Title: Books
A/N: Nothing to report.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
It's raining this dreary Saturday afternoon, freezing rain that makes the slight layer of snow on the ground into sleet and the ground too slippery to safely walk or drive on, and Uryuu is stranded alone in the house. Soken's told him not to come over when it's raining or snowing and Ryuuken is at work, knee-deep in car crash victims and flu patients; he likely won't be back until long after dark.
Having done all his homework, there isn't much to do except stare out the window and watch the rain freeze into ice droplets on the window. Ryuuken was up last night smashing icicles off the porch ceiling with a broom; he's going to have to do the same thing when he gets home tonight, Uryuu can imagine. He resists the urge to turn up the thermostat, knowing Ryuuken can tell the difference and for the longest time finds himself huddling under a thick quilt, cheek pressed against the window.
It feels like it's been raining forever, and indeed Uryuu hasn't seen the sun since Wednesday. Since then there has been a more or less constant, steady rapping on the roof by the pounding water. Oddly, Uryuu's also been sleeping better than he usually does.
Eventually, he finds himself, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, wandering into the office.
Lately, Uryuu's curiosity has finally completely overcome his hesitation of entering the off-limits room. Naturally he won't be venturing in there when Ryuuken's home without good reason, but alone without anything else to do, Uryuu is naturally drawn to a room full of books, even books that look nothing like the small, flimsy ones he's used to.
For a moment upon entering Uryuu feels for all the world like someone does when skipping school or upon having taken an extra serving without permission or without being noticed: slightly nervous, quite giddy and extremely edgy. That feeling evaporates soon enough and he pulls a random book out of a shelf at eye level.
Tottering a little under the weight of the immense tome, Uryuu sinks to the floor, balancing the book on his lap and fighting with the quilt to get it disentangled from his legs. Swallowing with some difficulty, he rests a small hand on the cover (The Psychology of the Human Mind, written in bold, white, sans-serif letters) of the book. If this is a precipice then Uryuu jumps off the side soon enough, for it takes him almost no time at all to surmount his apprehension and open the book.
Brow furrowing, Uryuu finds himself flipping through the book. Normally he would not do so—his reading habits involve the methodical, front-to-back devouring of a book—but Uryuu is bored and it takes him a while to find a topic that catches his eye. He flips through the pages idly, occasionally stopping to gawp at some bizarre or grotesque illustration before moving on.
Finally, a topic that sounds promising appears, and Uryuu starts to read in earnest.
The young boy laps it up, eager to have anything to do. That Uryuu doesn't understand half of what he's reading does present something of an impediment, but when close inspection of the room reveals that there is no dictionary to be found, Uryuu sits back down and continues his reading, refusing to be daunted or overawed by large, unfamiliar words.
A few terms manage to stick in his head. Things like "paranoid schizophrenia" and "auditory hallucinations". "Bipolar disorder", "anorexia nervosa", "chemical deficiencies" and "terminal symptoms" stand out as well, clinging stubbornly to the fabric of his mind. He is confronted with the stark, unforgiving photograph of a woman whose ribs protrude from her waxen, too-tight skin like steps on a ladder. Her eyes, heavy and sullen, are dark holes that burn beneath Uryuu's skin, and eventually he turns his horrified, but all the same fascinated eyes from her form, but he doesn't stop turning the pages, and he doesn't put up the book. This will be worth returning to, he thinks, when he has more knowledge, and more time on his hands.
Uryuu only realizes how long he's been reading when he hears a car pull up in the driveway. He flinches, replaces the book on the shelf and quickly retreats to his room, leaving the office where he found it and just barely remembering to close the door behind him.
It's impossible not to crack a small smile when Uryuu sticks his head out his bedroom door and sees Ryuuken holding a broom and wearing a decidedly irked expression marching towards the front door. Uryuu can guess his thoughts now—I just did this last night; where are they coming from?
He won't tell his father about reading out of the book this afternoon. For good or ill, Uryuu is learning to keep things from his father; he doesn't call Soken "Sensei" where Ryuuken can hear and the small cross pendant he always keeps out of sight, hiding it under his mattress when he's at home. The secrets he gathers to himself and doesn't let go of. Of course, Uryuu spends half his time these days hiding from his father anyway, wary of the man whom he knows can't separate his image from that of his mother's; he's stopped trying to actively seek out the man's company. Secrets go with that.
I wonder what it means, Uryuu thinks to himself, as he goes to the kitchen for some crackers. The telltale sound of crashing ice comes emanates from the porch. I wonder what the book means, and everything else too.
