Simple Like Tea

Morning crept into the room unwanted and uninvited. The light made its slow climb across her body until it was in her eyes. Reiko had not slept. Suppressing a sigh she sat up in bed and looked out the window. She wasn’t admiring the view. She just wanted to look at anything but the letter she had been staring at all night for the past two nights. A small voice told her she should rip it up, set it on fire, flush it down the toilet or mix and match. But as every time that little voice had spoken up on the subject before, it went ignored. She slid to the edge of the bed and winced when she put her feet on the floor. Inspecting the cut form earlier that morning, she wondered if she needed stitches. Limping to the bathroom, she sat on the floor of her shower and rinsed it, squeezing at the cut to make sure she got all the grime out. Automatically she reached for the first aid kit and took out disinfectant, cotton balls and two bandaids. She took her time cleaning the wound and covering it, but only to delay having to go outside again and face the mess.

Slowly, she got to her feet and limped out of the bathroom, taking off her yukata and depositing it in the laundry basket. It was overflowing, but what did it matter if she washed the clothes or not? In less than four days, she would leave this world. It was almost like she was committing suicide. The thought made her smile bitterly. Stepping carefully around the shards of porcelain, she retrieved her broom from behind the door and started to sweep the wreckage into a pile near the corner of the room. She picked up the pictures on the shrine and wiped up the dried tea stains as best as she could. She then placed the pictures face down one on top of the other on a corner of the table and went to the desk to retrieve a paper and pen. She didn’t have much time left.

When she finished writing, she got up and swept the glass into a garbage bag. She put that garbage bag into another, wrapped herself in the first clean yukata she found – the pink, purple and green one she had been wearing the day she met Renji, but she ignored the memories and the pang of heartache that came with the thought - then carried the bag downstairs and tossed it outside in the alley behind the shop. She went through all the fancy porcelain sets for sale and boxed them carefully, piling the boxes one on top of the other. There were eighteen in total. Two of them she put aside, one with a pattern of yellow marigolds, the other with a blue wave pattern. Those two were gifts for Chiyo and Senji with their last paychecks.

Upstairs again she wrapped her favourite blends of tea, especially the rare ones, into little airtight baggies and placed them into her shopping basket. The dried herbs hanging from the rafters she put in a bag and set aside, uncertain what to do with them yet. She checked the time. It was almost nine. She had time to shower and dress properly before she had to go.

In the shower, she refused to scrub at her tattoo any harder than she scrubbed anywhere else. It didn’t matter now. Her sins had been paid for. She had no more karmic debt to pay. The thought brought peace.

The moment Kuchiki Byakuya had told her the price of the information he’d gathered for her, she had been outraged, angry at him for being so indecent. But the seconds that followed had brought the realization tumbling on her like a pile of bricks. This was not the price of information. This was the price of years of insubordinance, years of suffering and heartache she had caused her o-jii-san when he had been alive. At long last, the gods seemed to have decided to deal her the final punishment.

Reading the letter about Renji had only confirmed for her that fact, and finding out that it had been the truth all along had made her wonder if her entire meeting with Renji had been arranged by the gods just for this purpose. To be punished for her past.

She toweled her hair dry in front of the mirror and looked at her reflection. No, she looked nothing like the picture of her mother. Wrapping her hair into a bun, she wondered if she should cut it now, but the thought felt irrelevant and frivolous. She stood in the doorway of the bathroom, eyeing the yukata she had carefully spread on the bed. A flower pattern in hues of green, pink and purple, one that her o-jii-san had especially liked.

She had planned on wearing a kimono anyway, she told herself while she rummaged through the drawer for one that would feel appropriate. She wished she could call someone to help dress her properly, to tie her obi and help her with all the undergarments that went with the formal kimonos. But it felt like too much. In the end she settled on a pale purple silk patterned in cherry blossoms. Fingering the fabric, she hesitated. Silk was formal, but the pattern was relatively modest. It would have to do. She wrapped her obi around herself, trying to ignore the elongated sleeves of the kimono while she did. Once she was married, she would no longer wear kimonos with long sleeves. Long flowing sleeves were for unmarried women. O-jii-san had been very certain she understood that. But for today, for the last time it would seem, long sleeves would do.

She remembered when she had first learned to wrap her own kimono and tuck in her own folds. It had taken her hours to get ready, but she had stubbornly refused to change back to jeans and blouses. Now, years later, it only took her fifteen minutes. She had felt pride at timing herself in the past and breaking her records. Now, she felt grateful that she had managed to get so good at it, because in her state of mind, it was a wonder she didn't end up looking like an inflated plushie. She looked well-groomed and presentable.

But before she left…

She looked at her bed accusingly. Taking a few careful steps towards, getting only as close as was necessary, she braced herself. With a grim determined face, she reached over and pulled all the sheets off the bed. She picked up the pillow and stripped off the pillowcase, too. Dropping them quickly, she pushed them under the bed with her foot. She would put out new sheets when she got back. These sheets, she would throw away.

Picking up the letter she had written that morning and the small slip of paper with the address on it, she walked away from the shop with her chin slightly lifted and an expression of perfect calm on her face. She didn’t have much time left.

***

Shutting off the vacuum cleaner, she listened carefully. Had it been her imagination, or had the doorbell been ringing? Walking quickly to the front door she peeked through the curtain to see a young girl dressed in a purple kimono on the front step. She opened the door a crack, smiling politely. “Can I help you?”

The young girl smiled and bowed. “I’m sorry to bother you, but is this the residence of Ueno Sayuri-sama?”

Sayuri blinked. “Yes, I am Ueno Sayuri. What can I do for you?”

The girl smiled at her, a calm business smile. “My name is Shirakawa Mai. I am a courier for the shopkeeper’s union representative, Yamada Hiro. I have a letter for you.”

The girl produced an envelope and held it up so that Sayuri could read the name and address on it. It was indeed addressed to her. Curious, Sayuri reached out for the envelope, stepping outside onto the porch. The girl looked harmless enough, but Sayuri was a cautious woman by nature. Her husband was at work, her children at school, and she was an easy target home alone. “I’m very sorry but, I don’t know anyone from the shopkeeper’s union. Could there have been some kind of mistake?”

The girl, Mai, tilted her head to the side, looking puzzled. “I am not sure, Ueno-sama, I am just a courier. Yamada-san said it was placed in his care by the teashop owner, Sujishi-san.”

Sayuri’s heart raced. “Sujishi-san?”

The girl unfolded a small sheet of paper and seemed to read its contents. “Hai. Sujishi Reiko-san. She placed it in the care of Yamada-san to be delivered to you as soon as possible.”

Sayuri’s hands shook. She had thought it was her father for a terrifying moment, but no. Still, it couldn’t be. “Please, Mai-san, do you know anything else about this letter?”

Mai was watching her face, a look of concern painted across her features. “Ueno-sama, are you ok? You look very pale. Perhaps you should sit down.”

Sayuri nodded mutely, turned to look at the door to her house. “Please, Mai-san, come in for a moment. I will make us some tea.”

Hesitantly, Mai nodded and followed her into the house, sitting stiffly on the couch in the living room while Sayuri excused herself to make the tea, still holding the envelope in her hand. Once inside the kitchen, she quickly set out a pot and two cups, then tore open the seal and pulled out a folded sheet of paper along with another sealed envelope inside it, this one addressed to Chinen Akira. She placed the second envelope aside and unfolded the paper. The handwriting was small and cramped, with a roughness to it that spoke of a messy writer.

“Dear O-ka-san,” it was addressed, and Sayuri clapped her hand over her mouth.

You must be surprised to receive this letter from me now. I know we have never spoken or crossed paths, and I also know that it would be pointless to try and do anything about that now. My intention is not to disrupt your life. I understand you are happily married, and a mother of two children. Even knowing this, it does not feel as though I have any brothers or sisters.

In case you hadn’t been able to obtain any information about it, O-jii-san and O-baa-sama are dead. O-baa-sama did not live long after you left, but O-jii-san raised me in her place. He died close to seven years ago, however, of a bad heart. I always thought the two of us, you and I, had taken too much out of him.

O-jii-san left me the teahouse after his death, likely only because he could not find you. Whether or not I wanted it, it is mine.

Don’t worry, I am not giving it to you. I understand wanting to be free of it, of its hold over your life. I am giving it away because I can no longer be responsible for it. As I have planned this, the letter to the attourney in charge of my affairs has already been delivered, and he has already read it. So my affairs are in order.

I do have one request, however. The girl that has delivered this letter to you has delivered her last letter for today. In your envelope you have found a second letter. That second envelope I leave to you to deliver in three days. It is very important that you wait three days from now to give him the letter. Any earlier, and everything will be ruined.

I suppose your curiosity might compel you to try and read that letter. I don’t know if curiosity is in your nature, but if it is, I will spare you the suspense. The letter is addressed to a former lover of mine, and the man who I am leaving the teahouse to. I know you do not want it, I know you have washed your hands clean of everything having to do with the Sujishi family. I am the last one, so your wish will come true. Once this letter has passed into your hand, and the second letter has passed out of your care, you will be forever free. No one alive will be left to know your secrets after I’m gone.

But it is getting late, and I don’t have enough time left to either explain anything more or to reassure you of my intention to leave you alone. I don’t know if you will want to meet me after reading this, but I hope you won’t. I will be long gone by the time you get there anyway.

Please live your life. Please be a great mother and a great wife, and don’t let anything about your past cloud your future.

Sincerely,
Your daughter
Reiko

Sayuri turned off the stove, picked up the second envelope and went back to the living room with both letters in her hands. “Gomen,” she said quietly to Mai when the girl looked at her again with a face full of concern. “I didn’t make the tea.”

She sat down tiredly into another chair and reread the letter in her hand. Mai said nothing for a while. “Ueno-sama, I am very sorry if I have troubled you.”

Sayuri looked up at her in shock, and shook her head. “No, you have not troubled me. I am sure you were only doing your job.”

Sadly, Mai nodded. She had soft features, and a rather plain face. She wasn’t very pretty, but she wasn’t ugly either. Her hair was pulled in a tight bun, making her look severe, though the faded purple of her kimono was playful enough to tell Sayuri that she was not really a severe girl. But then again, she wasn’t really a girl. She must have been in her late twenties at least, but it was hard to look at her as anything but a girl. Sayuri tried to smile at her, but the concern in Mai’s face told her she had failed to.

“Mai-san, do you know anything about the woman who sent this?”

Mai blinked slowly. “Reiko-san is a very quiet person. She doesn’t have many friends, so not many of the shopkeepers know much about her. But still, she took good care of her grandfather when he got sick.”

Sayuri nodded. So, her father had been sick. “His heart?”

Mai nodded. “Hai. People say it was because he never got over the loss of his wife, but I think it might have been stress. He was old, and living alone, taking care of a business all by himself.”

“Alone? Wasn’t Reiko-san there with him?”

Mai shook her head, her expression sad again. “No, Reiko-san was gone for some years before he got sick. I’m not sure where. Some people said she had gone to stay with her parents for a time to make things easier on her o-jii-san.”

“Her parents are alive then?” Sayuri realized suddenly that she was leaning forward eagerly and straightened in her seat.

Mai’s eyes darted uncomfortably around the room, as though looking for an escape. “That is what they said, but to be honest, I don’t think it’s true. I hear some of the older shopkeepers talking, and they don’t think I’m listening when they do, but they say that Reiko-san’s mother abandoned her, and that the father never took responsibility.”

Sayuri felt herself suddenly choke up with the urge to cry. She battled it frantically, but her voice still cracked when she looked down at the letter and said, “So Reiko-san ran away.”

“That’s what I think,” Mai said quietly, as though afraid of being scolded.

“Do you know why?” Sayuri asked her, her voice steady again.

Mai’s face suddenly turned to stone, just for a fleeting moment, before the quiet fear of being scolded settled over her again. Just for a moment, she had seemed familiar, but the moment was gone so quickly, Sayuri must have imagined it. “I’m not sure, Ueno-sama. Perhaps it was difficult for a young girl to live alone with her elderly grandfather. I remember him as a rather strict man.”

Sayuri nodded. She remembered her father as a strict man, as well. “Mai-san, did you deliver any more letters today for Reiko-san?”

Mai looked surprised. “Yes, to a lawyer’s office. How did you know that?”

Sayuri looked down at the envelope in her hand for a long moment without answering. “Is Reiko-san… sick?”

The girl’s face was sad again. “The Sujishi Teahouse has been open six days a week every week for the past six years. Even during the holidays, Reiko-san always opened every morning except on Sundays, when she would go to the farmer’s market to buy ingredients for her new blends. But for the past four days, the teahouse has been closed. Reiko-san hasn’t told anyone anything, but she fired her employees and cancelled all her deliveries. No one says anything about it, but...”

Sayuri wondered if she should go see her, this mysterious daughter she had never laid eyes on after giving birth to her. She wondered what she would be like. But no, the letter had told her not to. She would be long gone. Gone where? It was none of her business. The woman in the letter had seemed reasonable and mature, and she did not need her mother – Ueno Sayuri or Sujishi Misato – after all these years.

“Ueno-sama…” Sayuri looked up in surprise. She had almost forgotten the girl was still there. “If you like, I…” she cleared her throat, offering Sayuri a small clear plastic bag containing shredded dry herbs of some sort with sprinkles of larger chunks of something white. Puzzled, Sayuri took it, turning it over in her hands. “Reiko-san made her own special blends of tea,” Mai said quietly. “This one was her newest. Chrysanthemum coconut.”

Wordlessly, Sayuri opened the bag. The smell of coconut wafted invitingly to her nose, riding the smooth sweet scent of chrysanthemum. For some reason it felt warm and brittle in her hands through the thin plastic, and she suddenly burst into tears. She gripped the little bag in her hands and sobbed, not certain why she had suddenly felt overcome, but the feelings of shame, of despair, of defeat and hopelessness and the overwhelming sensation of heartbreak washed over her in waves. She cried harder than she had ever cried in her life, for her father and her mother, both dead for years and she hadn’t even known. She cried for the daughter she had never known, and that she would never know now. She cried for the teahouse where she had grown up, now being passed on to a stranger. She cried for the man that had broken her heart when she had gotten pregnant. The strong smell of coconut hung heavy in the air, and every time she inhaled it she sunk further into the well of emotions that did not feel like her own. The feelings – shame, despair, defeat, hopelessness – hammered at her over and over again, and she sobbed until her lungs hurt and her throat felt dry and scratched.

A lifetime later, Sayuri was reduced to hiccups. She looked at the little bag of tea in her hands and her heart clenched. “Thank you, Mai-san,” she managed, suppressing another wave of sobs.

“You’re welcome, Ueno-sama,” the girl said quietly.

***

Renji stood in the office with his heart hammering in his chest. Kuchiki Byakuya sat behind his desk, intimidating as always, looking intently at a small sheet of paper in his hand. “Is my sister well?”

Renji nearly jumped. “Hai. She seems to be getting on well in her new home. When I left, all her furniture was where she wanted it and her kitchen was stocked.” Saying it outloud felt stupid. A servant could have been sent to do what he had done at Rukia’s. He had thought his captain overly concerned for his sister when he had first been assigned the ‘mission’. Now he wondered. Why would he send him there when he knew that he was in love with her, especially when she was there alone during Ishigo's absence? And what had he done in the real world while he was gone? Had he seduced Reiko first and then told her about Rukia? Or had he told her about Rukia and then consoled her? Consoled her how? He couldn’t imagine his captain engaging in anything remotely sexual, but the image of Reiko with her head thrown back and her eyes hazy, her lips parted in pleasure at the administrations of a faceless stranger made his insides broil. For whatever reason, her tattoo stood out clear and vivid in his imagination of her in the throes of pleasure.

“Good.” Byakuya placed the paper on his desk and looked at Renji with piercing eyes. “Should I be concerned about your performance from now on, Fukitaichou?”

Renji stiffened and he bared his teeth in a snarl before he could help himself. “My performance, Taichou?” The bastard was taunting him!

Byakuya’s black eyes seemed to examine his every thought and discard it at leisure. Renji felt a growl rising deep in his chest. “Your performance, Fukitaichou. Whatever occurrences you must deal with in your personal life are your own. The sixth squad doesn’t have room for distracted lieutenants who are more absorbed in their personal tragedies than they are with their work.”

Renji clenched his fists. He was shaking with rage! His vision clouded in red and he knew he could no longer suppress the frenzied fury that was consuming him.

He opened his mouth just as the door to the office flew open. Byakuya raised an eyebrow in surprise. Renji spun to face the door and give a tongue-lashing to the rookie recruit that didn’t know better than to await permission outside. Instead of a rookie, however, he found himself facing a shriveled old man bent over a walking cane, dressed somberly in a green kimono dark enough to look black at first glance. Sparse white hairs covered his spotted scalp, and not an inch of him was free of wrinkles. He pointed a gnarled bony finger at Renji and, with a commanding voice, said, “Out.”

Renji blinked, his anger deflated in the face of disbelief. Within moments it welled up again, and he opened his mouth once again to deliver a tirade on simple manners when the voice of Kuchiki Byakuya interrupted him. “That will be all for now, Abarai Fukitaichou.”

Renji hunched his shoulders as though he had just been struck in the back of the head. Closing his eyes, he ground his teeth, and to hell with the arrogant bastard if he heard it or not! Stamping his feet the entire way, he left the office, making sure to slam the door loudly behind him. The echo was loud in the hall, and several unseated officers were looking at him in shock, several of them in mid-activity, all with their mouths open. “Get back to work!” he barked, and they all jumped – he even heard one or two squeak! – and scurried away to look busy someplace else.

Stomping down the hall his mind raced. This was an outrage! What kind of game was Kuchiki playing at? He was just going to pretend Reiko never existed? He was going to conveniently avoid mentioning her around the man she rightfully belonged to?

His heart sped up in shame at the last thought. She had never rightfully belonged to him. She didn’t belong to anyone. The fact that he had taken advantage of her did not make her any more his than the fact that he had given his all for Rukia had made her his. Rukia was Ichigo’s. Was Reiko the captain’s now? He suddenly missed a step and caught himself with a hand on the wall. The thought still made him want to gag. Something was very wrong here. He was missing something vitally important in all of this, but for the life of him he couldn’t imagine what.

Massaging his forehead to try and delay the oncoming migraine he had lived with the past two days, he kept walking.

***

“What can I do for you, Genichi-dono?” Byakuya made a point of leaning back in his chair while the elder stood stiffly in front of his desk like a reprimanded soldier. He seethed inside, with – as he had been forced to concede to himself – nerves and anxiety. He also seethed with rage, that the elder would walk into his office unannounced, during his work hours, and presume to command his lieutenant. On the surface, he wore an unchanging expression of suffering patience.

Genichi’s lips twitched in distaste at the implied insult. He had noticed that Byakuya hadn’t even offered him a chair. Good. “Your time is rapidly coming to an end, Byakuya-san. The elders are impatient to hear your choice. Who is it?”

Again, the nerves and anxiety bubbled up inside him, but he answered in measured tones. “Forgive me, Genichi-dono, my time? Which choice must I make that causes the elders such impatience?”

The old man’s face broke into a humorless smile. “Surely you’re not still playing that trick, Byakuya-san. Your wife. Soi Fon, or Unohana Retsu. Name her.”

Byakuya again put on the expression of suffering patience. “I have already spoken to the one I have chosen to be my wife. Arrangements are in order. We will announce our engagement in two days.”

For an instant, unadulterated glee washed over the old man before it was quickly suppressed into a triumphant smile. “Excellent. Who have you chosen?”

“We both feel some discretion is best utilized here. These are delicate matters, after all. Besides,” here Byakuya gazed at an imaginary spot over the elder’s head, “does it even matter?”

Genichi chuckled as though at a delightful joke. “No, I suppose it does not matter. Two days you say? Good. Then we will prepare for the ceremony to take place immediately afterwards, the next day should be fine. I shall alert the elders immediately.” Still chuckling to himself, he turned to leave.

“Genichi-dono,” Byakuya spoke in measured tones again. “You must have forgotten.”

“Forgotten?”

“The bargain. Kuchiki Futaba.”

Looking like he had been forced to taste something most unpleasant, the elder pulled himself up to his full unimpressive height. “So you still insist on that bit of foolery. Very well, Kuchiki Futaba will be dealt with next week.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Byakuya said, rising from his chair to gain the full advantage of his superior height. “I took the liberty of arranging for a small wedding ceremony to take place for her tomorrow. This way you can focus your undivided attention on more important matters.”

“You overstep yourself.” There was a deadly quality to the old man’s voice. “It is never wise to make enemies of your own House, Byakuya-san.”

Byakuya met the elder’s gaze unblinkingly until he snarled and limped the rest of the way out of the office, shutting the door behind him without a further word.

Yes, nerves and anxiety. Sinking back into his seat, Byakuya massaged his forehead to try and delay the oncoming migraine he had lived with the past two days.



TBC


AN/
I don't know if I'm on crack or something, but just in case that wasn't clear, "Shirakawa Mai" is actually Reiko. I had considered writing that part out entirely and not having the mother be in the picture, but the storyline demanded she make a cameo appearance. I'm getting a clearer picture in mind about how this ends, but there's still a bit to go before we can reach that end, so stick with me, everyone ^^

I've gotten very, very, very generous reviews, from familiar names and some new ones too, and extra special thanks goes out to those that took the time. It means the world to me, truly it does.

The next chapter will be up SOON. It's already half-way done, so expect it within the next few days.