Chapter 2: Still Water Runs Deep
They told him today was Monday and that he had ended up in the hospital after a bad case of diarrhoea. He recognised the stench of antiseptics in a heartbeat; knew he had spent a lot of time in those barren whitewashed walls.
He snorted. Couldn't they come up with a better lie?
Rukia cooked his food and ate the food he ate; if he actually was hospitalised because of that, where was Rukia?
It was an unfortunate habit he picked up after living with her for the past three months. A part of him was already used to her presence, not having her near when he was around somehow made him anxious.
The scientist in him scoffed at his dependence on her for human contact, whilst knowing full well she was just another agent they sent to spy on him.
Yet, the simple man in him worried because she had unwittingly left a part of herself indented in part of his daily life and routine and it was unthinkable if something should have happened to her.
So he said nothing, didn't want them to think that after they had his family murdered, his nurse was his new weakness; didn't want to give them any reason to think that Rukia was special in any way at all. He stared resolutely at the ceiling, trying desperately to recall the last thing he remembered before he ended up here.
There was dinner. And cake.
The smell of chocolate was a mesmerising scent lingering in the air. Green peas and something else and then, something happened.
He knew it was something important.
Think goddamn it, think.
Right, he remembered; there was a gun fired. Then, he searched his mind for clues but nothing came up- just a blank canvas, devoid of pictures and sounds.
Why did his head hurt so much? No, he urged himself to focus.
Who fired the shot?
Did it hit someone?
Was he shot?
He peered at the light blue hospital shift he had on and discretely examined himself for any signs of wound. There wasn't a single scratch on him, much less a bullet hole.
Was it all just a dream? No, he thought; everything was too real to be a dream.
Wait, he remembered looking into Rukia's eyes. Her eyes- eternally calm and bereft of emotions looking deep into his.
Did she fire the shot at him?
So what was going on?
He heard the creak of an opening door and turned his head towards the door.
Speak of the devil.
It was Rukia- just as short as he remembered with her hair tied into a simple ponytail, wearing yet another sundress, but this time it was a bright happy shade of yellow.
He anxiously checked her for any signs of torture, bruises, a limp in her walk, but to his relief found none. She was fine, at least on the outside she was and he was so glad.
XXX
"What happened?" he asked her.
Her eyebrows furrowed. "You were admitted after a very serious case of food poisoning, don't you remember?"
He was not expecting that answer, but still he feigned calm, if she really was in league with them; he didn't want them to know that he knew about her real identity.
"Really then why weren't you admitted as well?" he asked.
She rolled her eyes and in a clipped tone told him, "you were admitted on a Sunday. You forgot to put the food into the fridge after I left."
"I forgot to put the food into the fridge," he reiterated dumbly.
What did he have for dinner on Saturday night?
Could she be telling the truth?
Was it all merely a hallucination or delirium- the aftereffects of a serious case of diarrhoea?
But it was all so real, how could it be just hallucinations of a feverish mind?
He told himself to remain calm.
"Can I have a glass of water please?" he asked instead, trying to change the topic and buy himself more time.
She walked over to his left and generously poured him a glass of water. It was soothing to his parched throat; he must have been out for quite a while, he thought while she settled herself by the foot of his bed. Her expression was pensive as she fiddled with the hem of her dress.
He backtracked, brown eyes narrowing in suspicion. "How did they find me?"
The petite woman was staring back at him with something akin to disbelief in her eyes. "You mean you don't remember?"
He shrugged, figured that there was no shame in admitting that especially if he really was a victim of severe dehydration.
"You called me, well;" she paused, "that is I don't think you meant to call me per se. My number was set as the first number on speed dial," and seeing his thinly veiled suspicion, she added, "No, you didn't put it in, I did- for emergencies."
He still wasn't completely buying the story.
XXX
"What did I say?"
She smirked, something that made her face crinkle and eyes shine.
"Mad mad things, nonsensical things," she remarked offhandedly, "you fed me some wild tale about a unicorn prancing around your room, walking on two legs and waving at you, making weird kissing noises while he was at it."
He shuddered at the mental image. "That was some random shit," he muttered, glass half-full of water still in hand.
She snorted as she rolled her eyes. "No shit, Sherlock. And then you told me that the unicorn had a gun and he was trying to kill you. Suffice to say I decided to check up on you and drove to your place in the middle of the night."
His nurse pursed her lips. "You scared the shit out of me when I saw you unconscious in the bathroom," she licked her lips and continued, staring him dead in the eyes as she did, "I drove you here."
He frowned, taking into account her side of the story while he maintained eye contact and pondered about her sincerity in the depth of those bottomless pools of blue ice.
Was she telling the truth or was this another elaborate ploy by them to gain his trust?
Was she in league with the government or was she an unwilling victim, brainwashed by them?
Was he really hallucinating or was it another cover-up?
XXX
He shut his weary eyes. Too many questions, too many possibilities, but there can only be one truth.
So what is the truth?
He sighed. "When can I be discharged?" he asked instead, too exhausted to deal with the multi-faceted possibilities.
"Tomorrow," came her gentle whisper, "now sleep. I'll keep watch."
He nodded; his eyelids suddenly heavy and the pillow underneath him felt unnaturally soft. He liked how her voice was this calm alto and not high-pitch or squeaky. She didn't sound chirpy either which was good because that would have reminded him of Yuzu.
He felt her small hands reach out for his and marvelled at how cold her hands were against his and to his surprise, he decided not to shrug them off. Her hands were so small, he thought as he tightened his grip on hers, small enough that he could break them if he wasn't careful.
Like a china doll.
He wanted her to stay safe. She had been living with him for three months now, his caretaker, the distant fair-skinned woman who washed his laundry and cooked his food; the only human being that he interacted with.
You tend to pick up on certain things about your live-in nurse after living together for the past three months.
His nurse was a distant little thing who did not say much nor volunteer much information about her past. The good thing was that she didn't attempt to pry his either, she gave him plenty of room to pursue whatever it is that he wanted as long as he didn't leave the house and respected his privacy enough to let him take care of himself. He was grateful for that and gave her his well-deserved respect.
She kept herself well-groomed and was extremely punctual, but was extremely tight-lipped about the world outside their apartment. He didn't blame her. She was probably under orders not to divulge anything at all.
The dark-haired woman also liked to read extensively. He had seen her peering at his well-stocked book shelves longingly, but the look was always fleeting- never lasting for more than a second and she never approached him about lending or reading any of the books.
She was a proud little thing, he decided; either that or she simply did not take well to rejections.
On a few occasions that she was feeling charitable, she would let him have a say on the menu for the day. Her chocolate cake was absolutely divine and her cooking skills were applauded.
It was unfortunate that she was neither amused nor impressed at his honest mistakes of putting the dirty clothes into the garbage bin and his half-hearted attempts to cook supper.
She could be at times quite sarcastic with her comments and her remarks came with a bit of sting especially when she was cleaning up after him.
The memories made him smile- a rarity in these bleak and hard times.
They had rapport and she reminded him so strongly about his great-grandmother's china-wear collection that had been passed down from generations of Kurosaki women and by right, it should have been handed down to his two fraternal twin sisters.
During the raid, not a single piece of the collection was salvageable. It had been broken and smashed into bits and pieces and then swallowed by the flames as they laid waste to his family home and his sisters were never seen again.
He focused his gaze on her again. The diminutive nurse now had a hand holding on to his and another holding her new book. It seemed that flipping the pages with her left hand did not impede her at all and she kept silent as he drifted off to sleep.
She would be his atonement, regardless of the sacrifices he would have to make; he would save her- the woman caught up in his web of lies and duty.
If only for the sake of his lost innocence and those whom he had failed, he would save her.
Even if it meant forfeiting his life.
XXX
They decided to move him down south; far far away from all his bad memories. For Rukia, this was a move long overdue but she thought that Ishida personally wanted to keep him close by, still hoping that somehow he would recover one day against all odds.
That man was so stubborn that God wouldn't want him as an enemy.
It was the highest compliment Ishida could give a man.
Ishida had said that Ichigo Kurosaki was a man born under a lucky star; somehow he had always managed to land on his feet even in the direst of situations. But then again, Ishida was a God-fearing catholic whose faith in God was what made him pull through, someone who prayed and attended mass and believed in miracles.
Despite his stoic appearance and callous attitude, Rukia believed that he had a heart of gold, a trait he shared with his beautiful wife- the willingness to believe the good in people and these were the people she trusted to lead the rebuilding of their civilisation.
Somehow even as parts of their heart died and blood came streaming freely down their faces, these brave souls managed to pick up the pieces and acclimatise themselves with the post-war world and flourish.
She wasn't one of them.
XXX
Even after the war, she never felt safe if there wasn't a knife hidden on her or a gun strapped to her thigh. She was a thing of the pre-war days, where silence was your armour and words your death, freedom was a bird; cageless and unobtainable and oppression was omnipresent.
She came from a world built on the fear of blood and iron, where every thought of yours was zealously concealed and hidden and your enemies are your neighbours.
Had she not risen up to the call of the rebellion, she would have spent the rest of her life in ignorance as an illiterate farm girl who would marry the son of a neighouring villager as soon as she was old enough to bear children.
A life filled with words and freedom was a life she could never have imagined for herself six years ago.
When Ishida invited her for a religious mass, she declined. She was an old dog and as the saying went, you can't teach old dogs new tricks. She didn't put much faith in the power of God as a result of growing up under the rule of the government.
Some picked up religion to cope with the aftermath; others like Ishida had it with them through the rough and bitter times, but Rukia was a pessimistic soul who would rather believe in her strength and those of her comrades than anything else.
She didn't fit in with the crowd at the post-war galas that partied and smiled to remind themselves that the world was over, she preferred the silence of cemeteries, content with the knowledge that she was alive and her enemies dead.
Besides, she had seen enough slaughter and madness to doubt the very existence of mercy, let alone of miracles and God. She was pretty sure that Ichigo was didn't believe in miracles either and it seemed that Ishida had finally conceded as well.
The world was not built on miracles and maybe it was time that everyone realised that and moved on.
XXX
They were moving to his summer home- his family home, Ishida had told her. It had been destroyed during a raid but had recently been rebuilt and completely remodelled, they doubted that he would remember or recognise anything at all.
Both of his sisters were still in the house when the raid happened and it was assumed that neither of them made it out alive. She agreed that it was a good thing to move him from the Capitol but she didn't like the idea of returning him to the place.
Karakura brought back to many memories for him and she had witnessed more than once the relapses that broke this proud man apart. With them so far removed from the Capitol, it would be hell if he suffered a relapse and she wasn't sure if he could handle another relapse with his current mental state.
He sat beside her in silence, twiddling the sweet wrapper idly.
She wondered what he was thinking about. When she first told him the news that they were going to Karakura, he was surprisingly calm and began packing almost immediately. He didn't seem excited but he didn't seem troubled either; didn't even bother to ask why.
"How much longer until we reach Karakura?" he asked her, eyes on the creased plastic.
She sighed. "Two more hours," she replied.
XXX
It was the first time she had seen him under the sun, breathing fresh air as the train whizzed pass the green foliage of the sunny countryside. His brown ochre glowed when the light hit them at the right angle and his hair was more brown than orange, she much preferred this than the fluorescent neon under artificial white lights that made his skin pale and his complexion sickly.
But he didn't smile, if anything he seemed tense; the closer they got to Karakura, the deeper he furrowed his eyebrows.
She decided that the first thing they do when they got to Karakura was to get him a dog or any pet for that matter.
He had too much time on his hands and too little interaction with any biological entities. Looking at numbers everyday would have made a normal man crazy and Rukia wasn't a genius or smart enough to read his mind and know his thoughts.
She had given up on Orwell, didn't want to risk another relapse- it was a lack of foresight on her part, but Shakespeare was not her cup of tea. She couldn't get past two pages of his 'thou' and 'thy' before slamming the old classic shut. Ichigo had shot her a look of contempt at that but she persisted in not touching any more of the Elizabethan classics.
Those were not for mere, ordinary folks like her.
So, she settled for something a bit simpler and chose Verne. She was down to her last chapter now but she didn't like reading in the train.
She surreptitiously glanced at him from the corner of the eyes as he fixed his gaze straight ahead.
They had left most of his books behind when they left. Ishida promised that he would send them after everything was settled but Ichigo insisted on packing all his Shakespeare and taking them with him personally. Rukia was fine either way as long as she didn't have to carry the load.
She tried to feign sleep because she didn't like the thick silence between them. They were the only two passengers in the carriage; Ishida had insisted on the tight security measures even with Rukia aboard.
Yet Ichigo's fidgeting annoyed her greatly. She frowned as the glaring sunlight forced her to move closer to the scientist.
XXX
"Are you happy to return to Karakura?" she finally asked; curious to hear his response, it had been the question plaguing her mind for quite a while.
He stopped tugging at the wrapper, eyes still peering at the wispy clouds overhead and sighed.
"Does it matter?"
She pushed onwards. "It does to me," she said.
He turned his gaze to her and she tried hard to search his face for clues to no avail. His expression was unreadable.
XXX
"No," he said after a long pause, "If it were up to me, I would set this whole place on fire and let it burn."
That was the end of their conversation.
Hese's Corner:
Another chapter for you all. Same question applies: what is the truth?
I love your PMs and reviews. Tell me what you think about the new chapter and what do you think is going to happen soon.
Your favourites and follows make my day. ;) Hope you guys enjoy this as well.