A/N: I'm so sorry for this bogus filler chapter. I really don't have the time to write anymore since school started, so one more chapter and we're done. I probably only have enough material left for one more chapter, though things can always change.
Again, sorry for this bad, bad chapter, but it sets up for the next one I guess. I promise that the next one will be better.
Please enjoy and review.
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Conveniently, maybe a little too much so, the Christmas holiday came the next day.
Fatigue from the last few months took its toll the minute she laid down on the futon in her temporary home, the backrooms of Urahara's shop. For the night and entire next day, she remained engulfed in the deep slumber, held there perhaps by a part of her that wished to remain in the dark oblivion. Away from his stinging words and wounded eyes.
Groggily she opened her eyes to the windowless wall and savoured the blissful minute where she couldn't remember when or where she was. But the ignorance was short lived and just as the memory reared its ugly head in her mind, Rukia shot up from under her blankets to divert her attention elsewhere.
The house was eerily quiet, as Urahara and the two brats were nowhere to be seen. With a yawn Rukia walked into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea in the cold morning. Outside of the kitchen window the air was free of falling snow, all the colours muted under the grey sky.
She leaned against the sink and breathed the light fragrance from her steaming cup, letting it fill to her lungs and warming her. It was delightful, the warmth in the room clashed with the unforgiving cold outside. But instantly, Rukia felt guilty for the small cork on her lips.
She had hurt a man, perhaps beyond repair, and now cowardly escaping the responsibility.
His words resounded in Rukia's ears again:
For me or just because I look like him?
Why do you love me?
With a heavy sigh Rukia set down her cup in the kitchen sink, her thoughts fruitlessly ran in a circle.
Why do I love you? Does there need to be a why? I just do, isn't that good enough? But is that love, when I can't even explain it? There must be a why, so why do I love you?
Just like that, she would find herself right back to square one.
The air outside looked crisply cold, like spotless glass, suggesting some lucidity there. Within the minute Rukia was armed in a heavy coat that Urahara so peculiarly had ready and walked through the shop's door.
Her breath materialized in a wispy plume, quaintly so, in the crystalline air. Rukia wandered aimlessly on the street, Christmas shoppers walked past with bags of various colours and sizes, all looking hectic and ready to drop with the weight. She let the tangled thoughts drown in the flashing colours and mess of too many Christmas songs playing all at once.
She walked, not once looking back.
How far will I have to go, to find an answer? Will I believe it? Will he be there to listen?
"Miss Kuchiki, decided to join in on the festivities?" An annoyingly familiar voice cut through the hubbub of shoppers.
Normally Rukia would try to ignore it and walk on, but today anyone's company was welcome. She turned to the direction of his voice and saw the blond man, with his two little minions in tow, waving at her from behind the sake stand.
So I find him there. Rukia thought warily.
"Yes Urahara, it was too quiet in the house without you three." Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Isn't it? I'm glad you decided to join us for the holiday shopping!" Urahara ignored her mockery and called back with an enormous smile on his face. He held up the bags in his hand, which were filled solely by bottles that he clearly purchased from the stand.
Rukia chuckled ruefully and walked up to the trio, wondering how she was willing to spend an entire day with Urahara.
She soon discovered it an excellent distraction from her current predicament, as she was dragged from one shop to another by Ururu, whose cheeks were a giddy red from the cold and excitement. Chinta was equally ecstatic, releasing his pent-up energy by chasing and bullying the girl. Rukia felt lighter, her heart lost in the merriment before her.
The sky was dark when they returned to the shop. After dropping the countless bags onto the living room floor, Rukia was the first to sink to the tatami floor and nurse her throbbing leg. She was reluctant to admit it, but the day's memory melted in a flurry of colours and sounds, too wonderful to remember each second.
With a thud, Urahara slammed down a bottle of newly purchased liquor onto the table and plopped down across from her, beckoning Ururu and Chinta to join them also. The two brought four glasses and a plate of assorted snacks that they picked up earlier.
Drinking party…figures.
Rukia accepted her first glass from an overly zealous Urahara, and found it quite enjoyable as each mouthful warmed her in a way that a cup of coffee never could. In the middle of her second, a shapeless contentment filled her, spreading a foolish grin on her face. Urahara's face was flushed as he began telling in a loud voice past antics of shinigami captains.
"Then," Urahara paused to take a breath amidst his uncontrollable laughing and wiped the tears from his eyes, "apparently Byakuya started crying when Yoruichi caught him using shunpo."
Rukia was rather unsettled by the image of a miniature Byakuya crying. Even as a child, the idea of any expression of emotions on her brother seemed too alien to comprehend. Unexpectedly, she found herself giggling along.
Somewhere along the way, the two midgets succumbed to the effects of the alcohol and fell asleep on the tatami floor. With just the two of them left, Rukia vaguely realized that she was willingly spending time with Urahara.
"I take it from your night out that we are making progress?" Urahara asked piercingly, his tone still sly as ever.
When he puts that way, it sounds so wrong…
"It's… not going exactly as I had planned." Rukia chose her words carefully, not to give him any details.
"Ah, Ichigo has gotten a little shrewder since you last left him, has he?"
"Do you love Miss Shihouin?" Rukia asked. She could tell, the question caught him off guard.
"Love? Miss Kuchiki, I'd expect you to use a word that's not so… illusionary." Urahara looked down at his half empty glass, all of a sudden more serious than she had ever seen. "But I guess the answer you are looking for is yes."
"Why do you?"
"No reason." Urahara shrugged, almost as if he was anticipating such a question. "But I guess that's why she still talks to me."
Rukia chewed the words over in her mind, he made it sound as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Why does the answer elude her, was it something that only ones who are in love could understand?
Was it simply because she wasn't?
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When Rukia pulled her aching body up from the futons, she cursed that Urahara's sleazy lifestyle was getting to her. To make the self-loathing worse, she discovered as she walked into the kitchen that it was already noon. The other three members of the household seemed to have also just woken up, each looking like hell and nursing a hangover. Rukia walked past Urahara, who was slumped face down over the kitchen table, and filled a glass of icy water to ease her pounding headache, clearly an aftermath of last night's drinking.
"Ururu," Urahara spoke with a raspy voice, without lifting his head from the table, "find those daikons from yesterday, you know what to do… Take Chinta with you, quickly."
So that's why he bought them, guess these drinking parties are a regular fare.
Ururu and Chinta pulled themselves up with a great amount of effort and shuffled to the storage room, where Rukia guessed last night's purchases were kept. Within seconds, after an odd series of whirling from the storage room, the two came back each holding two glasses of whitish looking liquid. Urahara and Rukia were each given one.
"Drink it." Urahara downed the contents in a mouthful, wincing slightly at the taste.
Rukia almost spit it out as soon as she took a drink, it was unmistakably juice from those daikons. It was slightly salty and piqued at the inside of her mouth, with a hint of the taste of soil. But in pure hope of ridding the headache, she poured it down in one swig and instantly felt her eyes water.
Remarkably, after the pungent taste cleared from her mouth, Rukia could feel her headache and nausea receding. Though any endearment she ever felt towards Urahara was gone at that moment, replaced by an iron will to never touch the stuff ever again.
How could Yoruichi ever stand him?
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A/N: Sorry again for the filler chapter.