The Butterfly Effect

Chapter Five: Dissolve

Dissolve: transitive verb, \di-ˈzälv, -ˈzȯlv also -ˈzäv or -ˈzȯv\

1. to cause to disperse or disappear
2. to separate into component parts
3. to cause to be emotionally moved

***

"How is it feeling?" Tsukabishi indicated Uryū's left hand with his chin, while he rummaged in the first aid kit for the rest of the bandages. They were going through those at an alarming rate, lately.

Uryū closed his fingers over his palm—there was a little spot of dark red on the bandage there where some blood had leaked through the dressings Tsukabishi had applied to the wound. "Stiff," he replied.

The other man grunted softly, gesturing for Uryū to pass his hand over, which he did. Tsukabishi loosened and unwound the bandages, carefully pulling away the padding. Prickles of pain sparked where the gauze took dried blood with it, but Uryū kept his lips pressed together. The wound was scabbing, and would likely be gone entirely within a few days.

Tsukabishi swabbed it with antiseptic and redid the bandages, but it didn't take so much of his attention that he could not speak. "She hasn't reported you," he said. Uryū didn't need to ask what he was talking about. His eyelids fell halfway, weighted down, and he shook his head. Somehow, knowing that produced no feeling of relief. He couldn't pinpoint the cause of his reaction, but perhaps it didn't matter.

"I'll be found eventually," he replied, flexing his hand again once the new bandage was in place. "I've always known that." If he continued on his path, he would eventually fail at concealing himself properly, and his reiatsu would affect the external environment in a way no shinigami could miss. He'd accepted that. Wanted it, even.

"But not before you are ready," Tsukabishi replied, and the firmness in his tone drew Uryū's eyes to him. He blinked, tilting his head to the side, and a small smile twitched beneath Tsukabishi's mustache. "We know what you want, Ishida-kun," he explained. "But it would be a waste, if you got their attention before you were prepared for the consequences."

His pride stung a little, but Uryū was smart enough to know that Tsukabishi was implying something true—he wasn't yet prepared for all of Soul Society to know about him. Particularly not when he wasn't sure exactly how they would react. He dipped his chin. "Thanks for the bandages, Tsukabishi-san."

"Not at all," said the big man, replacing the extra supplies in the medical kit and standing. He was at the door before he turned around halfway, knocking the side of his thumb against the frame a few times and frowning at it. "You know... you might consider speaking with her. It seems you two don't really understand each other quite yet. I think you might be surprised if you did." His tone lacked admonishment or command, but it was quiet and steady, with no hint of artifice, characteristic of his few words.

Uryū frowned, remaining silent as Tsukabishi left the room, then sighed and turned his eyes toward the window. Rain, again.

Of course.

***

As it turned out, even if he'd wanted to take Tsukabishi's advice, she would have made it difficult. He sensed her presence around the shop usually only at night and early in the morning—she'd started leaving for school before he did, and returning beforehand, only to disappear somewhere when he made it back from meetings of the handicrafts club. They made their patrols at the same time, but separately, and he supposed it was fortunate that there hadn't been many other Hollows since the Menos incident.

When there were, he remained at a distance, close enough to intervene if necessary but far enough that they didn't have to speak or cooperate in any way. He still prepared an extra lunch every day, and still had the extra dishes to do every evening when he went to pack them again, but for two people who lived in the same house, he and Rukia had become extremely good at avoiding each other.