Hello there. I'm back with another Bleach story. This one came to me on a grey and rather yucky almost rainy morning, while it was still dark out. It was like, whoever's in control of the weather TOLD me to write this. Mother Nature? God? The plot bunnies?! We may not know, but it's most likely a combination of all three, mostly the plot bunnies.

I do not own Bleach. That belongs to the amazingly wonderfully talented Kubo Tite. My drawing skills could NEVER compare to his.

Night Rain

Some people liked the rain. They found the constant sighing of the rain therapeutic, indulging them with the relaxing noise. Some even liked it when there was a thunderstorm. Lightning dancing across the sky on spiders' legs to the beat of the drums thunder created, entertaining them with a show. At night, the rain could even act as a lullaby helping the listener slip into a dreamland.

Ichigo Kurosaki hated the rain. Take anything anyone could ever like about it, and he could flip around and turn it into something bad. Its constant downpour disrupted the day, and blocked out the sunlight casting the world into a bleak state of grey was depressing. The constant noise of heavy drops hitting the ground and shattering the silence never gave you a moment's peace, and neither did the thunder which was caused by lighting. It was the worst when it was raining at night, it was already pitch black outside why would you want to add rain? That only made it even more depressing.

Yes, Ichigo Kurosaki absolutely despised the rain. Even as a child it was something he had disliked. At age four he would stand at the window singing "Rain Rain, go Away" under his breath, and would persist getting louder each time the weather failed to comply. Now he would just sit in his room sulkier than usual. Scowling more and becoming even shorter tempered than he usually was.

Another time when he was younger he had heard somewhere that the rain was the sky letting go of its worries. Whoever had told him that had also told him that the sound of the rain was the sky sighing in contentment; happy to be so carefree. He had never believed this. He had always thought that rain must have been the teardrops of the people in heaven, mourning one thing or another. Dead people can be sad too, can't they?

Had anyone ever asked him why he hated the rain so much he would have told them that it was because the rain took everything good away and never gave anything good back. To put it simply, bad things happened when it rained.

His mother had died when it had been raining. He had lost his fight to King Fisher while it was raining. When Rukia had left him that night, to willingly go to her execution the sky had opened up unleashing a cold and stinging rain.

Yes, for Ichigo Kurosaki the rain symbolized everything he had ever lost. His mother, his revenge, and even his best friend. He never expected the rain to give him anything.

So that's why on October 12 at midnight in the pouring rain, he did not expect for his wife to give birth to a perfectly healthy baby girl.

Ichigo watched Rukia as she cradled the tiny child in her arms. Wrapped in a pink blanket the baby cooed at her mother making happy gurgling noises. "She's beautiful" Rukia whispered quietly.

"Yeah" Ichigo's reply was somewhat choked by the lump in his throat.

"Would you like to hold her?" Rukia asked him softly.

He nodded yes, and she transferred the little girl into her husband's arms. He held her as though she were fragile glass, and would break with the slightest movement. She kicked her small feet with surprising strength and it amazed him that something so small could be so energetic and full of life. He had helped create this? It seemed impossible that this small, delicate, perfect child was his.

The baby gazed up at her father with large curious violet-blue eyes that matched her mothers. To him it seemed almost as though she were scrutinizing him, making sure that this man who held her would be able to pull off the responsibility to be her father. He knew it was probably his imagination, but it made him nervous. It was funny that he should want this baby's approval when it didn't even know how to say 'ma ma' yet.

The baby squirmed again and managed to free one of her hands, it was no bigger than a coin. With it she reached up towards Ichigo, and she began to make her gurgling noises again. That rare smile began to spread across Ichigo's face. Slowly it turned into a full out grin.

"Hi" he whispered down at the little bundle in his arms.

The baby only cooed back, but he took it as a response anyways.

Rukia watched as her husband held their daughter. The look on his face was one of curiosity, amazement, fear, and pride. After a while the baby began to make gurgling noises again and reached up towards him. When she did Rukia saw the smile growing on Ichigo's face, it brought tears of joy to her eyes. Damn hormones, she thought wiping the tears away with the back of her hand.

"What should we name her?" Rukia asked.

Ichigo never tore his gaze away from the baby but began to think. He and Rukia had never settled on a name for their baby while she was pregnant. They had gone through a million names, but none had seemed to fit. The only thing they had settled on is that if the baby was a girl the child's middle name would be Masaki, after Ichigo's mother.

After a while he came up with a name that considering the circumstances seemed best. "Amaya" he said. Amaya, meaning 'night rain' like the weather conditions under which she was born.

"Amaya Masaki Kurosaki," Rukia tried the name out. "It fits."

Throughout his life the rain had never given Ichigo Kurosaki anything. It had always taken things away from him, and now was the time for it to give back. Because now, Ichigo Kurosaki loves the rain, and all it brings with it.

It is done! And can it be? It's longer than 600 words! Oh my God, it's a sign of the apocalypse, or maybe I'm just getting better at writing. At least… I hope I am. This was one of the harder ones for me write and the longest. It was mostly the beginning I had trouble with. I knew what I wanted to write about but god it was really hard to get down on paper! Also don't ask me how I got from rain, to babies. I don't completely know, but I could try and explain it to you if you don't get it.

Tell me what you think please! Constructive criticism is craved.