living corpse Chapter 5: things you hide, a bleach fanfic

Fingers twist on the curled cord, tangled up in plastic and cold on her skin.

Really, she should buy a new and modern home phone, like Ichigo says, but there's a certain comfort that's attached to the old design, despite limiting the distance that she can walk. Besides, it gives her something to do while she chats with her friends, absentmindedly doing something while the television switches on and she rests her legs on another chair as she patiently waits for the coffeemaker to work.

It may be old-fashioned, but it's homely – and that's what she wants.

After all, she is expecting someone special to be joining them soon.

Ring, ring. Ring, ring.

"Aw, pick up already."

Ring, ring. Ring, ring.

"Really, you shouldn't shut yourself out. All grief and no play makes Shirou-chan a very—"

"… hello?"

"Yay, you picked up the phone!" She claps twice just to reinforce her point, quick and jumpy like a child overjoyed at getting the answer right. Maybe it's the hormones. When all else fails, blame the hormones.

"Oh, it's just you, Bed wetter Momo."

No matter what, he can wipe the smile off her face with that grumbling voice of his.

"… I resent that."

Pouting is inevitable.

It's… nice.

This warm and comfortable feeling that has slipped through their conversation – the bubbly teasing, the sardonic grumbling, but then, such was their talk. She had given him a nickname, he'd use her most humiliating secret against her, she'd ruffle his hair and he'd trip her up, tugging her pigtails on the way. And then they'd hug, because they were like siblings, and 'fights' like that were not uncommon to end with hugs, because she was the girly-girl and he was the standoffish boy and would allow some of his emotion to seep through that hug, understood telepathically. At least, that's what Shirou-chan's grandmother would always say, a slight twinkle in her eye.

But they weren't like that. They weren't made for each other in this life. In another life, perhaps, fate would be kind and allow Cupid to pierce their hearts with a single blow of his arrow, causing them to fall irrevocably in love.

Not this one, however. After all, she has Ichigo and he… well… he has friends, friends who care and try to look out for him.

And besides, if they were meant to be together, then surely, that one watermelon kiss would have meant so much more.

He sighs.

"Of course you do."

"Mou… enough already. You sound tired. Were you just sleeping? Did I wake you up?" Question quickly rise, spilling from her mouth like a waterfall, unable to stop as the current pours down the rocks and cliff, splashing as materials collide and shatter apart. Eyes wide and mouth unable to close, she interrogates him without getting an answer, her hand curling and uncurling the coils of the phone cord.

"Are you done?"

"Oh. Um… yes?" She blinks, glancing at the television screen and decides that it's not worth it – conversation with Shirou-chan is far more interesting than the news.

"I wasn't sleeping."

"Says the man who sounds like an absolute grouch monster." Eyebrows furrow, her voice disbelieving and incredulous. She leans forward, pressing her ear closer to the phone, if only to cling to the memory of the boy who once wasn't made of icy glass, who wasn't stuck in a wilderness that has frozen his heart.

What happened to the boy that actually wore a smile on his face and who was the childish midget that both got them into trouble and had a good time, actually happy in life?

He died, along with his sweetheart in that crash, six months ago.

But she hopes, always believing in the best of others, that her childhood friend can be found once more. Currently, he's just sleeping, comatose maybe, and will be woken up by a kiss, like the fairytales say, with a happily-ever-after not far behind.

After all, everybody deserves a chance at happiness. And just because he loves too much, too fiercely and too wholeheartedly, it doesn't mean that he can live the rest of his life like a zombie, devoid of love and life.

No matter what happens, there's always hope, and Hinamori Momo will never stop believing in the people she loves.

"So, what do you want?" Shirou-chan finally asks, breaking away from their standard routine.

"The question is: what's happened to you?"

"…"

"Don't give me the silence treatment, mister – don't hang up either!" Arching her eyebrow and pointing her entangled finger really doesn't help since they're far apart, but it helps her feel like she's reinforced her point – despite the fact that he can see none of this. "Seriously. You haven't been picking up my calls lately and… besides, you only really pick up the phone if there's something you need to talk about. Try and escape this one."

"… it's a long story."

She beams, glad for the slight improvement of his grouchy behaviour.

For a second, Momo wonders if he can sense her smile on the other side of the line.

She is his best friend. She is his soul-mate. She is his box of chocolates and his umbrella on a rainy day.

She is the person who makes sure that he'll be okay, after everything has been said and done.

She is everything and anything but not his lover.

And she's his first kiss, and nothing can ever take that away.

Of course he can, he knows her as well as she knows him.

And so, she thinks, that the words she's about to say is already known in his mind.

"Well, don't worry, I've got time."

living corpse
5 : things you hide

Step. Stagger. Lurch.

And giggle.

Laugh like you've never known before because you're too proud to let go of a world that can only be visited in memories and dreams, daydreams and nightmares.

Push those blurry hands off the floor.

Stand up and look tall, because you don't belong anywhere.

… just try not to vomit in the graveyard. Again.

While talking to the dead is one thing, disrespecting the dead is another.

Especially since a hoard of them prefer to angst in the shadow of their former selves.

"Kami-sama! Will you shut up already?"

In the swirl of drunkenness and loss of control to gain her bearings, the voices that she hears but cannot see – stupid ghosts – it is the invisible and the unknown that guide her in this wilderness.

Well, excuse me! I'm not the drunk one here. One shrill voice speaks.

"Yeah, because the dead can drink themselves into oblivion when they feel like shit." She snaps back, a sharp pain to the head.

She doesn't need to take this kind of crap.

… but she does need to find Rukia's grave.

Well, at least we're not the ones destroying our liver. A more placid voice replies, kinder and gentle, different than before. Can we help you?

"I'm looking for a grave."

Yeah. Aren't we all? Voice number one – the shrill speaker spits outs. Gin-san still can't find his.

"Fascinating story, I'm sure." Her mouth is either smiling painfully or twitching to keep her mouth shut, failing spectacularly. "Tell it to me when I give a damn."

Quiet. Voice number two – the negotiator firmly says. Perhaps he's speaking to both of them, two bitches in different forms. Go on…

"Kuchiki Rukia's. It's somewhere near… the details are lost on me."

Crap.

Her head really hurts. And the world will not stop spinning.

Oh, I know her grave. Voice number three – chirpy and annoying, but obvious bubbling with good intent, decides to speak up. It's that way.

Must not destroy gravestones. Repeat. Must not destroy gravestones.

Incidentally, that smile – or that vein, actually – should stop twitching.

It's scaring the ghosts, or amusing them, and irritating the hell out of you.

"Okay." Her hands are moving uncontrollably, most likely trying to strangle that ghost-child; and her mouth is blending into a smile and a frown. "I can't see you. And I'm not getting my mirror out. So don't say 'it's that way' and point – or wave – whichever you prefer – because I – can't – see – you."

At this point, she's jabbing the air, and gouging the eyes of voice number one, just for emphasis. Or so she hopes.

Oh. Right. Um… well, it's the one up that hill and on the first row. You can read and figure the rest out.

"Uh-huh." And a smile spreads onto her face, easily transient when drunk. "Well thank you very much. Tell me your story some time."

Mind that—

"Dammit!" She pouts before disentangling herself from the very comfortable or is the word uncomfortable tombstone.

—grave…

So, what do you think?

I think we've got ourselves a prize idiot. Going to visit someone drunk, the nerve…

You don't think that's a bit more dignified than your teddy bear related death?

… shut up.

I thought so. I'm going to get Rukia.

"You really think she's okay?" Yuzu asks, fingers drumming on the driving wheel.

"I… I'm not sure." Ichigo replies, not moving from the car seat. "Karin, yeah, she acts strong, likes to put up a big front and act like everything is fine. At first, that's how it seems. She brushes it off, shrugs, and smiles."

"But then, she's always had that kind of smile, when…" Yuzu murmurs, submerged in memories that consist of her sister and the events that happen afterwards; she recalls the blank expression of her sister, and the seemingly cold and uncaring aura, like static that crackles after the storm when everything else has been burnt and disintegrated into the ground and the promise of a clean slate lingers in the air as she smirks and walks in a direction where only she knows.

"Just before…" Like chasing ghosts, Ichigo too recalls those bittersweet memories. "And then suddenly, from out of the blue, she returns. Like everything's wonderful in her life. And then she snaps, and it's as if that episode of her life is over. But… it's odd. Normally, she doesn't listen to a simple request. Normally, she doesn't answer the phone."

"So, what do you think happened?" Yuzu leans back, musing in her inquisitive mind.

He shrugs, acting indifferent but focusing on his youngest sister. "I don't know."

It's like hide and seek, the unsolved jigsaw puzzle that misses a piece, or several. The clues are there, but oddly distorted to suit the point of view needed, as if the jigsaw pieces are like mannequins instead and the clothes that have been cast upon them are just lies. But no one is willing to look at the bare naked plastic truth, and so the clothes remain.

For now.

"Well, at least she hasn't said those words yet. That means something, right?" Yuzu asks, always one to search for the light in the darkness.

That smile. Those words. The little things she leaves behinds before the night swallows her whole.

"Yeah… I guess it does." Ichigo looks at Yuzu and grins, his lips curled in a half-snicker, half-frown. "Now, I bet you want to go home and…"

"… not look like a sleepy head?" Heat rises to her cheeks as the memory of the surprised till boy and his slow reaction to her. The things she does for family. She tilts her head as she inspects her older brother's face. "How much did you pay and what was the bet?"

A laugh. "You know us too well. Fifty yen. That you wouldn't notice your 'state' until after you left the store."

Her cheeks have turned to scarlet, her mouth ajar. "Ne, I'm not that much of a ditz! I knew… before! While I was driving the car."

She's a terrible liar, and they both know it.

"Of course, Yuzu."

"So, um. What do we do now?" Yuzu asks as she directs the car to the old Kurosaki residence.

"Besides ignoring the fire?" Ichigo's gaze flickers to the smoke that still lingers. "… I'd say we should wait. And I'll collect her later."

"Okay." Yuzu hugs her big brother, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Love you."

"Love you too, squirt." Ichigo shifts into the driver's seat. "Now get, before the old man actually destroys something in our house."

The mirror is cracked and crooked as it rests on the wrong grave. Then again, it doesn't actually need the right grave for the 'talk' to take place, but Karin has lived a good deal of her life with Yuzu that Yuzu's habit of 'everything needs its place' has become her own habit, if a tad more lazy than the extremities that Yuzu has. Besides, talking to Kaa-chan and Rukia are two different things, especially if one has moved on and the other hasn't.

She was standing up on her own two feet a minute ago, and as easily as her head drops, so do her legs, buckling under the pressure, knobbly knees scraping against the hard tarmac and faded jeans.

And the sky, though darkening, scatters away all her hopes and dreams into nothing but mortuary stars and shades of red, twinkling brightly against the burgundy blue.

Though Kurosaki Karin is not near the sea, the smell of sea salt and the bittersweet flavour of sadness and myrrh can be tasted on her lips.

Patience is slowly wearing thin, and just as she is about to open her mouth, someone else beats her to it.

You fool. What are you doing?

Karin turns to the sound of the voice, her blue eyes a mixture of amusement and despair and the corners of her lips slightly upturned.

"You're the fool, Rukia. What took so long?"

And as the tension dissipates, her grin spreads, and she laughs, shoulders rising and falling, because there's nothing else she can do. And for that moment, Rukia joins her.

Because that's what crazy people who know the Kurosakis do.

The silence that follows last only for a second, breaking like glass when Karin speaks, still in a sluggish stupor, standing up and only just regaining her balance, still dancing on the edge, daring to fall over again.

"What happened? To all those goals that you decided so long ago, to the days when you were gonna take over the world?" Arms spread wide, she flails, asking the questions that have been bottling up within her, staggering to the left. "What happened to your crush on Ichigo? What happened to that promise we made in high school? The one where—"

Voice choked, she cannot continue. It hurts too much to talk.

Rukia looks down, at the girl who she shared high school with, at the girl who's barely restraining her tears, at the girl who's guilty at what she's done.

I'm sorry. Her voice is a little more than a whisper.

"Don't be, if anything I – I should be the sorry one." Karin stumbles forward, passing through Rukia's arm, catching a glance at her through the cracked mirror. "If it helps, you look pretty good for a dead person."

But of course, I am a Kuchiki! We always 'look good', dead or alive. Haughty, she cannot resist theatrics, posing while she speaks.

Karin laughs, thick black tresses sliding into her eyes. "Damn straight. You haven't changed a bit." She falls back, landing on the ground, a silly grin adorned on her face. "That's good to know, at least."

But still I—

"I know." Wistfulness seeps into her blue eyes, and Karin doesn't need the mirror to know the general direction of where the ghost stands, the murmured reflection knowledge enough. Dismayed, she slowly sobers. "You stayed. Why?"

… I love him.

"… why?" Again, Kurosaki Karin asks, unable to comprehend that simple fact. "Why Hitsugaya Toushirou, of all people?" Anger flushes onto her cheeks, blotchy against her pale complexion. "That stupid, stuck up jerk!"

Her hand hurts, but if it's bleeding, then it doesn't particularly matter and she's too drunk to care.

Karin… Rukia reaches out, flinching as Karin swipes her arms, clumsily backing away as her back makes contact with another grave. Listen…

"No! I won't! I don't want to!" Tears are falling from her eyes, and she lets them. She's not afraid to cry, but she won't let the blurred vision get in her way. She doesn't care if she makes a ruckus, so long as she's heard. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

I know… I know, Karin. Sighing, Rukia places herself next to the sobbing girl.

"And you know what the worst part is: that no matter how many times I say it, you still won't come back to life. And it's… it's all my fault." Her arms are around her knees, and there's nothing more than the feeling of acting like a spoilt child, self-loathing, and the desire to curl up into a small ball.

What's done is done. You can't undo the past. She tries to wipe away the tears off the younger girl's face, even though she knows that it's futile. Besides, I forgive you.

I just want you to smile again.

"… but you still won't move on." Legs uncurling, and stretching, it's a sad truth. Refusing to look up, she glances at the mirror on the ground, noticing the ghost girl beside her with anxious eyes. She tries to lean on her, aiming for her shoulder, and meeting the cold surface of the floor instead. "I suppose this is what I get for spilling my soul out to a ghost."

And Rukia chuckles, eyebrows lifted in amusement and exasperation. You really are a fool.

"I'll listen, this time. I'll be quiet. I'll be good." Eyes fluttering shut, Karin succumbs to the drowsy feeling, vulnerable like a helpless child.

Someone needs to take care of him… and I'm not that person. Not anymore.

"I'll look after him, for you." She whispers, voice growing faint, as her consciousness drifts. "I owe you that much."

There are tears glimmering on Kuchiki Rukia's eyelashes, and the only thing she can do is stroke Karin's dark hair, black with grief.

No. You don't owe me a thing.

Ichigo stumbles across the dead body, snoring away as he calls his pregnant girlfriend and Hitsugaya.

"She fell asleep. Classy." He notes, scratching his head, as the other two approach them.

"I guess that means she's skipping dinner." Momo replies. "Oh well."

"Remind me why I'm doing this?" The snow-white-haired man asks, bored and slightly unsettled. It's not everyday that he finds someone sleeping beside the grave of his girlfriend.

"Because, she's my sister, and she hasn't got a place to stay. That's where we come in. You're supposed to be having dinner with us, and to make sure that you're not a freeloader, you're the one who's going to carry this special deadweight to the car."

"Okay! On three, you pick her up." Momo cheers. "Three!"

Karin's head lolls onto his chest as Hitsugaya's arms adjust around her, finding a steady grip. There is a frown on his face, though he does not complain.

"Mission accomplished. Now, let's go eat!"

The car journey would have been alright, if Karin, blissfully unconscious, hadn't drooled on Toushirou's shoulder.