[Memories of Nobody Arc] Part 132: Will of the Heart

Yato and Rukia stood motionless, their eyes locked in a silent conversation. The tension between them crackled in the air, almost tangible, as if the very atmosphere was aware of the stakes at play. Their breaths were synchronized, shallow but steady, mirroring the tension of warriors preparing for a decisive strike. Rukia's posture was precise, her body moving with the elegance and discipline that only years of Kendo training could confer. Every swing of her zanpakutō was calculated, every step taken with purpose.

In contrast, Yato's movements were wild and unpredictable. His strikes were strong, but they lacked the refinement of formal training; his style was a chaotic blend of instinct and brute force. Each of his attacks was unorthodox, reflecting a life of battles fought not with finesse, but with sheer improvisation. Despite the apparent difference in their approaches, neither could gain the upper hand. Their swords met repeatedly in a flurry of strikes and blocks, each deflection sending sparks into the air. It was almost as if they could anticipate each other's movements, as if their blades were dancing to an inaudible melody.

Each impact of their swords sent waves of energy through the air around them, creating a palpable tension that seemed to distort the space between the two. When their swords clashed again with a resounding clang, something changed. The world around them began to warp, the colors of the sky and earth blurring and twisting as if reality itself was being stretched and pulled in multiple directions.

Suddenly, Rukia found herself standing in a completely unfamiliar street. She was surrounded by a picturesque neighborhood, bathed in sunlight, where laughter and playful shouts filled the air. The sky above was an almost unreal shade of blue, cloudless, and the warm, golden sunlight enveloped the world in a soft, dreamlike glow.

Children were everywhere. They ran through the street, their sneakers slapping against the pavement as they chased balls, ran in circles, or played with makeshift toys. Some laughed loudly, while others argued over the rules of their games. The energy was contagious, vibrating in the atmosphere. It was a world of innocent chaos, free from the weight of responsibility or danger.

Rukia blinked, confused, taking in the scene. This wasn't Karakura. She had spent enough time there to know every corner of its streets.

As she surveyed the area, something caught her attention. Amidst the sea of running and laughing children, one boy stood out.

He was different from the others. Not in appearance, but in behavior. His small body radiated an uncontrollable energy, as if he could barely contain himself in his own skin. He ran through the midst of the other children with an impulsive and wild intensity. His movements were erratic, guided by whatever emotion dominated him at the moment, and his face, though youthful, displayed expressions far too intense for someone his age. Sometimes, his eyes gleamed with mischief and excitement, but in the blink of an eye, they darkened with frustration.

Rukia watched as he interacted with the other children. In one moment, he laughed and threw his arms around the others in playful wrestling. In the next, he was frowning, fists clenched, as he argued over a ball or a small misunderstanding. He didn't seem to care about being smaller than some of the other kids or the risk of losing the fight. He pressed forward with reckless abandon, fighting as if the outcome didn't matter, as if the act of fighting itself was what kept him alive.

His indomitable spirit intrigued Rukia. There was something about him, something intense and unfiltered. He displayed his emotions openly, in contrast to the calm Rukia often tried to maintain. She could see it in the way his face twisted when things didn't go his way, in the way his entire body seemed to vibrate with anger when he was upset. But as quickly as the storm came, it passed, and he was back to smiling, throwing himself back into play without hesitation.

Despite the chaotic scene, something felt wrong. Rukia frowned as she tried to make sense of what she was witnessing. She had assumed these were Yato's memories, but as she watched the boy, something didn't fit. This boy, so impulsive, so raw in his emotions, didn't seem to match the image Rukia had of Yato. There was no resemblance, neither in appearance nor mannerisms.

She approached the boy, curious, trying to understand what made him stand out so starkly. He was in the midst of another argument, this time over a toy, and as his anger escalated, Rukia could almost feel the heat of his frustration emanating from him.

"Who is he?" Rukia whispered to herself, narrowing her eyes as she tried to decipher the scene.

And then, as suddenly as the moment came, it was gone.

Rukia blinked, suddenly back in the present. The street was replaced by Yato's inner world. Their zanpakutōs were still pressed against each other, the shock of steel vibrating between them, their spiritual pressures intertwining in a tense but controlled duel.

Yato raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed Rukia's momentary distraction.

'What is she trying to do…?' Yato wondered.

Rukia's grip on her zanpakutō tightened, her mind still buzzing with the strange memory she had just witnessed. The boy and the unfamiliar street were a puzzle she couldn't solve. It wasn't Yato's past, she was sure of that now. But whose memory was it? And why was she seeing it?

Her heart raced as curiosity mixed with confusion. However, the call of battle grounded her once more. Rukia met Yato's gaze and raised her zanpakutō again, her stance firm.

Yato wasted no time and lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air, and Rukia parried the blow. Each time their blades met, a burst of energy radiated, and with it, more memories flooded Rukia's mind. The memories came to her in fragmented flashes, like pages of a book flipped through rapidly.

As their blades clashed faster and faster, the images accelerated, becoming almost too quick to comprehend. It was like watching a movie at impossible speed, where the scenes blurred together, yet somehow Rukia could still grasp the essence of what she was seeing. She saw a pre-teen boy, who, by his facial expressions, seemed to be the same boy Rukia had seen earlier, but his behavior was entirely different.

He was calmer, and his eyes no longer held the intensity they once did. He had a lazy, relaxed gaze.

In some moments, Rukia saw the boy chatting with friends, in other moments, he was in the comfort of his room, listening to various types of music, ranging from upbeat and danceable tracks to calmer, more serene ones. For some reason, the music seemed familiar to Rukia, but she couldn't understand why she felt that way.

After a flash, Rukia now stood in a room illuminated by the flickering light of a television screen. The boy was sitting on the floor, his eyes fixed on the screen, where scenes were unfolding before him. She saw familiar faces... Ichigo, Inoue, Chad, Ishida, and herself... moving through their battles and struggles as if they were on a stage, their lives playing out in a world that was both real and unreal.

'What is this…?' she wondered, not understanding what was happening.

She looked at the boy sitting on the couch, almost as if she were trying to decipher him, until a small object caught her attention. A silver object that the boy wore on his finger. A ring that Rukia immediately recognized.

'That's... the engagement ring that Yato wears….' she thought, looking at her own left hand upon seeing the same ring. Something that had appeared there during the time Rukia had been imprisoned in the Soul Society.

This would mean that the boy... witnessing events from a distance, like a spectator watching a show unfold... was Yato... or at least a version of him. She could feel his knowledge of the past, of events that had already happened in their world.

And then, there were flashes of the future... vague, incomplete, but enough to make Rukia's heart race. Words like "Visored," "Arrancar," and "Fullbringer" flashed in her mind, each accompanied by images that were almost within her grasp, tantalizingly close, but frustratingly elusive. She saw shadowy figures and faces she couldn't identify and felt a deep, unsettling fear that these were things yet to come. The realization hit her like a physical blow.

As Rukia struggled to understand that she was witnessing Yato's memories, he too was overwhelmed by a similar sensation. A pressure formed in his mind, like a door being forced open from within. Then, images that were not his own flooded his vision. He saw a young Rukia, alone in the unforgiving streets of Rukongai, struggling to survive. The biting cold, the constant hunger... he could feel it all as if they were his own experiences.

The connection between them became overwhelming, and as suddenly as the visions had started, they ended. Both blinked, the surreal images fading, leaving them back in their original surroundings. Yato's heart pounded wildly in his chest, his mind reeling from the raw, intimate glimpse into Rukia's past. He realized that she had also seen inside him, and a cold fear gripped him.

'Damn it…!' he cursed mentally.

His instinct was to pull away, to distance himself before she could see even deeper into the parts of himself he kept hidden. He tried to retreat, taking a step back, but Rukia was relentless. She advanced, using Shunpo to close the distance in an instant.

The battle resumed with renewed fervor, but this time it was different. The clash of their swords was driven by a desperate need for understanding, for connection. Each strike carried the weight of unspoken words, each defense, a question left unanswered. The energy between them crackled with intensity, their zanpakutō sparking with spiritual power that illuminated the world around them.

There was something more, something on the edge of her perception that she couldn't quite grasp. It was as if Yato was aware of an imminent threat, something looming over their world, but the details were obscured, out of reach.

"Yato..." Rukia continued to look into Yato's eyes as their blades collided.

It was hard to believe, but gradually, Rukia began to accept that in some strange way, Yato had once been someone else… someone who had knowledge of events that had yet to occur, events that might unfold differently now that he was part of this world. This uncertainty, this divergence from what he knew, was what terrified him the most.

As these thoughts swirled in Rukia's mind, Yato was simultaneously bombarded by her memories. He saw her life unfold before his eyes, from the moment she was adopted into the Kuchiki clan. The cold, imposing walls of the Kuchiki mansion towered over her, and despite being welcomed by one of the most prestigious families in the Soul Society, Rukia felt a deep discomfort. She was an outsider, thrust into a world of rigid traditions and high expectations, and the weight of it oppressed her like a suffocating mantle. He saw the growing distance between her and Renji, a chasm that widened over time as she struggled with her own insecurities. He could feel her sense of inadequacy, the belief that she was never enough, always falling short of what was expected of her.

The memories continued to flood Yato's mind, an unrelenting stream exposing Rukia's deepest fears and desires. He saw her questioning her own worth, doubting her abilities, feeling like a shadow in the grand scheme of things… always present but never fully acknowledged. Yet, through it all, he could see the strength that kept her moving, the quiet determination that carried her through all the hardships.

Yato and Rukia found themselves facing each other once again. Both were drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. Yato feared that Rukia would continue to see his memories and felt uncomfortable reliving hers. Even though he wanted to end the fight right then, something within him prevented him from backing down.

Rukia's Reiatsu kept increasing, causing Yato to question how she was continuously raising her spiritual pressure. He had faced lieutenants, captains, and though he knew Rukia was strong, he didn't expect her to be so powerful that she could make him feel cornered.

In response, Yato also increased his Reiatsu, and both advanced. At the moment their blades collided again, they saw each other's memories.

Rukia suddenly found herself in a dimly lit hospital room. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air, and the faint beeping of medical equipment created a haunting soundtrack. Her gaze fell upon a young man lying in a hospital bed, with curly, disheveled hair framing a pale, worn face. His frail form was connected to an array of machines, with tubes protruding from his arms, keeping him tethered to life. Beside him sat a woman with similarly curly, dark hair, her expression exhausted and worn. Her eyes were red, as if she had been crying for hours, but there was a softness in her gaze as she held the young man's hand, her thumb gently stroking his knuckles. The young man, despite his clear physical suffering, had a brave smile as he looked at the woman—his mother, Rukia supposed.

"How are you feeling?" the woman asked, her voice thick with emotion, barely hiding the tremor that revealed her fear.

Rukia felt the boy's pain, a wave of helplessness and fear washed over her as if it were her own. The fear that his life might end before it had truly begun dominated him, and yet, beneath that fear, there was a spark of defiance, a determination to face his fate with at least a shred of courage.

The boy grimaced humorously, trying to lighten the mood despite his condition. "My butt's numb from lying here for days," he joked, his weak laugh breaking the tension in the room and eliciting a faint smile from his mother.

A soft laugh escaped the woman, her lips curving into a small smile of gratitude, even as a tear slid down her cheek. It was a comment that seemed out of place for someone so fragile, but it struck Rukia with a strange familiarity. She could almost hear Yato saying something similar, trying to lighten the mood even in the most difficult circumstances.

Meanwhile, Yato was experiencing something equally intense. While fighting with Rukia, he was assaulted by memories that weren't his. He saw flashes of a time long past, a completely different world. He was in the rain, watching as the Shinigami named Kaien Shiba fell, impaled by a sword. Rukia's sword.

"Ah… Captain… thank you… for letting me fight…" Kaien said in a weak voice to Ukitake, who stood a few steps away.

"Ah…" was all the captain could manage, his shoulder bearing a few injuries.

"Kaien-dono…" Rukia said in a trembling voice, but despite the situation, Kaien embraced her as his arm seemed to disintegrate.

"Kuchiki… forgive me for involving you in this mess… This must have been frightening…" The lieutenant's voice grew weaker by the second. "Thank you… now I can… leave my heart behind…"

He felt her horror, her guilt, the overwhelming sense of responsibility for Kaien's death. The emotions were raw and intense, flooding his mind and nearly bringing him to his knees. Yato had always known that Rukia carried this burden, but to feel it so intensely, to experience the depth of her despair, was something entirely different.

Finally, their battle reached its climax. With one final, powerful strike, their zanpakutōs collided in a thunderous explosion of black and white energy. The force of the impact sent shockwaves through the air, shaking the very foundations of the ground beneath them. For a moment, it felt as though time itself had stopped. The world around them was bathed in a blinding light, their forms silhouetted against the radiance.

The memories that had flooded their minds began to accelerate, culminating in the moment when they had looked into each other's eyes for the first time. And then, silence. The light faded, leaving Yato and Rukia standing in the aftermath, their swords still locked together, their eyes fixed on each other, breaths coming in ragged gasps. Their reiatsu, which had flared so intensely, now began to calm, like a storm finally reaching its end.

As their swords finally separated, Rukia remained still while Yato took unsteady steps backward, averting his gaze once more. He seemed less tense, but there was still a discomfort in him. He didn't know what to say to Rukia and now feared what she might think of him.

With a long sigh, Rukia released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and soon, a sound caught her attention.

Once again, Yato's inner world echoed with a melody, and Rukia noticed a resemblance. It was similar to one of the melodies Yato had heard in his previous life. It was almost as if the songs he liked were rooted in his soul.

"Yato…" she called out to him, but he refused to lift his face. "You have no reason to look away."

'Of course I do...' he thought, still facing the ground, his eyes shut as he held back his tears. 'How can I face someone I've been treating as just a mere character, just like I did with everyone else?'

Rukia, as if hearing Yato's thoughts, took a step forward, her voice steady yet gentle. "You're wrong, Yato," she began, her eyes softening as she spoke. "You think you've been treating us like mere characters, just playing a role in a story you've seen before. But if that were true, you wouldn't have done the things you did."

Yato's body tensed, but he still couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze.

"You knew about the pain Tatsuki would go through," Rukia continued, her voice unwavering, "and you gave her powers so she could defend her friends. You knew I would be hurt fighting the Shrieker, and yet, you stepped in to protect me, even though it meant putting yourself in grave danger. You didn't have to do any of that. But you did."

She paused, allowing her words to sink in, watching as Yato's grip on his zanpakutō tightened. "You helped your friends grow stronger, even if it meant pushing them in ways they couldn't understand at the time. Yes, maybe you did it for your own reasons, but deep down, you couldn't stand to see us suffer."

Yato's breath caught in his throat. The truth in her words hit him hard, and the walls he had built around himself began to crack. He had always justified his actions as necessary, as part of some grand design or personal mission. But hearing Rukia lay it out so plainly, he realized that maybe, just maybe, there was more to it than that.

Rukia took a step closer, her hand reaching out but stopping just short of touching him. Her voice remained calm, though her words carried a weight that resonated deeply with Yato. "If you were really as selfish as you think you are," she continued, "you wouldn't have cared about the tragic fate of the Bounts. You wouldn't have been affected by their suffering, their desperation to survive in a world that rejected them. But you were. I saw it in your eyes, Yato. You felt for them, and that's not something a person who only sees others as mere characters would do."

Yato's expression faltered, the truth of her words sinking in even deeper. He had been haunted by the Bounts' plight. It wasn't something he could just brush aside, despite how much he had tried to convince himself otherwise.

"And this fear you have of the future," Rukia pressed on, "it's not because you don't know what's going to happen anymore. It's because you're scared of what might happen to the people around you, now that you've become a part of their lives. You're afraid of the consequences, of the pain they might suffer, because of your involvement."

Yato's breath hitched as the weight of her words pressed down on him. She was right... he wasn't afraid of the unknown future for himself. He was terrified of the impact his presence could have on the people he had come to care about.

"You're not just scared for yourself, Yato," Rukia said softly, taking another step closer to him. "You're scared for us, for everyone who's become a part of your world. That fear, that concern... it's proof that you're not as detached as you want to believe."

Yato's hands trembled as he processed her words. He had always thought of himself as an outsider, someone who could influence events from a distance without getting too involved. But the truth was, he was already deeply entangled in the lives of those around him, and that realization filled him with a sense of dread he hadn't been prepared for.

He finally looked up, his eyes wet with unshed tears, meeting Rukia's gaze. There was no judgment in her eyes, only understanding. The weight of his guilt, the burden of his choices, suddenly felt lighter under her steady gaze.

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the tension between them replaced by a shared understanding, a connection that went beyond words. Rukia could see it in his eyes the struggle between the person he thought he was and the person he truly was.

Rukia took a deep breath, letting the silence linger just a bit longer before speaking again. Her voice was soft but firm, carrying the weight of all that they had been through together.

"Yato," she began, "it's normal to be afraid." Her eyes never leaving his. "You are not a machine," Rukia continued, her voice unwavering. "You're not some tool meant to fulfill a role without feeling or hesitation. You're allowed to smile when you're happy, to cry when you're sad. That's what makes you human... It's okay to experience love, friendship, and companionship, even when it terrifies you. Because those are the things that make life worth living. Those are the bonds that remind us we're not alone." 

Yato's lips trembled as he struggled to hold back his tears. 

"And when you feel like you can't take it anymore," she said, her voice softening further, "when the weight of the world becomes too much, you'll have your friends to lean on. You'll have me to lean on."

Yato's tears finally broke free, spilling down his cheeks. He let out a shaky breath, the vulnerability he had been trying so hard to suppress finally surfacing.

Despite the tears that still shimmered in his eyes, Yato suddenly broke into a small, shaky smile. He wiped at his face with the back of his hand, trying to regain some composure, and then, with a playful glint in his eye, he looked at Rukia and said "You know, Rukia... that was incredibly cheesy."

Rukia's brow twitched, and a vein visibly pulsed on her forehead. Her hands clenched at her sides as she glared at him, clearly unimpressed with his attempt at humor in such a serious moment. "Cheesy?" she repeated, her voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and irritation. "I pour my heart out, and that's all you have to say?"

Yato couldn't help but chuckle, the sound a little watery but genuine. "Yeah, pretty much," he replied "But... it was the good kind of cheesy. The kind that... maybe I needed to hear."

Rukia's initial annoyance softened as she saw the sincerity in his smile. Before she could respond, Yato took a deep breath and added, "Thanks, Rukia. Really. I needed that more than I realized."

Rukia's frustration melted away at his sincerity, her expression relaxing as she let out a sigh. She crossed her arms and gave him a small, almost exasperated smile in return "You fool." she said, her voice gentler now, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as well.

A few meters away from the intense, emotionally charged scene between Yato and Rukia, a sleek, red-furred cat sat atop a crumbling stone wall, its tail flicking lazily from side to side. The cat's sharp eyes, gleaming like molten amber, watched the pair with a mixture of boredom and mild exasperation. The setting sun cast long shadows across the eerie, ethereal landscape of Yato's inner world.

The cat, Cheshire, sighed audibly, his ears twitching in frustration. His crimson fur shimmered under the fading light, casting a faint glow as he shifted his weight, clearly unimpressed by the slow progress unfolding before him. "Seriously... what does it take for something to happen?" he muttered, his voice a mixture of dry sarcasm and playful irritation. "I swear, those two..."

His tone softened as he reflected on the scene playing out before him. There was a fragile beauty in the moment, but Cheshire had seen enough of these interactions to grow impatient with their pace.

"At least those two are more honest with their feelings," Cheshire said under his breath, casting a sly glance toward a different part of the surreal, dreamlike space.

Not far from where Yato and Rukia stood, another scene unfolded, one much calmer and far more serene. The spirits of their Zanpakutōs, Ōkagetsu and Sode no Shirayuki, were a quiet contrast to the turmoil that gripped their wielders. Cheshire's gaze softened as he watched them, the sharpness in his eyes giving way to a more thoughtful expression.

Sode no Shirayuki, the embodiment of elegance and grace, sat perfectly poised in a traditional seiza position. Her long, flowing white robes shimmered like freshly fallen snow under the soft light of the world they inhabited, her form radiating calm and tranquility. Her back was straight, her posture impeccable, and her expression was one of quiet contentment. Despite the intensity of what was happening in the outer world, she remained unruffled, as though she had already foreseen the outcome.

Resting comfortably in Sode no Shirayuki's lap was Ōkagetsu, Yato's fiery and proud Zanpakutō spirit. The contrast between the two spirits was stark—where Sode no Shirayuki exuded calm, Ōkagetsu's presence usually burned with energy and intensity. But now, Ōkagetsu appeared utterly relaxed, a soft, peaceful smile gracing her face as she slept. Her long black hair spilled over Sode no Shirayuki's lap like a cascade of midnight, shimmering faintly in the ambient light of the inner world.

The red, intricately designed helmet that Ōkagetsu typically wore had been removed and placed gently beside them. It lay on the ground, gleaming faintly, a quiet testament to the bond between the two spirits. As Sode no Shirayuki gently ran her slender fingers through Ōkagetsu's hair.

Cheshire's tail swished thoughtfully as he watched the two spirits, his earlier frustration ebbing away in the face of their quiet connection. "Hmm... maybe they should take a lesson from them," he mused, his tone less sarcastic now, more contemplative. "At least they don't waste time pretending they're not important to each other."

Meanwhile, back in the external world, within the quiet confines of Yato's modest home, the scene mirrored the one unfolding in the inner world, though with a different kind of stillness. The room was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window, casting long, gentle shadows across the floor. The night was calm, a far cry from the turbulent emotions Rukia had felt earlier.

Rukia sat on the floor, her legs folded beneath her in the same graceful seiza position as Sode no Shirayuki. Her hands rested lightly in her lap, her face peaceful, though her mind was far from at ease. She was still processing everything that had transpired, the weight of Yato's memories lingering in her thoughts. Despite the chaos of the emotions that had passed between them, her body remained composed, a reflection of the inner calm she was trying to maintain.

And there, resting in her lap, was Yato.

Much like Ōkagetsu in Sode no Shirayuki's lap, Yato had fallen asleep, his head resting against Rukia's legs. His expression was no longer twisted with fear or anxiety. Instead, it was soft, vulnerable, as though sleep had finally offered him an escape from the storm of emotions that had consumed him earlier. His breathing was slow and steady, the tension in his body having melted away, leaving him at peace for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.

Rukia glanced down at him, her eyes softening as she watched him sleep. She could feel the rise and fall of his breath, the warmth of his body against her legs, and though she knew the battle they had just fought wasn't over, this moment of peace felt like a small victory.

Her hand, almost unconsciously, lifted and brushed a strand of hair from Yato's forehead, much like Sode no Shirayuki had done for Ōkagetsu. The gesture was tender, delicate, as if Rukia feared disturbing the fragile calm that had settled over them. The weight of their shared past was still present, but for now, it felt lighter, as though the understanding they had reached had created space for something more.

Outside the window, the wind whispered softly through the trees, the night wrapping around them like a protective cloak. And in the quiet of that moment, Rukia allowed herself to breathe, to let go of the turmoil that had filled the day, if only for a short while. She knew that when Yato woke, there would still be challenges ahead, questions left unanswered, fears to face, but for now, this small, serene moment was enough.

And just beyond the veil of the physical world, Cheshire watched the scene with a slight smirk, his earlier frustration forgotten. He sighed, shaking his head with a wry smile. "...Maybe there's hope for them after all."

With a soft chuckle, he stretched his little body once more, his tail flicking lazily before his body unraveled into red threads, content to leave the two souls to their much-needed rest.