Hi there! A quick note before you read the story: I have no idea what I'm doing writing a Renji/Rukia fic or being on pretending I can write for that matter. Please bear with me, I'm a little crazy. xD If I can be bothered (and think up of a totally ass-kickingly good plot) I'll continue this soon! Hope you enjoy it.

Edit: Almost a year down the line, I did a once over of beta-reading on this chapter, and another point of notice occurred to me. I must say that both characters are in an alternate universe for this fic, but not alternate to the point of Mary Sues- just that they don't have their shinigami powers. But Rukia is still Byakuya's sister, for example, and they all live in Karakura. Oh, and it is in Rukia's POV unless stated otherwise.

Many characters are also very out of character (OOC) for example, Renji, who is majorly-- well, you'll see! And even more so in the case of Rukia. I ask you to appreciate that I've chosen to do this, I think it works well for the story I've got in mind!

With that out of the way, I wish you'll enjoy this as much as I cracked up writing it. I have a very odd sense of humour...

Disclaimer: I own neither President Bush nor Bleach. But Tite Kubo has been rumoured to own both.


Songbird in the Lion's Den

Chapter 1: Peanut Butter


Once again, I had been beaten to it. The residual spot under the willow tree was no longer empty, meaning that lunch alone on the steps was, for the eighth day in a row, imminent. I shifted the weight of the huge canvas from underneath one arm to the other with too great a difficulty for my miniscule frame, before settling it down beside me to eat.

The midday sun overhead was tenaciously intolerant that day; the perfect opportunity for the male students to resort to shedding their shirts, braces and ties, which of course they'd already done, while for the girls it meant hitching up their skirts to a barely acceptable degree and removing their shoes and socks. I, however, had remained perfectly intact, dressed immaculately from head to toe, not a hair out of place.

Peanut butter sandwiches for lunch again. The words to the Peanut Butter Song were literally dancing in my head. I'd invented it three days into the peanut butter lunch phase. You see, it's not that I hated those sandwiches, in fact I loved them, but the thing was, if you had peanut butter and only that for the past month in your sandwiches for lunch like I'd had, you'd be sure to tire of it too. Too bad we weren't millionaires, me and Byakuya; otherwise I wouldn't even be here. Not to mention I'd be able to attend Isotou Art School or something equally spectacular in two years' time.

Instead, we got by with the help of a government subsidy for young adults, which didn't exactly feel gratifying, especially when you're lining up for it and surrounded by mostly pensioners. It wasn't too great on the self-esteem. And I had to be the one to always do it, too. The feeling when I spotted someone I knew walking past the cashier's desk at the local town hall was incredible. Incredibly humiliating, that was.

But still, I couldn't complain because come dinner time, there was food on the table. Not high-end gourmet caviar dishes, just the usual stuff. But who wants high-end fish eggs for dinner anyway? Who did I look like, Kyouraku Shunsui?

I took a bite out of the sandwich, the taste being practically best friends with my tongue by now, and just after I deeply inhaled the September air, starting to really enjoy the weather, I was abruptly and rudely interrupted.

"Hey, Kuchiki."

"That's Kuchiki-chan, if not Kuchiki-san to you, Kiego."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

How rude! Who did this guy think he was? Just because he hung around with the popular kids didn't mean he was exempt from the human requisite of manners. "We need you for something."

"And what makes you think I'm obliged in any way to help you?" I retorted, wiping a bit of peanut butter from my chin.

"Well, the senior president requested it." he replied, as if that little fact made any difference to me. No doubt it was another stupid event they wanted me to help organise. I had no idea what it was about me that projected the image seeming like the sort of person who wanted to even engage in conversation with anyone, let alone help out with social events, where there was inevitably a lot of conversational engagement going on.

"What about it? He doesn't own me. Tell him to find somebody else to do it. Now shoo, I want to at least enjoy what's left of my lunch in peace. Your being here makes that impossible."

Kiego scrunched up his face like a troll before saying "Whatever, Peanut-Butter Kuchiki."

That annoyed the hell out of me, but boy was I glad he was gone. No longer was there a whiff of cheap soap in the air, and once again the sun shone brightly with me basking in it.

However this didn't last long as once again, rain insisted on ruining my parade.

"What is it this time?" I said through gritted teeth, half out of anger and half due to the residue of peanut butter caught between the crevices of my premolars. This person had totally blocked out my share of sun, leaving me in a patch of darkness on the school steps. This giant of an oaf was now officially already in my bad books for this utterly ungraceful manoeuvre. "I don't have time for this, I just want to eat my--"

"Kuchiki-san."

"Ha, whoever you are, I bet that dork Kiego told you to call me that. So, you! So much for buttering me up. The answer is 'no' by the way." I snorted. After a pause on his- or her- behalf, (this I wasn't sure of because I couldn't see the person's face) the sun finally returned and I beamed at the sky, thanking Reason and Fate for their intervention. But it wasn't over, poor me. The oaf had plopped down right beside me instead. Great.

"Kuchiki Rukia, I don't know any Kiego. All I know is that I sent someone over to ask for your help and you said no. So personally, as the senior president, I'm willing to offer you a small payment in return for your participation in the Spring Fair."

I knew it, what else was it ever going to be? Spring Fair this, Autumn Ball that, blah blah blah. "Look, President-san, I've already said-- wait a minute, did you say payment?"

So I finally managed to steal a glance at this president person and nearly died on the spot. Who was this guy and how comes I'd never seen him before? Why were there tattoos all over him? Why oh why did he insist on showing those finely carved pectoral muscles when they were so obviously and too illegally lustrous to be displayed in public? Has he no chastity? I'm still innocent for goodness' sakes!

"My name is Abarai Renji, you can call me Renji." he self-introduced, interrupting my string of thought and consequently extending an invitation for a handshake. After what seemed to be the longest delayed reaction in the entire universe, I grabbed it, albeit a little too eagerly and ended up somewhere halfway in his lap.

"Oh, excuse me for that, Renji-kun." I apologised, perhaps not showing as much embarrassment as I ought to have done, and having a total disregard for the proper use of honorifics. In my opinion, everyone was -kun, I had never really known otherwise, growing up with Byakuya. Plus, I'd never met with anyone worthy of such honour from me, they were all either there to nudge or insult me, maybe with the one exception of Byakuya, but sometimes he even responded to "Oi", so there's not much else to say upon the matter . "So, you mentioned something about pay? If that's the case, I may be interested. As long as it doesn't interfere with my school work of course."

It sounded reasonable enough. I considered this opportunity as something of a part-time job; offering my help for money. That's how it went, right?

"You see, it is your school work." Renji pointed to the canvas I'd been lugging around- soon to be finished for my potential grade assessment. "We've met before."

We have? When?

"We have? When?" I scoffed, afraid of the direction this was leading. I certainly don't remember meeting this guy. If I had, I would have remembered his ferocious red hair and the colour of his eyes which made me feel slightly uneasy.

"I don't mean us," he continued, "I was talking about your canvas."

Well of course. It is top quality stuff. Grade A if I may say so myself. To this, I raised my eyebrows, waiting for him to elaborate on what it was he was here for.

"Finally now I can put a name to a face, Kuchiki-san. I think your art is brilliant, and I'd like to display it at the Spring Fair this January. So I'm offering you 10,000 yen for the rental of your work."

I couldn't believe it. Was this really happening? 10,000 yen? I could feed myself for a month with that money! I looked at Renji, who looked back at me intently, no doubt waiting for me to say 'yes', but, there were some issues I had to air.

"Renji-kun, I'm certainly interested, but there're some things I have to tell you first." I started, and noticed that he was still listening with an intimidating amount of concentration. "You see- I can't just simply paint whenever I feel like it. It won't come to me straightaway, so it may take some time... and I'm sorry but I can't tell you when that would be!" I continued, making up an excuse to exempt me from the pressure of expectation.

His pupils dilated slightly, making me jump; maybe it was because he shifted his eyes, but whatever the case, he spoke not long after.

"About that-- I was actually talking about another piece of yours- one that's already completed? It's called 'Sakura-wa', and I believe it's hanging in the basement of the Momo building?"

My heart skipped a beat on so many levels. I didn't even know where to begin organising my thoughts because my mind was splattered with an array of thoughts. Okay, first things first, he was willing to pay me a month's worth of food in money for something that I'd already done? Of which he actually knew the name? And what on earth had he been doing in the Momo building, and if he was there, then again, for the umpteenth time so far, why had I never seen him to this day? This was beginning to feel more and more like some sort of twisted underlying plot by the minute. Call me paranoid, but don't frown when it comes to 'I told you so'.

"W-well," I stammered, regaining my mental composure, "I guess that could be arranged." Clearing my throat, I took the last bite of my peanut butter sandwich. Renji smiled at me in the way that wily businessmen smiled at their corporal targets, making me feel like a rabbit caught in headlights. It didn't help that this man before me was so devilishly handsome that I couldn't even resort to concentrating on some ugly spot or something to distract myself from the situation. No, his face was even more flawless than Inoue Orihime's, and we all knew how beautiful she was. That so wasn't jealousy you detected, by the way.

"I'll come by the building in about a week's time to collect the canvas. Can I call you?"

I wanted to tell him that I didn't have a phone, but the uprising sense of shame that came about was too great to be overcome. A teenager with no phone was like the little mermaid with no fins. So instead, I tried to play it cool. What a mistake.

"Uh, sure. It's 003-743-587."

Renji looked up from his phone accusingly at me. "Sorry, could you type that in yourself?"

Uh-oh. In any case, I typed in the number for the Isotou Art School into his phone, which he fell for like a maniac on a bungee cord.

"Thanks, Rukia. You'll be hearing from me. Enjoy your lunch." he said.

What a polite young man, I thought. They don't make them like that anymore. I rolled my eyes as he got up to leave- which I think he actually caught a glimpse of- telling myself that of course they don't, and that if they did, there would be crazy-looking tattooed redheads everywhere, scaring the living daylights out of old ladies with their hazel snake eyes.

But in spite of all things, 10,000 yen for a day's work wasn't bad at all, was it?


TBC...