Day 22 of Ichiruki month 2020
Summary: What are you babbling about?" His voice is gruff, but the lines on his face soften as he sets the birthday cake to her eye-level, "Make a wish, midget!"
Rukia doesn't have much fond memories of her childhood. On the streets of Inuzuri, no child stays a child for long. Childhood innocence forfeited for the sake of a full belly and warm shelter. The shame of having to beg, lie, borrow and steal fades to a distant memory as the hunger takes over and it becomes a necessity to survive by any means necessary.
Her earliest memories of those days strewn by the woes of hunger and cold are criss-crossed with those of her quick feet and equally nimble fingers; doing whatever it takes to keep herself and later, Renji and their little ragtag group alive.
Forced to grow up to the harsh realities of the world too quickly, there is a contradiction of scorn and longing in the softness of things- of pretty things, shiny baubles and colourful dresses. It doesn't stop just because she's been adopted into a noble house and made to act like a lady. The Kuchiki is a heavy name and she bears it staunchly and unflinchingly, showing no weakness- no fear; because in the eyes of Soul Society- she is more than her own person, she is a representative of her clan and poor conduct from her reflects badly on the clan.
Guiltily, she takes advantage of her anonymity in the Living World- the sheer freedom that grows on her like wings on a bird- to indulge. Free from scrutiny and admonishments from her peers, she looks to certain amusements and events with something that borders on childlike wonder. It goes beyond her fascination with juice boxes and Chappy-themed merchandise.
It's the unbridled joy of freedom to express her emotions, of the warmth of friendship, of the acknowledgement of her as an individual- of personhood.
Deep down inside, Rukia thinks- almost selfishly, how wonderful it would be free—how being stripped of her powers and rendered weak as a human can't possibly be so bad—
She leaps off her perch on the tree, balancing precariously on the balls of her feet as she lands- with not a hair out of place.
These thoughts are dangerous. She glances at her hands- callused from the grip of a sword, stained from the blood of innocents. She is a Shinigami- a soldier through and through; soldiers don't have the luxury of wishing of what could have been as opposed to what there is.
A soldier doesn't think or march to the beat of her own drum- Soul Society would be up in flames, disorder rampant!
No, a soldier follows orders.
And that's all there is to it, she thinks.
Yet despite her best efforts, these thoughts linger- in the hollow of her smiles when she feigns politeness, in her faraway stare as she realizes that she's getting too attached to her human companions.
There's Inoue-san— Orihime with her generous heart, so capable of giving and warmth.
Chad- or rather Sado-kun, a man of few words yet a heart of pure gold and holds true to his creed to looking after and fending those who cannot do so for themselves.
Ishida-san- Uryuu, the Quincy, a sworn enemy of Shinigamis but is there truly a need for such divide, could there be a mistake somewhere in their records?
And finally, there's Ichigo.
Ichigo with his hair dipped in the colour of the sun and like it every bit as brave and bright, his fierce heart, so full of anger and grief, so young and reckless—
She almost jumps, hands reaching for the hilt of her blade until she sees the bright party hats, beaming smiles and colourful streams and confetti from the party poppers.
When did they have the time to set this up? She was only gone for barely a minute to the toilet.
Rukia's surprise is slight- barely there in the widening of her mouth, her eyes—
Ichigo steps forward, flicking at her forehead, stopping the mad tumble of words.
"What are you babbling about?" His voice is gruff, but the lines on his face soften as he sets the birthday cake to her eye-level, "Make a wish, midget!"
The cake is from a nearby bakery. Orihime babbles something in the background about how she would have volunteered to have baked it for her if only she hadn't run out of her iconic red bean paste. Kurosaki-kun gave them all too short of a notice. Her words spark a commotion of sorts among her classmates but Rukia pays no heed, too stunned by the appearance of the cake.
It's nothing fancy just a common butter cake with vanilla icing, the Happy Birthday! as nondescript as they come in red.
But the gesture still takes her by surprise.
She forgets how to act for a moment, losing her composure.
Much later, she will tell Ichigo that it's not her birthday today. It's fake, much like most of her circumstances in this world, just a random date she put down as she filled in the application form and conveniently forgot about. Truth be told, Rukia barely even remembers her birthday let alone ever getting around to celebrate it.
Sometime in January- a short acknowledgement from her elder brother, maybe they'll share a meal later- quiet as always, the entire affair verging on sombre with idle chatter absent. When the clock strikes twelve, it's another year gone, a lifetime more to go.
"Ah, Kuchiki-san, the candle! Quick blow it out!"
It's Orihime's voice that finally jolts her out from her reverie.
She looks up to see Ichigo's eyes staring expectantly at hers, his shoulders tense, breath held. Behind him, staring just as eagerly at her- that of her classmates, Mahana, Chizuru, Michiru, Tatsuki, Ryo, Mizuiro, Keigo. Nobodies, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, barely a blip on Soul Society radar but to her, they mean something.
To them, Rukia Kuchiki exists as a person and the thought warms her- the ice in her thaws a bit more under their gazes.
She tucks her hair behind her, leaning in towards Ichigo as she shuts her eyes and blows out the candle.
If there truly is a God, may moments like this last a little longer.
My heart was so torn. I had Dorothy Parker's poem Surprise in mind when I saw the prompt but then this is positivity week- NO ANGST!
