No Separation
For when two beings who are not friends are near each other there is no meeting, and when friends are far apart there is no separation. - Simone Weil
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She knew this would happen, someday.
Ever since she thrust her blade into Ichigo’s chest, Rukia knew that, someday, those stolen powers would have to disappear. It has been two weeks since Aizen’s imprisonment, and Ichigo has yet to waken. During these few days, Rukia has prepared herself for what she knows will come - the loss of Ichigo’s Shinigami powers; and, consequently, his ability to see spirits.
Including herself.
Rukia sometimes forgets that she’s a spirit being. She doesn’t belong in the human world, full of the living, unaware of the world just beyond their vision. They go about their lives in ignorance and fear of that which cannot be seen by their own eyes. Vision is a powerful thing, Rukia knows - it can separate entire worlds.
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Two days before Ichigo wakes, Rukia goes back to the Seireitei.
She leaps across rooftops, bounding easily through the air, the wind rustling through her clothes; a dark butterfly on the breeze. The November air chills her skin.
As she nears the Kuchiki estate, her heart sinks deeper and deeper inside.
Her brother has not been doing well.
Yoruichi has returned to the Seireitei, trying to make amends for those she left so many years ago. The day of her return, he spent most of his time in the Kuchiki library, and forbid anyone entrance, including Rukia. She has given him his privacy without question, despite her worry.
Even in small ways, Rukia protects him the best she can.
When she arrives at the Kuchiki manor, she can sense two spiritual energies, and knows who they belong to; one is her brother’s, and the other is Yoruichi’s. She neither follows them nor enquires about them to the servants, instead going to her room, to distract herself and hope for the best.
Ten minutes later, her worry and curiosity overcomes her, and Rukia follows the energies to the guest room, carrying a tray of tea and rice crackers. A valid excuse, she thinks.
She stops just before the open door, peering around the edge to look inside.
They stand facing one another, her hands on his chest, head down. She’s in her usual clothing, the orange jacket open, violet hair up. He’s dressed in a dark, informal yukata, the kenseikan and scarf gone. The sunlight casts their shadows upon the wall behind them.
“I told you my reasons, Byakuya. What else do you want to hear?”
He sighs and takes her hands in his, guiding them away.
“I don’t know, Yoruichi.”
Yoruichi steps back from him then, crossing her arms in a defensive way, tense and guarded. From her position at the door, Rukia can see her yellow eyes gazing at him, and they’re cold. Rukia’s heart begins to ache.
“That isn’t an answer. I need to know what you want from me, Byakuya. We can’t fix anything otherwise. Isn’t that what you want from me, to make amends?”
Byakuya frowns, closing his eyes, and when he speaks again, his voice is so quiet, Rukia almost doesn’t hear his words.
“Yes, and no. I’m not precisely sure that’s what I want from you. I don’t know what you could do that would ever make it right. You were my friend and a mentor, Yoruichi.”
Yoruichi frowns, and her words are dark with smoke. “I’m not going to apologize for doing what I felt was right. Kisuke is my dearest friend. I couldn’t stand by and watch him be executed for a crime he didn’t commit.”
They’re silent, the November breeze rattling the screen door.
“Stay,” Byakuya says, finally.
Rukia’s eyes widen, heart beginning to flutter - ba-bum ba-bum -in her ears. Byakuya steps closer to take her hands once again, and his head dips toward her to speak so softly, Rukia holds her breath.
“Promise me to stay. If you really wish to make amends, promise me you’ll stay here - and only here. I am not asking you to abandon Urahara Kisuke. I only need to know that you won’t leave again.”
Yoruichi’s hands slide up his chest. Her lips quiver, as if she can’t decide what to say, or how.
Finally, Yoruichi laughs. Her fingers move to rest against his throat, thumb rubbing the hollow of his collarbones. She laughs, but it is not a happy one.
“I can’t promise you that, Byakuya. I’m sorry.”
Rukia goes cold all over, watching them with wide eyes.
“Yoruichi,” he says, the closest she’s ever heard her brother to begging, and he takes her chin to tilt it up, as if to kiss her. Rukia turns away, flushing.
She stares at her warped reflection in the tea, now cold in her hands. She’s seen enough, and leaves, hoping for the best, but knowing that hope will only go so far.
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When it’s finally time to say good-bye, she does her best to smile.
“I can still see you, even if you can’t see me,” she says, in an effort to comfort him.
Ichigo scoffs, as she expected. He turns away and runs a hand through his unkempt hair, in that familiar way. “That doesn’t comfort me at all,” he grumps, though she knows it does. Rukia grins, gentle and sad.
You idiot, she thinks, as her image begins to fade away, don’t you dare think this is the end.
They look at each other in the sunset. She doesn’t like the sadness on his face, so she looks away from him. She can feel his eyes on her.
“Give everyone my regards.” His voice shakes.
Rukia looks down and nods, unable to meet him in the eye. “I will.”
I’ll see you again, you know. Don’t act like this is permanent, Ichigo. You know it isn’t.
She’s almost gone when he says good-bye, and Rukia is filled with an inside-shake she’s never felt.
This isn’t the end, she thinks, but doesn’t know who she’s trying to comfort; him, or herself.
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When she returns to the manor later that evening, she finds Byakuya in the library, a flask of plum wine beside him. It’s unlike him to drink.
She lingers at the doorway, moonlight shining behind her, her shadow casting the room into halves.
“Brother?” She asks, in the gentlest way she can.
He looks up to her with soft, but guarded eyes. Rukia frowns.
“Do you need something, Rukia?”
She looks away and blushes, clearing her throat and nodding.
“I sensed Yoruichi here earlier. I hope her visit went well.”
She looks to him from the corner of one eye, brow furrowing. He lowers his head and pretends to read the open book before him.
“She’ll be staying in the Seireitei,” he says, without feeling, “but only for a short time.”
The candle behind him flickers, smoking. She watches it curl into the air before disappearing completely. Rukia swallows the knot in her throat.
“Oh,” is all she can say.
Her eyes linger on the flask of wine beside his hand, knowing that only something truly upsetting would cause a man like him to drink for comfort.
She doesn’t know what, exactly, Byakuya feels for Yoruichi. Many say it’s hate, but she doesn’t believe so; only someone important to him would produce such reactions from him. She knew only of Yoruichi’s name and rank before they met, and even then, she was forbidden to speak of her - as if the reminder, however small, was painful.
She’s never seen him in such a low place.
He closes the book, and she jumps. His pale face is kind when he looks to her.
“I am sorry of the current circumstances, Rukia. I know how much that boy means to you.”
Her chest hurts. “Thank you. I know this isn’t the end of him, though. Ichigo is stubborn.”
“Indeed. Is there anything else you wish to speak of?”
“No, brother. Thank you for your time, and your words.” She stays at the doorway, but he doesn’t ask why. Rukia breathes in deeply, preparing herself to speak, though she knows it’s not her place.
“I hope you and Yoruichi will make amends someday, brother. You deserve to be happy again. Separation doesn’t have to be forever.”
Rukia smiles, and leaves.