Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ She Will Be Loved ❯ Chapter 7 ( Chapter 7 )

She Will Be Loved

 

By Tituba

 

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.

 

(A/N: This chapter update is for everyone who decided not to watch the Super Bowl, football confuses me, but whatever, people who understand it like watching it. Oh well.

 

Also, I was really excited for all of the reviews I received for the last chapter. I just really hope that some people who are starting to get slightly irritated by the direction of my story won't stop reading. PLEASE keep reading! This is IchiRuki and in my stories Rukia will never, never, never ever think of killing herself. P.S. Kaien shows up in Chapter 8!)

 

I hope you like this new chapter, please tell me what you think, feel free to vent as well. Hugs and kisses.)

 

 

 

 

Chapter 7

 

She lurched forward and propelled herself into her house. Her body was dripping wet with water and tears. She let loose another sob as she shivered on the floor mat. She pressed her hands to her hot eyes and trembled again. She couldn't seem to stop crying. Her body was cold and her mind was screaming in pain.

 

“Kuchiki-san?” It was Haji, he appeared near the front of the foyer and his look of straight calm immediately turned into one of shock and worry.

 

Rukia sobbed again and rushed past Haji. He called after her again but she barreled past him. She choked in her throat and shook, she wasn't sure if it was from the cold water sopping through her clothes or the pain and terror she felt inside of her. She grappled for the knob on her door and swung it open. Her body threw itself on the top of her fluffy mattress, but not before locking the door solidly behind her. Her tiny arms wrapped around her pillows and she pressed her face further into them.

 

The sobbing continued for so long. She thought she heard Haji knock on the door a couple of times and call for her but she didn't answer. She couldn't answer.

 

She didn't know how long she was atop her bed, crying into her pillows, but sooner or later, the tears stopped flowing, leaving her eyes dried and cracked. Her mouth was thick and cottony and her head was dull with aching.

 

The tears were over. The pain had just begun.

 

She sat silently and through her hazy eyes saw the shades of sunlight as the day drew to a close. The majestic blues dancing across her carpet flowed effortlessly into happy oranges tinged with flowering pink. Her eyes watched blandly as the orange was later over-taken by a darker, richer color of ginger, it was so deep it was nearly red. Then finally, the dark hues of blue and the scintillating shades of violet. Blackness in the clouded and raining night. It was still pouring. She could hear it outside her window. The branches of the tree Ichigo used so often were pounding against her window. The sound used to scare her when she was smaller, but it didn't any longer. It was just a tree.

 

She heard a knock on her door and didn't answer. It must have been Haji. It was at least the twentieth time he had knocked. She knew that her heart should have warmed at the notion that he was worried about her. But it couldn't, she couldn't.

 

“Kuchiki-san,” he said, his voice was muffled through the door. “I called your brother. He told me what happened.”

 

Rukia squeezed her eyes shut and let out a dry sob onto her pillow.

 

There was a tiny clattering of plates outside her door and another sigh, “There is a sandwich out here for you, if you get hungry.” He paused and Rukia sniffled in the bed. She wasn't hungry. She felt like she'd never be hungry again.

 

“Your friends were also here.” He said.

 

Her heart burned anew. It was as though the same rusty knife that had stabbed her repeatedly for Hisana's loss was taking up its position once more. It must have liked to see her bleed.

 

“They wanted to see you but I said you were indisposed.”

 

Were they angry? Were they mad at the actions she had taken with Ichigo? How did Orihime look? Was her face a mix of her regular confusion with a new dash of simmering anger? Did Ishida have that calculating expression that made him look thoughtful, yet severe? Was Chad soaked to the bone because no one could hold the umbrella high enough for him? Was Keigo doing a dance in the rain? Was Ichigo standing there? Was he worried about her? Did he insist to see her? Was he silent?

 

“They seemed quite… concerned.”

 

Concerned that she had lost her mind. Concerned that she had gone completely crazy. Concerned that she harbored deeper feelings for Ichigo. Concerned that she would ruin Orihime's perfect life. Concerned that her image might be tarnished. Concerned that they might carry a stigma should they associate themselves with her. Concerned that she now bore the scarlet letter of an outcast.

 

“Should you need me… at any point in the night,” he murmured quietly, “I'll be within my residence.”

 

Rukia swallowed dryly and pressed her face into her pillows.

 

The pain of the day, the drowsiness of hurt, and the altogether aching of her heart made her lids heavy. She didn't know how she was possibly able to fall asleep. Everything about her body just seemed so heavy. She didn't know how to explain it. The weight of everything… of Hisana, of Ichigo, of her friends… it just all seemed to be pressing down upon her. She could barely breathe with such a burden on top of her heart.

 

She didn't know how she fell asleep. Everything was just throbbing. Everything hurt. She was in so much pain.

 

The bike swerved to the side of the road and Rukia pitched forward, her tiny body flying through the air and landing on the black asphalt. Hard.

 

The tears were immediate to the eight year olds eyes. Her hands were bloody with scrapes and her knees were stinging as though bitten by a dozen bees. There was a person running towards her though all that mess. As Rukia rocked back and forth on the ground, hugging her small body close, Hisana ran towards her.

 

Her warm hand pressed against her face and she began to whisper soothing words. “It will be okay… just a scratch… you'll be fine…”

 

Rukia kept on crying even as her big sister bent to kiss her little knees and her tiny palms. As Hisana stroked her fingers against Rukia's bruised skin the tears became less insistent, the pain less acute. She began to sniffle and whine. Her eyes welling a bit but nothing dripped down.

 

Hisana bent towards her, her lithe body crouched on the ground, her softly smiling face right in front of Rukia.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Rukia's bottom lip pulled out into a pout and she shook her head.

 

“It hurts, doesn't it?”

 

The bottom lip came out even more and began to quiver. She nodded.

 

“It'll be okay in a little while. And when it's all better, we'll try again.”

 

Rukia's head shook vehemently, her hair swooshing in front of her bruised face. “I don't want to try again! It'll hurt again! I want my training wheels back on!”

 

Hisana smiled gently at her. “Do you want Ichigo to keep making fun of you when he sees you still have your training wheels?”

 

She sniffled again and frowned a bit. “…No…”

 

“Do you want to learn to ride without them?”

 

Hesitation was once again prevalent. “…Yes…”

 

“Then honey, you're going to have to try again.” Hisana giggled gently and passed her thumb under Rukia's eye to catch a wayward tear.

 

“But Hisana…” she bit her lip and trembled, “It'll hurt!”

 

Her sister nodded wisely, “But that's why we get back up and keep on trying.”

 

Rukia sniffled once again. “But I don't want to…”

 

Hisana stood then bent to pick up tiny Rukia from the ground. “That's part of life Rukia.” She started to walk back towards the tiny bike, sans training wheels, and reached down to pick it up as well. “We fall down… and we get right back up again.”

 

Rukia rested her head on Hisana's shoulder. “Really?”

 

“Yep.” Hisana kissed her forehead. “Really.”

 

Rukia chewed on her bottom lip for a minute and nodded slowly. Her legs kicked a bit and her sister let her down slowly. She stood near the bicycle for a moment before taking in a deep breath and looking up at Hisana. “Okay… I'm ready.”

 

Hisana smiled broadly. “Alright.”

 

Rukia frowned immediately and pointed an accusing finger at her sister, “Just as long as you don't let go until I tell you to.”

 

Tap.

 

Hisana laughed lightly and shook her head. “Rukia, I don't have the strength to chase you all the way down the block.”

 

Tap.

 

She rushed forward and tickled Rukia until the remaining tears of pain were replaced with tears of laughter and joy.

 

Tap.

 

“Let's go.”

 

Rukia's eyes jerked open. She groaned and pressed a cooled hand to her hot forehead. Her head was throbbing in warm and unwelcome pain. Her eyes were crusted with tears and crimson rims. Her cheeks were red and her nose was swollen. She groaned slightly and shook her head as she sat up on her bed, her legs twisting under her.

 

She swiveled her head around as she ran a hand through her rumpled hair. The glowing clock on the wall blinked the time and she squinted at it, sighing heavily when she saw it was already half past one in the morning.

 

Tap.

 

Rukia's ears perked up in attention. She frowned a bit and moved her hand through her hair once again. She felt so tired.

 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

 

It wasn't raining outside anymore, that she heard as she rose slowly from her bed. The sheets crinkled under her slight weight and she groaned at the feeling of her feet hitting the ground. Her bones seemed to moan at the basic motions her body was undergoing.

 

Tap. Tap tap tap.

 

“Hey.”

 

Rukia's head stilled in the darkness of the room. Her practically dead heart twanged once more in agony and she pressed a small hand to her chest, wondering how much pain the poor muscle could take in.

 

Her legs moved her mechanically from the bed. She slumped her shoulders and gracelessly tread to her window. She could hear the tapping becoming more insistent. She could see his bright orange hair against the blackness of the sky and the milky light of the moon.

 

She sat on the edge of her window seat and set her hands into her lap. Ichigo was leaning on the tree branch outside the paned glass. She made no move to remove the latch from the window. Her body was still, her heart was throbbing, her mind was aching.

 

“Hey,” he said through the window. His voice was muffled. “Open the window.”

 

She sat there. She didn't even look up at him.

 

“I…” he continued, “I need you to… can you… talk?”

 

The answer was no. Just no. She couldn't do this anymore. She didn't want to do this anymore. Her body was tired of being used and her mind was tired of being tortured and her eyes were tired of weeping. She was just… tired.

 

She reached her hand up just a bit and grasped the heavy curtains. Using what strength she had left in her weak body she tugged them shut, ignoring the constant tapping, ignoring the words coming from his lips, ignoring everything.

 

She didn't even look into at him as she finally pulled the curtains shut.

 

“Hey!” The tapping continued. Rukia simply sat at the window seat for a few moments, her body shaking quietly. “Hey! Please, can you just… Rukia!”

 

A small sob escaped Rukia the minute he said her name. It was the first time he had ever said it when he came. But now… in such a time of desperation and hurt… she couldn't bear to hear her very own name rolling off of his lips. She had wanted it for so long and now… and now… she likened it to poison.

 

He kept on tapping, even knocking forcefully once in a while. However he would quiet soon and resumed tapping, he knew that he needed to by soft, Haji had ears like a hawk and would definitely hear him if he were any louder.

 

Rukia sat there for the longest time. Her body was still and her mind was calmly silent. She just sat. Staring off into space and listening to the gentle ticking of Ichigo's finger against the glass. He spoke her name frequently. Telling her to open please. He needed her. He needed to know what was going on. Open… please.

 

So now he needed an explanation? How long did he think she would continue the façade of being the complacent whore? How long did he think she would confine herself to her heart and slowly bleed for him? How long did he think she could take it—a few more months? A year? How long did he think she would go around school acting so happy and content when each time she saw him with Orihime she wanted to scream? How long had she waited for him to want to talk to her? How long had she wanted to kiss him? It seemed like infinity.

 

Yet now, all that she wanted was inconsequential. It didn't matter. She couldn't do it any longer.

 

She slowly moved from the window seat and crawled back towards her bed. Ichigo must have continued tapping for at least an hour. It was almost endearing how long he kept it up.

 

Almost. She could sense the desperation in his voice and in his knocks. She knew that he needed her. She knew that she had never denied him. She knew that he might crumble if he didn't have her.

 

She also knew that if he did she would die just a little more.

 

She must have fallen asleep to it, his tapping and knocking and pounding. The sounds were so irregular that they were almost melodious; it was simply rocking her to sleep.

 

She didn't know when he left.

 

When she awoke early in the morning her entire body felt creaky and old. She stumbled into her nearby shower and slowly stripped away her clothes. Her clothes were crinkled and worn and her body was aching and lugubrious.

 

She twisted her wrist gently and allowed the heated water to shoot from the tap. Her hand was soaked within a moment and the air around her moistened with humidity. Her body ran with water the moment her tiny feet stepped inside. Her hair lay plastered on her forehead and she slowly shook her face before the showerhead. The hot water scalded her eyes and seemed to flush away any of the stickiness and irritation of the morning. She gently lathered the soap and ran it over her nerve-less body. She didn't seem to feel anything except the heat. The hot. The water pouring down in droves to soothe her pained skin.

 

She exited and slowly wrapped a pristine towel around her body. Her pale skin glowered pink in the steam and her breathing grew short in the heat. She ran a delicate hand through her wet hair and pushed away the piece that was forever lying in the middle of her forehead. It would go back, she knew, but not now.

 

She clung to her towel with one hand and with the other wiped away the fog on the mirror. Azure eyes stared into one another. The person's in the mirror were red and encircled with deep gashes of blue. Her nose was mottled crimson and fanned out into hollowed cheeks. A thin neck led down to frail shoulders and she traced her collar bone lightly with her eyes. She sighed softly and allowed the mirror to fog once again.

 

She needed to leave. She needed to get away. Not indefinitely, just for a little while. She needed to go to a place that would not judge her. A place that would not know her as the solemn and silent individual constantly occupying school days with witless chatter and hollow words. She needed to go to a place that knew her from summers long ago. That knew her as the happy child obsessed with the beauty of butterflies or the happiness of rabbits. A place where her crude drawings used to hang with pride on the refrigerator. A place of delight. A place where, each time she thought of it, a small smile would come to her face.

 

Her mind buzzed as she thought about her choices.

 

She couldn't go to Nii-sama. Her head bowed and she felt another twang inside of her chest. He was probably grieving beyond belief. Yet… he still had not told her. He had not allowed her to go to her own sister's funeral. She would need time to be able to forgive him for such an atrocity. Not to mention the main reason he probably hadn't let her attend the funeral was because he hadn't wanted to disrupt her education. Her mouth twisted into a bitter smirk and she coughed. Nii-sama… she couldn't go to him. She needed somewhere else.

 

She could not go to the Kurosaki household. There were too many pained memories associated with such a place. It was also too close. Who knew when she would run into Ichigo again? She wanted somewhere far… far… far away. Somewhere that would be free of such things.

 

She pressed a hand to the front of the counter and breathed in the heated air once more.

 

Hiroshima.

 

To where her most beloved mentor lived. To where he had moved when he was diagnosed with his illness. To where he lived with his wife and son. To where she used to visit when she was younger. To where she learned the histories of her people and the terrors of world power. To where she would be able to escape Ichigo. To where she would be able to escape, just for a little bit, the suffering of her daily life. To where sanity lay in wait.

 

To where she may be safe.

 

She exited the bathroom quickly, her body moving swiftly from the humid room to the one filled with chill. She raced to her closet and slowly threw on a light dress with fabric made for traveling. Her eyes darted over to the clock and she nodded, it was only a little after four. She silently thanked her mind for allowing her only a few hours of sleep. She needed to rise before Haji. She needed to get out of here quickly.

 

As soon as she was dressed and dried her hands busied themselves by digging into her closet once again, this time, for her suitcase. She chose the smaller, leather, tote and tossed it onto the bed. Her hands scurried around her dresser and her closet, throwing random items into the tote. Her mind was buzzing and her breathing was quick. In her frenzy she didn't even mind that the clothes Haji pressed so diligently would wrinkle within a few moments. She filled the bag to the brim and tried to take deeper, steadying breaths, but couldn't. She simply couldn't.

 

She dove next to the porcelain rabbit bank sitting on the top of her dresser. She handled it carefully and pulled down the small tab on the underbelly. Digging her fingers inside, she pulled out bill after bill of twenties, fifties, and the occasional one hundred. It was money she had gotten from her brothers business partners for birthdays and holidays, they were always eager to gain friends among people like Byakuya, and charming his younger sister was one of the ways they tried to get in his favor. She had never used the money before. She had never felt comfortable with being a liability and a way for people to brown-nose their way to her brother. But now she didn't care.

 

She didn't know how much the small fortune was but she knew that it would keep her comfortable for weeks if she wanted. She finally dashed to the side of the room and slipped on a pair of her most comfortable shoes. She grabbed the tote and made her way towards the door.

 

The moment she opened the oaken structure her foot tapped against something. She glanced down and felt a tiny lump rise in her throat. The sandwich that Haji had left her yesterday was still there, wrapped in a tiny plastic sheet to prevent spoilage; it was accompanied by an apple and a small salad. Rukia's lips twisted into a tiny smile and she bent down to pick up the sandwich and the apple. She wasn't even remotely hungry now, but she knew that by the time she got to Hiroshima she would be famished. Her mind raced as she tiptoed down the steps and quietly slipped into the kitchen. Haji ate his breakfast here each morning.

 

She pulled down a little notepad and pen. In her elegant handwriting she penned:

 

Dear Haji,

 

Please don't worry. I'm going to Hiroshima to be with Uncle Jushiro and his family. I won't be gone long, maybe a week. I just need some time away from everything.

 

Yours,

 

Rukia.

 

Rukia placed the note beneath the basket of fruit and prayed that he found it before he noticed she was gone. But she knew Haji. He wouldn't worry just so long as she was safe. Haji trusted her and she knew that he, more than anyone else, knew that she needed to go to a place that she knew, that she loved, and that had people she trusted.

 

Rukia silently slid out the door and began down the walkway.