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Forgotten Language	By : nausicaasmith Category: Bleach > General Views: 1547 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from Bleach, I just borrowed the characters.

Chapter List
- 1-Forgotten Language
- 1
Once I spoke the
language of the flowers,

Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,

Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,

And shared a conversation with the housefly in my bed.

Once I heard and answered all the questions of the crickets,

And joined the crying of each falling dying flake of snow,

Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .

How did it go?

How did it go?

--Shel
Silverstein

Today, Ichigo had
given Rukia some human money and taught her how to use the vending machines at
school.� She had gotten a juice pack
(the purple kind) and a bag of little orange and brown sweets filled with
something called peanut butter, which was quite tasty in spite of the fact that
it was nothing like butter at all.� And
that was all well and good, but Rukia was really getting fed up with the real
world.

She had decided that
it was probably the fact that she couldn't leave that was making her lose her
fascination with it.� Why, why, why
hadn't her powers returned yet?� It was
all she could do these days to summon weak kidou against a Hollow while hiding
behind Ichigo.� And even after chanting
the incantation just so, the spell always came down with such a light touch
that the enemy brushed it off with a laugh.�
It angered her to know that only a month and a half ago she wouldn't
have had to speak a word to call forth that magic, and inevitably the Hollow
would have been slain by her own hand rather than by a cocky orange-haired
wannabe.

Rukia tightened the
drawstrings of her pajamas; she never could find clothes that fit right.� What I
could have done a month ago won't help if I can't do it tomorrow, will it?� Personal circumstances aside, irritation
aside, she had a job to do and she was going to do it, powers or no powers,
goddammit.� She pulled the blanket up to
her chin, laid her phone on her collarbone, and tucked her hands behind her
head.� Luckily Ichigo had been
cooperative and fallen into the routine pretty quickly.� That Ichigo. �He had forced Rukia to come to the conclusion that humans were
grossly underestimated.

The most frustrating
thing about giving him her power was that she could still taste the power, the
magic, the hum of energy that flowed through her.� It was always there.� Like
the lost lyrics of an old song or the forgotten steps of a dance she'd done in
her childhood, it was just out of her grasp.�
Taunting her, infuriating her.�
Each time she reached out for it, stretching her slender fingers to the
sky, it jumped away like a teasing little fairy.� When her hands closed on the air where her sword should have
been, she felt the loss as physical as if a real part of her had been cut away.

If she didn't regain
some power soon and report in to Captain Ukitake, someone would be sent out
after her.� Exchanging power with
another being, especially a human being, was a felony.� Even if there hadn't been any other
alternative, even if she'd have failed her mission, even if she and Ichigo and
his family would have died if she hadn't done it.� Rukia had broken the law, and if she didn't get back to Soul
Society soon they would come here to find her, and find Ichigo, and she
couldn't let him be punished for her sins.

**BUZZ BUZZ**

Rukia slammed the
closet door open and fell out of the top shelf, landing in a most embarrassing
way on the carpet below.� She hadn't
realized she'd fallen asleep, and the phone had given her a nasty shock when it
went off.�� Gathering herself, she
flipped it open (it had fallen with her) and checked the location: the
park.� Again.� What is up with that damned
park? she wondered, but there was no time to speculate about it now.

"Ichigo!"

He was already
leaping out of bed when she pulled her glove on.� Kon was scrabbling around on the floor where he'd been thrown
from the bed.� Ichigo looked around,
rubbing at his eyes.� Rukia glanced at
the clock at his bedside: 10:13.� Had
she been asleep for a whole hour?� No
matter.� Ichigo turned to her in the
darkness and spread his arms wide with a barely visible sleepy grin.

"Hit me,
Shinigami." he said.� She did.

Thirty seconds later
they were racing toward the park. Rukia clung on piggyback-style in her pj's,
her arms tight around his neck and heels digging into his sides.� The dark aura engulfed them at the north
edge of the park, where the playgrounds were.�
It was here.

Ichigo deposited Rukia on a bench to
watch from afar as he ventured cautiously toward the presence.� He wasn't much good at sensing reiatsu, but
this one gave itself away.� It appeared
before him as he approached the �jungle gym� contraption (she'd asked and asked why it was called that, but nobody
had an answer for her) and swiped at him with a giant talon that shone bright
white in the glow of the street lamp.�
Ichigo leaped back just in time, and Rukia set about putting up a
barrier between them.

�Disintegrate,� she began as the creature kicked this time at Ichigo as he landed on
top of a swing set.� With a shout his
sword sliced through the thing's leg.� �Black dog of
Rondaniini...�� The sounds were familiar and
comforting as her mouth rounded out each syllable with perfect clarity and
authority.� For a moment, she almost
felt she could touch the reiatsu that she had lost.

Ichigo thrust his sword forward into the
thing's shoulder, and it screamed in rage.�
Rukia's barrier formed around it as it reached out a claw to grab him,
but as it touched the red light cast by her magic, there was a sound of
breaking glass and the barrier shattered.�
It didn't stop the Hollow, but it gave Ichigo the split second opening
he needed to slice upward―through its stomach, up its neck and straight out through the top of
the mask.� The Hollow disappeared in a
flurry of green and white sparks.

Anger and humiliation pulsed through
Rukia.� She refused to be carried back,
instead running at Ichigo's side and barely keeping up in her tired state.� Just that little bit of useless kidou had
weakened her so!� Blood pressure rising,
Rukia gritted her teeth and cursed under her breath.� If anything, her powers were getting weaker!� What an embarrassment to Seireitei and to
the Kuchiki House she was!

�You okay?�� Ichigo looked down at her
over his shoulder.

�What?� Of course I am.�

�That magic thing was pretty cool.�
When I get better at this, can you teach me?�

�We'll see.�� Her face burned in
shame.� In this state, she couldn't even
properly demonstrate it for him, much less guide his reiatsu with her own in
order to form the appropriate shapes and consistencies of each art. She didn't
deserve to be called a Shinigami.

When they got back,
Ichigo climbed back into his body and Rukia climbed out on the roof.� She lay on her back, clicking through the
maps on her phone and occasionally glancing up into the night sky.� The stars were pretty, and the air was cool
and breezy enough to calm her nerves.�
Being pissed all the time wouldn't make her powers return any faster.

Lying there on the
rooftop, staring into the night sky and muttering familiar incantations under
her breath, Rukia didn't know--could not have known--what the upcoming months
and years would bring.� Nevertheless, she
had the impression that she ought to enjoy a few quiet weeks while she had the
chance.� At the same time some heavy,
ominous breeze blew through her soul, making her shiver and long for the
training grounds and the harsh clatter of blade upon blade.� Something was going to happen, and she
needed to be strong.

Sufficiently cooled off, Rukia climbed
down and sat on the window sill.��
Ichigo was already in bed, sleeping the sleep of the poor innocent human
boy that he was.� His involvement in
this was a direct result of her failure.�
One day, she would regain her powers and would again stand between the
souls of the town and the Hollows who threatened them.� Like she was assigned to do, like she was
meant to do.� People like Ichigo
shouldn't have to worry about such things.

But like a long
forgotten language on the tip of her tongue, the strength she so desperately
sought was still just out of reach.�
Rukia inhaled deeply, and breathed out everything she hated, everything
she feared, everything she wished she could do and could not.� The worry was gone, her body slackened
against the window frame.� With a last
glance out into the inky black panorama above, Rukia turned inward and climbed
back into the closet and into bed.� They
had school in the morning.
- 1
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Forgotten Language