The Sun and the Moon

Chapter 7

"Leek, vinegar, fish, soy sauce…"

Orihime ran through her grocery shopping list over and over again in her head. Every time she found herself dwelling on a particularly depressing topic which involved a certain orange-haired man, she recalled the ingredients of her new recipe again, but the method had been getting less and less effective as of late.

Carrying the heavy grocery-laden plastic bags in her hands, Orihime walked down the road quietly. No matter how hard she tried, she could not erase that voice replaying itself over and over again in her head.

"Do you think, Inoue, that by doing all this for me… I will suddenly proclaim my undying love to you?"

Orihime slapped her face with her free hand. "Ahh! Too depressing! Don't be like this, Orihime!" And she continued to walk determinedly towards her apartment. She now lived in Kagamino too, where she found a job as a pre-school teacher, something she enjoyed immensely. Everyone thought she had done it for Kurosaki-kun's sake, but the truth was that she truly loved her new job. Nonetheless, being this close to the object of her affections did not make her life any easier.

Memories of their previous encounter drifted to her mind once again. She was nearing her apartment now, where she lived on the third floor. Looking up, the sight of the unmistakeably orange hair of the man standing at the gate stopped her dead on her tracks.

Across the distance, Ichigo met her gaze sheepishly.

Slowly, Orihime continued walking towards him, avoiding his gaze. As she approached nearer, he finally said, "Inoue."

Orihime chided herself for lacking the willpower to walk past him without acknowledging his presence. She stopped right at the doorstep of the apartment block, her back facing him.

Ichigo scratched his head absent-mindedly, thinking of what to say next. He had come to see her out of courtesy, knowing that their previous encounter had him acting like a jerk. "Uh… Inoue…"

"You are going to say 'Gomen nasai, Inoue', ne, Kurosaki-kun?" Orihime started, her face hidden from his view.

"But you will still say that you can never love me back." This time, she turned around, her face wearing the most curious expression. Ichigo was at a loss for words. Perhaps it was inconsiderate of him to call on her right now, after all.

"It's okay, Kurosaki-kun," Orihime continued, her lips now forcing a small smile. "I am not going to hope anymore. I hope we will still be good friends, though, Kurosaki-kun. Demo… For now, I think… I would be happier if I didn't see you at all."

Ichigo stared at her for a while, then sighed in understanding. "You're right."

With that, Orihime proceeded to climb up the stairs carrying her grocery, fighting every urge and desire then and there to plead with Kurosaki-kun with such desperation, as if it would move his heart; but Orihime knew that from the start she had lost to Kuchiki-san. No, she would chide herself bitterly sometimes, how could she have lost when she never had the chance to begin with?

"We will always be nakama, Inoue."

Ichigo's serious but sincere tone broke through Orihime's thoughts and there was a moment's hesitation in her steps. However, without turning back, she quickly disappeared up the stairs.

Ichigo stared at the stairs landing and gave a sigh. Great. He had once again succeeded in alienating another one of his friends. As if Ishida hating his guts now was not enough trouble for Ichigo, he was pretty sure he would not be seeing much of Orihime nowadays. The Quincy had disapproved greatly, as did everyone else, of Ichigo's actions during the Great Arrancar War in Hueco Mundo, even though their other friends like Chad, understood the dire circumstances he was put in. It did not help either that Orihime was madly in love with Ichigo, whom Ishida regarded as unworthy of even the slightest of her affections. Ichigo was sure then that the Quincy's hatred for him would only increase once the latter had caught wind of his latest treatment towards Orihime.

As he was about to leave the compound through the gate, he suddenly sensed a familiar reiatsu. It was only a split second, but it overwhelmed his whole being completely at that instant, stopping him dead on his tracks. The reiatsu definitely belonged to –

No, it can't be.

Ichigo looked around his surroundings. People were going about their business in their usual manner. A car sped past him, and across the road a group of youngsters were speaking animatedly as they walked on the pavement. Everything looked normal, as normal as Kagamino should be.

Blocking out the unanswered questions in his mind, Ichigo made his way back to the hospital.

Ichigo thought he might die from the vivid throbbing in his head; it felt as if a herd of bison was using his head as a stampeding ground.

It's my fault. If I hadn't been gone for so long…

The orange-haired doctor attempted in vain to stem the stabs of guilt and self-deprecating sentiments threatening to overflow in his heart. It wasn't his fault, his mind reassured himself, for he had tried his best. Upon his return from Orihime's apartment, he was immediately greeted by a panic-stricken Nurse Mashima, who informed him that his patient, a young boy called Takumi was in a critical condition. "His vital signs were quickly deteriorating over the hour, Kurosaki-sensei. We tried paging you, but when you haven't returned in fifteen minutes…"

Ichigo had made a mistake in forgetting to bring his beeper along when he left the hospital. He had examined the boy earlier that morning, and when he had assured himself that the boy's vital signs had stabilized long enough, he thought it would be all right if he made a quick trip to Inoue's.

However, Nurse Mashima had barely finished explaining to him the boy's condition, when the emergency alarm in the boy's ward sounded, followed by another nurse calling out frantically for help. They had lost the patient's heartbeat and pulse. Ichigo immediately performed an emergency resuscitation, trying to keep his cool despite panic welling up within him. "Takumi, come on, Takumi…" repeated Ichigo like a prayer, as he desperately pumped the defibrillators on the boy's chest in hope of reviving the boy. A minute or two had passed, until finally he caught sight of the broken Chain of Fate which hung on the chest of the boy, who was now standing by the bedside and looking in horror at his own broken body. It was then that Ichigo knew it was over.

He threw the equipment aside roughly and placed his hands on the bed for support, staring at the dead boy's body. Beads of sweat trickled down Ichigo's face, the high-pitched sound accompanying the flat line of the heartbeat monitor was all he could hear. Behind him, he heard one of the junior nurses let out a strangled sob, unable to hold back her emotions.

"Kurosaki-sensei?"

Ichigo looked up at the dead boy's spirit, who held the bewildered and frightened look he had so many times seen on the faces of all the patients he had failed to save. It was a look which wrenched Ichigo's heart from his body. Heaving an audible sigh of frustration, the orange-haired doctor diverted his gaze on the clock hanging on the wall. "Time of death, 8:23PM."

With that he had stormed out of the ward and sat himself on one of the hospital corridor benches, hoping to pull himself together before his emotions got out of hand. Ichigo had been practising medicine for almost five years after medical school now, and his profession required him to deal with death quite often; after all death was an inevitable occurrence in a place like the hospital. Indeed, Ichigo saw every week the deaths of at least one of the patients under his care. As doctors, they had been taught to not let the guilt overwhelm in these circumstances, especially when they have tried their best to preserve their patients' lives. Nevertheless, every death hit him as just as badly as the first, and this time was no different.

Raking his hand through his messy hair, he straightened himself up in his seat, attempting in vain to expel all the negative emotions together with the air from his lungs. He felt a comforting hand rest on his shoulder. It was Takada Yosuke.

"The parents are at the lobby, Ichigo."

The orange-haired doctor did not need to ask exactly what he had to do. He had to carry out the painful task of breaking the horrible news to relatives one time too many. Standing up from his seat, he slowly trudged his way down the corridor, his trademark scowl a mask for the dread he was feeling towards the impending task. However, the slump of his shoulders did not go unnoticed by the other young doctor.

"It wasn't your fault, Ichigo," he heard Takada shout down the corridor to him.

Ichigo knew it was not his fault; he could not have possibly predicted the sudden deterioration of the boy's health when his vital signs looked perfectly healthy hours before. But his heart still weighed heavy with guilt and remorse.

Finally, he reached the lobby where the boy's parents waited, the worry etched on their faces. He had seen them many times, for Takumi's chronic illness was also congenital. The boy's mother was clasping her hands nervously, while her husband had his right arm around her shoulders in a placating manner. The man saw Ichigo first, then his wife looked up, her face lighting up upon seeing the young doctor, as if she was extremely delighted to see her son's savior. Ichigo steadied himself as he approached the couple.

"How is our son, Sensei?"

Ichigo dropped his eyes, unable to look in the eyes the parents of the boy whose life he failed to save. It seemed he did not need to answer that question for the couple understood immediately what the gesture meant; the boy's mother erupted into tears, her husband catching her in time and holding her up in support.

Ichigo groped around for the appropriate words to say, but nothing seemed appropriate enough without sounding insincere. He went instead with an earnest apology, together with a deep bow. "I'm really sorry, Waseda-san."

However, when he looked up the boy's father looked up at him in utmost anger. "You told us our son was all right this morning, and now you're telling us that… that our son is…" Waseda-san looked almost as though he was about to strike the young doctor, and quite frankly at that moment, Ichigo welcomed the impending blow, but it did not come. The man gave Ichigo an intense stare, the pure hatred with which his eyes burned Ichigo would never forget.

Ichigo looked away, unable to take it any longer. "We tried our best, Waseda-san."

It was then that Ichigo felt it best to make himself scarce; the Wasedas would probably feel better if he did not linger in their presence further. He walked determinedly towards the first door he could reach, finding himself in one of the emergency staircases. Running down the stairs and opening the door hastily, his lungs screamed in gratitude as they filled with the fresh air outside the hospital building.

Ichigo simply stood there for minutes, simply breathing and staring at the black spotless sky overhead. A bright full moon hung on the dark horizon, but apart from the lone celestial body hardly any stars marked the sky.

His veins still pumping with adrenaline from the recent stressful events, Ichigo fished out a cigarette pack from inside his pristine white coat. Lighting a stick using a lighter from his pocket, he took a puff from the cigarette, its grey smoke filling his lungs and steadying his nerves. He had taken up the vice sometime in the last ten years – since he returned to the living world, he reminded himself mirthlessly – something he was sure his father would disapprove of if he found out his own son had taken after his own bad habits.

"Sensei?"

The small juvenile voice almost startled him out of his thoughts. The sight of the young boy's spirit sitting on the hedge across him, staring at him curiously, reminded him again of the horrible events of the day which he had for a moment in his contemplation forgotten. "I thought you said I shouldn't smoke when I get older because smoking is bad."

The doctor seemed to ignore the boy's innocent question, for he disregarded the boy's presence for the next five minutes, putting out the stub with his shoe and lighting another stick. However, Ichigo replied nonchalantly later, "You're not going to get older, anyway."

The boy's face contorted into a sad frown, as if he had just realized the obvious fact the doctor just pointed out. He seemed to ponder on this revelation for a moment, then he asked, "What's going to happen now, sensei?"

"Am I going to… to heaven?"

Ichigo met the frightened gaze of the young boy, who looked as if he was about to cry but was trying to keep up a tough front. Ichigo tried his best not to form emotional attachments with his patients, for it often made parting on such occasions difficult, but the boy had been under his charge since he was first diagnosed five years ago. Ichigo was rough in his conversations with the boy, so unlike other more placating doctors, but the boy seemed to have taken to liking Ichigo and even looked up to the doctor.

"It's a place called Soul Society." It was not exactly what Ichigo considered "heaven", thus he felt it best not to sugar-coat the truth by lying to the boy.

"S-soul s-society?"

"A shinigami should be coming around any minute now to take you there."

"S-shini… gami? What are they, sensei?"

At that moment, a vision of a certain black-haired shinigami flashed in Ichigo's mind. In his frustration, wanting as soon as possible to escape the boy's questions and the memories they raked up, he quickly answered, "They're usually midgets in black kimono."

"M-midgets?"

Ichigo did not bother to correct himself; he put out the stub of his second cigarette and started to make his way back into the building. The boy opened his mouth in further questions, but Ichigo waved him away, "Run off, already!"

But Takumi was determined to not let Kurosaki-sensei leave him there. The doctor had just yanked open the door through which he came through earlier, when he suddenly stopped in his actions, his hand still on the door handle and staring out of the corner of his eye towards a different direction. Takumi followed the man's line of vision and found himself staring merely at a clump of bushes and the stationary cars on the hospital's carpark behind. "S-sensei?"

The boy glanced back at the doctor, who was now staring intently at his hand on the door handle. "I'm sorry, Takumi."

The boy blinked back in confusion. "Bye," Ichigo said, then pushed the door open and disappeared into the building before Takumi could even ask him more questions.