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“Hey,” Rangiku prompts, placing herself beside Renji when the red-haired man’s chatting with other guests. There is a bag in her arms, containing a transparent bottle of chrysantemum sake, pretty and suitable for the event. “Congratulations on your wedding.”
“Oh. Thanks, Matsumoto-fukutaichou.” The aforementioned man smiles, reminding Rangiku of a boy behind the large body of a man whose one of his life purposes is to protect his childhood friend.
She says nothing in return, just smirking suggestively, and Renji blinks at that, his cheeks reddening. “What?”
“I mean it, you know,” she explains. “Now look at you, finally getting married to the love of your life.”
It wasn’t something that Renji kept as a secret, something that only could be revealed under the influence of alcohol, behind closed doors, or anything—and he’s terrible at that anyway—yet she, along with everyone, has always been watching him. There is always contentment when you look at someone’s accomplishment in loving, especially if that had been happening for years.
He thanks her again, glowing due to joyous atmosphere, and says genuinely between the noise of guests talking, “I hope you’ll find your happiness, too.”
Rangiku peers over at behind him, distracted by Rukia’s kimono in the midst of guests’ colorful clothes. It’s beautiful, so much it almost hurts, and the whiteness of it suddenly makes her think of Gin, of their first meeting during childhood, of the persimmon between her thumb and index finger nearing his mouth when she felt bold enough, of the nights they had spent together, of things that could’ve been, and she imagines the white kimono on her own body.
The impossibility causes her glossed lips to smile, rueful, because later she thinks of the betrayal and red spots on Gin’s white clothes, then of herself, coming alone to a wedding party yet emotionally unavailable after all this time.
The sake bottle in her arms feels heavier than before. She gives it quickly to Renji in fear that she might accidentally drop it.
“Yes,” she agrees, quite meaningless. Gin’s body is rotting somewhere. “I hope so.”