It had been 55 years since Hisana had left Rukongai to marry the heir to the Kuchiki clan. 51 years since she had passed away. 51 years since she had been left to wallow in loneliness.
On the hill overlooking Inuzuri, a gentle breeze picked up, ruffling the dark locks of a girl who sat quietly in front of a grave, a distant gaze reflecting the light cast by a single candle. She watched the flickering flame absently, before turning her attention to a wreath of plum blossoms that had been draped over the headstone, reaching up to straighten the flowers before studying the words etched on it, even though she knew them by heart.
"In loving memory of Hisana, who endeared herself to everyone she met."
Pushing herself to her feet, she undid the hairslide that held a few dark locks in place, sighing heavily as they fell into place over the bridge of her nose. It was a small tribute of sentimental respect, the only way she felt she could express her feelings to her departed twin.
Pools of dark blue softened as she turned to leave. Allowing herself one last glance over her shoulder, a small smile graced her lips.
"See you soon, tsuin*."
With that, she turned and left. As the sound of delicate footsteps faded into the distance, the candle sputtered out.
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"Aisuru, where in the hell-"
"Here, Madamu*!"
Aisuru Watanabe had skidded to a partially succesful halt at the foot of the steps, out of breath and half-awake, her shoulder-length hair trailing behind her, the strands of hair that should've hung over her nose clipped to the side with a hairslide. How could she have let herself sleep in today of all days?!
When she dashed outside, it was no surprise that she almost landed in an unceremonious heap in the street as she almost tripped over a crate of watermelons.
"For Kami's* sake, girl, get it together! You're a young lady, not a Hollow!"
Regaining her balance, she straightened her spine, trying to find the courage to look Fukushima in the eye. Murasaki Fukushima was Inuzuri's resident hard-as-nails slave-driver/landlady/shop owner. Any fool who tried to break into her shop was signing his own death warrant.
Aisuru winced. The older woman was going to hold this against her for the rest of the day. "Gomen*, Madamu, I was trying to fix my-"
"Serve me your excuses later! I don't want your babbling to waste any more precious time than it already has. Thanks to your tardiness, that bastard Daichi has probably taken the best spot. Never mind standing there catching flies, girl, get that crate and move!"
As her boss turned to load the last of their wares onto the cart, Aisuru sighed, and reached for the crate she'd almost tripped over. Her gut was telling her it was going to be a long day.
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Tenshu no fesutibara*, as it was known, was a day for fifty selected shopkeepers to go into the Seireitei and sell their wares to the shinigami. Personally, Aisuru was not a fan of this "fesutibara*". She knew it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say she dreaded it.
As they passed through the Western Gate, the weight of the numerous shinigami's gaze settled on her shoulders, like an extra bag she wished she didn't have to carry. She bit her tongue as she focused on the path ahead of her.
"All I have to do is bear this for a few hours, and then we can go home."
This thought did nothing to comfort her. Swallowing nervously, Aisuru stopped beside the cart, placing her crate of watermelons on the floor and stretching her arms, working the dull ache from her muscles.
"Come on then, girl, let's go. Our stall's outside the 6th Division building."
She nodded absently, too caught up in her own thoughts to pay her employer that much attention. Fukushima sighed knowingly, before turning to instruct the young man pulling the cart. The 6th Division was a short walk away, and since the sky was relatively clear and it wasn't as crowded as they'd anticipated, they took their time.
(An hour later - because I'm lazy ;3)
Aisuru yawned. It had been fairly busy, but then, Fukushima always seemed to do quite well. Whether it was her somewhat persuasive advertising or intimidating appearance that brought in the customers was unclear. Not that it really mattered, but-
"Aisuru!"
With a jump of surprise, she fell off her chair with a yelp and a quiet thud. Wincing, she cursed as Fukushima hauled her up by the arm, scolding her clumsiness.
"Now, pay attention, girl. I want you to go and get that extra crate of honey. I would fetch them myself, but I wouldn't leave you in charge here if I was paid to."
"No. You'd take the payment and then make yourself scarce, leaving me to deal with your mess, like the last time."
Aisuru sighed as she stretched lazily. The old woman seemed to make a hobby of ranting about her seemingly never-ending screwups and shortcomings. It had become a matter of letting it go through one ear and out of the other. As Fukushima turned to serve another customer, she took the chance to slip around the corner out of sight.
The storage corner was little more than a shaded area beneath a copse of plum blossoms trees, tucked away out of sight of the customers. Aisuru moved to the nearest pile of crates, the soft grass tickling her toes as she walked.
Pulling back the fabric covering of the crate, speckled patches of sunlight bounced off of the glass jars. She couldn't help but be reminded of mischievous amber eyes and a playful smile. A frown marred her forehead, as Shihoin Yoruichi's words echoed in her conscious. What if she had accepted her offer? Would Hisana's fate have been-
Walking into a tall, solid figure snapped her out of her reverie. Aisuru landed with a thud in the dirt, the jars landing in the grass behind her as she attempted to muffle a curse. Her hairslide had come loose without her noticing, and the locks of dark hair drifted into place across her nose. The slide itself had fallen into it's owner's lap. The apology slipped out before she could stop it. She supposed it was the force of habit.
"Gomen, gomen. I really should have been paying more-"
"Who are you?"
Aisuru stiffened at the voice. It was detached, distant. Daring to peek out from under her eyelids, she took in the zanpakuto, the captain's haori, and the slate grey eyes observing her, the tiniest flare of disbelief evident in their depths. She sucked in a sharp breath of air.
"It can't be him! He is shimai's*-"
"K-kuchiki Byakuya!"
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Takes place post-timeskip. I thought Ikimono Gakari's beautiful Sakura fit this story perfectly :)
Dictionary
Aisuru (my OC's name) - loving
Tsuin - twin
Madamu - madam
Gomen - sorry
Kami - God
Tenshu no fesutibara - shopkeeper's festival
Fesutibara - festival
Shimai - sister
Thanks for reading, reader ;)
Josie <3
