heartlines [3 : Ukitake Jushiro]

"it's not what you said, it’s what you’ve done."

　

　

She had always been a sensitive thing and it was not unusual to see her subdued, but sat curled, her chin on her knees, beside a parched stream was something Ukitake had ever seen before. He followed her to this hollow and dry stream for his feet had wanted him to, careful of her privacy — his dry coughs muffled the best he could manage — and not unaware of the voice telling him to head back and let the life in her face return of its own accord.

Surely, he’d be scolded when he returned for leaving his bed — another painful hack only strengthened the thought — but he’d already come into Rukongai behind her, and, regarding his principles, he couldn’t turn his back on her now.

There was a little wetness in the muddy bed of the stream which she looked down on, he could see it even from a distance behind her, but as it snaked beneath the undergrowth and passed old, lively trees, forming a small path back to Sereitei, it became dry again. Once, Ukitake recalled, there were a few small fish and tadpoles here, the chattering water a comfort as it flowed. Should she see it, hear it, she would smile.

The splashes of orange in the sky and long, reaching shadows urged him to go to her. Upon reaching her, he sat on the grass, legs folded and haori billowing wide behind him.

“Captain?” Her eyes saw little, though they were direct upon him, hindered by a haze of thought, of contemplation — and they averted as she spoke. “Why’re you here?”

“Hm. There’s a story about this stream,” he said. “Once, the souls of this district became thirsty and greedy and drunk from the stream until it became dry. They say that it won’t flow again until the greed of this district is replaced entirely by happiness and kindness.”

She turned to him, not without a measure of cynicism. “You believe that?”

“Look down there,”

“At?”

“There’s more water flowing now than when you first arrived.” She did look, lead to believe that the dribble of water she had once overlooked was new, and she felt the ease of a natural smile come to her. The warmth of the wide hand placed upon her head, the gentle ruffling of hair, was welcomed. “You’re appreciated, even by the stream.”

It’s a story she had heard long before Ukitake had taken to sharing it with her, and one she had not once believed, but it was perhaps the softness of his tone, the smile that touched his lips, or the illness that rattled through his lungs. Somehow, it seemed real when he told her, and that fallacy was welcomed, too.