A Little Black Poetry Book
IchiRuki
A/N: Hey guys! I know, I know, you all are hoping for updates. And I promise they'll be soon! Please stick with me! But here is a short, little fic that just needed to be written. What can I say? I love them together, though it will never happen. Gods, Tite Kubo can't we have just a little romance? Anywayz, please, please review; I would really appreciate your thoughts!
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. If I did, IchiRuki would be cannon, Ulquiorra would still be alive, Izuru would be tortured by Gin all the time and Aizen would be dead. LoL!
A/N #2: Thanks a million and a half times over to my bestest friend in the entire world, 4everbrisingr for putting these up on fanfiction for me! I love you! (You guys should check out her profile because she's pretty amazing!)
A Little Black Poetry Book
Rukia Kuchiki sniffled. This "being sick" stuff sure wasn't fun. But how was she supposed to know her gigai could catch colds? This was her first excursion to the human world after all. And Urahara had conveniently forgotten to mention this fact to her. Grrr, she would have to have a few choice words with him later, when her words didn't sound as if she had her fingers constantly pinching the bridge of her nose. Rukia sniffed again and groaned. Perhaps splashing around in those puddles yesterday hadn't been the greatest idea. But it had seemed like so much fun at the time! It had rained for the first time since she had been in the human world and though it rained in Soul Society, it seemed different here for some reason. Happier. She had watched a bunch of little kids splashing around and couldn't resist joining in. They acted as if they were having the time of their lives and their enthusiasm was catching. So, she had jumped about in the puddles laughing like a madwoman, while Ichigo stood by shaking his head and calling her "one crazy midget." That one had earned him a kick in the shins.
And now she was at home, stuck with this horrible cold. Ichigo wasn't much help either. She had woken up that morning with a sore head and a stuffed up nose and all he said was that it was her fault! He wasn't the slightest bit sympathetic! He had refused to stay home with her as well. Even when she had given him her most pathetic puppy dog eyes. He had just patted her on the head, told her to be good, and went off to school with Keigo and Mizuiro. Rukia sighed. It was just like him to leave her all alone, the big jerk!
She walked over to the bookcase to try and find something to alleviate her boredom. Who knew being sick was utterly boring? There was nothing on TV but reruns and soap operas, she couldn't sleep because she was too congested, and there was no point in trying to catch up on her schoolwork since she was sure to be leaving in a few months anyway. So, in short, Rukia Kuchiki was bored, dead bored.
Running her fingers along the spines of the books, she skipped past the typical "boy books." There was some manga, but she had already read them. She stopped when she came to a spiral notebook. Frowning, she pulled it out. What was this doing here? She had seen Ichigo carrying ones like these to school; he used them to take notes. Perhaps he had forgotten this one? I should take it to him, Rukia thought, he'll be upset when he finds out he's missing it. Rukia stood up, too fast. Whoa, she gasped, her head spinning. Maybe I'll take it to him later. Let's see if it's anything important first.
Sitting on Ichigo's bed, her legs tucked up under her, Rukia opened to the first page.
Like a butterfly moving through the summer air,
She is graceful even in absolute stillness.
When she does move,
Ballerinas everywhere could cry.
A more beautiful, delicate creature you could not find
If you dared to try.
Rukia's mouth fell open in surprise. Ichigo was a poet? Who would've ever thought that? Intrigued, she turned the page, eager for more. Some part of her knew this was wrong, that she was intruding on personal territory, invading his private thoughts, but she couldn't help herself.
Some days, I find myself missing you
Some days, I could almost cry
Some days, it feels like you're a thousand miles away
But some days, I know you're right here
Some days, I hear your laugh and feel your embrace in the warm sunshine
And on those days, I know you love me
Mom
There were splotches on this page. Tears, Rukia assumed. She felt a pang of sadness in her heart for Ichigo, the poor boy who had lost his mother so young. He really did suffer a lot, though he let no one see it. Feeling guilty now, Rukia turned the page. Just one more, she promised herself, and then I'll stop…
She's a mystery to me
Never doing what I expect
She's a mystery to me
And I don't even try to understand
The way she talks, the way she acts, the way she moves
Why does she have this effect on me?
It's a mystery to me
Why she makes my palms sweat, my heart race
It's a mystery to me
Why she can stand there so calm while I'm over here stammering like an idiot
She's a mystery to me
One that I cannot solve
There he went, talking about some girl again. Who could it be? Rukia mused over this as she leaned back against the headboard. Orihime? The girl had made clear her feelings for Ichigo quite some time ago, but Ichigo hadn't been acting any different. Perhaps he was shy. Rukia smirked. She'd have to tease him about that later.
Sighing Rukia got up and stretched, turning to look out the window. The sun was on its way down from the highest point in the sky. Ichigo would be returning soon. Rukia sniffed, but her head felt much better. Perhaps I'll be able to return to school tomorrow she thought. Turning back to the poetry book, she felt a small wave of sadness. She didn't know why, but the last poem had made her feel melancholy. I'm just being silly she told herself. It doesn't matter to me who the poems are about. I don't have feelings for Ichigo. Do I? The question came into her mind unbidden and Rukia instantly responded with a resounding negative. Are you sure? Asked a small part of her mind. Why else would the poems make you feel that way? "I don't know," Rukia said aloud. "But I don't have feelings for him! Who could love that big orange-haired jerk anyway?" You could, the voice answered. "Shut up," Rukia ordered. "No one asked you. And just to prove it, I'll read another poem. And it won't bother me. In fact, I would be happy for the two of them." The voice stayed silent and Rukia, chagrined that she was talking aloud to herself like a crazy person, opened the notebook.
With eyes like glittering violets
And ebony hair shinning in the moonlight
A more beautiful woman there never was
Her dainty, delicate features
And lack of height
A more adorable girl there never was
Not afraid to say what she thinks
Not afraid of anything
Someone I love more there never was
Tis the truth, I love her
And who does that damned noble think she is making me feel this way?
Rukia could almost see Ichigo's smirk as he wrote that last line. But that thought only occupied a small part of her brain. The rest was filled with the realization that the poems were about her. Ichigo liked her! No, he loved her! Mind reeling, she happened to glance out the window and see Ichigo coming up the street. Working quickly, Rukia scribbled a note of her own in the book for him to find later and slipped it back onto the shelf. She slipped back into the closet and under her covers. She would pretend to be asleep when Ichigo came in. She needed time to process her revelation. As she lay in the darkness of the closet, Rukia couldn't stop the big, soppy smile that spread its way across her face. See? The voice spoke up again. You do love him. Oh shut up, Rukia told it. But it was a good natured reprimand. She did love Ichigo. It had just taken her awhile to realize it. "Rukia?" She heard Ichigo's quiet inquiry. Rolling over, Rukia kept up the ruse of sleep. She heard the closet door slide open and then she felt Ichigo's hand on her forehead in a surprisingly tender gesture. "Well, at least your fever is gone," she heard him mutter as the door slid closed again. Rukia smiled again, as she drifted off.
As the sun was setting over the rooftops of Karakura Town, Ichigo pulled his notebook off the bookshelf. Opening to the last page, he was about to write when something caught his eye. There was writing on the back of the last page he had used. That's odd, he thought. He normally didn't use the backs of pages. Frowning, he read the words
With hair like sunset
And a scowl that is quite the opposite
The man I love is full of contradictions
With a sword that can vanquish most hollows
And a heart that can love and protect his little sisters
The man I love is full of opposites
Tis the truth I love him
And who does this damn substitute shinigami think he is for making me feel this way?
Ichigo looked down at the page in shock. Someone had gone through his personal things! There was only one person who could've done this. "Rukia," Ichigo said.
"Yes?" came the response from just behind him. Ichigo yelped in surprise then turned to glare at the person in question.
"Did you read this?" he asked angrily, gesturing with the notebook clutched in his left hand.
"Only the first four," Rukia defended herself. "And they were quite good," she added in a softer voice.
"And," Ichigo asked in a much different voice. "Did you write this?" He was obviously referring to the poem on the last page.
"Yes," Rukia said again. "I did."
"Is it true?"
Blushing slightly, Rukia nodded that it was.
Blushing himself, Ichigo stammered, "Uh, w-well, you see…that is…"
Rukia smirked. "Come here, idiot." As Ichigo walked over to her, she stretched up on her tiptoes and brought her lips to his. Surprised, but definitely not complaining, Ichigo returned the kiss eagerly. Her wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him. When they broke apart, both were blushing, but smiling.
"I love you Rukia."
"I love you too, idiot." Ichigo smirked as he again captured her lips with his own.