She eyed his face. A small vibe lurched from her stomach. And then a slight churn rumbled, causing her to groan in disgust.

"How? How can you eat like... that?"

It struck Ichigo's mind that Rukia's highly aristocratic lifestyle had greatly affected her viewpoint in life. He lowered the stick in his hand to answer her, not bothering to wipe off the smudge near his lips. He stared at her blankly, conflicting with Rukia's slight tension from the situation.

"I don't get your point," Ichigo said, "Is it wrong for me to eat a hotdog?"

"O-of course!" Rukia pointed. "Shouldn't you put that in a plate and eat it with complementary rice? Isn't that how you people usually eat?"

Ichigo sighed. "I know you've been here in Karakura for just a few weeks, but you can't possibly be serious about what you're saying?"

Rukia fumed. He just couldn't understand what she had meant that it was inappropriate to smear sauces on food and eat it from a wooden stick. It seemed so unsanitary.

"Of course I'm serious. What if you get sick eating off of that dirty stick?"

Ichigo took a wistful glance at his half-eaten hotdog and faced her again with a brow raised. "How can this be dirty? I'm sure they clean it before they serve it to people, otherwise everyone would've been down with a nasty disease."

The thought of it ran the bile up Rukia's throat. She disposed of her ill thoughts and shoved the matter at hand. Ichigo rubbed the back of his head and threw the half-eaten hotdog-on-a-stick in his hand inside a trash bin. "Happy now?" Ichigo grouched.


"How is it, Rukia?"

Rukia was pleasingly munching on her well-prepared meal – a bowl of rice, together with three strips of chicken and vegetables on the side. The taste was exceptional in terms of her recent indulgences. This meal was different from the rest due to its perfect recipe and she couldn't help but form a smile on her lips as she took another bite. Kaien sure can cook.

"It's quite delicious."

Rukia felt two eyes swerving as she gobbled on her food continuously. It felt as if she was being observed, and to this realization she halted her eating and stared at the young fukutaichou in front of her.

"You sure eat a lot, Rukia."

A faint trace of scarlet rose from her cheeks. She halted and stared blankly outside the door, the gleams of sunlight penetrating through the thick, shady trees. Kaien stared at the smear that procured near her lips, and chuckled.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about. You should know that." Kaien grinned at her flush and she bit her lip.

"Stop making me nervous," she said, wiping her face with a napkin. She attempted it with a more refined manner, but Kaien only thought of it as a joke. "There's no need for extreme formalities. Go ahead and act more like a human from time to time – it looks better on you."

She stared at him as the piece of napkin she clutched with her hand hovered over her cheeks. She understood what it meant, and she felt glad.


It was laundry day. It was probably one of the more difficult days in the week for Ichigo with his new friend. A week ago, Yuzu specifically asked him why he had a girl's uniform tucked between his clothes. He had to get the most probable reason for that, and the awkwardness that Yuzu felt for him grew. It was a good time to get a better plan before Yuzu gets the wrong idea about him – and unfortunately, he was wonderfully endowed with the duty of laundry – once, every week, of his sick life.

"Your laundry please, Rukia," Ichigo commanded. Rukia slid open the closet door and dumped all of her clothes on the basket that Ichigo held. He heaved for a moment as the pile of clothes grew heavier, and then gently placed it on the floor. He blatantly removed the shirt of his back and added it on the basket, the slight exposition making Rukia flush.

"Ichigo!" Rukia snatched the nearby magazine on Ichigo's desk and delivered a strike to Ichigo's head. "What do you think you're doing?"

Ichigo groaned from the pain and formed a scowl. "I'm just putting my laundry on basket! You didn't need to hit me like that."

"But... why did you just take it off in front of me? There's a bathroom, you know!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ichigo answered sarcastically, "It's just that this is my room, and I have every damn right to do whatever I want in here!"

She growled – she had never been so furious with Ichigo's rude behavior. "Shut the hell up!" She returned to her save haven, the closet, and shut the door, uttering a loud thud. Ichigo's steps echoed through the empty space, his angry pace clearly evident.


"Hey Rukia," Kaien said, alerting the dozy Shinigami in front of him, "Which of these should I pick?"

He presented two kimonos that draped over his arms – one with a classical, auburn shade, and another of a royal purple that seemed smooth as silk.

"The later one looks more distinguishing," she pointed towards the right – the purple one.

"Really? I kind of thought this was a bit too much, but, if you say so. Guess I should try it on first."

He was about to remove his black garb when he stopped – it occurred to him that he was in front of Rukia, who certainly would feel uncomfortable seeing him like this.

"Oh, I apologize. Nearly forgot that you were here," Kaien said, rubbing the back of his head. He grinned and looked embarrassed, but Rukia didn't care. He went to the other room to change and when he came back, he had already dressed himself with the purple kimono she decided upon.

"You look..." She searched around her head for the perfect word, and arrived at a very simple one. "Good."

"Oh really? I was betting on 'fantastic' or 'gorgeous', or maybe even 'handsome', but just 'good'? That sucks. But hey, I guess I have nothing to lose then." He made that awkward yet charming smile again, and Rukia couldn't help but stare at him as he looked himself in the mirror, eyeing specifically on the genuine smile that was plastered on his face.

"Kaien... I don't really think this is all necessary for a wedding. Even your wife says you're going overload with it. What's with all the preparations?"

"It's my special day, Rukia," Kaien replied as he fitted the garb on himself, "Marriage doesn't happen everyday, you know."

"I... understand," Rukia whispered. She felt cold, like the winter arrived early for her. Why did she feel so awkward like this? Perhaps, truly, she was never meant to belong.


"I still can't believe you sent me all the way out here," Ichigo complained. He swiped the sweat of his face and sat on the park bench just around the corner. Once again, he arrives and not a Hollow is in sight. It was obvious that someone had picked it off before he even got a chance, and it was likely to be something easily disposed of. Besides, Zennosuke was the only one left here in Karakura besides him.

Rukia was following after Ichigo. For once, she was relaxed. He couldn't even see a hint of anger rustling up from her face after his statement.

"Sorry about that. Guess we're a bit too late already." She sat beside him.

She stared at the orange-dipped sky – the sun was diving through the trees, the shafts of light penetrating through the thick greenery and landing on the cold grass. She rarely appreciated nature like this, but with Ichigo, she grew a liking on it.

"Don't you think that looks beautiful?"

Rukia's eyes widened as she turned her head towards him. He was staring idly on the soft grass, the beams of light still showering through them.

"What? Am I being soft for you now? Should I harden up or something?" Ichigo was acting up again, but Rukia had another thing in mind.

"You don't need to," she answered him. She rested her head upon his shoulders, craving his warmth. She didn't feel embarrassed or rude. She just felt a bit needy that time.

Ichigo wrapped his arm around her neck, and she gladly took shelter in them – she wanted to tell him that she had liked him all along, and his rudeness didn't bother her. Yet, words did not leave her lips. Only a breath of air that escaped through her mouth was heard.

"You don't need to tell me anything. I understand."

Rukia grinned.

He's rude. He's gross. He's not even a noble. But for every moment that she shared with him, even the thought of it all would never hinder the joy she felt in his arms.