You know the drill, but this is actually quite a tame chapter for me.
HOUSEHOLD GODS
3. Bad Ghost Stories
The sun is yanked up over the edge of the city and its fiery light leaks through the blinds. It drips down from the sill and pools around the bed, creating puddles of light in the wrinkles of the bed sheets. A body shifts underneath and shadow and light contend.
Renji rolls out of the bed, leaving Rukia buried. He walks next to the boy who sleeps on his floor. "Isn't this interesting," he says and the boy doesn't hear.
"Renji," she says from the bed and in her hand is a slim, black phone. He walks over.
He says, "Rukia, did you notice?"
And she nods her head. She noticed.
He grabs the phone. He shuffles through the screens. One new text message, one, like yesterday. He looks back to the boy, the boy, who isn't going to take the news well, who will shout and protest; and be rebellious and fickle. Who is, and remains, just all too human.
He stirs and moans, rolling on the floor. This boy, this undead boy, he growls in his sleep. His arms move over his head. His legs stretch taut and his eyes creep open. "Good morning," Renji says, not grinning. "Hope you slept well." The boy just looks away. "Because we've got work to do."
…
On the phone, he's a different person. He does not smile or jeer. He's a whole different man; one who wouldn't jump off the tallest suspension bridge. Ichigo watches. He watches those generous lips move and speak. He listens to that rough voice, the way it hums in the man's throat. Renji doesn't notice. He just speaks into the phone and then slaps it shut. He looks down onto Ichigo. Looks at him with these golden, amber eyes. Just looking. Then he smiles.
Ichigo asks, "What're you smiling for?"
And then he says, "Congrats. You're a shinigami." He says, "Better luck next time."
"What?" The words are flat.
"You haven't noticed yet?" And Renji is grinning again. His phone neatly tucked away. So Ichigo asks, noticed what? And he says, "That people are looking at you."
Ichigo's head tips up. They were on the sidewalk. Walking somewhere to which Renji did not specify, and yes, people are walking around him. Their shoulders squeeze against their necks to pass by without a nudge. They twist their bodies to slip around him.
"Don't worry," Renji says and Ichigo lifts his hand, reaching out in front of him. "You're still dead." And he grabs onto a short man passing by. The short man startles and looks back at Ichigo. What kind of outburst? And then Ichigo releases him, letting him slip back into the moving crowd. Like fishing. "You're just-"
"Like you?"
Renji nods. "To the living world," he says, "you're not you anymore. You're not anybody anymore." And it's a lot to grasp. "This you that you are," he says, "is not the same you that you were." And it all seems redundant. "Because that you is dead to everybody and this you, they'll never know." They walk side by side, but Renji is a little faster. "Your family," he says. "It's better if you stay away from them."
The boy takes a breath. "This shinigami business, this whole being dead thing," Ichigo says. "It all sounds," and his voice gets very quiet, "like it's, I don't know, lonely."
To a fifteen-year-old boy, to be dead and ignored, to remain unacknowledged, yes. It does sound lonely. You're a dead and friendless shinigami; you move about as you, but not the same you, and it's lonely. To be alive, but dead, that's lonely too. To be stuck, tied to a chair on earth, and watching you're family live on without you- you get lonely. And suddenly, you just can't stand to be around the living, around all those jointly people. To be the minority, the minority of anything, it's a lonely business.
A hand comes onto his shoulder and the boy looks into those golden, amber eyes. Renji says, "If you get lonely," he says, "then I'll be your family." And they keep walking, Renji's hand back at his side. The moment passes.
"Where are we going?"
Renji says, "915 Elms Road."
Ichigo swallows and Renji gives him the international hand sign for peace. Only he means, 'two'. "13:02:15 and 13: 04: 01," he says. "Two people have two unbreakable appointments with death."
"Great," Ichigo mumbles. "So why am I going?"
"To get a feel for the job," Renji says. "It's like…" And he thinks. "Training, or something, for a job."
"But I don't want the job."
Renji frowns. "You think God wanted the job of being God?"
"What?"
"Well really, if you think about it, if you're God, then what else are you supposed to do?" And he says, "You just have to be God and be a god. You think God wanted to be a god? Or did he have to be a god?"
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"You're a shinigami, Ichigo Kurosaki. You have obligations."
The boy shakes his head, thoroughly confused and says, "okay." He accepts it. Whatever Renji said, sure. Sure, all right. That unsound argument, that fallacy in logic, Renji's irrelevant conclusion, all accepted.
And they keep walking.
In each other's company, they are not so alone.
They are not so dead.
…
At 915 Elms street, there's a fucking party going on. On this lovely afternoon, in this large, brick home with the fancy driveway, there's a bunch of middle-aged women gathering. There are shiny cars all lined up down the street and sky blue balloons swaying from the mailbox. Tiny, white print says, 'it's a boy.' At this fucking baby shower, two people are about to die. At this celebration of life, two people are going to expire.
Times up. Death is knocking at your door.
Renji is on the porch, waiting. He raps against the door again. Ichigo stands beside him. Nobody answers. He scratches his neck. "Bloody hell," he mumbles and glances at his watch.
What happens when you don't let death in?
Renji tries the handle and Ichigo slaps his hand away. "That's illegal," he says.
"Yeah, but, we gotta get in there one way or another."
"Why? Why can't we just leave? Let them have a nice party and go home alive. You can come back for them in fifty years."
Renji knocks at the door again. "Nope," he says. There's a rustle at the blinds as the ladies decide who will answer the door. A thin, blonde woman appears in the doorway, shrinking against it. She greets death warily.
"Hi," Renji says and smiles a fake smile. "Our car broke down just over there. Can we use your phone?" And the small blonde shakes her head. They don't have a phone. Or, wait, no, it's just broken, but she's very sorry- perhaps the next house? "Oh, that's too bad," he says. "Can I use your washroom then?" No, that's broken too. The door closes and death is left standing at the porch.
"You know," Ichigo says. "It's because you look like a thug."
Renji tries the window.
Kitchen windows are always open, something about the smells. He waves Ichigo over, "Let me stand on your shoulders."
"Hell no."
"Come on! Come on," he hisses. "Give me a boost. I wonder if they've got cake."
Of course they are caught, but not before one o'clock. And really, even when they're caught trespassing, no one really cares. Everyone is more concerned with the two dead people. Those two on the floor, yeah, they're dead.
It happened only a few moments ago, after Renji dragged Ichigo up through the window. You see, the kitchen windows are always open. As soon as their feet hit the floor, the new mother, the guest of honor, she hit the floor too. Only she hit it after she tripped down a flight of stairs. And by the look of her neck, bent to a perfect 90-degree angle, she was dead. And someone screams. Someone always screams. And she screams, "the baby!"
"Baby?" Renji says, and this is about the time that Renji and Ichigo are caught. Renji, coming around the corner with a piece of cake, he forks in a mouthful and says, "where?" And now everyone is just looking down at the dead mother, the dead mother who was holding the new baby in her arms- who is still holding the baby in her arms. Oh, now he gets it. The baby is mashed under her. He hands his paper plate to Ichigo, who just stands dumbstruck. Ichigo forces out words to ask Renji what he's doing. Why is he going near the bodies?
If death knocks at your door, he will wait there. If you do not let him in, he will let himself in. If you are marked for death, you will die. Death, the great escape, you can't escape it.
In front of all these hysterical women, who are running and shouting and crying, Renji pulls out his cell phone. Confirmation. Soul registry. He presses a few buttons and snaps the phone shut. On his left, the ghost of the mother is standing and cradling her baby's ghost. She kisses the baby on the forehead and says, "sorry."
…
"You can shove this job up your ass!"
"Ichigo." They're back at the flat.
"How can this be fair? A baby and a mom die over a fall down the stairs! Who decides that, huh?" He points to Renji's pocket, to the black phone. "Who sends the message? Who decides these people need to die?!"
"I don't know," and Renji shrugs. "People just die."
"They just die?!" His eyes stretch open. "They don't just die. Their dreams, their relationships, their influence, it all fucking dies!"
Renji drags his hand over his face. Those are the words of a child, of young, adolescent logic. "People need death, Ichigo." He says, "people need to die and so they die."
"Why?!"
"For compassion's sake. Think about it," Renji says.
"What?! How is it compassion for a child to die before it can even speak?!"
"Well, otherwise, that baby would've had to live as a pile of mush under its vegetable mom forever." His lips pull to the side. "Accidents happen, murder happens, all this shit just happens. It's not planned. Death," he says, "is a release."
Oh. And Ichigo, he accepts it. Whatever Renji said, sure.
Sure, all right.
"…I still think they should plan it better," Ichigo says. "You know, like instead of a baby, how about a carnie that lures children behind the stands with promises of a special water gun? You have to get on your knees to see it, that's what he tells you. Then he says, to get it to squirt you have to pump it with your mouth. And then, you find out that this special water gun doesn't even shoot water." Then the boy nods his head, satisfied with supposition
And Renji asks, "What kind of carnivals did you go to?" Crossing his arms, he asks, "seriously, when you were a kid?"
4. Detoxify
When he was alive, Renji was a male model. Don't laugh, but for money he would be measured and combed and placed beside some dying girl, some dead thin girl. And the flashes would fill up the room. He would turn, stare and smile, all on command. A slave to the camera. He was whatever you wanted him to be.
Every night was gym night. No sugar, just protein and a thick dumbbell. Tuna, vegetables and less than three percent body fat. Don't even think about ice cream. And never mind alcohol. A few drinks, and you'll increase your amount of estrogen. That female hormone, it'll make your body store fat and inhibit muscle growth. Anything with carbohydrates, those are non-foods. You don't eat them, period.
For dinner, he's got a bottle of cold water- cold, because your body expends calories to warm it up in your stomach, and a low fat vegan burger. Just the burger and two fiber supplements, those are perfect for making you feel full. In his cupboard, he's got waiting needles rolling around, clinking together.
Don't even think about drugs. Those will make you too thin. No, every Friday Renji would shoot B12. An extra vitamin kick to keep those energy levels up and boost your immune system. As a bonus, it'll take off a few extra pounds.
In the morning, for breakfast, Renji would eat kelp. Only on Monday mornings though, you don't want any excessive iodine build up. This is how he keeps that unattainable body, that healthy body. You know, the one everyone wants?
Nothing is impossible, just impractical.
The thing they don't tell you, all those male models, what they won't tell you about is peaking. It's a simple fact that nobody looks that good all year round. Not even models. So to trick you, what they do is called peaking. One week before a take, you stop eating sodium.
Salt, it holds fifty times its weight in water. So if you were to eat a pickle, you could be one pound heavier tomorrow. And you've only got seven days until you're in front of that camera; until you've got to be what everyone wants.
For this week, Renji spends forty minutes in the sauna everyday. And during this week, he does all his cardio in two heavy sweatshirts. The day of the shot, he's all muscle definition. All his fluids, that water that clings under your skin, it's all sweated out. He's tired and grumpy and hungry, but damn; just take a look at that cover shoot.
Right now, today, Renji is eating tacos. He sits across the booth from Ichigo, filling his stomach with cheap, greasy meat. He's chewing on cheese, the full fat version not even skim, and crunching the white flour shell between his teeth. It's Taco Time for breakfast. And Ichigo says, "Damn."
He says, "I'm glad it's Tuesday." Taco Tuesday means two dollars a taco. "Renji you eat like a horse."
"Like a man," Renji corrects him and taps his phone. "Mail order," he says. "I ordered one for you yesterday. I couldn't afford anything more than ground shipping."
"That's free shipping," Ichigo says. "That's pathetic." And Renji shrugs.
Other worldly shipping and handling fees were unreal, much worse than international.
"Doesn't mean you aren't working in the meantime. I got a reap for you and since it's your first, I'll go with you."
"You're saying I've got to kill someone?"
Renji nods. "In about twenty minutes. Just down the street."
"Is that why you treated me to breakfast?" Tacos are not breakfast.
Renji nods again. "Someone's gonna kick it at Elma's bakery. And it's your reap."
…
Renji is eating a doughnut. The white powder on his lips is the same color as the bakery walls. In the air a sweet bread smell is at hand and in seven minutes someone is going to die. That pretty ceramic floor, in a moment, blood will probably be split on it. The glass case, the one that displays all the baking, maybe it'll get shattered. Either way, something ugly will happen.
"Always keep your eyes open," Renji says with damp dough rolling into his cheeks. "Look for the warning signs. You want to find the person who's going to die before they die."
"Why?"
"It just makes everything go smoother," he says. "If you know who's going down, you can be in and out of the area faster." He brushes his fingers against his pants, leaving a white powder residue. "Last thing you want," he says, "is to be around when first response gets here."
Ichigo nods. "So what do I look for?"
"Hazards. Personally, I'm always wary of the fighting couple. Angry people, they're unpredictable." He points into the back of the room. "See there? That's the kitchen. All sorts of things can go wrong in a kitchen. So pay close attention."
"Alright," the boy hisses. "What do I do if I get it wrong?"
"What do you mean?"
"If I get the wrong person!"
"Oh. Nothing. Really, you'll just lose time." Renji clicks his tongue, digging pieces of the soggy doughnut from his teeth. "Shinigami don't really kill people. To be really exact, we just break the barrier that keeps a soul inside its body. If we touch a person who's body is dead, then that soul can get out."
Ichigo rubs his eyes. Rubbing them he says, "How am I supposed to guess? This is impossible! Anything could happen."
Just then two men charge through the door. Their heavy boots thump against those pretty ceramic tiles. Over their faces are dark ski masks and in the smaller man's hand is a shiny pistol. Renji points. He says, "hazard."
The men in ski masks look at each other. They say, "You sure about this?" And the other guy says, "trust me." Everyone gets on the floor.
"Renji," Ichigo whispers. Renji just points ahead. His eyes, they say, just wait. The guys in ski masks speak softly to each other. They nod in unison then approach the counter.
"Everything you got, lady," the guy says. He pokes the woman's hand with the tip of the gun. "Come on, come on," he says.
Renji looks at his watch. "Two minutes, Ichigo. These guys look like a complete idiots," he whispers. "My leg is cramping up." Ichigo grinds his molars together. Who is it? Who's getting shot?
Then the woman at the counter, she says, "Johnny?" And the guy in the ski mask jumps.
He says, "Kim?" He lowers the gun to his waist. He says, "Damn, you're looking good. How ya been doing?"
And the other guy, he says, "Dude! What the hell?" He jabs his gun at the woman, at Kim. He shouts, "Put everything you got from the cash in the bag. Do it now!" Kim rolls her eyes.
She says, "Okay, okay. Just don't shoot anyone." And she opens up the register.
Johnny shoves his grimy pistol into his belt, he says, "Look, Kim, I'm real sorry about this." Thirty seconds. "But, hey, maybe later we could," and he stops. He asks, "Are those sirens?"
Everyone on the floor perks up at the sounds of the whining police cars. We're saved. Kim leans into the counter; she puts her tiny, open phone by the register and says, "Sorry Johnny. There is no later."
And Johnny shoots Kim in the head.
"Bitch."
Ichigo is dragging his body across the floor, trying to get behind the counter. Trying to reach poor, overconfident Kim, whose brain is now blown all over the ceramic tile. The guy in the ski mask, he looks over at Ichigo. "Where the fuck are you going?" he asks.
Ichigo's eyes roll onto Kim. There's a huge gaping hole between her eyes. It sucks in her cheeks and nose and leaks blood like a popped pimple. Just a massive gouged pimple on the bridge of her absent nose.
"Hey," Renji says a few feet away, his belly on the floor. "Just take it easy, all right?" Ichigo keeps crawling, he reaches an arm toward Kim and pokes her in the arm. Is that it? Is it done? He glances at Renji.
Both the guys in ski masks are at the window. They try to see how close the police cars are. With their backs turned, Renji and Ichigo start for the kitchen door. Out the back, quick and quiet. Kim's ghost stomps behind them. She's saying, "That fucking jerk! He killed me! Did you see that? He fucking shot me! That fuck-bag!"
One ski mask guy starts yelling at the door. To the cops he yells, "Don't come in here! We have hostages and guns! So if you get any closer, we'll shot them!" One cop just keeps on moving towards the door. "Hey," he's shouting. "I told you not to get close!" The guy in the ski mask, he freaks. He starts pumping bullets into the front door. And the cop runs back to his car. They really did have guns.
The ski mask guy is smiling. He raises his gun up in the air and fires off another bullet. "That's right!" He yells, "that's right!" On the ceiling, there's this big steel vent. That's what the bullet hits when it ricochets.
5. Grab That Gun
Byakuya and Renji have always had a weird relationship. This is what Rukia thinks. She sits on the sofa watching TV, but listens to that rusty fan shake on the nightstand.
When her brother would visit the living world, Renji would disappear. He'd be in the room with her and then poof. Renji was gone. And then her brother would always greet her and ask how things were going. She would say everything was normal and he would ask, "How's Renji?"
Those nights, the nights Byakuya would visit, Renji wouldn't come home. He never said where he went; he just disappeared. This one time, Byakuya was sitting at the table in Renji's stolen flat. He'd said, "Rukia, did you know Renji was a model?" And Rukia didn't believe him. She said Renji simply didn't have the temperament, but Byakuya showed her this magazine. Of course, Rukia laughed. She'd said, oh my god. He looked so pretty. Much thinner. And Byakuya, he'd said, "He still looks pretty."
In the morning Byakuya would return to Soul Society. He'd leave and in a few hours Renji would reappear. For the rest of the day, he didn't say much. He'd sulk around and lay in his bed. Rukia would say, "Stop sulking. It's irritating." And Renji would just hide under the sheets.
This one day, she'd said, "I saw you in a magazine." And Renji didn't respond. She kept talking, she'd said, "I didn't know you were a model. You looked really good."
She'd said, "Not that you don't anymore, but I was just surprised." Renji just groans and turns in the bed. "You didn't have those tattoos either," she said, pointing. "It was so weird." His head is covered with a pillow. "When did you get them? And why so many? And why on your face? You know, they're so distracting that I didn't even notice what a pretty face you had." She smiles and paws at this dress that she'd stolen from a dead socialite's house.
"To remind myself," Renji grumbled from under the sheets. "That's why I got them."
And Rukia asked, "A reminder of what?"
"Not to be what everyone wants." He rolled to the edge of the bed. The sheets pulled from his back and Rukia looks over at him. She looked at the long, fresh red lines dragged across his shoulders, at the imprints of teeth on his ribs that hadn't been there the night before. She looked at the skin, bruised from sucking, that blotted his back and looked away.
Renji, his eyes are jammed shut. He lied there, hating himself and trying to forget. If only he could forget.
Memories are what haunt us.
6. Haunt
Ichigo is shouting, in his arms is Renji's limp body. He shouts for Rukia, for her to come and help him, but there's no answer. No movement. She's not there. The ghost of Kim, she says, "Um, maybe this is a bit selfish… but, I'd like to be filled in. I mean, I am dead right?"
And Ichigo yells, "Rukia!"
Renji's hand is gripping the back of his head, deep in his skull there's a bullet. That bullet that ricocheted off the steel ceiling vent, it hit Renji right on his opisthocranion. They were half out the door and wham. Renji was on the ground.
Now, Ichigo drags Renji into the main room and leaves him on the ground. He starts jumping around, looking through cupboards. His mind is spinning. Kim, she's saying, "Hello? I'm talking to you."
"He got shot in the head!" That's what Ichigo is saying. "Oh god, what do I do? Rukia!"
"I got hit one in the head too," Kim says. "Did you forget? Why are you the only one who can see me?"
Ichigo, he's kneeling down beside Renji. He puts his palm under the man's head and lifts it slightly. Renji's long hair sticks to the floor. The blood starts clotting and turning dark and Ichigo swallows air. He says, "Renji. Renji, come on. Renji."
"Hello?" Kim is saying.
Ichigo's jaw is clenching. He needs for Renji to open his eyes, for him to talk, for him to look at Ichigo with those golden, amber eyes and say something. Anything. Just wake up.
Don't you leave me alone. I couldn't stand being alone.
So wake up.
And he does. Renji, he says, "that fucking hurt." And instantly, Ichigo's arms come around the man's bloody neck. His cheek is pressed against his.
Ichigo is saying, "thank god."
And Renji's eyes are almost popping out of his head. Ichigo is hugging him. The boy's chest is lying tightly next to his. Renji says, "Um," he says, "Ichigo?" And the boy pulls away.
"I thought you were going to die."
"I already died, remember?"
"Yeah, but, I thought you were going to do it again."
"No," Renji says. "No, you don't do something like that again. Dying," he says, "it's a one time thing. Where's Kim?" They look behind them. The room is empty except for them.
"Passed on?" Ichigo says, hopes.
…
Renji has his shirt off. He's in front of the sink. Drops of water roll down the curves of his back. Ichigo is behind him, sitting, using the toilet like a chair; watching. Renji runs a thin comb through his hair. Bringing it over the sink, he picks out the dark clots of blood and rinses them down the drain. He shakes out his damp hair. Through the mirror he sees Ichigo stand up. "Pass me a towel," Renji says, "please?"
And Ichigo doesn't move. Renji frowns and turns. He reaches around Ichigo, who is in his way. His fingers don't quite touch the cloth he's reaching for. He tries to step around the boy, but Ichigo leans into him. Renji looks down to him, at the orange mess of hair. Ichigo's eyes are lowered and shy. Then his nose touches softly against Renji's.
Renji stops reaching and takes a step to the side. Ichigo's nose nudges against his cheek again and he freezes. Ichigo's face, it gets a little closer. It keeps coming closer until Renji feels the boy's lips press onto his. He doesn't move; he just stands there and Ichigo pulls away slightly. His breath is hot against Renji's face. Ichigo's nose touches against his chin. Their bodies are standing too close together.
Ichigo's lips touch up against Renji's again, but only for a second before he turns his vision back onto the floor. That's when Renji's hand grabs his face. That's when their lips meet again; their mouths open and moving, taking in air from gaps of their lips.
And Ichigo's legs are pressed against the edge of the bath. Renji gives him a push and the boy falls into the grimy tub. His knees hang over the edge and his face is beyond your ordinary expression of shock. Renji, he's standing with the towel over his shoulder, grinning. He says, "you sure get in the way a lot," his teeth showing, gleaming with that winning smile. As if in any minute, there will be a camera flash.
That practiced grin, it falls from his face and he leaves the bathroom. Leaves Ichigo, folded and bowled over in the tub. And that grin, Renji's confident grin, it doesn't fool anybody. In his eyes, what's shining is not confidence.
What's shining is fear, bright and ordinary.
…
Renji, if you ask him about ghosts, he'll tell you that memories are the only real ghosts. It's what you can't forget that haunts you. It's these bits of recollection that are constantly reminding you, these he'll say, are the real ghosts.
He'll say that souls, those walking dead people, they've got nothing on memories. They don't directly interfere with you. Memories, whether they're of people or what they've done to you, they are your ghosts.
They follow you around and jiggle your chandeliers. If your blinds are rattling, or your piano keys dipping, or maybe all your channels are static, those are your memories. Memories, he'll say, it's all a mind thing. They're the ones that fuck with your head.
If you're feeling fingers on your body, skin on your skin, or a tongue in your mouth and it all feels right. You feel home. And you'll feel happy just feeling his fingers, skin and tongue; But this is where ghosts come in. This is when you remember what fingers can do. What tongues and skin and bodies can really do.
You feel the ghost of someone else's tongue, someone else's body. And suddenly, it's not Ichigo who's touching you; it's him. It's all those memories of him. Yeah, Renji will say, it's memories that haunt you.
When Rukia comes in, dragging her feet through the doorway, she sighs. She undoes the black leather straps at her ankle, and shouts for attention. "Renji! Ichigo," she calls them over and over. Finally Ichigo comes around the corner.
He says, "Renji's out reaping."
"Oh," and she places her little shoes on the mat. She says, "Ichigo, then can you rub my feet? I've been standing all day."
So on the sofa, Ichigo starts kneading her feet with his knuckles. "It's the shoes you wear," he says. "Too tight and small."
Rukia just sighs. "You wouldn't get it. You're not a woman." And she rethinks her words. "Or a cross dresser."
"Would you like that?" Ichigo asks, "if I were a cross dresser?" He works his thumbs into the arches of her foot.
"I don't think you have the face for it, honestly," she says. "Your jaw is too square."
"I wouldn't do it anyway," he says.
This is when Renji comes through the doorway. His eyes are squinty and his mouth tight. He growls, "Somebody blew himself up in the subway station." Renji's clothes are tattered and stained with charcoal. His face is smudged with ash, and a million tiny globules of flesh are stuck to his skin. His upper lip curls into a snarl. "A minute before this guy explodes, I get ten more text messages. Ten more people are going to die." He slams the door behind him. "So this maniac explodes and takes the whole damn place with him. I was stuck under sheets of metal and support rods because the damn blast wrecks the fucking ceiling. And then after I finally get out, guess what I've got to do!" And he waits for one of the shinigami to respond.
Rukia says, "what?"
"I've got to look for the bodies. All eleven. And of course, they're buried under every frickin' thing imaginable. And the bomb guy, I reaped him from his teeth. His fucking tooth that hit me in the face, that's what I popped his soul from. I had to dig it out of my cheek!" His arms start waving around. "By the time I'm done there, I've got an undead army behind me. The whole time they're fighting and screaming. I had to pull this one woman off of the bomb guy!" His arms fall to his side, his brows relaxing. "And I took the bus home."
Rukia and Ichigo stare, just staring with these blank faces.
"And you know what else," Renji says. "I've got ten percent body fat."
Rukia hides her smile with a frown. She says, "Renji, don't worry. That's not that much. That's not much at all." And Renji brings a hand over his eyes.
"I'm going to go running. I'm going to take a shower and go running," he says and disappears into the bathroom. Once they hear the water running, Ichigo and Rukia laugh. They laugh their hearts out. They laugh so hard that their abdomens hurt.
Ichigo, he's almost choking. He says, "I had no idea he was concerned about that!" He holds his jerking stomach. "Does he think he's fat?" And Rukia nods, her lips stretched into a smile. "Well, the way he eats, I never would have guessed," he takes a breath of air, "that he," and he laughs, "would care." And he falls back the sofa trying to recover. Rukia grabs his arm.
She says, "let me show you something." And she lifts up a cushion, pawing underneath. In her hands is the slippery paper of a fashion magazine. She flips through the pages, "don't tell him I showed you this."
7. Memory Jog
Renji is lying on the floor. His bare stomach pressed against the cool touch. "Did you have a good run?" Ichigo asks from the table. Renji doesn't look up. He's trying to pull the plastic from the top of a yogurt cup. Fat free, only fifty calories. Ichigo, he calls it 'girl yogurt'.
Renji says, "no. It's bloody hot outside." And he licks the yogurt from the shiny lid. It's so watery, so skim, that he drinks it. "I used to know these girls," he says. "That would drink vinegar to shrink their stomachs."
"That's disgusting." Ichigo's feet drum against the floor as he walks over to Renji, and the empty yogurt cup. He sits in front of the man and drops a piece of bacon on the floor. Renji looks at it. It's only an inch from his nose. "Eat it," Ichigo commands, pushing it closer.
Renji pushes himself to his knees. "Don't want it," he says.
"That's impossible," Ichigo scoffs. "You love bacon. You love anything greasy."
"Don't want it."
Ichigo glowers. "Want something else, a doughnut maybe? You have to eat more than that. If you want, we can go to Taco Time." Renji snarls and crawls into Ichigo's lap. "Or McDonald's," he says and Renji pushes Ichigo onto the floor. "Or we could go to New York Fries."
"No," Renji says, sitting on Ichigo's waist. He pins the boy underneath him and leans forward.
"Are you serious?" Ichigo says, ignoring Renji's hot breath on his neck. "You don't even want poutine?"
"No, I don't want poutine," he says, his lips moving against the boy's skin. He drags his tongue along Ichigo's lips.
"You know, Renji," Ichigo says. "This doesn't count as a breakfast."
Something bounces off Renji's head. He tears his lips away from Ichigo and swears. "Goddamn it, Renji!" It's Rukia. In her hands are cookies. Yes, three chocolate chip cookies. The fourth, it lies on the floor next to Ichigo's face. The boy reaches up and brushes away its crumbs from Renji's hair. "You always get so horny when you're on a diet!"
"Did you throw a cookie at me?" Renji asks. Rukia blinks. Renji lifts himself off of Ichigo and grabs the cookie from the floor. He shoves it in his mouth and walks into the bathroom.
"Do you think he's angry?" she asks. And Ichigo shrugs. He motions toward the direction in which Renji left.
"He just ate a cookie."
"Yes," Rukia says. "That's almost as weird as you seducing him with talk about fast food." Her phone rings abruptly.
"Mine still hasn't come in yet," Ichigo says, looking at the slim, black phone in Rukia's hands.
"It's my brother," she says.
"You have a brother?"
"Yeah. Looks like you're going to meet him too."
"Is he dead?" he asks carefully.
"Ichigo," she says.
"Yeah?"
"I died in 1938."
"Right," he says. "So he's dead?"
"Yes, quite. Actually," she says. "He's the guy who sends the messages. He's the one who writes down the time and address of all our reaps."
Ichigo pales. "He… decides when… then he wrote down when I died?"
Rukia nods. "Yeah, but he doesn't decide who dies. He just gets the list and writes it all down; and sends it to us, the shinigami."
"You're brother, when's he coming?"
"Tomorrow."
I AM FILLED WITH RIGHTEOUS ANGER.
Also,
14-17 percent body fat is considered fit for a man. 10 percent borderlines on athletic/ scary athletic.
Drinking vinegar is more likely to make you sick than help your diet. So don't try it.
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