The Truth of Shadows (Chapter 2)
DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
Author: SilverKytten
Title: The Truth of Shadows (chapter 2)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: IchigoxUkitake
Warnings: Yaoi, language, angst, mild early series spoilers
Summary: Sometimes the person you least expect is the one who finds you in the darkness.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. All characters associated with the series are the property of Tite Kubo; I am simply borrowing them for my own amusement.
A/N:Thank you to everyone who left such nice reviews, I really appreciated the feedback and hopefully you'll all enjoy the next installment. Always remember, in the world of fanfiction reviews=love=faster turnaround on chapters. It's a strange equation, but you can't argue with math!
(Previous Chapter)
Tuesday -
~ "What is hope, except the thread that guides us when all other lights go out...?" ~
I shifted irritably against the bite of cold brick, wondering for the hundredth time what the fuck I was doing there. School had been a mess. I was exhausted most of the day and for some reason it seemed like everything was going out of its way to be more irritating than usual. I'd heard people say that when you're young, you're supposed to bounce back easy from things like staying out all night. Well fuck that, apparently I couldn't bounce for shit because I kept drifting off in class and getting snapped at. Maybe it doesn't work if you're already pushing the limits most of time.
By the time I dragged my ass home I'd decided to stay in for the night. Ukitake didn't need me fucking up his free time and I wasn't so desperate for friends that I had to bother a near stranger. I finished my homework in record time, then grabbed a little food and went to bed before it was even dark. It was all well and good until I woke up a couple hours later and couldn't get back to sleep. It was always harder for me to sleep at night; too many things that could be wrong without someone out there to keep an eye on them. I rolled out of bed and headed for the shower. At least I wasn't so tired anymore. Small victories.
I almost decided to stay home again after five minutes of digging though my closet. I didn't have any idea where Ukitake was planning to go, and I didn't own anything even half as nice as what he was wearing the night before. I may not have been some pretty-boy wannabe, but I usually gave at least half a thought to not looking like a total fuck-up. I finally gave up and grabbed a T-shirt and jeans. It was a nice T-shirt, a black and red design from a solid brand, but it wasn't going to win me any awards. I slid on a heavy, riveted belt and sighed. Really fucking original but whatever, it was what I always looked like and everyone knew it. Except that he wasn't my friend, he didn't know me, and he'd probably never seen me outside of being a Shinigami. Dammit.
Thinking too long about clothes made me feel like a girl, so I just pulled on my shoes and headed out the door. If I stood out then that's just the way life went. Not like it would be the first time. Not like it was even uncommon. Still, I kind of liked the thought of having another normal night, where no one was fucking with me or giving me weird looks.
I got there early and started to feel awkward almost immediately. It wasn't like there was a real plan or anything. I didn't know when he was going to show up, or even if he was going to show up. Technically, he hadn't really asked me to come along at all, more just informed me of his plans, and even that was pretty vague. Ten minutes passed and I started to feel pretty edgy, leaning against the wall while people milled by, waiting on some unknown bullshit. I started to pull at the hem of my shirt but forced myself to leave it alone, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes and wondering how the fuck I could manage to feel so out of place just leaning against a damn wall.
"Are you always this high strung, Kurosaki-kun?"
I snatched my hands away and found Ukitake eying me critically, having materialized seemingly from nowhere while I was otherwise engaged. I started to scowl but drew up short, blinking at him in surprise. He was wearing an intricately patterned orange and grey T-shirt over black long sleeves, and looking more comfortable in it than I would have. Dumbfounded, my gaze slid higher, stalling out completely when I noticed that his hair was pulled back and the glow from a streetlight was glimmering faintly off a pair of dark studs resting casually in his ears. It was fucking surreal.
"I'll take that as a yes," he said dryly, lips twitching into a half smile.
"Sorry," I muttered, scowling for real that time. "You look…different."
He chuckled lightly, pushing his sleeves halfway up his forearms. "It seemed reasonable to assume you'd be somewhat dressed down."
I probably should have been grateful, but my thoughts were a little fucked, and then his earrings caught the light again which only made it worse. Was this seriously happening?
For his part, he just shook his head in amusement, shoving his hands into a pair of dark jeans and starting off down the street. I jogged a couple steps to catch up, matching his easy pace as he wandered toward downtown. Along the way, I kept shooting him surreptitious glances, trying to sort through my tangled perceptions. Like the fact that I recognized the brands he was wearing. They were expensive but definitely human, yet I couldn't for the life of me picture him doing anything as mundane as going to a mall. It was just too weird.
"You seem somewhat perplexed by my ability to dress myself." He was watching me from the corner of his eye with an air of amused exasperation. "I assure you, I've been doing it for quite some time now, with a relative degree of success."
I rolled my eyes as some of the surprise started to fade, and felt his smile creeping onto my lips.
"You look so normal," I grumbled half-heartedly, starting to feel more at peace than I had all day.
"I'll take that as a complement," he grinned, looking vaguely pleased with himself.
I just snorted and kept walking. It was weird how comfortable I felt, wandering the darkened streets with a cleverly disguised Shinigami who might be older than the whole fucking town. Hell, it was probably even weirder that I was more at ease with someone I hardly knew than with most of the friends I'd grown up with, but what could I really do about it? He had a natural sort of calm that seemed to permeate anything in his general vicinity.
"Are you hungry?" He asked conversationally, glancing up at a passing street sign.
I started to say no, but realized I was. What little I'd eaten before falling into bed was already wearing off.
"I don't know what's open." I frowned. It was well after nine and I didn't usually eat that late.
He glanced at a watch set into a thick leather cuff on his wrist. "Would you prefer traditional or something a little more exotic?"
"What kind of exotic?" I asked curiously, having little experience with anything beyond Japanese and the occasional burger.
He paused on the street-corner and tapped his lips thoughtfully, checking the time again. "French?"
"Where the hell are you gonna find French food?" I asked incredulously. I'd never even seen a French restaurant in town.
"Ciel du Soir," he answered easily, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
He seemed to think this was sufficient explanation because he set off again and I just shrugged and fell into step, so I guess maybe he was right. Somehow I'd always pictured French restaurants as some fancy little world full of nice clothes and romantic couples, but he didn't seem concerned by either the way we were dressed or the fact that we definitely weren't a couple. I figured I probably knew shit about French restaurants and decided to keep my mouth shut.
When we stopped a little while later I was glad I'd stayed quiet. The building didn't look dirty or uninviting but it was really plain, with little more than a striped awning and a sign to set it apart from its surroundings. The few people inside looked pretty casual, and didn't give us a second glance as we slid into a table. Ukitake called it a bistro, whatever the hell that meant, and set about explaining French food to me. I ended up just letting him order, because it turned out I really did know shit about French restaurants.
"Did you enjoy your classes today?" he asked pleasantly, once the waiter had disappeared.
"Um…" I wasn't used to hearing that question with such positive phrasing. "Sure?"
"You weren't too tired?" he modified, looking amused again.
"Oh. I was a little tired, but it's whatever," I shrugged it off. "I slept a bit earlier, so I'm fine now."
"I'm relieved to hear that." His eyes shone faintly. "I would hate to feel responsible for impacting your nocturnal wanderings."
He looked completely sincere, but I could feel the tease of dry humor in his words. One of my eyebrows slid up and the corner of his mouth lifted in response.
"I understand you time is somewhat stretched these days," he continued, looking more reflective. "It would be a shame to see your studies suffer, though I fear there may be little help for it at times."
"I actually do pretty well in school," I disclosed grudgingly, because he seemed genuinely concerned.
"Then I'm relieved, again," he said quietly, and this time there was no teasing.
The waiter caught his attention as he returned to the table, presenting a bottle of wine for Ukitake's inspection. He nodded his consent, allowing a glass to be poured and waited for the man to leave before raising it, inhaling slowly. He took a sip, letting it roll on his tongue with a small smile.
"I'll probably regret this later," he admitted with a sigh, taking another sip.
I gave him a blank look and he shook his head ruefully.
"Alcohol aggravates my condition at times," he clarified, setting the glass back on the table.
I winced, remembering what I'd heard about him coughing up blood. It sounded rough, and pretty fucked up.
"It's not contagious," he assured me, having misinterpreted my expression. "I understand it can be in humans, but you needn't worry around me."
"I don't care about that," I said dismissively, and it was true, I'd never even thought about it. "Just sounds like it sucks."
"It does," he replied, though he seemed entertained by my phrasing, "but I've learned to live with it."
I watched him spin the stem of his glass gently between his fingers and felt sad in the knowledge that no matter how many battles we won, he'd never truly be free.
"There's nothing anyone can do?" It was a stupid question because of course they would have already tried.
His eyes softened and he raised the glass to his lips again, choosing to remain silent. It upset me more than it should have. I was tired of it all; of everything just being so unfair. Good people suffered, bad people won; it was all bullshit. It made me feel hopeless and tired and angry all in the same breath.
"Kurosaki-kun."
His elbows were resting on the table, chin propped against laced fingers as he regarded me with quiet understanding.
"Stop thinking about it," he ordered softly, calm acceptance drifting through his aura. "There is nothing you can do, and I came to terms with it long ago. It's not as dire as you may assume; I do still manage to entertain myself on occasion."
He smiled at me with a tranquil sort of grace and I tried not to look so unsettled, even though it still ate at me.
"Tell me about your classes," he prompted, after a second or two of my continued silence.
I knew he was just trying to change the subject, but it didn't really matter. It was his business anyway, and if he didn't want to talk about it then I didn't have the right to push. I grumbled a little about what we were studying and he seemed to find it more interesting than I ever did. By the time our food came I was talking more freely, and he looked like he wished he could pass for a student. He really did get a kick out of the weirdest shit.
I eyed my plate critically for a moment, taking in the foreign presentation and combination of smells. Ukitake said it was chicken in wine sauce, and that sounded okay, even if it looked a little weird. I had limit exposure to eating with a fork and knife, but I knew how to use them so I gave it a shot. It wasn't bad at all, kind of rich and definitely different. I took another bite and it really started to grow on me.
"What do you think?" He asked, after I'd had a few minutes to mull things over.
"It's good," I admitted, sounding more than a little surprised.
He laughed. "I'm glad it meets with your approval."
He kept up a light conversation as we ate and I found, with much less surprise this time, that he was easy to talk to. When the check came, he waved off my attempts to pay for myself, saying he really didn't mind and that it wasn't a problem. I felt weird about it, but after a couple of failed argument it became clear that he wasn't going to budge. Fuck, there wasn't much I could do because he was already signing the credit card slip by that point. I followed him back into the night, still grumbling faintly about being paid for.
"I have very few expenses, Kurosaki-kun," he said gently, glancing over at me while we walked. "Human money is of no use to me in Seireitei, and I so rarely find time to myself anymore."
"Where do you even get money?" I asked, a brow lifting in question as I caught his eye.
He just smiled, but didn't reply. It was sort of a rude question really, but he didn't look upset, merely amused. I didn't apologize, but I let it drop. For all I know, the Shinigami picked money off a damn tree somewhere.
It was less than five minutes before he drew up in front of an ordinary looking building, staring at the sign as if to verify he was in the right place. It looked like a bar, and I wondered briefly if I'd have trouble getting in, but there was no one at the door, and no one bothered us as we wandered toward a circular booth. Ukitake slid into the seat, making room as I followed, scoping out the unfamiliar territory. Somewhere just out of view, I could hear the faint whine of instruments being tuned, but the low hum of voices still dominated the room.
"Would you care for a drink, Kurosaki-kun?" Ukitake offered politely as one of the servers passed.
"You mean like alcohol or just anything?" I asked, curious in spite of myself.
"Either way," he shrugged, as though he made no real distinction.
"You do know I'm underage, right?" I clarified further, because I really wasn't sure if he did.
"Of course," he said simply, looking not at all put out by the fact.
I frowned a little, not because it upset me, but because I'd always pictured him as more straight-laced.
"You don't think it's wrong to buy me alcohol?" I asked curiously. "I heard you were sorta strict when it came to moral shit."
He sighed, leaning his head back against the booth and closing his eyes.
"You're confusing morality with legality," he explained softly, shifting a little to get more comfortable. "And while I do admittedly strive to maintain a personal moral code, there are times when it varies from, or even comes into direct conflict with, what may or may not be legal."
I remembered the whole thing with Rukia, where he and Kyouraku-taichou had, in fact, defied a great number of Soul Society's laws to do what they felt was right. That was one of the things I'd really admired about them, because it was pretty much how I did things, too.
"Take this situation, for instance," he continued. "While I would find it somewhat disconcerting to provide liquor to someone as young as yourself, I also see a degree of hypocrisy in stating that someone is mature enough to risk their life in defense of the world and yet not mature enough to make their own decisions regarding something as mundane as drinking."
There was a certain logic to what he said; one I couldn't really argue with.
"So old enough to die, old enough to drink?" I muttered, drawing his gaze as he rolled his head against the booth to look at me.
"I sincerely wish there was an age limit on death," he said, sounding wistfully sad. "And, though I'm not overly fond of your phrasing, that is the general idea."
He gave me a tired smile and I was reminded of the sheer amount of shit he must have seen in his long life.
"I don't drink," I told him quietly, feeling strangely solemn.
"Then I needn't bother with my conflicted feelings." His smile grew warmer as the first chords of music drifted through the air.
I was surprised again when I caught the next strain, because I'd pictured him as a classical person, or classic rock at best, but apparently that wasn't the case. I really needed to stop making random fucking assumptions about him.
I didn't have an easy description for what was playing, but the closest I could come in my head was that it was like heavy metal with cellos. There were other instruments, too, normal shit like guitars and drums, but there were also definitely cellos. It was different than anything I'd ever heard, but it actually sounded pretty good. I blinked, turning back to face him.
"I have a rather broad taste in music," he admitted, laughing at my surprise. "I find the variety refreshing."
"Okay," I said, because I hadn't found anything more useful to say.
"What do you think of it?" He was still chuckling at me with that look of easy fondness.
"I like it," I decided. "It's different."
He seemed pleased with that, leaning back and closing his eyes again as he began to explain the details of the genre. The more he said the more animated he became, his hands rising now and then to illustrate some point. He was moving slightly in time with the rhythm, and I began to understand that his fondness for music transcended simple enjoyment. Music touched him on some deeper lever, like a primal language he could feel on the air. A languid smile lingered on his lips as the tension began to slide from his body, drifting away on the curling beat.
By the time we'd been there an hour he seemed like an entirely different person, alive and glowing with a faint flush of excitement. I caught myself staring a couple times, because it was just so unreal. Ukitake Juushiro, usually stoic captain, looking completely casual in a T-shirt and jeans and swaying in time with the music.
The third time around he was the one who caught me, turning to watch me lazily through half lowered lashes. Short strands of hair were escaping their tie, falling into eyes that were dark and dilated under the weight of the music, and maybe the wine. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he tipped his head in silent question.
I felt the heat crawl into my cheeks for no fucking reason at all, but I couldn't think of anything to say while he still had that look on his face. One dark brow crept gently upward, and I caught the faint sheen of sweat on his flushed skin. I frowned, and he watched with mild interest as I slid closer to press the backs of my fingers against his forehead.
"You're warm," I muttered, my childhood spent in a clinic bubbling to the surface.
"I told you I'd regret the wine," he reminded me softly, catching my wrist to drag my hand away. "It was worth it, though."
From my closer perspective I could see the faint lines of fatigue starting to show on his face, though his smile remained relaxed.
"Do you need something?" I asked in concern. "I'll get some water."
I started to rise but he tugged on my wrist, pulling me back into the seat.
"I'll be fine, Kurosaki-kun," he assured me, dark eyes warming as they moved over my face. "I appreciate your concern, but I understand my condition far too well. I have another hour or so in me before I'll have to leave."
He stared at me for a moment, giving my wrist a little squeeze before releasing me. He settled deeper into the booth, leaning his head back again, though he made no move to put more space between us. I leaned back, too, but I knew I was still frowning, mostly at my inability to do a fucking thing to help.
He was right with his timing, it turned out. About an hour later the fatigue was really starting to show and he finally relented, sliding from his seat and heading reluctantly for the door. I followed a couple steps behind, letting the final strains of music wash over me as I stepped into the cool, night air.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" He asked me quietly, making his way through the empty streets.
"Yeah," I confessed, feeling completely relaxed. "It was nice to do something normal for a little while."
He smiled, seeming to like the assessment, and continued down the sidewalk. We made it a few more steps before he paused, shoulders shaking slightly as he coughed into his sleeve. He raised his other hand to forestall my concern, and managed to drag himself under control in a second or two. He shook his head in exasperation and shot me a tired look.
"Perhaps the wine wasn't worth it after all," he conceded. "It's a shame we had to leave before they finished."
"You could try tomorrow," I suggested, but he shook his head.
"I have other plans tomorrow," he informed me, the smile returning to his lips. "Ones I'd rather not forgo."
"Oh, that's cool, then." I shrugged; starting to get that same fucking dejected feeling I'd had the night before. I pushed it down irritably, shoving my hands into my pockets.
"Do you have any interest in keeping me company again?" He asked casually, though there was a shrewd edge to his tone that made me drop my eyes.
I shrugged again. "I don't want to be a problem."
"I wouldn't ask you if you were," he assured me gently, and I felt a little lighter, even though it was fucking ridiculous.
Teenage emotions were such bullshit.
"Okay."
I knew he could hear the smile in my voice, and I didn't even care. Fuck it, I'm allowed to be happy once in a while, even if it's over weird-ass shit like hanging out with Ukitake. We parted ways a couple of minutes later, him heading off into the darkness, and me making my way toward home. It was such a normal night that I could almost forget what lay ahead, and maybe in the end that had been the point. His escape had become my escape, and I was glad for the relief, however brief it might be. Soon enough it would all fall apart, and sometimes you just had to take what you could get.
(Next Chapter)