Chapter 1: Chance Encounter

Edited: 1/5/19

AN: Woo, I had certainly been neglectful of my story! Came back to read this a year later and decided to give it a bit of a polish. Once I get through all the chapters, I'll try to update. I had jotted down a lot of ideas the first time through, so I'm rather excited to pick this story back up again despite all the delay. Refreshing to come back to it a different person! Anyways, enjoy.

Though she was raised with strict punctuality drilled into her head, Rukia nonetheless found herself running hopelessly late to a blind date that her friend Momo had set up for her.

She had to admit that she hasn't been exactly looking forward to this event. She also had to admit that this reluctance perhaps manifested itself in her purposeful lack of time management, which put her in her present predicament. But that was neither here nor there.

Her date, someone by the name of Renji Abarai who was close to Momo from their college days, had texted Rukia just a few minutes earlier, asking about her whereabouts. Too late to back down now.

She quickly typed a reply, blaming her lateness on the traffic.

It looks like it might take at least half an hour or more. The traffic is horrid. Sorry about the wait!

After that little white lie, Rukia gathered her resolve, put on a decent outfit and some makeup, and finally set off. Initially, she planned to take the bus or metro–the public transportation in her city being so convenient that she never really found the need to own a car. The soonest one, however, wasn't scheduled to arrive until ten minutes later, and she really didn't wish to push the clock any further.

All this meant that the quickest option left was to take a cab, and so Rukia left her apartment building for the main road nearby and waited.

Because she lived in a relatively busy area, just a few blocks away from the heart of the city, there was guaranteed to be at least one or two taxis driving by in the next few minutes. Whether any of them would be unoccupied was up to luck though.

Fortunately for Rukia, she managed to flag one down after a brief wait. She scooted into the backseat in a flurry.

"Where to, Missus?"

"Seireitei, the restaurant on Thirteenth Street. And make it quick." Her tone was made unintentionally curt by her hurried state.

Used to his clients being short with him, the driver replied, "Ya got it."

It took a brief moment, during which the driver glanced at his client through the rear view mirror, before he spoke again. "So judging by how you're dressed, I'm guessing you either are secretly a celebrity who cares about her image, have an important interview, or going to a hot date."

"Excuse me?"

"Damn, were all my guesses wrong then?"

Rukia paused, surprised at his audacity. It really has been a while since she met someone this open, outside of her small but close-knit group of friends and associates. Deciding that he probably did not have any ulterior motives outside of making small talk, she humored him by saying, "Actually, yes to the date, though unsure about the 'hot' part, seeing as I've never met the guy before."

"Ah, so a blind date then. Very exciting."

"You're welcome to take my place anytime."

The driver snickered, "For some reason, I really doubt he would be my type. Who set you two up?"

"No, it's my turn."

"What?"

"You already asked me a nosy question, so it's only fair that I get to ask one, too," Rukia explained, partly because the driver's snarky personality was becoming infectious and partly because she wanted to get out of having to discuss her blind date any further.

The driver snorted, "Fine, ask away."

Shoot, Rukia hadn't thought far enough ahead to actually have a question ready. Looking for inspiration, she examined the driver and focused on his most noticeable feature. "Your hair. Why did you dye it orange?"

"People should stop thinking just because a hair color is unusual that I must've had it done," he sighed. "It's actually not dyed. Completely natural."

"You're kidding!" Frantically, Rukia thought back to an unfortunate workplace incident a few weeks ago. She had innocently asked a new recruit named Toshiro Hitsugaya about his white hair as well, inquiring as to which salon he frequents to dye it. Instead of responding, Hitsugaya stared at her for a few seconds, then turned away in a huff without a word. Before today, she hadn't thought much of it, crediting it to maybe him still being angry at her for an even earlier incident during which she mistook him for being a coworker's child due to his youthful appearance. Mistakes were made.

Realizing that now, however, she made a mental note in her head to formally apologize to him on Monday.

"But I guess I could see why someone would assume that. I guess it is a reasonable thing to be curious about," the driver had continued. "But yeah, no joke. My hair is as real as...you going on your hot date?" He waved a hand around in the air, as if to make up for his lack of eloquence. "Something like that."

"I can tell, considering how you seem to be barely able to string words together to form a coherent sentence," Rukia ventured ahead with a jest. The driver had proved himself to be someone who was easygoing and could takes jokes well so far.

He shot back easily, "Haven't anyone ever told you it was a bad idea to insult someone who's controlling a two-ton, metal death machine? One that you're basically entrusting your life to?"

"That sounds awfully threatening, Mr. Driver."

"The name's Ichigo Kurosaki."

"And I'm Rukia Kuchiki."

"I would say 'it's nice to meet you,' but considering how rude you've been, I'd say it's my luck that we're at the restaurant already. The total's eight dollars."

"How fortunate that I no longer have to be trapped in a death machine with you," Rukia replied without missing a beat. As Ichigo pulled over to the sidewalk, she dug through her purse to find the right bills, which she promptly handed over. "Good night, Mr. Driver."

Walking away, she could hear a faint "It's Ichigo, not 'Mr. Driver'!" echoing from behind the closed doors of the cab.

Rukia smiled to herself, making sure not to look back, and made her way to the restaurant, chin raised high.

Call it luck, call it fate–though Ichigo would mostly like to call it misfortune–he saw a familiar face just as he was about to call it quits for the day.

This time, however, the tiny, dark-haired woman was accompanied by a tall, red-headed man who flagged down the cab for her. Driving closer to the couple, he saw that it was less her date accompanying her and more him supporting her frame, arm wrapped around her shoulders. Was she...having a dizzy spell? Drunk? Yes, definitely the latter.

"I'm fine," Ichigo heard Rukia say to the redhead, her slightly slurred words betraying her true state, as the taxi stopped right in front of the couple.

"I believe you, don't worry. I'm just making sure you don't trip." The man then turned and looked down at Ichigo in the driver's seat. "Make sure she gets home safely. Here, this should cover the fare." He handed Ichigo a fifty-dollar bill and gave Rukia's address while the woman settled herself into the backseat, laying herself down completely across the cushions.

"That'll definitely do," Ichigo gave an affirming nod and began pulling the car away.

Just like their last ride, it wasn't long before Ichigo initiated conversation, not one to stand long stretches of silence. "So, how was the date? Bad enough that you got this hammered and asked to leave after just an hour?"

"Hmm? Oh. Well, look who it is. It's you again, Mr. Driver."

"Again, the name's Ichigo."

"Yeah, yeah," she said dismissively. "And I'll have you know, it was fine. He just wasn't my type, I think."

"Is that really all?"

"...He did also get a business call," Rukia admitted sheepishly. "Apparently it was pretty urgent, so he had to leave to take care of some things. It was all very vague and sudden." She then quickly added on, "But the part about him not being my type stands,"

Ichigo realized he might be heading into a sensitive territory, so he steered it back with a question, "So how much did you drink?"

"Two glasses."

"Of?"

"Wine."

"You mean to say–" his speech was punctuated by laughter throughout "–that just two glasses of wine made you this drunk? A little lightweight, aren't you?"

Rukia was becoming irritated, her temper made short by the fact that she was, yes, perhaps a little drunk after drinking just two glasses of wine. She snapped, "They were big glasses. And I really do not need a lecture from you at the moment."

"Hey, hey, I'm just trying to make conversation."

"Well, save it." As soon as that sentence left her mouth, Rukia could feel the atmosphere in the cab grow colder. Was she being too harsh? Well surely he had it coming for goading her on so much. God, her head was really starting to hurt. Was she home yet?

As if answering her question, Ichigo announced, a bit terse, "We're here."

There was a grunt of confirmation from Rukia as she sat back up from her recumbent position, opened the car door, and stepped out. As to what happened next, Ichigo could only describe the scene as the equivalence of a little girl trying out her mother's high heels for the first time. He could see why her date had been supporting her earlier.

Surprising her, and himself moreso, he too exited the car and approached her side, offering a hand.

"I don't need someone who insults my alcohol tolerance to help me walk. I'm fine," she said, narrowly avoiding tripping another time.

"Are you still stuck on that," Ichigo rolled his eyes. "I was just joking with you. And I'm doing this because I'm following the etiquette expected of a driver. Besides, your date did give me fifty bucks to make sure you arrived home safely."

Rukia paused for a moment, and after deciding that his logic did make some sense, reluctantly grabbed his hand, though making sure to keep a respectable distance between the two of them. Didn't want anyone who might see them to get the wrong idea, after all.

The two of them walked to the elevator, and Rukia immediately released Ichigo's hand and leaned against the wall instead. "It's alright, you can go now. What if someone breaks into your cab or something?"

"Do you really think there'd be thieves in a neighborhood like this?"

It was true, Rukia did live in the nicer part of town, where she felt safe enough to often take a walk in the middle of the night to clear her head.

"There isn't anything worth stealing in there anyway," he continued. The elevator door opened and they both got in. "So no need to be concerned, really."

Rukia pressed the thirteenth floor button whilst bringing the other hand up to her mouth, chewing her thumbnail. She seemed to be ruminating, evident by the frown on her flushed face. Sure enough, she spoke just as the elevator sounded on floor thirteen, "I am sorry if what I said earlier offended you in any way. That wasn't my intention, and I do not wish for this to be a point of contention between the two of us."

"What do you mean?" Ichigo acted clueless.

"My acting short and rude when you had commented upon my alcohol tolerance." She took her keys out of her pocket just as they walked up to her door.

"Oh that, don't worry about it. It's been forgotten about already," he gave a laugh.

Glancing up at his face, Rukia decided she didn't quite believe him but let it go, all the same. "You can go now."

"Yeah, of course," Ichigo went back to sporting his neutral expression. "Nice doing business with you. If you ever go drinking again, I'd be happy to escort you home for another fifty."

"I think I'll have to pass on that, but thank you for the offer." Rukia politely nodded a farewell and added a "Good night, Mr. Driver" before closing her door.

This time, she wasn't surprised when she heard "It's Ichigo, not Mr. Driver!" resonate behind her door.