Laid to Rest
Summary: "If there was a single day I could live; a single breath I could take... I'd give it all for him." The words that would forever help heal her broken heart. [ukitake x oc
Disclaimer: Bleach is created and owned by Tite Kubo. The title of this one-shot belongs to a song by the band Lamb of God.
Conflict loved her, she finally decided, to the point where it was obsessed with her. It followed her wherever she went, as if she were a magnet and it one of the three main components that can produce a magnetic attraction. She hated it: it made her feel like a piece of meat dangled before the starving lion. Once the lion grabs, it plans to swallow the meat whole unless somehow killed or stopped.
Her breathing became deep and erratic. The deep shallow breaths bounced off the inner canal of her ears, forcefully making their way to the drum. It wasn't there, but she could make out the delicate sound of what a watch would make when wrapped in cotton. In perfect sync the two sounds danced together, one of a slow tempo and the other fast. To add one more delicate sound to her music, an overshadowing but hollow roar defeated it. She growled out low, as if angered by her precious ballad being ruined. The sound passed through her pale red lips, caressed throughout every solid bone in her body. It dared to challenge the roar, which rattled every one of them.
Sayuri could take no more. Teeth clenched and her form livid with wrath
she clutched at the hilt in her hands. Thick plastic feeling material
pried into the flesh of her hands, forcing it against a thin polyester
material; it covered the metallic parts of the handle. Her knuckles
paled from their rich peach color to that of the whitest bed sheets.
Her thick black hair failed to bring back the strands, which attempted
to remove themselves from the group by way of the wind. The small
threads tickled against her neck. Above the roaring, ticking, and
drumming, one word fell from her lips and into the night:
"Spread."
Her wine eyes hardened with ever-present violent anger, which in turn caused them to narrow. Her mouth set in a grim line, she watched in silent reprieve as the blade glowed the color of the sun. The blade of her zanpakutou began to split into four separate petals, each dying white. Pointed and those of lilies, Sayuri felt the corners of her lip twitch at seeing the familiar white petals spread out to defend her. The giant beast roared, very much displeased with her having released her shikai to him. Dirty and beady little yellow vacant eyes hovered on her lithe frame through the oblong mask. It was approximately a meter in length, ending with a sharp point for the chin. Its mouth lay halfway open to reveal a stubborn tongue licking each protruding exoskeleton part wrongly called teeth. The brick red body didn't stand out well against the night as they seemed to envelope one another. With six long and scorpion-like legs, it was a quite a fast Hollow, and proved itself to be as it rushed towards her with the speed of a train, possibly the strength, too.
Sayuri did not move. She locked her knees in place and braced herself. She raised her giant flower of a weapon to defend her. A spitefully mocking laugh emitted from the beast as it approached her. The eyes, though strangely malleable with the mask, narrowed into thin slits, as much as hers had done. "What on earth could a flower do to me?" it sneered. There were just the lightest of inklings hinting that he wanted to chastise her for being so foolish. All the ebony haired woman did was smile wryly. It puzzled the Hollow quite so, but it pondered nothing over the matter. The next thing had surprised her. Just as it had scorpion-like legs, it also had a scorpion build altogether. The poison tipped tail slammed down into the ground, just barely passing over one of the petals of her zanpakutou. An eggshell seemed to have cracked as loud as it could, leaving a spider web of fractures in the ground. Her body was forced back from the blow just about half a meter. She did not show the pleasure she felt on the inside as one of the four petals fell away from the hilt.
'First petal,' Sayuri narrated herself. The Hollow was filled with glee, and promptly began to boast about her "weak" Shikai. The violet-eyed maiden said nothing of it and moved her position. It would be too obvious had she merely stood there until the remaining three petals fell. Again, the thunderous noise reigned again, slamming into the ground. 'Second petal,' she thought with a twisted inner grin. Of course, had she showed her emotions, she would have given herself away. Instead her facade took on a disgruntled expression as the monster cried out, throwing its abdominous body around. Sayuri jumped back, to the side, and even over the large beast before the third petal finally fell. 'Third petal,' a triumphant tone possessed her innermost thoughts.
The final petal danced with the wind's embrace, but still shining as bright as the heavens. The Hollow continued to boast, proclaiming how pitiful it was that her Shikai had started off with four petals and had been reduced to a mere one after three blows. Sayuri sneered once again at him, clutching the hilt of her weapon. It quivered with raw, unbridled power. The feeling alone just made her want to smile. The weapon's handle increased in heat with every petal that fell, creating something that wasn't too hot, but insured her to feel the darkness within. She flitted over to the left, looking around blindly as her onyx mane fell into her eyes. At that time the scorpion-like Hollow chose to strike at her again, severing the final petal from its place. It was then she allowed herself a malicious grin, alerting the Hollow to his defeat. Each fallen petal dimmed to a strange gray color, but yet absorbing the stock from the hilt in Sayuri's hands.
"Break, Shirachi," she commanded ruthlessly. Each petal melted into the color of the blade of her unreleased weapon, but taking different shapes. One had shrunken to the size of a dagger or wakizashi. The second elongated to that of a katana; the third a wooden staff; and the fourth a sai-like weapon without the side prongs. The beast panicked, roaring into the heavens about what the quandary could possibly be. He moved to swipe at her, his fury evident to what she had done. How could her weapon move from a defensive to an offensive release on the same level? They were just Shikai!
Sayuri jumped back once more, giving herself a fair distance from the monster. She landed neatly atop a telephone pole, the moonlight of the night shining down on her back. Her dark garbs were illuminated, the wind wafting about to wave her shihakuso along the breeze. Her sleeves fluttered, and her hair clung to the airwaves. Still, the malevolent smile never faded from her lips. Slowly, her amethyst vision receptors fell shut.
Her left arm rose from the side, pointing down elegantly at the wrist. "Ichi," she whispered, watching as one of the newly materialized blades began to move from its fallen position. The arm curved in, pressing against her chest and reversing the position at which the wrist fell down; it pointed up. Two of her fingers connected directly over the center of her partially revealed palm.
"Ni," she continued. Sayuri bent her knees, bringing up her other arm. It bent at the elbow inwards, and in turn the wrist of that hand did the same. Her fingers spread out like a ballet pose,
"San," The first arm she moved repositioned itself vertically above her head. It allowed her fingers to spread as wide as possible, almost creating the five points of a pentagram.
"Shi."[1 she finished. The plum colored orbs snapped open, watching as a dark crimson aura materialized around each "weapon". It left the Hollow to her sights as each weapon had positioned itself around him, plunging into the surface of his mask. He shouted into the night, his body disintegrating like the sandy grains of time.
The hilt that had once vanished without a trace reappeared in her hands, blade intact and unreleased. In light of her vanquish, Sayuri smiled. She had told the petite woman she could do it, had she not?
She jumped to the ground, landing with knees crouched to discern the major parts of the blow. She folded her arm over her opposite side to place the zanpakutou back in its sheath. Her smile melted from malicious to gleeful in an instant. From the darkness entered another ebony haired figure, though shorter by much difference than Sayuri. Her black attire also waved with the breath of the lonely night. She looked around with her own tainted mauve eyes, alert and ready for anything. Her hair was short and bob-like, curving to the shape of her head and eventually her neck, flaring out where it ended at her shoulders. Her face was devoid, as a noble's should be, while she examined the scene of battle. Sayuri had landed with her back to the woman, her long and thick obsidian tresses grazing the small of her back--from the high perch of her ponytail. The dark red ribbon glistened in the moonlight, contrasting against the purple sheen of her onyx hair. She rounded to face the other girl, a playful sneer present on her facade. "Ha, I told you I mastered both Shikai, Rukia!" she gloated, lacing her words thick with pride.
The shield of her face shattered instantly, replacing her slack rouge-colored lips with an upward twist. "So you did Sayuri, so you did..." Rukia murmured, still glancing about her. A rough shine appeared behind them, being dimmed by the sliding doors in the center. Both looked back at it simultaneously, and walked forward to enter through the gates of Soul Society...
The two walked along the paved old-fashioned walkway of Soul Society. Their feet clad in Gobi sandals tapped against the ground in a lulling rhythm. Sayuri walked with her hands folded into the sleeves of the opposite arm. Her zanpakutou bounced at her side in sync with her steps. Energetically her black hair vibrated from side to side, also in sync with her hips. Rukia walked in line with her Shinigami friend, her arms held at her sides. Occasionally a gust of wind would blow through the area and send strands of both girls' hair reaching out for the eye of the storm. Rukia passed her tongue over the bottom lip before addressing her friend. "Ukitake-taicho would want bearings of your progress," she stated idly. The silence, though comforting and warm, bothered her. She just had to break the ice, so to speak.
Sayuri's plum-colored eyes fell shut for a second or two. During the
duration of that time, she nodded her head a couple times in assent.
Rukia had a point. The shorter obsidian-haired maiden looked up to her
friend, frowning at the slight dejection and lower
twist of the taller one's lips. "I know," Sayuri murmured. With her
eyes back open, Rukia could see the turmoil of Sayuri's thoughts. They
shimmered with a glean that possibly foreshadowed unshed tears. Coupled
with the look of dejection, she could safely assume her friend wasn't
looking forward to the confrontation with their captain. Rukia frowned.
"I don't see why you don't request a division transfer, Sayuri," she addressed her friend's issue carelessly. "If your feelings are making you u resent any form of confrontation with him, why are you still here?" she inquired, carrying on her statement. As if waiting for a violent reaction, she looked up at the sad girl expectantly. She watched as her companion bit her bottom lip a sign of uncertainty.
"Because I have friends," Sayuri began. "If I leave the division, I won't see them as often as I would like to. For that I would take possessing a crush on my captain any day," she finished, clear determination in her words. For friendship, eh? Rukia smiled at those words--a good friend indeed. Since the mood was getting too dreary for Sayuri's preference, she grinned. Her face betrayed her dark feelings within her; something only her eyes hinted at.
"C'mon, I'm sure my mother has some lemon rinse ready for him. We'll get it while we're here," she said, quite cheerily Rukia noted. In turn, the shorter Shinigami nodded. She hadn't noticed they were in the fourth division vicinity until the other girl mentioned it. She blinked in surprise--how dense of her to realize such a thing so late in the game.
Curiously, she looked around and spotted their destination a mere meter away. To alert Sayuri, Rukia tugged on the sleeve of her arm. The girl looked around, smiling sheepishly when she noticed she was about to pass her destination. Her hand removed itself from the sleeve and scratched the back of her neck under the ponytail. Her jet-black strands curled at her touch against her neck.
Both girls turned with full intention of heading towards the door to their left; however, they were interrupted by an erupt thud! Rukia was forced to stop walking to look at her friend: Sayuri had somehow managed to do a face-plant with hands other either side of her face. A single large bead of sweat materialized and dripped down the side of the Kuchiki's head. "Sayuri... did you just trip over your zanpakutou?" she asked incredulously. Sayuri raised the hand on her left in the air. She waved it and gave thumbs up to let Rukia know she was okay... Or she was confirming her inquiry. Rukia stifled a giggle.
Angrily, the fallen girl huffed to her feet. She took in a deep breath, and strode over to the door. Three knocks alerted whoever was inside of their presence. They didn't wait for a sound of confirmation, but merely entered the room.
The woman in the center of the room was leaning with her back arched over something. It didn't take a genius to realize how focused she was on whatever she was doing. Both girls took a slackened pose; Sayuri's arms back in their opposite sleeves. They watched the woman work silently, soon noticing an unconscious being beneath her. Sayuri had planned on surprising her mother, but thought better of it since she could possibly injure the person even further.
In the mean time, both girls of the Thirteenth Division busied themselves with examining the room over with their mirroring plum hues. They continued to do so for several minutes, listening to each grunt, groan, and angry murmur the two people elicited from one another. As Sayuri examined the person's body, she could tell he had been in a rather bad fight. There was a wound the size of a small dinner plate oozing with blood directly over his right kidney. His shirt had a hole cut in it where the wound was; an inch of flesh was shown, stained in the delicious satin red color. They hadn't noticed it until that moment, but the room reeked of the thick metallic scent that normally accompanied sanguine. His wound was a crimson color on the outer edges, nearing the skin and fabric of his clothing. The closer to the center of the wound one looked, the darker the blood got. It looked nearly black at that point. Scrunching up her nose, Sayuri waved her hand around in hopes of ridding the dark smell from her scent receivers. She was never one for bloodshed.
The woman heaved a heavy sigh, watching as the wound never faded away. The more energy she used, the more infected it appeared to be getting. She wiped the back of her hand against her forehead, brushing against her dark brown curls. She turned to look to the left, and her eyes widened at seeing the two girls. "Oh, Kuchiki-san, Sayuri-chan, I didn't even hear you knock!" she exclaimed, very much exhausted. The two girls offered her a small smile and approached the woman.
"We're on our way to report to Ukitake-taicho. Since we were in the vicinity, we thought we should come see you," Sayuri conversed with her mother, ignoring the wine-tinted ebony hairs that fell into her eyes. Gingerly her mother applied gauze to the wound and pressed her palm into it. If she added more pressure, the bleeding would hopefully stop. It seemed the patient didn't feel that way, his upper half thrust forward as he screamed in agony.
"It was also a possibility you would have some more lemon rinse for our captain, Kiyomoto-san," Rukia interjected. The woman dared to lift her hand off the man's body for but a moment then nodded. Neither of the two girls flinched one bit at seeing the pearlescent eyes. They both had gotten used to having seen the woman with such strange occuli; she was blind after all. Though what they found the strangest was how the woman used her spiritual pressure to replace her eyes. One should mention how hard it is to keep her spiritual pressure fanned out and attempt to heal someone at the same time.
"Yes, it's over there." Her smile was weary, and both Shinigami could tell how fatigued she was by her movements. Sayuri walked over to the area her mother motioned, digging through the papers and miscellaneous objects that dared to distract her. Within a moment, she found a pear-shaped bottle filled with a thick yellow substance.
"Found it," she chimed, turning back to face her mother, the patient, and her friend. "Hibana-kaasan, are you sure you don't want me to call for someone to come help you? You're pooped! I'm sure Hanataro wouldn't mind--" she was interrupted mid-sentence.
"No, don't. He's visiting Shizuka today; I don't want to disturb the both of them," she murmured, still quite weary in her tone. Sayuri frowned and placed her hands on her hips. She watched as her mother returned to tending the wound of the man. She noted grimly how sweaty his skin appeared to be from the little expanse of flesh that was revealed.
"I'm going to get Unohana-taicho," she suddenly said, turning around to hear a sharp no from her mother and Rukia blocking the doorway. Of course Sayuri was quite concerned with her mother's condition, need you be reminded she's blind.
"Just get that book over there," she motioned with her hand again to a certain area. Not once did she remove her analytical gaze from the man's wound. Sayuri bobbed her head, clearly displeased. Nonetheless she grabbed the book, waiting for her mother's instructions. "Page seventy-nine." Sayuri began her hunt for the page, attempting to recall what remedy could be contained there. She soon found herself wrong, and handed over the book for her mother to read. The fingers of her free hand skimmed across the bottom half written specifically for blind people. She nodded and "hm-ed" a few times. Once she was done, she turned her book back to Sayuri, giving her the command to find the ingredients listed on that page.
The taller onyx haired girl nodded, turning to Rukia with a look of assistance requested. Both girls looked around the room in several herb cabinets until all seven ingredients were gathered. They then laid them out from left to right in the precise order they had been listed on the list. The book found its place next to Hibana in range of her reading hand. "From left to right." Rukia smiled towards the unseeing woman. In turn she nodded and dismissed both of them.
--
"Taicho!" Rukia straightened her back, a pattern mimicked fully by Sayuri. Both ladies stood at full attention in front of their captain, Juushiro Ukitake. He looked them over with his charcoal colored eyes, examining their faces stained with grime--the sign of a job well done. Ukitake nodded. Nervously Sayuri fumbled with the sleeves of her uniform; somehow the lemon rinse was misplaced. Her plum colored eyes widened slightly with fear--she'd lost her captains' beloved lemon rinse. He tilted his head to the side, her wine occuli instantly following the movement of a few strands rippling in current with the calm river of his snow-like hair.
"Something the matter?"
Rukia dared to look her friend in the eye, noticing she had become unnerved. Then, with a triumphant grin, the obsidian-haired girl pulled the clear pear-shaped bottle from her sleeves... magically almost. "Aha!" Triumphant, she raised the bottle in the air for him to see. Ukitake smiled, raising his head in a pleased motion. He had been prodding Sayuri to visit her mother for quite some time now. He loved her recipe for lemon rinse--it was the only thing he would ever clean his hair with.
"I see you visited your mother," he spoke cheerfully, and walking with only the grace a captain of his standard could manage to get the bottle. The taller girl nodded and "mhmm-ed" softly. His dark eyes examined every inch of the bottle; took in its shape, size, quality, and so on. It seemed far too long he had been without the rinse.
"How's your training progressing, Kiyomoto-san?" Ever since Sayuri could remember, she had been training to fully master her Shikai. Her zanpakutou, Shirachi, hated her. It refused to communicate with the girl, but when she did, she would be taunting her poor success. Shirachi discouraged her, said the lowliest and base of things the girl had ever heard. It seemed the deranged soul slayer wanted her to give up being a Shinigami. It was a miracle on how she hadn't. Sayuri noted how the soul slayer had a bit of a sadistic streak with her. Almost everyone she knew was well aware of that fact. They were also well aware of how long and hard she trained by herself just to master two Shikai. No one really understood it either.
The tall onyx-haired girl smiled, her deep violet eyes arching in happiness, "I think I've finally mastered both Shikai."
Ukitake's sickly pale face illuminated instantly at hearing that; he would have called himself her greatest supporter considering he provided as much encouragement as possible. "That's wonderful!"
Both girls smiled jovially. The girl with the longest hair of the three couldn't help but place her hands behind her back in a bashful mannerism. Being complimented by someone she admired--loved--so much was one of the greatest respects she could ever get.
"Would you mind if I sat in on a training session?" Sayuri's violet hues vanished for a moment. Clearly she was surprised by his single question. Motivation was something she was all for on her captain's part, but... him actually being there?
Her stomach churned with a sudden bout of nausea. Her face painted itself a light hue of pink, and her lips drooped downward with the sudden statement. Her back lost its stiff pose, slouching forward. Her hand pressed against her stomach, rubbing soft circles to help calm it down, but to no avail as it seemed to make the issue worse. Instead Sayuri opted for resting her hand there instead.
Concerned with the sudden negative feeling from his subordinate, he inquired, "Are you all right Kiyomoto-san?" The girl shook her head fervently, her black tresses flailing from their hold into her eyes. She stopped shaking her head once she noticed how dizzy it made her. Her mind seemed to be spinning into another world, one which ran around her head at speeds her mind could not comprehend. Her eyes narrowed shut, barely able to register the voices that called out her name in a frenzied haze. Everything was becoming comprised of blurry streaks of light that failed to fully reach the retina in the back on her eyes. Each fictional pixel stretched before her form, forcing everything she was seeing into a helter-skelter vision.
Sayuri fainted.
Weeks flew by since that day; Sayuri started avoiding people. She avoided the man she dared to say she loved the most. He had caused her fainting spell, as she had never experienced something like that before. The lack of attention and overall presence of her friend surprised Rukia. Whenever she tried to meet her friend and start a conversation, she made some faulty excuse. Sayuri had never been one to disappoint others or her of all people, but now she seemed severely melancholic. The Kuchiki maiden could only guess she felt she had let herself down. Melancholia and Sayuri weren't the best of mixes, Rukia noted dimly. Her friend needed something to cheer her up. Perhaps she knew just the thing.
The sun greeted the morning with a pleasant burst of aerial light, illuminating the world below its station. Swallows and various other birds sang pleasant hymns of the coming day, while the Sakura blossoms fell from each holding case onto the ground in an explosion of serene fireworks. Peacefully, the short ebony-haired noble sat, her legs hanging of the edge of the landing. Swinging her lower extremities to and fro with either arm propping her up, she hummed a soft tune. It seemed as if she were waiting for someone to come and watch the peaceful sunrise with her. At that moment, someone came. He walked with his head high, charcoal eyes taking in the morning sun, and sterling silver hairs dancing along the wind's embrace. Rukia heard his soft footsteps, and turned to see her captain.
"Ukitake-taicho," Rukia acknowledged his presence. The squad captain merely nodded, brushing a few strewn strands of ashen hair from his visage. "I've recently seen Kiyomoto-san; she's training," the Kuchiki announced. Juushiro smiled, he had been waiting on a bit of information on his subordinate. She became so distant after her fainting spell, like she was ashamed of something. What that something might be he didn't know or particularly care to know. He just wanted to know the welfare of his squad member.
He smiled. "I would like to watch her, Kuchiki-san," he requested, addressing her formally. Rukia nodded, pushing herself upward to her full height. She frowned internally when she noticed her height deficit once more. She just had to be so short.
She motioned with her hand, taking off in the opposite direction her captain had come. Ukitake was more than happy to oblige.
She panted heavily, wincing when a bead of sweat fell into her wine orbs. She moved to wipe it away, clutching at the handle of her soul slayer tighter than she had. Sayuri had been practicing all morning. She knew well of what her weapon could do; however, there was a certain step she wanted to be able to efficiently skip over. Her defensive maneuver took far too long to materialize into the attack scheme. She wanted to be able to skip over her defensive stage straight to her attack. Those four petals wouldn't be the best thing for her in times where attacking was the most vital component of her skirmish.
Her hands bled into a pearlescent color, signifying her lack of blood in her hands from the tight grip. Her back was hunched over; bangs attached to the sweat on her forehead and obscuring her view. Her breathing came out in a heavy wheeze-like pattern. Her lungs were so hot in her body, lacking the air they needed. They burned with such ferocity, and Sayuri realized she would need a break sometime soon. Just one more time, though...
"Break, Shirachi!" The blade glowed with the efficiency of one thousand suns, causing her to narrow her eyes in pain. Four pieces simultaneously severed themselves from the hilt, which evanesced into the surrounding atmosphere. She watched as the katana, wakizashi, wooden staff, and the strange sai materialized in mid-air. She smiled to herself. One thing she had learned from her exercising since the wee hours of the morning was the fact that Spread allowed her weapon to collect the power of her enemies. It took her a while to notice, but if she failed to complete a Spread and went straight to Break, her Spiritual Pressure diminished with every second that went by. It didn't have a power supply it was naturally designed to process through, so it used the closest thing to it; Sayuri's life force. Of course, since Shirachi hated her wielder, it was wondered if the soul slayer purposely did that to spite Sayuri.
She could feel her life force draining bit by bit, but that wasn't going to hinder her the slightest. At least she would try not to let it hinder her progress. She took her usual proper-posed stance, arranging her arms in the proper positions. One by one, the numbers uttered through her mind. The weapons flew about, hitting their desired targets. She repeated the four-numbered sequence multiple times, trying to get used to the catch of her second Shikai. Whilst she did that, she failed to pick up on the two people nearing in on her, watching her every majestic movement.
Both Ukitake and Rukia noticed the slothful diminish in her spiritual pressure. Ukitake frowned, and Rukia prayed to the Prince of Soul Society that she knew what she was doing. She hadn't noticed the drop earlier, but now that she had returned sometime later, she definitely noticed.
"Absolutely wonderful," Ukitake called aloud in encouragement. The ebony haired girl's eyes nearly bulged out on hearing him. No, something bad was going to happen. Her concentration was loosening, her mind beginning to wonder on the possibilities on how he could have found her, why he was there, why he wanted to be there. She shook her head, degrading herself for losing concentration on something like this. It could almost be--
"He's watching you," a voice sang. She hadn't noticed until the searing pain speared through her central nervous system, forcing her had impaled her.
"Shirachi--?" Her mind raced off in different directions, trying to comprehend why something like this would happen; how it COULD happen. Her hands moved to clutch at the weapon forged into her stomach, clouding the dark gray of her shinigami uniform the darkest crimson she had ever seen. It was hardly distinguishable from the light black of her attire. More pain spiraled up her spine, wrecking havoc on her mind. Her body was on full alert, wondering what had happened; what went wrong.
The strong metallic taste of blood filled in her mouth, a thick liquid made her vomit all that she could manage to. The thick coppery scent took over her mind. Dribbles of blood drops stained the porcelain of her fair skin. They trailed in one smooth line, racing after the other to the bottom of her chin. She gagged yet again when the foul taste sprang back into her mouth coupled with the atrocious smell of vomit and the worst part: the taste of it. She couldn't hold her cookies anymore and released them once more onto the ground. Her hands clutched repeatedly at the entranceway of her wound, her fingers skimming over the silvery edges of the blade. She couldn't help but keep gagging and upchucking on the smell, taste, and feel of the blood and vomit in her mouth and throat.
"Sayuri!" they both called out to her, running as fast as they could. Of course the captain had made his way to her with Shunpo. Ukitake cradled her blood-covered form into him, carelessly watching as the blood stained his white captain overcoat. Sayuri's esophagus clenched once more, starting at the base and pushing the empty contents of blood and bile into her mouth.
With such large quantities at one time, she tossed vomited once more, this time onto hercaptain's attire. He didn't care though. Her mouth burned with the sensation and taste of the foul liquid bile. The salivation of it covered her mouth in thin layers, enabling only her taste buds to detect that.
Ukitake wrapped his one arm around her waist, watching the blade that protruded from her back carefully. He slipped his other appendage under her knees. Her arms hung below her form, unable to move from the sudden shock. Her eyes were half-lidded, watching the scene before her but failing to register and recognize it in her mind.
The last thing she saw was various strands of hair flying in her face, she didn't feel the wind his Shunpo created. But, she did feel quite cold...
Arrows and spears seemed to be piercing every cell of her stomach area, creating a domino effect of rippling soreness again and again into her bloodstream. She could do nothing but moan to express her physical agony. Sayuri initially tried to prop herself up by using both hands, but she failed to. It was then that she actually noticed where she was, the whitewashed walls giving the exact location away. Her hearing finally returned to her, only to understand that there was someone yelling foul obscenities at whomever came near. The voice sounded panicked, worried, demanding, and scared all at the same time. It was also vaguely familiar, but she hadn't the complete mental operation to pair that voice to the ones in her memories.
Her head lolled to the side, and her mind began to hurt from her trying to remember what might have caused her to be where she was. She didn't know anything. She did know that her abdomen hurt like as if a thousand flames of hell were burning inside her. She wanted to scream, but her throat was scratchy and dry. She needed some sort of liquid to sate the dehydration of her larynx.
Finally she remembered. She remembered training in the Sakura fields with Shirachi, trying to master passing straight to Break while skipping over Spread--
She also remembered that Ukitake was there watching her. She remembered losing her concentration; she remembered Shirachi's taunting singsong words. She also remembered being impaled by her own weapon. She could vaguely remember vomiting several times, including on something that was white--her captain's uniform! She wanted to sink into the futon beneath her and disappear. She wanted to weld her hands to her face to assure no one could look at the failure she had become. That's also when her memories worked again to compare the voice she heard. By that time she noticed there was two voices yelling and screaming their lungs out.
One was her mother, Hibana. She couldn't distinguish the words, but she could understand the thick layers of fear, panic, and worry underlying her voice. The second voice was home to none other than her closest friend, Rukia Kuchiki. Rukia's voice mimicked Hibana's on a much smaller scale. She was a noble, taught to contain her emotions. Finally she noticed a third screaming voice in the fray. It took her quite some time to compare the dark and panicked voice, but she identified it. It was her older twin sister, Shizuka. It startled Sayuri on many different levels. Her sister was very soft spoken, and passive. Yet here she was entirely positive the girl was one of the screaming trio outside her door.
Sayuri swallowed hard, trying to get her saliva to satiate her dry windpipe and esophagus. The obnoxiously loud voices swarmed in her mind, spinning her thoughts out of control once again. She forced herself to bare the pain as she pushed herself downward on the bed beneath her. She needed all the rest she could get.
Sayuri stared at the three people in her infirmary room. There was the blind woman known to many as Hibana, but to her as her mother. There was also the petite brunette; her hair fell to her shoulders in length. It was obviously layered as the ends flared out from her head. Her wine colored eyes were watery, obviously very worried over her younger twin. Sayuri smiled at her sister to ease her worrying. Hibana, unfortunately, could not see this. Rukia stared solemnly at her friend, worried about her condition.
It had been about two months since the accident, but she never failed to visit her friend once day. Of course there was this one day that her elder brother Byakuya had demanded that she start answering her calls for the Hollows instead of forcing the ever charismatic Ichigo to do it, but that was in the past.
The dark brunette with pearlescent eyes had an herbal mixture remedy in her hands, waiting for her daughter to give the initiative. It would help in developing the cicatrix faster, but there would also be a tiny bit more pain than the dull twinge in her abdomen. The obsidian reaper wasn't too enthusiastic about feeling more pain, firmly declaring she had felt enough to last her a week or so.
"Mother, Shizuka, may I speak to Kuchiki-san alone?" The mother-and-daughter duo looked to each other, nodded, and then left the room. Of course Shizuka held her mother's hand and led the blind woman to the doorway. Once they were sure to be out of range, Sayuri leaned her head down at Rukia, ignoring her hair passing into her vision range, and gave her a knowing look. "Just say it," she spoke.
Rukia looked at her friend incredulously and asked, "What could I have to say?" Sayuri's gaze did not lighten up one bit. The shorter female huffed, "I know that something's been bothering you, Sayuri. However, from past experiences, I've noticed that you clam up when you're like this; I just want to know what's wrong." Sayuri's eyes darted to the floor of the room, musing over her friend's words. She had a very good point, something was bothering her, and she would be more than happy to say this aloud. Sayuri raised her head, staring straight into the noble's own eyes.
"If there was a single day I could live, a single breath I could take... I'd give it all for him," she murmured, her pale pink lips forming each and every word slowly, as if she had thought of them many times but never said them until now. "I thought I felt real pain once," she continued, "but I realized that I know nothing compared to the torment he feels every second of his life. I never will. He's dying, Rukia. If there's anything I can give him--including my own life--I'll do it." Rukia blinked in surprise. Was this Sayuri actually talking about her feelings for their captain? Normally she shied away from this subject, one that only Rukia brought up.
"Until then, I will find that single breath, that single day..." she stared out the window into the blue skies of the Seireitei. Her eyes glossed over with a feeling of platonic happiness, and she smiled. Of course it was empty, but Rukia understood. Her cheeks turned a light shade of cherry, and one single tear fell from her eyes. "Can you request his presence for me? I have something I would like from him," Rukia nodded while standing to her full height.
"Assuming he's in the vicinity, of course--if not I'll personally retrieve him." The short girl smiled to encourage her friend to get well, to feel better. Rukia slid the door open, and stopped midway. A minute stretch and eager looking showed that the Devil himself was outside the door. "Ukitake-taicho, I was just looking for you!" Rukia grinned. Sayuri's breath hitched in her throat. This was it, the moment she would actually act out on a friend's suggestion.
The Kuchiki heiress ushered her captain into the room, pushing him down into her previous occupied seat before skipping out the room. Perhaps her friend would confess her undying love for him, then he would do the same, and everything ended happily. She shut the door, and sneakily perched herself on the wall with her ear against it.
"What is it?" Sayuri looked away from her captain, the single object of her affections.
"...I would like to request a division transfer," she whispered, still looking away from Ukitake. His charcoal eyes widened in revelation, as well as Rukia's. No, this wasn't what she thought would happen--Sayuri wasn't too keen on taking the advice of others. She preferred to be independent, but all logic she knew about her friend had simply vanished starting on this very day.
"W-what? Why," he stuttered out. Sayuri still refused to look at him--to speak to him. It would only make this so much harder than it had to be. "Is this about vomiting on my captain's overcoat? 'Cause you know that--"
"No, I don't really know things like that." She dared to look him in the eyes. She could just feel the bubble of need growing in her chest. She needed to tell him how she felt, the real reason why she wanted to be in a different division. Her white-haired captain frowned at her. She couldn't bear to watch with her own eyes.
"Could you at least tell me why?" His peering gaze prodded her skin, sending shivers down her spine. Ukitake looked straight into her eyes for something that could at least give him a clue. However her own failed to meet his. She failed to stare him in the eye for the honesty of her request. He had to understand how hard this was for her; it was breaking her pride and was even an almost heartbreaking experience. The idea was that if she got transferred, she wouldn't see him nearly as often, her heart could rest in peace and heal from the fatal wound it obtained through time.
"You really want to know why?" Her captain nodded. "It's because... I ...really like you, Ukitake-taicho," Interestingly enough, that had been easy for her to say. She smiled to herself for saying it so effortlessly. Her happiness and pride soared once more, causing her to bite her bottom lip habitually. "More than any subordinate should." She finished explaining herself. Her violet occuli glinted with happiness and relief upon saying that. She kept it held inside her for so long, it just took a load off her shoulders for saying it. Now that he was aware of her feelings, she could move on with her life whether he returned or rejected her feelings. She could feel the cracks in her broken heart start to heal, start to shrink back into the hole that was the center of it. In pure happiness, she started crying.
Ukitake looked on his subordinate with confusion; he honestly didn't know how he felt about her. He didn't know if he would be capable of returning her feelings or not. His mind was spinning in so many different directions with so many answers he could give her. But because he didn't know how he truly felt, the only thing he could do was offer his deepest apologies until he did. There wasn't enough time for him to mull over and come to a conclusion. He just... couldn't answer her. He reached out to rub her shoulders gently, watching that spark of hope in her eyes evanesce. "I'm... sorry," he offered his sympathy towards her, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her. If he couldn't love her just for that moment, he would at least allow her a silent reprieve from everything he might have caused her in her life.
Sayuri choked on her own sobs her larynx tightening painfully. So... he had rejected her. It was something she had expected, but that felt like she should be happy over it. She wanted to cry, to hide her face, to never look at him again because of those two words. She just couldn't help but feel euphoric at the one single moment in her life where every problem, memory, or anything that reminded her of the dull metaphysical aching of her heart. "So, that's it?"
He shook his head, strands of white silk caressing over her face. She wanted to comb her fingers through them, to whisper sweet nothings in his ears and to hear them in return, to feel his breath careening over the shell of her ear...
"I'm just...confused." For the single instance in her life, she smiled. Despite the tears, the sobs, and the heartache of past, everything was finally Laid to Rest.
[1 This is actually kind of a pun. I read in the Shonen Jump Nihongo Lessons, that as America's unlucky number is thirteen, Japan's are four and nine. (Ironically the two numbers add up to thirteen.) The Japanese word for four--shi--is basically the exact same word for death--also shi. The word for nine--kyu--is close to the Japanese word for suffering--ku. The words are one to four in Japanese; the idea is that on four--or shi--the Hollow is dead. Meh... -Shrugs.-
This isn't my best writing, but it isn't my worst. I wrote it for a friend so very close to me that I call her my wifey. She's madly in love with Ukitake and finds it depressing for the lack of fan fictions about just him. So I thought I would give it a shot.
You don't have to review, but it would be very nice. -Smiles.-
Mad March Hare