This first story is actually a short I wrote a while back, but it reminded me a little bit of Ichigo and Rukia. It's a bit OOC, so please bare with it, I promise the next will be original IchiRuki fics!


The Little Things

He walked past her window every day. Not once, but twice; on the way to his destination and back in the afternoon. Only on Sundays did he not pass her window. He never walked at a slow, leisurely pace, either, but rather as if he was late for something.

She always wondered where he was off to, and why he couldn't get up five minutes earlier to enjoy the walk instead. There were days when she wanted to open the windows, let the brisk morning air in, and yell at the top of her lungs for him to do just so, but she never did…

Instead she watched him miss out on the little things in life.

Two months passed where they continued their little cycle of life, one unaware and the other too shy to change it.

One cold morning, the man didn't pass her window.

Rukia leaned forward where she sat, perched in the corner of her little window-seat. Her breath caused the glass to fog up as she scanned the empty street outside. She rubbed at it with her sleeve before continuing her search for the man she didn't know.

Relief flooded through her as she saw the familiar mop of orange hair round the corner onto her street, his hands still desperately tugging at his tie. He looked even more worn-out than usual. Before Rukia could contemplate what she was about to do, she was already reaching for the bottle of water she always kept with her.

"Hey!" she called, opening the window for the first time.

The man came to a stop just before her window, looking confused for a second before he realised she was actually talking to him.

Rukia leaned forward, dipping her arm out the window as she tossed the bottle of water at the man. He caught it mid-air, but couldn't quite keep it in his hands.

Rukia chuckled as the man desperately tried to hold onto the bottle, looking a bit like a clown trying to juggle a single pin. Luckily he didn't drop it, but turned it around in his hand to inspect it for a second.

"Th-thank you!" he called once he was done, looking up at the window for the first time.

Their eyes met, a feeling of familiarity settling over them as neither spoke another word before Rukia smiled and closed the window. The man stood a bit longer before turning to be on his way, the bottle at his lips before he was out of her sight.

He returned the afternoon, empty bottle in hand and waited for her to open her windows once again. She took the bottle from him, wishing him a safe trip on his way back.

This now became their new cycle. He would arrive, late as usual, and she would hand him a bottle of water. He would then return the bottle at the end of the day and neither of them spoke much to the other during this transaction of theirs.

One Sunday morning, as the cold was starting to clear, the man showed up at Rukia's window. He watched her, waiting for her to notice he was there, but her attention was completely drawn to the book in her hand.

Bending down beneath the window, the man waited a few seconds before jumping up high.

Rukia gave a yelp of surprise, dropping her book into her lap. Her hands covered her mouth as she breathed in, attempting to calm her raging nerves. Once her heart rate was back to normal, she opened the window and slapped the man playfully on the shoulder.

"What was that for?" she asked.

"I wanted to get your attention," the man explained, unable to stop a light shade of red from spreading across his cheeks.

"Why would you want to do that? And I'm sure just knocking on the window would suffice." A smile to ensure the man that she wasn't angry.

"To, well, thank you for all the water every morning," the man began, "I was hoping I could take you out for breakfast if you haven't eaten anything?"

Rukia's eyes widened, all the trouble of calming her nerves going to waste. She continued to stare at the man, a smile creeping onto the corners of her mouth. All too suddenly her face became stoic, her eyes dropping to the book in her lap.

"I'm sorry. I can't," she said simply, her voice coming out monotone.

"Oh, of course, you've probably eaten already. What about next Sunday?" the man asked again, clearly believing that his sudden invitation was the reason for her discouraged expression.

"I can't…" Rukia replied.

The man took a small step away from the window, his hands digging sheepishly into his pockets, "Okay then, have a nice day."

Rukia watched as the man turned around, his head hanging low as he walked away from her. She wanted to call out to him, but nothing she could say would make the situation any less sad.

Monday morning came, and this time Rukia felt anxious as she held the bottle between her small hands. Her plan was to continue as normal, but it wasn't to say the man would even stop after the way she let him down the previous day. It was entirely possible than he even decided to start taking another route to avoid future incidents.

No, Rukia could tell he wasn't a petty man; he would show, she just had to wait patiently.

Her window was already open by the time she heard the rushed footsteps round the corner; her heart beating in her throat. Her hand shook a little as she extended the bottle out.

The man came to a stand-still in front of her outstretched arm.

A silent pause settled over them before, to Rukia's great relief, the man accepted the bottle, smiling at her before he took off again. She sat back in her seat, allowing the cold breeze to cool her as she glanced at the man's back.

She waited patiently for the afternoon to come, because she knew the lengthening shadows brought him along with them.

He was a bit later than usual, but came to her window nonetheless. Only this time, when she extended her hand, the bottle was not as empty as she expected. She wanted to ask the man what it was, but he put his index finger up to his lips and said his goodbye.

Nervously Rukia unscrewed the lid of the bottle, poking her fingers in until she managed to grasp the piece of paper between them. As she rolled the small piece of paper open, Rukia noticed that two sides were torn, while the other showed that it used to belong to the corner of a page. A few pencil marks adjourned the torn piece, but nothing recognisable to her.

Instead of thinking too hard about it, Rukia simply placed it in a small ceramic box next to her bed.

Every afternoon the man would return the bottle, and every time Rukia found a new piece of torn paper inside. She looked each one over carefully, identifying what appeared to be parts of a wall, a few bushes, and a fence. After five days, Rukia noticed that they were not simply random piece of paper, but the pieces to a home-made puzzle. With every piece, the picture became clearer, but Rukia was yet to figure out what the relevance was of it all.

After two weeks she could see that it was a drawing of a garden, but with two piece still missing, the centre was yet to be filled.

"Have you figured out what the pieces are?" the man asked one afternoon, not immediately handing her the bottle.

"It's a puzzle," Rukia said, and by the expression the man wore, she knew she was right.

"These are the last two pieces," the man said, raising the bottle so that she could see two pieces of torn paper through the plastic. "Promise me you'll listen to what I have to say after you've finished the puzzle."

"I promise," Rukia said without hesitating, her finger reaching for the bottle. She popped the last two pieces into her open palm, turning her body so that she could place them into their spots in the puzzle on her bed stand. Finally, the whole picture was complete, not a single piece missing.

"This is…" she started to say, her hands coming up to stop the tears that were gathering in her eyes.

"When I first started working, I often had to get up early. I never liked it, felt like it was a waste getting up almost before the break of dawn. A friend told me about this road, said it was shorter than the one that I usually took, meaning I could get up later. That's when I saw you for the first time," the man said, drawing her attention away from the puzzle.

"Every morning, I'd find you in your garden, watering the plants when the sun was barely up. I ended up waking up at exactly the same time, but then I'd sit for a few minutes and try to figure out why you'd get up so damn early just to water a garden.

"It wasn't until I started noticing the little things; how the colours of the flowers glowed when you watered them, or how the lack of sounds made everything seem so serene and peaceful. It was the little things that made getting up so early worth it, even for me after a while."

Rukia wiped at her face. "The puzzle, is it me in the garden?"

"Yes. I tried to remember as best I could, but you haven't been out in the garden for so long… I kept coming past your house, hoping the spot you again, but you never came," the man said, his voice almost sad. "What happened?"

Rukia reached into her pocket, her hand searching until they wrapped around a key. She then pulled it out and handed it to the man. "My room is the first to the left" she added, motioning for him to let himself in.

The man, looking more than a little confused, did as he was told and soon Rukia couldn't see him anymore. She waited until she heard the key slide into the lock of the front-door, the sound echoing through the empty house. The sound was followed by a creak as the heavy wooden door was pushed open and closed again.

Footsteps reverberated off the walls, a sound Rukia wasn't used to anymore. They stopped just outside her door, clearly contemplating whether to knock or not.

"May I come in?" the man asked after deciding not to knock.

"Yes," Rukia answered, swinging her legs off of the window-seat in order for her to face the man as he stepped into the room.

"You want to know why I stopped going to the garden?" Rukia asked.

Then man nodded, not trusting his own words in such a tense situation.

Rukia reached into the shadows to her left-hand side, pulling something out of the darkness and into the light with her.

A wheelchair.

"Can't go outside if you can't walk," she whispered.

The man looked at Rukia and the wheelchair in turn, making the connections faster than she thought he would.

"That's why… and the breakfast invitation as well," he said, or mumbled rather.

Rukia didn't say anything, and the man didn't press her for an answer; her eyes showed that it was still a fresh wound. He wanted to reach out a comfort her, to tell her that everything would be okay, but instead he stood his ground.

"I'm sorry," the man whispered, wishing it would give her at least a glimmer of hope in her darkened world.

He left not long after that, his silent plea still hanging in the air around Rukia, his sympathetic gaze burned into her mind. She didn't want sympathy, she didn't want people to think she was weak, but what else could they think? There she was, a woman living alone in a house, sitting in a window seat from morning till noon. She wasn't exactly the ideal picture of 'trying your best.'

The next morning Rukia was woken up by a large commotion. She turned in her bed, covering her ears in hope of gaining a few minutes of heavenly sleep. After a while it became apparent that whoever was making the noise, didn't plan on stopping soon.

With a frustrated sigh, Rukia sat up. She reached for her wheelchair and managed to pull herself into it. It took her a while to get used to not being able to move her legs, but she knew she'd never be able to truly forget the feeling of be able to walk, of being able to run.

She wheeled herself into the living room, and to the nearest window, but the gap between the window and the couch wasn't large enough for her to fit her wheelchair. Outside, the racket continued, now accompanied by the sound of people talking and shouting at one another. Her irritation quickly turned into curiosity.

Not really caring that she was still dressed in her pyjamas, Rukia unlocked the front door. She had to cover her eyes the moment the door was opened, the early morning sun blinding her for a second. She hadn't seen it in so long, even though it used to be her solace.

The noise was almost deafening outside, and Rukia was anxious to see what was going on. Slowly she lowered her hands and tried peeking through her lashes. It took a second or two, but she was finally able to open her eyes properly, where after she thought that maybe she was still asleep in bed.

Her garden was filled with people. She recognised them as colleagues from her old job, neighbours, and… him.

The man stood among the people, a thin line of sweat showing through the shirt on his back. His garden gloves were stained brown from the dirt, something that could only be accomplished by hours of intensive work. It wasn't only the man, everyone was actively tending to her garden; fixing broken pots, repainting her white, picket fence, replacing dead flowers, and trimming the trees.

She watched in awe as her once proud garden was restored to its former glory, the life returning with every upturn of the soil.

Her neighbour was the first to spot her sitting in the doorway and the loud conversations quickly died down as more and more people noticed her appearance. The man was the last to realise the sudden silence and quickly looked up to see what was going on.

Slowly he turned around, their eyes meeting from across the distance. As if an unspoken agreement was made, the people continued with the task they'd been give; only the man made a move in her direction.

He came to a halt in front of her, removing his gloves in order to wipe away the thin layer of sweat that formed just above his brow and lip.

"Why are you doing this?" Rukia asked, unable to think of any other question. Luckily the man realised she wasn't trying to sound ungrateful, she was simply confused as to why he, and a group of people, were going out of their way to help her.

"You, and this garden, taught me to appreciate the little things in life, this is simply my way of repaying you. Just because you can't tend to your garden anymore, doesn't mean you shouldn't be allowed to enjoy the morning in it," the man answered.

"Turns out a whole bunch of people agree with me, it didn't even take much to find and convince everyone. A lot of them noticed you as well, and they've always admired you for taking such good care of your garden."

"What about your work? You're always rushing to it."

"I think they'll understand, after all, my wanting to see you in the morning is the reason I'm always late."

Rukia stared at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears, but she refused to let them flow. She had nothing to be sad about, and if she were to cry from all the happiness she felt, she was sure to drown.

The man raised his hand to her, "My name is Ichigo," he said.

"Rukia," she replied, placing her hand gently in his; their eyes never leaving one another's. The man's hand was warm, and slightly damp from the garden gloves, but Rukia didn't mind, because the feeling in her chest was overpowering every other emotion.

"To the little things," Ichigo said.

"Yes, to the little things."


I hope you enjoyed the story! Follow for updates on the next :)

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