16Somewhere in time
We were together
Only a little while,
And we believed our love
Would last a thousand years.
-Haiku-
The beginning was simply racing across buildings - a challenge to Ichigo, her easily irritated friend, on whom could reach the Hollow first. It had been six months since they had seen one another and she was celebrating the feel of cold air rushing against her cheeks, buffeting her robes and his good-natured taunts about her 'slowness'
The Hollow appeared to be a big one, from the report on the Soul pager.
Rukia knew she couldn't let a rookie handle what a Lieutenant could handle without a sweat.
Her pride was at stake so she put on an extra burst of speed, leaping down the side of the final building in the row, the sheer adrenaline rush a feeling before her hand gripped her sword with surety and she withdrew it, eyes set on cleaving the horrid thing's mask and body in one swing.
There was a second of the thing, its distorted shape coating the streetlight in malaise, of it turning - somehow sensing her silent approach. It said: "R-Rukia?" in a gruff garble. She blinked - surprised - but quickly dismissed the notion that this thing knew her name.
Her blade made contact to the mask like a Kabuki play's oni, hearing Ichigo's distant yell of "no fair, midget!" - then a shrill piercing scream but suddenly she was falling, far too fast, the world a mixture of night and lamplight was swirling and an even brighter luminescence surrounded her body. Her instincts kicked in and half-blindly she sliced ferociously at what she could feel remaining at the edge of her blade. The world righted itself ...Ichigo had stopped yelling which was a miracle in itself and she was soaring down, landing in a flutter of inky black robes amid the midnight-bound street.
"Commander!"
A voice yelled, startled from her momentary triumph, Rukia paused in shaking her sword clean of stray blood droplets. Her eyes accustomed to the streetlights of the living world at first widened then quickly scanned around the strange boulevard where she had landed. The Hollow several feet away was disintegrating slowly - yes, it was the same one. It reeked of the same fear and potency of centuries of living off souls. But the rest of the strange landscape did not fit.
She half-was reminded of Seireitei's streets, her world which was locked in Feudalistic Japan. There were men- humans, clad in blue haori coats, their uniforms varied, most carried katanas, but one had a pike-like weapon. The central most one was a spiky-haired older male, his mouth was open and he was gaping at her from the ground.
"Commander!" persisted one who had rushed forward. This one had ebony hair, long, tied back in a high samurai ponytail, long bangs swept his high proud features. His voice had a note of worry to it. "Are you unharmed?"
The older man seemed to come to, shakily grasping the proffered hand, the two rose and the 'commander' started forward, staring at her.
"Y-yes, I'm alright. I..this...boy saved me."
Boy? she blinked, immediately snapping, "I'm no boy, human! Watch your tongue!"
"Whoa this one's got a mouth." muttered an auburn-haired male from the side.
"Oh - I-I'm sorry, it's just surprising to see a girl wielding a sword as expertly as you did." The commander explained. She eyed him suspiciously and carefully gauged the strange humans. Though they were all armed, she knew they couldn't hurt her as human weapons couldn't wound a Shinigami, it still paid to be careful and she still lacked the answers to the change in scenery around her - and their appearances.
"It's fine. May I ask...what year it is?"
This time the one beside the 'commander' answered, his narrow violet eyes scrutinizing her every action. Though the Shinsengumi swords had been unable to wound the strange masked creature, this girl had been able to cut it down with one swing and she had appeared to fly while doing it. She required watching, in particular when Kondou-san seemed to think there was no more threat in the area.
"September 1867, of the Edo period."
...
They took her back to their headquarters.
She went grudgingly, her first instinct to open a portal to Soul Society but reason won out. If for all purposes it appeared that she had somehow been thrown back in time, the Seireitei she knew wouldn't be there - 143 years was a long time until ...what? Had that been a power of the Hollow? Maybe a last ditch attempt to save its self? She had gone ahead of Ichigo so perhaps the Hollow had thought she was alone and simply seeked to get rid of one opponent- and because she was here, was Ichigo looking for her in the modern version of the living world?
All those questions made her head ache. Brought up unnecessary worry. More human men let them into a traditional Japanese style compound. Few lights cast circles of illumination in the darkened grounds but she could tell it was a spacious yard. The man she learned was - Isami Kondou, seemed kindly disposed toward her, probably because she had 'saved' him when his men/ officers had been useless against the Hollow. From what she gathered of their little bit of talk, they believed it was an Oni sent by the Satcho alliance - were getting quite vocal about it until 'Hijikata-san' the violet-eyed male from before, silenced them warningly.
Rukia recognized the name from one of the times she had posed as a student in Ichigo's school. Hijikata Toshizo, vice-commander of the Shinsengumi, assholejerk to her. Hijikata had nearly prevailed on relieving her of her precious Zanpaku-to until Kondou-san had read the antagonism and put a stop to it. That didn't mean she was trusted, but it was enough of a temporary triumph for her to smirk in Hijikata's direction.
Said man had scowled and looked away, making sure to conveniently walk ahead of her, leaving her in his proverbial dust.
Bastard, she thought, eyeing the broad shoulders and swish of the dark ponytail against the light sky blue haori. The others behind her, kept giving her curious looks, one she ignored for the sake of not belting out a few punches. Rukia restrained herself knew they had noticed her armband with the bronze plaque of Thirteenth's Squad.
Questions were forthcoming, ones she formulated to provide some sort of false answer to. For now it seemed she was ...stuck. Trapped, however ill the word sat with her. A portal to Soul Society was a place where she didn't exist, where Renji nor Byakuya did. The present - past where she was, was filled with the ghosts of men whom had died 143 years before. Not that they knew it of course.
Another disturbing fact was that they could 'see' her.
And fully believed she was ...alive like them. The oddness of the situation didn't escape her as they finally reached a large room in a more secluded wing past the snores of men behind closed shoji doors.
"Here," Kondou-san said, allowing her to enter first. "Please take a seat."
She eyed the seating arrangement of small tatami mats and chose the one in the center, familiar with feudalistic arrangements. Kondou took the one directly in front of her, while Hijikata sat to his immediate left, the other five men grouped loosely around her. Most with curiosity in their expressions and very little hostility.
Hijikata possessed the most. Little surprise there, she thought annoyed.
"Please state your name."
"Kuchiki Rukia." she said tonelessly, deciding to inject some emotion into her voice. The commander seemed to be a kindly man, he reminded her vaguely of Isshin Kurosaki without the bombastic tones. "I..was..am a member, a Lieutenant of a Taijiya Division. I ...got lost from my team," she hesitated, reflecting that that at least wasn't a lie.
"What is your purpose?" Hijikata asked, his look piercing, attempting to discern any lies.
"We hunt Hollows."
"Oh like Onis?" interposed the auburn-haired one with interest.
"Yes." she said relieved, "the Hollows are more advanced than regular oni. Their masks hide their deterioration of self making them much more dangerous."
"Then what is your allegiance?"
"I..don't have one. There are so few of us, we wander, searching about the countryside to rid ..Japan of those beasts." she added softer, her gaze lowering respectfully. "Our duty is to protect the humans."
"So you have no kin? No one at all?" Kondou asked more gently, sending a quick look at his vice-commander to cease such a harsh line of questioning. Hijikata sealed his mouth and appeared generally unhappy.
"No." she lied, knowing it was only a half-truth. In this place she had no one. "Just my team."
"Do you have any way of...finding them?"
She shook her head mutely, a little more of courage draining away. They seemed to all pick up on her general discomfort, perhaps pondering what to do it. At length a violet-haired man stirred, turning azure eyes to her. "You are especially skilled, what is your age?"
At least triple yours, she thought, but said, "sixteen. I was mentored by some of the best in my field."
"Ah."
"The same age as.." The auburn-haired began but stopped; Hijikata sent him a warning look, "Souji."
"Sorry." The one whom had spoken prior, murmured, averting his green-eyed gaze. Rukia wondered who it was she was being compared to. Probably another human, maybe a comrade. She had noticed another around her age - (in human years) a brown-haired boy whom dug his short nails into the tops of his crossed legs, wincing at 'Souji's' slip.
"Well, we what should we do, Toshi? We can't just turn her out into the night alone." Kondou insisted, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Rukia eyed the man quickly and realized...oddly touched, that this human - this long dead man, was concerned for her safety as strange that it was, that a human should be concerned about death incarnate. But they didn't know that.
She was determined it stay that way.
"You don't need to be concerned on my part, Kondou-san." Rukia began, choosing her helpless act. She sensed a change of atmosphere in the room. Most of the men were looking at her with pitying looks, the strong urge to protect the 'helpless female' probably overriding their suspicious natures. It was working well on Kondou-san - he was definitely the fatherly type like she had originally thought, but the one thorn in her side...Hijikata Toshizo, was giving her definite skepticism.
She decided to ignore that part of the equation for now.
She gave the commander of the Shinsengumi a tremulous brave smile. "I'll manage..."
And with all foolish men it worked.
...
She received a room, a warning from the ever-so nice Hijikata-san not to cause trouble and a warning from Okita Souji not to run off with their secrets otherwise he would hunt her down and dispatch her personally. Rukia had smiled a little at that and said in a cocky undertone, "I'd like to see you try, Okita-san."
The man she had addressed, had at first looked a little surprised at her daring then smirked. He couldn't have known how silly it was to threaten death when he had a year maybe of life before tuberculosis weakened his body during battle.
She wondered idly in the four solid walls of the plain room, if fate had meant for her to reap their souls as they died. Like it had been fate for her meet Ichigo - she outright refused Aizen's presumptuous notions, maybe it was fate at work again which had lead her down the road to the past to meet with Shinsengumi, tragic but undeniable men running toward their fates.
She had to believe it was.
...
There was simply no option. Adapt and survive. She chose to bide her time, steer clear of any areas where she thought a Shinigami might be posted - turned out there were few worries and less Hollows. The ones she did encounter were usually passing far overhead.
Which left her Zanpaku-to unneeded.
Finally wandering out of her room in sheer boredom, she encountered asshole extraordinaire-Hijikata. His piercing eyes stared her down, his very tone dripping with insolence. "Where do you think you are going?"
"Nowhere. Just bored out of my mind. Is there anything I can do around here?"
"Can you cook?"
She blinked, not expecting the question. "Um..passably." More than passably if one was judging by Orihime-standards. Hijikata wasn't, frowning down at her, using his height at the best advantage to loom impressively over her diminutive 4'9. She felt inclined to rolled her eyes, the shaggy ends of her hair a little longer, dusting the edge of her white collar. "I'm not going to poison you or anything."
"Hmph."
"What's that snort for?;"
"I don't have to explain myself to you." Then he turned on his heel, seeming to change his mind about a different destination. Rukia stared after him, losing her stiff posture (bent out of shape actually) calling after him, "hey what about-"
"Souji's had a relapse, you will prepare his meals and take them to him."
A little less annoyed, she hesitated in following him. "Thanks."
He made no reply to that save for, "try not to make a nuisance of yourself."
...
"You're not that cute."
The directions to the room were still clear in her mind, she had set the tray down and slid the door open, pushing it forward while being on her hands and knees. She sensed the gloom hanging over the wan-faced Captain, a plain white yukata had replaced the colorful uniform he had worn before.
Rukia glowered at his flat statement, "well you're just going to have to deal with it." she scooted in, sliding the tray with her, closing the thin paper door behind her.
"What? No blush or stammer?"
"No. You insulted me. I'd have to say you're a jerk, Okita-san."
To say he was surprised was an understatement. "So you're not afraid me at all?"
This time she rolled her eyes expressively, scowling while uncovering the steaming dish."Not at all."
...
She suspected he did things just to piss her off.
'Vice-commander this' or 'Vice-commander that' who art holier than thou? No one was. Yes, he had the sort of leadership qualities that reminded her of Byakuya in weaker moments, that still didn't mean she liked serving him tea.
For reasons important to their station, her hair remained short like a boy's, they addressed her as 'Kuchiki-san' explaining her presence to any higher-ups, that she was a pageboy, an orphan from the equivalent of a noble family hence the honorific- change noble to bushi serving the Shogunate. That was irking. Hijikata deliberately addressed her as, "Kuchiki-kun."
She made sure to slosh heated Sake - nearly scalding him once while she was the picture of innocence and care with Kondou-san and their guests. It was amusing watching the taut flicker in Hijikata's jaw, the flash in his eyes.
It was payback for the times when he said her tea was bad.
...
Hijikata did remind her of Byakuya. Her brother chained by paper only not by action, she remembered the time when Byakuya couldn't look her in the eye because of Hisana.
Sokyoku hill happened.
He explained his promise and about her long-dead sister.
The Arrancars and Aizen had happened and he saved her from certain death by the hands of the Septima Espada. Rukia didn't forget - she thought of him now with the passage of spring and longer heat-filled days of summer. She wondered if her brother had given up on her, how Ichigo was, but skirted the three-months old question.
Would she ever be able to return to her own time?
That thought bothered her days and nights. She was awake, gazing up at the hushed moon-flooded ceiling when the stamp of footsteps, harried raised voices had echoed distantly from one end of the compound to her wing. Rukia sat up and drew the covers back, listening intently to at first clarify that they were familiar -
Then she up and tugging her black kimono over the white sleeping yukata, snatching up her Zanpaku-to, not pausing to cram socks on, she slipped out her door and up the hallway heading toward the sound of the voices. The scent of blood was in the air and the screech of Hollows wasn't far.
It never crossed her mind to act like a simple 'pageboy' she was a warrior first and foremost and knew basic field triage. The scent of blood was stronger two passageways down and she hesitantly slid the door back hard, standing in the threshold assessing the fact that there were bleeding men - soldiers. Attending guards stared at her sudden arrival but she ignored them, plunging back into the hallway, hurrying further up to a more secluded room.
There, forcing the door open, she found Heisuke Todo lying on a tatami mat, bleeding profusely. Hijikata was there, kneeling on one knee at the boy's side and Nagakura and Harada wore drawn, taut expressions that changed to some surprise at seeing her.
"Kuchiki! Who called you!" Hijikata barked; she saw the boy strain at the rapidly soaking white cloth bound around his middle. She lightly gripped her fists and hurried forward, dropping down, decidedly ignoring the irate human. "The wound needs to be-" she muttered, trying to think of the pros between a compress or cauterization. Suddenly as her hands lifted to tear at the remaining button down shirt, a hard hand had wrapped around her upper arm and ruthlessly pulled, yanking her aside.
"Get out." Hijikata breathed, dangerous anger radiating from every line of his tensioned-filled body. Rukia lifted her eyes from the patient, just long enough to side swipe the man's dark-hair fringed cheek. "Back off! Do you want him to die!" she roared, ripping from his grasp, her eyes sliding to the moaning boy, a ripple spreading throughout his form - Hijikata speechless, turned at the same second. A pure snow white spread through the tousled brown locks.
"Oh God," she whispered, "is he turning into a Hollow?" and at that memories ripped through her of Kaien Shiba's horrifying transformation. In the space of a heartbeat, she made up her mind. It was simple really. Life or death. She was death incarnate in a room full of humans and one was bleeding to death. From the accelerated breathing and rapid roll of orbs beneath tightly closed lids, she could tell the boy was fighting whatever strange process was attempting to take over his body. The how- or -whys seemed unimportant nor the fact that she was surrounded by witnesses. Human witnesses. An unpardonable crime in any century of Soul Society's existence. The green glow rushed to her hands, tingling with kido she hadn't utilized since wartime - what felt like a lifetime ago.
It was - it hadn't happened yet.
Rukia closed her eyes, willing the psychometry of energy to meld a human's body together; in this time, Kaien Shiba still existed, had not died yet - so many what-ifs. Oh yeah not to mention how many rules she was breaking when for the time being she couldn't remember 21st century Japanese history whether or not Heisuke Todo was meant to die this night.
"K-Kuchiki-"
"H-Heisuke-kun-"
"S-shut up!"
"Let her be, Hijikata-san!" hissed Harada, ever the rational one when Saito-san was gone, intent eyes fixated on the slowly stabilizing heartbeat lifting the thin, torn up chest.
"Why won't you ever listen to me?"
For good or ill she had chosen this road.
...
There were voices outside her room.
In the garbled cloud of sleep, she caught a few words but couldn't make sense of them.
Kuchiki-Safety-healing- and tired.
The last part came from a softer than usual Hijikata. Her nerve centers once locking onto the man, were it seemed ever determined to prove him wrong. Bed-head, clad in the same hastily thrown on garments from the night before even more displaced than usual, Rukia stumbled from the covers on the floor, shoving the door back on its track.
"Could you please lower your voice, Hijikata-san?" she asked snarkily, startling the two men from their conversation. Dark circles framed his violet eyes but before he could get a word in, she abruptly turned to the other older man and dipped her head in respect, "ah, good morning, Kondou-san. If you please wait a moment, I'll be around shortly."
A little surprised, Kondou, whom appeared more refreshed than both of them, gestured magnanimously. "Ah, pardon my eagerness, Kuchiki-san. Take all the rest you need."
She swayed a little on her feet and wearily nodded before closing the door and collapsing just inside.
...
They heard the tell-tale thud.
Toshizo was the first to react, sighing inwardly, as his commander and old friend became visibly distressed.
"Ah, should we-"
"Dr. Matsumoto isn't needed." Toshizo said perfunctorily, placing a hand on the panel. For all the world he looked as a man preparing himself to carry out an unpleasant duty. It was - to him. On the otherside of the door lay a helpless girl.
That was the most painful part about the pale, raven-haired girl.
The memories.
...
"How is she?"
"Resting."
"And she'll stay that way," their commander affirmed, walking in after Hijikata.
Heisuke had a duel layer of bandages beneath his loosely buttoned shirt and stovepipe black pants. The youngest Captain was scowling at the floor, a dozen different memories all interlaced with a smiling bundle of cheer.
"So, this is an interesting development." Okita finally said, arms crossed, face haggard from lack of sleep and sickness taking its toll. "Our little Taijiya has some hidden talents." of course it remained unspoken his own main thoughts about the matter.
"How are the men?"
"Off active duty for the time being, but surface wounds remain shallow. A full recovery is almost completely assured."
"And all that from little Kuchiki-san?"
"It would appear that she is...perhaps not like us."
"What're you suggesting? That she's an oni?" Shinpachi sounded incredulous, reaching up to run a hand through short maroon-colored locks. The others expressions remained somber. Hijikata at length spoke, "we can't simply dismiss her unique skills witnessed briefly before hand. We know little about the oni-race therefore it seems plausible that they would each possess different traits."
A perceptible wince passed throughout the quiet gathering.
"Yeah but," Heisuke pouted, breaking the silence, "after all she's done so far, can we really go as far as to call her a liar? Her motives don't seem to be harmful...otherwise she could've left me there to die."
But, didn't.
"Hmm perhaps. In any case, she bears watching in the future."
...
The marketplace felt like taking a step back in time.
Her reward for good behavior.
It was the Rukongai all over again. Though the memories were bittersweet, she pretended to be like the humans - cheerful like a human girl, without Renji at her side. Her escort left her looking at a collection of hand combs, an eager seller trying to convince her to buy one with cherry blossoms - for a special girl. It was a lovely item but completely unfitting.
The seller's immediate denomination of "young sir" earned him a brusque glare and haughty saunter to another vendor. She supposed it couldn't be helped, considering who her soldier-companions were, when they were the epitome of manliness. She wanted to snort at Nagakura's muscle-crunch, reminding all too fondly of Renji in one of his sillier moments.
Exchange the garish red hair for short maroon locks and vivid baby blue eyes - she halted her line of thought, her eyes which had been scanning for the soldiers alighted on instead, a head of sandy blond hair.
Urahara?
The thought came at once blessedly - sagging relief transforming into single-minded determination. Rukia shoved her way through the people, reaching the perverted shopkeeper just as he was selecting an expensive Calligraphy set in a brocaded violet box.
She let him complete his purchase only to snatch at his sleeve - ignoring his confused head swivel and wide eyes as she dragged him forcibly to a quiet alleyway. Anyone else would've thought they were being mugged.
...
"Do I know you?"
She blinked then stared at the clueless blond in astonishment. Slowly unreasonable anger dawned and she smacked him upside the head. "It's me, idiot! Me! Your best customer!" she said the last part sarcastically though the blond now had tears in his eyes and was holding his head where she had smacked him.
Few civilians glanced their way, where they were in the shadowed alleyway between two businesses. Urahara slowly straightened and blinked at her idiotically, "now that you mention it, you don't look familiar at all-" she kicked him in the shin earning a howl of pain. Finally he held his hands up in surrender, "please don't be so violent, Ms-whoever you are-! I swear I'm just a handsome perverted warden! Honest!"
Then it dawned on her, that this man...was not the Urahara Kisuke she knew. Hell, he was a still a respectable member of Soul Society for all she knew, and not a law-breaking criminal.
"Just hear me out, okay?" a little dizzy she was, now knowing that this man - Shinigami she knew before, did not know her. In the end, he looked at her sympathetically and bought her some dango - which she muttered 'thanks' but didn't touch it. Dango wasn't one of her favorites.
They sat on a grassy little knoll at the edge of town and she told him briefly about the Hollow, staying with the Shinsengumi and finally stopped the steady stream, taking a sip of bittersweet green tea from the bamboo canister.
"So you're from ...somewhere else." Urahara said cautiously.
"You don't believe me?"
"No, no. I've heard stranger things, Kuchiki-san, believe me. From your tale and your forthrightness, I fully believe you, I do. But how does this involve me, pray tell?"
"Can't you - I thought -"
He studied her stammering and frantic little face wisely nodding. "Oh-oh. You want me to get you back to your own era."
Rukia deflated some when she finally heard it spoken aloud. "Y-yes."
The blond blinked and looked even more confused, "how?"
She wanted to scream in frustration.
...
"Kuchiki-san, we've been looking for you. You know you shouldn't have wandered off like that." her escort said chidingly. He was an older man with the partially shaved head and tiny knot of hair done up in a queue; he was however one of the few others than the main set of Captains whom knew she was in fact not a 'pageboy' per se but a warrior. Rukia tried to look properly abashed, gesturing to Urahara beside her.
"This is Urahara Kisuke, a generally worthless cowardly man who is never around when you need him, but around when you don't." she deadpanned. Said man looked highly affronted, "hey! I protest the former part-!"
She overrode him steely, "but he is a medicine man trained in the Taijiya arts." She had no way of knowing whether or not his distinction of scientist was on the mark yet (add doctor rather than closet scientist) but Urahara was preening idiotically- so she guessed it wasn't far off.
Her escorts raised brows and she went on, "since there is no set base for our kind, communication is nigh impossible. Urahara hasn't seen Thirteenth Division since last December." she prayed silently that the man wouldn't betray her by acting the clueless blond. She didn't risk peeking his way to see how he was taking her improvisation.
"From my perspective they probably view Kuchiki-san here as lost at worst case, dead." Urahara thought to chime in, though he found the humans and their habitats interesting, he was sure the human soldier possessed limited intelligence.
"Oh, that must be terrible for you."
She accepted sympathy graciously, after all it wasn't far from the mark. She was almost positive Urahara wouldn't turn her in to Soul Society just for being in the wrong era - if she was caught and executed in this time period, the ripple effect would be too terrible to imagine. Just in case she had warned the scientist/warden whatever he was in this timeframe beforehand, that if he breathed a word of her existence to anyone she would hunt him down and castrate him. His horrified expression was enough to make her smile grimly inwardly.
As far as threats went, her small stature worked in her favor.
Urahara said he would be around usually on market days - how he evaded his duties in Soul Society was something she didn't want to think about.
Eventually they parted ways and a room full of interrogation - mostly Hijikata, awaited.
She had half a mind of admitting Urahara and she were Shinigami = Death Gods just to wipe that look off his face.
But didn't in favor of sarcastically suggesting, that perhaps Hijikata-san would prefer to follow her to personal business to ascertain her loyalties weren't elsewhere. It was meant as a retort, calmly placed with a hint of acerbic wit that everyone but Hijikata himself appreciated.
"Can't argue with a lady there, eh, Toshi?" Kondou chuckled, trying to keep the smile from his face. The man who was at the brunt of the joke, colored, averting his face.
He knew what she meant and also knew she was hinting he was a pervert. An unfair observation to be exact but worth it to see the mood lighten over dinner.
...
She was into her fifth month there, with no sign of her returning to the year 2011. Her birthday had passed silently. An aura of depression had fallen when the commander had left with the 'Rasetsu' unit, troops whom moved during the night but whom were considered stronger than the normal units during daylight hours. Rukia had her suspicions about the 'Rasetsu' and their connection to the strange illnesses plaguing the Captains of the Shinsengumi whom had recently been renamed.
All that was nothing compared to the report being told by a bloodied messenger to the Captains.
Kondou-san was - no hope - they couldn't muster up enough force fast enough -
The tea tray fell to the floor. Clay shattered, hot liquid splashed the place where she had stood.
"Kuchiki-!" The door slid open, someone yelled. She paid no attention to it, fleeing back to her room, snatching up her sword and throwing open the door connecting to the courtyard, raced past a few stunned soldiers, to vault over the wall.
Not long afterward, several men passed through the empty room out onto the veranda.
"Kuchiki! Damn it! Where does-"
"Face it, Hijikata-san. She's got a mind of her own." Okita said wisely, peering over his shoulder into the courtyard. Two soldiers whom were at ease after patrol, had stumbled away from the corner well, staring wildly from the high wall to their commanding officers.
"Sir, we-we just saw K-Kuchiki-san-!"
"That fool causing a scene, tch. I suppose it can't be helped." Grudging admiration tinted harsh words changing into a steely resolve familiar to all those present. "Prepare the horses, we ride!"
...
Of course she had done stupid things. Ichigo had called them 'stupid' but really in the end was glad of all the little mistakes he claimed she made. Rukia didn't count this as one, but had to admit being savaged by an oni did hurt even though her body was spiritual and not truly flesh. At least she had made it...somewhat in time.
Make that - oni savaged and then Hollow-bitten.
"Run!" she screamed at the blood-spattered man, though he'd been stabbed, the chain connecting his soul to his body was still intact meaning there was a chance of regaining life. She remembered Orihime, that seemed so long ago, and was heartened though she tasted blood on her tongue.
"K-Kuchiki-chan-"
Dammit. She saw the helplessness in his dark eyes and without another thought went for her Zanpaku-to. "Stay behind me-!" she commanded, blinking back dizzy black spots before her eyes, her legs shuddered, valiantly trying to keep her up. Rukia drew her sword and shakingly rotated it counter-clockwise, tossing away her regard for Soul Society's laws. "M-Mai, Sode no Shirayuki!" she ignored his sharp gasp, the yells of the other humans, and the sound of pounding horse hooves racing toward the forest glade. The pure icy white of her sword's shikai release sped an icy track along the ground, instantly freezing the remaining Rasetsu, the enemy soldiers seeing it gaped with wide open eyes, their mouths falling open in frenzied shrieks before they too, were consumed by the white wave. The Hollow she saved for last, charging in halting angle, cleaving it in two, her blade cutting the furred body, ice crystals exploding through the precise cut.
Within seconds it was over.
Rukia breathed hard, adrenaline keeping her barely upright, stumbling past Kondou Isami to his body, dropping heavily to the bloody ground and summoning up a misshapen ball of green kido and applying it to the bloodied patch on his back, soaking through the dark haori.
C'mon. C'mon. C'mon! Heal! Heal!
Her own hands wavered in and out sight. She blinked rapidly, forcing the energy into the still-warm body, rewarded within a few pained seconds of the chain..slowly evaporating, sinking into its corporeal host. Kondou's spirit gazed at her in amazement before the image flickered away and he breathed. Rukia missed those precious moments, her consciousness vanishing when the first voices reached the clearing.
...
"Welcome to the world of the living, Kuchiki-san."
"Urahara." she grumbled, her eyes aching in the dim profuse light of the oil-lamp lit room. She felt terrible all over mostly generating from her torso. Rukia puzzled over the strange pain and then started to sit up, sending immediate stitches of pain. She gasped, grimacing, "K-Kondou-?"
"You were lucky I was the one who arrived first." he remarked, looking at her through one open eye.
That didn't answer her question. She scowled through her pain at the sandy-haired man until he shrugged, "fine, fine. Kondou Isami lives, though due to the record I peeked at before heading over, he's supposed to be cold thrown in a traitor's ditch. What brought about your sudden sacrificial attitude?"
Rukia felt definite relief wash over her and started to lower herself back down, feeling nauseas and black spots danced over her vision. "Duty." she mumbled, willing herself not to be sick.
"Mah, can't be. You're a million miles from any place called home, you wouldn't be recognized as any Soul Reaper where you belong-"
"He was kind to me." she said without opening her eyes.
"You healed humans with kido, Kuchiki-san. You used kido behind their backs to stun other humans. You cut down Hollows that were preying on Okita Souji's weakness and most damning you released your Zanpaku-to. All that tells of more than duty. In fact you would be executed twice over for interfering."
She kept her eyes shut, refusing to answer. Thankfully the pain was ebbing like the tide.
"One other thing, Kuchiki-san."
"Make it quick."
Urahara sighed, "do you want...to stay here?"
Rukia didn't answer him for the longest time, finally, "Urahara, shut up."
He did, after chuckling a somewhat sad sound knowing the answer engraved in her heart before the too-proud Kuchiki Rukia-san would ever admit it to herself. And before Harada and Heisuke snuck to the door again, this much younger Kisuke said softer, "aye, aye, as you wish, Kuchiki-san from the future."
...
Kisuke didn't think it was prudent to tell Kuchiki-san-from-the-future, that he had spoken with the slightly injured but otherwise living Isami Kondou and reassured the man behind closed doors.
Kuchiki-san would live - please don't mention her abilities - and she thinks highly of you.
The human was honorable if not slightly foolish, seeking power in the tenancy of Koufu castle. Kisuke had heard tales of the oni clans but considered the plucky Kuchiki-san a better alternative to the murdered Chizuru Yukimura.
In the end, the Soul reaper and the commander smiled at one another, reaching mutual accord and Kisuke departed, saying he would be back to check on Kuchiki-san.
...
"So what did you tell them you were?" Did you stick to the story?
Urahara snuck through from the world of death - somehow, because everything was always a mystery or a challenge he had to meet, he did it and brought her the medicine he had concocted. Rukia held the glass vial in her hand, sitting up in bed.
"A doctor from your Taijiya. " he said nonchalantly.
She half-nodded and her gaze turned down to the swishing violet contents, so like the color of the absent one's eyes. "Are you sure it will work?"
"It mimics the complex genetic structure of an oni. It was no easy feat gaining a blood sample I'll tell you that much."
"Does it have a scent?" she asked, ignoring the scientist's whine.
"No. It'll end his torments as a Rasetsu. Rendering him completely mortal again."
Her hand closed on it, lightly squeezing the cool glass. "Thank-"
Urahara's sudden penetrating look stopped her. "Once he is mortal, he can be killed, Kuchiki-san."
All too aware of her paling face, she averted her gaze. "I-I know."
"Are you ready for that?"
"Death is...only an eventuality." she finally forced herself to say, coldly, softly.
"Perhaps." his eyes said otherwise.
...
She kept the vial close to her. Wrapped up in the square of linen he had given her.
The violet color tempted her to erase the long nights of silent agony and blood red eyes.
Urahara for his perversions, sometimes follies, could be trusted to a certain extent.
She knew it would work - it had to.
...
"Try to eat something. Your face looks terrible." she said flatly, staring at his wan, waxy skin and dark circles.
"It's none of your concern."
"Huh. No it's not. Starve for all I care!" she snapped and set the tray down hard and stalked out of the room, making sure to slam it hard. Once the coast was clear, Heisuke peeked out of a nearby room, muttering, "scary..." he was a little in awe of the tiny black-haired girl who would yell at Hijikata.
...
"I think I know how to get you home." Urahara said one afternoon. Like the proverbial wise man, he appeared far too knowledgeable for her taste, like someone who had sipped at the elixir of life and returned from its abyss. He was a Shinigami, but so was she; she was not as wise as him.
"How?" Rukia asked, the sunlight bright in her eyes. Somehow the not-yet shopkeeper, warden of the Maggot's nest, managed to get away quite often and find her in the least likely of places. She was in Ueno waiting for Saito Hajime to arrive.
Urahara was dressed as a civilian - without a sword, and smiled in that way she always found so infuriating.
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
She rolled her eyes, snapping, "of course, fool! I asked didn't I!"
"The answer is right before your eyes, Kuchiki-san." Urahara said cryptically, "I can't believe you haven't already seen it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Do you want to go home?"
"What do you mean now?"
"I say what I mean and mean what I say." he said with a wink, adding in an undertone, catching sight of the violet-haired swordsman. "Don't get too comfortable here, Kuchiki-san. Remember you do not belong."
She felt cold all over, bravely tipping her chin up at the would-be doctor, "I will, Urahara-san. You promise me something."
"What?"
"Leave this be." she said.
"Ah." He nodded and smiled to the slight frown of the Shinsengumi Captain. "Good day to you, Saito-san."
She looked between them, knowing the aloof Third Captain regarded Urahara as a fop, which he was. Urahara thought to her surprise met the azure-eyed man's gaze and said in the same light, soft tones. "I was just telling, Kuchiki-san, that I'd gotten word of her Thirteenth Squad. It appears they were decimated near the sea."
"My sympathies."
She remembered to incline her head, look ...sad. "They passed with honor."
"Indeed." Urahara said, sounding grave; she had the feeling he was enjoying himself too much. "Now, Kuchiki-san is alone." That was the cue - the one thing that sealed the young Urahara Kisuke's word.
"She is not alone." Her favorite sparring partner said with such surety that she could've wept. Outwardly her face was a solemn, pale mask, the perfect cover for a grieving young woman.
"Take care of her then, Saito-san." Urahara said, "maybe one day she will consider her place among you as home."
...
Everything was an eventuality.
The man whose swift sword-drawing was equal to her shunpo enhanced draw, was sent to the Lord of Aizu. It seemed their roads were destined to part - even when a month later, he was reported as missing presumed deceased after a skirmish.
One more lost.
She never bothered learning the names of the replacements. No one could replace Okita or Saito.
...
Home. Such a pleasant word. She was swift as a shadow - faster than poor Yamazaki-kun whom she had never met, could ever be. Her shunpo outmatched assassins, their faces when the kunai or shuriken passed 'through' her, astonished, and she backhanded the fools, sending them to a bone-shattering sprawl on the ground below.
They gave her a tight-fitting kunoichi outfit and face-mask.
She rarely saw Urahara, only a black cat slinking along the garden wall and knew to stop, look in the secret place for a vial of clear serum. It was Soul Society's answer to tuberculosis, it had preserved her Captain's life for centuries - she slipped it into Okita-kun's tea and watched the cough ease, his healthy tanned color return and him able to take up 'almost' full active duty.
He winked and said it was her 'magic' tea that did it.
She hid her smirk and knew better.
...
It did not save him in the end.
She was running ahead of the riders on horseback.
"Let me go ahead!" she tossed over her shoulder, a cold sweat making her feel clammy all over even though her advanced pace made her heart race faster. She rounded a thick copse of trees and leapt off the ground, soaring above the treetops, momentum pushing her faster.
Please -! Please-! And didn't know who she was praying for anymore.
She reached the clearing- seconds before landing on the ground to see three bloodied swordsmen charge in a triangular formation toward the white-haired man dueling with two others. Unthinkingly, she flipped her sword out and swept the clean blade perpendicular across their forms, her ghost-cutter cleaving through cloth, flesh and bone. Blood spattered her face and hair, Rukia harshly twisted her wrist, sidestepping the last one's guttural battlecry and stepped behind the human with shunpo speed, plunging Sode no Shirayuki through his heart.
By the time she had turned, Okita had already cut down his opponents and sunk down to his knees, gasping.
"How far-?"
"Two miles distant." she murmured, shaking droplets from her sword before resheathing it. Her eyes filled with pity as she walked up to him, unafraid of the bone-white hair and flicker of pain-filled red eyes.
"Figures.."
"What?"
"It'd be you." he said softly, body collapsing. She caught him from falling flat and marveled at the coldness of his skin. "Don't talk, reserve your strength, Okita-kun." she situated him as comfortable as possible with his resting in her lap. Before her eyes, the bone-white drained away to leave the sweat-drenched strands their natural color, the green of his eyes returned but they were cloudy, unfocused.
"...think you can fix me?"
No. She wasn't Unohana or even Orihime. Rukia didn't want to lie to him. She knew she couldn't pull a miracle. "Sorry."
"Hah. Guess it was worth asking."
"I'm sorry."
He stirred with difficulty, "for what?"
She shook her head, biting her lip. She didn't want to cry because that was a weakness, but to smile was worthless. She settled for in-between: helplessness. "..for you not having a pretty face to look at before you go."
A hint of humor remained and his mouth, blood stains dried in the cracked corners, lifted lopsided.
"I rescind that..." his breathing became more labored. Rukia felt the brush of death - like herself - but without form or a face enclosing the space around them, wrapping the human male's body in a tight grip of mortality's coil.
"You're not...unpleasant to look at."
He died with a contented look on his face. Seconds before his body evaporated, she took up the sword lying in the grass near her hip and left the mark of Konso on his forehead. Hijikata and the small fleet of soldiers found her sitting in the early morning sunshine, ash, clothing and a sword stuck in the ground were all that remained of the First Division Captain.
She did not cry.
...
Warriors did not speak their emotions.
Emotions made one weak. Her brother taught her that, Hijikata emulated the warrior-ideal. Though he irritated her when he spoke, when he said, "Kuchiki-kun." when she was serving him, acting the perfect little pageboy/girl now that the fate of the Shinsengumi was imminent.
No one spoke it.
"How did she die?" Rukia finally asked, catching Harada plucking disconsolately at a late summer bloom. It was the last splotch of monochrome in the dying green, a brisk night autumn wind stirred his hair, brushed her cheeks. She had hardly seen Harada outside after Nagakura and Heisuke-kun had disappeared fighting enemy soldiers. It was known to her now about the fate of the Rasetsu, turning into dust once their life force was extinguished.
Harada was pale but managed a tiny smile for her. "So you've noticed?"
"Other than Hijikata-san's antipathy toward pagegirls serving him tea, yes." Rukia sounded almost bitter - even to herself and couldn't fathom why. Harada's hand closed upon the fragile bloom, the crimson bandages stood out starkly against the pure white.
"She was the daughter of Koudou Yukimura-san, the one whom created the Ochimizu our dear Sannan-san perfected for our downfall."
She had heard the names but listened in rapt attention as he unfolded a story of tragedy.
Chizuru was in fact the very opposite of 'Kuchiki-san' a sweet, happy girl whom has fate would have it, was a pure-blood oni whose blood...was the possible antidote to the Rasetsu's bloodlust. At least Sannan-san had believed so, going further one month prior to 'Kuchiki-san's' appearance on the Edo street, to murder Chizuru-chan with a silver blade and drink her blood.
Rukia had paled in horror, murmuring sadly, "oh how dreadful. That poor, poor girl."
Harada's face reflected sadness, his lank red hair refined from a fire engine red, hung lankly to fringe the back of his neck and sides of his face. "It did...save some portion of Sannan-san's humanity, at least his bodily form. He tried at first to pin Chizuru-chan's murder on the Rasetsu unit but Hijikata-san caught him trying to feed a vial of blood to one of the afflicted. Sannan-san confessed once confronted by Hijikata-san and Kondou-san. He freely admitted to the deed, going as far to say he had done it in the name of the Shinsengumi...to save us all." Harada sounded terribly bitter, a bite of anger lingering.
Rukia was at a loss at what to say. "Did he - was he executed?" she finally asked in a small voice. Harada closed his eyes, smiling humorlessly. "He was. We all watched him commit forced Seppuku in the courtyard." His bright eyes opened, a flicker of feral anger passed through them. "But then...one month after his death, Okita-kun's patrol reported the shape of a man matching Sannan-san's description."
She didn't need the reminder of time to put two and two together. Her eyes widened and she gasped, "y-you mean- he was that Hollow-?"
"Aa."
She shuddered in revulsion, thinking then that she shouldn't have expected any less. Keisuke Sannan had murdered an innocent and had not repented of his crime before death. He was as prime a candidate as any to become a Hollow. That too explained why Kondou-san and the main Shinsengumi Captains had been out in force to confront the shade of the dead man. It then occurred to Rukia that perhaps in this...timeline, they had been meant to die at the claws of the Hollow. But then she had appeared. But why had the Hollow in Karakura town in the year 2010 call her name? Sannan-san hadn't met her. Nor she him. Something about that stirred unease in her body and she endeavored to forget it.
"Thank you..for telling me, Harada-san."
"You're welcome for whatever it's worth, Kuchiki-san." His fingers loosened their desperate grasp on the bloom and instead swiftly snipped it from its base, holding it out to her, petals slightly wilted from the heat of his hand, the color a perfect white.
Speechless, the words lodged in her throat, hesitantly Rukia took it, Harada reached out with his free hand and enclosed hers with both of his. "Can you promise me something, Kuchiki-san?"
"Wha-what is it?"
"Will you stay with Hijikata-san...to the end?"
Rukia froze, her dark blue eyes searching the redhead's face, hoping for some spark of amusement meaning a play, a joke. But all she saw was utter seriousness, a kind of frantic despair glimmering in his hazel eyes.
"I-I can't-" and tried to withdraw from a promise she knew she could keep.
Harada clung on, his grip tightening. "Promise me. I haven't got long to live-"
"What're you saying!" she hissed, unwilling to turn her strength against the fragile human. "Harada-san! You're his friend! I'm nothing! He doesn't even..." her breath caught. There it was again. That strange fluttering pain in her heart, stinging with her admittance. The why she couldn't keep the promise Harada Sanosuke wanted of her. Rukia however was one never to shy from the truth and went on calmer, quieter, "Hijikata-san despises me."
Harada's expression softened, he pressed the flower in her hand, making sure her tiny fingers were clasped over it before withdrawing. "You're wrong, Kuchiki-san. You're not and will never be...Chizuru-chan's replacement. You're your own person...and," a quirk of dry cheer that had a ring of Okita-kun to it, "the only girl or person I know to slap Hijikata-san and live the next day."
"You're kidding." she half-muttered, believing it anyway.
"I'm not."
The Rasetsu and the Death God cracked weak grins at each other, neither quite what could be defined as human. Rukia was the first to withdraw, composing her face with a placid mask, a solemn as any vow forming on her lips.
"I..I will...to the best of my ability, Harada-san, do you what you asked of me."
He smiled again, but this time contentedly. "Is it too much to ask, Kuchiki-san, for a difference in name?"
A little surprised, she frowned then smirked, "Sano-san, then."
"Aa. Rukia-san."
"Would you help me prepare tea for our dear vice-commander, he may find yours more palatable."
...
She was sad.
Even more than with the past deaths, when a week later, Sanosuke fought his longtime nemesis (*) and both vanished from the face of the earth.
"Who are you truly?" the shade of him, her friend, asked, translucent, flickering in the forest glen.
Rukia quietly and swiftly withdrew her katana, flipping it hilt upward. She had already dealt with the oni-servant of Chikage Kazama. "A death god. If it gives you peace, Sano-san, I will make sure Hijikata-san never becomes a Hollow."
"If you are with him at the end, then yes, it will." Sano murmured, closing his eyes.
Her eyes welled up, deftly she pressed the Konso mark to his forehead, watching as the man became a burst of soul-light and transformed into a single crimson-striped jigokucho.
Once he had disappeared from the earthly plain, Rukia released a soft sob into the air and her katana fell from her hand to the soft ground. "I'm sorry...sorry...Sano-san." If ever she had forgotten, this now brought home to her the undeniable truth of human mortality.
...
In her room that night, she slipped out the vial Urahara had given her.
It was past midnight, the moon was traversing a cloudy winter sky. The room was cold, but death-incarnate didn't shiver when she made the tea in the cold kitchen. The thin glass felt warm in her hand. Rukia tilted the corked cap to her lips and bit down, unsealing the vial. She stared at the pot and dumped the contents in, giving it a swirl, unmindful of the hot clay her palms clutched.
"It's all...I can do." she murmured, bearing the tray dry-eyed to the room where the light still burned.
He would die yes...all mortals must eventually.
But he would die a human.
Never a monster.
...
Life continued, the cold chill of winter kept Rukia inside, unsure of whether or not it was a bad sign that she - death herself, felt the cold like a human. Her kimono was too thin, the sakat loaned for long marches hardly did anything and twice she had to hold back a sneeze when serving.
Once she saw a black-clad figure leaping across the rooftops, it wasn't Urahara. That gave her the closest feeling of panic she'd felt for a long time. Later on, once behind thin walls and suppressing her reiatsu tightly, she had stopped to wonder why the sight of her brethren- even ones from the past, filled her with such fear?
Was it knowing that if the truth were known she would be dragged back to Soul Society and executed for consorting with humans? She didn't fear execution so much as being away from the taciturn, often silent (with her) man. He was human, yes. He didn't goad her so much as tolerate her.
They had dropped the act of, "Kuchiki-san." forgetting to stress the importance of her being a 'boy' when there were other more pressing matters to be dealt with.
She was a fixture - even if her tea wasn't good.
...
Exactly when it had happened, Rukia couldn't pinpoint.
That feeling of anticipation, subtle fluttering like nervousness, the same feeling she had when soaring through the night sky...it struck her senseless the deep evening in a room wrapped by oil lamp and the inkpot ran dry. A soft curse was uttered. She sat near the door, to one side like a sentinel on a tatami mat, Sode no Shirayuki resting against her shoulder. At her hip, the brocaded box Urahara had slipped into her valise with a barely legible note something about needing it at opportune times. As an added amusement the young Urahara Kisuke had signed carelessly with - to my favorite and first customer.
That had made her smile even if she had destroyed the note now as tiny drawers in the cabinet were rustled through, she tentatively broke her stiff stance and clasped the box.
"Here." she said, inflectionless.
The man in his travel-rumpled clothes, paused in his search, stiffening at the address and began subtly to turn around, his look at first questioning changing to understanding when alighting on the offering.
"Thank...you." the words seemed to encumber Hijikata's usually quick tongue, his gaze had risen and rested on her face. Outside the winter wind howled around the eaves of the abandoned temple. Kondou-san had gone by ship to their last destination on Ezo island. Hijikata's injuries had necessitated staying back, traveling slower. As his page, she stayed with him, bidding the commander she had come to know as a fair, good man, goodbye on the docks.
Rukia could not shake the feeling that would be the last time she would see Kondou Isami alive. She kept her reservations to herself, the thoughts of death and human mortality rushing back with full dizzying force when her dark blue eyes connected to Hijikata's violet ones.
Time felt immemorial wasting her breath, stealing away the moments.
"Kuchiki -"
"Don't." and she thought she knew what he was going to say. Fourteen months together. She had spent seventeen and longer watching Ichigo Kurosaki grow. Just fourteen with a man she knew was going to die had been enough to destroy her resolve as death's emissary. If she had thought the eventual creation Kisuke Urahara was going to build, the reiatsu-sealing Gigai, a crime punishable by death as it gave death a new life, a fake life, but one nonetheless. If she had believed then that it was foolhardy to place a heart, belief in a human like Ichigo, she had been damned to make the fatal mistake 144 years in the past.
But he did not understand.
Taijiya. The lost Taijiya. Not Shinigami.
She didn't want to go down that road. Not of fleeting happiness replaced by colder sorrow.
"Rukia."
Their hands touched. Hers felt like ice compared to his warm, strong one.
"Rest." he intoned, she was barely conscious of the slip of paper pressed into her folded palm.
...
She awoke to sunlight streaming in through the gaping holes in the thin walls and shoji door leading to the outside. Rukia realized as she stretched and stifled her yawn...that it was her birthday. The realization felt random, nonsensical though she was meant to be eighteen - to the humans, but would remain youthful for decades.
But that wasn't enough to damper her spirits. From the valise she withdrew the folded garments that smelled of cedar. A white tunic with close-fitting trousers accompanied by a long violet-colored over vest in a swirled pattern. For her waist, a wide sash meant to be slung like a short sarong in fringed violet and the last touch was a pair of dainty lace-up boots. Now she dressed in them, ruffling the short ends of her hair after raking her fingers through the black strands. She was not beautiful - and never dreamed of being it. But she felt like she belonged.
The last thing she did, was open the tiny missive the vice-commander had pressed into her hand.
Bring me to springtime
Take me away from winter.
Warm me, open meimages can lie
so can words. tell me with touch
the truth of your soul.
Will tomorrow bring a fleeting vision of happiness?
She had heard Okita-kun tease Hijikata about his Haiku but never had she read any of it, not being the more curious sort to resort to stealing a book.
The meaning did not escape her.
"Will you stay with me until the end?"
Unbidden the tears she wanted to shed over the fate of man, threatened to break her floodgates. The Shinigami so far from home crumpled down with a heavy heart and listened to the birdsong in the trees. It was her birthday, somehow it struck her as irony. Fate mocking her bowed form with something tantalizingly elusive, before her eyes but forever from her grasp.
She remembered her promise to Sanosuke and righted herself on the aged floor.
A scrap of parchment and inkpot were hastily thrown in her valise and she retrieved them, her hand shaking so badly that ink splotched the creamy paper. She had been trained in Ikebana, tea service and other things considered pleasant by Noble families. Composing had never been her strong suit.
As Rukia formed the words, giving flight to her jumbled thoughts on paper - she thought it over and over. Yes. A million times yes. Whether a day or your lifetime... she finished, strapping Sode no Shirayuki on. The yukionna was silent, all censure past for it was too late - much too late to stop the inevitable.
She slipped his missive into her breast pocket and clasped the other tightly in her hand, striding confidently from her dilapidated room to the inner engawa where a door was sliding open three down.
"Rukia...?"
Not -san, not, -chan. No more honorific. She thought of Sanosuke one last time and felt awash inside of inner happiness that her promise would be kept to him, "T-Toshi-"
Their eyes locked.
He started to smile, unique with a hint of shyness surprising for the forthright vice-commander.
She started to smile too, her heart lifting in her breast, the coldness finally evaporating in the warmth of that smile. "Toshizo, I-" and she felt it. Kami she felt the rush of blackness descend eerily beneath her feet, the sensation of falling even while her polished leather boots were solid set on the ground. Rukia willed her every nerve, fiber, vessel to remain in the morning sunshine, in the subtly frosted morning of January 14th. 1869.
Fourteen months.
Fourteenth of January.
She had served Sake to the Shinsengumi Captains - Heisuke, Shinpachi, Sanosuke, Souji, Hajime, Isami Kondou and ...Toshizo. Everyone... she wanted to choke, the cry burbling up in her throat. Everyone was alive on January 14th 1868.
This was 1869 and only she and Hijikata were there.
Their faces blurred and the decaying engawa phased into sight, the face of the vice-commander shimmered, his smile faltering as he looked at her, sensing something amiss.
"I-" and she took a step forward and found herself falling down the proverbial rabbit hole, like foolish Alice whom wandered from the path. Rukia had chosen the wrong road and the face she wanted to hold onto - that stubborn, arrogant man - was gone.
Rukia had chosen the wrong road.
Hijikata Toshizo had not lead to home.
...
In the shoten, she grasped the present Urahara Kisuke, clawed at his ridiculous green haori and tan yukata underneath, dragging him closer to her height, to her plain far from where he could act like God.
"I never even got to say goodbye!" she screeched in his face, furious at the unfairness of it all.
"But you're here now," he said, unaffected from the anguish burning in her eyes. "You're where you belong." His logic threatened to take the ground away from her feet. She released him and stepped back, not crying - Rukia Kuchiki would not cry before this man.
"I told you, Kuchiki-san, what would happen if you meddled with time. If you..." his voice dropped down. "Opened your heart." She flinched as if slapped, taking faltering steps back.
"I never wanted this." she said slowly, "I never meant-" for it to turn out this way.
"No one does." Urahara said almost sadly, and she could see the young man he'd been, lingering shadow-like over the old man. She didn't have to ask - really, she was intelligent enough to know that in the modern year of 2012, he did not exist anymore.
Was it age? She couldn't bring herself to ask. How much of history did she change by her actions? Rukia didn't ask but not because she was afraid. Then because it felt like part of her had been cut away with a sharp blade, she rallied some of her inner strength, going on as calmly as she could.
They could've been discussing the weather and not the fact that her heart was breaking.
"Does Ichigo know?"
"No. Only that you've been gone a year and four months. He asked me to bring you back from that wherever you were."
She could only nod, hold her head high. He gave her a shihakusho to change into, let her gather up her western clothes and place them in a bag. He offered to dispose of them but she shook her head and slung them over her shoulder. It was the last thing Kondou Isami had given her.
With everything done, she left the shoten to rejoin the world of the living in the year 2012.
There were condensed explanations of course.
A Lieutenant position to take up again; Ukitake, the patient and kind man had waited for her, not giving up that she would be found. When they spoke again, she was reminded of Okita-kun. A remembrance that hurt - no matter her brave face, her mask was easily discerned and Ukitake had asked her what was wrong? Wasn't she happy?
"Just thinking about someone else." she had answered, smilingly cryptic to the last. Just a strong young man who had died of tuberculosis. At least she knew his soul hadn't been eaten by Hollows. Later on, she laughed at Ichigo's worried scowl and asked if he thought she couldn't take care of herself? Careful more with someone whom had been able to read her innermost feelings.
Somehow he was easier to fool on the surface.
He scowled and stamped his feet and swore and called her a 'midget' without the usual bite.
But somehow there wasn't the same closeness as before.
Rukia didn't try to probe it too deeply. There were some wounds that couldn't be healed by proximity, because Ichigo wasn't the one whom had caused them.
...
She left for Soul Society.
Worked.
She declined Renji's three - time attempt to ask her out, feeling detached, polite to a Noble's proper manner when doing so. He was hurt - blamed Ichigo quite loudly - but she let him think that.
Renji would sulk for a time but eventually come around.
He had to understand - everyone did - that it would never be Ichigo. Not in that deep secret part of her heart.
...
May 11 2012.
She asked for leave, received it with surprise and left for the living world.
Urahara was smoking in his shop when she arrived. He quirked a brow at her appearance but readied a Gigai anyway, one in a sleeveless white summer dress and straw sunhat tied with a white ribbon. She had brought plain sandals and a bag of incense and other things.
"So, it's that time, huh?"
She ignored his probing look and laid down the exact yen for her purchases. "Don't tell Ichigo I'm here." was her one request. The shopkeeper eyed her strangely but shrugged, "I won't."
When she was on her way to the back of the shop to change, he said quieter, "that's one promise you can count on me keeping, Kuchiki-san."
...
Historically no one knew 'exactly' where he was buried.
"Though my body may decay on the island of Ezo, My spirit guards my lord in the east."
She had committed the lines to memory, thinking of them then, walking through the quiet cemetery. The sunshine was warm to her cold soul, the hat casting shadow on her face, hiding it from the few civilians milling around. Eventually she reached the memorial section and the statue erected in his honor.
Rukia was aware of the last visitor departing the stone-tablet filled realm.
She was alone.
A breeze lifted her dress, gently buffeting it.
"I have your answer..." she said softly, not feeling like Rukia Kuchiki the Soul reaper, slayer of Hollows or 'honorary' defender of the Lord of Aizu. She was 'Rukia' from the morning of her birthday in 1869. With a tiny smile on her face, she withdrew the folded paper, heavy unlike the light scrolls from Soul Society or the blue-lined notebook sheets of the modern world.
Unfolded the creamy manila to reveal her inelegant writing:
Thinking of you wherever you are.
we pray for our sorrows to end and hope that our hearts will blend....now I will step forward to realize this wish.
Rukia felt her throat close up, she didn't cry. The other missive lay heaviest against her heart,
Bring me to springtime
Take me away from winter.
Warm me, open meimages can lie
so can words. tell me with touch
the truth of your soul.
Will tomorrow bring a fleeting vision of happiness?
The question. Her answer. Everything had lead down to the moment when Urahara had broken his promise. Rukia saw the irony of the last line, her line, smattered with an ink droplet from a hasty brush.
She had stepped forward - with it - and had watched the world go dark, change into the one she had left. What had he told those whom were left? That she had walked away - found her place with the slayers again? It was something she would never know, placing the two missives together and igniting them in the incense bowl. The paper curled and blackened, wisps of fragrant smoke arising from it.
Watching it burn she knew with a heavy-hearted sadness, there were some things that were not meant to be.
-Finis-
Song inspiration: All around me-Flyleaf & Far away - Nickelback
Disclaimer: don't own HSK or Bleach.
AN: for 64 Damn-Prompts, I wanted to do something different. Yeah, certify the queenie-chan of Rukiax? crack fics C meaning xovers. In tackling HSK, I thought of a mix of first season and second with the opening episode of Hekketsu Roku as a kind of beginner for the chapter. For Bleach it's post 17 month timeskip without current last arc ties. I wonder if everyone got the fact that when Rukia first came upon the Hollow in Karakura town in the beginning of the story, it said her name - it was Hijikata and not Sannan-san like she had thought. (btw, sorry Chizuru had to die ):
No flames!
Reviews loved ^^