Who: Rukia (
snowwhitesoul ) and Shiro (
holeheart )
What: A bit of comfort and a bit of confrontation
Where: Kurosaki Clinic
When: Evening of September 3rd
Warning: Shiro's mobile swearword zone
The Clinic is quiet. After so much noise and arguing the past few day, the silence is ringing. Ichigo has gone off somewhere to think, cool his heels, and probably get into more
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But there was nothing.
So he just laid on Ichigo's bed, surrounded by his own long hair, and thought. About what, though? Everything. What Ichigo and he had to do when they got home. What it meant for him... being inside again, probably permanently. And maybe something worse. And then there was the matter of Lior. He wasn't sure, exactly, why it had disturbed him so much. Probably because of the compression of time. She was gone a week. And four hundred years passed? For someone who was 17 years old at best, 2 at worst, that was... more than a lifetime. It was inconceivable. He had a lot to think about, and it showed on his face. But he didn't want to hide, either. He found that he liked being around other people. So he stayed in the clinic, instead of retreating to his cave.
Rukia calling his name gets his attention and he looks over. "Huh?"
Oh.
She had a brush. Had she noticed he was upset? ... Oh right. She had heard the difference when they'd spoken with Ichigo before. About Ichigo surviving. But not him.
"... Sure."
He stands up and plods into the strange Inception'd closet, carefully pushing aside the recently repaired doors. "What is it?"
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On the floor in front of the bed, she'd laid a big cushion down. It was more like a miniature bean bag, but covered in a velvety cloth instead of courduroy. Patting her hand on it in invitation, she shrugged at him.
"Have some time?"
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He looks down at the cushion, then back at her, then at the cushion. "Yeah, sure am busy with all the nothin' I'm doin'." He rolls his eyes, but it's not malicious or angry. He plops down in the beanbag and lays his head against the bed, huffing.
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Getting him in here is easy, but actually starting the conversation is hard. She's not spectacular with words in the first place, so she just contents herself to take care of the tangles first. Maybe it's just better for him to open up the conversation first.
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Every brushthrough makes his head bend back slightly. He could easily stiffen his neck to keep that from happening, but he didn't feel like it. Gold eyes remain lazily unfocused on the floor in front of him, and he's wringing his hands and rubbing his claws. The purring is purely instinctual, and therefore pretty quiet. It's really only audible when he opens his mouth to speak.
"You didn't call me over here ta just brush my hair."
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"I know you and I have not been the most agreeable in the past. But you're still my friend, just like Ichigo is. I know there's not much I can do for the situation back home. Against Aizen...and what happened on the roof of Las Noches." She lets that hover in the air as her arms fall into the automated rhythm of brushing.
"And I know I have no right to it, but if there's any way I can help lessen that burden...I will do it. I will do whatever is in my power to help you both."
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Shiro sits quietly, listening to her, purring a little in his throat but still clearly not happy. The roof of Las Noches? How had she known about that? ... Then again, there probably wasn't a soul in Hueco Mundo that didn't feel that. It had truly been the peak of Shiro's power, the pinnacle of what he could do without Ichigo's permission. But still he is silent.
Finally, he lets out a breath and closes his eyes, "What can you do? There is nothing," he frowns, lowering his head, "If I knew anything, that would help him, I would tell you. You need to be a friend to him here, while you can. I only know whispers, Rukia. Whispers of what is required to ascend. I don't know what it means, for any of us, but I know it's not good. But I have a feeling." He pauses, falling into silence and not sure if he should continue. So... he doesn't.
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His hair is clean and soft, but made of glass apparently. Nothing she did with it would stay long without a tie of some sort. So, wishing up a box of hairbands, she begins to brush out sections of his hair in earnest, switching to a paddle brush to get deep into the scalp.
She only knew about the dome through educated guessing. That's where Ichigo had come from, not long after that unearthly power had shattered through to the ground level of the fortress. Even in that column of devouring flames, she could sense Ichigo, albeit faintly. What tipped her off was his eyes. Sad, weary, lost eyes. Eyes that had forsaken hope. How could she not think something had happened to him up there?
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It was always obvious when Shiro was sad, or serious. His voice lost its carefree, slurred accent. Words were properly enunciated, slowly spoken, and usually with more distortion. Such was the case now. If she wanted to know about the Dome, she'd have to ask specifically. If she wanted to know anything, she need only ask. Properly. Shiro often played dumb, but that really was for Ichigo's sake. Saying he didn't know. He didn't care. That was because Ichigo needed to figure things out for himself. He, and Zangetsu, they weren't there to spoonfeed him information. He had to work for it.
Shiro touches his hair, scratching a brushed area with his claws.
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"What will be the cost of defeating Aizen?"
And as if she didn't ask him to give her the answer to a deeply important and personal question, she smacks his hand away. Be calm, she's not nearly done with the brushing.
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"Keh! I was scratchin' an itch..." A sigh. But he's truthful when he answers, "I don't know the price. All I know is that it will be high, and the toll will likely be exacted from Zangetsu and I. The last time I was home, Zangetsu was... not scared... but tenuous. He doesn't want to show Ichigo what he has to do." He lowers his head again, closing his eyes, strangely solemn. "After all, he can continue to live without us." He turns his head, ever so slightly, looking at Rukia out of the corner of one eye. "Tell me. In that Academy, do they teach the Shinigami about something called the 'Final Technique'?"
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Her hand slows as she considers his answer, thinking back to her lessons at the Academy.
"I think it is mentioned once or twice, but never explained. The details, as far as I can recall, are scarce. It's simply not a point of interest in traditional studies." Why would it be? Less than one percent of shinigami ever reached bankai, much less the level of strength or need that would require such a thing. Soul Society rarely faced dangers that the combined might of its captains couldn't overcome.
But then, slowly, the brush stops. Rukia's arm falls into her lap with the brush, and now its time for her to give Shiro the piercing, searching look.
"Do you truly think he can live without you or Zangetsu?" Her lips twist around as she thinks more deeply on the idea. "Do you honestly believe that Ichigo can live and continue to be himself without either of you? There is a difference between living and simply existing."
The thought of losing Sode no Shirayuki, even for such a worthy cause, makes her heart clench. Would she be able to ever be the same person again without her zanpakutou, her powers? No, she wouldn't. There was no way.
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"I thought as much. Something spoken of, but never explained. Because it's not needed." When the brush stops, he turns and looks at her, somewhat confused at first. Then... downcast. And so human, in that moment. The difference between living and existing, huh.
"He'll survive," is the only answer he can give. Would he be happy? Would living a normal life be enough for him? Was it what he wanted? Probably not. No, definitely not. But he would survive. And live to fight another day. Maybe. He wishes more than anything that there were another way. A way for Ichigo to stay as he was, preserved and protected.
But there were some things not even Shiro could save him from.
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She starts, surprised by the sudden alacrity in her voice. But she doesn't stop, letting go of Shiro's hair, gripping the edge of the bed until her knuckles turned as white as Shiro's skin. Shaking her head, she reconfirms her thoughts, plowing over any attempt of Shiro's to interrupt.
"Just existing? You're really that okay about consigning him to such a fate?" It wasn't only Shiro and Zangetsu that would lose Ichigo if this came to pass. With no shinigami powers, he wouldn't be able to see spirits, either. Especially shinigami. You weren't the only one facing loss here, Shiro. "Do you think he wants to lose you either? I...I won't allow that. I refuse to believe that it has to be this way."
It wasn't fair. It just wasn't right, on some cosmic level. Her face and body were still, but those hands in that spread are shaking. "I'll find a way. I swear it, Shiro. I wont let him, or you, remain like that. I'll bring you both back, somehow. I swear it."
I swear on Kaien-dono's legacy.
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Not this time.
"It has to be the way, at least for a little while," a wry grin, "I don't think he could ever really be rid of us, permanently. He's still alive, after all. Even if it takes until the end of his natural life."
Her promise makes him widen his eyes a little. It was true that if Ichigo lost his abilities, Rukia would be invisible to him. And Shiro would simply be gone at worst, or slumbering at best. They were that important to her...? He grabs one of those shaking hands in his. It's not particularly tender, or gentle. It simply is what it is.
"Quit that. You'll rip the comforter."
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Before she knew it, Shiro had slipped his way into the dynamic of the house. The three of them. It became a rhythm she took for granted. Like the other night, when Ichigo was being beyond stupid again. It helped to have back up dealing with him, especially when...when right now, she couldn't seem to reach his heart the way she used to. It was making meals for someone who would compliment her cooking when Ichigo sometimes didn't think to. It was messing around with clothes, kneeling down to slip heels on her feet so she could practice walking with them. Tiny, silly things, but they added up. A push and pull of fluid dynamics. She would (try at times) keep them from letting their tempers outrun their sense, they would (sometimes) keep her from falling back into that old habit of sealing herself in guilt.
So yes, you are important to her, you have become important to her. And maybe, she was just tired of losing people.
"I promise, I mean it, Shiro. Don't ask me to stand by and watch him suffer like that while you and Zangetsu are gone."
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