The higher up you are, the harder you will fall.
And everything's a weapon, a way to make you fall.
A razor, drawn across the wrist. A pillow pressed over the face. A rope around the neck. A bridge to jump off of.
And words, to push her over the edge. But sometimes it's the lack of words that could stop her from pushing herself over.
Kuchiki Rukia was tired. She trudged toward the gates of Karakura High School, her friends chattering around her. She put on a mask and smiled back at them, engaging herself in their conversation every once in a while, but once they reached the edge of the property, she lifted her hand in a welcome goodbye.
Her friends were perfect, her life in school was perfect, so Rukia often asked herself why things were still so difficult.
And she knew, of course. It was just that difficult staying at the top. People looked up to her in both jealousy and admiration. First, two of the hottest guys at school were fighting over her, and second, she was pretty, and third, she had pretty friends who always had her back. So basically, from outside the window, Rukia had the perfect high school life, and yet she still felt empty inside. She was a beautiful and delicate brick mansion, but with opaque glass windows too clouded to see inside to the broken furniture, because nobody could see past the windows into the room that contained her life outside of school.
Yes, she could talk to her friends, but yet she couldn't. She was isolated at the top of the ladder, and should she fall, there were hundreds of hungry vultures that would fly and fight their way up to take her place. And as much as she wanted to prevent that fall from happening, she knew it was always a possibility, a chance, a storm cloud hanging in a gray sky where things were never clear.
But Rukia knew there was a way to stop it; she'd always known. After all, a beautiful mansion that nobody wants or cares about eventually crumbles to nothing. All she had to do was to quicken that process.
As usual, things were quite hectic at the Rolling Star Salon. Kurosaki Ichigo hurriedly ushered yet another customer to a chair, behind which a rather impatient-looking Hiyori was standing, glaring at him. He gave the customer a hasty smile before leaving the poor man to the wrath of Hiyori and going to tend to the other customers.
Shinji stood behind a customer, working wonders on her once-scraggly hair. He shot a toothy grin at Ichigo, who nodded at him to get to work. Love and Rose were quarreling in a corner over what hairstyle and what color Rose's current customer should get. Love wanted to perm her hair and dye it brown, but Rose seemed stubbornly set on dying it orange. "Like Ichigo's," he said with finality. Love threw his hands up in defeat and stalked away to work on creating new ads, shaking his head with disbelief. Meanwhile, Hachi sat behind the desk, hunched over some papers. Every once in a while, he would call Ichigo over to report on the finances of the salon. Mashiro sat before a customer, painting her nails with precise and deft strokes. She stuck out her tongue in concentration. Kensei was busy cutting away at some man's hair. He had always been surprisingly adept with scissors and a razor, and before long, the man looked at his reflection and smiled at Kensei with satisfaction. Outside, Lisa, deliberately dressed in a short skirt and low-cut top, changed the posters covering the windows of the salon. Sometimes, when passer-bys stopped to watch, she would turn around and smile suggestively at them. Hiyori had finally finished with the first customer and was pulling the next one to her chair, her perpetual frown covering her face. And Ichigo, finally finished with welcoming the new customers, stood at the door, hard brown eyes sweeping the bustling scene before him.
They were a motley and unlikely crew, a conglomerate of the strangest people you might find on the streets of Karakura Town, but they were efficient and most of all, there were damn good. The rest of the town could testify to that fact. The Rolling Star Salon had put all other salons within the area out of business despite having only two-and-a-half years of business under its belt.
Ichigo didn't quite understand what kept the customers coming back. Sure they were good, but he didn't think they were good enough to put everyone else within a forty-mile radius out of business. He figured it must be the group dynamic that was so attractive. Or maybe it was just the weirdness and craziness factor. After all, it wasn't everyday that people saw green or pink-haired teens, or little girls with the tempers of bears and the skills of grown women.
Rukia climbed up the fire escape, ignoring the fatigue that was setting in. Besides, it would be over soon. She watched as the ground fell away below her.
Ichigo was about to attend to the newest customer, but suddenly, he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. The hair at the back of his neck stood up, and he knew something was wrong. Looking around, he saw Lisa staring at him from outside the windows, a similar confused but worried look in her usually mocking eyes. Damn, that girl always knew what he was thinking. She was probably more in tune with him that Shinji was, and that was saying something.
"I'll take her," Lisa said, walking inside and leading the woman to the one empty chair. "You go. Do whatever."
Ichigo nodded at her, grateful, and then exited the room through the back door that led up to the two apartment rooms that the gang shared. But he didn't stop at their doors. Instead, he rushed down the short hallway to the ladder that led up to the roof, pushing open the trapdoor labeled "roof access" in large red letters.
He poked his head through into the crisp air of the autumn afternoon, and stopped. Across him, on the edge of the roof was a girl balanced precariously on her tiptoes, her black hair swirling around her in the wind and her face turned upwards to a sun that was not there.
A/N: Alrighty, so this is the beginning of a rather angsty fanfiction I wrote years ago about a different fandom. I never finished it though, and this time, I think I've planned it out much better and I'm planning to finish it. Oh, and if you couldn't tell, Ichigo is leader of the Vizards, who run the Rolling Star Salon. Rukia is a student. Bear with me; there'll be lots of little twists and things, so keep your eyes open for hints of Rukia and Ichigo's past and their secrets!
