Chapter 6 (Kumiko)

"Mom," Her voice was quiet and meek. I glanced at her from my desk and she stared at the bottle of sake next to my table, "Could you help me practice my shamisen?"

I shut my eyes again and felt tears sting my eyes. Why did she have to see me like this? She shouldn't have to…but I was so fucking tired of the thoughts that went through my head. I didn't want to live this stupid, pitiful life but had to because she needed me. And yet, when she needed me, I felt like I could never do enough.

I was always lacking in some way. I was so fucking pathetic.

"Give me five minutes," I whispered, trying to keep my tongue from slurring. I had drank more than I intended. Sweeping my hand across the table, I knocked the sake into the dust bin beside my desk.

"Okay."

She padded off into the living room but another pair of feet replaced hers. My mother stared at me from the door with a deep frown. She always had lines across her face now. Her hair and clothes weren't quite as extravegant as they used to be. Years of grief and burden marred her skin and her soul.

"You've been drinking again," Her voice was calm and level. She wanted to have a conversation but I wasn't ready for it. I sat up and stood up unsteadily, bracing myself against the table, "Kumiko, you're better than—"

"I'm not though. That's the thing."

She came to my side, letting me lean against her as we made our way out of the office and down the hall, "You cannot let him break you anymore. It was years ago, sweetheart. He's gone…"

She must hate me just as much as everyone else. I'm the whore that slept with the man who killed her daughter. My sister. I'm disgusting.

Destroying the ones I'm supposed to protect was my specialty. I could see all their faces now—judging me for what I did to them. Ren. Jun and Mei. Shizuko. Takahashi. Nari. Rika and Maki. Mashiro…Haku.

I had damned them all by being damned myself—they had all been foolish enough to trust someone like me. Just like I had been foolish enough to trust someone like Kisuke.

"I…" I stopped in the hallway. Sachiko looked at me with wide eyes as I said to her, "I'm not broken anymore."

"That's good t—"

"There's nothing left to break," I choked on my words. The tears that fell down my cheeks felt like blood. My soul felt like it was bleeding. "I don't know how to breathe anymore, Mom. I can't look at myself in the mirror anymore because I'm so disgusting. I couldn't see how blind I was…and I can't even be strong for my daughter. All I see in that mirror is someone who is confused. Who is she? Kuna? Riku? Urahara? I don't know anymore!"

"Sweetie," She took me by the shoulders and shook me slightly, "Listen here, Kumiko. You are not broken—not until you have died and disappeared from this world. You have plenty left. Maybe it isn't what you used to have…but that's because you're not who you used to be. You're not Kumiko Kuna, Kumiko Riku, or Kumiko Urahara. You are Kumiko, an heiress, a peasant-girl, a Shinigami, a mother, and a girl who has loved and been loved. But most importantly, you are you."

I nodded and she hugged me tightly. I shut my eyes and cried into her shoulder. I knew I could do better. I knew that I needed to do better—for Shizuko and my family. The only problem was that I didn't know how.

"I need to clean up," I pulled away from my mom, "Shizuko needs help with her homework."

As I splashed my face, I looked up at myself in the mirror. My eyes looked hollow, like the life had been sucked from them. I could see the irony of it all—I may have taken all those lives but mine had also been stolen with me. I was a living, breathing corpse.

I slammed my palms against the counter, glaring at myself. All the names raced through my mind—the faces of those who had taken my freedom from me. Kisuke's felt like the loudest. His face was the one that had my hatred soaring to new heights.

But it all felt different somehow. Instead of the hatred smothering me and oppressing me, it felt like a dog nipping at my heels. I was tired of hating Kisuke. I was tired of hating myself and the life that I lived. All this hatred I harboured forced me forward—toward freedom again.

I dug through my bathroom drawer and found my most prized possession. My wedding ring. I slid it onto my finger, staring at it with wide eyes. It had been exactly what I had wanted—simple, delicate.

"Kisuke…what's going on?" I had been facing away from him, and he had wrapped his arms around my waist. Before I could speak again, he held out a ring.

"Marry me."

His embarrassed and silly smile grew into a wide grin as I took the ring and slid it onto my finger. I wasn't sure how it was possible to feel so much love for one person, but I was thankful for it.

"Very suave," I smirked as I turned in his arms. He gave me the sweetest kiss before pulling back, "I'm surprised that you didn't make some cheesy ass speech."

He took my hand in his and admired the ring on my finger, "I don't think I'll ever be able to put into words the way I love you."

I couldn't even scrunch my face into a gag, because his words were the same as I felt. If there really was something like a soulmate, Kisuke Urahara was mine.

Soulmate…

I tore off the ring and threw it across the room, screaming out in anger.

"Mom?" Shizuko had come into my room, the ring in her hand. She stared down at it with a wonder in her eyes, "What is this?"

I quickly wiped my cheeks and headed towards her. Despite how muddled up my emotions were, I had this undying adoration for my little girl. She was so beautiful and so perfect. Unlike me, she was steady-headed and composed.

"I don't know how people like your father and I could have made someone as wonderful as you, Shizuko," I kissed her forehead. She had grown so much, and it had filled me with pride. My love for her washed away the hate, and dwarfed the love I had ever felt for Kisuke. "Do you want it?"

She stared at me with wide eyes, "What is it—"

"Nothing important to me anymore," I smiled and slid the ring on her finger. It was a little loose but it looked just as exquisite on her, "It had been a gift from your father. I don't want it anymore…but I won't throw it away if you like it."

"I love it!" She grinned widely, holding her hand up. She took it off her ring finger and slid it onto her thumb, where it fit perfectly. I nodded in approval and she took my hand, "Come now! I want to show you what Miss Chiyotsuru taught me! I think she may want me as her apprentice—wouldn't that be wonderful? She's the most graceful geisha in the Rukongai!"

I smiled as I listened to her. My mother joined us and together we acted as an audience for our rising star. She was very good, her fingers picking at the strings of the shamisen like reeds of grass in a river.