epilogue: ashes of time

The yellow taxi stops, most likely due to a series of traffic jams.

Ichigo thanks the taxi cabbie, pays him, and gets out of the car. It's been three years and Tokyo, culturally, simultaneously seems foreign and familiar.

One thing hasn't changed: the IT Group building. Its building continues to stand tall within Tokyo's cityscapes.

He contemplates for a bit on whether he should see if she's there or not, but according to the news, she's been teaching at Caltech as a visiting professor. Maybe she wouldn't be there.

And he's purposely delaying their meeting, even if there is an instant urge to see if she remembers him.

And what could have been.

His feelings for her never wavered.

He sighs as the taxi drives forward; his eyes never straying from the building.

.

.

.

Ichigo looks at the unchanging complex and enters. In the elevator, he anxiously taps his foot, unsure whether he was ready for any confrontations or reunions.

He shares the elevator with a two other people, both holding onto a moving dolly full of boxes.

Someone's moving in today.

Ichigo lets them get out of the elevator first and sees that three doors down from her unit, someone has co-opted two units, and was moving in.

And Ukitake was supervising the movers until he saw Ichigo. "Kurosaki-kun! When did you return to Japan?" asks a surprised Ukitake.

"Exactly three hours ago," Ichigo replies. He then gifts Ukitake an exclusive bottle of wine from his restaurant, thanking him for his hospitality from years before. "Where's Kyōraku-san and…Ise-san? I brought them another bottle."

"Ah, thank you for your kindness, Kurosaki-kun," Ukitake says. "Shunsui and Nanao went on a business trip together. I'm not sure when they'll be back. Shunsui ask that I take over Katen Kyokotsu."

Ichigo didn't know what else to say, so he chose to remain silent. But as of late, he just wanted to know something. Whether she's still living here.

Ukitake predicted as much. "Kurosaki-kun...Nanao always wanted to apologize…to you and Rukia. But before she was able to, Rukia already left for the States. She had no right to make you both feel guilty when all of us knew you two were just closely acquainted..."

.

.

.

Ukitake stops as Ichigo shakes his head. "It's fine, Ukitake-san. I've moved on. Everyone moved on." That burning desire to know about her current whereabouts lingers as he stares at her old(?) unit.

Ukitake follows his line of gaze and before he was able to say anything else, fits of violent coughing overcame him.

Ichigo tells him to go rest and they will catch up another time and hands him the other bottle of wine, telling him to keep it for Shunsui.

He exits Ukitake's unit and stands in front of her old unit.

As he leaves, he notices a couple exiting out of the unit. But it wasn't them.

Disappointed, he asks the couple what happened to the other couple/tenants.

"They moved out a long time ago."

Though sadness and disappointment were evident in his eyes, he smiles as he looks at her former door.

.

.

.

Two people were loudly arguing over a cat.

"Give me the cat!" yells the female.

"Absolutely not! Such a cute creature shouldn't be handled by a vulgar woman!" screams the male.

Rukia takes off her ear plugs and rolls her eyes.

Good lord. Sentarō and Kiyone have not changed. Still so obsessive and jealous over who gets to take care of Chappy. Or Ukitake-sensei for that matter.

She shudders and then tells the two, "Hey, you two! Stop yelling! You're scaring Chappy." She then sweetly changes her tone, "Come here, Chappy. Don't let the crazies eat you."

Pyon!

Chappy immediately run and jumps into Rukia's waiting hands and snuggles with her.

She looks at Sentarō and Kiyone as they argue again. They're now debating who's the crazier of the two.

Rukia shakes her head and then walks out to the hallway as she talks to the movers.

She moved back here after her three-year contract ended at Caltech. While she enjoyed Pasadena, Japan was her home. Tokyo, even if it was a spatial location full of painful memories, was a place where she could always return to.

She sighs.

There were many instances where the desire to see him was so strong that she almost disavowed everything, wanting to fly back to Seattle to see if there was still a chance. An opportunity for them. Their future. But in the end, she was able to, once again, control those urges.

She looks at her sleepy cat and smiles, placing a kiss on her nose.

After supervising the movers, she walks out of the two conjoined units and walks to the hallway, staring at a few doors down, where he used to live.

And smiles, reflecting back on what wasn't, could've been, and what never was.

Such is life; full of double standards, stringencies, pretenses, hidden despairs, and oxymorons.

.

.

.

Rukia decides to walk to the underground jazz bar to meet her colleagues and friends. They insisted on celebrating their boss' return. She doesn't know why as she visited Tokyo frequently during the holidays and she was practically living on Skype, specifically for Rangiku.

She then stops as she sees his restaurant, surprised that it was closed so early in the night.

Was it early?

She looks at her phone: 7pm.

She reads the note on the door: Closed today for staff celebration. Will resume regular hours next week.

Staff celebration?

Was it someone's birthday?

…

Or did he…

Rukia's heart skips a beat.

…return?

.

.

.

Rukia descends down the stairs, but bumps into the person climbing up the stairs.

As she steps down, she stares at the person and her eyes widen.

.

.

Ichigo decides to leave the group for a bit for some much needed fresh air as the environment and smoke were suffocating him.

As he walks up, he stares down at the person and furiously blinks in disbelief.

.

.

.

The duo continues to stare at each other, each experiencing a different sensation at seeing each other again – at this very spot – after three years.

His eyes drop down and it was that exact moment that he could feel his heart rate accelerating at a dangerous rate. A stirring sensation he was devoid of for so long.

She was ring-less.

Did that mean…?

Did destiny give him – them – another chance?

.

.

Her eyes never let his face. Her lifeless, almost robotic eyes of the past three years suddenly held a miniscule spark of emotion. A sensation that was concealed the moment she signed her divorce papers.

She finally lowers her gaze; her attentive eyes widen even more as she sees a tattoo. His only tattoo, it seems.

A small, yet bold black crescent moon near his wrist.

Did that mean…?

He was like a stranger yet a familiar face that had vanished from her conscious. Or maybe he never really vanished from her heart.

She continues to stare at his eyes and is able to discern the subtle message swirling around those deep irises:

All that time, frozen. As though he was able to control the speed of time, he felt that he had the power to crush destiny; a destiny that was set in crushing them. His past becomes blurred with his present and future. Saved memories. Of her.

.

.

He stares at her despondent eyes and painfully sees:

She recognizes that their time vanished. The clock rotates itself continuously. That she was the one who decided that she would become the rotator. The speed of time progresses. And that moving time forward was the(ir) best option. Never returning. But time winds itself back, starting anew. For him.

.

.

"Did…did you call me…Rukia?"

"That was a long time ago, Ichigo."

.

.

.

time becomes nothing more than the ashes they left behind.

fin.

End notes:

Intentionally written in the present.

The ending is heavily influenced by another great, visual poet, Wong kar-wai, who ended the film with such a haunting caption. Well, this entire story was influenced by his film. He also directed a wuxia movie called Ashes of Time and I thought it would be a fitting title for an epilogue.

I am not sure when Midnight Library will be updated because I'm really busy and I don't want to make any promises. I really shouldn't have been working on this story, but fiction writing is great for free writes. And it never fails to amaze me that reviews are a platform for condescending, uninspiring remarks, but I guess technology provides that very platform for anonymity, without the wittiness or intellectual depths that are the so called traces of human nature.

Thank you for reading.

Much gratitude.