In Between Days
Having grown up in the Rukongai district; without parents, or any immediate family; they'd been each other's sole reminders.
At the time, it seemed to attach happiness to a day, one as uncertain as any other. The sky would not suddenly look upon them with good fortune, simply because it was the anniversary of their birth.
Yet somehow, the excitement it awoke in her helped him hold the day in higher regard. Serving, if nothing else, as a reminder of how fortunate he was to have someone to share the occasion with.
There were others who weren't so lucky.
Still, it was hard to celebrate when they were living in the streets.
They didn't have much to offer each other.
With each passing year, he was growing taller and broader in the shoulders; already having trouble fitting into the tattered, worn rags they called clothes. She would offer him extra rations from the scraps they'd pilfered at the market, stubbornly fighting his refusal, insistent.
He would push away the sincerity of the gesture, the warmth tingling in his chest, with a smirk, teasing that the food probably wouldn't help her grow taller anyway.
The dull thud in his shoulder from where she thumped him was a welcome shift in the mood. It was familiar, much easier than confronting the feelings she awoke in him.
.
He still remembered his first birthday after the last of their friends had been buried.
She huddled close to him, lips trembling. Perhaps it was from the morning chill, or perhaps the weight of her sorrow. He wasn't sure. For once, though, he didn't hesitate to cross the threshold between them, leaning into the touch that had seemed so daunting before.
They kneeled before their graves, not allowing even death to stop them from being a part of the celebration; hoping to bring happiness to the tragedy that had robbed them off their lives.
He vowed silently, that the next time they came back, the next time they were together, they would have a livelihood. A chance of surviving in this world.
They couldn't let something like this happen again.
It was their gift with spiritual power, that would secure their future.
Because right now, no part of their lives felt secure.
Perhaps, most terrifyingly, he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold onto her forever.
.
Renji had been ecstatic to tell Rukia about his trip into the human world. Getting to clash with Hollows alongside Kira and Hinamari, getting to see real Captains of the Gotei 13 in action. The adrenaline was still coursing through him as he bounded down the halls in search of her.
It dissipated abruptly as his eyes reached her almost unrecognisable figure; hunched and forlorn. Standing a shell of her normally strong, confident self.
Despite the shakiness of her words, they crumpled heavily upon him, the wind drifting harshly from his lungs. They bore the weight of news that filled him with dread, that she had been adopted by the noble family, the Kuchikis.
Her eyes were downcast, not quite meeting his shoulder, Renji noticed how small and vulnerable she seemed. As he held her at arm's length, the distance between them was, for the first time, palpable.
Words swam through his head, an incomprehensible flurry, smothering him. He yearned desperately to grasp onto something; any clear, coherent reason to keep her beside him.
He bit the urge down, like bile clumping in his throat.
This wasn't about him.
This was everything they had sought for together. A secure future, a second chance to escape from the struggle they had lived through on the streets.
A family.
The space between them would only grow larger as she stepped away, her voice carrying weakly, thick with tears.
It almost didn't reach him.
.
The Kuchikis she had been adopted into were a strong and influential clan.
There was no way a tramp like him would ever be able to associate with her. Not at his current level.
From that day forth his focus shifted, as he fell into training; cutting his teeth as a seated officer in Eleventh.
The time spent was there tough, the exertion ripping through his body like serrated metal. Yet he was slowly growing stronger, more in tune with the spiritual energy inside himself.
After much struggling, he had learnt the name of his Zanpaktou, Zabimaru. Renji basked in the knowledge, hungrily, as if it alone would be enough to bring him closer to her.
.
Forty times he celebrated. Not alone, but without her.
Even amidst the loud, often violent festivity of his former cohorts in the Eleventh, or the more placid company of his old classmates, Kira and Hinamori, everything filtered into the background like static.
The parties they held were far more lavish than he'd been familiar with, sake and food flowing freely. Renji felt almost guilty in his unhappiness, knowing that his younger, starving self would beg to come as far as he had. For such a banquet, to be surrounded by such warmth and companionship.
And yet, he also never could have understood the significance of what was lost. The feelings he had been too afraid to acknowledge.
He appreciated his friends' presence. The fact that they helped him realise the goal he had set out for himself.
Yet, none of them could ever fit into the gap she had created.
Her absence was an all-encompassing void, suffocating him. As though, without her, he couldn't remember the purpose of that day, the sense of love and family associated irrevocably with it.
For all the meaning that day carried, he may as well have been alone.
To recognise how far he had come, how much he had grown.
It was difficult without her perspective.
He lived with himself each day; doubting, wondering if the effort was worthwhile. He got caught up in his failures and shortcomings, unable to see when he moved in the right direction.
Her encouragement had always quelled those worries.
.
Renji grumbled at the sound of a high-pitched cry, stirring him from his sleep. Kicking languidly at the tangle of sheets surrounding him, Renji shifted upright, hair tousled and trickling over his shoulder blades.
Feet grazing against the floor, he could feel clarity seeping slowly back into him as he was rooted to the solid surface.
Renji stumbled along the trail created by that tiny, shrill voice. The movement ingrained unconsciously into him.
As his shuffling slowed by the doorframe, the cries faded abruptly into soft, even breaths.
Squinting, Renji crossed the threshold into the room. His eyes came into focus, breath catching at the vision before him.
Ichika settled in her mother's arms, her whimpers dying as she nuzzled against the familiar warmth of her chest. Her fears whisked swiftly away under Rukia's watchful eye.
Rukia's eyes softened as she cradled her baby, the moonlight reflecting her serene expression. Her hand delicately securing Ichika's head, stroking at the shock of crimson sprouting there; the same that fell over his eyes.
At another point, Renji may have been overcome by the urge to step away, worried that his presence may shatter the private moment between mother and daughter.
Wordlessly, Renji shifted to stoop beside her, arms surrounding Rukia and the bundle she embraced.
Glancing over her shoulder, Rukia smiled gently, moving closer into his grasp.
Her gaze held his steadily, unbroken. The once foreign warmth radiating through Renji, not just familiar, but an intrinsic part of him. It drifted from his chest, carrying through the words that she uttered softly.
"Happy birthday, Renji."