[Bleach] Setting Sun, Rising Moon (7/12)

[jaina]

Title: Setting Sun, Rising Moon (part 7 of 12)
Rating: PG for this chapter
Word Count: 4,766
Summary: Half a century ago, Ichigo became a substitute shinigami while he was still alive. At the end of that life, it's time to become the real thing, but with death comes unexpected challenges-not the least of which is that presented by seeing Rukia again for the first time in years.

Chapter seven: On professional courtesy, life-changing realizations and the positive benefits of painkillers.

Spoilers: Assumes knowledge of all characters and events leading up to the winter war, but as this takes place in the future, historical references are largely creative inventions.

To chapter one
To chapter two
To chapter three
To chapter four
To chapter five
To chapter six

Setting Sun, Rising Moon: Chapter 7

For the second time in recent days, Ichigo found himself faced with the realization that he would never understand women. Hell, he’d give up on understanding women in general if he could figure out Rukia in particular.

The training session had been going so well. It had seemed less like training and more like just having fun with an old friend. He was finally figuring out how to act around her. It’d been nice-a little too nice, even, but he didn’t think she’d noticed the effect she had on him.

Maybe she had. Maybe that was why she’d shot out of there like a Menos Grande was on her tail.

The early evening was quiet as he made his way back to Seireitei proper, but he didn’t feel like turning in for the night yet. It wasn’t that late, and he didn’t feel like hanging solo. Maybe he could go find Keigo, or Hanataro, even; aside from a few cheerful chats, he hadn’t seen the guy much since he’d died. Ichigo guessed he was a lot busier now, as the fourth seat, than he had been back in the day.

When he got to fourth division grounds, he found that his luck was holding consistently tonight; Hanataro was tied up with a tricky healing session involving two eleventh division members. Ichigo thanked the bespectacled shinigami who provided the information and started to leave.

“Kurosaki-san?” The gentle voice was vaguely familiar. He turned to see Captain Unohana standing there with a smile. “It's nice to see you,” she said. “Were you looking for something?”

“Just stopped by to see if Hanataro was around.” He shrugged. “Not for anything important. I don’t want to interrupt his work.”

“I’ve been looking forward to your visit with our division,” she said. “It’s a bit early, but since Yamada-san is occupied, would you like to join me for tea?”

Again with the evening tea. Ichigo made a mental note to find out if there was some shinigami rule of etiquette about tea he didn’t know about. “Sure. Why not.”

He barely knew Unohana aside from hazy memories of being healed by her during and just after the war, but as they sipped their tea and chatted, he found that he genuinely liked her. She was kind without being patronizing, but also had a certain sparkle to her eye that told Ichigo she wasn’t someone he’d want to mess with.

“I understand we have something in common,” she said, pouring him a second cup of tea.

“Eh?” He gave her a blank look.

“I was told you were a doctor in the living world.”

“Oh, yeah.” He relaxed. “Not like you. I did general clinic work with my dad sometimes, but I was a pediatrician at the local hospital.”

She smiled. “You like children?”

He nodded. “What you see is usually what you get with them, and when they do try and pull crap on you, it’s because they’re kids and that’s their job. Easier than dealing with other adults sometimes.”

“Do you have any children of your own?”

“No,” he said quietly. “Would’ve been nice, but it didn’t work out that way. It was always fun to spoil my nieces and nephews.”

“Your father expressed similar sentiments.” She smiled fondly.

“You know him too, huh? He seems to get around.”

“We have met a few times since he returned to Soul Society,” she said. “But we were also good friends many years ago. Even then, he showed an interest in the healing arts.”

“He’s a good doctor,” Ichigo said. “Crazy as hell, but I guess that put people at ease or something.”

“He has always been good at that,” she said. “He was also very good at healing kidou. Very unusual for a shinigami so skilled in combat.”

“That’s Pops for you." He grinned. "He likes to keep people guessing.”

She nodded. “Have you explored that branch of kidou yet yourself?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “To be honest, I’m still getting the hang of not blowing up things I don’t want to,” he said. It was en embarrassing admission, but even if he tried fudging the truth, he had a feeling she would be able to tell. “It’s probably not a good idea to put someone’s welfare in my hands yet.”

“It may be a better one than you realize,” she said. “Healing kidou takes a different path than the destructive arts. The proper mental channel is required. As a healer of a different sort in the living world, I suspect you already have the right mentality.”

“Really?”

“Of course." She sipped her tea. "I would be happy to discuss this with you further another time.”

“I’d like that,” he said. “I know why they scouted me for this job, but it’d be nice to be more than a fighter.”

“Well, I-“

Without warning, an extremely tense-looking fourth division shinigami burst into the room. “Captain Unohana, come quick,” he said, words clipped. “It’s the thirteenth’s vice-captain. She’s hurt.”

Ichigo leapt to his feet along with Unohana. “Rukia? What happened?”

“Come with me, Kurosaki-san.” Unohana nodded once at him before hurrying out towards the emergency arrivals section of the division, looking all business. He followed.

He heard the commotion before he saw it-that bustle of activity that wasn’t panicked, but meant something serious was happening. Three shinigami he didn’t recognize appeared, hustling a stretcher towards them. They didn’t slow down, just whisked it into a treatment room, but the glimpse he got was enough. Rukia lay on it, her face pinched with pain. There was blood there too, but what was on her head was nothing compared to her leg. Her hakama had been rolled up high enough for him to see the twisted shape of her right leg and the red-mottled white of protruding bone.

Part of him-most of him-wanted to rush into the room and ask what the hell had gone wrong, was she going to be okay, why the fuck hadn’t anyone protected her? But the detached doctor side of him, the one that still remained even though he wasn’t one anymore, stopped him. The open break meant serious trauma, possibly compounded by other fractures if the deformation of her leg was any indication. The blood on her face could be from a scratch or a concussion. Fixing Rukia wouldn’t be a patch job, and for all his living world training, he couldn’t do the slightest bit of healing kidou yet. This was Unohana’s scene. Better to leave her to it.

He looked around for someone who’d have a clue. The short kid hovering behind him looked nervous and vaguely guilty-a good place to start. “Hey, you!” The kid snapped to face him, now looking almost terrified. “What happened here? Are you in her squad? What’s your name?”

He nodded. “Shinnosuke, sir. We were on a routine mission-most of us are new to the division, and Vice-Captain Kuchiki volunteered to take us out. We were hunting a single hollow, but when we found it, it was so big...” He cast his eyes downward. “I froze. It went for me, and Vice-Captain Kuchiki jumped in to save me. It grabbed her and…squeezed. And then it threw her."

”THREW her?” Ichigo glared. “Didn’t anyone try and stop it?”

“Yes!” He gulped. “But it was too fast, sir.”

“Right,” he snapped. “Did someone get rid of it or is that too much to hope for?” He knew as well as anyone that with few exceptions, hollows were mindless. It would be stupid to take an attack on Rukia personally. Didn’t stop him from wanting to kill it himself.

Shinnosuke nodded. “Some of the others.” He looked miserable. “It’s all my fault, sir. The vice-captain was just protecting me.”

Ichigo opened his mouth to fire back a sharp reply, then focused on the kid’s face. Definitely a rookie-he looked so young. Had Ichigo looked so young when he’d become a shinigami? It didn’t seem possible. “It’s not your fault, Shinnosuke.” Ichigo shook his head. “Shit happens. Rukia was doing her job.”

He didn’t look convinced. “I should give my report to Captain Ukitake,” he said. “Would you-will you tell her I’m sorry? When she’s healed?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Kurosaki-san?” Ichigo spun to face Unohana, who stood just inside the doorway. “You can come in now if you like.”

He hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna get in the way. Rukia needs to come first.”

She nodded, smiling gently. “I have some work to do on her leg. I think it would help if you distracted her.”

“How bad’s it hurting her?”

“Bad enough, but I’ve given her something for the pain,” she said. “It has…relaxed her.”

He didn’t get how Rukia could be all that relaxed when her friggin’ bone was sticking out her leg, but he didn’t bother to ask further questions. He crossed the room in quick strides and knelt besides Rukia’s pallet. “Rukia. I’m here.”

He quickly got his answer on the relaxation thing. “ICHIGO!” Rukia grinned. “You’re here! That’s so great!”

He gaped, taking in her wide smile, the glassy eyes. “What did you give her?” He turned to Unohana as she took her place beside Rukia’s leg.

“A mild opiate to take her mind off her wound." She began probing Rukia’s wound in ways he didn’t want to look at. “It should not bother her now.”

He snorted. It certainly wasn't, judging by the dopey expression on her face. He turned back to Rukia when she tugged on his sleeve sharply. “Ichigo! You should pay attention to me. I’m injured.” She looked like she was trying to glare but lacked the focus.

He’d seen a lot of different reactions to painkillers. Some got sleepy, some got spacey, some got…well, stoned was the only word for it. Rukia seemed to fall into the third category. “Yeah,” he said, for lack of anything else. “Sorry, Rukia. I’m paying attention to you now."

“It’s about time.” She poked him in the ribs, harder than he would’ve thought a drugged-up triage patient capable of. “I had to wait a long time.”

He rolled his eyes. “You had to wait about five minutes.”

“No I didn’t!” she scolded, the words coming out a little slurred. “I had to wait years, Ichigo. Decades. Lots of 'em, even though I had better things to do! It’s not even fun being old but you had to wait years to die just to show that you could. You’re a show-off.” She sniffed. “And I missed…”

He felt something catch in his chest. “I missed you too, Rukia,” he said quietly.

She ignored him. “I missed the...” She made a bizarre wavy motion with her hands. “Your coat.”

He gaped some more. Apparently, medicated Rukia was just going to have that effect on him. “My coat.”

“Your coat!” She nodded, apparently happy he’d grasped the point. “The black one. With the red stuff.”

“Red stu-are you talking about my bankai?”

“Yes!”

“Okay,” he said. “You…missed my coat.”

“I just told you that,” she said witheringly. “You don’t listen.”

“I’m listening, I’m listening.” He patted her hand. “Tell me about my coat, Rukia.”

She grinned again, and he felt his skin crawl. It was like her fake schoolgirl sparkly grin, only worse, because she wasn’t faking it for an audience this time. ”`snice,” she said. “Snug. Shows your hips. Not your ass, though.” She sighed. “You have a good ass. Thought so way back when we met.”

A sudden cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, he shot a glance at Unohana. She was doing her work and carefully not paying attention to her patient’s conversation. “Uh. That’s…good to know, Rukia. I didn’t know that.”

She was only paying him scant attention. “A really good ass,” she said, looking almost contemplative. “I liked squeezing it in bed.”

“RUKIA!” He gaped at her, equal parts appalled and embarrassed.

“I know you remember that, Ichigo.” She glared again, the effectiveness diminished somewhat by the fact that she seemed to be focusing on his ear. “We spent enough time there.”

This was not a conversation he wanted to have in front of anyone else, much less one of his fellow captains. “I really don’t think this is the right place to talk about that.”

“Never is,” she grumbled. “We never really talk anymore. But you do remember, right?”

“Rukia-“

"Right?”

“Okay, I remember!”

“No, you don’t,” she sulked, throwing her head against her cushion to stare at the ceiling. “You don’t remember. I’m not memorable.”

“You’re…very memorable, Rukia,” he gritted out. “But you shouldn’t be thinking about this now. You’re injured.” He looked down at Unohana again and-oh, damn. Whatever kidou she was doing now, the way Rukia’s flesh was moving made his skin crawl. Unohana caught his look and gave him a nod that he understood to mean keep her talking so she won’t see.

“Nice of you to say, Ichigo,” she said, smiling again. “`sokay though. It’s okay to forget.” She tugged at his collar again and he leaned down. “Keep a secret?” she whispered.

“Sure,” he whispered back. Anything to keep her quiet, at this point.

“I never forgot,” she said quietly. “Tried. Pretended. Renji helped. But I wasn’t very good at it.”

“I didn’t know that,” he said. He hadn’t-when they’d finished their…thing…whatever it was, she’d always been friendly enough. Glad to hear about his life, what he was willing to tell her. But that was all. “You never told me.”

“Well, of course.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m Kuchiki, stupid. Had to get over you sooner or later, `specially when you met that girl. Yucky.”

“Yuko.”

“Whatever.” She waved a hand and nearly smacked him in the face. “She was okay. Didn' really like the look of her. But you were happy.”

He looked at her for a long moment. She probably had no idea what she was saying at the moment, and if she remembered later, she would kill him out of embarrassment. But there was no doubt that it was the truth. This sort of pain medication didn’t make people lie, it just lowered their inhibitions. “Yeah,” he said finally. “For a while.”

“Good. Good. `swhat I wanted for you.” She blinked slowly, as if her eyelids felt heavier. “Still do. So don’t be stupid, okay?”

“Okay, Rukia.”

She nodded, and her eyelids fluttered closed. He let out a deep breath.

“I believe I am finished here, Kurosaki-san,” Unohana said. “Thank you for distracting her.”

“No problem,” he said queasily. “How’s her leg?”

“Much better than it was.” She nodded at the limb, which was now tightly wrapped in bandages. “She’ll need some follow-up treatment, but she should be able to put weight on it in a day or so.” She stood. “Could I trouble you to carry her to one of our overnight beds?”

"Is it okay to move her so soon?"

"The break has healed," she said. "As long as she's not too hard on it for the next day or so, Kuchiki-san should be fine."

He nodded and slid his arms beneath Rukia’s knees and shoulders, careful not to wake her-but once Rukia’d decided to pass out, she’d passed out hard and didn’t stir. She was a dead weight in his arms, but he had no trouble lifting her.

It was only a short walk to one of the small recovery rooms, but he wouldn’t have minded it lasting a little longer. It had been a long time since he’d held Rukia this close, felt her warm weight in his arms. It was nice, even if she was unconscious.

She didn’t stir when he laid her down again. He could’ve left then, but he stayed where he was, watching her breathe lightly. When he’d heard them call for Unohana-when he’d seen her injury-his veins had turned to ice more effectively than even Rukia’s shikai could manage. And what she’d said, what he’d felt when he touched her…he still didn’t really know what he was doing in Soul Society, but one thing had become perfectly clear to him.

He was still in love with Rukia.

This should be a good thing, figuring out how he felt for her. But he couldn’t make out how she felt for him; despite her standoffishness, she’d apparently nursed feelings for him way past the point that he’d assumed she was over his ass. And that was good too, in a way. But she’d used the past tense. And what about Renji-he helped her get over him? Helped how? He had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly how, and it wasn't something he wanted to think about in detail.

There were too many questions swimming through his mind to choose from, even if she’d been awake to answer. So he didn’t bother. He just sat and watched her sleep.

The next morning, he found himself awake in his own bed and staring at the ceiling long before he needed to be. He forced himself to wait until a reasonable hour before dressing and leaving. He had to meet with Hinamori and Hisagi later for yet more paperwork, but there was time to do this first.

Members of the eleventh division may have had a reputation for drinking and partying, but no one could call them slackers when it came to a good fight. Ikkaku was already drilling a squad of bloodthirsty-looking shinigami in the yard when Ichigo arrived.

“All right, move it, slugs! I want to see someone unconscious in ten minutes or you’re not trying hard enough! Hey.” He nodded at Ichigo when he saw him. “What’s up? Want to go a round? I’m free after these chumps are finished.”

Ichigo steeled himself. “Is there something going on between Renji and Rukia?”

Ikkaku blinked. “Is that a no?”

“I’m not here to fight, Ikkaku.”

“Yeah, I guess not,” he said. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because it’s not something I’m real comfortable marching up and interrupting Renji’s day to ask!”

“But it’s okay to interrupt mine?” Ikkaku scowled.

“Yes.” Ichigo gave him a hard look. “Look. I’m not trying to drag you into the middle of anything. But if everyone’s been tiptoeing around, not wanting to tell me because they think I’ll freak-I just want to know, okay? I think I deserve to.”

“Fine,” Ikkaku said, and turned back to the brawling squad. “HEY! Almost-Captain Kurosaki and I’ve got business to deal with, but that doesn’t mean you get to slack off! Kick some ass, pansies! Come with me,” he told Ichigo.

He followed Ikkaku around the corner to the back of the closest building. Ikkaku leaned against the wall. “So.”

“So,” Ichigo repeated. “So tell me already, okay? I can deal.”

“So the answer is, I don’t know.”

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. “Come again?”

“What, you deaf? I said I don’t know,” Ikkaku scoffed. “Renji’s sleeping with someone and he thinks we don’t know. Yumi, Iba and me just figured we’d ignore it if he’s feeling shy. Just gives us more ammunition for messing with him later. But I don’t know if it’s with her. I hope not. He’d be a fuckin’ moron to go there again.”

His breath caught in his throat. “Again?”

“Yeah.” Ikkaku nodded sharply. “I don’t know if there’s something going on with them now. But there was.”

“Oh.” Ichigo closed his eyes for a moment. Even though he’d come here with expectation bearing down on him, it hurt more to know for sure than he'd thought it would.

“I hope Renji learned his lesson from the experience," Ikkaku said. "I like Kuchiki, really, but that girl did a number on him.”

“What? How?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know the details. I just know that one day Renji got his shit together and said something and they were together for a while. Then they weren’t and I had to deal with my drunken friend vomiting every night for like a month.”

Ichigo frowned, trying to process the thought without actually picturing Rukia and Renji…together. “Did he say what happened?”

Ikkaku rolled his eyes. “He wasn’t exactly coherent and I don’t remember the details anyway. It was a while ago, man.”

“How long?”

“Uh…” Ikkaku scratched his chin. “Thirty years maybe?”

He gaped. “That long?”

“Yeah. Why, you trying to get back with her or something?”

“No!” he said, knowing it didn't sound very convincing. Yet it was true; what Ichigo would like to do had little bearing on what he'd try to do, if Rukia had already moved on.

“Sure you’re not.” Ikkaku snorted. “Look, I gotta get back, they fall apart without supervision. Anything else you wanna know first?”

“No.” He hesitated, then called out as Ikkaku rounded the corner. “Ikkaku!”

“Yeah?” He looked over his shoulder.

“Do you know why they split?”

Ikkaku gave him a long look. “Why do you think?” He turned around and walked away.

Ichigo stood there a while, digesting what he’d heard. Renji and Rukia…a couple. He’d always known the other man harbored feelings for her. Hell, who wouldn’t, once they knew her? But for a long time, it hadn’t mattered. She’d been with Ichigo.

Until she wasn't anymore. Could he blame her for moving on, or Renji for assisting her with that?

Of course he could. He shouldn’t, but he could. He wanted to punch Renji. He wanted to go to Rukia and act like none of the bullshit between them had ever happened. He wanted things to make sense again.

But he had other things to do now. He closed his mind against the mental pictures it had been conjuring and took off to meet Hisagi and Hinamori.

The past could wait. He’d deal with it later.

33 years ago, continued

A light snow was falling when Ichigo left the grocery for home, a stuffed paper bag in his arms. It was pretty, but he frowned. There was something about this time of the season that made him count the days until spring. Maybe it was the cold wind that whipped around buildings, or the way the nights felt deeper or longer. Maybe it was just because part of him would always associate it with war and the deaths or near-deaths of friends, but winter had been his least favorite time of year for a long time now.

He was nearly home when the shriek of his badge ripped through the air, yanking him out of his reverie. He didn’t need the alarm to feel when the thick, malevolent reiatsu of a hollow emerging into this world splashed across his senses.

Shit. He fumbled for the badge, deep in his pockets-why had he stuffed it down so far, even if he hadn’t used it in a long time it was still important-and heard the roar of a hollow that had spotted prey. Shit! He took off running, still grabbing for the badge, and had just rounded the corner when he saw it. It was an ugly fucker, but not the worst he’d seen.

Got it. His fingers closed over the badge as a small figure in black flashed across the sky. It was behind the thing almost faster than Ichigo’s eyes could track, and then the sword came down on the mask and it was all over.

He stared. “Rukia?”

She sheathed her sword and turned to him. “Ichigo.” There was something strange in her expression-apprehension. She seemed scared of what he was going to say. Could he blame her, considering the words he’d said last time they were near each other? It seemed so long ago.

He forced a smile. “What are you doing here?”

She gave him a smile that, to his eye, was just as uneasy. “I don’t really know,” she murmured. “Killing hollows.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Good job,” he said. “Your form hasn’t suffered any.”

She chuckled. “And I’m supposed to believe yours has?”

“Some of us age, Rukia.”

“Oh.” The air was quiet. “I should-don’t let me detain you from wherever you’re going.”

“Just home.” He nodded at the bag. “Do you wanna come up and have a drink or something? It's a chilly night out.”

“The cold does not bother me.”

“I guess it wouldn’t.” He hesitated. Trying to talk to her was like stumbling through thick fog. Since when had he not been able to talk to Rukia? Even when he’d wanted to throttle her, half-mad with heartbreak, the words had come easily. He settled for the simplest words he could muster. “Come anyway.”

She nodded. “All right.”

Once inside, he dropped the bag on the counter before opening the cabinet where he kept his alcohol. Nothing in there needed refrigeration; it could wait.

Rukia was looking around curiously when he turned back to her, a bottle in hand. “You live alone now?”

He’d expected that question and didn’t wince. “Yes.”

“What happened to your-?”

“We split,” he said. “A while after I last saw you.”

“I see.” Guilt flashed across her eyes. “I hope my appearance didn’t cause any trouble between you.”

“Nah. Don’t worry about it.” He grabbed a couple of glasses from the drying rack. “Some things just aren’t meant to be.” He poured and slid her a glass.

“I know,” she said softly. She accepted the drink. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”

He took a sip before answering. “Can’t be angry forever, I guess,” he said. “I still think I had reason to be. But I had to let it go. I-get what you meant, now. We weren't something that was gonna last. It could've ended better, but...it's done, you know? It's past time to move on." The words were true-he'd accepted it for years now-but they still rang hollow in his mouth.

She nodded, but didn’t say anything, as inscrutable as she ever was when she wanted to be. He hesitated, feeling compelled to fill the silence but not sure what to say. “So if you’re ever here on a mission or something and you wanna say hi or whatever, that’s okay.”

“I doubt I’ll have much occasion to,” she said, eyes darting to her right. “But I will remember.”

“Good. That’s good.” He nodded, feeling awkward. “So what brought you here tonight?”

“Oh…I’m not entirely sure,” she said. “There have been certain changes in Soul Society of late, certain things I must consider. I felt drawn away so that I could. And perhaps…to apologize once more.”

“I told you, forget about it,” he said. “Whatever happened, happened. We’re both moving forward. You’re doing okay, right?”

“Yes.”

“I knew you would,” he said. “Whatever’s going on there, just face it head on and kick its ass. You’ll be fine.” He was glad that the words sounded more confident than he felt. He wanted her to be okay, wanted them both to be, but he couldn't quite get rid of the tight feeling in his chest.

“And you?” she asked. “You are well?”

“Good as ever.”

“Mmm.” She narrowed her eyes. “You have a gray hair,” she said, pointing.

He made a face. “That’s the Rukia I remember. So well-mannered.”

“It’s not my fault your hair is so ridiculously bright that the gray stands out.”

“Keep looking, you’ll find a few more,” he said. “I told you. I’m getting old.”

“I would not call you truly old yet.”

“Maybe not.” He laughed. “One of these days.”

“Perhaps,” she said, a smile at the corner of her mouth. She looked down at her drink. “I should return.”

“Now?" He was surprised and strangely reluctant to see her go. "You just got here. And you haven’t finished your drink.”

“I was drinking earlier, before I came. And it is late, and there are certain things I must attend to,” she said. “It has been good to see you again.”

“You too,” he said. “Take care of yourself, Rukia.”

He watched her go, and didn’t stop watching for a long moment. He suddenly felt exhausted.

Moving backwards wouldn’t work. Staying still wouldn’t accomplish anything. All that was left for them was to move on. And she looked good, content even. It had been enough to let him hold back the words stuck in his throat. If he couldn’t have her-if they weren’t going to work, ever-better she be happy in her world than try to be part of his.

He drained his drink and headed to bed.

--

Next chapter: “Have you ever wanted something you had no right to want anymore?”