Author's Notes: I'm fairly certain that there'll be OOC buzz, so before you read, realize I am essentially writing different people onto these characters. Ichigo is not so immature with 100+ years under his belt, and Rukia is not nearly so deep and full of endless sadness without experiencing Rukongai and all that afterlife stuff. They still have their core personalities, they're still surrounded by the same people (sort of), but circumstances and setting can and does change a person. If Rukia seems too week and wussy to you, she is. And if Ichigo is acting too much like Kaien and less like a really ornery tight ass 15-year old --- well. Yeah.

Also…I wasn't sure of how much to change. The Kurosaki family is officially a Soul Society family – non-Rukongai, mind you – but should they be one of the four great noble houses? Could you imagine them as one? I thought not. And then I was thinking about the Karakura gang, and if I should perhaps make Tatsuki and Renji switch places and whatnot. (Though, as you may notice, I don't have any uncertainties at all about some characters, such as Inoue.) And besides that, there aren't even half of the numbers in Karakura required to do a real switch around with the shinigami cast, so everything would be split up and choppy and very, very confusing. I really have no idea yet on what exactly to do, and it would help an awful lot if you had any opinion on it:D


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Chapter 1: The Death Strawberry


About four or five of them – no, definitely four now. All the same type – thick-headed, brutish, ugly. Dumber than a rock on top of all that, too. There was little to feel sorry for, even after seeing their stupefied, shocked faces staring at the pavement, where their ringleader's skull connected quite strongly to it.

"Wh…what the! What was that? Who did that to Yama-bro?" One of them shrieked – the far-back one. With the greasy hair. And – ohgod was that a hairy mole?

The others looked seriously chilled as they looked about for the suspect. There was a little girl standing and staring at them, but they quickly wrote the possibility of it off, seeing as how she couldn't possibly have done such powerful damage –

"It was I." The same 'little girl' was still standing, staring coolly at them with large violet eyes that pierced their skin and carved their mark sharply in like a thousand miniature sharpened knives. At least, that was how they felt under the intimidating gaze. They could hardly reveal that unsettling emotion to the others, or even themselves, for that matter. In a typical testosterone-fueled action, they puffed up their chests and leered down at the opponent – all four feet and 10 inches of her.

"What d'you think you're doing, huh?" Said one still-disbelieving ugly (because that was what she had decided to name them all at that moment. Uglies. It worked surprisingly well. This one was now Ugly No. 1). "Just get outta here now before you get hurt, little brat!"

The little brat's left brow twitched at the words that were used to address her. She allowed herself to calm down for a moment before smiling irritably, a vein twitching by her temple.

"What," she breathed, "is THAT?" And she pointed one petite finger at the broken vase behind her. A hole the size of a baseball was etched onto one side of the glass, with shards and water and dead flower petals mingling by it.

The Uglies merely sneered at the question, becoming convinced that the girl had not done anything and would not try anything at all. "It's an offering to that person who died recently around here."

"And why is it broken?" Her voice had suddenly become quieter; gentler.

"Why do you think?" Ugly No. 2 chortled, and impudently dropped the skateboard he held to the ground before him. He turned around as if to nonchalantly skate off and end the conversation right there, but was stalled by a sudden blow to the back of the head, a quick flash to their eyes. Ugly No. 2 ("Miji-bro!" cried Ugly No. 1 in contrast) rolled his eyes to the back of his head, a goofy smile on his face, and dropped like a dead weight, face-first, to kiss the ground.

There was no mistake now on who was the culprit. Ugly No. 1 and Ugly No. 3 snarled angrily at the girl and charged at her at once. The girl swiftly crouched down and swung her foot roundabout at Ugly No. 1's ankle. He fell down in a clumsy heap. Temporarily disabled, the girl turned her attention to Ugly No. 3, who had raised his own skateboard above his head as if to swing at the girl. She had other plans in mind, however, and kicked out straight at the stomach. Ugly No. 3 bent over in pain, clutching his stomach. The airborne skateboard landed neatly on the ground for the tiny assailant to push it forward with her foot straight at Ugly No. 3's fat, slightly hairy, ankles. He yelped and fell over backwards, right on top of 'Yama-bro'.

"Now," she said coldly. "Apologize to the spirit for whom this vase and flower was for."

"WE'RE SORRY WE'RE SORRY WE'RE SORRYYY!" The only two conscious members (although not exempt from bleeding noses and cut lips) could hardly stop the screams from ripping out of their throats before scrambling up from the pavement to half-run, half-stumble away.

"Thank you." An elderly man, almost entirely bald, with thick bottle cap glasses and a bent back, smiled pleasantly at his defender. "I thought those boys would never leave me alone."

"It's no problem, sir." She bowed respectfully to him. "Please, rest your soul as soon as possible!"

"I will, don't worry. Take care of yourself, young lady." His eyes twinkled in an almost fatherly affection as he watched the dark-haired girl walk away. Her steps were as light as air and with all the grace of a dancer.
-----

Rukia entered the Kuchiki Manor as quietly as she could; from an early age, after all, she had been trained to act as a lady. The lady of the house had died when Rukia was very, very young; too young to remember what she looked like outside of photo albums and how she acted. Rukia was the only living female of the Kuchiki's now; she was to carry all the grace and nobility that could be shared amongst fourteen women. It was tiring, but Rukia refused to break under such frivolous pressure. She could take it. She'd prove to the rest of her family how strong she could truly be.

One of the maids approached her and quietly inquired whether Miss Kuchiki would like dinner heated up and delivered to her room, as the family had already had dinner without her. Rukia politely declined, lying through her teeth by saying she had eaten at a friend's house. She was about to shyly slink off and away from the maid's probing eyes, but was interceded for one more moment.

"Are you alright, Miss Kuchiki? You look rather sick. And paler than usual!"

The petite teenager waved it off and hastily climbed the stairs to her room, her stomach churning from a mixture of hunger and a sick, terrible feeling unrelated to health. When she closed the door and looked about her, her stomach reinforced its complaints by threatening her with an ominous rumble. Her eyes widened for a second before she hurled towards the bathroom and threw herself – or rather, the pitifully small contents of her insides – down the toilet.

So consumed was Rukia by this activity, she did not notice a strange figure that had just entered her room. He melted out of the wall in a strange, foreboding light that eclipsed all other light in the room. His eyes were drawn and tense, apparently looking for something, when he was distracted by the sound of Rukia's retching in the bathroom, door closed.

He stuck only his head through the wooden door, melting as easily as he had done before (melting might not aptly describe what it was he was doing, but it's the best one can think of seeing how it is PHYSICALLY IMPOSSIBLE). His naturally scowling face was scrunched up in a combination of intrigue and disgust, and he said, to himself more than the girl (for he did not think she could hear him, and how very wrong he was), "Man, that looks disgusting! Like that birthday cake Inoue made for me last year. Wonder what got to you?" He mused loudly at Rukia, who tensed at the first sound of the voice. She immediately stopped vomiting and turned slowly around. There was a floating head in the door. She dully took a moment to slow this train of thought down and repeat it to herself carefully, as if to verify if it made any sense at all. There was a fucking head in the middle of the door.

"HYAAAAA!" Rukia screamed and did an impromptu karate move that was sort of like a flying kick and roundabout twist together. The head had only a split-second to register the shock on his face before being shoved out of the bathroom and flying backwards into the wall he had come from.

"OW OW FUCK OW." Said he with much eloquence. The black-clad boy felt his face to see if anything was broken, and felt something wet. He had a nosebleed! From one measly kick from a little girl that was probably not even half his body mass! He was grumbling out random chains of curses as he brushed himself off when Rukia threw open the bathroom door and fervently looked about her room with a crazed look in her eyes. That crazed look intensified when she spotted a bright orange head that had been floating in her door a moment ago. The boy gulped without really knowing why, but abruptly forgot his fear (fear, where did that come from) in lieu of an epiphany.

"Wait, you can see me?"

Rukia halted the punch she was about to land on his gut, surprised by the question. Her eyes narrowed. "…Yes. Of course I can. Why shouldn't I be able to?"

The boy stood up straight and idly scratched his head. "Well, because I'm a shini-UOOOF!"

"Fool!" Rukia laughed triumphantly. "You should not have left your guard down! And I could care less what you are, so strangely dressed and all. Just get out of my room now, you sick burglar-pervert!" Ichigo snarled from his sprawled position on the floor, patience quickly ebbing away.

"'PERVERT'! That's rich coming from a little punk like you, interrupting me and trying to beat me down when I'm clearly your superior by at least a 100 years!"

Rukia's left eye twitched, ever so slightly. She had no patience for liars with nothing to offer but nonsense. She cracked her knuckles, preparing for a final blow, but was stalled by the door opening to reveal the tall, intimidating man that Rukia referred to as "Nii-sama".

Dark, emotionless eyes swept through the room in one seamless action before reluctantly settling on the empty space above Rukia's head. The 'shinigami', as he had called himself, whistled in a low pitch at the daunting aura of the man. "Wuooo, so scary "

"Shut up!" Rukia hissed at him viciously, almost channeling the same presence of Kuchiki Byakuya. The said man stared levelly at the direction where Rukia had yelled at, his facial expression never changing.

"To whom are you yelling at?"

Rukia paled and clumsily bowed before her elder brother. "I-it's no one – but --- you can't see him, Byakuya-nii-sama?" Her voice rose anxiously at the end of the sentence, curiosity breaking into fear. Byakuya continued to stare straight at the empty space where the boy stood. Said person was sweating slightly under his blind gaze. He could tell Byakuya could not see him (not even a speck of spiritual energy! Where did she get it then? he mused), but there was no denying that that piercing gaze made him feel as naked and visible as daylight.

"See what? You must be less vague when questioning me." Rukia flushed.

"I – I wasn't trying to –"

"Keep the noise down." Byakuya cut her off and smoothly turned around and left, closing the door behind him without even looking back.

"Man, what a scary guy." The shinigami said idly. "And he didn't even look at you once! That's kind of cold, eh? Brothers should be nicer to their little sisters! But maybe times have changed or something…"

"Nii-sama couldn't see you." Rukia interjected once more. "I will accept that you are not a normal human so…" Her lips trailed off, but her idiosyncratic eyes plainly asked him: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?

"I was going to tell you until you kept on rudely interrupting me." The boy scowled, rubbing his sore cheek. "But…I'm a shinigami. You know, god of death. I'm one of those sent from Soul Society to cleanse impure souls and whatnot." The boy waited for her response with a casual calm. Rukia's response was two blinks and an uncomprehending stare. He stood there smiling smugly at her until his brain slowly realized that the long stare was not of awe but of apprehensive disbelief.

"You know," Rukia said with a small pause, "You could've just told me the truth and said you were trying to peek on me or steal some family heirlooms or whatever. I would accept it, you know. I might even have directed you to the 'Priceless Family Heirlooms' room for your troubles. You didn't need to take such effort inventing that big tale for me."

The orange-haired shinigami sweated a little. "You don't believe me? You believe in ghosts but not shinigami?"

"Of course I believe you, scary pervert-brat!" Rukia said. "Now GET OUT OF MY ROOM. Punk."

"AUGHH! That's it! I won't take any more of this 'pervert' crap!" The boy made some quick, obscure hand movements before lifting two fingers at Rukia's forehead.

"First Restraint!" He barked. "OBSTRUCTION!"
-----

Chapter 1 – part 2 - : The Death Strawberry (REPRISE)

"LET GO OF ME NOW."

The so-called 'shinigami', carefully deaf, merely increased the volume of his tuneless humming by a miniscule amount and continued flipping through the pages of the comic book he'd found lying by the bed.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU BASTARD."

"Wuoohhhh!" Rukia perked her desperate head up, thinking that the stupid boy had finally realized the weight of her words and his truly terrible judgement – but he had merely gotten to an interesting part in her precious manga she had picked up a few days ago.

"Don't fall for it, Tuxedo Kamen, it's a trap!" He pressed his sharp face closer to the glossy pages, looking for all the world enraptured by the tiny one (world) he held in his hands. Rukia felt hot blood begin to rise. A second later, and another gasp emerged from her captor.

"That's stupid, Sailor Moon, stupid! Tch, girls are freakin' useless, they never do anything right!"

"RRRRRGHHH."

Finally, a reaction. He blinked, and looked down at his prisoner. "Heya. Something botherin' you?"

"GET OFF ME YOU PERVERTED SICK NASTY FOUL INGRATE PUNK BASTARD FAT-HEADED OLD PIECE OF—"

"Hey, hey! There's no need for all that, and I don't feel like moving, it's very comfortable here!"

"YOUR ASS IS BONY IT IS DIGGING INTO MY SPINE."

"Tch, not like your back's any better!" The boy, whose face seemed to have a natural magnet pulling his jowls constantly downwards, scowled and deepened his frown. He made his point by shimmying a bit and digging his rump a little deeper into Rukia's spine. Her face made a ridiculous expression that was only matched by the strangely determined one on his.

"Your spine isn't a spine at all, it's as sharp as my zanpakatou, yeesh. They feed you around here?"

"GAHHHHGG."

"Hm?" His eyes swiveled and focused elsewhere, and saw the rather dumpy-looking man floating slightly above the bed, looking at the two and smiling in a dopey sort of way.

"Oh, not you AGAIN." Rukia moaned, her tone adopting an almost-whine.

Jerkface (she didn't have her captor's name, and had already used up her monthly limit for "ugly") slowly pushed himself up and out of his sitting position on her back, and made his way towards the ghost. The said being felt the simplicity of his smile slip away, replaced by a nervous edge to it. The nervous smile turned into one of horror at the sight of the big (HUGE, HUGE, WHAT ON EARTH WAS THAT Rukia's mind began repeating to herself in a crazy alarm mantra) sword Jerkface lifted out of the sheath at his side.

"Ru-chan, what is he going to do?" The bespectacled spirit asked in a shrill voice. Rukia was about to echo those exact sentiments (minus the stupid nickname her ghost had given her) when the boy suddenly paused and turned to the immobile girl on the floor and shot her a curious look, sword lifted in mid-strike ("I don't wanna go to hell!" I don't wanna!").

"Wait, you know this guy? You actually took the time to introduce yourself and give him your name?" He didn't even bother to wait for a reply, only gave one loud snort, and quickly stabbed the hilt of the sword into the center of the ghost's forehead. He didn't even notice the short gasp Rukia gave out, so concentrated did he look. He closed his eyes for a brief, pregnant moment, and when they reopened, fiery brown eyes stared down at the terrified man, paired with a cocky smile.

"Don't worry," He said fiercely, eyebrows still knitted and so creating an intense, but still convincing, smile. "You're not going to hell. You're going to a way better place than that. Take care!"

A circle of light appeared around the ghost, who happened to look faintly calmer now, and proceeded to envelop him entirely in it. A blue-tinged color emanated and filled up the large room whilst the ghost quickly sank into the light as if it were quicksand. Seconds passed, and the light in the room disappeared to be replaced by a heavy emptiness. Both of the two people inside were silent, though one was mostly shocked into it, while the other was of the smug variety.

"Believe me now?" Jerkface prodded with a smirk. "I just sent that guy to the afterlife. Well, I mean, you know, the REAL afterlife. It's a 'soul burial', so a restless spirit can leave this world for the next world, which is Soul Society, whiiiich happens to be where I'm from!"

"That still doesn't explain why you broke into my room." Rukia replied dully, still thinking too one-tracked.

"I DIDN'T BREAK INTO YOUR ROOM GODDAMNIT—" Jerkface huffed and abruptly halted his tirade. He cast his angry face about him, allowing some confusion to settle in. "Actually, I'm not sure why I came here in the first place. All I know is that I was following a Hollow – that's a bad spirit, see – and the scent kept getting stronger, and I felt it being strongest from here, but then all of a sudden it disappeared and I couldn't feel its presence at all…" He seemed to be talking mostly to himself now, and faded away into mutterings and lots of mumbling, while continually shifting his narrow eyes about the (tastefully!) pink, bunny-motif room.

So absorbed was the shinigami, he did not seem to hear the unearthly shriek that pierced through all four walls of the room and crudely stabbed its path all the way straight into the tiny girl's tightly clenched stomach. She felt sick and nauseous all at once, without any idea why except for that monstrous scream and the frightening, large presence it had manifested was the root cause behind it.

"H-hey! JERKFACE!" Oops. She had meant to say 'shinigami'. Oh, well, Freudian slip, it happens to everyone.

"What?" He said blankly, and Rukia couldn't believe his impudence (much less the fact that he had actually answered to that pseudonym she impulsively blurted out).

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT, DID YOU HEAR THAT?"

A dense pause. "Er…what?"

Rukia bit back an exasperated scream. "YOU – " But a second shriek interrupted her, and this time the boy definitely heard it, for his face took on an unusual pale pallor, and he gripped the enormous sword sheathed at his side. He seemed to be thinking intensely and rapidly to himself, while darting odd, confounded looks over at Rukia's direction on the floor. Rukia had no time to notice these, however, as she was too preoccupied being scared shitless for her life.

There was a silence after that. Rukia watched Jerkface struggle against himself for a bit, concentrating extremely hard but apparently unsuccessful. After some time of that, he let out an enraged, frustrated yell and shot Rukia a supremely suspicious look.

"Now, look here, how exactly did you—" But it was useless; another scream shot into the night sky, infinitely higher-pitched than the other one, and only a modicum less scary. Rukia shivered. It had come from inside the large Kuchiki mansion. One of the maids, Rukia thought to herself with sick anxiety.

The shinigami grit his teeth and flew out of the room at an incredible speed.

"Wait!" Rukia struggled in vain against her invisible bindings. "WAIT!"

Her words did succeed in making him pause in his step, but he wasn't about to obey them. "For what?" He turned only a little bit so Rukia could only see the profile of his face, the sharp angle of his nose sloping downwards to an unpleasant sneer of a mouth. "What do you think you can do? Just stay there, everything'll be fine, I promise!"

Rukia knew in his clumsy, teenage boy way (despite what he claimed about having a century over on her) that he was trying to make her feel better, and one would normally feel a bit secure knowing their lives were in the hands of a strong, powerful shinigami (albeit unstable and immature) with a butcher knife for a sword, but all Rukia could feel was that slowly sinking sensation like a stone dropping from her throat to the very bowels of her stomach. It was ridiculous; she was ridiculous, and completely useless on top of that too.

"AGHHHHH!" And a large orange thing burst through the wall farthest away from her, preventing Rukia from completely dissolving into her pool of self-pity. Mouth open, she gawked at the form, which only shook a little bit while getting up. He spotted her agape face and gave a feral grin, as blood trickled down from underneath a matted, filthy section of hair over his left eye.

"L…let go of me," She whispered.

"Heh?" He said absently, and was unexpectedly flung aside to the wall like a sac of potatoes. Rukia screamed. First at the bleeding mass of black and orange by her wall. Then the enormous, unimaginably large claw, scythe-shaped, that had been the cause of aforementioned. Then –

"H-hollow." Rukia said through her clenched teeth, remembering the way the words had formed on his. His. The bleeding mass of orange and black and red and more red.

The hollow suddenly stilled itself. Its nose (if that was a nose, what was that) seemed to sniff at her, carefully, looking almost as if it was taking great pleasure in whatever scent she was giving off. She nearly smiled, remembering the old cliché of a monster 'smelling' a person's fear.

Once it was done with that, the hollow's mouth (enormous, incredible, unimaginable) stretched open, revealing fearsome rows of jagged teeth, and clenched the jaw muscles. With another unholy scream unlike anything on the earth, it leaped at Rukia. So paralyzed (in mind body soul) she couldn't even blink her eyes, while her feet resisted the frozen feeling futilely.

/I can't die. I can't./

Yet she closed her eyes and imagined her mouth curved a little bit upwards, looking entirely peaceful, welcoming it. Death. She thought she heard the shinigami's gruff voice from somewhere over her head and a light gust of wind on her face. Perhaps she had already died, painlessly (shame) and he had sent her already to heaven. Or was it Soul Society? Or was it. hell. ? Did it even matter.
-----

Chapter 3 – part 3 - : The Death Strawberry (FINALE)

"Get up. Get up. Get. UP." He said thickly into her ear, so close she felt the hot ragged breath and smelled the blood and dust on him. Her eardrums were pounding, heart thumping rapidly, world spinning. A world that consisted of a bright pink bunny winking at her from the ceiling.

"I'm dead."

He laughed, and winced in pain. "Almost and about to be, if you don't fuckin' do what I say. Now. GET UP."

She was either going to cry or throw up. Perhaps both. "I- I can't!" He, him, the boy (old man) lying next to her, a filthy heap of black cloth and rust and determination but not fear, bravely and nobly nudged her numb body with a sprained foot.

"There. I'm bleeding to death and still managed to poke your skinny ass with my foot. Look, I took off the bakudoh, you oughta be doin' cartwheels right about now."

Blink. Slowly, like an old woman getting up to dance on her golden anniversary, she rolled over (carefully, making sure it was the other way, you can't roll onto a death god) onto her front and tremblingly pushed herself up onto flat palms. She turned her head and for the first time saw him clearly. She paused. Then –

"You looked strong." She blurted out bluntly. He started at that, then stopped and tried not to burst into laughter.

"And you looked like the most seriously unfunny girl in the world." He said lightheartedly, like a favorite uncle to his niece, "but I guess you can catch even me off guard." Before she could interpret whether that was an insult or not, he went back to business mode and grabbed the huge sword by his side. He pointed it towards her with some difficulty. "Come here."

"What?" Shakily, she had begun crawling to him before even finishing the entire one-word sentence.

"I can't fight in this condition. After I had to save your dumb ass." He began, surprisingly without any real malice. It was pointless, however – Rukia's eyes still dampened and she looked away briefly to try and get the tears off before he could see.

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

"Yeah yeah, that's enough for me." The boy says carelessly, looking disgruntled. "Just shut up and listen, the hollow's coming back any second. I got him pretty good – lopped off an arm – but this shitface is stubborn, and he wants your soul pretty badly."

She looked startled at that. "I-it was after me? So this is all really…my fault?"

"Yeah." He said tactlessly. "Look, you have two options here – either take responsibility for that, or have an emotional breakdown…aaaand it looks like you're leaning towards the latter, so, sorry about that, I'm not so good with words, but we don't have any time here and–"

A claw appeared out of thin air, except it wasn't so much thin air as a break in the atmosphere. It was as if some giant thing had opened a tear in a piece of paper, except the paper was the very fabric of the universe. Rukia saw through her tears a bloody stump follow the claw and mentally hoped Soul Society wasn't populated by too many of those.

"SHIT." The bleeding mess of a man turned urgently towards Rukia again, eyes searching another's for response. "Long story short: I stab you with this, right through the heart. You get the chance to save everyone here. Deal?"

"By being dead?" Rukia asked dumbly.

"No. By becoming a shinigami." Fierce brown eyes swept over the scared azure. Words, unspoken, but maybe they were images; completely indescribable, passing between the two uniquely different people (but so much alike, so the same). One was lying on his back, bleeding very messily and holding a sword to the air, while the other looked frightened on her knees, knelt over said bleeding mass.

The hollow finally managed to fit the entirety of its fat self through the tiny hole of reality it had made. Clumsily, blood clouding its vision, it located the two life forms in the corner of the open-wall room and made that noisy, inhuman shriek again.

"Take my sword." He commanded, and without even thinking her two hands clasped themselves around the flat edges of the blade. Ichigo tried to look closely at her, attempting to construe her current emotions.

"My name's Kurosaki Ichigo." He said.

Rukia looked up, and, he was pleased to see, the tears had completely disappeared from her face, replaced by a slight, if shaky, smile. "I am Kuchiki Rukia."

"Kuchiki Rukia," Ichigo said carefully, memorizing the way the name rolled off his tongue, seeing how it might be the last chance he'd ever get to say it. "Let's hope we live to see each other again." Heartfelt sincerity. Pointless now.

The hollow had begun moving, impossibly fast for its girth, and was just about upon them.

Instead of replying, Rukia pulled at the sword they held together and shoved it into her heart, located right above her breast and two sizes too small (big).
-----

"Kurosaki-san ♥ What a surprise to meet you here!"

"Go to hell, Sandal-hat" was the muttered reply, buried underneath white-robed arms wrapped over a bowed orange head. The mysterious 'Sandal-hat' merely tsked and knelt down by the fallen shinigami. He leaned in conspiringly, "You seem to have a bit of a problem right now, ne Kurosaki-san?"

"Mnnf."

"You seem unhappy, Kurosaki-san." The tall man stated simply. His eyes, shadowed by a tacky striped hat, were bright and lively while gazing downwards at him.

This garnered a response. Ichigo lifted his head from the pavement and glared razor-sharp needles at the man, who seemed to be enjoying himself. "Yeah? And what gives you that CRAZY IDEA?"

"Hmm. You appear to have been stripped of your powers. Completely!"

Reluctance. "Go on."

"That girl lying over there took them, and fired an uncontrolled, fantastically huge blow of demon magic with your sword, quite by accident, and while the hollow is dead, she in turn may very well be, from such a surge of energy!"

Ichigo crinkled his forehead. "How long have you been here?"

"Oh, that's not important right now," The man replied airily, and stepped towards the still form of the small girl, lying a few feet away. Every step made a loud, echoing 'click' from his wooden clogs. Ichigo dimly wondered if the people downstairs were stirring awake yet.

"Oh, she's not dead! Incredible!" He took out a cane from nowhere and began poking at her with it experimentally.

"H-hey! That's not nice!" Ichigo sweated.

"I never took you to be so chivalrous," Sandal-hat sniffed, "and anyways, you've got more important problems to think of. This one has been solved for the moment," and he nudged her side with a foot for emphasis, "but think of your situation right now."

Ichigo fell silent, with a heavy air settling around him.

"Well, this is going to cost you!" He took off his hat, revealing very fine cornflower hair.

"What's going to cost me?" Ichigo asked suspiciously.

He thoughtfully scratched his chin, where some stray stubble lived carefree. "The damage done here, of course. Think of all those humans you saved downstairs, putting them safely away by the kitchen – their memories will have to be modified very carefully. Of course, it would've been much easier had you just let them all get eaten, but of course you had to be all white knight…"

"Shut up, Kisuke." Ichigo said testily.

"Mou, so rude to your elders!" He gave a sharp tap with the bottom end of his cane on Ichigo's skull, where there already resided a few bumps.

"Well, fine, I'll just buy one of those memory things offa you," Ichigo grumbled, rubbing his head. "That's not that bad anyways."

"Ah ah ah, remember what I said, Kurosaki-san!" Kisuke twirled his cane idly with one hand while still looking at the dead/alive body of Kuchiki Rukia, thinly veiled curiosity glimmering in his sharp eyes. "Your situation, sir, your situation. What are you going to do, wandering around like that, powerless and unprotected?"

"A gigai." Ichigo realized.

"Tch, you sure are slow, Kurosaki-san!" The man finally tore his eyes away from the stirring Rukia and pointed his cane at the boy. "So how about it? Ichigo-san?" Kisuke's clever eyes gleamed with anticipation.

"…Yeah yeah, fine." Ichigo began to get up, dusting himself off futilely. White showed everything; all the vulnerabilities and weaknesses worn on one person; hid nothing. "Just do something about her first, I think she's worse off than me."

"I'll add that to your bills, then!" He smiled charmingly.