Bleach belongs to the awesome Tite Kubo and I do not claim ownership to either the characters or anything else along those lines. I just hart teh Bleach, mayn.

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He looked down at the crowded street, waiting for the inevitable spiritual disturbance. He eyed his pager, sensing faint spiritual pressure, but it stayed blank. Lights flashed down the street, a rushing ambulance wailing as it passed. The people paused for a moment to glance over, lost interest and continued toward their destinations, completely unaware of the danger that threatened them every day, the death and consumption of their souls, or their unholy change into hollows. What they can't hear, see or smell can't hurt them, right? Maybe not so much now, but once your dead, they can do a lot more than just hurt you. Believe me.

The spiritual pressure, a faint tingling along his spine, suddenly honed in on him, and it was coming fast. He swiveled around, pager in hand, right before he was knocked sprawling to the ground. His head hung over the rooftop, giving him a straight view of the thirteen or so story drop before he flipped himself over, hilt in hand, to view the source of the spiritual pressure clinging to him. He cursed loudly.

"Good god Rukia! You could have killed both of us! What kind of a landing was that?" He tossed her off of him and she fell on her rump, a nervous smile plastered on her lips. The bulging vein in his forehead was absolutely pulsing.

She stood up quickly, a breathy laugh doing nothing to hide her embarrassment. "Sorry man! My bad! I came to keep you company. You took off so suddenly," She looked down and her voice was a vulnerable whisper, "I was worried about you... Is there something wrong?"

He smirked, "Nothing besides you. Go home." He lifted her to her feet in a brusque movement and turned back to the bustling city, his back towards her. "I'm just going to keep my eye on things for a bit longer," He stated, then, gentler, "Get some rest. Tomorrow might be rough."

Rukia reached out timidly, her fingers pausing an inch from his rustling black robe. Her hand faltered, eyes dropping dejectedly. "Come back soon, Ichigo."

"Yeah, sure thing." He smiled and turned, but she was already gone.

---

Gin Ichimaru was having a normal day, the ever-present smile stretched wide across his face, his always-closed eyes lifted happily. The gardens today were perfect, the ponds lit up like fluctuating mirrors, the grass soft and spry. The breeze blew his grey-purple hair lightly and the lack of sound easily alerted him of an unexpected visitor. He swung his sword around his sides once, twice and a third time, spun and threw it up in the air over his shoulder. The thump, dainty curse and string of complaints followed a second after, but he was prepared.

"Ouch! You jerk! That's no way to treat your fiancé!" A lime green haired girl popped out of bushes, a visible lump on her head from the sword.

"Since when, Mashiro, have you been my fiancé?" Gin leered, the grin conveying a pronounced smirk.

"That's not fair! If you remember correctly, you called me cute that one time! I mean…am I all wrong for you or something? If you think I'm cute I must have a chance!" Her dull sand-colored eyes were wide and earnest. Gin's smile faded for once.

He stepped closer, catching a vibrant green lock between his fingers. "You are cute, Mashiro." He murmured, making her heart sputter erratically, "But," he grinned widely, "You look like a little kid! How silly. Not to mention you're a Visard! Oh my, this would not go well."

Before she could compose her thoughts he turned and walked away swiftly. Her cheeks burned with remorse. Was she just rejected?

Just as he rounded the corner out of the gardens and back into the maze of warehouses, she made up her mind, sprinting to catch up to him.

"Gin!" He turned, smile utterly gone, "I'm not giving up, okay! You will marry me one day, or else we're going to have to fight! I'll show you I'm no little girl!"

She ran off before he could react, and when he was alone, with no sound besides his steady breathing and the distant call of birds, he allowed himself a long smile, just for Mashiro.

---

"I'm worried about Ichigo." Rukia paced, the tama mat making soft crunches under her light step.

Yoruichi rolled her eyes while Rukia's back was turned. Her problem was obvious, wasn't it? Poor girl was in love. "Don't worry about him," she chuckled lightly and made a dismissive gesture, "He'll come around. He's very busy with training, you know."

"That may be the case, but must he act so rude to me? I can't stand it! What am I to him in any case, right? I'll kill him!" Rukia turned quickly, realizing she had said that all aloud. A blush crept up her neck and stung her cheeks. "I mean, I feel like I'm wasting my time is all. Like he doesn't even want me there. I'm such a burden…"

Yoruichi smiled knowingly and stood, her hand resting casually on Rukia's arm as they both gazed out of the window. "Think of it this way… Ichigo is just a boy, right?" Rukia nodded and looked up trustingly. "Well, like most boys, he has quite…blatant interests. Fighting, eating, sleeping, and, well…you know." Rukia blushed furiously. "I guess you could say what I'm getting at is you have to show him how strong, determined and caring you are, but you also- and this is very important- must show him your…well, womanly charms as well."

Rukia looked down for a few moments, eyes vacant in deep thought. She whispered, "I compare nothing to Orihime. She's beautiful, delicate, a real damsel in distress, you know? There's also her figure…I mean, what am I compared to that?"

"Don't be frightened" Yoruichi warned, right before her hands moved to rest on Rukia's slender hips. "You are beautiful, smart, strong and have every bit as much of charm and in my opinion even more so than Orihime." Rukia turned away in disbelief and bitterness, but Yoruichi put one silky tanned finger under her chin and looked directly into her eyes. "Stop, Rukia. You know what I say is true. You are everything and more than he could ever want, and," she amended with a slight chuckle, "probably much more than he could ever know how to handle. Guide him, and every day will be more fun than the next. As long as you're with each other, right? Orihime doesn't stand a chance." And with that Yoruichi swooped down and landed a swift peck on Rukia's surprised lips.

Rukia smiled widely and thanked Yoruichi quickly before racing out of Urahara's shop with great determination. Yoruichi only smiled and turned, looking over her shoulder into the shadows. "Liked our little chat, did you?"

Urahara stepped from behind a pile of boxes, a repentant grin across his face and scratched his head. "Erm, Yoruichi? Please don't kill me."

"Not a chance." And with that Yoruichi pounced on Urahara, both of them landing on the floor. Urahara squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the first blow, but only a feathery touch skimmed his neck. His eyes snapped open and he took in a ragged gasp, shivers racing down his spine. Those were her lips on his neck!

"What did you see?" Yoruichi slid her hands under his thick robe, finding all of the little crevices in his well-muscled stomach; the deep slashes of his ribs and his firm yet silky chest. Her lips followed her fingers' upward path, pushing the robe a few inches wider on his sides. He was speechless, his gaze glued to her bountiful hips, the pronounced shape of her bottom in up in the air, the feeling of her thighs bracing his sides, the various sensations running all over his body. It was maddening.

"W-what did you ask again? My concentration is suffering." He stuttered, breathless, his face burning. His hand crept stealthily downward to hide exactly how into this he was, worried if it really was a cruel ruse.

"Did you like what you saw?" She rephrased, her concentration suffering also. Damn! She had waited far too long for this. Her drive and curiosity piqued, she ran her cheek down his stomach, her hair trailing after her, but she sat up quickly when her breasts skimmed something that shouldn't have been there. She looked down with a pout on her lips to see Urahara with his hands hiding the evidence of their activities and a very uncharacteristic look on his face, his tongue darting out lustily to moisten his lips. The muscles at the pit of her stomach tightened and the heat that had just been a resounding throb burned in agonizing waves throughout her body. She lifted his hands away one by one and his robe made a tall steeple. She grinned hugely, her hands moving to replace his and her lips finding his, her strokes teasing and feather-light. He squirmed, his hips bucking, seeking more friction.

"I did... Very…much so… And I most definitely do now." He stuttered between ragged breaths, his eyes closing and back arching. A long moan escaped his lips, and when he opened his eyes due to a strange feeling of lightness, he saw the ceiling. Yoruichi just wasn't there.

"What the hell! I'm going to need freaking therapy after this!" His voice cracked at just the right spot and Yoruichi couldn't help but burst into mad giggles from behind the stack of boxes.

Yoruichi popped her head out quickly, pleased to see he had not flagged in the slightest. The dumbstruck look on his face was priceless. "God! If I disappear it's for a reason! Wait for it…"

And just with that Hanakiri raced in, facing Urahara's back thankfully. "I heard weird noises! What were you doing? Killing a cat?"

Urahara turned his head slowly, a death glare paralyzing the flame-haired boy. "OUT!"

Yoruichi stuck out of the room stealthily and hopped on the roof, the conversation below a muted murmur, but she did distinctly hear Urahara yell, "That bitch! What the hell!" And she just had to smile at that. Yes. Womanly charms are important, indeed.