What thanks is sufficient for the gift of life?
—
"I'm off, Manager," Rukia calls as she removes her apron and pulls off the hair ties and clips keeping her hair in tiny twin ponytails. She has barely enough hair to manage into such a shape, but Manager likes it this way. No, that sounds creepy. Manager likes this hairstyle on girls. No, that sounds quite bad too. Manager prefers this hairstyle? No…
The owner of the Izakaya is a tall blonde man with a receding hairline. He is the one that pays Rukia the most out of her many part-time jobs; more than double of the others, in fact. It might seem too good to be true, but Rukia's gut feeling tells her this man will not hurt her, and her gut feeling has always been accurate. Perhaps growing up in the gutter amongst dogs and rats has its benefits after all — nothing sharpens your senses like fighting for food with beasts that can bite you and vermin that can steal the food you have only just been bitten for.
On the fateful night of their meeting, she had marched into the Izakaya, rainwater trailing behind her in drops of determination and desperation. She was still in her convenience store uniform, the weight of Renji's letter heavy in her pocket. Byakuya was ill, very ill. He barely ate anything each day, kneeling in front of Hisana's altar for hours extending into days. He would sit in front of her until his collapse, upon which Renji would carry his unconscious body back to bed as he was a stubborn man, unyielding while awake. Renji had written in such eloquent words that Rukia would suspect forgery if she wasn't so acquainted with his scrawly handwriting. Rukia understood; she was the last piece of Hisana remaining in this world. Perhaps her presence would ease his pain at least a little.
This balding blonde man was the only one who could let her start work immediately. She had already gone to many restaurants and shops closer to her apartment, which either had no vacancies, not enough hours or wanted trials and interviews that she had no time for. Being able to find resources had always been her strength, and now, it was her only redeeming trait. She ached to get on the bus to Inuzuri, sprint to Byakuya's side and protect him… and yet, what was she protecting him from? Some fights were to protect lives, but some fights were to protect pride. Rukia knew with certainty that Byakuya would blame himself forever if she were to abandon her path for his momentary comfort. What she could do was to send money back home, so they could live in more comfort, have cleaner food and water, maybe even medicine if there were notes to spare. Rukia was no stranger to struggle — after all, whatever excess the Kuchiki had during the past few years had all been spent on maintaining Hisana's life. She could starve a little bit. She could handle it. She could carry the family's livelihood if Byakuya's grief was too heavy for him to hold on to anything else.
"Why did you hire me?" Rukia had asked towards the end of a shift as she mopped up an intoxicated customer's vomit with a cloth and her bare hands. "You pay me so much, but I don't even have to work that hard." This customer had a tongue for spice and had ingested a decent amount of chilli oil, colouring the semisolid a bright orange. She squeezed the substance into a cobalt blue plastic bucket, creating a blinding, dizzying, stomach-turning contrast. Rukia didn't bat a single eyelash.
'...I'm concerned about what you do at your other jobs." Manager thought to himself. He chose not to verbalise this and instead chuckled. "You remind me of my little sister."
"How so?"
"You're the same height."
"..."
"Can you tie your hair up like her too?"
Rukia was confident that he was messing with her. Oh well, she does owe him for the opportune work. It's not like she will lose any organs by putting on hair accessories.
"Careful on the way home, Rukia-chan." Manager says, counting the day's cash with languid flips of his long fingers. "There's been reports of children disappearing lately."
Rukia sighs, lethargy all over her face. "Worry not, Manager. I am quite grown."
"I'm serious, there might be a serial kidnapper out there!"
"Okay, okay." The downside of making too many lame jokes is that people don't want to take you seriously, ever. "I'll be careful."
"Should I call a friend for you? That orange boy from last week?"
"It's fine, it's just a short walk."
"Rukia-chan…"
"Why are you so insistent today? Is someone beating me up because you owe them money?"
"How cruel, Rukia-chan! I am merely concerned for the safety of my most hardworking staff member!"
"Hmph." Rukia crosses her arms, a flush spreading across her nose bridge as the corners of her mouth involuntarily lift. "Thank you for your concern. I don't have his phone number, though." Nor does she have anyone else's phone number, unfortunately.
"Aw, that's a shame."
"What?"
"It's a good thing to have friends, Rukia-chan."
"...I'll be on my way now."
Rukia flips past the bamboo curtains before the blonde man can object further. "Well-meaning old men with nothing to do," she mutters.
The walk back to her apartment is uneventful. Cicadas call for mates at outrageous volumes, simple-minded creatures with no worries for the future. Exams are coming up soon and Rukia needs to study, but she has so little time. Perhaps she ought to take up Ichigo's closet offer after all? She smiles, remembering his dumb face and stupid rambling. Even if she's being overcharged, it doesn't change the fact that Aizen is one who extended the helping hand at her most desolate time. Thanks to his blessing, she has only needed to camp outside for a week. She is not a person that can live happily without paying back her debts.
Unanticipated generosity, selfless kindness, immeasurable sacrifice. For some debts, she will gladly continue to pay for her whole life.
—
The cicada's song is not just for calling mates; it is also to warn for nearby predators.
There is another sizeable garden shed on Rukia's street, located a few houses before her home. She passes it every day on her way back from the Izakaya. Its exterior is painted a lovely white colour and its walls are lined with little clay pots holding colourful flowers. The flowers are never wilted, always well-nourished and watered by the old lady living across the road. As Rukia approaches the shed, she notices some of the pots are tipped over. Strange, it isn't windy tonight. Rukia decides to be a good citizen of the community and fix this issue! Everyone has to have a part in maintaining the environment, right?
She squats down and lifts the first pot off its side. A small pool of liquid lies under it and wets her hands. She almost wipes them on her pants before remembering that her clothes are no longer rags and people in the city care about dirt on their coverings. She shakes them instead to remove the excess. As she does this, the moonlight catches on her palms and shows her that the liquid on her hands is a dark, inky red.
Rukia stills. She can recognise that colour from anywhere. The same as what seeped out of Hisana onto rolls of cloth washed too often to retain their original colour.
"Mmph!"
Rukia's heart pounds as her eyes flick to the door. That sound came from behind it. As silently as she can, she rises to a half squatting position. Her hand is cold as she wraps it around the doorknob. She twists. It gives with a slight squeak. She pulls the door open by a tiny margin, then opens it wide.
Two young girls. One with black hair, one with brown hair. Ankles tied. Forced to sit back to back by a coarse yellow rope. A fat piece of black tape covers each of their mouths. Eyes screaming.
Rukia doesn't pause. She strides inside and crouches down. Before they can tense in caution, she takes the face of the closest girl and starts peeling the tape off with as much steadiness as she can.
"It's okay, it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you," She repeats again and again as she frees the mouth of the black-haired girl and starts on the other. "I'm going to untie you. Can you guys tell me who you are?"
The black-haired girl gasps like a newborn as soon as the tape comes off. She coughs and gags then retches a fan of dark green liquid onto the ground. Rukia rips off the tape on the other girl, sweat covering her forehead as the first girl continues to vomit uncontrollably.
"Untie us!" The brown-haired girl cries in a breaking voice, both eyes and mouth wide and red. "Untie us!"
Rukia can't see the knot. She looks around desperately for something sharp. She sees the flower pot at the entrance and smashes it hard on to the ground. Rukia snatches the largest broken piece and begins hacking at the dirty rope. She bashes the hard edge on her hands and wrists multiple times in her haste. As long as the red splatters are not from the kids.
"Almost there, almost there," she prays. The tremor in her hands is unrelenting,
The rope comes apart and the girls fall forwards. The brown-haired girl catches herself on her elbows but the black-haired girl lands forehead first on the concrete. The sound of retching disappears.
"Karin-chan!" The brown-haired girl yells, spinning and grabbing the other girl's shoulders. "Karin-chan!"
Rukia slots herself in front of Karin as the brown-haired girl peels her off the ground. She opens Karin's mouth and confirms she is breathing and has not inhaled her own bile. She rotates and moves Karin's head so Karin's cheek is touching her ear and grabs at Karin's limp hands.
"Put her on my back!" Rukia exclaims.
"Call Onii-chan!" The girl sobs as she helps Rukia hold onto Karin's thighs. "We need to call him!"
"This isn't the time!" Rukia snaps.
"Call him! Please!" The girl weeps, the grimace on her face splitting into an even more heart-wrenching expression while tears marble down her dirt-marred face.
"Okay, okay! I promise!" Rukia gently grabs the girl's hand. "But save it for later, we can't stay here, okay?"
Rukia holds the brown-haired girl's hand with one hand and holds one of the black-haired girl's legs with the other. She takes them past the door into the open summer night where cicadas are screaming their loudest. Where does she take them now? Certainly not her own house down the street; what if the person that did this to them is still around? She isn't confident in fighting the tactics of the city people. To the Izakaya? Too far, but good enough. Holding the girl's hand with a vice-like grip, she takes them as fast as she can in that direction, reaching the main road where road lights are bright and cars are numerous even at this time of the night. Where can she find a large group of people to hide in at this time?! Rukia curses under her breath. She wishes she can call for the help of her friends. Oh wait, she can call the police! She has a cellphone!
She pulls her phone out of her pocket and throws it into the brown-haired girl's hand. "Call the police!"
"I can't do that! They will know!"
"What are you talking about?!"
"He said I can't call the police if I want Onii-chan to be safe! We have to warn Onii-chan!" The girl flips open the phone and presses a chain of buttons before Rukia can snatch it back. The call connects almost immediately. "Hello?" A frantic, painfully familiar voice says.
"Onii-chan, it's me, Yuzu!"
"Yuzu! Where are you?! Are you okay? I'm com-"
Several things happen at once. Karin's leg falls from Rukia's slippery grip and she tumbles to the ground with a soft thud. Yuzu drops the phone in alarm and rushes towards Karin. Rukia's peripheral vision catches the motorcycle with unlit lights speeding towards them. She pushes the girls out of the way in the split second before the collision.
A young scream pierces the cold night air.
To be continued :D