Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Where Cherry Blossoms Fall ❯ Chapter Four ( Chapter 4 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Where Cherry Blossoms Fall
Chapter Four:

Sipping from a cup of sake the man peered down at his latest creation, the makings of a new gigai the world had yet to see.
It was pure art, spread out in several parts on the small table before him, a hand here, a foot there. Musculature draped like red ribbon around a skeletal frame. So lifelike, real. So real in fact that it was already beginning to closely resemble the body of a former colleague. Odd, that. It almost seemed to have developed its own personality...
The man smiled proudly at the culmination of a life's work, holding the macabre doll out at arms length before he put the skin on. This gigai was completely able to withstand extended stays in the Human Realm. Capable of blending a Shinigami in flawlessly amongst humans. Capable of perfection.
Kisuke Urahara had a feeling such a thing would be necessary very soon. With careful stitches, the man did up one length of arm in flesh.
The sound of the shop's bell sounded just as Kisuke adjusted his striped hat. A smile tugged at his lip. Very, very soon indeed.
"Ah, Captain, thought you might stop by. Go ahead and take a seat. Perhaps I'll get Ururu to fetch some tea?"
Byakuya tensed for a fraction of a moment, annoyed at the other man's unnerving sense of prediction and his idle chatter. The shop owner hadn't turned to show his respect at all, rather indicated with a quick hand the empty spot at the table. Much too busy to be distracted.
Keeping all trace of emotion from his voice, Byakuya spoke. He hadn't moved from the door frame despite the other man's enthusiastic offer.
"I was led to believe your...expertise...in the Human Realm would be capable of assisting me. Was I wrong to assume this?"
Urahara put down his masterpiece, almost finished now, and turned toward the man blocking the light in his doorway. "Depends on what you're looking to achieve."
There was an underlining tone coloring the unkempt man's words, humor forever adding a smile to his face. Even under that ridiculous hat and those long unruly bangs Byakuya could see the Devil at play with his patience. Those grey eyes danced and danced.
Mischief purred, "Perhaps you're planning to visit the local temples? Indeed, I hear the festivals this time of year are breathtaking..."
Byakuya looked down in poorly masked disdain. He remained relatively cool, Urahara thought, despite his attempts to arouse a little fun.
"Do not mistake me, Urahara Kisuke. The only reason I've come is due to your recent help in matters concerning Soul Society; my gratitude does not extend to friendship of any kind."
All right, Hat-and-Clogs thought, turning down his special brand of charm. "So what can I help you with today, Captain?"
Byakuya had what most would call a uncomfortable moment, but on the man seemed more like a simple pause in resolve. He didn't seem capable of looking at this ridiculous man while he softly replied, "I am in need of a gigai."
"You've come to the right place." That devious pirate smile spread on his pale face like a crack into Hell. "Have a seat, Captain; I'm almost finished."

Several hours later, under a canopy of ginko and maple, Byakuya sat unseen near the stonework of Hisakawa Shrine. He contemplated his life and the actions leading up to this moment. It was a chore he very seldom did but one he couldn't avoid at this impasse.
He had his gigai. He had every reason to meet the woman sweeping the courtyard below.
So then what was the problem?
The man watched her push pink sakura blossoms together into a pile as more floated around her. So futile, he thought. Why spend time doing something that in moments would be undone?
And then a gentle breeze struck her hair and he knew. The beauty of that simple gesture stole his breath.
He'd indulge her anything if only to see her like this. The very image of his Hisana, every detail there as if borne from a dream. It was incredibly unnerving. Here was a woman so familiar, so devastatingly imprinted into his mind and soul, and yet...so incredibly different than the women he once knew. A miko outfit, red hakama. Priestess clothing. Simple, raw silk that was low grade if that. So unlike the delicate silk Hisana would wear.
And she did chores, something he'd never require of his wife.
The truth hit Byakuya like ice water to an empty stomach. Here was the woman he'd been longing for these last fifty years, but now she carried with her a whole new set of memories. A new personality. He didn't even know what her name was! How could he face that?
She might reject him. Or worse, she might be already claimed. The weight of that settled heavily on his shoulders.
His eyes caressed this woman's body with a hunger he hadn't anticipated. How he missed her, his Hisana. How crushed he'd be if this new woman could not be her again. Fear crept up into his pores, ran cold down his spine.
Here on this hill Byakuya could watch her forever, keep the joy of this moment pure, unadulterated. Should he really risk everything by speaking to her? Risk waking from a beautiful dream?

Sakura finished up, depositing her broom in an alcove near the shrine's living quarters and office. Why her uncle insisted on sweeping anything during the height of the season she would never know. In truth she only did it to get away for awhile, to be free of her living quarters and the whispered conversations of the other miko, but the woman enjoyed the work in its own way. Enjoyed the pink blooms. Enjoyed the fresh air.
A few patrons had finally made the long pilgrimage to the shrine, bowing to her quickly as they walked past. The priestess attire demanded respect from them despite their fear. She bowed back, wincing as her hip throbbed with pain. The mystery of that and waking in the tea house had still not been solved, but perhaps it was best to move forward. Nothing ever came from dwelling on the past.
"Welcome," Sakura greeted accordingly. "Thank you for coming."
The woman crossed the courtyard toward the purification house. Her bucket and rag were caged beneath a loose board near the base, somewhere out of the way, somewhere Uncle Tetsuno wouldn't notice.
She bowed to a passing couple. It was then she noticed the man watching her.
The first thing she could think of was how familiar he seemed, how her pulse sped up slightly when their eyes met. Even from such a distance, with the worshippers drifting  between them like a river, Sakura felt the pull of his gaze. He looked so lost and helpless in that moment. It broke her heart.
He wore the nondescript clothing of any young man in Karakura Town; simple t-shirt, simple pants. Unremarkable shoes.
But something about the silver adorning his hair and those dark penetrating eyes stuck a cord. His gaze searched her, seared into her soul.
Suddenly a small old woman bumped into Sakura's arm by accident. She looked down as the flustered woman threw a quick apology, fumbling over her luck charms.
"No, it's alright," the priestess assured her. A moment's distraction. A breath of time.
Sakura returned her gaze to where the man had been and frowned. She discretely searched the path toward the oratory and the main shrine house beyond that. Her eyes swept the path which led back through the Torii gates and down the mountain.
He was gone. Could he have been just another spirit?
The wind decided to blow at that moment, tossing her hair about her face. But the tell-tale chill she usually felt was gone, replaced by a flowering warmth hidden deep in her heart. A feeling she couldn't quite name overcame her. Was it anticipation?
Standing there, a stone in the sea of pilgrimages, Sakura knew in her heart she'd meet him again.

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