Simple Like Tea

Chapter 3- Understandings

Reiko sat at the small floor desk and chewed on some more mint leaves. She had watched her o-jii-san do this, when she was a child, and had always thought it was the epitome of being a grown up. Now she knew what he had meant when he had told her running the teashop was hard work.

Running her finger down the line of numbers again she rechecked her figures and her vision blurred. The sun was just starting to set, but already she felt tired. She had taken her laundry to the cleaners earlier and rushed to get Senji and Chiyo’s paychecks done. After depositing the week’s earnings at the bank, she came back to her messy little apartment and took out all her big accounting ledgers. Bills sat stacked on the edge of the desk, and there were more downstairs that she would get later.

The knock on the door was unexpected. Frowning, she got up and looked out the window. A bright head of hair stood on the street below, and she vaguely recognized it as the young man she had met earlier that morning. Touching her lips, she ransacked her mind for his name as she rushed down the stairs to let him in.

“Konbanwa, Abarai-san,” she greeted breathlessly when she opened the door, pleased with herself for remembering.

“I hope you’re not busy,” he mumbled, and she realized he was embarrassed. She also realized that he had substituted the black kimono he had worn that morning for some more colourful apparel, something garish and uncomfortable to look at.

“Not at all!” He looked at her guiltily as though not quite believing her. “I was just looking over the books. Please, come in,” she bowed, ushering him in.

He stepped into the teahouse hesitantly, as though not certain what to expect. Reiko noted quietly that he wasn’t carrying the sword anymore, and some of her nervousness faded. He had said he wasn’t there for trouble, but she remembered the sort, back when she was a fool running around with boys. The red hair and the tattoos didn’t escape her notice, either, but she had found herself unable to leave him alone. If she could help him find a better way, she would be so happy.

“It seems like a very nice shop,” he murmured, embarrassed again, and Reiko blinked. She realized she had been standing there like a fool, lost in her thoughts, and rushed to a table with a nice view, setting the chairs down around it. He opened his mouth as though to say something, then shut it again and sat down with a mummble that might have been ‘thank you’.

“I’m so glad you came, Abarai-san,” Reiko chirped, and she realized with an internal start that it was true. “I was hoping you would come,” she went on, and gripped her yukata nervously, consciously commanding herself to stop it.

“I…” Renji looked intently at the tabletop and seemed to steel himself. With what seemed like a display of courage, he looked up into her face and said, “I wanted to try your tea.”

“Wonderful!” Reiko clapped her hands together, genuinely pleased, and rushed to the kitchen area of the shop. “I haven’t had time to work on that new tea yet, but you probably wouldn’t like it very much. It’s very sweet, and my o-jii-san used to say that sweetness kills the flavor of tea. But there is one that the customers seem to like, and I made it just a few weeks ago, but it has a nice aroma, and the sensation is very memorable. When you mix new teas, the sensation is almost as important as the taste. It can leave you with a lasting impression, because no matter how wonderful something tastes, if it feels unpleasant going down your throat you won’t enjoy drinking it. And everyone knows tea isn’t about quenching thirst, it’s about enjoyment, and that what I strive for. I want to make tea people can enjoy drinking, and the sensations of my tea are the reason people come back! Only the aroma is more important than-”

She looked up from where she was working and saw that the red-haired young man was looking at her with an odd expression on his face. She blushed and clasped her hands to her mouth.

“Gomen,” she half-laughed with nervousness. “You must think I’m such a fool, Abarai-san, twittering on like that about tea. I didn’t mean to bore you.”

He blushed then, fiercely, and made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “No! I didn’t mean- that is, I wasn’t… I was…” for a moment he seemed like he was on the verge of shouting, the sweat beading his forehead a testimony to a great deal of effort. Reiko wondered if he wasn't used to being around quietp laces like this as he gulped audibly and tried again. “I would very much like to try your tea.” He had managed to with-hold his instinctive reaction it seemed like, and Reiko blinked at him. Sitting quietly seemed to be at odds with his personality. If it really was, she wondered why he was so determined to sit quietly with her. He glanced at her when she gave no response, and, shaking herself, she turned back to the work at hand, handling the porcelain delicately as she placed the steaming teapot and two small cups onto a tray and carried them to the table. “Arigato,” Renji murmured, avoiding looking at her face while she poured the tea.

When she palmed the small cup in her hand, she saw him do the same in an attempt to imitate her. She wasn’t being ceremonial about the tea, she was just drinking it the way her o-jii-san had taught her in the manner best suited to enjoying the aroma, the flavor and even the porcelain the tea was served in. Slowly, she lifted the cup to her face and inhaled. The man did the same. Reiko balanced the cup carefully as she swished the contents once, twice, thrice, then inhaled again. In his attempt to imitate her, he sloshed the tea noisily twice, then inhaled again. Suddenly, his eyebrows shot up, and she saw that as sloppy as his technique was, he had managed to bring out the aroma of the tea. She withheld a giggle as she lifted the cup the rest of the way to her lips and took a small sip, before gently placing the cup back on the table.

Renji took a small sip, started to lower the cup then stopped. His face unreadable, he lifted the cup back and took a larger sip. Reiko opened her mouth to caution him not to burn his tongue, but he only sipped again, noisily emptying the small cup’s contents.

Reiko did giggle then, and he looked at her, clearly embarrassed as he set the cup down in front of him. “It’s very good,” he said almost reluctantly, but with genuine awe in traces of his compliment.

“Thank you. I’m so glad you like it. Would you like a second cup?” She lifted the teapot without waiting for an answer, thinking that he may be more pleasant than he seemed at first glance.

**

As she poured him his second cup of tea, Renji looked at her face. Her smooth features, the ones he had originally passed off as plain, he saw now were the side effect of living like this. He wondered if drinking lots of tea really was as good for the skin as the nobles claimed, and found himself trying to guess her age.

The way she had worked, moving among her shelves and expertly handling the filters and the porcelain had stunned him. Where he would have been clumsy she was graceful, where he would have made things forcefully she seemed to coax. He looked around the shop again while she sipped at her cup and noted how clean it was, how orderly everything seemed to be. Did she live alone? Most girls her age in rukongai would have gathered themselves into a family, for protection and also, because it was lonely to be alone. He thought of Rukia and clammed up on the memories before they could get far. He had come here to get his mind off her.

“It’s cinnamon tea,” she said suddenly, and Renji looked at her, then looked at the small cup set in front of him. “It has a sharp scent and goes down strong. I thought it would be the best kind of tea for someone like you.”

He stiffened. “Someone like me, Sujishi-san? You’ve seen others like me before?”

“Lots of times,” she said instantly, and Renji looked at her, doubt drawn plainly across his features. She giggled and he felt himself blush. Why did he feel so foolish around her? “I used to be young and foolish,” she said quietly, and he looked at her puzzled by the sudden change in subject. “When I was running around, I used to see people like you all the time. I used to be like you, myself, Abarai-san.”

Suddenly he was washed with relief. She hadn’t meant she saw shinigami all the time. She had thought he was some kind of punk was all. Doubling back in his thoughts he stiffened. “I’m not a punk!” he exclaimed more harshly than he intended. “I do respectable work, and I happen to be very good at what I do.” Then as an afterthought, he added, “And it’s Renji, not Abarai-san.”

She blinked at him, pausing with her cup raised halfway to her lips, then smiled sadly and set it back down. “Gomen. I shouldn’t say things like that, or make judgements on people. Please, call me Reiko,” she said brightly and smiled at him in a way too cheery to be anything but fake.

“Reiko-san,” he tested the name and found that he could get used to it. She poured him another cup of tea without asking this time, then got up to take the pot back to the kitchenette in the back of the shop. Watching her work quietly like that, he thought she must be alone often. He felt the urge to stand next to her and see her smile again. Her smile was very pretty. “Do you live here alone?” he asked and her shoulders stiffened minutely.

“Yes, but it’s not so bad. I’m not lonely.” Her voice was cheerful, but he knew that if someone had to say they were ok when they weren’t even asked, they weren’t ok.

“I live alone, too,” he said to the small cup in his hand. It looked out of place, so delicate and beautiful between his large callused fingers. He wasn’t some noble like Kuchiki Taichou who just drank fancy tea out of fancy cups like it was an everyday thing. He imagined a humiliating scenario where he broke it and set it back down on the table hastily. “I know it can get lonely sometimes, even if you keep yourself busy working all the time.” He had to blink to realize the words had come out of his mouth. What was wrong with him? He was behaving very oddly.

Reiko paused while drying her hands, looking surprised at him. If he hadn’t been so surprised at himself for saying it he would have been angry at her for looking so shocked. “I suppose that sometimes, I would like some company. But work is also important.”

“Work is important,” he agreed reluctantly, “but it shouldn’t be the most important, even if it’s something you love. How old are you?” The question was out of his mouth before he had even half-formed it.

She seemed taken aback at first, and for a moment Renji wondered if he had crossed the line. From the very start this had been the kind of exchange where they had both been quick to blurt things out, and he had enjoyed it immensely. No one called anyone else an idiot, and no one got punched in the face, but there was honesty, too. A girl like Reiko was someone he couldn't imagine every lying with a straight face. She had been patient to the point of almost being scary about it, but now she seemed to recoil and he almost started to take it back when she finally answered. “I’m twenty-six. How old are you?”

“Thirty,” he blurted, and the lie felt stupid. She giggled and looked at him disbelievingly, so he hastily amended. “Twenty.” She seemed to accept that as she sat across from him and placed two more cups in front of each of them. She started to pour his cup without asking and then poured herself a cup.

“Pepper chamomile,” she said, lifting her little cup and swishing it delicately, inhaling and smiling. “The pepper will burn your tongue even while the chamomile soothes it. I think you will like it, Renji-kun.”

He sniffed suspiciously at his cup, then took a small sip. He smiled in spite of himself. “It’s very good, Reiko-san.”

“Thank you.”

When she poured his second cup, he felt more comfortable than he had felt in ages. He noted that the sun was down, and that night had settled over Karakura town, but only in passing. He knew the captain was probably miffed by his absence, but he didn’t care. Reiko’s company, even in silence, was what he needed now, away from the Seireitei where people would still be talking about Rukia and Ichigo. Maybe he wasn’t really being himself, but he wasn’t forcing anything, either. He just felt the need to be quiet when she spoke to him so softly like that, and looked at him with her face all soft the way it looked right now.

And then he heard it, the shrill scream of a soul. A hollow. Renji stiffened when he looked at the woman sitting across from him, and every line of her body language told him she had heard it too. He almost ground his teeth in anger. He had hoped he was wrong, that her seeing him was just a fluke. Getting out of his seat, he rushed to the door, and was almost outside before her voice stopped him. “Renji-kun!” she sounded not quite frightened, but close to it.

“Please stay inside, Reiko-san,” he managed before rushing out. He searched frantically for a place to stash his gigai, turned a corner and dropped it in a shadowy alley. Now in his shinigami form, he raced back out of the alley and heard the gasp. His chest clenched. With an effort, he turned around and saw Reiko standing there, a hand over her mouth. Her eyes darted to the dark alley behind him before resting on him again. He swore softly, turned around and ran. After he killed this hollow, he could modify her memory. She would never know he even existed.

But even as he thought it, his heart clenched with pain at the thought of being forgotten by Reiko.


TBC

I'm starting the summer semester at school this week (yuck) so freetime will be more rare for me, but I'll still be able to read all my favourite stories and keep updating my own. The reviews I've gotten have been very very generous, and I want to give special thanks for those of you who took the time to tell me they liked my story and my writing. And for the lurkers, I thank them, too. I'm glad people are reading my story, which is, afterall, what any writer wants. ^^

Thanks again and stay tuned! *waves*