He hears the familiar, forgotten sound of a sandaled foot treading lightly on the ground, even in the bustle of the subway, and he turns, just in time to see the sleeve of a familiar, flower patterned kimono disappear into the crowd. Hesitation is for the very wise or very foolish, and while Ichigo could rightfully have been accused of the latter, he is no longer willing to act like one. The train doors slam shut between them, just as his limp body crumples to the ground amidst the uncaring cacophony. But now, he is no longer bound by such mundane barriers.
"Rukia!"
It is not clear, to either him or her, why she does not flee. Every line in her body posture screams escape. But something restrains her, giving her the appearance of a frightened rabbit caught in headlights. "Ichigo." She acknowledges, turning around to face him, schooling her expression into one of indifference. It doesn't fool him for a second. She has never been able to fool him. In her eyes he sees a mirror image of the same wild emotion that dances in his.
But now that initial euphoria is fading, it stretches into a kind of uneasy silence that neither of them wants to break. And so they stand, half facing each other, half away, as the crowd mills around and through them, little turbulent eddies of the urban madness.
"What're you doing here? Shouldn't you be back recuperating in Soul Society?" The words feel strange on his tongue, and he is keenly aware of both the inadequacy of his words, and their desperate necessity. Inadequate, because what is left unsaid far eclipses the meaning of his sentence. Nevertheless necessary, because the silence threatens to swamp him, to swamp them both and leave them stranded on deserted islands surrounded by the susurrating sea of silence.
"To watch over your training, of course. What, did you think I'd leave it to Urahara?" The words tumble out before she has a chance to consider them, a pitifully transparent attempt to return to the comfortable banter she is familiar with. Something in her warns her that she has no basis making promises that she cannot keep, but is ruthlessly squelched.
The poorly concealed joy that blossoms over his face at the prospect is nearly more than she can bear. "Like I need your training." He scoffs, ruffling her head affectionately with one hand. "I'm already much more powerful than you are." Ouch.
"BAM!" Ouch. "Don't get overconfident, Kurosaki!" Rukia glares down at the boy lying prostrate at her feet. "Besides," she adds with a hint of pride, "I've been training."
He feels like swearing at her, but decides that she gets a special exemption. Just for today.