Meet Again Next Spring
By YunCyn

Written: 13 August 2005
A/N: Story was inspired by the lj community "ditesuneconte – tell a tale" where phrases are given and are inserted into stories. One in challenge #6 triggered a lurking idea.

Dedicated to my Dad whose birthday falls on August 14. God bless you with much happiness, health and love, Papa!

The morning awoke to the first day of spring.

And those within a certain mansion treaded lightly. The servants knew well what that day meant and tiptoed, performing their duties with bated breaths and hushed whispers. The family exchanged glances, sad and solemn but all with the tinge of apprehension. Conversation was like the atmosphere that fell upon that household – quiet and mournful. The bare branches of the cherry blossom trees in the garden, with flowers yet to bloom, added to the morning's sadness.

And the head of the household said nothing.

In his silence, the family quivered but followed suit, making no sound. He would not be working that day, just like all the first days of past springs.

The servants kept busily silent, going to and fro within the corridors, running errands and completing last minute tasks. They worked quickly, aware of the shortening of the time they had.

-ººº-

The morning extended into noon.

The servants gathered at the gate, receiving last minute instructions from the family members.

But the head of the household still said nothing, merely waiting.

Finally, they were ready after one last word. The entire family mounted their steeds and they filed out of the compound. The servants remained behind, bowing to wish their masters a silent good journey and comfort to ease the old wounds.

-ººº-

Noon melted into afternoon.

They were all gathered there, in front of the white marble. Inscribed were details of who lay beneath, her date of death, her simple eulogy.

The head of the household had remained silent all this while, letting the members of his family, aunts, uncles, cousins and such, pay their respects to her, bowing and talking to her quietly as though she could hear them.

His sister especially took a longer time than usual, probably whispering to her things he would not intrude into. Many things had revealed themselves in the past months after all.

He was the last to bow and kneel before her tombstone because he would remain the longest.

-ººº-

The afternoon glazed into evening.

His family had already left, taking his steed with them. He would not need it.

His sister stood behind him. They had been here for hours but she still did not leave. He had said little the whole time, busy delving into times gone by and remembering old pictures in his mind. He had been talking with her too and his sister-in-law did not begrudge him that.

After all, it was only once a year that he came. Only once a year he let himself go.

Only once a year he grieved for his wife.

She saw the shining gleam in his eyes and knew it was time to go. She tried her hardest not to let her voice crack when she murmured.

"…Niisama… I'm going now."

"…yes."

Rukia left, resisting the tears until the burial place of her elder sister had gone out of sight.

And he remained.

-ººº-

The evening had turned to rain.

She peered from her office window to see him there in the corner of the courtyard that separated the division lodges, looking up to the pouring rain with his eyes closed.

She knew why: it was the first day of spring. She had seen him do this for fifty first days of springs: go into the courtyard in the evening and look up to the sky through shut eyelids, rain or shine. There was nothing much she could do. She didn't know him well and neither did she know his wife.

But she could imagine that, from his expression as he let the rain fall down upon his face, hair, body and feet, his heart shattered the most on this day, every year.

She could not do much, that was true.

But as a healer, as a friend… she would do what she could.

-ººº-

The rain dissolved into night.

The rain had lightened just a little but it made little difference.

He still stayed there, letting the rain soak his skin and clothes. The year after she had died, he cultivated a habit of standing in the courtyard; to let the rain mingle with his tears so no one could see or to let the wind blow away the grief that didn't seem to go away no matter what he did.

It would be fifty years until the sword that he took for his sister-in-law and the confession of secrets when he could finally feel the grief and guilt slowly ebb away. He no longer remembered Hisana's sickly days but the happier times, the moments when she had laughed and smiled.

He tilted his head upwards to catch the rain a little more.

Nowadays, he found that he needed the rain to cry with him a little lesser than before.

Suddenly, lightly, he couldn't feel the rain anymore and a darker shadow had appeared above him.

He knew what it was and who it was. It was something that kept occurring for over twenty years. Yet he had not questioned and she had not cared to explain.

Twenty years ago, she had first come. He remembered that it had been raining like today, and she had come with a parasol, breaking off the rain. He had opened his eyes, looked at her somber yet understanding expression, and without saying a word, turned away and walked back to his lodge. She then returned to her own office and neither one mentioned anything to the other. And it repeated itself, this ritual, every year ever since.

Now, he opened his eyes and looked up at the cream coloured paper parasol over his head. Rain streaked down his face and neck, soaking his captain's coat and dripping off the ends of his hair. He stared upwards for a moment then opened his wet lips to say, low toned.

"Why."

She did not respond immediately.

"Because you are rash, Captain Kuchiki, and you catch colds easily."

He closed his eyes again and breathed in the scent of rain, heard the sound of rumbling and saw the flashes of Hisana's face. Then he opened them again and looked at Captain Unohana who still held the parasol above his head.

She returned his look, her eyes saying that this was out of empathy, not pity; out of concern regardless of his reaction, out of something akin to friendship.

Byakuya exhaled slowly, taking the parasol from her hand. She did not react in surprise, merely letting it go and letting a small smile grow on her face.

He held the parasol as they both got out of the rain, heading for the shelter of the building. Inside, he snapped it shut and returned it to her.

"…thank you."

"…you're welcome."

They turned, heading to their respective offices, as the rain continued to fall outside.

No doubt, thought Byakuya as he walked to his office, they would meet again next spring.

And perhaps, the rain wouldn't need to cry with him any longer when they next met.

The End.

A/N2: Now, folks, don't make any false assumptions here. Byakuya is not, I repeat, NOT forgetting his beloved Hisana. He is not a kind of person, I know, who forgets someone he treasured so dearly so quickly and that is not my intention here. All I'm trying to do is imagine how he can move on from her death while remembering her life.

…that and I wanted a ByakuyaUnohana moment. (gets stoned)

EnigmaticWind, I just KNOW you're grinning so stop it.