May flashfic for tsukitaichou.
Title: Four of Cups
For: tsukitaichou
By: empath-eia
Request: Isshin/Ryuuken
Genres: Drama, introspection, romance, slight humour, hint of darkness.
Rating: T
Wordcount: 2277
Notes: Spoilers up to chapter 241.
Their sons go to hell. They deal with the aftermath.
Four of Cups
I Ching, Hexagram, three difficulties at the beginning. An autumn scene is sad, but sweet. It describes the possibilities of growth from a situation that appears dark and heavy.
-Haindl tarot
xxxxx
Hey, you.
(pause)
Looks like he ran away, Ishida.
...How did you get in here, Kurosaki?
Oh, what's this? That's the first time you've ever called me that. Why the sudden change of heart?
Answer my question. How did you enter and wh-- that form. Your powers have returned, then?
I guess. Looks good on me, doesn't it?
On the contrary, I think I may vomit.
Why, thank you ever so much. ...Are you gonna read it? That letter there.
Why bother? I already know what it says. No need to waste my time.
So you let him loose on purpose, then.
You seem very sure of that. I simply restored his Quincy powers. Now, whether he keeps them or loses them again is completely up to him. Same goes for his life.
You are such a shitty father.
Just trying to one-up you.
Touché.
xxxxx
"So, how about dinner?" asks Isshin brightly.
Ryuuken butts his cigarette out on his son's farewell letter and closes his eyes when it smoulders and catches flame. A moment later there is nothing left where it lay but a pile of pale grey ashes. A wave of his hand, and they vanish into the air. "Fine, but I'll pick the restaurant this time."
Isshin drags up a wounded expression and pastes it on, slightly off-center. "What's wrong with MacDonalds?"
.
"I am not going to answer that."
"Spoilsport. I'll go pick up my body and meet you back here in an hour." Without pausing for affirmation, Isshin turns and leaves with a cheeky wave over his shoulder just as the door closes behind him.
Ryuuken scowls.
They have been friends for a very long time, but that doesn't mean Ryuuken likes him.
xxxxx
"Your order, monsieurs?" says the impeccable coiffed and polished waitress, whose smile is sweeter than anything.
Isshin thrusts his hand up into the air, nearly hitting her in the face, and says "One of everything!"
Ryuuken hisses and kicks him under the table. "I'll have the usual, Tomoko. The cordon bleu for my friend."
"Is there anything I can bring you from the wine menu, sir?"
"What's your house white today?"
Tomoko rattles off something incomprehensible in French, which Ryuuken seems to understand.
"That will do."
She bows and slips away through the tables, graceful as an otter. Ryuuken catches Isshin watching her and quirks an eyebrow.
"Shall I introduce you?" he asks dryly.
Isshin grins and scratches at his head sheepishly. "Nah. I just appreciate a pretty face when I see one is all."
"And a pert bottom."
"I'm only human."
"Not quite," says Ryuuken quietly.
Isshin's smile fades. "No, not quite," he agrees.
The wine arrives. It is dark and clear and even smells expensive. Ryuuken fills both their glasses with easily, hardly looking, accustomed to dealing with things of great monetary value. Isshin wants to comment on how it wonderful it would be if he were that adept at handling something else of great value, but stops himself in a rare moment of restraint. Dinner has been going so well. It would be a waste of a perfectly civil conversation to start a fight now.
"I cannot believe you came here wearing that," Ryuuken says to fill the silence.
Isshin looks down at his red-and-white plaid shirt, khaki slacks, and black shoes, then back up at Ryuuken blankly. "What's wrong with this?"
"Do you want the short list or the long?"
"Either's fine, I won't have a clue what you're talking about anyway. You're worse than a girl."
Ryuuken sighs. "Never mind, Kurosaki."
"There's that name again," Isshin notes, sitting up a bit straighter. "Mind explaining that? We've been friends for eighteen years and during all of those, you've always called me by my given name. Did I do something to tick you off?"
"You mean aside from existing?" snaps Ryuuken, then visibly forces himself to relax. He closes his eyes, adjusts his glasses, runs his left hand through his hair. They are his mannerisms when he is agitated, He mentally kicks himself, knowing that Isshin won't have missed them. "No, you haven't done anything wrong."
Isshin's gaze is hard, unflinching. "Then why the sudden formality, Ishida. You'd better start explaining or I might have to--"
"Get rough?" Ryuuken finishes for him with a harsh frown. "You always say that. It drives me crazy. You could at least try to have some class."
"Don't change the subject," Isshin warns softly.
Ryuuken meets his eyes, grey against black, and wonders that he could possibly say that his friend would understand. How can he possibly explain what he's feeling, these irrational impulses that beat against the walls of his self-control? He wants to explain himself, he really does, but he simply doesn't have the words for this.
Tomoko, demonstrating her usual impeccable timing, arrives with the food. Isshin interrupts his marathon glare to smile and thank her with a wink. She blushes and bows lower than she needs to, and Isshin regards her lowered head fondly. The moment she turns her back to leave, however, the glare is back.
"Talk," he growls.
Isshin drops his gaze and picks absently at his quiche alsacienne. "If it bothers you so much--"
"It does bother me," interrupts Isshin, unusually candid. "If you don't want to be friends anymore, there are better ways to break it off than this."
"It's not that," Ryuuken assures him, a little too quickly. "I may not like you most of the time, but if I ever decided I did not wish to associate with you any longer, you would know it."
"Then what is it?" Isshin half-yells. "Spit it out, you cold bastard, you're driving me nuts here. I'm not a girl. I'm not psychic. I have no idea what's going through your idiotic white head right now, so you'd better tell me or I'll start guessing."
Ryuuken takes a long swallow of extremely expensive wine, sets his glass down, and folds his hand on the table around his plate. "My son just followed yours into hell," he says slowly, carefully, "and I let him go."
Isshin looks unsurprisingly confused. "Well, yes. So... who exactly are you angry with, here? My son for being dumb enough to charge into a place like that without a plan or proper backup? Your son for being dumb enough to follow him? Or me for not stopping them? In that case, you share equal blame."
"I know!" snaps Ryuuken. He rarely loses his calm, but Isshin is getting far too close to the heart of the matter for comfort. "I know it's my fault just as much as it is yours, but... they are most likely going to their deaths, Isshin." He tilts his glasses into the light so that no one can see his eyes-- an old trick, one he is thankful for right now.
"You knew that when you let him go. They're children, but they know what's important to them... which is more than I can say for the two of us."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean we're both idiots, old friend."
Ryuuken looks up to meet Isshin's rueful gaze, and can't even bring himself to make a comeback to that. "Your cordon bleu will get tough when it cools," he says instead, feeling oddly deflated. "You had better eat it before that happens."
"Why didn't you tell me cordo-whatsit was actually awesome steak? I'd've come out to this place with you a lot earlier if you had, you know."
"Excuse me for forgetting that you're a heathen."
"And proud of it," says Isshin with a rogueish wink.
His quiche is cold. He isn't hungry, but he eats it to avoid Isshin's nagging.
When the cheque comes, he slaps Isshin's hand away and puts his credit card down. It's an old ritual. Neither of them even have to look to perform it anymore. Isshin always tries to pitch in, Ryuuken always stops him. Usually Isshin protests and Ryuuken tells him to spend it on presents for his girls, but today they're both too tired.
"I don't know about you," says Isshin finally as they're getting up to leave, "but I could really use a proper drink."
xxxxx
The lights of Karakura Town spread out beneath them, orange and impersonal. The light reflects harshly from the low, thin cover of clouds. It's beautiful only in a detached, cold way, but they know that under those glaring lights live thousands of people whom they have spent their lives trying to save and protect. They're invisible from this high and far away, but no matter how strange the town looks at night, it is still their home. They both love this view.
One empty bottle of sake lies askew on the grass between them next to one still half-full. The glass is so dark green in looks almost black in the city glare.
They are both pleasantly drunk, enough so that Ryuuken is heedless of the grass staining his white shirt. Isshin is singing some bawdy carol he learned in Soul Society about shinigami girls at the top of his lungs.
"Do you think they'll come back alive?" Ryuuken asks suddenly.
Isshin should never have been able to hear him over the sound of his own voice, but he stops singing anyway and regards Ryuuken with gentle, sad eyes. "I don't know, old friend," he says. "I really don't. I like to think so. It's true that they went for all the right reasons, and from what I've seen so far... if anyone can pull off a miracle, it's our kids. Even if they are idiots, they have more power than they know what to do with."
"I like to think so too," whispers Ryuuken, "but I still can't help but feel that if they die, it'll be my fault."
"It will be," says Isshin brutally, smile not reducing the blow at all. "Yours and mine both. It's just the burden we have to live with as parents, for raising our children to be such good people."
Ryuuken smiles bitterly. "My son hates me," he says, "I made sure of it so that he wouldn't feel obligated to include me in his decisions. I didn't want him to follow in my footsteps, so I made him hate the path I chose. Was that very stupid of me?"
"Completely moronic," agrees Isshin, shuffling closer to pat him on the back. "My son doesn't hate me, but neither does he really have any idea who I am, so I'm just as moronic as you are in that respect. We both kept them at arm's length so they'd have to decide what sort of people to be all on their own, but we've paid the price for it."
"Chitose would have known what to do," Ryuuken whispers, almost too quiet to be heard. "If only she was here."
Isshin drags himself across the last few inches between them to put a comforting arm around Ryuuken. The sake bottles clink cheerily together, trapped between their legs. "I miss Masaki too."
Just drunk enough to allow it, Ryuuken leans into Isshin and retrieves the one that's still partially full to take a long gulp. In five minutes it will be October twelfth. A new day, a new dawn which their sons will never see from where they stand.
"Do you think they will be angry with us when they see us next?" asks Ryuuken. "Our wives? We've botched things up so badly without them."
"I don't think so," replies Isshin after a moment. "We've done the best we could without them. If they were so worried, they shouldn't have left."
"They hardly had a choice," Ryuuken reminds him.
"I know," Isshin says quietly, and leans his head against Ryuuken's. "I know."
Above them, the clouds clear slightly, just enough to let a bit of starlight through. The stars are blurry with city-haze, but their yellow glow is somehow cheering. They are silent for many minutes, just watching the clouds shift and blur across their drunken vision.
"We should really go home."
"I'm not certain I can stand."
"Does that mean I have to carry you again? You are such a lightweight, Ishida."
"I had more than you did."
"No, you didn't." Isshin, his movements slightly sloppy but otherwise unaffected by the quantity of sake he'd imbibed, scoops Ryuuken's lanky frame off the ground and sets him on his feet. "Sure you can't walk?"
Ryuuken tries, and stumbles after only a few steps. "I'm sorry, Isshin."
"It's all right. You know I love watching you like this after all your hoity-toity prancing."
"Kurosaki, you are a bastard. Remind me: why are we friends?"
"Because no one else would carry your bony butt home after you've had to much to drink. Come on, get on, don't just stand there swooning like a girl."
With some difficulty, Ryuuken manages to secure himself on Isshin's back, thighs clamped securely around Isshin's powerful waist and arms slung around his neck. "This is humiliating."
Isshin snorts. "Well, you shouldn't have had so much to drink, then, you idiot. And besides, you shouldn't complain so much when I'm carrying you, because let me tell you, you weigh a ton."
"I do not," slurs Ryuuken, obscurely offended. "I weigh less than you."
"Yeah, but I weigh two tons."
"You do not."
They bicker like this, easy and inconsequential, all the way home. Their voices protect them from the heavy silence of the streets at night, and their closeness keeps them warm when the chill of October sets in.
xxxxx
There is nothing left for them to do but pray, so though neither of them are religious men, they do.
XxxxxxX
A/N: This wants to be longer. I may write more. Keep a weather eye. ~__^
For: tsukitaichou
By: empath-eia
Request: Isshin/Ryuuken
Genres: Drama, introspection, romance, slight humour, hint of darkness.
Rating: T
Wordcount: 2277
Notes: Spoilers up to chapter 241.
Their sons go to hell. They deal with the aftermath.
Four of Cups
I Ching, Hexagram, three difficulties at the beginning. An autumn scene is sad, but sweet. It describes the possibilities of growth from a situation that appears dark and heavy.
-Haindl tarot
xxxxx
Hey, you.
(pause)
Looks like he ran away, Ishida.
...How did you get in here, Kurosaki?
Oh, what's this? That's the first time you've ever called me that. Why the sudden change of heart?
Answer my question. How did you enter and wh-- that form. Your powers have returned, then?
I guess. Looks good on me, doesn't it?
On the contrary, I think I may vomit.
Why, thank you ever so much. ...Are you gonna read it? That letter there.
Why bother? I already know what it says. No need to waste my time.
So you let him loose on purpose, then.
You seem very sure of that. I simply restored his Quincy powers. Now, whether he keeps them or loses them again is completely up to him. Same goes for his life.
You are such a shitty father.
Just trying to one-up you.
Touché.
xxxxx
"So, how about dinner?" asks Isshin brightly.
Ryuuken butts his cigarette out on his son's farewell letter and closes his eyes when it smoulders and catches flame. A moment later there is nothing left where it lay but a pile of pale grey ashes. A wave of his hand, and they vanish into the air. "Fine, but I'll pick the restaurant this time."
Isshin drags up a wounded expression and pastes it on, slightly off-center. "What's wrong with MacDonalds?"
.
"I am not going to answer that."
"Spoilsport. I'll go pick up my body and meet you back here in an hour." Without pausing for affirmation, Isshin turns and leaves with a cheeky wave over his shoulder just as the door closes behind him.
Ryuuken scowls.
They have been friends for a very long time, but that doesn't mean Ryuuken likes him.
xxxxx
"Your order, monsieurs?" says the impeccable coiffed and polished waitress, whose smile is sweeter than anything.
Isshin thrusts his hand up into the air, nearly hitting her in the face, and says "One of everything!"
Ryuuken hisses and kicks him under the table. "I'll have the usual, Tomoko. The cordon bleu for my friend."
"Is there anything I can bring you from the wine menu, sir?"
"What's your house white today?"
Tomoko rattles off something incomprehensible in French, which Ryuuken seems to understand.
"That will do."
She bows and slips away through the tables, graceful as an otter. Ryuuken catches Isshin watching her and quirks an eyebrow.
"Shall I introduce you?" he asks dryly.
Isshin grins and scratches at his head sheepishly. "Nah. I just appreciate a pretty face when I see one is all."
"And a pert bottom."
"I'm only human."
"Not quite," says Ryuuken quietly.
Isshin's smile fades. "No, not quite," he agrees.
The wine arrives. It is dark and clear and even smells expensive. Ryuuken fills both their glasses with easily, hardly looking, accustomed to dealing with things of great monetary value. Isshin wants to comment on how it wonderful it would be if he were that adept at handling something else of great value, but stops himself in a rare moment of restraint. Dinner has been going so well. It would be a waste of a perfectly civil conversation to start a fight now.
"I cannot believe you came here wearing that," Ryuuken says to fill the silence.
Isshin looks down at his red-and-white plaid shirt, khaki slacks, and black shoes, then back up at Ryuuken blankly. "What's wrong with this?"
"Do you want the short list or the long?"
"Either's fine, I won't have a clue what you're talking about anyway. You're worse than a girl."
Ryuuken sighs. "Never mind, Kurosaki."
"There's that name again," Isshin notes, sitting up a bit straighter. "Mind explaining that? We've been friends for eighteen years and during all of those, you've always called me by my given name. Did I do something to tick you off?"
"You mean aside from existing?" snaps Ryuuken, then visibly forces himself to relax. He closes his eyes, adjusts his glasses, runs his left hand through his hair. They are his mannerisms when he is agitated, He mentally kicks himself, knowing that Isshin won't have missed them. "No, you haven't done anything wrong."
Isshin's gaze is hard, unflinching. "Then why the sudden formality, Ishida. You'd better start explaining or I might have to--"
"Get rough?" Ryuuken finishes for him with a harsh frown. "You always say that. It drives me crazy. You could at least try to have some class."
"Don't change the subject," Isshin warns softly.
Ryuuken meets his eyes, grey against black, and wonders that he could possibly say that his friend would understand. How can he possibly explain what he's feeling, these irrational impulses that beat against the walls of his self-control? He wants to explain himself, he really does, but he simply doesn't have the words for this.
Tomoko, demonstrating her usual impeccable timing, arrives with the food. Isshin interrupts his marathon glare to smile and thank her with a wink. She blushes and bows lower than she needs to, and Isshin regards her lowered head fondly. The moment she turns her back to leave, however, the glare is back.
"Talk," he growls.
Isshin drops his gaze and picks absently at his quiche alsacienne. "If it bothers you so much--"
"It does bother me," interrupts Isshin, unusually candid. "If you don't want to be friends anymore, there are better ways to break it off than this."
"It's not that," Ryuuken assures him, a little too quickly. "I may not like you most of the time, but if I ever decided I did not wish to associate with you any longer, you would know it."
"Then what is it?" Isshin half-yells. "Spit it out, you cold bastard, you're driving me nuts here. I'm not a girl. I'm not psychic. I have no idea what's going through your idiotic white head right now, so you'd better tell me or I'll start guessing."
Ryuuken takes a long swallow of extremely expensive wine, sets his glass down, and folds his hand on the table around his plate. "My son just followed yours into hell," he says slowly, carefully, "and I let him go."
Isshin looks unsurprisingly confused. "Well, yes. So... who exactly are you angry with, here? My son for being dumb enough to charge into a place like that without a plan or proper backup? Your son for being dumb enough to follow him? Or me for not stopping them? In that case, you share equal blame."
"I know!" snaps Ryuuken. He rarely loses his calm, but Isshin is getting far too close to the heart of the matter for comfort. "I know it's my fault just as much as it is yours, but... they are most likely going to their deaths, Isshin." He tilts his glasses into the light so that no one can see his eyes-- an old trick, one he is thankful for right now.
"You knew that when you let him go. They're children, but they know what's important to them... which is more than I can say for the two of us."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean we're both idiots, old friend."
Ryuuken looks up to meet Isshin's rueful gaze, and can't even bring himself to make a comeback to that. "Your cordon bleu will get tough when it cools," he says instead, feeling oddly deflated. "You had better eat it before that happens."
"Why didn't you tell me cordo-whatsit was actually awesome steak? I'd've come out to this place with you a lot earlier if you had, you know."
"Excuse me for forgetting that you're a heathen."
"And proud of it," says Isshin with a rogueish wink.
His quiche is cold. He isn't hungry, but he eats it to avoid Isshin's nagging.
When the cheque comes, he slaps Isshin's hand away and puts his credit card down. It's an old ritual. Neither of them even have to look to perform it anymore. Isshin always tries to pitch in, Ryuuken always stops him. Usually Isshin protests and Ryuuken tells him to spend it on presents for his girls, but today they're both too tired.
"I don't know about you," says Isshin finally as they're getting up to leave, "but I could really use a proper drink."
xxxxx
The lights of Karakura Town spread out beneath them, orange and impersonal. The light reflects harshly from the low, thin cover of clouds. It's beautiful only in a detached, cold way, but they know that under those glaring lights live thousands of people whom they have spent their lives trying to save and protect. They're invisible from this high and far away, but no matter how strange the town looks at night, it is still their home. They both love this view.
One empty bottle of sake lies askew on the grass between them next to one still half-full. The glass is so dark green in looks almost black in the city glare.
They are both pleasantly drunk, enough so that Ryuuken is heedless of the grass staining his white shirt. Isshin is singing some bawdy carol he learned in Soul Society about shinigami girls at the top of his lungs.
"Do you think they'll come back alive?" Ryuuken asks suddenly.
Isshin should never have been able to hear him over the sound of his own voice, but he stops singing anyway and regards Ryuuken with gentle, sad eyes. "I don't know, old friend," he says. "I really don't. I like to think so. It's true that they went for all the right reasons, and from what I've seen so far... if anyone can pull off a miracle, it's our kids. Even if they are idiots, they have more power than they know what to do with."
"I like to think so too," whispers Ryuuken, "but I still can't help but feel that if they die, it'll be my fault."
"It will be," says Isshin brutally, smile not reducing the blow at all. "Yours and mine both. It's just the burden we have to live with as parents, for raising our children to be such good people."
Ryuuken smiles bitterly. "My son hates me," he says, "I made sure of it so that he wouldn't feel obligated to include me in his decisions. I didn't want him to follow in my footsteps, so I made him hate the path I chose. Was that very stupid of me?"
"Completely moronic," agrees Isshin, shuffling closer to pat him on the back. "My son doesn't hate me, but neither does he really have any idea who I am, so I'm just as moronic as you are in that respect. We both kept them at arm's length so they'd have to decide what sort of people to be all on their own, but we've paid the price for it."
"Chitose would have known what to do," Ryuuken whispers, almost too quiet to be heard. "If only she was here."
Isshin drags himself across the last few inches between them to put a comforting arm around Ryuuken. The sake bottles clink cheerily together, trapped between their legs. "I miss Masaki too."
Just drunk enough to allow it, Ryuuken leans into Isshin and retrieves the one that's still partially full to take a long gulp. In five minutes it will be October twelfth. A new day, a new dawn which their sons will never see from where they stand.
"Do you think they will be angry with us when they see us next?" asks Ryuuken. "Our wives? We've botched things up so badly without them."
"I don't think so," replies Isshin after a moment. "We've done the best we could without them. If they were so worried, they shouldn't have left."
"They hardly had a choice," Ryuuken reminds him.
"I know," Isshin says quietly, and leans his head against Ryuuken's. "I know."
Above them, the clouds clear slightly, just enough to let a bit of starlight through. The stars are blurry with city-haze, but their yellow glow is somehow cheering. They are silent for many minutes, just watching the clouds shift and blur across their drunken vision.
"We should really go home."
"I'm not certain I can stand."
"Does that mean I have to carry you again? You are such a lightweight, Ishida."
"I had more than you did."
"No, you didn't." Isshin, his movements slightly sloppy but otherwise unaffected by the quantity of sake he'd imbibed, scoops Ryuuken's lanky frame off the ground and sets him on his feet. "Sure you can't walk?"
Ryuuken tries, and stumbles after only a few steps. "I'm sorry, Isshin."
"It's all right. You know I love watching you like this after all your hoity-toity prancing."
"Kurosaki, you are a bastard. Remind me: why are we friends?"
"Because no one else would carry your bony butt home after you've had to much to drink. Come on, get on, don't just stand there swooning like a girl."
With some difficulty, Ryuuken manages to secure himself on Isshin's back, thighs clamped securely around Isshin's powerful waist and arms slung around his neck. "This is humiliating."
Isshin snorts. "Well, you shouldn't have had so much to drink, then, you idiot. And besides, you shouldn't complain so much when I'm carrying you, because let me tell you, you weigh a ton."
"I do not," slurs Ryuuken, obscurely offended. "I weigh less than you."
"Yeah, but I weigh two tons."
"You do not."
They bicker like this, easy and inconsequential, all the way home. Their voices protect them from the heavy silence of the streets at night, and their closeness keeps them warm when the chill of October sets in.
xxxxx
There is nothing left for them to do but pray, so though neither of them are religious men, they do.
XxxxxxX
A/N: This wants to be longer. I may write more. Keep a weather eye. ~__^