Chapter Text
"Please marry my son for me,"
It wasn't something that you just blurted out of the blue to someone else and yet Masaki did. She did ask Rukia and Rukia might think that she wasn't serious–that this dying lady on a hospital bed probably just lost her head over her sickness and started talking nonsense.
So the young, beautiful Kuchiki smiled and laughed softly as she placed the plate full of apples on the table next to Masaki's bed.
"You don't want me as a daughter-in-law, Masaki-san,"
And Masaki watched as Rukia-chan's pretty lips curved into a smile but her eyes were hiding something else.
Masaki frowned. Who wouldn't want Rukia as a daughter-in-law? There were solid reasons why Masaki was so obsessed with this young lady she had just known for two months.
Rukia Kuchiki was a beauty inside and outside. It wasn't just the extremely beautiful face, it wasn't just the elegant aura that surrounded her all the time that made the young lady so worthy of being called a queen, it was her beautiful heart that really caught Masaki's heart.
And it was just a bonus that she had the whole package; smart (Rukia graduated business from a prestigious university in Boston), and successful (not only did she work for her family's business, she also owned some restaurants and boutique), and although Masaki didn't even care about where she came from, her third daughter Rukia-chan did come from a good family.
And Rukia-chan shook her head, she only sighed and she was already so busy with that PDF on her tablet, Masaki saw a glimpse of choices of empty houses and buildings on sale–because she was about to build a huge guest house close to the hospital, for the poor patients and caretakers seeking for cancer treatment in the hospital who came from the far countryside. Free guest house, all for charity.
She had the purest soul.
She was perfect. And Masaki loved her.
"Anyone would be lucky to have you as their daughter-in-law," Masaki said, her voice low and her tone serious. "Any guy would be the luckiest guy on earth to have you by his side,"
–my son included, Masaki left the words unsaid.
"And you're too kind, Masaki-san," she shook her head again, and even though she still looked amused, her eyes couldn't lie. Masaki saw it again. The glimpse of sadness and loneliness and coldness behind her violet orbs as she scrolled her tablet up and down, up and down.
If there was one thing that this young lady in front of her lacked, it was confidence. And the coldness planted in her heart.
And Masaki. Masaki badly wanted to change it. If she could be the sun that warmed her entire family, she wanted her warmth to reach Rukia-chan too.
They told her, they told their family that, the 5-year survival for advanced breast cancer like hers was 29%. That was the statistics. The number meant that only 29% of patients with advanced breast cancer could live at least 5 years after the diagnosis. Just one-third. Could Masaki be one of them?
Five years. That was so little time. And Masaki wanted to see his son get married, and have a baby with the woman he loved, and then if God was being generous enough to her, maybe she could live long enough to see Karin and Yuzu walk down the aisle too.
If. Not when.
In these last few years she got to be alive, Masaki wondered, did sick people like her get to be selfish? Did she deserve to get what she wanted and have people agree to whatever it was she was asking? She was suffering. She was in pain. She only wanted to leave with good memories.
Masaki knew the year was already 2020. What kind of a mom still judged the woman that her only son was seeing? Even to Asian standards, the era had changed. What kind of a mom still vocally voiced her disdain toward a woman that his son was seeing? What kind–
"She isn't coming again, I see…"
Masaki watched as her son rumpled his already messy spiky hair in almost frustration.
"Not two months ago, not a month ago, not two weeks ago, not today–" Masaki's voice almost cracked. It was her sickness, or just parents growing old in general–they became even more sensitive, seeking attention from their grown-up kids.
"The girl my son has been seeing for, what, 4 or 6 months? Doesn't even want to spare a little of her time to see me–your mother who is dying–"
Ichigo groaned. "Mom…"
Is it wrong to be selfish?
"Okay, you want my honest opinion? I don't like her, Ichigo." Masaki blurted it out stubbornly and threw her arms in the air, "Call me traditional, call me anything, but a mother's hunch about these things is never wrong and I–"
"Mom, can we not…" Ichigo was tired. He was tired after a long day at work. And his mom just had to pick a fight with him about this now.
"Not this again," He pinched the bridge of his nose and he could already feel the tension creeping into the muscles of his neck, back, and head. "Please," His plea sounded rough. He was just that tired.
"Well, I am sorry for wanting to get to know this girl my son has been seeing," Masaki's amber eyes hardened. Her voice cracked again.
"I am sorry for wanting a little bit of attention, just a little bit of attention to show me that the girl you're going to bring into our family doesn't mind having, or God forbid, take care of a troublesome and dying mother-in-law,"
Masaki knew from Karin and Yuzu that Ichigo had a lot of fights with this girl he had been seeing because he spent more time with Masaki in the hospital rather than going out with her.
And all Masaki could think about was that she never wanted to have to compete with her daughter-in-law for her son's affection. It was the worst kind of relationship a mother-in-law could possibly have with her daughter-in-law.
"Don't say things like that," Ichigo's anger rose slightly but he loved Masaki more than anything and Masaki knew while her son was intimidating, when it came to her, Ichigo was the softest son a mom could ask for.
"It has been two months, Ichigo. It has been two months since I am bedridden on this bed, lonely and actually desperate for company in this room, and she doesn't even want to pay me a little visit?"
Ichigo didn't utter a thing and Masaki knew she was right. It was not that that girl–Senna, was it?–couldn't make time, she just didn't want to.
"And yet, a stranger–that's the word you used–"
Ichigo sighed again. His strong arms gripped the edge of the table next to Masaki's bed, his head hung low, and his eyes were covered by his bangs. And Masaki was hurt by his tired and fed-up demeanor. Like he didn't want to hear another series of Masaki's rambling about how the daughter-in-law of her dreams.
"–a stranger actually gives her time to keep me company, when she has no relations whatsoever with me and this family–"
"Didn't we agree that you needed to stop comparing her to your friend?" Ichigo asked coldly, finally looking up at Masaki.
Masaki held her tongue. Why couldn't her son understand what she wanted?
And it was silent all over again.
"Look at me, Ichigo," Masaki sounded stern, her eyes–the same eyes Ichigo had–tried to read whatever expression it was on her son's face.
Amber met amber.
"Look at me and tell me, do you even love her?"
And it was so clear to her what his answer was. Where her son's heart was. He never loved her. Ichigo had never had any feelings for anyone before. Then what was he doing with her? Was it just for convenience? Because his mom had been bugging him to get married and this… this poor girl–this Senna girl, his secretary of all people–just willingly obliged?
"Oh," she sounded angry and disappointed, "Kurosaki Ichigo," Masaki's anger rose again and she slapped her son multiple times on the back–not that hard, Ichigo barely felt anything.
"What are you even doing?" Masaki whispered. "I didn't raise you to be that kind of a man."
Ichigo didn't say anything. He looked away and didn't even bother to correct his mom. Because no, he wasn't the kind of a man his mom implied. He wasn't trying to mess around. He actually liked Senna, although he didn't know why he wasn't crazy about her or that he couldn't call it love–not when he didn't feel it.
"What do you want me to do?" Ichigo finally voiced his opinion out loud. His mom was being difficult and he tried to understand but sometimes she was just that unbearable when she was being like this. "Do I even still have a say in this?" his amber eyes hardened too.
"End things with her," Masaki never knew she could sound that cold and harsh. "If you can't marry her for love, Ichigo, spare her the pain and call it over."
Ichigo scoffed. He was rude, but never to Masaki–never Masaki, "And then what, Mom? Just get married to that Rukia as you've always wanted?"
A flash of hurt crossed Masaki's amber eyes and Ichigo regretted opening his mouth in the first place. Her amber eyes were deadly cold and tears started dwelling at the bottom of her orbs.
It was always what Masaki wanted. She wanted her son to get to know Rukia, and she knew a mother's feeling about this was rarely wrong, she just knew that Rukia-chan was perfect for Ichigo, and someone who never fell in love like Ichigo would be crazy about her. Masaki just knew.
"That Rukia?" Masaki whispered. it was clear that she was taken aback by her son's rude demeanor toward her.
Ichigo looked away again, clearly regretting how rude he sounded before.
"That Rukia has always been there when my busy kids aren't–" when Ichigo was too busy at the company, and Yuzu and Karin weren't there.
"Mom–"
"That Rukia holds my hair when I throw up, she helps me eat when every food in this hospital makes me want to puke, she shows me that life–no matter how brief–is worth fighting and living for, Ichigo–"
"I am way, way older than her, and yet I learn from her. I learn. Every single day. My selfish self learns from a young lady–young enough to be my own daughter–how to live for other people–"
"That Rukia you said," Masaki said these in whispers, but it felt like she was screaming at the top of her lungs, "She listens to my pain, understands my grief, and actually makes my worst days in this place bearable–"
Ichigo sighed and tried to stop his mother before the fight got too far but Masaki was crying. Ichigo tried to hold her hand but she pulled away and it broke Ichigo's heart into a million pieces.
"I changed my mind," then Masaki said it–the words that made Ichigo realize how much he had failed to make her mom happy and proud, "That Rukia is way too good for you, Ichigo,"
Ichigo had never known a heartbreak like this before.
There was a saying that said, "those closest to us hurt us the most."
After that fight he had with his mom, Ichigo got into another fight with his dad who was not happy at all to hear that the only son Masaki loved so much had made her cry. This was a difficult time for everyone in the family. They were all in different phases of grief; denial, anger, bargaining, and depression, and none of them reached acceptance.
That fight he had with his mother changed Ichigo. He swore on his soul that he would never make his mom cry like that again. He swore that the only purpose he should have in life was to make sure that Masaki would leave with the best memories.
For a month after his fight with his mother, Ichigo just couldn't shake the thought of a certain someone he met in the elevator a month ago. He was never good with remembering names or faces. But he remembered those violet orbs, and those flowers in her arms–yellow roses, sunflowers, and pink tulips.
They said it takes only a second for something to happen and change your life and make you question everything you've ever known.
A month after he ended whatever it was he had with Senna (because his mom was right, he never loved her, he never had any feelings for her), Ichigo chose to take that one second now and grabbed his car keys, and just left whatever work he had on his huge desk.
"You're leaving already?" Senna asked from her secretary's desk in front of Ichigo's office but her words were only replied to by a half-hearted wave from her ex or something. Her face fell but she knew better these days. Like he cared. Like he ever cared.
Ichigo left at exactly 6 PM on a Tuesday. He never got off work that early before. But he chose today, 6 PM on a Tuesday–
–because no matter how much he acted like an uncaring asshole that didn't care to listen to anything that didn't concern him, Ichigo did pay attention.
He knew she was there for his mom every Tuesday and Thursday, that she usually came to visit at 5 PM and left around 7 or 7.30 PM.
The traffic at this rush hour was crazy and Ichigo sighed as he watched the hour click to 07:15 on his car display. He didn't realize it but he was sitting straighter, and he couldn't stop tapping his steering wheel, and he just kept looking at the traffic light to turn green–looking back and forth between the light and the time on his car display.
He was being nervous and for what?
As the light turned green, his Mercedes Benz made a smooth racing sound as it started moving on its way to the hospital.
He was late, wasn't he?
He wasn't going to meet her this Tuesday, was he?
7.31 PM. The elevator opened, The nurses that were familiar with his face already greeted him, "good evening, Mr. Kurosaki, a little bit early today?"
Ichigo gave them a polite nod and he didn't even know why he almost jogged to his mom's room–just like he didn't realize why he was panting for air because he jogged too from the parking lot to the elevator.
25B. Masaki Kurosaki.
Still clad in his working attire–a blue dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, first button undone–Ichigo sighed (he was nervous and what for?) and he was about to open the door and–
The door opened before he grabbed the handle and Ichigo was faced with the deepest and the most beautiful amethyst eyes he had ever seen–
He wasn't late.
She was still here.
(She was dressed in a casual white dress in contrast to her bleeding-red flat shoes–holding that handbag from the most expensive brand on her other arm).
She was about to leave but she was still here.
They both held their gaze on each other and Ichigo said it first–
"Hey,"
The first word he uttered to the girl who was soon to be the love of his life was that stupid 'hey' (and did he sound like a freaking douche?)
And that Rukia held her confused and surprised gaze on him and tilted her head and blinked a few times, and Ichigo didn't know why he felt even more nervous under her gaze. It wasn't even some kind of an intimidating gaze. She looked confused (maybe she was confused of why he was this close to gasping for air from all this hurry).
Then she finally replied with a voice deeper than Ichigo imagined, "Hey,"
(Ichigo remembered what he thought of her that day–the same thing that crossed his mind when he saw her at the elevator back then; the very same thought he still had to this day–it never changed–
–Ichigo thought Rukia had always been that beautiful).