Sayuri did not know why she had risen so early that day, why her feet had brought her to the kitchen before the sun had lit the sky. All she knew was that something compelled her, something that was more than just a deep-seated desire to make breakfast for Toshiro.
The room was silent but for the sound of her breath, and the hum of the refrigerator. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting from the pot was the only indication of life in the house.
Toshiro stood in the doorway, watching her with a strange look in his eyes. Sayuri could not make out his expression, but his body language was unmistakable. He was angry.
She kept her eyes trained on the stove; her apron still tied tight around her waist.
Sayuri finally sat at the kitchen table, her fingers tracing tiny circles on the beige formica. Across from her, Toshiro was hunched over a bowl of rice, the steam rising in a lazy flurry between them. The silence was heavy, like a big wet blanket thrown over them both. Sayuri could feel it pressing down, suffocating the air in her lungs, making her feel like she was drowning in her own thoughts.
Toshiro had been so quiet all morning, barely speaking a word during breakfast. Sayuri had watched him out of the corner of her eye, trying to see if he was alright, but he hadn't given her any sign. She had wanted to ask him what was wrong, but instead she had just sat there, not wanting to break the silence.
Sayuri had been filled with dread all morning, a heavy weight on her chest that threatened to suffocate her. She had been feeling it ever since she had woken up, that deep sinking feeling that something had gone terribly wrong. She knew it was something to do with Toshiro, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
Suddenly, Toshiro looked up at her, his eyes unreadable. Sayuri wanted to say something, but the words seemed to stick in her throat. She felt like she had been caught in the act of something, and she didn't know what it was.
"Sayuri," Toshiro said finally, his voice harsh and cold. "Is something wrong?"
Sayuri could feel her heart skip a beat as she looked into his eyes. She wanted to say no, to deny it all, but the words wouldn't come. She had been so careful all morning, but it was like he had seen right through her.
"No," she lied, her voice barely a whisper. "Nothing is wrong."
Toshiro stared at her for a long moment, his gaze was like a weight on her shoulders. "You're lying," he said finally, and Sayuri felt her heart clench in her chest.
"No, I'm not," she said, trying to sound calm and collected.
"Yes, you are," Toshiro said, his voice low and accusing. "I can see it in your eyes."
Sayuri felt her cheeks flush as she looked away, her stomach knotting with fear. She had been so careful to hide her feelings, but it seemed like Toshiro could see right through her.
"What's wrong?" he asked, and Sayuri felt her heart sink. She wanted to tell him everything, but at the same time she was scared. She had been struggling to keep her memories at bay, and if Toshiro knew that she had regained her memories and had not told him, he would never forgive her.
"Nothing," she said, her voice barely audible. "I just… I'm not feeling well."
Toshiro looked at her, his gaze still suspicious. Sayuri felt her heart race as she waited for his response, and finally he sighed and got up from the table.
"Alright," he said, sounding almost defeated. "Just… take care of yourself."
Sayuri felt a wave of relief wash over her, and she nodded. "I will," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Toshiro didn't say anything else, and the silence returned to the kitchen, heavy and oppressive. Sayuri wanted to say something, but instead she just stayed there, her fingers tracing circles on the formica and her heart aching.
It was Toshiro who spoke first, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"Sayuri..." His voice was gentle, but she could detect the underlying tension. "Do you remember?"
Sayuri froze. The question hung in the air between them like a ghost. She did not have to ask what he meant—she knew what he was asking.
Toshiro continued, his voice becoming firmer. "You know what I'm asking. Do you remember?"
Sayuri's mind raced. She had been expecting this question for weeks. She had known that she couldn't avoid it forever, but she was still unprepared. She could feel her cheeks burning, but she kept her gaze trained on the stove.
"No," she said softly. "I don't remember. I'm sorry."
Toshiro seemed to deflate at her words. He opened his mouth to say something else, then closed it again. He stood there for a moment, his face betraying the turmoil of his thoughts, before finally turning away.
Sayuri let out a long breath. She had dreaded this moment, but it had gone better than she had expected. He had not pushed her any further, had not demanded an explanation or tried to convince her of something she wasn't sure existed. He had simply accepted her answer and walked away.
But as she watched him disappear down the hallway, she felt a pang of guilt. She had been deceiving him—lying to him. She had regained her memories but had told him nothing. Why had she done this? She understood that she promised Byakuya not to tell Toshiro but still. Was it out of fear, or out of selfishness? Or perhaps it was something else altogether.
Sayuri didn't know, and she was too afraid to find out.
After a few moments, Toshiro grabbed his jacket off the hook.
"I'm going out for a while," he said, and Sayuri nodded without looking up.
She heard his footsteps as he walked away, and she felt her heart sink as the door clicked shut. She was alone again, the silence of the kitchen pressing down on her like a heavy weight.
Sayuri swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions in check. She knew she had to keep it together, but she was so scared of what Toshiro might do if he knew the truth. He had been so kind to her, and she didn't want to do anything to hurt him.
She was still sitting at the table when she heard the door open again, and she looked up to see Toshiro standing there, his eyes soft and warm.
"I… I forgot something," he said, and Sayuri nodded, her heart swelling with relief.
"Come here," he said, and she walked over to him, letting him wrap his arms around her. She leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace, and for a brief moment she thought she could feel her fears melting away.
But then, Toshiro pulled back, and the moment was gone. He looked into her eyes, searching for something, and Sayuri knew he was looking for the truth.
She wanted to tell him, to let him know how she really felt, but the words didn't come. Instead, she just looked into his eyes, hoping he could see the truth in her own.
Finally, Toshiro stepped back and heaved a sigh. "Okay," he said, and Sayuri felt a wave of relief wash over her.
"I'm going now," he said softly.
Sayuri stood there for a moment, the silence stretching out between them. She wanted to cry, to let out all of her emotions, but instead she just stood there, her eyes closed and her heart aching.
She knew she had to be strong, to keep her secrets hidden, but it was so hard. She wanted to tell Toshiro the truth, but she was terrified of what his reaction might be. So instead, she just stood there, her emotions locked deep inside her, hoping he could still see the truth in her eyes.
"Toshiro, I'm glad you're here," she said, her voice soft and sad. "I wanted to tell you something before . . ."
She trailed off, and Toshiro waited, holding his breath. He had been expecting this, but he had not been prepared for it. He felt his heart beating in his chest.
Before Toshiro could respond, a loud siren rang out through the air. He could feel the energy in the air shift, and he knew that the announcement had just been made.
Rukia's execution was about to begin.
