Title: Corona
Characters: Ichigo & Rukia
Rating: T
Summary: Spoilers and speculation for Chapter 381 of the manga.
She might have noticed earlier if she'd returned his phone calls – but actually picking up every time was suggesting she'd be there whenever he needed, that she'd always be interested. Putting him off was maybe prolonging the inevitable, but she clung to her fraying tendril of independence as though drowning. Predictably, Ichigo was achingly oblivious. The casualties and narrow victories in Haceo Mundo the month prior had done nothing to assuage Soul Society's fears – it was a calculated retreat. The eye of the hurricane. A don't-you-know-this-is-getting-good; we'll be back. The Captains locked themselves behind heavy doors to calculate acceptable losses, but she saw the sideways glances, heard the lieutenants whispering: Kurosaki. He was inescapable.
Yet if he were the key to unlocking Aizen's control, he seemed to be doing very little to prepare. Rukia stuffed herself into a gigai and opened herself to the unabashed radiance of his aura. He was a veritable beacon, a lighthouse calling here, here, I'm here – pull your anchors and keep your distance. After scrabbling through a precarious swathe of branches, she found him sitting on top of the clinic, a picture of blissful ignorance glaring at the midday sun.
"Glad to see you're keeping yourself busy, Ichigo," she remonstrated, placing her hands on her hips. For a moment, he didn't respond.
"You ever fry ants with a magnifying glass?" he asked, sitting up and wiping the shingle-grit from his hands off on his dark blue jeans.
"Of course not."
"Of course not," he repeated, a wry heaviness weighing each syllable. "Well, the glass focuses the sun's energy into a single beam of light and generates this like, really intense heat. You can light shit on fire pretty easily."
"I'm not completely oblivious to basic concepts, Ichigo," she replied, invoking his name a second time like a power mantra. It kept her imperious, in control as she took a step closer, wondering why he hadn't turned around. "Have you been torturing small insects?"
"Our eyes work a lot like magnifying glasses," he continued, pointedly ignoring her. "The lenses focus light to create images on the retina."
A sudden clutch of dread seized her rib cage. "Ichigo."
He glanced back over his shoulder. He had what looked like a fading sunburn, angry freckles across his nose, and swollen, red crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. The irises were wide, pupils dilated despite the strong sunlight – empty husks searching for the sound of her voice. Blind.
"I called," he said, and her gigai's heart palpated wildly. He had. He'd called multiple times, and she'd pressed the silence button and slid the device back into her pockets. His only connection to the spirit world. "I need you to give Unohana a message."
Rukia swallowed, resisting the urge to berate him, stroke his brow, and apologize for the indecent sacrifices they demanded. Instead, she turned her head, observing a weather-beaten gutter drain between blinks. Watched it blur, and took a breath. "What is it?"
Ichigo rested his arms on his knees, shoulders squaring. "Tell her I'm ready."