Alternative chapter titles include 'Ishida Uryuu fails to catch a break', 'Universe declares Ishida Uryuu as Public Enemy Number 1′, or 'That time that Good Luck Broke Up With Ishida Uryuu And Wrote a T-Swift-Esque Song About It' (the last one courtesy of mizulily on tumblr).

This is a pretty ish heavy chapter, but fear not, dear readers, Memories in the Rain Rukiaside is coming up and you KNOW that shit is going to be ir cranked up to 200%. Unfortunately, this is the last of my writing buffer, so who knows when the next chapter will be uploaded :'/ I'll do my best to make the wait short, but schoolwork (and possibly Cyclical) takes priority!

I hope you'll stick around anyway, because I DO plan on finishing this, though :')

Two

Accretion Disc (pt 1)

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Ichigo remembers the days following his mother's death with a reluctant clarity. For someone who had been in a near catatonia for months, the memories seem burned into his neural circuits, and he can recall the most insignificant detail pertaining to that time period with painful precision. The cold air of the house, suddenly devoid of warmth. The quiet sobbing of his sisters, still too young to fully grasp the situation. The grim downward curve of his father's lips. And the rain, always the rain, the sound of it on their tiled roof, the clammy feel of it trickling down his neck, the smell of it on the upturned dirt of his mother's grave. Unending and relentless, bleaching the world a muted gray.

It's different this time (and why the hell would he make the comparison anyway?, he thinks angrily, It's not like anyone's died— yet). The sky is offensively blue. The clouds are unashamedly white. And the day passes in a sort of haze, where nothing seems quite real to him. He doesn't remember how he got home, doesn't remember the excuse he gave to his father and sisters. Couldn't tell you if Maths came before History that day, or vice versa. The only thing he sees in his mind are Rukia's eyes, hot then cold then full of tears, all because of him.

That, and her absence; there is a Rukia-shaped hole in the fabric of his world, one that only he seems to be able to perceive. This isn't dying. This is being erased. Like she never existed— and Ichigo wonders which is worse, to be aware of the loss and mourn it your entire life or to be unaware that you're missing something, but spared the pain. He thinks maybe that's why he's holding onto his memories of Rukia so tight, at the sacrifice of all other irrelevant details; there's no-one left to remember her but him. The mark on his palm seems to burn, and he clenches his fist around it.

And why was he even bothering—? Sure, execution, they said, capital offence, they said, but aniki, she said, I've come to my senses, she said. Surely— surely, if he was her brother, he wouldn't willingly let her die, no matter how cold his eyes were. And— and the mark on his collarbones, the crescent moon, so much like hers; he doesn't want to know what the relationship is between them but maybe this was none of his business. The moon, linking the two of them together, and he, the sun; he had no place in the sky while the moon reigned. Did she even want his intervention? What if she was back where she belonged, with the person who bears her mark; what right did he have to drag her away from her world?

But you've already made up your mind, haven't you? Inoue asks him, and it jolts Ichigo out of the prison of his own mind. Families, worlds, that doesn't matter. You'll furrow your brow, pucker up your chin, and say there's always a chance to change things as long as you're alive.

Her eyes soften, and she adds: at least, the Kurosaki-kun I know would say that.

Her words remind him of something he'd forgotten; an image flashes through his head, of Rukia and a juice box and something almost, almost like a smile on her face—

His hands curl into fists, and he stands up.

Thank you, Inoue, he says. She only smiles.

No worries, Kurosaki-kun, she says, come back safe.

He nods at her, and walks away decisively; behind him, he does not see Inoue's hands curl into fists of her own.

No, she mutters, I'll make sure you come back safe—

— The first debris, pulled into orbit.

Their spectacular rescue plan goes wrong almost immediately; Ishida nearly dies within the first five minutes, Inoue's rikka unknowingly come within an inch of annihilation while taking on the Janitor of the Dangai, and then Ichigo himself almost gets beheaded by giant slabs of concrete wall falling from the sky. Not a promising track record given that they are barely ten minutes into the operation, but when their first opponent appears, swinging around two giant axes, Ichigo feels the hint of a grin curling his lips. It's not like he didn't know what he'd signed up for, and this, at least, was something expected; truth be told, he'd have been more worried if nobody appeared to block their path. He's been raring to fight someone other than Sandal-Hat, to test how far his abilities will stretch against other opponents, so when axe-guy declares that nobody has been able to surpass him in the last 300 years, Ichigo tells his friends to stay back as he hacks a path through.

The axe-guy is easy enough, but the Captain they encounter within the walls is something else entirely; before Ichigo can even blink, he's being pushed out of the Seireitei by the tip of the Captain's blade, the man waving a jaunty little 'bye-bye!' at him as he sprawls on the ground. His friends gather round him, but he's fine, if a little winded, and despite the setback this is the first opportunity they've had since the start of the mission to take a breather.

Maybe that's why nobody noticed it earlier.

"I— Inoue-san?" Ishida's voice is half-strangled and disbelieving as he stares at Inoue— or, more accurately, at the mark on her cheek. Ichigo gives her a cursory glance, then does a double-take; he's not the most detail-oriented guy on the planet, no, but he could have sworn Inoue's mark was a…

"Your— your mark, Inoue, wasn't it a six-petaled flower?" he asks, since Ishida looks like he's temporarily lost the ability to speak; Inoue startles and puts a hand up to her face.

"Y— yeah, Kurosaki-kun! Why do you ask?"

"... Because," he says slowly, as he fights the urge to open his palms and immediately check on his own mark, "because it's not anymore. It's— … it's—"

"... a raindrop," Ishida finishes for him, softly, and Inoue flames bright red and claps her hand over her cheek.

"Oh," she gasps. "Oh, no."

Inoue Orihime is not a deceitful person by nature. Subterfuge has never come easy to her; despite this, the paint disguising her mark has become like a second skin, so much so that she feels naked in its absence. She touches her cheek multiple times throughout the rest of the day, as if expecting it to feel different without the layers of make-up, but the skin beneath her fingertips is as smooth and unblemished as it has always felt. For some reason, this adds to her feeling of being off-kilter. Nothing seems different, and yet— now these three other people (and a cat) know more about her than anybody else bar Sora has in her lifetime.

Despite her unease, the opportunity to explain the deception behind her mark does not present itself until well after nightfall. The abrupt reveal of its duplicity had been interrupted by the parakeet boy, Yuuichi Shibata, and then there'd been Jidanbo's arm to reattach; not to mention the weird gang of boar riders that had barged in, picked a fight with Kurosaki-kun and left as quickly as they'd arrived. Come evening, Orihime herself has nearly forgotten about the mark; until she catches Kurosaki-kun throw a furtive look in her direction, before clenching his fists so tight the tendons stand out.

It occurs to her that he hasn't looked at his palm all day.

"I'm sorry!" she blurts out, and three people (and a cat) turn to look at her. "I— I didn't mean to hide it from everyone— well, I mean, sort of, but not because I don't trust you all, or anything. I—I can explain—"

"It's alright," someone interrupts her rather faintly, and Orihime's startled to find out that it's Ishida-kun. "It's— it's fine, Inoue-san. We won't ask. It's your business— not any of ours. Really, you don't have to explain yourself to us— we'll keep our mouths shut about this when we get back to the Gensei, too, if you'd like—"

Kurosaki-kun looks like he has something different to say, so Orihime heads him off with a bright smile. "You're very kind, Ishida-kun. Thank you. But— but it's ok. It's not really some huge, important secret. And I trust you all. It's— it's actually a little silly, when I think about it—"

"I highly doubt that," Ishida-kun mutters. Kurosaki-kun shushes him and gestures for her to continue. He still hasn't unclenched his fists, she notices— any tighter, and he'll start drawing blood. She touches the raindrop on her cheek and contemplates how best to start the explanation.

"Well, you see, my mark started settling very early— when I was around eight or nine. Sora-nii— my older brother— told me it might be best for me to start hiding the mark with make-up or something once it settled. He was worried that someone might— I don't know, use it against me or something? He was looking out for me. But that isn't why I started covering it up, not really."

Kurosaki-kun interrupts. "So— so your mark is originally—"

"A raindrop, yes."

"And you were just covering it up with—"

"Make-up, yeah."

"Oh." Something in Kurosaki-kun seems to give, and he lets out a long, shaky breath, slumping a little. He laughs, loosening his fists to run a hand through his hair. "I— of course. So— so it wasn't like— your mark has changed, or anything—"

"Of course not. I— I don't think soulmate marks are supposed to change, Kurosaki-kun. Kind of defeats the idea of a soulmate, doesn't it? The whole cosmic, predestined thing about it. If your soulmate could change, wouldn't that make you two not-soulmates in the first place?"

"Yeah— yeah, of course. Stupid of me to think that might happen— uh, yeah." He's looking at his mark now, still stark black against the skin of his palm, with an odd expression; something clicks in the back of her mind, and Orihime wonders if he'd been hoping for his mark to have changed— or if he'd been afraid of it.

For the first time since she's met her, Orihime wonders what Kuchiki-san's mark looks like.

"Kurosaki-kun, you—" she begins, but Ichigo snaps his hand shut again and looks up with a smile.

"Sorry for interrupting, Inoue, where were you in the story?"

Orihime recognises it as the dismissal it is meant to be; she drops her line of enquiry with a smile as fake as his.

"Oh— oh, right! Yeah. So, Sora-nii thought I should cover the mark up, and it was kind of exciting, like I was putting on a disguise and being a spy, you know? But that isn't the full reason. I— I mean, soulmate marks just— they just take all the romance out of the thing, don't they?"

She looks around the room for support and finds only three blank faces (and a cat) staring back at her.

"I— uh— what?"

She sighs. "I told you it was a bit silly. But I mean, when I meet my soulmate, I don't want them to— to know they're my soulmate right off the bat. I— I don't want the realisation to be so… mundane. Just a simple 'oh, your mark is identical to mine' and that's it? I mean— I guess I almost, I wanted to test that fate? If they're my soulmate, if we're really, truly meant to be, they'll still fall in love with me even if they thought our marks were different. I guess— if, if I ever meet my soulmate... I just want to know that it's real."

The last word is spoken into complete silence; Orihime squirms. She's never been good with silences, especially ones centered around her. "I— I mean! That's just assuming if I ever met my soulmate. I— not that I think that's the most important thing here or whatever, it's just in case, right? Besides, I— I'm not even sure now if I want to meet my soulmate. I mean, obviously that would be nice, but— but, you can fall in love with people with marks that are different to yours. I understand that now. So— so, this is more force of habit than anything else—"

"Yeah." Kurosaki-kun stands up; he's not looking her way. "Yeah. Of course. The— the marks are kind of bollocks, anyway. Uh, thanks for the story, Inoue. We should— we should all get some rest, it's getting late—"

She jumps up; indeed, the moon has fully risen now, and everything around them is quiet save the crickets. "Oh! Right! Of course! Sorry, I was keeping everyone up—"

There's a general rumble of dissent as everyone hastens to assure her that isn't the case, and then a general kerfuffle as everyone shifts to get ready for bed; Kurosaki-kun has left the room, mumbling something about getting some air. He hasn't looked at her properly since she's started her story, and Orihime doesn't know if she's glad he's seen her real mark or if she wishes he'd never found out. Not that it changes anything either way, she and Kurosaki-kun were mismatched to begin with—

"Don't mind him," a low voice mutters beside her, and Orihime turns to see Ishida-kun holding out a pillow. "Here, Inoue-san— you can sleep in the other room—"

She takes the pillow. "Did it look like I was minding Kurosaki-kun?" she asks.

He flushes; she doesn't know why, when he's the one who's caught her spacing out. "He's— he's just got a lot on his mind. Kuchiki-san—"

Ah. Orihime feels a little bolt of guilt go through her stomach. She'd almost forgotten about Kuchiki-san, the reason they were all here in the first place. This wasn't the time for her feelings about soulmates and romance, not when Kuchiki-san's life hung in the balance— but still she cannot help the question that drops from her lips, not when Kurosaki-kun looks like that and he's been clenching his fists all day and several things are falling into place with heartbreaking clarity.

"Do you— have you ever seen Kuchiki-san's mark, Ishida-kun?"

Ishida-kun looks like he expected this question; he rubs his chin ruefully.

"No," he admits. "But I could probably make a guess, if I had to."

She's quiet for a moment, before she lets out a small, watery laugh. "You too? Me too, Ishida-kun. Me too."

If she had to guess, she would bet that Kuchiki-san's mark, wherever it may be, was black and shaped like a blazing sun—

"But, you know, Inoue-san, people have fallen in love with people who don't bear their marks before—"

"I know, I know." She smiles at him; Ishida-kun was always so kind. She didn't know why people thought he was unfriendly. He was the kindest person she'd ever met. "It's— it's ok, Ishida-kun. Really. But thank you."

"You're— you're welcome," he mutters. She smiles at him one last time before turning away; she bumps into Kurosaki-kun on the way out, and he looks much more relaxed, letting her pass with a nod. She closes the door behind her, and looks at the stars.

The skies are clear today; not an inkling of rain on the horizon. That was ok. Orihime loves the rain, but she loves the sun much, much more. She could wait for the rain. She was good at waiting.

Sometimes, it feels like she'll spend her entire life doing exactly that.

In the Senzaikyuu, Kuchiki Rukia stares at the same sky; the little sliver of it that is afforded by the high window is dark and uniform. She cannot see the moon, but she knows it is risen. There is a long slice of silver-white on her jail cell floor, the only source of light; she places her hand in its path, and watches it bleach her out to a ghostly consistency. She'd always considered the moon to be her element, but tonight even the moon is telling her that she does not belong in this world.

Things have been quiet since she's been moved; she's not sure if that's because there's genuinely nothing happening or if it's because she's surrounded by sekkisekki. She replays Renji's words in her mind—

A boy with orange hair, and a sword as long as his height.

"... please."

There is no-one to hear her but the moon. Rukia prays anyway.

"Please, please— don't let it have been Ichigo—"

Don't let me be the cause of another friend's death—

"— I'm not worth bleeding and dying for, please— Kaien-dono—!"

As these situations go, things could certainly be a lot worse; Ishida Uryuu knows he lucked out. For a heist in enemy territory, it's been relatively smooth sailing so far. There are worse people to have watching your back than Inoue-san, who has reasonable amounts of reiatsu, and also knows how to heal. They'd been able to hide from the enemies they'd encountered so far, and even had they been forced to fight, he was fairly confident they would have come out victorious. They were making good time through the Seireitei, and if their luck continued to hold out at this rate, they'd be at the Senzaikyuu by nightfall.

As these situations go, things could not possibly be worse for him.

Of course, of all the people he got stranded with, it had to be Inoue-san. When had the universe ever been interested in cutting him a break? He chances a glance at her, humming absently and walking a few steps behind him, and the raindrop mark on her cheek seems to glow like a beacon against her warm skin. Cool blue. Quincy reiatsu blue—

So, yesterday hadn't been a fever dream.

The universe really, truly was not interested in cutting him a break.

There hadn't been much time to dwell on the events of last night; after all, they'd been woken at the crack of dawn to be launched out of a cannon, and then, in true Kurosaki fashion, Ichigo had wrecked their entry by being too strong. Precocious to the last, in all things— but at least, if Inoue-san had landed with him, she'd have been guaranteed to be safe. Instead, Kurosaki and Inoue-san had spread out across the sky, straining to reach each other in some sort of perverse Tanabata recreation, before being torn apart by the currents of reiatsu and crash-landing with different people respectively. Ganjuu-san, and—

"Ishida-kun, is there something on my face?"

Uryuu starts. "No— not at all—"

Something seems to dawn in Inoue-san's mind. Her face splits into a smile of comprehension.

"Oh! Stupid question, ha ha. I guess you're still not used to my new mark—"

If understatements were ever graded, that one would get top marks without even trying. Still not used to it was certainly one way of putting it. Uryuu was actually thinking something more along the lines of AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH SHJNJHAJN,JDFMLKSDJOENJFDS WHUEJRRKWNSA HHHHHHHHHHH !$#%%!$% 1!, but sure, he could work with still not used to it.

"— understand if it's weird for you, I've been covering up my mark for so long that even I think it's a flower sometimes. Like this one time, I met a girl who had the exact same flower mark as the one I painted on my cheek—"

Uryuu draws a sharp breath. Oh, god, please tell him they were not about to delve into the subject of matching marks—

"— luckily she didn't believe in the whole soulmates thing, but still, haha. I freaked out a good few hours about the fact that I'd met my soulmate and she didn't seem to have any interest in me—"

He's smiling and nodding along politely, but inside, Ishida Uryuu is screaming. "How— how positively awful—"

"I know, right? Imagine meeting your soulmate only to find out that— that they don't believe in the marks or that they don't have any interest in you or whatever—"

"I can't even fathom it," he replies through gritted teeth.

"— I wonder if there's someone out there with a raindrop mark, too." Inoue-san says, wistful all of a sudden, and Uryuu's glasses almost fall off his face.

"That— that is—"

"I mean, there must be, right? Unless— unless I'm one of those people who just— who don't have a soulmate. Do those exist? I wonder. What do you think, Ishida-kun?"

"I— I, uh— I think it's definitely a possibility that there might be someone out there with a raindrop mark—"

"— but, you know," she continues softly, a melancholy look on her face, "do you think it might be best for them if they never meet me?"

He's thrown by this question. "S— sorry? Why— why do you think—"

"Well." She shrugs, and pulls a mock-angry face that, even through his unbroken unending internal screaming, Uryuu is amused to recognise as Kurosaki. "I mean. I do believe in the soulmates thing, and I suppose if I were to ever meet my soulmate, I'd fall in love with them. But right now, I— right now, there's Kurosaki-kun and— I guess I don't want this feeling erased quite yet? It— it may not be mark-matched but I want this feeling to mean something, Ishida-kun. And… it's a little cruel to do that to my soulmate. To— to make them sit through me loving someone else— although they might be the kind of person who doesn't believe in soulmates, haha. Then I'd be worrying for nothing. But do you see where I'm coming from? Do you think— do you think that whoever has that raindrop mark will be better off not knowing me at all?"

There are a million potential replies to this question teeming inside Uryuu's mind; but for now, he decides to go with the simplest (and truest) option of them all.

"Not at all," he tells her, low and sincere; "I think— I think anyone would be lucky to know you, Inoue-san, mark-matched or not. I'm sure your— your soulmate— wherever they are— will feel the same, too."

Inoue-san looks at him with the strangest expression after that, and Uryuu wonders if he was too obvious, a fear which is confirmed with the next question out of her mouth.

"Ishida-kun, you know, I don't think I've asked— if you don't mind me asking— …..what shape is your—"

She doesn't get to finish; a sword cleaves through the air where she'd been standing moments prior, and Uryuu is in motion faster than he'd ever believed possible. Adrenaline roars in his ears. Inoue-san is still mouthing the tail end of her last word; it trails off into nothing as his hand tightens around her shoulder.

Close. Far too close.

"I missed…?" her assailant mumbles, straightening up, and Uryuu casts his senses out, spirit particles already gathering around himself and Inoue-san.

"Ishida-kun," she breathes.

"Yeah. Sorry, Inoue-san, I cut you off."

"No, that's not— it doesn't matter," she says, and they both watch their attacker draw a sword and boom something about being remorseful.

"Of course it matters. But for now, we'll have to focus on him." He jabs his chin at the opponent, who has started to count to ten; Inoue-san nods.

"FIVE! SIX! SEVEN—"

"Oh, and to answer your question—"

A bow takes shape around Uryuu's hands, ghostly and flickering.

"— it's an arrow."

"...? What is, Ishida-kun?"

"— EIGHT! NINE—"

"My mark." He draws on his surroundings fully, and the bow solidifies; the glowing blue lights them up from below, making her raindrop seem even more prominent than before. "My soulmate mark."

"— TEN! THAT'S IT, RYOKA, I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU ANY MORE TIME TO REPENT! HAVE YOU BEEN PROPERLY REMORSEFUL FOR YOUR SINS THUS FAR?"

Uryuu doesn't know much about remorse, but now, at least, he's got one sin to confess:

"It's an arrow," he tells her, and the lie burns like holy fire all the way out.