially metal and plastic slapped together), and peer out to the plot of cheery trees thickly bordering the park's edges. It takes awhile for him to spot them sitting amongst the rows of stark brown trees, but when he does he realizes how the last few years must have passed as easily as the blink of an eye.
What did he miss while he had his head turned?
"So the boy is," he hears Rukia say, a hint of understanding sinking into her voice. He can feel her turning a furtive gaze towards him.
"Not a boy at all," he finishes his wife's thought.
Karin's hair has grown longer, hitting a little past the shoulders; she's gotten farther from looking like a tomboy. He hadn't noticed till now. Karin probably wants it that way. She'll never admit to caring about her appearance like the other girls in her class do.
"That really is Chad," Ichigo finally adds to the thought.
For this scenario to come up as an astonishment—has he been looking the other way for too long?
"Pffft. They're just sitting there...what kind of date is that?" interjects Kon.
"Karin appears to be drawing him." Rukia says it in the manner of a person trying to console another.
It's true that the two are only sitting there. But there is more than just his younger sister—her fifteen years of age more jarringly obvious now—sketching a picture of his good, longtime friend. The glances Karin casts Chad's way are too apprehensive for the fear of drawing him poorly in her sketch. Even Chad seems to be stealing glances when he thinks Karin isn't looking. Ichigo realizes he won't be able to see Karin as the same kid sister again—the one whose words are always truthful beneath the bite.
Feeling like he's been tricked, Ichigo shoots Kon a look that could hopefully kill. The mod soul looks back uninterested. Damn.
"Walk into walls much?" comments Kon, who busies himself again in examining his generous span of ears against the paling light. "Pfft. If you're surprised by this then you're really not much of an older brother. Pay more attention to those around you, why don't ya?"
"I'll turn you into a scarecrow if you say any more."
Chad is a mass of gentleness and strength sitting on a bed of russet leaves two meters away from Karin's bench.
Karin's still built like a twig.
No matter how hard he looks at them, they just don't seem to match up at all. Together they look as awkward as a tiger and mouse.
But he knows those are insignificant details. No more significant than a human falling in love with a Shinigami.
He stands by watching till daylight grows lower and slanted. He hears his wife stirring beside him and decides that he's done pondering the things he's unprepared to ponder. "It's getting late," he nudges.
"So we'll leave things like this then?" She's smiling in a way that tells him she already knows the answer.
"Ah."
"We're leaving already? What about…" He ignores the rest of Kon's yammering and casts Karin and Chad one last look before turning around.
From the bottom of his heart he gives them the fullest of his blessings.
Isshin takes the last drag of his cigarette before snuffing it out beneath his perfectly polished shoe. True, he quit smoking years ago but hey, what the hell. For all the brain cells he's been busting—damn that pain-in-the-ass firstborn—he's entitled a break every now and then.
Besides, there's a bad taste in his mouth he can't get rid of. Blame it on the increasing amount of vacant staring his orange-headed son has been doing these past few months. The way he's seen Rukia-chan lose sleep over his son's stitched up body doesn't help much either.
"The problem with you kids is you keep second guessing yourselves," exhales Isshin with the final puff. "Too high-strung for your own good sometimes."
He turns back to the house, but only to find himself thinking about Karin before he reaches the door.
Karin.
He's not ready to worry about her falling in love yet, though there's probably not much he can do about it now. Except maybe annoy her some more.
Ah, hell. Why not? Isshin fishes the cigarette pack back out of his coat pocket.
Having two troublesome brats—he deserves at least another smoke.
Lighting the end of the stick, he thanks god at least the third kid's an easy one.
End Chapter Seven
AN: I don't think writers are ever happy with their stuff. At least that's the feeling I'm getting now. Particularly the sections laden with dialogue. It reads too much like a script. God knows how many different drafts I've done already for this. Who knows, maybe in a week I'll completely revise this chapter again. It always reads differently with time, doesn't it?
Hopefully there won't be as long as an absence for the next update, though I can't promise that it'll be posted soon. Part of the next chapter has been written out, though not much. It features a certain noble Kuchiki and should get back on track with the story (unlike this one which I consider an interlude). Until then, cheers and thanks as always!
---Jun 4, 2006
---June 15, 2006 Reposted
