He wasn't recuperating from a broken leg nor did he witness a murder, and more importantly, he wasn't sure his office had what qualified as a rear window. If anything, he was just innocently peeping, not even nearing that of a voyeur, at his newest secretary.
[Four Weeks Ago]
"What's your surname?"
It was as if his interviewee was waiting for this question as her smirk – one that she brought in since her interview, annoying him to no end – if anyone, he should be the one smirking!
"The name is K. K. Rukia," she responded, dully, her voice deep, nearing a baritone register.
Ichigo was sure he could hear the James Bond theme pouring in from somewhere.
All was quiet in the western front of the office until this K. Rukia person giggled. A high-pitched tone that contradicted her actual voice register.
"So, your family's name is K?" Ichigo queried, wondering if he was about to hire a shady nutcase that changed her identity on a daily basis. Hell, K. might have been a pseudo name, a decoy to deflect in case legalities and political force entered.
Though the giggling didn't cease, she shrugged. After catching a few breaths from all that giggling, she responded, "I choose to deviate my surname however I want to. Right now, I decided to shorten my family name to a simple K, just like several authors do in their books. Anonymity these days is very important. The less letters you give out, the safer you might be, of course, that could be moot since people are peeping toms on and offline." She raised her eyebrow at him, as if daring him to contradict her next words. "Do you have a problem with how I would like to be identified?"
It was his turn to shrug his shoulders at her, hoping to get a real rise from her. There was something about her, something he couldn't quite identify, perhaps her quiet yet powerful disembodied charisma that somehow exuded off her miniature frame, but her entry forced all that chattering in the office to cease as she sat down, waiting for her time, and pulled out a volume of The Space Adventures of Chappy manga out of her noticeably expensive Louis Vuitton briefcase. She sat there just laughing and laughing, up until her interview appointment.
And Ichigo, a wannabe masked vigilante with a hero complex who sometimes believed he had to know every minute details about the people working for his developing startup tech company, he needed them to be upstanding citizens of whatever they called themselves as they were misplaced in society.
"I don't have any authority or power over you right this second." He paused for effect. "But at the same time, I may be your potential boss, so if you want me to hire you, then you need to answer my questions honestly."
He chanced a look at her, wondering if he broke her tough walls, although she was giggling nonstop some eons ago.
She nodded as if agreeing to his terms. "Okay." And she stood up, her spine must have balanced her frame with dignity since her posture was almost too maddeningly impeccable. Either that or she was the very robot prototypes that he was waiting to design. Oh, the endless possibilities.
Ichigo forgot she was stood up while his ass was still firmly on the soft cushions of his chair. "Eh?"
"This is where I bid you farewell, Mr. Kurosaki."
"Huh?"
"Farewell."
"Wait? What?"
Now it was her turn to stare at him as if he was the giggling lunatic.
He had to clear his throat, but in all honesty, her stare, though not menacing, almost had the power to shoot laser beams, rendering him into precarious microscopic particles that could be swept by the wind, vacuumed into oblivion only to be thrown out into some dumpster all bagged without air, or being swept by a broom, something that his father always wanted to do during his childhood.
"I beg your pardon, er, Miss K.?"
Still staring at him, she responded, "I see you need more words to compute in that rather miniscule brain of yours, Mr. Kurosaki." He was about to lash out at her before she continued. "I answered your question didn't I?"
Now it was his turn to be confused. "You did?"
In verbatim, she repeated her exact answer and question from exactly three minutes prior to his confusion. He could feel heat rising as his ears felt hot and the burning rage had to simmer down before boiling over. This smartass. Never in a million years would he hire her.
"Fine. You may go. And might I add, you just lost all of your chances of being in this field."
"I was about to, but you seem to be the type to exert their authority so you can have the last word. And to be presumptuous about my future in 'this field,' is none of your concern, you orange mop. Farewell, Kurosaki Ichigo. Long, live, and prosper." Her left hand raised, he expected her to slap him, to perform the Vulcan salute.
He was glad he didn't tell her to fuck off because she was trying his patience. How dare she disrespect him and stared at him as if he was an insignificant being! How dare she-
"Kurosaki-kun?!"
"I told you Urahara-san! You need to knock before bursting in!"
He used his fan to gesture, as if Ichigo's request was insignificant. "We're partners, Kurosaki-kun. Might I add, I asked you to join me in opening this place."
Ichigo grumbled.
"Why did you let K.-san leave?"
"Who?"
"K. Rukia."
"Oh, her? Because she wasn't qualified."
"Who said?"
"I did."
"Did you look at her CV?"
"No, but really, Urahara-san, anyone can be my secretary." He opened her folder, which consisted of other things. But in all honesty, he was so taken by her appearance, a short woman with such a deep voice, deeper than his, that he forgot to look at her CV, which was placed at the back. "I'm sure - holy shit!"
"Exactly."
Ichigo wasn't sure why she decided to apply. Becoming Kurosaki Ichigo's personal secretary at the startup was beyond her capabilities. She was simply over qualified, yet she didn't show any qualms, telling him that no position is beneath anyone. A job was a job to bring experience and of course money.
She was something. Despite choosingto 'more than hyphenate her family name,' she preferred being called Rukia. Though Urahara and other colleagues chose to call her K.-san, believing to fit her mysterious persona she built within the barriers of their cubicles, though Rukia's desk was in an open-area, where she could see everything with her quizzical, engaging eyes.
His phone rang.
He continued staring at her as she seemed to have spaced out, not typing, not reading files on her iMac, not doing anything. The inevitable was coming; he had to speak to her about how she was not performing her duties as his secretary. That or she must be bored out of her mind, but she chose this position, this current life of hers. "Kurosaki speaking."
"Kurosaki-kun!"
He blinked, the wheels of his chair swiveled as he noticed that Rukia was slowly turning to look at his office, possibly aware that he was creeping on her. Again.
"Inoue?"
"Are we still meeting for dinner?"
He frowned, wanting to roll his eyes. He knew casual dating was troublesome, but he didn't expect that she always had to remind him. On a textual basis.
"Yes. Inoue, you could have just texted me."
The line went silent until he heard the unmistakable drone of being hung up.
Then came that text message with Inoue's long apology appeal and how she was excited to see him again.
He sighed. He needed to rethink some choices. Perhaps not dating previously employed personal secretaries being on his priority list.
He always hated to-do lists.
.
.
.
She was comfortably positioned at her desk, legs crossed as free foot tapped against the floor, her loafers making that clacking noise that bothered him.
"Rukia?" Ichigo called, more like commanded.
"Hm?" She craned her neck to look at him.
"Why aren't you working?"
"What makes you think I didn't work, Mr. Kurosaki?" Her voice friendly but scathingly condescending. Ever since he hired her, she was condescending to him, but perhaps in fairness, he was always patronizing her.
"Exhibit A: you're sitting around, clocking in hours, doing nothing. Exhibit B: you've completed nothing since 11am. Need I say more?"
Her legs uncrossed themselves as she fully turned to look at him. For a moment he thought he had her cornered in their overly-petty and revenged-fueled chess game. It appeared they were made to exist in this world to coexist to annoy the hell out of each other. It was apparent since her entry here.
That bland look turned into something more, resulting in that all too irritating, all knowing smirk. "So, the great genius of this startup tech also creeps on his colleagues?"
Difficult as it was, Ichigo made sure to keep his blush from erupting again. "Employee."
"I'm sorry?" That smirk was stretching more and more.
"You're my employee."
She nodded. "So the company's oh so different mission statement about 'not employees, but comrades' was nothing but mere false advertising? Good to know."
She always had the ability to have the last word, and contradicting him, as if she was the one in power. In fact, he felt that she had power over him. Her boss."
"Just answer the goddamn question, Rukia."
"To answer one of your many growing questions that I've mentally listed, the answer is, yes, I have completed all tasks assigned since I walked into the office and clocked in." She looked at her iMac, checking the time. "Since 9:52am, I've responded, forwarded, and composed original emails that you asked me to. I've also read over all reports from all departments and created an iCalendar for this month's and next month's projected deadlines and other incoming projects that may be rife with sci-fi metaphors. As of now, the time being 11:45am, I am waiting for possible responses."
Again, it was embarrassing, but this woman continued to surprise him. Unless she was boasting, he was sure she wasn't lying. Nothing indicated that she wasn't honest. Whether it was him, his other employees – sorry, colleagues – or even strangers, she not once had told an ill-planned lie. Though the mysteries surrounding her surname was suspicious, her violet eyes, not contacts, reflected her honest demeanor. At least that made sense to him. And if he was honest with himself, her eyes were what pulled him. Not to her, but like a magnet, her eyes pulling him to her.
He really hated himself sometimes.
"So, you're telling me, in less than two hours, you completed all designated tasks?"
"I am."
Before he knew it, he blurted, "What the hell!?"
The smirk turned into an amused smile. "What can I say? I type 90 words per minute with 100 percent accuracy. Did you not read my CV?"
Of course he did, but he didn't want to acknowledge anything that would increase the size of her already enlarged ego. Really, she had no reasons being here.
A slender finger tapped her chin annoyingly. "Oh, or did you hire me for my looks?"
"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer."
"I was about to call you a cliché since in several schematic cinematic tropes, big bad bosses often like to bed their secretaries."
Ichigo felt like he was about to be lectured about his chosen hookups, for the lack of a better descriptor. And by a person who he non-verbally respected and felt a magnetic, gravitational pull to. Which was rather bizarre since her carefully organized wit was her biggest weapon that he absolutely despised.
Words escaped him. "Whatever. Start acting like a secretary and stop your yakking."
It was her turn to look confused, an expression that was randomly assigned to her face when time called for it. "So, instead of being expected to perform my gender, an outdated expectation that was non-scientifically and biologically ingrained and socially constructed to people, I'm expected to perform to fit in within the physical parameters of my employed position? One that might be socially rooted unfairly upon my gender?"
Too many questions that he didn't pay attention to and he didn't want to seem like he was incompetent as a good listener, a boss who carefully listened to his employees – no colleagues.
"Whatever. Yeah, do as I say."
"Duly noted."
.
.
.
It was a truly a bizarre sight upon entering the sliding glass doors. K. Rukia was filing her nails and obnoxiously smacking her pink gum with the occasional blowing of bubbles. She even changed her black hipster glasses to a red one. While she dressed the part of a secretary already, it was amazing how colorful her wardrobe was, and as Yadōmaru Risa labeled, Rukia's high-fashion was least three years ahead of the current fashion magazines and catalogues. And while her current black and white checkered pencil skirt and plain white blouse combination was classic and tailored, it didn't seem to fit her quiet yet highly pretentious demeanor, because her fashion contradicted her personality, something that she reveled about herself.
He really needed to stop paying more attention to her.
"What's this?"
The nail file never stopped moving its rhythmic functions and her eyes never lost focused, probably because she didn't want to lose a fingernail. "I'm afraid I don't understand the question. I'm here, sitting like the great secretary I am. What's not to get with this image?"
"Why are you filing your nails?"
Eyes still didn't linger away from her task. "Oh this? I'm performing as a stereotypical secretary. After watching the entire sets of Ghostbusters, the cartoon series, three seasons of Mad Men, because I need to binge the entire series later when life isn't busy, and the film Secretary, staring Maggie Gyllenhaal and James Spader, I'm attempting to mimic what it means to be your secretary. I just finished reading four entertainment magazines, and this was the next secretarial thing to do."
Ichigo wanted to fall on the floor, wanting to feel the harsh coolness of the bacterial floors to hit his forehead. He had to be dreaming. People like K. Rukia did not exist. She was too strange, almost a nonhuman to exist in this world with him. But then again, they were meant to coexist.
She stopped filing her nails, placing the filer done as she inspected her nails. "Though I have to say, after watching 500 Days of Summer, I prefer the term personal assistant, but I guess it's too late on what I want, huh?"
"Rukia! You're doing this to mock me!"
She smacked her gum, purposely to annoy him, putting on that horrible, stereotypical Brooklyn accent that resembled the voice actress of Janine Melnitz's character incarnation. "You're confusing me, Mr. Kurosaki." Smack, smack. "First you tell me how to do my job." Bubble pop. "Then you tell me how to act like a secretary, acting as your secretary. So here I am. Nothing ever satisfies you, huh?" Smack, smack.
"Stop that."
Another bubble pop. "What?"
"Your smacking. It's rude, very unbecoming of you."
The smacking stop. "Oh good lord. You sound like him." She nearly growled the last part out.
Instead of realizing the undertones of her repressed anger, he only heard what his ears could only hear upon creeping operation: him. Who was she referring to? Who is/was him?
Before he could not mind his business, demanding to know who him was, her phone rang.
Delicately spitting her gum onto a tissue, rolling it, and then properly disposing it to her trash bin, she picked up the phone. "Hello, Shoten's. This is K. Rukia speaking, how may I help you?"
Thank goodness she didn't use that horrible Brooklyn accent. That would have been embarrassing for both the company and her.
Not that he cared if she embarrassed herself. He had to keep telling himself that.
He observed Rukia for a bit, always liking how she handled her secretarial job. She was really an elegant secretary. If there was an award for most graceful secretary, she was the only candidate to win.
His mind liked to wander these days.
Before he walked away from her desk, Rukia lifted her right index finger into the air, signaling him to halt his exit.
Puzzlement morphed into worry when he read her mouth: Riruka.
But he had to stifle a chortle because she looked confused. The name must have thrown her off. She probably thought how her name was unique, but of course, she never knew a Riruka, one of his many past secretaries and flings, existed.
He frantically waved a hand, signaling back to her, asking her to lie.
"Oh, I sincerely apologize Dokugamine-san, Mr. Kurosaki is not in his office right now. He has several appointments today. Could I take a message for him?"
Ichigo silently sighed, relief reentering his body, allowing him to breathe again. Although being caught as a boss who had several sexual relationships with his secretary, Rukia never judged hm. Probably because she wasn't attracted to him, which bothered him, but that meant they could be together – working together, that is – longer.
He mouthed a thank you to Rukia, causing her to flash a smirk. As he walked towards his office, he could hear Rukia diligently telling Riruka that she was not like the others because she would never risk her job in favor of temporary sexual release.
He didn't know what hurt more. Inferring him as a man who only wanted sex with his secretaries, and leaving them after a certain date, unfairly labeling them as expiration dates, or her not being attracted to him. Because he would be lying to himself, feeding himself lies and scenarios on his non-growing attraction to Rukia. And he was pretty sure it wasn't because she was his secretary. Not this time.
.
.
.
For once, Rukia was furiously typing, eyes occupied on whatever information was filled on her second monitor's screen. It was as if her eyes commanded the synchronization of her entire body. It was a fascinating sight to him.
All was quiet and peaceful until Senna marched in and started yelling at her.
"How dare you monopolize Ichigo's time away from me!"
Fingers never stopped typing as she disinterestedly responded, "I'm sorry. What Ichigo does with his personal time doesn't concern me. And it absolutely doesn't concern me what you do with him on your own time."
The innuendo couldn't be missed for those who were able to hear the double entendre.
"You bitch! How dare you speak to me like that!" Senna screamed.
She was still typing. "I'm not sure how you contextually interpreted that as rude, but it was quite specific and valid. If anything, you're the one causing the scene. I'm just Mr. Kurosaki's secretary, so I suggest that you leave before you regret it."
She probably shouldn't have the last bit because it provided Senna with the ammunition to fire. "So, you are aware that your merely Ichigo's secretary now huh? Does he let you know that your job description consists of him banging you if he wants."
"Senna!" Ichigo roared. "I told you it was over. Leave Shoten right now."
He desperately wanted to apologize to Rukia. His past was causing havoc to his present and there was a possible chance, a high probability even, that any chances of becoming anything with Rukia, a physical relationship or even a platonic one, evaporated at this very instant.
"You're here, Ichigo! All that snarl instantly disappeared at the sight of Ichigo's lean yet muscular form. She ran over to him. "I've missed you so much, Ichigo!"
After a quick glance at Rukia, making sure Senna's outbursts didn't affect her. Fortunately, her expression never changed as she continued to type, although her eyes showed something akin to anger. Perhaps the ice queen misnomer was inaccurate. She could experience sensations after all. There was a slight twitch of emotion if one drugged deeper into her personal abyss to uncover it.
Senna hugged him, but Ichigo remained still, refusing to extend the intimacy. "Get out, Senna. I'm asking you politely before I call security."
"Wh-whaat?!" But Ichigo!"
In a hushed, angry tone, he slowly but clearly repeated what he told her earlier,, "I told you four weeks ago, we're over. There's nothing else to say. And before you leave, apologize to Rukia."
"Ichigo! I left my fiancé for you! And in no way in hell will I apologize to your latest bitch." Senna wailed, but Ichigo didn't care, centering his focus on Rukia, who finally finished typing whatever she was required to do. But instead of shifting her eyes to the ongoing drama, where several of their colleagues were in tuned to, she focused on her phone, furiously typing again. Perhaps texting a friend, him, or researching about his liaisons.
Several hours after Senna's dramatic entrance and equally theatrical exit, Rukia was brewing another pot of coffee as she diligently maintained her role as a secretary. She was reading the newspaper, fully absorbed in the words being printed on the paper. Really, she was nearing the status of a method actor.
This was perhaps the best time to approach her and apologize.
She turned a page and positioned paper for a less awkward view since the paper was much sizable, compared to her. She was reading one of the many profiles of Kuchiki Byakuya, founder and CEO of Kageyoshi Press.
"Rukia," he hesitantly called out.
His voice must have made her entire body stiffen since her posture turned rigid. "Mr. Kurosaki, hello."
"I'm sorry about what happened earlier."
Still so very stiff. "It's not your fault."
"I'm the instigator."
"Yes, you were. I'm just surprised someone has intelligent as you are blurred the boundaries between professional and private. But then according to several literature, there are no boundaries between the two since they often seep through one another. This is especially true when it comes to social media. But again, isn't it common knowledge to not engage in fornication with your colleagues because it gets – oh I don't know, messy?"
Ouch. No one has ever really called him out of his behavior. His privilege and current tech standing seemed to be those unfairly added layers that allowed him to hide beneath, eradicating all personal accountabilities that endorsed humane civility amongst one another. But for her to sound so technical and blasé about it made it seem so much worse.
The accumulation of today's events, his upcoming deadlines and necessary budget plans to sustain their company, and Rukia for being Rukia, and his illogical attraction towards her, escalated, enveloping his entire being. He was growing angrier by the second. "Don't speak to me like that."
That caught her by surprise, her fingers crinkling the edges of her newspaper, but she also wouldn't back down. "And how would you like me to speak to you?"
"Like your boss." He scowled.
She matched his scowl. "Yes, sir, Mr. Kurosaki, sir. Are you satisfied, sir?"
In one clumsy stride, he stood closer to her, his nose almost touching hers.
She stepped back quickly. "Don't you dare touch me, sir, Mr. Kurosaki, sir."
That confused him and he frowned, softly asking, "What?"
"I'm not here to become one of your secretarial conquests. I know of your secretary fetish. I can respect that every one might have a reasonable fetish, whatever parameters are considered reasonable, but I'm here to work whatever is contracted for me to do so. I'm not here for a romp. So, I ask you to respect my private space."
He reeled in shock, as if her words pierced him with an invisible force. "Don't assume anything, Rukia."
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, but it was not enough to chemically balance the tension in the air between the two.
"Fine. I apologize if I assumed. And if I may, I request that you stay away from me. At least, if it's not anything related to my job or the office."
He turned around, eyes closed as anger and exhaustion wore him down. It all made sense, given his track record. After the ordeal with Senna this morning, he was called into the meeting with Urahara and other partners asking him to be more discreet with sex life and his choices in sexual partners. He was being shamed, but at the same time, he probably did have a secretary fetish as Rukia described. His sexual desires were all about location, location, and location. And there was something very enticing about secretaries.
"Acknowledged."
Before Ichigo left, Rukia poured him his usual afternoon coffee. After sipping on the scalding beverage, burning his tongue, he left. He was positive he heard Rukia snickering and calling him a dumbass under her breath.
.
.
.
Another four weeks passed as another new month with Rukia as his secretary passed. He had kept his promise to Rukia. With the exceptions of office-related things, conferences, schedules, and other events that the two had to attend together, since that was a part of her job, their relationship was that of colleagues. More specifically, he was her boss and she was his secretary, a subordinate position.
There was nothing platonic about their professional relationship. If anything, he felt their distance more than when she was hired; since then, they started to get to know each other, professionally. Of course, this was a stipulation: set boundaries between each other and you actually grow closer to each other. It was monumental. Almost an oxymoron, contextually an incorrect word, but it was appropriate in his current situation, of life.
The pieces of their chess game stalled, stagnated in their designated places. While they didn't really now each other outside of their office lives, Ichigo felt like Rukia's presence calmed him. It was crazy to him. Scenarios like this only happened in fictional narratives, but they had no place in reality.
The quiet hostility between them was apparent to the rest of their colleagues. Urahara shot down Rukia's resignation five times, even after Ichigo accepted her letter, but Shoten couldn't afford to lose one of the many contemporary Zhuge Liang's in the world. It was true, she was able to solve the many scientific and technological riddles that most of them weren't able to. Just the other day, she was the only one who was able to rewrite a program after it was nearly hacked. And then create an entirely new program that secured the company's entire network. But then again, having four degrees (in total) in the fields ranging to physics, engineering, and computer science and coalescing them brilliantly that allowed her to showcase her intellect and abilities. He still wasn't sure why she worked at Shoten. She was far more capable than being a secretary.
He walked into the bar, meeting a friend for drinks. And that's when he saw her, laughing, not those fake laughs reserved for him or other people she was forced to engage with.
Besides her laugh, a nice ring, he was surprised that she was accompanied by two men: a man with a shiny bald head and another guy with long-ass feathers as eyelashes.
Everything looked very intimate. The atmosphere. How Rukia was barely sitting on the chair as her body raised itself to remain in partial physical contact and earshot between her body and the other two, her right hand formed into fists, resting on her cheek as she smiled at what feather-eyes was telling her. Her eyes twinkled in mischief as the baldy laughed boisterously and chugged a beer down, roughly patting her back in obvious adoration.
His friend wordlessly waved him over; he nodded to him. But before he went to the bar, he saw the atmosphere between the three freaks changed. She became more intimate with feather-eyes, and in return, feather-eyes affectionately began rubbing her shoulder as if comforting her. And it was the first time Ichigo witnessed Rukia touching someone, placing her hand on baldy's knees as she sat back down; she almost always avoided contact if possible, citing germ phobia.
It was the exact moment that Kurosaki Ichigo felt jealousy. His heart was beating rapidly, the rhythms of each beat quicker than the previous as he his body felt heavy, as he felt his eyes darken with each forceful step.
Some time since Keigo left, citing a hot date, Ichigo stumbled towards the door, almost falling.
"Mr. Kurosaki?"
He wasn't sure who was addressing him, but the disembodied voice sounded a lot like Rukia.
"Who's that's Rukia-san?" came a judgmental voice.
"Yeah, orange looks like a punk. You can do so much better," came the other voice, though he sounded less judgmental than the first.
"Oh be quiet. He's my boss."
It was Rukia. Or was it Riruka. Both had a varied spelling of Rukia in their names before or after. Or whatever. Placement wasn't important right now, but it was important to him that Rukia might be here.
"He's your boss, Rukia-san? Why are you working for someone beneath your status? I'm sure Ikkaku and I can convince Kuch—"
"Yumi!"
"What?"
"Let's save this conversation for later."
"But Rukia-san —"
"I said later, Yumi. I need to bring my boss somewhere to safety. Oh boy. How much did you drink Mr. Kurosaki? You reek."
Ichigo was sure the disembodied voice belonged to Rukia, but her voice sounded so nice. She usually used her clipped tone filled with contempt and sometimes forced respect, but he could be mishearing and misinterpreting the sounds since he wasn't able to analytically compute her registers.
"You two okay going home without me being your designated driver?"
"Oh please, K. We drank less than you."
"Truth. Okay, we'll catch up at the same time and day next week."
"Can't wait."
"Don't drink and drive, Ikkaku."
"Che. Tell that to your genius lover slash lover, K."
She didn't even rebut his words. And even drunk Ichigo realized that was either a sign of false hope or he was just too damn drunk and listening to a fantasy with a disembodied fake Rukia voice somewhere in the recesses of his stupid brain.
He woke up around 5am, in his office, with Rukia reading the fifteenth volume of The Space Adventures of Chappy, hearts literally flying out of her eyes.
"Rukia?" he croaked.
Though it pained her, that much he could tell, she closed the manga and looked at him, smiling softly. That or he was still in his happy drunk dreamscape that involved Rukia.
He blinked several times, hoping to fully wake up, and ignoring his gnawing feelings of earlier jealousy. It was such an intense feeling. He wondered which of the two weirdos she went home with. Probably feather-eyes since he was considerably a bit more good looking than his mate. Still didn't stop his raging jealousy.
He got up and sighed. "What am I doing?"
"Great manners," she droned. "A falling drunk strawberry hanging from a tree. I bring him home to nurse and the first thing he asks is something rhetorical, knowing full well that darkness, a never ending spatial vacuum that has its own language, cannot answer in a way that his small brain can compute."
He gaped at her. Rukia! She was here! "You're here," he commented, rather lamely.
She widened her eyes, making them look more alien, as if he was a stupid AI, who for no reason, gained consciousness. She opted to nod, fearing that her next words were going to be filled with harsh jokes. Maybe she should decrease their output.
He walked over to her, wanting to be in close contact. He about to ask if was invading her space, but she beat him.
"Stay away."
Ichigo stilled, shoulders slumped in defeat as his amber eyes turned dull in the vast darkness.
She pinched her nose, her voice becoming squeakier but audible."It's not that I don't want to be near you, Mr. Kurosaki. It's just that you reek of alcohol and a scent I cannot describe without filler, non-descriptive words such as vomit and gross. So, if possible, please stand at an appropriate spatial proximity that will not make me gag."
"Rukia, I'm so sorry."
Her fingers released her nose, confused, but she didn't query further, allowing him to continue as she silently promised not to interrupt him.
"I know this has nothing to do with us, being colleagues, but you're probably right, I had a thing for secretaries, not because I had a fetish for them, but they were there, and you know, location was important since the company opened. Location for me equals sex."
He chanced a look at her; her lips set in a firm line as her eyes observed him. He took it as a sign that he could continue.
"I guess I want to say that I'm a playboy or worse. I just want to say I'm sorry and it was never my intention to try to seduce you. I can't explain it, but you – you're too untouchable, keeping everyone at a distance. Even if we're a door away, you architected these inner barriers and walls so outsiders aren't able to enter. I do like you, but I'm not good enough. Feather-eyes is right. I sound lame, but words have failed these past few weeks. Again, I hope you accept my apology."
Mouth lines formed into a frown.
"Don't apologize to me."
Now it was his turn to frown. "What?"
"I'm not the one you should apologize to. I'm just your secretary, not the partners you previously used and discarded. You should apologize to all of your previous secretaries."
Another burn. Were all her acidic words truthfully painful? He guessed he deserved all of the words thrown at him. He just wished it wasn't her telling him off. While critical, there was an evident softness in her words.
"I need to go home and refresh myself before the office opens. You should too. We have less than two hours, so we should hurry," Rukia said, her tone matter of fact.
"You stayed with me all morning?"
"I guess that's likely since I took you here after 2am, and stayed with you for approximately two hours and twenty seven minutes. And before you ask why, I don't know where you live and I'm too cautious to let a stranger into my condo. And then we're working together from 8am until whenever you and Urahara-san decide to quit the day. So, yes, we'll be here together."
"Rukia —"
"Might I add that you have an appointment with Tokyo Tech, so you might want to freshen your face with aloe vera or something. That will lighten up your depressing face."
"Rukia?"
"Yes, Mr. Kurosaki?"
"It's Ichigo."
Confusion was spreading to her face again, eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not sure I follow."
"Call me Ichigo."
"That's not appropriate. I'm, even if I hate the word and will remain a hypocrite after this admission, am your subordinate."
"I want you to call me Ichigo."
...
"Rukia? Permission to enter your private space?"
No answer, but he could hear her breathing hitch, but he wasn't sure if it was something to remain hopeful for or disappointed with.
"Permission denied."
.
.
.
Approximately 47 weeks after Rukia resigned, Shoten had to slowly deal with the loss since some of the bigger projects utilized her intelligence as a framework to restructure and reorganize their current and future projects. The first month was the worst since their stocks plummeted and several investors had to pull out after realizing that Rukia was K.R., the mysterious, award winning writer of Kageyoshi Press. She was fired by her own brother after publishing 'correction' pieces from Kageyoshi Press' other award-winning writer, A.S., Aizen Sōsuke, or ASS, as Rukia 'affectionately' called him. Her termination was the consequence of her allowing Espada News, Kageyoshi's rival, for publishing her pieces.
She had no regrets. ASS' pieces were nothing but slander where he abused his power, regaling on how he could crush a person with his column. The scenarios were uncannily similar to the film, Sweet Smell of Success. Parties fighting to see whose words reigned supreme, but for Rukia, she wanted to expose the ass' megalomaniac misappropriation of funds, unethical favors, and abuse of power.
She applied for the secrecy position at Shoten because her funds were slowly decreasing since Byakuya was forbidden to support her financially since becoming a national and Kuchiki disgrace, and ASS' abuse of power proved that he had influential power, or at least, compromising information about each CEO, over all global presses, print and digital, making it difficult to maintain her writing career.
It never stopped her from surviving. Being Ichigo's secretary was just a temp job, she also become a part-time free lance editor and writer. It was no wonder Ichigo had asked her to write all of their reports, press notes, and presentations. Though words in the digital world could become more technical, she was still concise and adapted for her audience. She was doing very well for herself, even if it was slowly.
Perhaps leaving Ichigo's side was the most difficult. She didn't want to be another secretary and decided to resign her post before things got complicated. Maintaining spatial boundaries was difficult because those layers were bleeding into each other. Hypocrisy was something she didn't want to become known for.
Things simply happened. Decisions changed frequently, changing the outcomes.
She sipped her espresso as she read a gossip magazine. Some habits never changed. Mimesis became reality.
"Kuchiki-san?"
"Yes?"
"Kurosaki-kun is here."
She blinked. "Already?"
"Um, yes?"
"Okay, tell him to meet me at the lobby."
"He's just outside Madarame-kun's office, talking to him."
Rukia rolled her eyes. "Thanks, I'll be there."
Grabbing her small tote bag, keys, and phone, quickly texting Ukitake-sensei that she was going to be out for several hours and will return to Shiro-Shiro Press, Rukia slowly gathered herself and walked out of her office.
She knew what they were talking about. Her. As she walked towards Ikkaku's office, he laughed, the obnoxious sound resonated throughout the halls.
"Why are you here?"
The arm that was leaning on the door frame dropped as he turned to face her. That infuriating smirk appearing as he responded, "I thought I would ask you out to lunch."
"Is that a command? Or are you asking me?"
Ikkaku laughed harder, his bald head becoming an interesting shade of scarlet. Aside from red scalps, Rukia never witnessed such a brilliant red head. Yachiru's pink hair couldn't even rival with the shiny redness that was Ikkaku's burning lightbulb.
Ichigo glared at them both. "Okay. Let's try this again. Rukia, would you like to have lunch with me?"
She shrugged and walked away, smiling, which he couldn't see.
"See ya, Ikkaku."
"See ya. Remember beers Friday evening."
Ichigo nodded as he jogged, catching up to Rukia, now walking beside her.
"Found a new secretary yet, Ichigo?"
He sighed, and she almost felt bad. "No, but my iPad and Alexa seem to be doing a good job. I guess that's the direction now. Multiple adaptive AIs."
"Sure. Pretty soon one's going to run your company and you'll be consider redundant. If anything, that might be a good thing. Unless you're into AIs too, which is absolutely cool in my book, but don't say I didn't warn you when we watched Her."
Ichigo wasn't paying attention to anything really. He was looking at her, smiling softly.
"Permission to kiss girlfriend?"
An endearing smile appeared, something that he always wanted to witness as he matured with her.
"Permission granted."
End notes:
A plotless, nearing pointless piece, that I found in one of my many folders that I decided to share.