572 and One
CHAPTER NINE
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Living with guilt wasn't the easiest thing to do. Not even easy. Living with guilt was the hardest thing to do. Especially when there would never be a chance to make amendments, to make up to the person one had done wrong to.
Guilt.
It echoed in one's mind and body. It reverberated through one's heart and soul.
Guilt.
A terribly horrible thing to live with. It dragged one down. It stopped one from forgiving oneself. It stopped one from moving on.
Guilt.
How does one live with it? A voice resonated from deep within her.
That small flare of initial pain swelled in her chest. It enlarged then engulfed her entire body in anguish.
It crippled her.
Head between her knees, she inhaled deeply trying get air into her air deprived lungs. Able to breathe again but the feeling of loss remained.
Loss of direction.
Loss of love.
She slid down from her bed and curled up in a ball on the floor. As if that position could block out the pain and memories from the past. As if that position would ease the crushing agony and grief from recent loss.
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"Aren't you surprised?" asked Ichigo from the doorway.
With her eyes, she took a quick look at the room. It was his and hers. For six short months. The bedroom was still the same, painted in First Blush. Her mother-in-law had wanted to paint pink saying pink was good for married couples in accordance with feng shui. But pink would have been too much for her husband, she'd chosen First Blush.
He breathed out as he sat down taking her with him. She stilled. Sitting there on their marriage bed brought back memories. And one of them she'd buried in the abyss of her soul. She'd tried to forget and nearly succeeded. She'd almost forgotten her trying to bury that memory, to forget until her parents-in-law had practically shooed them up the stairs after their tearful impromptu reunion commanding them to rest.
Finally able to pull herself back together, she turned to him but couldn't keep eye contact. She was a coward still. "About what?"
"Mom and Dad disappeared that fast." He caught himself. "No, I meant to say that they retreated so quickly and left us in peace."
"Now that's surprising."
"Wondering if the little girl was stalling for time." He said, eyeing the well-kept room, acting like he was searching for the lost girl. "The girl who I thought wouldn't be scared of anyone."
"I'm not scared of you." Darn. She'd just admitted being scared. Although what she'd said was true, she wasn't scared of him. Not ever. She grabbed on the other branch before sinking any further. "Why would she be stalling for time?"
"Dunno." A shrug of shoulders and a smile hovering on his lips. "Maybe she was afraid of what lies ahead tonight?"
That smile calmed her somewhat but still... she swallowed the lump in her throat. He was only half right. She was afraid of what lay ahead but not of the what he had in mind. "I have a confession to make." She knew it was sudden but there was no way around it. The longer she hid the truth the more damage it would cause. "But you need to be calm."
She was afraid to tell the secret she'd been keeping from him. From almost everyone. How would one wife approach her husband and tell him that she'd borne but lost his baby that he hadn't known about?
"I'm calm," said her husband. "Very as a matter of fact."
She doubt that was true. His eyes were on alert and all worried. Her poor husband. Their poor baby. She'd considered taking her secret to the grave, but it wouldn't be fair to him. Or to their child. Looking at him, her heart ached for the life lost but more for the father. He would have been a great dad doting on his little girl. He'd been wonderful with Sakura. There had been moments she'd wished Sakura had been theirs seeing how natural the pair had been around each other. That was just wistful thinking.
Wistful and illogical. Their little girl had long been dead. The doctor had said she'd given birth to a stillborn. Their little girl hadn't even seen this world or her immature mom for even a millisecond. Painful of all, she hadn't had the chance to see their little girl, to hold her and tell her how much she'd been loved. That her father would have been over the moon if he'd known of her existence no matter how short her presence had been.
Her eyes and throat burned. Her limbs numbed. Her heart ached with renewed pain, it slivered and crushed her insides.
"Ichigo."
She called out to him. From deep down. Yet she was unable to form words. Nor found the last shred of courage to face her savior. Yes, he was her savior. She had no idea when she'd have gone under if they hadn't been reunited. Her tormented soul had been crying out for the ending of its torture. It'd wanted to be set free. Free from loneliness and hopelessness. Liberated from regret and guilt.
Guilt.
It tasted so dear yet distasteful at the same time. She bit her knuckle to stop from sobbing. Even years later she still felt the grief as if it'd happened just yesterday. It clutched her in its unforgiving claws. She hadn't had the chance to see their little girl buried. She hadn't been able to admit to herself or to accept the agonizing fact she had gone forever. She hadn't given herself time to mourn, to grieve or to forgive herself.
"Rukia." She heard a male voice from a distance. From the other end of the tunnel, where there was light. "Rukia, honey, please answer me. I won't only be a big guy but also an old man. If you remain like this, I'll go gray in no time."
"Old or grey, you're still Ichigo Kurosaki. My Ichigo." She uttered with all the love and guilt she felt inside. "You'll always be my love no matter what. My only love even if you can't forgive me for not keeping our little girl safe and sound."
The hands on her back stilled as she confessed her sin. Yes, it was her sin. If she'd not left the country with the inexcusable excuse of finding her individuality, she would not have given birth to their baby in another country. In reality she'd run away from her own immaturity. Their little girl wouldn't have died at birth if she hadn't been hardheaded and too proud. She should have made him talk and tell her why he'd changed. And why he'd broken his promise after their night together. She should have stayed instead of running off hiding from her own feelings and hurt. If she'd stayed a little longer, she'd have known their one night had resulted in a miracle. A gift she'd thrown away because of her cowardice. Their little girl could have had a chance at life or survived a little longer for her to be loved by both parents and grandparents.
Grandparents. More guilt.
How was she going to tell his parents? How was she going to face them again? And what was she to do when they thanked her for coming back to their son? And that only she could complete him? How could she receive such love and trusting while harboring such dark, heartbreaking secret?
Didn't they know she hadn't really been living without their son? That only he could complete her too? Without her big guy, she'd felt like some rootless water plant, floating from one day to the next and going through life with no real purpose. Merely an existence. Meaningless.
Without him she'd just survived. Even survival had been an extremely difficult task at times. Without him, she'd kept on living like a normal human being only because she had the responsibility to live for the privilege of being born into this world and having been given too much. She had family, friends and the less fortunate to be thankful for and to repay the debt of love by surviving. She'd had to live on to see the world which their baby girl could never see. To bear the guilt. And because she'd had to live on to see him again one day.
She was in her own world, the one she'd promised herself she'd never revisit. She didn't see the pained look then understanding dawned on him. She remain immobilized when he picked her up and placed her on his lap, holding and warming her motionless body.
"I'm so sorry."
Had she heard it right? Someone apologizing to her? No, it must have been her. She—no one else—was supposed to say those words. She deserved the tightening in her throat, the twisting of her gut and the wrenching of her heart. She deserved the numb yet gripping pain in her shredded heart, which had just begun to mend from his love.
"I'm so sorry."
There it was again. She made her mouth move to stop him do what should have been her responsibility as the guilt bearer. But no words came forth. Her lips seemed to freeze as her entire body had much earlier. Detached from her own body, she felt herself move back and forth as a warmth—it flickered then strengthened—seeped into her along with a sound.
Not just any sound but the sound of a beating heart. Sure and strong. Forgiving and loving. She realized she wasn't alone anymore. She didn't have to bear everything by herself. He was there with her every step of the way. Like their promise to each other, her Ichigo wouldn't let her fall. Her Ichigo would always be there to catch and hold her. Her Ichigo would never let her be cold and alone again.
"I love you, Ichigo Kurosaki." She breathed into his neck. "I love you more than I ever thought I was capable of. I love you more than you'll ever know."
"I love you just as much." The big, strong arms around her tightened but gentle. Always gentle. "And I'm sorry for not being there with you through such heartbreak. I'm so very sorry."
"You're not angry?"
"Angry? At you?" He looked out the window at the sky. "At him?"
"Yes, at me."
"Why would I be? You're angry at yourself. Have been punishing yourself more than enough. Why would I want to hurt you more?" Cupping her face, he said as his thumbs wiped away the tears—which were still falling—from under her eyes. "More importantly, it's not your fault that our little girl died. It's just that she was meant to be here on earth for just that long and not meant to stay by our side. She's meant to be with some other couple who will love her as much as we would have if she'd been ours longer."
Her nose all stuffy, she sniffed. "You could make a fine philosopher or counselor, Mr. Kurosaki." She commanded her cold and stiff lips to curve up when he smiled. There was such sadness in his captivating eyes. She poked fun at him, wanting to take that sadness away since she'd put it there. "When did you get all philosophical and insightful, big guy, and not act like a bully anymore?"
"Since the day I ran into a fearless girl, who stood up to guy almost twice her size." He nuzzled her hair. "Her caring and honesty had taught me to become insightful hence be considerate to others."
She knew he meant to make her laugh. So she did. "Mr. Kurosaki, with your strange taste, I'm worried for our kids."
"My taste strange?"
"Yes, very strange indeed." She chuckled blinking back tears. "Who else but you would call kicking another caring? And whoever would call another honest when that person lied through her teeth denying even to herself about her own feelings? No one, only you."
"I didn't realize." Table turned. "Maybe you're right. Hmm, should I go find myself another little girl less fearless and not as fearsome? A girl who wouldn't threaten to kick her husband's butt to the end of the earth and back again." He nodded and pretended to get up. "Yes, I definitely will."
"I dare you." A punch on his muscular chest, smugly she said, "Let's see if you do and I don't tell Mom and Dad. And of course there is Brother." Another tender threat. "And don't forget his copy too."
"Oh, boy." He whistled. "What did I marry into?"
"Hell?"
"It might be someone else's hell." He contradicted. "But it's my heaven and I don't want to be anywhere else on earth rather than be in that hell with you. Only with you, Rukia Kurosaki."
"Honestly, you're not mad at me? Not even a bit?"
"Not even a tiny bit."
"But," she couldn't find the words, "but I did you wrong."
What did she mean? "No, my dear wife, you didn't wrong me or anybody else but yourself."
"Myself?" Confusion evident on her dear face. "I'm not following you."
"Let me put it this way." He searched her eyes and held them. "You wronged yourself when you shouldered all the blame and let guilt drag you down. You wronged yourself when you didn't hunt me down—or ask your brother to—and bash my thick head for my misplaced self-sacrifice believing letting you go was for your own good. You wronged yourself when you suffered alone and not let me share the pain with you." To give her some of his warmth and let her know he could never get angry at her—certainly not over something he was also responsible for—he folded her petite form in his arms. "How can I be angry when I love you more than I did before your confession? I love you more and I hate myself more for letting you leave then hurt alone."
"How did you know I had our little g—" She struggled to finish but it came out in a choke. In a less shaky voice, she started all over again. "How did you know I didn't have her here?"
Her body felt cold, he held her tight. His lips against her forehead, he related, "During our ride from the park to your sister's house, you recounted the years you were away and didn't leave out any small detail. But when you told me about your travel overseas, there were holes on the map. I knew there was something you weren't willing to share with me, so I didn't press. Ten years are a long time and it isn't easy to share with another such tragedy, something that traumatic. Especially in our case." Her body tensed. "You're a private person and I didn't really bare my heart to you either. We still have a long way before our communication channel can flow freely." He felt her relax. Then a nod. "Is the air clear now, my girl?"
She leaned back and faced him, eyes all teary but a smile firmly on her lips. "Yes, big guy, the air is clean and fresh. Everything is fantastic." She said as she kissed him. "You're everything that I've ever wanted."
It was the first time she'd taken the initiative and he was so very glad she'd. She'd always been brave and bold, but when it came to the matter of the heart, she turned all skittish. And she didn't do anything by halves either. He could taste her feelings in her kiss.
Her kiss tasted affection. Yearning. Defeat. Hurt. Acceptance. Loss. Grief. Regret. Self-reproach. Withdrawal. Hope. Gratitude. Joy. But most of all he tasted happiness and it'd chased all others away leaving behind only the taste of love.
A fairy tale love yet true. A love so pure but also passionate.
He tasted her love for him. Only him. It'd always been him and no one else.
Enduring and everlasting.
Blessed and honored beyond words, he poured all his feelings into his kiss and hoped she could taste his everything just as he was tasting hers. And he knew she was as she mouthed Thank you against his lips, not breaking off their soulful kiss. A kiss that felt so familiar.
When had he had it? His heart thumped painfully with deep regret as the truth pounded on him, not relenting. The kiss they were sharing felt the same as the one they'd shared before, on the night that had led to the conception of their stillborn little girl.
Why couldn't I recognize them ten years ago? He asked himself. Because you were so full of yourself thinking you knew it all. With self-disgust he admitted he'd been too proud for his own good. For the girl he'd always loved and a baby he would never meet.
"You're remembering that night, aren't you?" Her breath warm against his skin, she spoke softly, their lips lingering.
"Yes and it kept me warm through the nights you weren't at my side." A tear drop then another landed between his lips. He couldn't tell whom they belonged to but they tasted apology. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm truly sorry."
"I am sorry." His eyes pricked as she smiled tearfully at him, whispering. "I'm sorry too for everything we'd been through. And thank you for everything you'd given me. Thank you for giving me the miracle in the form of our little girl although she left too soon." Her smile dimmed but remained. "I thank you for everything you've been giving me without asking for anything in return."
More droplets reached his lips, they tasted love and passion. Her eyes with unmistakable love shining and there were sorrowful and happy tears in them. He forced his eyes to stay open and take in the face before him, but they resisted wanting to drift close and feel the magic unseen.
Her love for him gave him strength, the strength to face the future. It gave him the strength to protect those he loved from whatever fate would throw their way. It gave him the strength to reach for the impossible—an eternal love with her.
His love for her gave her courage, the courage to face her past. It gave her the courage to finally cry tears of ten years and to let go of the past to move forward. It gave her the courage to reach for the impossible—a forever with him.
Her love for him brought tears to his eyes. His love for her made her want to weep tears of joy. Tears were salty and warm like salt when heated. Salt had cleansing and healing powers. The saltiness cleansed all doubt. The warmth mended the broken hearts. The saltiness purified any confusion. The warmth healed the scarred souls.
He let his tears fall and she let hers. Their tears were their love.
"My love, take me back to that twilight." She was trembling but her voice loud and clear.
Heart racing and soul dancing, he leaned forward. "Yes, my love, let's go back to that twilight."
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KOST had just finished playing It's Beginning To Look A lot Like Christmas then another song came on. Her ears tuned in.
"Just great."
She mumbled recognizing the song before the lyrics began. It was Last Christmas by Wham. Who could have been so sick? No, not sick, just lonely to have requested that song around Christmastime.
"Rukia Kuchiki?"
She'd known it was him even before he'd reached the door. She could recognize those footsteps anywhere. Pretending not to have heard his approach or him calling her, she kept on packing.
"Rukia?" She gave no indication she'd heard him so he tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey, little girl, back to earth."
She turned around and stood before him, akimbo. "Yes, big guy?"
"What were you doing that you were so focused?" He asked looking over her head. A valise on their bed. Filled up. And expanded. Where was she going? And why too many clothes? "Where are you going?"
Seriously? She wanted to ask but opted for something else better. "I'm going home of course."
"Home?" He couldn't understand her. She was home. With him. "But you're home. You've lived here for months. Are you sure you're still not out in space forgetting your own home?"
She was tempted to let her eyes roll at his rationalizing. But it was understandable for him to consider his house home. She couldn't, no, wouldn't. If she did, how would she be able to bear leaving it once their one year commitment was up? To others, they had consented to the arranged marriage and appeared to live as husband and wife. To themselves, they'd promised to treat each other as friends then quietly file for a divorce after her grandma's first death anniversary.
Technically their marriage had a timetable, there had been a countdown since the wedding. And it wasn't far in the distant future. It was only weeks away. And she'd made the mistake of feeling what she hadn't meant or had the right to feel for her temporary husband. Winter break had just come in time to help her prepare for the inevitable.
Shaking the gloomy thoughts and unwanted feelings away, she spoke in the best cheerful voice as she knew how. "It's winter break and it's been agreed between our families that I come home visit my family during holidays." Folding the last piece of clothing she was going to take with her, a white rabbit print pajamas top, she demanded, "Where is my present?"
"Why do I have get you one," he replied, hands behind his back.
Disappointed, she lifted one shoulder, hiding her disappointment. "Because I got you one?"
"I didn't ask for it. You gave me on your own free will and that's how presents, gifts, or whatever they are are supposed be given. That means giving and not asking. That's why they're called gift."
"Is that so?" Words said, hands wrestled him to get the scarf around his neck. "Give it back here!"
He took a step back intending to run but before he could, she slapped his back, frustrated.
"Damn it, girl, that hurts." Thwack, another unfriendly pat on his back. He yelled, "What was that for?"
"For calling me," Rukia finished with another pat, "little girl." A kick in the shin. "And that was for not getting me present."
"Gosh. Will you stop hitting me?" He rubbed the injured areas as he asked, scowling. "What do Sis and that husband of hers feed you? Cannon balls or something? Your punches carry more weight than your body does."
"I'll stop hitting you if you stopped forgetting special occasions."
With somber voice he responded, "I only need to remember two."
"What's so important about them that you need to remember and nothing else?"
"It's personal."
She let it pass since it was their rule not to discuss anything personal. She steered their conversation away from it. "Mom mentioned gift exchange on Thanksgiving."
"Which one?" He joked then felt his stinging shin make contact with a hardness covered by fluffy rabbit slipper.
"The one falls on the last Thursday of November every year." She emphasized her statement with another kick to his shin. "How could there be two, big guy?"
"Oh, that Thanksgiving." Used to her special treatment, he kept on, acting as if she hadn't just done him damage. "Now I remember. Say, Rukia, why don't you be a good buddy and turn around for a sec?"
"Whatever for?"
"Just trust me, OK?"
He told her as she turned, with a halfhearted complaint. "What trick are you up to now? It'd better be a good one. Or else…" She didn't get to threaten him as something soft fell over her shoulders. She looked down to find a red scarf. A red cashmere scarf. It was just lovely. "Couldn't you find one smaller? Trying to get back at me?" She said, pulling her new scarf to one side, showing him it reached her foot at full length. "I can trip on this and break my neck."
"Sorry, little girl, the mall I shopped at doesn't carry little girls' scarves," said Ichigo, grinning.
Facing each other now, she could see the sun setting behind him, just above the roof of houses spreading out. And among them were primary and secondary schools, business buildings and power lines. She hadn't realized dusk would be soon upon them. It was time to set out for home. However, she couldn't help but admire the view in front of her.
It was another mild winter as pinkish rays streaking across the blue sky diffused with clusters of white and grey clouds, giving off warmth and peacefulness. Across the street evening breeze picked up its speed and sang past maple trees on the school ground. Some colorful leaves joined the choir while others fell off their branches lazily.
But what truly captured her was the sight facing her. The tousled hair, the rare boyish grin and the constant scowling had become familiar to her, as much as her own face. She wondered how he'd react if she reached up and brushed those strayed tendrils playing with the breeze, coming in through the half opened window. She envied the wind and the sun. They were free to touch him whereas she wasn't even though he was her husband. She released a breath that she hadn't been aware holding and clasped her hands together. She had to stop herself from doing what she'd been tempted to do since that dawn.
She couldn't remember how or when she started to feel self-conscious around her best friend. She had no idea whether the change was good or bad and if he was experiencing something similar.
With him she could talk about some random, insignificant stuff that had nothing to do with school or current events. They talked about nothing yet everything. She always felt comforted being with him even if she sometime wanted to strangle him. There was no need to act but be herself. And if she ever needed to talk to someone, he'd always be ready to lend an ear. He'd listen then encourage her to share whatever was troubling her. He never prodded. He gave her space as she gave him his. They were comfortable being together and sharing innermost thoughts. She hoped he saw her the same way as she saw him and would count on her when he felt alone, lost or scared. Maybe not scared or lost. The big guy couldn't be scared of anything. Or anyone. It was most likely he scared others and made them lost.
No, that wasn't how it was between them. Not anymore. When had it changed? When had she started to put up her guard around him, afraid that she would see through her façade to the jumbled thoughts and confused feelings behind? No, she didn't want that. She wanted them to part as friends carrying only the memories of their friendship in their hearts.
As normally as she could, she let out a long breath then turned to close up her valise. She lifted it off the bed then sat down. "Well, big buy."
"Yeah?" He replied settling down next to her.
"I-" She cleared her throat. "Thank you for everything."
No question asked. No explanation was needed.
"I'll always be here for you. Anything. Anytime."
She turned quiet and he didn't want to ruin the moment. His gaze glued on her as she looked out the window watching the twilight and birds flying home for the night.
"Beautiful," she said softly as if to herself.
"Yes, just beautiful." He agreed leaning over and tentatively his lips touched her closed ones.
She turned to him and slowly her eyes drifted close as her lips parted inviting him in. He had his first taste of her, of the heaven he'd been watching from afar and only dreamed of.
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23 JANUARY 2015
