Since I've been hit by a IchiRuki idea-tide, I'll be doing a series of drabbles for them ^.^ Will not be connected unless mentioned C: All sorts of genres

Discl.: Me no own Bleach xD

Ichigo used to be very worried that when he ended high school and moved from the town to probably go study in a more prestigious university than the local ones, Rukia would go back to the Soul Society, waltz away from his life just as it began to be perfect. He'd spend nights turning around in his bed, twisting the sheets, thinking, trying to imagine how it'd be the life of university and then adulthood without seeing his friends as often. He'd think and try and then the blankets will be bundled up and then she'd come from the closet and beat him up because 'I can't sleep with you awake and moving, you idiot.'

The size of his relief when he understood that she'd go with him to the same university, no matter which it was, surprised even him. Not that anyone noticed. Well, probably she noticed too (after all, what didn't Rukia notice?), but didn't say anything regardless. He was happy, really, really happy that she'd be with him, even if the reason for her staying back was 'to continue the research for the Soul Society.' Even with that.

Of course they'd have to kick some nice Hollow ass (what was life without action?) and such stuff but all the big threats have been eliminated. It was nice to think that way.

However enrolling in the same university had been hard. Apart from them not agreeing to the type university, their majors, and getting into a yelling fight while Ishida and Inoue and Chad were covering their ears in exasperation, the exam they chose was hard. Well, for Ichigo anyway. Because he was sure Rukia had a small device that connected her to the geniuses of her homeland (of course that wasn't true, she later reasoned with him, would she taint the dignity of the Kuchiki family in such a way? That even he thought as a reasonable excuse.)

That wasn't the end of the problems. The university they enrolled in was quite hard and soon they found themselves unable to stand up from all the homework waiting to be done and lessons to be learned. They barely had time to eat – not to mention tend to the small apartment. And so it wasn't a big surprise when one day they woke up without any clean dishes. And it was a day with not as much homework. Damn his luck.

Ichigo stared at the pile in the sink. It looked terrifying. Now that he had almost nothing to do, it looked too big and smelly to be ignored. He batted away a random fly.

"Rukia?"

"Hmmm?" she was drawing something intently again and apparently wasn't paying attention to him. Again. Damn girl.

"Wash the dishes."

Startled out of her reverie, the girl put away the pen and looked up to him, eyes incredulous. Said eyes then travelled to the unfortunate pile, then switched them to him, then to the pile again and finally to him.

"What?" probably she intended the question to be intimidating, like some sort of an old woman, who was too lazy to stand up. Her look was sort of scary, though. But Ichigo hadn't cut through so many opponents for nothing. He had courage.

Yeah, right.

"I told you to wash the dishes," he repeated, fuming a little at her. After all she was the girl – what did she expect? He. To do the dishes? That was a funny thought.

"And why should I do that?" she brushed away a black strand with all the dignity she could muster and batted away another flies. Seriously, where did these come from? It wasn't like it was boiling hot.

"Well," Ichigo trailed on, a sense of 'duh' lacing his tone, "You're the woman in the household, after all."

A small vein popped on her forehead and her eyes narrowed.

"So what if I'm a woman? How does that affect things?"

"A normal woman will stay home and tend to the house, which includes dishwashing!"

"I'm not a normal woman, after all," she pouted and crossed her arms, glaring at him. Her peaceful drawing was now interrupted and she couldn't return to it. Great. Just great. Perfect.

"Yeah," he just snickered, "you're a woman with a boy's body."

"You. Just. Did. Not. Go. There."

…

Mr. Kimura was a peaceful, nice, overall the perfect employee of the dishware shop he was working on. He had the perfect charisma and the sweetest of voices – with that combination he was able to ease up any sort of client, even the grumpiest. That, paired up with his excellent memory, made the monetary amount of the shop rise to the heavens of the charts – clients always returned to him.

Of course he remembered that strange pair. They were strange in every way – the boy wasn't acting gentlemanly toward the girl, but she wasn't all sunshine and smiles. The two had almost resorted to violence, but a small remark of him had stopped them. Not only were they a challenge to his career of calming people, but the girl (who was apparently the commander) had strange tastes too – she'd fallen in love with a bunny dishware that Mr. Kimura thought he'd never see sold.

Later on, he heard the women comment on how romantic their relationship looked; that they were married for sure. He had been very confused back then.

So it wasn't that hard to remember those two. But it was a hard not to be surprised when they showed up so soon.

He looked up and, trying to hide his shock, smiled at them. The boy looked as though he was shouting to the floor to open up and swallow him already, and the girl looked sulky and pouty.

"Back so soon? What happened?"

The girl (it was sort of funny how she was the 'man' of their relationship, whatever it was, while he was considerably taller and more muscular than her) looked away, eyes skipping longingly around the shelves, but never finding that bunny set they bought last time (it was unique, there was no other bunnies in the market of dishware).

"We broke the set," she said with a sad undertone, as if she was mourning for the bunnies and the hares.

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